Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

You’re still the one I run to,

The one that I belong to.

You’re still the one I want for life.

You’re still the one that I love,

The only one I dream of,

You’re still the one I kiss goodnight…

Seungcheol finds himself singing along to his favorite song featured in a show he’s watching called “A Man In Full” as he sips on his small carton of banana milk. When he realizes he had already finished the carton after a long sip of nothing, he melts into his couch, leaning back and fanning himself with the collar of his tank top. As the collar of his clothing creates a gentle breeze, he watches how the two characters dance slowly to the sweet, heart-warming melody that any woman born in the 90s would want as their wedding song.

On the TV was a woman in a green dress smiling beautifully at the man she danced with, her blonde curls swaying with each slow rock of her and the man’s bodies. With every step and every click of her heel against the tiled floor, she whispered the lyrics to him, and he sang along, grinning as he tightened his grip on the woman’s waist lovingly.

Seungcheol sighed dreamily at the scene—Ah, how he wished he had love as romantic as that. He watched intently as he shifted forward and placed the small paper box onto the wooden surface, his eyes never leaving the screen. 

Just as he was about to settle into a more comfortable position, the scene cuts and turns livelier. He groans irritatedly at the sudden change in atmosphere; he was thoroughly enjoying the romantic scene, heart warmed by the love shared between the two characters, despite having been on his phone for the majority of the show and not knowing the plot and whether the woman was a mistress or his wife—really, you can’t blame Seungcheol for not paying attention. The show was alright at best, and the book was definitely better.

He pulls the soft white blanket off of him, throwing it towards the other end of the couch as he digs his hand in between the cushions in search of his phone. He finds it minutes later and unlocks his phone with his password, letting the TV show play in the background as he opens up TikTok and scrolls mindlessly, engrossed in the short clips that come up on his For You Page, even laughing at some. He scrolls once more, and he straightens his posture at what he reads.

It’s a video of a young Korean woman who goes by the username “grwm_jeongyeon” applying foundation and blending it into her skin, with text on the bottom saying:

“my hot take is that if someone owns the very same apartment they've had since college, that means theyre a little unsanitary. i mean, come on ?? who is sleeping in their bed knowing its the same mattress from like twelve years ago? disgusting” 

Seungcheol huffed bitterly, his grip on his phone a little tighter. So what if he still hasn’t moved out of his college apartment? It just means he’s comfortable! And the mattress, oh boy—actually girl—does he have some news! He buys new mattresses! …Or so he claims to. 

He doesn’t, but who cares? He’ll buy a new one soon! A new everything!

He immediately opened the comment section with an angry tap that threatened to crack his screen, fuming as he read the comments, which were… wholeheartedly agreeing. His face drops as he pauses and sets his phone down beside him on the couch. Maybe he really was the problem—ten-year-old mattresses and an unscrubbed sink don’t sound all that hygienic now that he thinks about it. When was the last time he even showered? He freezes. He reluctantly raises his arm and turns his head to the side, only to wince at the smell and widen his eyes in realization.

Who the fuck was in his body right now, because this was not the Choi Seungcheol he knew: tall, muscular, athletic, charismatic, and hygienic Choi Seungcheol. He stands up, a wave of determination coursing through him. He was… late into his 20s—but he was still in his 20s—so what was he doing here rotting on his couch? He bends down to reach for the remote quickly, only for the sudden action to crack his back loudly, causing Seungcheol to cringe at the feeling and rub soothing circles into the aching spot. Couch-rotting really took a toll on him. 

When the sting in his lower back subsides, he reaches for the remote and his phone, swiftly directing the remote towards the TV to turn it off. Afterwards, he turns to look at his phone, staring at it for a moment with a wistful expression, reluctantly turning it on and switching it off, wincing when his screen goes black.

“It’s alright… I’m doing this for my own good,” he reassured himself, taking deep breaths and trying not to think about his online friends who’ll curse at him for being offline and missing their LOL match later. 

“I’m getting myself together,” he muttered, quietly encouraging himself, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

CHECKLIST OF THINGS TO DO! (to become a changed man)

1. Shower

2. Clean up the apartment

   -> (2.1 to 2.whatever to be decided later…)

3. Look for a new apartment

4. Visit parents

5. Become a changed man

Seungcheol swiftly crosses out the first item on his checklist, satisfied with himself as he takes another towel that’s not the one wrapped around his waist to dry his black hair (which needed a redyeing). As soon as his hair is dry, he hangs the towel on the rack, sighing contentedly. How did he willingly miss out on cold showers in the middle of summer? He chuckles and walks over to his room to find a clean pair of boxers and sweatpants. 

• Shower

He stands in front of his closet, swings the doors open, and is shocked to find that in the laundry basket, there are barely any clothes; the hamper is a different topic altogether. Well, given he’s been wearing the same tank top for the past month, and he’s only been wearing his old varsity shorts that cycle between three: the blue one, the purple one, and the orange one, it’s no surprise that Seungcheol only finds those three shorts and a lot of boxers.

He’ll do the laundry later, he decides with a shrug. He reaches out and scrambles through the hung shirts and tank tops, searching for something comfortable to wear that won’t make him sweat to death while he’s cleaning up, when he spots a jersey he doesn’t recognize.

He raises an eyebrow, grabs the hanger, and pulls out the hung jersey, only for him to go silent and widen his eyes when he turns the jersey over to read the number and the last name written in that signature jersey font.

“Yoon, Jersey number 10,” he reads out.

He almost drops the hanger in surprise. He still had this? 

He gently takes the small jersey off the hanger and gawks at it, feeling the soft, smooth, and stretchy texture of the black and white jersey. He sucks in a breath as he runs the pads of his fingers along the surface, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted as he’s reminded of the familiar texture that always used to be under his fingers. 

It’s only now, as he’s running his fingers over the old jersey, that he notices the sun rising, each golden ray seeping in through the cracks in the blinds like a past that was dawning upon him, casting a yellowish-orange light upon Seungcheol and the jersey that was in his hands. The end of the jersey flowed with the faint breeze of the electric fan in the corner, each wave of the elastic fabric like a gentle “Hello” from his younger days. He tilts the jersey around while moving closer to the window and swishing the curtains open so he has a clearer view of the jersey.

There’s no doubt about it. This was his first love’s volleyball jersey.

He stares down at the clothing, his heart racing as he caresses the sleeveless top softly, each graze of his fingertips along the gentle surface surging him with a fresh wave of nostalgia and, oddly, gloom.

He sighs as he steps closer towards the bed. Slowly, he leans down and sets his jersey upon his cotton sheets with feather-light force, flattening it and straightening out the folds and wrinkles as he takes a moment for himself to recollect and reminisce, eyes never leaving the jersey that lies before him.

He can’t quite remember why he had his first love’s jersey in the first place.

Minutes later, he walks out of the room, fully clothed in a white tank top and grey sweatpants, with an oddly wistful look on his face, leaving his first love’s jersey on the bed for him to come back to later. For now, he had other things to focus on.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about Jeonghan all the while, though.

2. Clean up the apartment (ongoing)

He shuffles around the apartment, looking for something to clean—there’s a lot, but he wants to start with the easy jobs first. Doing the dishes was a no-go; he was absolutely not scrubbing his life away at the dirty bowls and plates in his sink that had been there for God knows how long, doing the laundry would have him gagging and demotivated to do anything else, and sweeping the dusty, creaking floor would take too much of his energy.

So, he settles for cleaning out the fridge.

—

Seungcheol begins his task by mentally preparing himself, buying time as he walks over to the kitchen cabinet and slowly takes out a trash bag, savoring each second he doesn't have to face the moldy foods decomposing in his fridge. He sends a silent apology to his nose as he closes the cabinet door, each centimeter it moves causing it to creak loudly. When the cabinet door gently shuts, he sighs and tiptoes over to his fridge, stretching and hollowing out the trash bag. 

“Sweeping would’ve been better,” he groaned as he rapidly swung the refrigerator door open, almost causing it to fall on top of him, and held up his trash bag like it was a weapon. When no mold demon comes out to jump at him and eat him alive, he opens one eye (he didn’t even realize he closed them) and takes a peek at the fridge, only for him to gag a little at the bottom shelf.

The top shelves were clean, pristine, even; his food was separated and organized accordingly—the bottom shelf was the problem. He’s half-sure the frozen food in the freezer accidentally preserved the coronavirus.

He pinches his nose and kneels in front of the fridge, coming face-to-face with the dreaded bottom shelf, which he can smell even with his nose closed off. He gags loudly, slapping his gloved hand over his mouth so he doesn’t make the putrid aroma even worse. This was not the easiest job—hell, even washing months' worth of dishes would’ve been better…

...He decides otherwise when he looks over to the sink to find stacks of bowls and plates that are half his height.

He sucks in a breath through his mouth and begins rummaging through the bottom shelf, swiping the moldy foods hastily and throwing them into the trash bag aggressively. By the time he’s heaving the last container into the depths of the black plastic bag, which is probably creating an ecosystem in there with all the mold and bacteria crawling, his nose is numbing, and his sense of smell is dulled. He swoops the last container in with a strangled cry of victory like he just slayed a giant beast—technically, he did, just that the beast was in portions. He doesn’t want to imagine what all that mold combined would look like… The cheese in the back of his fridge literally looked like grass, and the container of what looked like kimchi beside it had its gochujang turn black.

He quickly ties up the trash bag, but in his rush to get it closed and tied shut, he accidentally knocks over the water bottle he had placed by his foot earlier when he took a break, causing it to roll under the fridge. He rolled his eyes and grumbled, but he was too happy about finishing up that he couldn’t find it in himself to stay mad. He sets the overflowing trash bag aside and walks back up to the fridge, which was smelling significantly better, and crouches down in front of it, reaching a hand out under the fridge and patting around for the water bottle.

He pats around the floor and feels something, but it’s not exactly circular or something he could grip onto—it was flat, and it felt pretty… fuzzy—maybe also a little smooth? He isn’t quite sure.

Out of curiosity, he grabs onto the mysterious item and pulls it out. He’s met with what looks to be the same length as a Polaroid—hold on, it is a Polaroid.

He dusts off the thin layer of dust carefully, revealing a part of the photo. He raises an eyebrow at what he sees: he sees yellow and brown, and it looks like the yellow object is resting upon a brown surface—perhaps a table? He scoffs and begins wiping off all the dust. His eyes widen in realization when the full picture is revealed.

There’s nothing too surprising about the picture; it’s just a small bottle of banana milk, specifically Binggrae, on top of a table, and the background looks to be his high school’s cafeteria.

What surprises Seungcheol is the words on the back of the Polaroid. 

Mar 1, 2015

A boy I met in the canteen treated me to some banana milk. Dunno who he was, but he was funny.

Seungcheol laughs softly at the text, feeling the way his chest warms up. He knows exactly who this “boy” is. He stares down at the picture and runs his fingers over the smooth, slippery surface of the photo. He forgot he used to document every single event in his life with his Polaroid and his Sharpies.

It was March 1, 2015, the day Seungcheol met Jeonghan for the first time.

—

It was any other day for Seungcheol, walking around with his Polaroid camera in hand and its attached strap around his wrist, chatting happily with his friends as he walked around the school, except now, he was a junior! He laughed at his childhood friend, Jihoon’s, sarcastic and witty remarks directed towards Soonyoung, his in-denial crush, who was laughing much harder than Seungcheol—and that was saying a lot, because Seungcheol was throwing his head back in laughter. On the other hand, there were Mingyu and Wonwoo, who were trailing right behind them, nudging at each other playfully and whispering sweet nothings to each other, which caused the oldest of them to roll his eyes. They weren’t doing a good job at hiding their relationship, as much as they claimed to want to “keep it lowkey”. He didn’t understand the appeal of the slang “lowkey” as much as he had tried to.

With each step they took, their black loafers thudded across the tiled floor of their school’s hallways as they made their way towards the cafeteria. They passed through the door and shuffled around, immediately looking for an empty table. 

When Wonwoo finds one, he calls them over, and all of them come running towards the table and plopping themselves down onto the seats, only to start laughing when Mingyu accidentally breaks the chair in a rush to sit beside Wonwoo. The tall, tanned teen whined at the pain in his bottom, while Soonyoung started mocking him and fake-falling from his chair repeatedly, sending Jihoon down a spiral of laughter and red faces. Meanwhile, Seungcheol was trying to hide how much he was snickering, but his pinkening face betrayed him. He bursts out laughing and snorting minutes later, his gummy smile on full display as even Wonwoo, the calmest and Mingyu’s literal boyfriend, starts laughing, covering his mouth and trying to hide it from Mingyu. Mingyu rolls his eyes and frowns, starting to ramble and scold his friends, who just couldn’t stop giggling.

They sober up minutes later, and Seungcheol suggests they start buying their food already. Soonyoung and Jihoon nod as they stand up and follow Seungcheol. He tries to ignore the way Mingyu pouts at Wonwoo for leaving him behind so their table isn’t taken, way too fed up with how lovey-dovey they act. Puppy love, he assumes, but he also believes they’re genuinely in love with each other.

The four come back with their paper bags and some with their trays. They sit down and start eating with Wonwoo handing Mingyu his food he bought for him, and Mingyu having to resist the urge to hug the breath out of him (Seungcheol knows he doesn’t just wanna hug the breath out of Wonwoo, but he won’t mention that).

In the middle of a serious discussion about whether they think the school’s sunshine prince, Seokmin, is gay or straight, Seungcheol realizes he didn’t buy a drink, so he quickly excuses himself to go buy a drink at one of the cafeteria stalls. He approaches the stall, only to find out he doesn’t have any money left in his wallet. He grunts, pocketing his wallet again and motioning to turn around, until someone taps him on the shoulder.

He turns around and meets the gaze of a girl—wait, a boy. The boy has long, brown hair that falls just below his shoulders, which swoops up and flies away, while his dark brown eyes contrast with the light chocolate of his hair. His long eyelashes flutter as he blinks twice before smiling and chuckling, looking away from Seungcheol, who’s trying so hard not to stare at the feminine teen. He watches how the boy uses his long, delicate fingers to whip out his leather wallet and hands over two bills to the stall lady, in turn, receiving two small bottles of banana milk.

Wait, two? The boy turns around and hands Seungcheol one of the two bottles of banana milk, smiling as he sips on his using his straw. Seungcheol stares at him, a little bewildered as he points to himself in confusion, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow at the beautiful boy. He laughs warmly, getting a little banana milk on his shirt as a result of laughing with his mouth full, and Seungcheol tries to ignore the way his heart races with pride a little at the boy’s deep laugh, each “ha” accentuated in his own weird but endearing way. Seungcheol made him laugh.

“No, of course I’m not giving it to you. I’m talking about the guy behind you,” he deadpanned, pointing behind Seungcheol, who’s gullible enough to turn around and follow his finger, only to come face to face with a wall. Seungcheol snorts and turns back to the brunet who’s still holding out the small plastic bottle filled with banana milk.

“Haha, very funny,” he laughed sardonically, taking the banana milk from the boy and sticking his straw in, taking a tentative sip, his eyes never leaving the brunet. “Thank you. For treating me to banana milk even if you don’t know who I am, I mean.” Seungcheol thanked the brunet politely, slightly bowing as he clutched his drink with both hands. The boy laughs a little and waves a dismissive hand.

“No, no, you don’t have to thank me. I just saw that you didn’t have any cash on you, and I’m in a pretty good mood today.” The boy chuckled, finishing off his banana milk and throwing it in the trash. He turns around and waves at Seungcheol. “See you around,” he concluded as he walked away, probably off to go sit with his friends. Seungcheol waves back, and he doesn’t even notice the way his hands are shaking.

He sips on his banana milk.

He never even liked banana milk before, so why was it suddenly tasting sweeter?

He walks back to his table with the banana milk in hand, quieter as he tunes out his friends’ conversation. He places the carton down onto the table and takes a picture, his friends oblivious to what just happened. He shakes the film for a few moments when it’s spat out to let the picture develop, afterwards flipping the picture over. He quickly takes the Sharpie out of his breast pocket and jots down some words.

“Mar 1, 2015

A boy I met in the canteen treated me to some banana milk. Dunno who he was, but he was funny.”

—

His heart pounds in longing at the memory, each beat of his heart synchronizing with the thoughts running through his mind and sweeping up everything around it, creating a hurricane of conflicting feelings within Seungcheol's mind.

He holds onto the Polaroid a little tighter before he grabs a magnet and sticks the photo onto the fridge door.

“Looks like you’re coming back to me, aren’t you, Hannie?”

—

When Seungcheol takes the trash bag out and sets it just outside of his door (he’s thankful his apartment is at the end of the hall), he steps back inside and wipes the sweat collecting at his forehead with the back of his palm. It’s only when he looks down that he realizes just how dirty the floor is.

The trash bag Seungcheol had to drag out of the apartment left a clean trail that revealed the wood beneath all those layers of dust and dirt. From the fridge to the front door, there’s one continuous line that’s a rich spruce, while the surrounding flooring pooling around the neat streak of wood is a dull, greyish-brown. He inwardly cringes. No wonder he’s been coughing recently… and a little while ago… and a long, long time ago…

He sighs as he runs a hand through his hair and grabs the broom and dustpan aggressively. No pain, no gain.

He starts sweeping the floor, collecting all of the dust and sweeping it into the dustpan, expertly sweeping the floor clean. By the time he reaches the living room, he’s coughing out his lungs, and he’s forced to strap on a surgical mask. Once he’s geared up with his mask, he crouches down, sticks the broom under the couch, and starts moving it back and forth, making sure to get all of the dirt out from under the furniture.

His luck had other plans, because he accidentally knocked over the lamp on the table beside the couch when he tried to stand up and pat the dust off his clothes. The lamp falls to the floor loudly, and Seungcheol groans out at the booming thud of the lamp—it wasn’t even that heavy! He stands up and stomps towards the lamp, picking it up and slamming it back onto the table.

He then notices an out-of-place magazine that was popular 9 years ago, so he walks around the table and pulls the drawer open forcefully, throwing the magazine into the drawer as he slams the drawer closed harshly.

…

Now hold on just a second.

He gently pulls the drawer open again, his grip on the handle relatively looser than before, as he timidly takes out the magazine and drops it onto the couch with a soft thud.

It looks like it wasn’t a trick of the light.

Seungcheol gently wraps his fingers around the edge of the flat, smooth, and slippery surface—another Polaroid.

And it’s Jeonghan again. Just how many photos did Seungcheol have of Jeonghan?

The Polaroid looks much cleaner this time, with only a thin layer of dust collecting, which Seungcheol easily wipes off. At the center of the photo was a familiar boy in all his charismatic, vibrant, and colorful glory: Yoon Jeonghan. Behind the boy was Wonwoo, who seemed to be beside Seungkwan.

He turns the film around and reads the text on the back.

“Mar 2, 2015”

“Coincidences are cool. I met the boy again while I was strolling around campus to take pictures, only to find out he shares a PhysEd class with my friend Wonwoo. We talked a lil... Found out his name is Jeonghan.”

Seungcheol sucks in a breath. That’s right—March 2 was the day he officially met Jeonghan.

—

Seungcheol had walked around campus all day long. His loafers had practically strolled across every tiled and concrete floor the school could provide, and crushed every blade of grass that was unlucky enough to be beneath him. He held onto his camera tightly, searching around and whipping his head left and right for something beautiful to capture. He stops in front of a rose bush that the school had planted just a few years back. As pretty as the dark red of the roses and the deep green hues of their prickly thorns were, it just wasn’t what he was looking for. He needed something that was… Unique? No, that’s not the word…

It’s on the tip of his tongue.

He slouches as he rounds the corner with his Polaroid camera in hand, shutting his eyes for a second, until a volleyball starts flying his way. He quickly dodges before the ball can hit him, stumbling back a step or two as his loafers screech against the pavement.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” An apologetic shout called out, progressively getting closer. Just as Seungcheol turned around, fully ready to curse out the offender for trying to hit him, he was taken aback when he met a familiar set of rich, chocolatey eyes. It was the boy he met in the cafeteria yesterday. He tenses up as his heart begins to pound out of his chest when he realizes it’s that very boy; he doesn’t know why, but it just does.

“YOON! LANGUAGE!” A loud voice, presumably their PE teacher, yells out from across the field, his resounding voice echoing across the green meadow. Seungcheol just can’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away from the boy in front of him. He watches the way the brunet cringes at the loud voice, rolling his eyes and scratching the inside of his ears with his pinky.

“God, we’re really not on our game today,” he snarled to himself, gritting his teeth as he walked past Seungcheol to pick up the volleyball, bending over and hissing when his back cracked. Seungcheol chuckles awkwardly, each “ha” defined, but not in a charming way like the brunet's—heavens, no. Every “ha” sounded like Seungcheol was repeatedly emptying his lungs and then trying to scream. 

Jeonghan promptly turns around to face Seungcheol with the volleyball in his hands, when suddenly, he bows. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to send that volleyball your way—it just happened because Seungkwan was spiking too hard.” Speak of the devil, Seungkwan sneezes somewhere in the background.

He smiles at Jeonghan weakly, his dimples on display as he waves a dismissive hand and repeats an almost never-ending series of “No, no, no, no, no”s.

“It’s okay.” It wouldn’t have been if it were someone else, a nasty—wait, that was the good voice, in Seungcheol’s head whispers like a little devil on his shoulder, and the boy mentally groans. “It didn’t hit me anyway, so we’re all good,” he sends Jeonghan a nerdy thumbs up and a light grin. 

That was such a lame thing to do, the actual nasty voice speaks this time—but being lame can be cute! The good voice rebutted, and he’s had about enough of his mental debate when he sees the boy laugh at him. Seungcheol feels himself clutching onto his camera a little tighter as he fights back a blush by thinking very negative things when he sees the brunet’s big smile and hears that signature laugh that has his heartbeat synchronizing with each giggle.

“Your face is so expressive,” he said in between laughs, wiping away the happy tears forming at his waterline. He holds his volleyball with one hand and starts looking around aimlessly, like he’s searching for something, before he eventually sighs and just sets the ball down beside his feet. When he looks back up, he grins brightly at Seungcheol.

“Like you heard from our coach over there, I’m, um, Yoon Jeonghan,” he introduces himself shyly with one nervous hand twirling a lock of his hair.

Seungcheol just couldn’t stay stiff any longer, not when the brunet had such a smooth, silky voice he could listen to for hours, a personality that had him easing up throughout their conversation, and a lovely name he could repeat for hours and never get over the way it slides off his tongue so naturally. He sighs and finally relaxes, returning Jeonghan’s smile warmly as he involuntarily shows off his charming gummy smile.

“I’m Choi Seungcheol. I’m a part of the Photography Club,” he introduces himself politely and looks over Jeonghan’s shoulder for a moment with a curious tilt of his head, before he meets his gaze again. “And I’m friends with Wonwoo and Seungkwan over there, who you… I assume you know?” he asked, scratching his nape and raising an eyebrow at Jeonghan, who chuckled and nodded, his brown locks swishing along the warm breeze of spring.

“Yeah, I’m familiar with them. I’m classmates with Wonwoo, and Seungkwan just happened to have a P.E class at the same time as us—he’s also my teammate in volleyball,” he smiled, looking behind him to scowl and hold up a very angry wait sign at Seungkwan, who was rolling his eyes and shouting at Jeonghan to hurry up. Wonwoo, on the other hand, stood quietly beside Seungkwan, laughing at their interaction and calming him down by placing a hand on his shoulder. Seungcheol ignores the way Mingyu (wait, when did he get there?) glares at Seungkwan from across the field.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and points with his thumb over his shoulder. He mocks Seungkwan’s angry expression, furrowing his brows the same way, but unable to fight back the grin that smears across his face. “Hurry up, Jeonghan! Hurry up!” Jeonghan mocked Seungkwan’s mannerisms, even resting a hand on his hip and having one limp hand in the air, swishing it around carelessly. Seungcheol snorts at Jeonghan’s spot-on impression, laughing out loud when he sees Seungkwan glare daggers at Jeonghan, who’s blissfully unaware.

Seungcheol finds himself settling into comfortable laughter with the long-haired boy. He can’t help but admire Jeonghan when he’s laughing, the corner of his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunched as he laughs heartily. It’s only now that Seungcheol realizes that Jeonghan has a fairly big mouth.

He thinks that’s pretty—unfairly pretty.

When they both sober up from their laughter, Jeonghan massages his jaw, which was hurting from the excessive giggling.

“Ah, oh, I’m sorry, but as you can see, I have to go,” Jeonghan says, rolling his eyes and scoffing as he points behind him with his thumb, which, Seungcheol assumes, is referring to Seungkwan. He chuckles and nods.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Seungcheol grinned widely at Jeonghan, who waved him goodbye and ran off, only to pause just after a few feet of running, turning around slowly to meet Seungcheol’s eyes again as he smiled sweetly.

“W-” He clears his throat. “Will I see you around?” Jeonghan says meekly, kicking the small rocks and looking up at Seungcheol through his long, brown bangs. And God, if that doesn’t just make Seungcheol weak in the knees, then he doesn’t know what else could.

“See you around,” Seungcheol said with a warm smile, waving. Jeonghan smiles even wider at Seungcheol’s reply and nods happily before he runs off into the distance and onto the green field, twirling around and laughing when Seungkwan scolds him.

Click!

Seungcheol didn’t even realize he was focusing the camera on Jeonghan and taking a picture until he heard the sound of his camera shutter. When the picture slips out, he takes it and quickly shakes it, far too curious about the picture.

When the photo finally develops after a whopping whole minute of waiting, only one word pops into Seungcheol’s mind when he sees the photo:

Breathtaking.

Oh, that was the word he was looking for earlier.

He gulps and bites back a furious blush. This was so wrong.

—

Seungcheol sets the picture down on the cushion beside him and just stares at nothing for a solid minute. His thoughts ran wild, each new thought causing a cog in his brain to malfunction and straight-up burn a second later. He purses his lips and twiddles with the hem of his shirt.

Fuck. His mind was full of Jeonghan—his laugh, his smile, his everything. 

He eventually sighs and throws his head back as he leans back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling listlessly as he attempts to clear his mind. Yoon Jeonghan, his high school sweetheart, marked a significant change in his life and everything in general, and here he was, making an appearance once again when Seungcheol decided he needed a change. He doesn’t know when he starts tearing up or why he does, but he just does. He swallows hard and drags his palms down his face, the cold white light of his ceiling lamp hitting his face as he suppresses the overwhelming emotions coursing throughout his body.

He sighs deeply before he sits up straight and grabs the picture, glancing at it one last time before standing up and making his way towards the fridge, taking another magnet and sticking it onto the metal surface right beside the first picture he found.

Yoon was going to be the death of him.

As he stuck the picture to the fridge, he rested his hands on his hips and took a moment to stare at it.

He sighs and squats down, burying his face in his hands. “Not again…” Seungcheol whispers to himself, sighing deeply.

—

He clutches the metal rod of his mop tightly, moving it back and forth slowly as he stares at the broomstick in the corner of his living room, which he’d just gotten finished with earlier, his stare null and empty. He tries so hard to swallow the lump in his throat, but he just can’t. He sighs deeply and sets the mop aside; he’ll mop again later, but for now, he needs to address the elephant in the room.

Yoon Jeonghan was creeping back into his life, and he didn’t know if he wanted that or not.

How come only after ten years does Jeonghan show himself to Seungcheol again? How come, after all this time he’s spent waiting for Yoon, he only appears now when Seungcheol’s long but forgotten about him?

It’s bittersweet, it’s unfortunate—it hits too close to home. 

Suddenly, Seungcheol feels claws scratch at his leg, and he winces, immediately jumping up to see who the offender is. It was a big furball of whi- oh, it was his dog, Kkuma, with… a wilted rose in her mouth. He tuts and immediately crouches down in front of Kkuma to retrieve the dead flower from between her blunt teeth.

“Kkuma, what did I say about going around the apartment and carrying random things around? Ah, Jesus, the last time you did this, you almost got leptospirosis from that humongous rat…” Seungcheol tutted and shook his head as he pried Kkuma’s mouth open gently and grabbed the rose. He sighs and stands back up, spinning the rose around in his hand for a minute or two until he spots a darker spot on one of the petals. He tilts his head in curiosity and quickly brings the rose closer to his face, squinting into the darkness, until he finally makes out a drawing—a drawing of the letter J with hearts.

It’s like someone just poured a bucket of ice water over his head.

—

April 25, 2015

Seungcheol was hanging out with his friends Mingyu and Wonwoo, inconveniently sandwiched between them. With each step, he found Mingyu pushing and nudging at him, begging Seungcheol to move to the side so he could walk beside his boyfriend, but, like the annoying older non-biological brother Seungcheol was, he refused to third wheel the two. Wonwoo stayed neutral, chuckling at their antics and mitigating their petty arguments when he sensed genuine brewing anger and irritation.

They stopped by a nearby park and simply strolled around, the white rays of sunlight hitting their faces alongside the hot breeze of the incoming summer in Daegu gliding around them, causing green leaves and small flowers to float along the zephyr. The eldest of the three slows down a little, leaving the two walking in front of him so he has more time to take in his surroundings. The evergreen leaves swayed to the peaceful hum of the wind, and the blue, cloudless sky enveloped the world above him, not a single white star in sight. Seungcheol bit down on his popsicle and chewed the soft ice cream, ignoring the way Mingyu and Wonwoo had to stop to make confused and disgusted faces at him. They shrug it off with a shared, concerned look after a few minutes, and the older boy sees the two talk to each other with big smiles and pink cheeks, when they suddenly spin around and face him with awkward smiles.

“Hyung…?” Mingyu started with his puppy eyes and shrinking posture, accompanied by his pleading tone. Seungcheol snorted and rolled his eyes, shifting his weight onto one leg as he rested a hand on his hip.

“What do you want, Kim?” Seungcheol said after popping the popsicle out of his mouth, licking the dripping ice cream that rolled down the wooden popsicle stick. Mingyu tilted his head and widened his eyes, looking confused as he squinted at the older, even leaning forward, looking like he was trying to analyze every detail and movement of Seungcheol’s facial muscles. Seungcheol flicks Mingyu in the middle of his forehead and laughs.

“You don’t call me hyung unless you want something. Let’s not beat around the bush,” Seungcheol said, biting off the last of his popsicle and throwing the wooden stick into the trash can, with Mingyu hissing at the sting in his forehead and Wonwoo chuckling and patting his boyfriend on the back. Mingyu pouts but eventually sighs, crossing his arms and rubbing his forehead with one hand. 

“Wonwoo-hyung and I wanna go on ahead, y’know, go on a date. We were just wondering if it’s okay with you?” The tall, tanned teen asked, shoulders tensing up as he spoke in the smallest voice he could muster up.

“It’s completely fine if you say no, hyung. No pressure, no hard feelings,” Wonwoo reassured Seungcheol, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it once. The oldest laughs and crosses his arms. There was no denying these two when they wanted to spend time together, especially when they barely got to hang out at school to avoid dating rumors.

“It’s fine, you two, seriously. I was gonna leave soon anyway,” Seungcheol says with an understanding smile, patting Wonwoo’s hand on his shoulder. Wonwoo and Mingyu don’t look convinced quite yet, though, since both of them are sporting guilty faces like they were kids who just told their first lie—these two really were Seungcheol’s soft spot… “Seriously, it’s fine. Don’t wait for me to change my mind and beat both of you half to death,” he threatened, raising a warning finger as Mingyu and Wonwoo smiled widely and looked at each other before giggling.

“Thanks, hyung!” They both wave goodbye to Seungcheol before running off, laughing as their sandals clapped across the cobble pavement. He could only watch with a gentle smile and a heart full of joy; nothing made Seungcheol happier than seeing the people he loved (he wasn't afraid to admit it) happy. 

But now it was just him, standing… somewhere in the park, looking ahead at the park exit that was now silent, the warm laughter of two boys fading away. He purses his lips and looks around for something to do—so maybe he lied about “having to leave soon anyway”, but how else would he get Mingyu and Wonwoo not to feel guilty about leaving him?

After a few minutes of walking, he stumbles upon a park map, and upon further inspection, he sees that he’s near the… right wing? The fuck’s a right wing? Anyway, all he had to do was follow the trail to his right, and he’d end up at the duck pond. Feeding ducks didn’t seem too boring… Well, aside from the fact that he doesn’t have bread, so maybe he’ll just watch ducks… Yeah, no, he wasn’t doing that. He scratches his head and tuts before he eventually shoves his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts and begins following the path that leads to the duck pond. 

After 30 minutes of tiring walking under the scorching sun, he’s now cursing at the big star instead of appreciating it; he’s exhausted, he’s sweaty, and most of all, he still hasn’t come across any stalls that sell duck food, making his whole trip to the duck pond to feed them useless! What was he gonna do now, stare at the ducks and wait for one of them to start chasing him? Hell no! …That actually sounded like way more fun than just watching them. 

He sighs as he plops down onto a bench, rubbing his temples and furrowing his brows in frustration. He was gonna die of boredom today-

“Seungcheol?” A stuffy, clogged voice murmured from Seungcheol’s right, sniffling and… familiar. It couldn’t be. Seungcheol’s heart stops, then quickens, then quickens, then quickens. He turns his head to the right and practically jumps in his seat when he sees long, dark hair and sorrowful brown eyes that’ve turned black instead of the gleaming chestnut locks and caramel eyes Seungcheol had been expecting.

“Jeonghan? What- what happened to you?” His heart ached at the sight of the boy, eyes so lifeless and cheerful demeanor gone and fading away—it stirred frustration and pain in Seungcheol’s heart to see the charming boy he’d come to know so sad, even if they’d only met once or twice. Seungcheol’s eyes glimmered with shared gloom as he raised a hand to pat Jeonghan’s back, but quickly retracted it, unsure if they were close enough for Seungcheol to initiate physical contact.

The brunet merely forced a smile and shook his head slowly as he stared down at the cobble path blankly, his form slouched and his lips trembling; Seungcheol could tell Jeonghan was fighting back tears just to look strong in front of Seungcheol, just to show Seungcheol that he was still the same, happy Jeonghan he had introduced to the older of them.

“I-... I don’t-” And just as suddenly as Jeonghan had spoken to him, he had burst into tears immediately when his voice cracked, sobbing and sniffling as his lips curled downwards and his hands flew to his face to wipe the bursting tears away. Seungcheol jumped into action and didn’t hesitate for a second to slide closer to Jeonghan and wrap an arm around his shoulder, squeezing his shoulder as comfort, and resting one hand on the boy’s thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the inner side of his leg.

“Don’t be afraid to cry. It’s only us two here.” Seungcheol never once stopped his movements, still giving Jeonghan the warmth he needed amid the cold stream of his tears as his wails only got louder. The brunet buried his face in his palms and cried his heart out, and it hurt the older so much to see the kind boy cry so much when all Seungcheol’s ever seen him do is smile. Seungcheol doesn’t know why he resonates with Jeonghan so much… This is only their third time talking; they’re not even friends, and yet, Seungcheol feels Jeonghan’s suffering and all of his tears as if they were his own.

It takes Jeonghan a few minutes to calm down; his heavy panting and gasps for air slowly settle into steady, calm breathing as he detaches his palms from his face and stares down at his lap emptily. His nose was red, his eyes were swelling, and he was sniffling every other second, trying not to let his nose run. Seungcheol removes his arm slung around Jeonghan’s shoulder and lets his hands rest in his lap as he stares at Jeonghan with a somber expression.

“Hey, Jeonghan, look at me,” Seungcheol mutters out softly as he gently reaches over to grab Jeonghan's hands and clasps them in his own, which startles Jeonghan out of his own world. The brunet slowly turns his head to meet Seungcheol’s affectionate gaze, and the gloom in Jeonghan’s eyes sends a painful pang of hurt up Seungcheol’s spine.

“I won’t force you to tell me anything, but… I wanna know what happened. I wanna know how I can make you feel better again.” Seungcheol never once let his gaze falter, his grip on Jeonghan’s hands only tightening, as if saying he wasn’t going to let Jeonghan go so easily. The older was a little embarrassed, only now realizing that he sounded like a male lead straight out of a cringey romance in a K-Drama, and he blushes, groaning as he lets go of Jeonghan's hands to rub the bridge of his nose. 

“Wait, shit, no, I mean- that was so fucking corny, I’m sorry-” Seungcheol apologizes, bowing his head in shame, but that’s when Jeonghan chuckles, albeit a little weakly. He winks open an eye, and his heart skips a beat when he sees Jeonghan smiling lightly, his body now turned to face Seungcheol.

“C’mon, how am I supposed to not open up to you when you’re being this… I don’t know, dorky?” Jeonghan laughed as he pried Seungcheol’s hand away from his face, all while giggling lightly, though his smile was still a little bit bleak. Seungcheol raises an eyebrow and smiles as he lets Jeonghan guide his hands off his face.

Jeonghan stares into Seungcheol’s eyes for a second before he sighs and stares down at Seungcheol’s lap, but at least he’s not trying to turn away.

“First things first, I’m gay,” Jeonghan said firmly, glancing up at Seungcheol with hesitant eyes, trying to gauge his reaction, expecting shock, anger, or maybe even disgust, but what surprises Jeonghan is when Seungcheol doesn’t even budge. Jeonghan waits a little more, waiting for a response, while Seungcheol waits on a continuation of whatever Jeonghan’s admitting.

Jeonghan still isn’t speaking… Was that his confession? No, it couldn’t be.

“...Okay? What’s next?” Seungcheol replies with a tilt of his head and a confused expression, like Jeonghan didn’t just drop a bombshell on him. Jeonghan copies Seungcheol’s expression, staring at him with disbelief and equal confusion. 

“Are… Are you not gonna be disgusted? Stand up and leave?” Jeonghan asked, squinting at Seungcheol with his already swollen eyes, making it look like he had his eyes closed, trying to see through him as he bit the inside of his cheek in suspicion. Seungcheol laughs and looks at Jeonghan like he had just asked if the sky was blue and if grass was green. Jeonghan is even more confused in turn, and he blinks up at Seungcheol as if he’d just watched him grow a second head.

“Why… would I? I’m not exactly homophobic when most of my friends are gay,” Seungcheol replied, his tone firm and laced with a hint of bewilderment at the brunet’s odd behavior and assumptions. “I mean, if Mingyu and Wonwoo weren’t obvious enough,” he added, shrugging. Jeonghan’s jaw drops. THAT was the real bombshell.

“What the shit? Mingyu and Wonwoo are-” Jeonghan makes an odd gesture, raising both of his index fingers and slowly moving them closer to each other before they stick together, and Seungcheol can’t help but laugh as he nods. Jeonghan’s jaw drops even further.

“I did not fucking expect my spiker to be gay AND dating the photography club leader. Holy actual shit, you learn new things every day,” Jeonghan sighs and hits his forehead with the heel of his palm, trying to knock some sense into himself as Seungcheol chuckles.

Jeonghan eventually sobers up from the disbelief as he slouches over once again and meets Seungcheol’s eyes gloomily. “Anyways, thanks for… for not leaving,” Jeonghan murmurs, and Seungcheol places a hand on his thigh and pats it. Jeonghan smiles lightly in gratitude and sighs once again.

“I-I had been talking to this guy I really liked for a while now, and we were supposed to meet here, and, well, we did, but… he didn’t come here to tell me he loved me, no, he came here with some stupid, shitty rose, and he told me that- that being gay was just a phase and that he found a girl he loves,” Jeonghan explained, his voice cracking as he held back the tears that threatened to burst. Seungcheol immediately moves closer and places a hand on Jeonghan’s back, moving his hand up and down slowly to comfort him. Jeonghan sniffles and grabs the rose he received and spins it around with his fingers, frowning down at the innocent flower and hissing when a thorn pokes him. 

“Hey, at least he told you immediately. Imagine if he still decided to keep things going on between you two—it would only result in more lies. Sure, you’d be happy, but would you really still feel the same way in the end?” Seungcheol said in a soft voice, staring at the red rose in Jeonghan’s hand, almost as if contemplating something. Jeonghan looks up and watches Seungcheol stare at the rose, the older’s expression unreadable.

“I guess not,” he replied, still watching Seungcheol. The older finally looks back up at Jeonghan, and that’s when they lock eyes. They realize just how close their faces are, and if either of them just moved a little closer, their faces would just barely graze against each other. Their soft breaths mingled together, both of them suddenly aware of everything around them.

Suddenly, Seungcheol pulls away, and Jeonghan looks a little disappointed. But quickly, he turns around, and Jeonghan hears a soft snap. He turns back to Jeonghan with a fresh, red rose and a warm, sweet smile, his heart racing.

“Throw that rose away,” Seungcheol said sternly, pointing at the already-wilting rose in Jeonghan’s hand. Jeonghan looked more confused than ever, even tilting his head and glancing back and forth between Seungcheol and the flower. The older just nods, confirming what Jeonghan thought he said was, indeed, what he said. “Don’t ask, just throw it away,” he adds, and Jeonghan opens his mouth to respond, but he slowly shuts his lips after a few moments, deciding not to question it any further. He chucks the rose behind him, and he hears the faint sound of water rippling, but he decides not to focus on it, way too curious to know what Seungcheol’s trying to do.

Seungcheol smiles and reaches into his left pocket, his tongue poking out in focus as he huffs and pulls out a black marker. Jeonghan just watches in intrigue.

He takes off the cap of the marker with his teeth, keeping the cap in between his canines as he uses the marker to write something on one of the petals. He spins the rose around and writes something on the petal on the opposite side. After a minute of Seungcheol squinting down at the petal, he caps the marker and smiles down at his work before he pockets the Pentel pen and offers the modified rose to Jeonghan. The latter raises an eyebrow and takes the rose hesitantly, and in an instant, his face lights up. 

Seungcheol watches the way the shine that contested even the glimmer of a million constellations returns to his eyes, the way the glow of his supple skin had gleamed once again through his pale complexion, the way his frown curled upwards so excitedly, the way his teeth peeked out from in between his soft, pink lips, and the way his cheeks blushed a sweet rosy hue at what he saw.

On the left side of the rose, a cursive letter J was written on one of the petals with hearts drawn all around it, and on the opposite side, there was a cool S with crappy flame drawings on the side. It was only their initials, but they held so much meaning. 

Jeonghan looks up at Seungcheol with shiny eyes and the biggest smile the older’s ever seen on the boy, and Seungcheol’s heart swells with affection at the adorable sight. He laughs when Jeonghan looks like he’s about to burst with excitement and start doing cartwheels across the whole park, but, right now, it feels like Seungcheol’s the one who’s more likely to do that. 

Without warning, Jeonghan pounces on Seungcheol and pulls him in for a tight hug, burying his head in Seungcheol’s shoulder as the latter tenses up in surprise, caught off guard. His heart is beating out of his chest, and he doesn’t even know what to do.

“Dude, hug me back!” Jeonghan exclaimed, pouting on Seungcheol’s shoulder as the older jumps in his seat and stiffly brings his arms up to hug Jeonghan back awkwardly, his hands hovering above Jeonghan’s back oddly. The brunet groans and pulls off Seungcheol for a second to help position Seungcheol’s hands before he dives in for another hug. When Seungcheol finally gets used to the warmth and happiness he gets from hugging the brunet, he sighs and relaxes, hugging back just as tenderly as Jeonghan’s embracing him.

“Thank you, Seungcheol, really,” Jeonghan mutters, his voice weak like he’s about to cry. Seungcheol only hugs him tighter in response, chuckling.

“I’d do anything to make my friends happy again.”

Jeonghan pulls off Seungcheol to raise an incredulous eyebrow at him and smirk. “Oh, so we’re friends now?” He replied teasingly, and Seungcheol blushes. Were they not friends? He stiffens up once again, and he internally debates whether he’s going too far by not pulling away from their hug-

“Of course, I didn’t mean that. Yes, we’re friends, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan said with a mischievous smile, flicking Seungcheol’s forehead and giggling. Seungcheol pouts and hisses at the sting in his forehead, but he can’t help but grin widely at Jeonghan’s lovable behavior.

…Lovable.

Odd. The word makes him feel butterflies…

It’s probably nothing. 

—

Seungcheol’s speechless. 

Honestly, how and why did he still have this? He stares down at the rose and immediately turns it over, and, sure enough, there’s a cool S written on the petal opposite to the cursive, almost feminine, letter J. 

He remembers that day all too well—every single detail, from what Mingyu and Wonwoo were wearing down to the way Jeonghan’s shirt wrinkled… He didn’t even have to rack his brain for the details; he remembered everything vividly as if it were yesterday. In fact, it was almost as if the memory was even brighter now. He bit the inside of his cheek as his brows furrowed in bittersweet remembrance—how were all of these coincidences lining up, and how the hell were the memories coming back to him in order!

You know what, fuck it! He was going to clean! He was gonna scrub this damn place down to the cracks in between the floorboards! He was not going to let his past eat away at him!

He stood up so quickly that he lost his balance and hit his shin on the coffee table. He jumped at the sharp pain in his shin, hopping around his apartment on one foot and yelping as his face turned a bright red from how much he was trying not to scream. Eventually, the pain subsides, and he’s forced to sit back down again and rethink his choices.

After a few minutes, he slowly—very slowly—stands up from the armchair and tiptoes over to his checklist on the fridge, refusing to let his eyes dart over to Polaroid right beside it. 

TO-DO LIST

• Clean out the fridge
• Take out the trash
• Sweep
• Mop
• Do the laundry
• Wash the dishes
• Wipe down the kitchen counter
• Clean the bathroom
• Browse apartment listings

Mopping was the next thing on the list. He’d already had a head start; he just needed to finish the job!

—

He clutches the metal rod of his mop tightly, moving it back and forth slowly as he stares at the broomstick in the corner of his living room, which he’d just gotten finished with earlier, his stare null and empty. This felt a little familiar. 

He was down to mopping the last room: his bedroom. Instead of feeling more fired up and determined to finish like any sane, not-being-haunted-by-their-ex person would be, he was only more lethargic and undetermined to finish like any being-haunted-by-their-ex person would be. Seungcheol groans loudly and speeds up his mopping, aggressively moving the metal mop back and forth across the dirty floor like he’s trying to scrub away the memories that were beginning to plague him once again. It’s more than obvious that he’s using the mop to release his anger and stress (albeit not so subtly), but hey, at least he finished mopping five minutes later.

He sighs and wipes the sweat beading on his forehead—maybe he mopped a little too hard for his age. The rapper throws the mop aside with a heavy clunk against the wall and plops down onto the bed, causing the bed frame to creak loudly in protest. He places his palms over his face and drags them down slowly, as if trying to peel off a layer of his face; he wishes he could, honestly.

He stares up at the blank, white ceiling, head empty and thoughts strangely silent. It’s weird. All he’s doing right now is lying down, staring up at his ceiling, and… doing nothing. It should be comforting, but a weird sense of guilt starts creeping in—he feels like he should be doing something, but there’s really nothing for him to do. A result of 10 years of stress, he assumes.

He turns on his side and sees the jersey he laid out, sprawled across his sheets.

Yoon, Number 10.

He bolts upright and drags his palms down his face once again. Time to get back to cleaning! He quickly stands up and jogs over to his refrigerator, checking to see what’s left to finish on his to-do list. 

• Do the laundry

He swallows and walks back inside his room, glaring at the god-forsaken hamper filled to the brim with dirty laundry from years back. The idol sucks in a breath and steels himself as he slowly approaches the hamper, taking careful, measured steps as he tiptoes right over to the wooden basket, preparing himself for the putrid aroma.

…And then he remembers he’s acting like an absolute dumbass because a hamper has a lid and the stench wouldn’t slip through the cracks of the cover. The man relaxes and sighs as he walks over to the hamper and drags it over to the washing machine, but pauses with his hands on his hips when he feels like he’s missing something. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes at the dryer, as if it’ll suddenly sprout to life and tell him what he’s forgetting. 

He looks around the kitchen, scratching his head in confusion. And within a few seconds, it hits him.

The jersey—he should probably wash that too.

He swallows and takes a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek. Should he wash the jersey? He wasn’t even going to wear it. The jersey was too small for his broad frame anyway—only an 18-year-old Seungcheol could wear that jersey, but even then, it would be a tight fit.

“You better take care of my jersey,” a faint, delicate voice echoes in his mind, each word punctuated by that contradicting, signature sass laced within every syllable. 

…

He hated how fast the memories came rushing back once again, no matter how hard he tried to stop them. 

—

October 24th, 2015.

It’s been almost 6 months since the day Seungcheol and Jeonghan became friends, and, honestly, they’re a perfect pair. 

Within the 6 months Seungcheol has come to know Jeonghan, he’s learned that Jeonghan is nothing short of a devil in disguise, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, or whatever idiom or metaphor you use to describe a liar, but one thing’s clear: he’s the furthest thing from an angel Seungcheol had imagined him to be.

Jeonghan is nothing short of mischievous. Sometimes, he’d be lurking around the corner, getting ready to scare the living shit out of the poor, unlucky soul that rounded the hallway corner, and other times, he’d be tormenting his classmates and teachers with pranks, but he never crossed the line; in other words, there was never a moment Jeonghan wasn’t playing tricks just to get on everyone’s nerves—with limitations of course. Seungcheol had come to know that Jeonghan was a people-pleaser and was very insecure when it came to others’ opinions on him, especially the opinions of people he knew. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the heartbreak Seungcheol experienced when Jeonghan opened up to him about his love language, which was pranking, and how he didn’t want to cross any lines and make enemies. 

…But maybe that’s why they work together so well. 

Seungcheol, on the other hand, was your typical high school student: laid-back, having fun, playing around with his friends, a little bit loud, uptight when it came to respect, but most of all, a bit head over heels for a boy with long brown hair that completely went against school regulations, a boy with a beautiful face and sharp, feminine features, and above all, a boy only he could keep in check. Mostly.

It was a little while back on his birthday that Seungcheol had realized he liked Jeonghan. It was a Saturday that day, and all the boy was planning to do on his birthday was probably eat seaweed soup, lie around, and listen to music on his iPod, then have some dinner and cake with his family. Yet, on his front door later that afternoon was Jeonghan dressed in a white t-shirt and denim jeans with a fanny pack around his chest, smiling happily. Within five minutes, Seungcheol was suddenly dressed and being dragged off his front porch towards a nearby cafe, where he and Jeonghan laughed and chatted, afterwards dropping by an ice cream parlor to laugh at each other’s ice cream mustaches; Seungcheol’s was a pretty shade of red for cherry, and Jeonghan’s was a light, minty green for mint chocolate chip.

It was the best birthday of his life, and when he realized just how far Jeonghan had gone to drag Seungcheol out of the house for his birthday… It made butterflies swirl all around his stomach, and it made his heart feel like it was shot by Cupid’s arrow. It was taboo and unorthodox for him to like a person of the same gender, but… was it really considered wrong? Jeonghan was open, even confident, about his sexuality to those who asked, and Mingyu and Wonwoo are having their first anniversary next month, and they seem happy as well… If Seungcheol was happy with Jeonghan, why would it be wrong? If anything, it felt so right. 

Long story short, that’s what brought him here to Keimyung University’s gymnasium, sitting on one of the bleachers amid the sweaty and rowdy crowd, practically falling off his seat as he watched the intense volleyball match between Sebong and Apobangpo, but at the center of it all, the boisterous cheers, his squealing schoolmates, was the very boy he came to watch the match for: Sebong High’s genius setter, Yoon Jeonghan. 

He watched Jeonghan’s every calculated move, his steps sharp and precise, no unnecessary movements made unless it was unavoidable. It was mesmerizing, it was admirable, and it was damn impressive. The long-haired setter received and mitigated each of the enemy’s attacks, attacking right back with just as much force by tossing the ball perfectly towards his powerful spikers, who hit the ball with trained force and control. He was the control center, the brain of every play, and he was performing flawlessly today—especially since this match was the final game to determine the champion of the Daegu Interschool Competition. 

Seungcheol didn’t dare move when Sebong’s score turned from 24 to 25; he knew anything could go wrong. Sebong was up by one point, with Apobangpo at 24. It was match point. One last stretch—it was either Sebong High won this and brought home the trophy, or they lost and Jeonghan would be sulking for the next month.  

The referee’s whistle blows, and the almost deafening sound of the volleyball smacking against the court floor echoes throughout the tense and extremely silent stadium, every single student clutching onto the railing and their seats in anticipation as Sebong High’s service ace, Seungkwan, dribbled the volleyball with one hand. The ace took a deep breath, and in a few seconds, he was taking practiced leaps towards the service line. With a leap, jump, and a slap of the ball, it was sent flying towards Apobangpo’s side of the court with speed and power. The enemy team easily receives the ball with the libero, Jimin, passing it towards their setter, Namjoon, who tosses the blue and yellow ball towards their famous outside hitter with a spike recruiters long to claim for themselves, Hoseok. The frightening man takes powerful steps and jumps so high that his face is practically in line with the peak of the ball’s arc, his fierce gaze locking onto the ball as his right hand prepared to spike.

And yet, though Hoseok was feared by even Sebong’s impressive lineup of players, there was one absolutely fearless player who didn’t back down, even at the sight of Jung Hoseok leaping into the air and his palm slapping directly against the center of the ball with pinpoint accuracy: Yoon, jersey number 10. With each move of his eyes, Seungcheol could feel the way the setter was calculating every angle, every move, and every possibility that would make the game shift right back into his control, and judging by the way Jeonghan smirks and locks onto the ball, he’s found it. 

Jihoon, Sebong’s libero, dives forward and just barely manages to receive the ball as he’s sent tumbling towards the net from the force of his rushed fall, but he was pressured into recovering immediately as he stood up and jogged backwards despite the ache in his strained neck, not wanting to get in the way of the other players. Jeonghan zeroed in on the ball, his dark brown eyes and wide pupils tracing the path of the blue and yellow sphere as he rushed up to the volleyball and jumped, both of his arms outstretched as he prepared to set the ball to Mingyu.

But just as Mingyu rushed up to the net and jumped, the blockers dashed his way and sprang upwards into the air, raising their arms and stiffening them, allowing no possible way for the ball to be spiked into Apobangpo’s court. Every single member of the team was in a compromising position; all of the Sebong players were too far away from where the volleyball would land as a result of being blocked, which was the inner area of the center of the court. Seungkwan was near the outer right side of the court, just past the boundary line, while Jihoon was cursing at the pain in his neck and would probably be unable to dive and tumble again unless he wanted to die right there on the court, and Chan wasn’t the best at diving. It was over. To Seungcheol, there was no way for them to attack successfully, and to Apobangpo and the audience, it was a perfect block.

But that’s not what Jeonghan saw.

Right there was a weak spot. The two blockers in front had all shifted towards the side of the court Mingyu was jumping to spike, and the receivers in the back had all flocked behind the blockers in the slight chance that Kim’s powerful spike would pierce through their defense, leaving an empty spot just to Jeonghan’s right, where the team’s weakest receiver was positioned in the far back. 

Talk about lucky.

With one last smirk, Jeonghan performs a setter dump, smoothly tipping the ball over the net as the enemy team watches in devastation and shock, with each player sprinting towards the ball, but it was too late.

The ball had already hit the ground with a resounding thud, and Jeonghan was falling back down onto his feet. 

The whistle blows and the crowd roars as Sebong High’s score turns from 25 to 26, but amid all the chaos of the crowd and the yelps of happiness of the Sebong High players, there was one boy who shouted louder than the rest, his deep voice overpowering the crowd behind him as he ran up to the railing and cheered happily—that man was none other than Choi Seungcheol.

He was so fucking proud. Not to mention, Jeonghan ended the match his way, with the perfect move: a setter’s dump, a move that revolves around deception and not calculated tosses; it was so perfect for Jeonghan, the world’s cheekiest liar—Seungcheol’s favorite liar.  

“THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND!” Though Seungcheol’s heart ached a little, knowing he was only Jeonghan’s best friend, he immediately pushed the thought aside as he yelled and jumped, his heart skipping a beat when he made eye contact with Jeonghan, who was tearing up and smiling from ear to ear at Seungcheol. 

…Who wouldn’t fall in love with Jeonghan when the man smiled at you like that?

The older blushes and stops cheering for a second, trying to process the fact that Jeonghan actually made eye contact with him in a crowd of hundreds of people watching, but he fails to and ends up overheating as his chants grow weaker with every degree his temperature rises. He won’t deny the swell of adoration that’s blossoming in his heart, though. He was so happy for Jeonghan, and he felt nothing short of elation at the sight of the setter giggling as he was being carried and thrown into the air by his teammates, who were chanting his name loudly. The commentator says something, but Seungcheol’s too absorbed by the enthralling grin on the setter’s lips and the majestic flow of Jeonghan’s hair as he’s hurled up into the air, kicking and squealing.

—

After the match, the Sebong High team gathered in the locker room to change, with everyone discussing their celebrations and Seungkwan telling Coach Na to treat them to Korean BBQ as a prize for winning. Coach Na, being the man who loves his team with all his heart, gives in after a few minutes of begging and puppy eyes from Chan and Mingyu. Meanwhile, as everyone’s cheering and celebrating their win, their setter slips out of the room like a ghost, leaving behind no trail of his presence, his jersey in hand, and giggling and mumbling something to himself as he runs over to a secluded hallway where he and Seungcheol agreed they would meet.

Seungcheol was leaning against the wall, his heart pounding out of his chest, and his mind spiralling with about ten million different thoughts and possibilities of the outcomes that would result from whatever Jeonghan asked him to meet him here for. Would Jeonghan slap Seungcheol and tell him to fuck off because he realized that a genius setter like him shouldn’t have friends as lowly and untalented as Seungcheol? Shit, he hoped not. He really hoped not… but it was possible, wasn’t it? Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck-

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a pair of footsteps rapidly approach the hall he’s in, immediately ripping his back off the wall as he stood up straight and crossed his arms like some bouncer at a nightclub. His heart beat even louder and faster. Oh, fuck, the situation was sinking in—Seungcheol and Jeonghan would be alone. They’d. Be. A. Lone.

Holy shit.

“You good there, Cheol? You look like you just saw a ghost,” Jeonghan said, raising an eyebrow and chuckling as he snapped his fingers in front of Seungcheol’s face. The older immediately wakes up with a blush spreading across his cheeks as he laughs awkwardly, putting his hands to his side and gulping. Jeonghan notices his friend’s odd behavior and sighs, taking Seungcheol’s right hand into his and squeezing it. 

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Jeonghan definitely did not know what he was doing to Seungcheol’s heart right now, and maybe the setter’s lucky he couldn’t read minds, because the older’s planning their goddamn wedding in his mind right now. He’s imagining a stunning floral wedding in, uh… Hawaii, with the sun setting and their guests clapping and wiping their happy tears away as they watched Seungcheol and Jeonghan exchange-

What the fuck is he thinking?

Seungcheol shakes himself out of it and takes a deep breath as he tries to relax, and Jeonghan smiles warmly when he sees the older calming down bit by bit.

Eventually, they settle into light conversation to help calm Seungcheol’s nerves. Jeonghan never once let go of Seungcheol’s right hand, the warmth of his palms still very much there and present, but the stiffness ultimately shifted into comfort.

“Okay, I won’t beat around the bush. I didn’t ask you to meet me after our match just to have some small talk. There’s something more important we need to talk about-” Jeonghan paused, sucking in a breath as he looked up at the ceiling, as if it would help him collect his thoughts. 

“Rather, there’s something more important I need to talk about,” The volleyball player muttered, his face suddenly serious as he squeezed Seungcheol’s hand tighter. The older of them couldn’t help but feel an imminent sense of terror. Crap. What if his guess that the genius setter didn’t want to be friends anymore because he realized Seungcheol was but a lowly peasant was true? Oh no, oh GOD no.

Seungcheol doesn’t let his panic show on his face, though, as he simply nods and squeezes Jeonghan’s hand right back, partially to calm Jeonghan’s nerves and mostly to calm his own. He takes a deep breath and steels himself for whatever bombshell Jeonghan’s about to drop on him.

Slowly, very slowly, Jeonghan brought his other hand, the one he was hiding earlier, to the front, revealing his jersey crumpled and tangled in between his long, slim fingers as he brought the smooth fabric up to his chest, looking down at the jersey before looking back up at Seungcheol, and—and is he blushing? Seungcheol’s mind goes blank when he sees a rosy pink spread across Jeonghan’s cheeks and a furious red tinge the tips of his ears. He watches the hypnotic way Jeonghan flutters his eyelashes up at him, and the enchanting manner his eyes shine even in the dimly lit hallway they’re standing in right now.

Yoon Jeonghan is gorgeous.

“Cheol?” Jeonghan muttered, oddly keeping his voice low, as if there were other people in the hallway and he didn’t want them to listen—his voice drags Seungcheol out of his own little world as he blinks and stares down at Jeonghan—beautiful, beautiful Jeonghan.

“Sorry, continue,” Seungcheol mumbled right back, the volume of his voice matching Jeonghan’s careful and hesitant tone. He watches the way Jeonghan’s eyes dart around the hallway before landing back on Seungcheol and taking a deep breath. Just as the older is about to ask what the long-haired boy was doing, Jeonghan stretches out his hand holding his jersey towards Seungcheol, his other hand gripping onto his friend’s hand even tighter.

“I- Um…” The brunet cleared his throat. “I like you, Cheol. A lot,” Jeonghan confesses, staring into Seungcheol’s eyes passionately, his black pupils dilated and twinkling as the blush on his cheeks reddened even further.

Oh my God.

Seungcheol’s face practically bursts into red-hot flames when Jeonghan confesses, his lips parting to say something—anything—but he’s too stunned, too flustered, and too overwhelmed with emotions to respond. He tries stammering something out, but Jeonghan shushes him.

“Wait, wait. I’m not done,” Jeonghan’s voice cracks, and he groans in embarrassment before clearing his throat and untangling his and Seungcheol’s fingers, now holding his jersey with two hands. Seungcheol could barely hear a thing over the loud sound of his heart beating out of his chest and the blood rushing to his cheeks and ears; was this real? Was Yoon Jeonghan really confessing to him? 

“I like you, Cheol. I-I love your dimples, I love your smile, I love the way we contrast each other, I love how you care for Mr. and Mrs. Choi with all your effort, I love the way you take care of even my parents like they’re your own, and- and I love how you’re so patient with me even when I’m always pulling pranks on you, I love the way you know how to balance our dynamic, sometimes keeping our interactions light and happy, while sometimes having deep, meaningful conversations with me, I love… I-... Uh… I love…” Jeonghan blushes furiously when he realizes he forgot the rest of his speech, coughing into his hand aggressively as he tries to remember the remaining few words of his confession.

Seungcheol’s eyes softened, his lips curling into a warm smile as he watched Jeonghan lose his composure just like he always did, every little reaction of his laid bare on his heavenly features that Seungcheol could spend all day looking at. His heart beats with fondness watching Jeonghan being so open about his feelings for Seungcheol, his dimples unknowingly popping out as he holds a hand out and reaches for the jersey in Jeonghan’s hands, their fingers brushing together. The touch sends electricity up both their spines, a faint warmth tingling just beneath their skin, almost as if flowers were blooming across their palms. Seungcheol’s other hand extended toward Jeonghan’s free hand as he tangled their fingers together. And although the older was hesitant at first since he had sweaty palms, it seemed like Jeonghan was suffering the same dilemma. 

Seungcheol looks up at Jeonghan with love painted across his features and affection glimmering through his deep brown irises, slowly taking the jersey from Jeonghan.

“You, Yoon Jeonghan, never fail to stun me speechless,” the older muttered out, his voice soft enough so only Jeonghan hears it.

The air isn’t charged with electricity or maybe tension as most romance books describe it—no, to Seungcheol, it was as if it was the first day of spring, the warm, mellow wind of the season breezing through the snow-covered lands of South Korea, soft, pink petals of the nearby cherry blossom trees floating along the cozy draft of spring, melting away the ice that thawed along the roofs of unsuspecting civilians. To Seungcheol, the air was tinged with the smell of comforting food, and along with the breeze came the noise of his schoolmates, and more evidently, his friends’ chatter and laughter, but amidst it all was the lingering taste of banana milk on his tongue—the drink that somehow tasted sweeter with every sip. 

Within a second, Seungcheol’s pulling Jeonghan in for an unexpected hug, wrapping his arms around Jeonghan’s middle and squeezing him tightly as he nuzzled his head into Jeonghan’s shoulder, savoring the warmth the other boy brought him. 

“I like you too, Hannie,” Seungcheol murmurs into Jeonghan’s shoulder, and he feels the way the younger’s body stiffens at his reply. He notices the way Jeonghan’s arms are practically glued to his side, and he laughs heartily at the irony—last time, it was Seungcheol who was tensing up like this. 

“Dude, hug me back,” he repeated Jeonghan’s words, and when his sentence finally clicks in Jeonghan’s mind, the boy laughs and relaxes as he wraps his arms around Seungcheol’s neck. They absent-mindedly sway from side to side, neither of them speaking—the tender, genuine affection between them was more than enough to explain all of the words they wanted to say; they were afraid their words couldn’t explain everything.

…That’s what was so perfect about them; their relationship never needed explaining.

They both pull away after a while, their faces having matching red blushes as Jeonghan’s hands rested on Seungcheol’s shoulders while the other kept his hands on Jeonghan’s hips, his touch soft but lingering. Jeonghan’s right hand tangles itself in Seungcheol’s hair and gently guides them forward so they’re touching their foreheads together. Both of them fluttered their eyelids closed, humming gently as they remained swaying.

“You better take care of my jersey,” Jeonghan murmured, his voice laced with pure, uncontaminated love and intimacy as he calmly massaged the back of Seungcheol’s hair, slowly opening his eyes, only to find Seungcheol staring right back.

He really wants to kiss him.

And he almost does, already leaning in with Jeonghan moving closer as well, if not for Jihoon rounding the corner and jumping when he sees Seungcheol and Jeonghan so close together, his already pale face turning a shade lighter as he stares at them in disbelief, eyes flickering from Seungcheol to Jeonghan and back and forth repeatedly.

As for Seungcheol and Jeonghan, they immediately pull away from each other when they see Jihoon, their faces a surprisingly identical red with embarrassment. Jihoon looks absolutely shocked, then confused as he parts his lips to say something, but he steadily shuts his lips, just squinting at them with uncertainty. He then shrugs and returns to his usual expression as he walks over to the vending machine.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. You know me,” Jihoon said calmly as he slipped two one-thousand-won bills into the vending machine and waited for his drink to fall. When his Coke finally thudded against the metal of the retrieval area alongside his change, he picked the items up and pocketed the change as he clicked the tab of his Coca-Cola can open, the drink sizzling loudly.

“You can trust me.” Jihoon sips on his can of Coke, and Seungcheol and Jeonghan share a look before they sigh in relief, thankful it was Jihoon who had walked in on them and not someone like Soonyoung, who would’ve definitely tried to keep it secret but would accidentally let the news slip. 

“Oh, and by the way, Jeonghan, Coach Na and the rest of the team have been looking for you so we can celebrate already. Chan’s been whining for the past ten minutes, and I’m pretty sure Joshua’s one more minute away from learning black magic just to curse you.” Jihoon laughed as he stuck his free hand in the pocket of his varsity jacket. Jeonghan sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Seriously? Can’t it wait?” Jeonghan grumbled. “Fine, fine…” The setter clears his throat and tucks a bang behind his ear. He glances over at Seungcheol, unable to resist the lovestruck smile that creeps onto his lips. “I’ll see you around, Cheol,” Jeonghan mumbled, scratching his neck and blushing. Seungcheol could only blush and smile fondly at the boy.

“See you around, Jeonghan.”

—

Now he remembers why he has Jeonghan’s jersey.

The bittersweet memory of the day they started dating felt like a stab wound straight to Seungcheol’s heart. He remembers it all—from the way Jeonghan batted his eyelashes up at Seungcheol right before he confessed, the smooth texture of the younger’s jersey fabric, the feeling of their fingers brushing against each other, the electricity that shot up his spine, and, of course, the warm, tender embrace they shared. 

It felt like he was still there. 

He walks up to the jersey on the bed and sits down beside it, plopping down onto the cherry red cotton of his sheets, sighing as he picks up the jersey and brings it up to press it against his beating heart. He closes his eyes, basking in the silent void that swallows him whole.

Before he knows it, his lips are curling into a frown, and something cold rolls down his cheek. Oh.

He’s crying.

Just moments later, he’s bursting into uncontrollable tears, clutching the jersey tighter to his chest as his heart pounded against his ribcage violently, almost in sync with each of his sobs and gasps for air as he cried his heart out, sobbed to the memory of the love he should’ve kept with him all along, and wailed to what he’d lost, even if it was all out of his power. 

It felt like Seungcheol’s world was shattering yet mending itself. Each time he sobbed, another piece of him was lost, and each second he pressed the jersey against his heart, a fragment of his past was regained. He felt cold, the frostbite of his loneliness creeping up, and yet, the warmth of his first love’s clothing thawed out the frost almost instantly. 

It hurt. As much as he had tried to deny it, it hurt so much. 

Once again, his biggest heartbreak was tearing him apart. 

He pulled the jersey away from his shattering heart, staring down at the stretchy piece of clothing with blurry eyes. “God…” Seungcheol mumbled, his voice weak and small as he placed the jersey down onto his lap and wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, sniffling. He sighs in exhaustion, standing up and picking up Jeonghan’s jersey as he walks over to the washing machine, placing the clothing on the countertop.

A part of him knows—knows that even if he didn’t take care of this jersey, nothing would happen to him; Jeonghan wouldn’t suddenly appear out of thin air, the jersey wouldn’t come alive, and no upper being would whisper in his ear to protect his first love’s jersey. 

And yet… He finds himself placing the jersey inside the washing machine alongside his other colored clothing, the light blue and pink hues of Jeonghan’s clothes standing out amid the bright, vibrant shades of the hot pink, electric purple, and bright blue of Seungcheol’s old clothes.

— 

It all passes by in a blur.

He sits down on the couch, staring ahead blankly at the black screen of his TV. He does that for a while before groaning and throwing his head back against the back cushions of his couch, slapping his palms over his face. Seungcheol was drained—mentally and physically. And, honestly, could you blame him?

The sharp echo of his phone ringing in between the cushions makes him jump out of his seat and yelp out a choked gasp, rolling his eyes when he realizes it’s just his phone. He sighs and plops back down onto the couch, the soft cushioning sinking under his weight as he stuck his hand in between the cracks and pulled out his phone. Seungcheol quickly unlocks his phone using his face ID and picks up the call.

“Hello?” Seungcheol said, sniffling and rubbing his nose in irritation at how clogged it is. He tuts when he hears no reply and complete silence from the other end of the phone, thinking it was probably a prank call. The idol rolls his eyes and brings the phone away from his ear, his index finger hovering above the red hang-up button, when he suddenly hears shuffling.

“Huh? Oh, shit, hi, hyung. I think I might’ve called you by accident. Seungkwan did something to my laptop keybinds and now I’m trying to fix it, but considering I accidentally called you, I’m far from succeeding… These tutorials are not fucking helping,” A deep, warm, and clear voice bellowed out from the other end, which Seungcheol recognized belonged to his groupmate, Vernon. The rapper laughs and shakes his head slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose—that really did seem like something Seungkwan would do.

“Ah, it’s all fine. I was just… Taking a break. Yeah, from… from cleaning,” Seungcheol stuttered out weakly, a bitter smile crawling onto his lips; he was definitely taking a break, just not from only cleaning. 

“Damn, you? Cleaning? I thought pigs would fly first,” A more high-pitched, bold voice commented, which was obviously Seungkwan’s. Seungcheol scoffs and sniffles, squinting at the screen when Vernon turns on his camera, because his swollen eyes from crying earlier weren’t doing him any good.

“Sorry, Seungkwan’s out to get everyone just because I let Bookkeu eat his favorite plush-”

“JUST BECAUSE?”

“...Sorry, Kwan, I meant because I made the grave, horrible mistake of allowing Bookkeu to eat Boo Kimchi,” Vernon apologized softly, looking absolutely tired with dark violet bags under his eyes and his cheeks hollowing as he rested his temple in the palm of his hand. He stared straight at the screen, blinking twice at Seungcheol’s profile picture on his laptop’s display, the rapper’s camera stubbornly off. 

Seungcheol turns on his camera to just start fixing his hair and checking how swollen his eyes are, because he knows Vernon’s the type not to ask.

“Oh my g- hyung, are you okay? Why are your eyes swollen?”

But Seungkwan definitely was—yet Seungcheol’s not complaining.

The idol laughs and shakes his head to himself, fending off dangerous thoughts that could send him into a fresh batch of shed tears and aggressive blowing of his nose. “I’m fine. I just…” Should he tell them? 

“No! Don’t tell them! They’ll judge you for it, and what if they say that Jeonghan’s already taken, and that you’re trying to be a weirdo who goes after taken men?” A little demon speaks on his shoulder, its voice screechy and obnoxious, every word it spits out sounding like a fork scraping against a plate.

“You should tell them! I bet they’d understand. I mean, Seungkwan’s taken right now, but Vernon’s still got a crush on him, right?” Seungcheol couldn’t tell if this one was an angel or a devil. Probably a mix of both.

As the two little shits on his shoulder fought, he groaned in indecision. The last time these two figments of his imagination had a little debate on his shoulders was back in high school when he was faced with…

Jeonghan.

…

“Cheol? You the-” 

“It’s nothing. I’ll go finish washing the dishes, talk to you guys soon,” Seungcheol greeted almost a little coldly, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as he hit the hang-up button before Seungkwan or Vernon could react. He sighs and places his phone down onto the coffee table as he stands up, letting his legs’ autopilot do the rest to take him to the sink.

—

It all passed by in a blur.

He washed the bowls, then the saucers, then the plates, and then the utensils. Now, he’s onto washing the cups and mugs.

He stared down at the dripping faucet as he scrubbed the mug he was holding, the little bubbles getting onto his hand. Seungcheol turned the mug around and studied the cursive, black text hiding beneath all those layers of bubbles.

“J+S” was written inside a heart. 

…

—

December 25, 2015.

It was Christmas Day, but Seungcheol could not be any more nervous. He paced around his room, arms crossed as he glared down at the floor and breathed heavily. His red, fleece sweater with a white stripe (inside the space were plain, green Christmas trees) running across his chest only seemed to weigh heavier on him with each passing second, but that was probably because he was sweating profusely despite the cold air conditioning that flooded his room.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, was on Seungcheol’s bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and face buried in his palms, his right leg shaking violently. He sighed every other minute, sometimes retracting his hands from his face to do either of the following: ruffle his now short hair aggressively, or gulp down at the floor.

“I don’t think I can do this, Hannie,” Seungcheol exclaimed hysterically, raising both of his hands in the air before slapping them against the side of his thighs as he practically jogged in loops around the room. Jeonghan didn’t even bother to laugh—he was tense as well.

“Me neither. Maybe we should just do it on New Year's,” Jeonghan suggested, still staring blankly at the floor as he remained hunched over on his boyfriend’s bed. Seungcheol groans and stops in front of Jeonghan, leaning down to grab his cheeks to force him to look up at Seungcheol and make eye contact.

“No! You’re supposed to tell me we should do it today!” Seungcheol chided, furrowing his eyebrows down at the volleyball player and using his right hand to repeatedly pat Jeonghan’s cheek quickly to try and wake him up. Said volleyball player groans and hits Seungcheol’s hand away, cussing under his breath as he bites the inside of his cheek—at least he was awake now.

“C’mon, Cheol, you know I’d do anything to make you happy, but this isn’t gonna make you happy, it’s just gonna make you delusional!” Jeonghan fussed, pointing his finger accusatorily at Seungcheol and murmuring curses under his breath before sighing and bowing his head once again. The older boy groans and squats in front of Jeonghan, bowing his head in defeat as well.

“Ugh… How are we even gonna tell our families we’re dating…?” Seungcheol mumbled.

It’s silent for a minute. And then- “I mean… We’re only two months into dating… It’s still a little early, you know? That’s why we should move it! I mean, what if we break up later on? At least-” Jeonghan’s interrupted by a sharp knuckle to the head that only hurts enough to make him jump in shock and clutch onto the top of his head. 

“Don’t say that! Jesus, Jeonghan!” Seungcheol tutted as he reached over to his left to knock thrice on his table. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow and pouts at his boyfriend, still massaging the spot Seungcheol hit.

“That hurt! Ugh… What are you doing?” Jeonghan asked, sounding curious but also sulky at the same time. Seungcheol hums before looking up at his boyfriend, reaching forward to tuck one of Jeonghan’s bangs behind his ear as he sighs lightly.

“Knocking on wood. The saying goes that if you knock on wood when something bad is said, it won’t happen,” Seungcheol explained, ruffling Jeonghan’s hair affectionately and humming before taking one of Jeonghan’s hands into his own and kissing it. “And sorry about the hit. I accidentally went too hard on you. I was just surprised because I didn’t want to even think about that happening,” The older boy apologized, staring down at Jeonghan's hand, his thumbs massaging the brunet’s palm.

Jeonghan sighs with a grin and rolls his eyes fondly. “Fine. I forgive you,” he says before flicking Seungcheol on the crown of his head as payback, laughing evilly at the way Seungcheol yelps and his hand flies to his head. Seungcheol sighs, knowing he should’ve expected that, and laughs anyway.

“Okay, okay, I deserve that,” Seungcheol chuckled, letting go of his head as he took both of Jeonghan’s hands and intertwined their fingers. He smiled cheerfully and lovingly up at Jeonghan, his charming dimples sinking into his cheeks as Jeonghan’s big smile revealed his perfectly straight white teeth. 

“I love you,” Seungcheol whispered.

“I love you more,” Jeonghan whispered right back.

Suddenly, the door flings open, and Seungcheol pulls back so fast he does a backwards roll and slams his back against the wall so harshly it makes a loud thud that forces Jeonghan to slap a hand over his mouth just so he doesn’t laugh. In the doorway is Jeonghan’s mother, Jiyeon, dressed in a loose, long red sundress with puffed sleeves, the thick ribbon wrapped around her waist a pretty shade of ivy green that matches Jeonghan’s sweater he’s wearing right now. Her bob is perfectly straightened today, and her makeup is flawless: not a single pore in sight.

“Hi, boys! Dinner’s ready, we’re waiting for you two,” Jiyeon said with a sweet smile, her red lipstick only serving to whiten her teeth even more. Seungcheol’s still rubbing his lower back because he can’t reach his upper back, so Jeonghan swallows down his laughter and nods, grinning back at his mother.

“Alright, mom. We’ll be down in a second, Seungcheol just… tripped,” Jeonghan said with a snort that said otherwise, laughing warmly as he stood up to go help his boyfriend up. Jiyeon, however, raises an eyebrow and bellows out a disbelieving laugh, crossing her arms and leaning against the door- has she gotten taller? And then Jeonghan realizes she’s just wearing heels. He shrugs it off and offers Seungcheol a hand.

“Are you sure you boys aren’t play-fighting in here again? Last time I walked in, Seungcheol also tripped,” Jiyeon said with both concern and suspicion, clicking her tongue and shaking her head slowly. Jeonghan just laughs and waves a dismissive hand, heaving Seungcheol up the best he can as the older boy dusts off imaginary dirt gathering on his fleece sweater.

“It’s fine, Mrs. Yoon… I’m just very clumsy,” Seungcheol said, politely chuckling as he fixed his hair with Jeonghan staring at him almost intensely for a while. He has to resist a blush, but the tips of his ears turn red anyway. 

“Alright… Just- just come down when you guys are okay, okay? Be quick!” Jiyeon shut the door behind her, and both of the boys held in their breath as Jeonghan’s mother’s clicking footsteps clacked away, all the way down the staircase where their families were chatting noisily, only releasing it when they didn’t hear the sound of her heels anymore.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” Seungcheol mumbled frantically, his eyes wide, and Jeonghan’s squinted as he pursed his lips.

“I’m not either.” Jeonghan took a deep breath, and-

“BOYS! GET DOWN HERE ALREADY!” Seungcheol’s father, Yejoon, called out, and Seungcheol groaned.

“We need to get going before my dad eats the whole feast—it’s the only reason he’s so excited for Christmas every year.” Seungcheol sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Jeonghan tilted his head incredulously and laughed.

“Then we'd better hurry up. Last one to the table’s a rotten egg,” Jeonghan exclaimed. “On the count of three! One, two-” But before Jeonghan can even count to three, he sticks his tongue out at Seungcheol just to get on his nerves and runs off, giggling when Seungcheol yells and chases after him, all with a big smile on both of their faces and synchronized beating hearts.

…

They’re halfway through dinner, and they still haven’t said anything. 

Rather… They’re too scared to say anything. 

On one end of the table is Jeonghan, whose eyes keep darting around the table restlessly, his gaze landing on a new person each minute as he tries to act normally, but he can’t, if it wasn’t obvious by the way he kept on blanking out mid-bite and accidentally scraping his fork against the plate, causing everyone at the table to groan in frustration. To add on, his leg is shaking vehemently under the table, bouncing it up and down so quickly that the table actually shakes. Jeonghan’s father, Joohwan, slaps his leg under the table to get him to stop shaking it, scolding him with a mouthful of rice.

And on the other end is Seungcheol, who stares wide-eyed at whoever’s speaking and stuffing food into his mouth like it’s his last meal before the world ends. Jeonghan thinks he looks a little like a chipmunk. 

…That’s all Seungcheol is doing, and somehow, it’s way creepier and stranger than how Jeonghan’s acting. 

After a few minutes of silence, save for the sounds of spoons and forks gliding across their plates and short requests for food to be handed over (and very creepy staring), Seungcheol’s mother, Chaehee, sets her utensils down with a sigh and rests her cheek in her palm.

“Okay, Cheol. What gives? You’ve been staring at me like I just squeezed a bottle of ketchup into your glass of milk,” Chaehee sighed, and the rest of Seungcheol’s family hums in agreement.

“Jeonghan too, Mrs. Choi. He’s the reason the table’s been shaking the past hour,” Jeonghan’s sister, Su-bin, chimed in, sending a questionable look towards Jeonghan.

Alright, game time came a little early, but they got this!

…

They didn’t.

They’ve been opening and closing their mouths for the past few minutes, nothing quite coming out as they both struggled to form coherent words that would explain why they’re acting so strangely. Obviously, they had a reason; they just… couldn’t find themselves to say it. This was way more difficult than they had expected—maybe it’s the way the movies always make gay characters suffer, or maybe it’s the way homosexuality is not normal, and they’re afraid they’ll have to live on the streets tomorrow and celebrate New Year's in an alleyway-

“Jeonghan? Seungcheol?” Jiyeon and Chaehee called out, causing the two boys to flinch and swallow nervously. Jeonghan moves his food around his plate nervously, the table shaking only getting more aggressive by the moment, while Seungcheol purses his lips, staring down at his hands, which were placed neatly on his lap. 

“Oh my g- just spit it out!” Seungcheol’s brother, Seungmin, groaned out, rolling his eyes.

“Jeonghan and I are dating.” The table goes silent, and everyone just looks at them with pure shock written all over their faces. Jeonghan and Seungcheol share a panicked look from across the table, their hearts beating erratically as they tried and tried to find some semblance of their families calming down or maybe trying to get over it, but there’s nothing. They all have their eyes wide with shock and jaws dropped with disbelief. 

Jiyeon is the first to make a move, abruptly standing up from her seat so quickly that the chair slides back noisily, scraping against the oak flooring. Seungcheol can see the way Jeonghan’s face drops and the way he tenses up, squinting his eyes shut in… fear. Nothing hurt more than seeing Jeonghan so scared of his family. Seungcheol clenches his fists and almost stands up when Jiyeon approaches Jeonghan with a resolute look on her face, only for him to stop and unclench his fists when Jiyeon pulls her son into a tight hug.

“Oh, my baby…  You should’ve told us sooner. Me, your father, and your sister would’ve all supported you so you and Seungcheol wouldn’t have to carry that burden all alone…” Jiyeon whispered into Jeonghan’s ear, her voice shaky as she combed the back of her son’s hair lovingly, her other hand slowly patting his back. Jeonghan feels tears well up in his eyes, his frantic heartbeat steadily slowing down as he sucks in a breath and hugs his mother back tenderly. The brunet buries his head into the crook of his mother’s shoulder, tears beginning to fall as he embraces her tighter and tighter.

Seungcheol’s heart swelled with happiness at the sight. He smiled warmly at the two, his eyes softening and dimples deepening as he sighed in relief.

“Seungcheol?” Chaehee whispered from Seungcheol’s left, and the boy was pulled back into reality. He stiffens up and clenches his fists in his lap anxiously, his heart beating out of his chest as he refuses to make eye contact with his mother.

He hears a sigh. His mother was disappointed.

He figur-

Suddenly, he feels a warm hand place itself atop his own clenched fist, and when he sees those signature red nails, his heart skips a beat. The boy looks up at his mother with shiny eyes, and Chaehee isn’t afraid to reciprocate his look with just as much affection and understanding, her coral-hued lipstick curving as she smiles with her pristine white teeth at her son.

“I understand, Cheol. I support you two,” she muttered, squeezing Seungcheol's hand, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin of his hand. Her son tears up and purses his lips, trying to fight back an involuntary frown that threatened to creep onto his lips alongside the tears that were 3 seconds away from bursting.

It’s when Seungmin slings an arm over Seungcheol’s shoulder and pats his back, smiling in silent support, that Seungcheol can’t hold in his tears anymore, each clear drop rolling down his cheek as he uses his free hand to wipe the tears away.

Everyone’s hearts beat in sync at that moment. The sweet, cozy feeling of mutual understanding and love shared around the dinner table truly embraces everyone with the spirit of Christmas: the spirit of true, genuine affection and care shared with those you love. Su-bin and Joohwan switch seats so they’re sitting closer to Jeonghan, staring at the boy fondly, Joohwan sending a silly thumbs up towards his son whenever he looks over, and Su-bin mouthing “I knew you two were dating” towards her older brother. Seungmin and Chaehee, on the other hand, kept giving Seungcheol the physical touch and comfort he needed, whispering words of endearment to their youngest, letting him know he’s accepted and not wrong.

“I don’t fucking understand how you all can accept this,” Someone murmured bitterly, scoffing passive-aggressively as their chair pulled back loudly, disrupting the tender atmosphere and shattering everyone’s immersion in the magical moment.

Everyone pauses and looks up to see the source of judgment, and Seungcheol’s heart drops when he recognizes who it is.

It’s from his own father. 

His lips part in hurt, and his heart aches with pain as he makes eye contact with his father, Yejoon’s gaze cold and hostile, a complete contrast to his father’s usually cheerful and bright demeanor. Yejoon glares at both Seungcheol and Jeonghan from his seat at the table, tutting and shaking his head.

“I thought I raised you right, Choi Seungcheol,” he points his finger angrily at his son, and Seungcheol feels as though he just threw a spear straight through his chest, shattering his already fragile heart. The boy gulps and steels himself for his father’s harsh words, sucking up the tears of sheer hurt before they could even think to burst. He stares into his father’s black, unnerving gaze, feeling small and powerless, despite his outward front of sitting up straight and being able to handle the heavy weight of Yejoon’s words.

He doesn’t even want to know what Jeonghan’s reaction is. He thinks it’ll only hurt even more if he sees his boyfriend’s face.

“NO FUCKING SON OF MINE IS GAY!” He yelled furiously, his voice raspy and uncontrolled. His heart breaks into a million pieces as tears begin to fall, desperately trying to wipe his tears away just to try and look strong, but it doesn’t work. His chest is shaking, but his face is blank and indifferent, and his heart is beating so fast it hurts.

“YEJOON! DON’T SAY THAT!” Chaehee shouted right back, squeezing Seungcheol’s hand in reassurance, but it did nothing to ease the pain. Seungcheol’s father sucks in a breath and slams his fist on the table, causing everyone to flinch in surprise.

“NO, CHAEHEE! I DON’T APPROVE OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND I WILL MAKE GODDAMN SURE THEY STRAIGHTEN OUT AND GET GIRLFRIENDS!” Yejoon retorted scornfully, slamming the table once again, this time so hard that all the plates rattled and some glasses filled with juice and water toppled over.

Seungcheol stands up and storms towards his room, fighting back tears as he marches up the stairs, ignoring everyone calling after him and the back-and-forth shouting of his parents. He kicks the door behind him shut as he takes a breathy, exhausted exhale. He walks over to his bed as the tears quietly begin to fall, his knees giving out midway, forcing him to drop down just in front of his bed. He sighs shakily, turning around in his place so his back leans against his bed, and he curls up into a ball, sobbing into the dark space he’s made for himself. 

It’s lonely. It’s empty. It hurts.

He hears the door creak open, and a small sliver of yellow light seeps into the room, only for it to disappear moments later as Seungcheol hears the door shut. He sniffles and looks up at the figure, squinting through the darkness, and his heart slows down a little when he sees Jeonghan’s outline standing by the door. The older boy swallows and looks back down at his thighs, the tears still falling. 

After a few seconds, he feels a hand patting his hair, and he hears a soft thud fall just right beside him.

“I’m here for you, Cheol,” Jeonghan whispered.

That’s all it takes for Seungcheol to completely let his guard down and break down. Jeonghan doesn’t hesitate to pull his boyfriend in for a hug the moment he hears a sob choke past Seungcheol’s lips, embracing him tightly with his right hand rubbing Seungcheol’s back, and his left hand combing through the back of the older boy’s hair. He hums as he cradles Seungcheol lovingly in his arms, kissing the crown of his head, even as Seungcheol gasps for air desperately and claws at Jeonghan’s back.

“Shh, shh… Just let it all out, Cheol…” Jeonghan whispered, tears welling up in his own eyes—it hurt enough seeing Seungcheol being embarrassed and yelled at in front of both their families, but it hurt even more to see his raw, unguarded reaction to his father’s harsh words. He sighed shakily as he held his boyfriend tighter.

“H–how could he say that…? Why can’t he see that I-I’m still his son…? Wh-why is my sexuality so fucking important to him…?” Seungcheol cried into Jeonghan’s shoulder, face contorted into a mix of pain, conflict, and frustration. He hugged Jeonghan tighter, burying his head into the crook of his lover’s shoulder.

“I hate th-that I care about his words, and I-I hate that I think he might be right, and that something's wrong with us-” 

“Seungcheol, love, don’t say that…” Jeonghan muttered shakily, sighing as his palms slid over to cup Seungcheol’s cheeks, slowly tilting his head upwards so they meet eyes—and the look on Jeonghan’s face is heartbreaking. His eyes are shiny with tears, and the tip of his nose is stained a rosy red. Not to mention, his bangs are messy and disheveled, a few strands sticking to his forehead.

“Th-there’s nothing wrong with us, Cheol. Nothing. You—no, we, don’t need your dad’s acceptance. I love you exactly for who you are, and-and you love me too. Wh-why would you believe that you’re wrong for loving someone? If anything, the world could use more of your love, Cheol… Your love is anything I could ever ask for—unconditional, endless, and honest. If you can’t accept that… then I’ll be here. We can take this one step at a time, okay, baby? I’m always here,” Jeonghan murmured, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against Seungcheol’s, basking in the silent darkness his eyelids provide him. In response, the older boy chokes out a sob and closes his eyes as well, just letting himself calm down and absorb his lover’s words.

Jeonghan flutters his eyes open, staring at his boyfriend as his thumb slowly rubs the older’s cheekbone, caressing his face lovingly. Seungcheol blinks his eyes open after a minute, staring back into Jeonghan’s eyes, their breaths fanning against each other’s faces as their beating hearts slowed down to the soft rhythm of the Christmas jazz still playing downstairs.

“Oh… That reminds me…” Jeonghan pulls away from Seungcheol's embrace, wiping away the tears that had built up in his eyes as he turned around and reached for something under Seungcheol’s bed—under his bed? 

Seungcheol squints at Jeonghan and tilts his head in confusion, furrowing his brows skeptically as he purses his lips into a tight line. The brunet clicks his tongue as he pats under Seungcheol’s bed blindly, and he hums happily when he finally finds what he’s been looking for.

He turns around with a small, square-shaped box wrapped in a tacky red gift wrapper with tiny, green Christmas trees printed all over the paper, and a dark green bow sitting atop the gift-wrapped box, carefully held down by a few ribbons and some scotch tape. Jeonghan looks up at Seungcheol, sniffling and smiling lightly as he holds out the gift towards his boyfriend. Seungcheol tries his best not to coo at Jeonghan’s flushed cheeks as he reaches out and gently takes the present, his fingers brushing against his lover’s. 

“This was supposed to be your birthday present, but… I thought it would be better for me to give it to you right now,” Jeonghan mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of his green sweater as he stared expectantly at Seungcheol, eyes brimming with anticipation and anxiety. Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle affectionately at the brunet’s endearing expression, so he decides not to tease as he gently pulls at the ribbon on top, swiftly untangling it as he unfolds his way through several layers of folds and tape. He sniffles as he tears away some annoying pieces of the gift wrapping that cling to the gift, sighing with relief when he finally strips the present of its paper covering.

He looks up at Jeonghan with confusion written all over his face as he raises the gift: a white box. Jeonghan chuckles and nods, gesturing for Seungcheol to open up the box. He doesn’t complain any further as his hands work at the edges, with his nails digging into the crevices and his tongue peeking out of the corner of his lips in focus. Jeonghan watches Seungcheol with fondness, smiling warmly at his boyfriend’s strangely charming habits.

He slowly takes out the cardboard flap and extracts the item sitting inside the box. He has to let his eyes adjust to the darkness for a moment before he realizes what Jeonghan got him.

It’s a white mug (he assumes), and when Seungcheol turns it around, he sees what looks to be a big red outline of a heart with the letters “J+S” written inside in pure black. The older boy looks up at Jeonghan with big eyes. Jeonghan laughs at his reaction and scoots a little closer to Seungcheol, sitting cross-legged in front of him as their knees touch ever-so-slightly.

“I know getting you a mug is so lame and so boomer-like, but… You did recently mention that Seungmin-hyung accidentally broke yours a while back, and I just wanted to make something for you that was personalized,” Jeonghan muttered, voice cracking before he blushes in embarrassment and clears his throat. “I also hand-painted that heart and those letters,” Jeonghan added, scratching his neck and trying not to look like he cares, when he, in fact, is quite literally shivering in nervousness. 

“But I don’t think it’s a good idea to use that mug around your dad, because-”

Seungcheol bursts into laughter as he shakes his head in disbelief, going breathless as his gums showed and his dimples sank into his cheeks adorably. He stares down at the mug with a fond look in his eyes, still snickering cheekily as he spins the mug around in his hands. Jeonghan gulps anxiously and laughs awkwardly, crossing his arms and clutching his arms tensely. 

“I love it, Hannie. It’s the perfect gift… but who says boomer nowadays?” Seungcheol laughed out, and Jeonghan gasped exaggeratedly like Seungcheol had just asked if water was wet.

“Everyone does! You’re the only one who’s not!” Jeonghan retorted, pointing his finger (jokingly) angrily at Seungcheol with a big smile spreading across his face that completely betrays his faux anger. They bicker playfully, giggling and nudging each other. Jeonghan gaslighted Seungcheol hard, and Seungcheol stood his ground and did not allow himself to fall for Jeonghan’s blatant deception.

They sober up after a few minutes of back-and-forth, lighthearted banter, ending with Seungcheol staring into Jeonghan’s eyes, and Jeonghan staring into his.

“...Thank you, Hannie. This is an amazing gift,” Seungcheol mumbles, and Jeonghan scoots a little closer, chuckling and looking down at the mug he gifted Seungcheol. The brunet looks back up at his boyfriend and smiles.

“I know it is,” Jeonghan whispers, staring deep into Seungcheol’s eyes, who, in turn, stared back as if he were searching for the answers to the universe in his boyfriend’s eyes.  

Well… He guessed the answer to his universe was right in front of him.

They stay like that for God knows how long, their breaths slow and careful, their hearts pounding peacefully, and their faces just inches away from each other. Jeonghan’s breath hitches as he takes notice of their proximity, and Seungcheol blinks at Jeonghan slowly, feeling the electricity in the air begin to spark. “These are the fireworks the movies always talked about,” Seungcheol thought as his tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips that were in serious need of lip balm. 

Every breath, every flutter of their eyelashes, and every single movement was amplified in Seungcheol’s eyes, ears, and senses—he could barely sit still with just how much he was trying to process.

He could see every crackle of electricity around them, could hear every hiss of a firework beginning to take off, could smell the sweet, fruity scent of Jeonghan’s perfume, could taste the scorching tension on his tongue, and could feel Jeonghan’s gaze burning into him. The room suddenly felt a lot warmer, and Seungcheol’s mind raced with a million thoughts, his chest heating up as his heart slowly accelerated, going from deathly slow to deathly quick. It felt like all his memories just melted away with each flit of the brunet’s eyelids, and all his thoughts scrambled up, leaving him clueless, confused, and uncertain whether he was dreaming or if he was awake.

…But one thing was for sure, and it was that he really fucking wanted to kiss Jeonghan.

So he closes his eyes and leans in—wait, they lean in? 

Jeonghan unexpectedly shuts his eyes and leans in as well, and it seems both of them were expecting a quick kiss, so, as a result, they just end up crashing their faces into each other, their lips kissing more nose and cheek than mouth before they quickly pull away with wide eyes, staring at each other in equal shock.

“Did you-” Jeonghan chokes out.

“Were you-” Seungcheol stammered at the same time.

They just tilt their heads at each other in surprise, not until they both begin to crack up and giggle at each other, in complete disbelief.

“You are unbelievable, Choi Seungcheol. You decide to take my first kiss, only to make it crappy? Abso-fucking-lutely unbelievable,” Jeonghan rolled his eyes sarcastically, slow-clapping as Seungcheol laughed and pinched the brunet’s thigh, smoothly setting his mug aside and letting it rest atop his bed. 

“That was my first kiss too, jackass. Now you’ve gotta take responsibility and give me a better second kiss than whatever the fuck that was,” Seungcheol whispered, leaning forward teasingly. Jeonghan huffs in playful irritation and cups Seungcheol’s face with both of his hands, smiling mischievously and rolling his eyes arrogantly.

“Please, I’ve done my research, I know how to kiss someone properly, you just ruined my plan,” Jeonghan shrugged, lightly caressing Seungcheol’s cheeks with his thumbs as his lover huffs out a breath in disbelief.

“Oh, really? I don’t-” 

“You talk too much.” And with that, Jeonghan tilts his head to the side a little, fluttering his eyes closed as he leans in and gently presses their lips together, slightly puckering up, but just enough so his lips are relaxed and soft. Seungcheol, having been caught off guard, stiffens up at the feeling of their lips touching, and he can’t help but go rigid as his face explodes into flames and his heart (for the nth time tonight) thumps aggressively against his ribcage, threatening to just jump out of his chest and start running laps around the room.

Jeonghan pulls away a bit, opening his eyes and looking up at Seungcheol, who looks shell-shocked. He chuckles and runs a searing thumb over Seungcheol’s lip, resulting in the older boy getting a severe case of goosebumps. 

“Calm down, Cheol… This is my first time too,” Jeonghan whispers out, his voice shaky—the cool, nonchalant, and seductive Jeonghan… his voice: Shaky? It was unbelievable.

…Until Seungcheol realized Jeonghan’s hands were trembling just cupping Seungcheol’s cheeks, and his cheeks—no, his whole face was a bright shade of crimson. To add on, his eyes were shiny with random tears that just welled up for no reason, and Seungcheol could very clearly see the anxiety in Jeonghan’s eyes.

He gulps and nods slowly, trying to calm himself down as he takes a deep breath and attempts to relax. 

“O-okay…” Seungcheol murmurs, and they both swallow nervously before closing their eyes and slowly leaning in for a gentle kiss, with both of them parting their lips slightly until they meet.

At first, Seungcheol was kissing more chin than lips, but he couldn’t care less, because it still felt like heaven just getting even the smallest taste of Jeonghan’s strawberry-flavored chapstick. The brunet, having noticed he was mostly kissing the space in between Seungcheol’s nose and mouth, pulls away for a moment, only to lean back in so he can properly press their lips together.

Seungcheol’s half-sure he’s either:

1. About to fucking explode, or

2. Go into cardiac arrest.

Yeah… Both were likely, especially now that Seungcheol can fully taste the faint flavor of honey from the glazed chicken that was served earlier at Christmas dinner, and the overpowering, but sweet, tanginess of the strawberry lip balm Jeonghan always applies. The older boy tries his best to kiss back, relaxing his lips and trying to keep them soft as his hands find their way to Jeonghan’s thighs, delicately resting his palms atop his boyfriend’s thighs as he lets himself melt into the kiss. His touch wasn’t anything that made either of them uncomfortable or awkward; rather, it was soft and lingering, a gentle act of intimacy that helped both of them unwind. 

Seungcheol’s not quite sure how long they’ve been kissing, but he’s certain it’s a long time because when they pull away, they’re both gasping for air. Jeonghan laughs breathlessly, and Seungcheol snorts at the silly sound of his boyfriend trying to laugh despite being barely able to breathe. 

Jeonghan repeatedly pats Seungcheol’s cheek, grinning down at him as he pulls Seungcheol in for a hug, wrapping his arms around his lover’s neck tightly. Seungcheol chuckles and hugs Jeonghan back, his arms snaking around Jeonghan’s middle as they both bury their heads in each other’s shoulders.

“You don’t have to chase after your father’s approval of us, Cheol. We’ll find a way to make things work, I know it,” Jeonghan whispers in Seungcheol’s ear, kissing his cheek affectionately as the older boy hugs him tighter. 

“As long as it’s with you, I know we’ll find a way around this shit,” Seungcheol muttered in response, pressing a short, fleeting kiss on Jeonghan’s neck in reassurance. Jeonghan hums.

“I love you, Cheol.”

“I love you too, Hannie.”

—

Unbelievable, it truly was. 

He places the mug down on the countertop with a sigh, letting his hand go limp to drop the sponge. Shortly after, he takes a step back and rests his elbows on the edge of the sink, putting his head in his hands with an exasperated sigh.

Seungcheol scoffed self-deprecatingly; his head was buzzing with a million thoughts and an incoming migraine. But self-reflection, reminiscing, yearning, what was it going to do for him? Nothing. Even if billions of thoughts swarmed his mind, nothing was going to happen. He wasn’t going to be able to relive the past, he wasn’t going to be able to find Jeonghan once again, and he wasn’t going to hope there was still a chance they could rekindle a burnt-out flame. Seungcheol knew that. He knew that all too well.

He tugs on his hair harshly and bites his bottom lip until it bleeds out of frustration. Fuck the past, fuck the memories, fuck the growing sense of longing beating slowly in the deepest corner of his brain, and fuck the way his heart aches at the thought that he’ll never find Jeonghan once again.

It really hurts. 

Yet, even though his soul languished with the fire that kept him warm all those cold years ago, he found himself wanting to complete the memories—wanting to finish the story, even if he’d be burnt in the end. He mutters a curse under his breath as he pulls away from the sink aggressively, storming towards his bedroom and slamming the door open, letting the wooden door fling open with a crash against the thin walls. Kkuma jumps at the sound of her owner swinging the door open, and she puts her head down on the bed, whining slightly. The rapper feels guilty about scaring his dog; he truly does, but he has a past he needs to turn the last page on. He pulls the closet doors open and removes various items: his hung clothes that he throws on the bed beside Kkuma to give him a better view of what he’s looking for, boxes of random objects he doesn’t have a use for anymore, and some old shoes he stacked near the end of the closet.

Finally, he empties his closet, and there, at the back of all the clutter, he finds a small gift bag. He walks into his closet with a heavy heart, crouches down, and picks up the gift bag by its lace handles. Seungcheol walks out of his dim closet, clutching the dirtied, dust-collected white gift bag to his chest, sauntering over to his bed and plopping down beside his dog. Kkuma gets up, her head still bowed a little as she climbs onto Seungcheol’s lap and lies down, a silent sign of reassurance that greatly calms down Seungcheol’s loud, beating heart. He takes a deep breath before slowly opening the bag, tearing up at what he finds inside.

His past with Jeonghan, his love that could never truly run out, and his high school life were poured into this one object, and to this day, all those memories stay locked inside.

—

October 22, 2016.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol have been officially dating for 11 months and 28 days.

It’s been a rough road for them sometimes, with the whole predicament of Seungcheol’s father’s blatant rejection of their relationship and the struggles of being a homosexual in 2016, but they’ve always made it through. Sure, they’ve fought countless times, yelling at each other in the middle of empty roads and ignoring each other at school, but they’ve always solved their issues with each other before they went to bed. It’s a charming thing about their relationship, really. Seungcheol can’t find himself ever staying mad at Jeonghan, and Jeonghan hates fighting with the people he loves—especially Seungcheol. 

Perhaps they’ve been together for so long just because they’re too in love with each other to ever leave one another.

That’s probably it. They’re each other’s first everything after all.

Seungcheol remembers every single day of their relationship like it all happened yesterday—their first monthsary, which was spent at Jeonghan’s place, just reading manga peacefully and giggling as they voiced out Ban and Meliodas’ lines, their first kiss, which, God, Seungcheol can’t even explain how much it felt like heaven, their first date which happened on the go right after school, with the both of them rushing to the arcade to play the latest release: Time Crisis 5, and, of course, their first time… but Seungcheol thinks he’d rather keep that memory special to only himself.

“What’s got you so dreamy today?” A cool, smooth voice asked from behind Seungcheol, whom Seungcheol recognized as belonging to Minghao, his co-waiter at a restaurant where he started working a part-time job just a few months ago. The older scoffs and grabs his backpack, preparing to head out alongside Minghao, who was scrolling lazily on his iPhone 5, chewing some gum. 

“Well, if it wasn’t already obvious, it’s my lover’s anniversary with me in two days, and I’ve got something really special for them,” Seungcheol bragged, shrugging arrogantly as he scratched his nose and turned to face Minghao. The Chinese boy just raises an eyebrow at Seungcheol and smirks, walking up to the older boy and patting his shoulder lightly as a silent sign of his support. He sends Seungcheol a thumbs-up.

“Congrats, hyung. I’m happy for you.” Minghao said, smiling affectionately, his Chinese accent still slipping into his intonation, and Seungcheol chuckles, ruffling the younger’s hair playfully. He’d only known Minghao for the four months he’d been working here, but he’d felt as though the boy was his little brother. 

“You don’t pronounce 'hae' as 'hai', Myungho. It’s ‘hae’,” Seungcheol corrected, raising an educated finger at Minghao, who hums and nods, making a mental note of the pronunciation in his head. 

“So it’s ‘hae’? Got it. Sorry about that, I’m still not that good at Korean,” Minghao sighed, scratching his neck as he took a step back. Seungcheol chuckles and waves a dismissive hand, smiling.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. If I were in your shoes, I’d have even more difficulty than you are right now,” the older boy joked, laughing as he pointed towards the door with his thumb. “Let’s go?” He asked, and Minghao nodded, pulling out his phone again and walking alongside Seungcheol, the silence between them comfortable and peaceful.

As they’re walking towards the bus stop, Minghao pockets his phone and looks forward, glancing at the buildings passing by them before looking up at the dark, night sky that’s littered with hundreds of small, glowing dots and greyish clouds, the moon resting just at the center of it all, shining down on Earth with its almost ethereal rays. He then speaks up, the next few words coming out of his mouth catching Seungcheol off guard.

“Hyung, the ‘lover’ you always talk about, I notice you always use… No gender pronouns. You always teach me the word ‘lover’, but when I asked my teacher, she said that ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ are the more appropriate terms, and that ‘lover’ refers to no gender. Why don’t you use boy and girl pronouns?” Minghao asked, looking sideways at Seungcheol curiously, his expression mildly curious but otherwise unreadable.

In turn, Seungcheol pauses, his lips parting to say something, but nothing comes out. He does know why he isn’t telling Minghao the gender of his “lover”, but he’s not quite sure if he’s ready to tell his friend that yet. China is a really homophobic country, right?

He bites the inside of his cheek in the midst of his inner conflict—he’s aware that he should be more honest with his co-waiter, and that he should start practicing how to be more open about his sexuality after Jeonghan talked to him about coming out to their friends with their anniversary fast approaching, but he doesn’t quite know if he’s prepared to tell Minghao, who he’s only been friends with for a few months, and face whatever reaction the Chinese boy might have.

“The gender of your lover is a boy, right?” Minghao blurts out, looking calm and collected, stopping in his tracks to look at Seungcheol, who chokes on air and coughs aggressively, also freezing in place as he hits his chest violently. Minghao sighs, unimpressed as he crosses his arms.

“You know, I knew your lover was a boy the moment my teacher told me the gender pronouns. If your boyfriend were a girl, you’d call him your girlfriend, no hesitation. Am I correct, hyung?” Minghao squinted at Seungcheol like a detective searching for clues, raising an unamused eyebrow. The older boy just swallows anxiously and avoids eye contact, chuckling awkwardly.

“Where… No… I don’t know what you’re talking…-”

“Chill. I may be Chinese, but I’m not homophobic. My first kiss was a dude who spat all over me because he thought I was an old friend of his when I was first introduced to the other trainees at Pledis—both situations being a misunderstanding, but I don’t dwell on it. He’s cool and we’re still friends,” Minghao shrugged, running a hand through his hair as Seungcheol stared at him in disbelief. Minghao actually kissed a guy before? And he’s not homophobic?

He breathes out a very deep sigh of relief, clutching at his chest nervously, his long white dress shirt wrinkling underneath his grip. Thankfully, Seungcheol’s heart rate slows down and he’s able to breathe normally after a few minutes of delayed processing. Minghao snorts and hits Seungcheol’s shoulder lightly.

“You seriously didn’t expect me to be homophobic just because I’m Chinese…” Minghao scoffs, rolling his eyes teasingly before squinting at Seungcheol pointedly. “...right?” He asks, his gaze scrutinizing and judgmental, and Seungcheol tenses up again and avoids eye contact, pursing his lips nervously.

“I’m just kidding, Cheol-hyung. I know you aren’t racist,” Minghao giggled, shaking his head slowly, obviously making fun of how quickly the older boy could go silent when he usually scolded Minghao for unknowingly pissing off a customer. Seungcheol curses under his breath and glares at Minghao, pinching his cheek painfully as Minghao gives a short, almost calm yelp of pain. “Jeez, this kid could really stay level-minded in any situation,” Seungcheol thought with a fond smile on his face. 

“You’re so fucking annoying, you little brat,” Seungcheol tutted, letting go of Minghao’s cheek, sighing. “But yeah, I’m dating a guy… I hope you don’t mind,” he mutters, beginning to walk forward once again with the younger boy trailing just behind him.

“Of course I don’t, hyung. If anything, I’m curious to know what gift you got him,” Minghao said, tilting his head at Seungcheol. The older boy scoffs cockily and strokes his chin, looking a whole lot more arrogant than he usually does, and that’s saying a lot because he always looks like he’d walk into a bathroom and stare at himself for 30 minutes to admire his handsomeness.

“C’mere,” Seungcheol says, gesturing for Minghao to lean in close so he can whisper in his ear. Minghao raises a skeptical eyebrow but leans in anyway. He whispers his gift for Jeonghan into Minghao’s ear, and Minghao widens his eyes at the revelation, lips parting slightly in surprise. The Chinese boy mutters something under his breath, his eyes glinting with amazement, before he looks ahead, sighing with a light smile.

“That’s an amazing gift, Seungcheol,” Minghao complimented, words laced with genuine praise for the older boy. Seungcheol grins stupidly to himself, looking down at his feet before looking back up towards the beautiful moon that shone overhead.

“Yeah. I’ve been planning this gift for months now. It’s the whole reason I got a part-time job at the restaurant. And with my boyfriend looking so sad lately, I figured our anniversary would be the best time to give him the gift. I just know it’ll make him so happy,” Seungcheol mutters out, his voice soft and so tender that Minghao can’t help but feel infected by Seungcheol’s dreaminess and domesticity for his boyfriend.

“I know he’ll be happy, Cheol-hyung. You prepared an incredible gift for your anniversary,” Minghao comments, smiling fondly up at his non-biological big brother. Seungcheol smiles down at Minghao and ruffles his hair.

“Thanks, Minghao. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that right now.”

—

Seungcheol arrives home at 11:00 PM with a sigh, carefully slipping his shoes off so he isn’t so loud as to wake up his family. He places his backpack down onto a nearby chair, the exhaustion steadily creeping up to his eyelids—he could barely keep himself awake. His head was swaying back and forth as he yawned and walked over to the kitchen to pour himself a cold glass of water, having been thirsty during his shift since he forgot to bring his tumbler. He blinks slowly as he grabs a pitcher and a small glass, letting the water flow into his cup. The boy sets the pitcher down onto the counter and immediately chugs his glass of water, sighing happily when his dry throat is finally quenched.

“Seungcheol?” A low, raspy voice calls out from behind him, making the boy flinch in surprise before turning around, still holding onto his glass of water.

“Dad, you scared me… What’re you doing up so late…?” Seungcheol asked, exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding in. He made hesitant eye contact with his father, sometimes blinking quickly in succession and looking away, unable to maintain steady eye contact. He wasn’t sure if they were okay already.

Ever since Christmas Day, Seungcheol and his father have been on rocky… No, bad terms. Sometimes, Seungcheol would catch his father walking downstairs to join the family at dinner, but whenever he would see his youngest son, he would tut and walk back upstairs, causing everyone at the table to go silent with realization. Other times, his father would just outright refuse to support Seungcheol in any way, so be it funding his school events, attending his basketball matches, and so on so forth. It was more than obvious that Yejoon refused to approve of Seungcheol’s sexuality, and within these 9 months of ignorance and hard glares from his father, he’s learned to accept it and suck it up. It’s a little depressing, sure, but there’s nothing Seungcheol could do.

“That’s besides the point, Seungcheol. We need to talk,” his father replies, crossing his arms and standing in the doorway, his expression dead serious in stark contrast to Seungcheol’s unhidable surprise. He stares at the faint outline of his father’s face in the darkness, eyes wide with shock. His father vehemently denied any form of communication with Seungcheol, so it was a huge shocker that he’d actually approach Seungcheol to talk.

Seungcheol swallows nervously and nods, pursing his lips anxiously. “Oh… Yeah, anything, Dad. What’s… What’s going on?” Seungcheol muttered out, his voice weak with the nerves crawling all the way up to his head. He sets the glass of water down on the counter with shaky hands.

All Yejoon does in response to Seungcheol’s anxiety is gesture for him to follow after him, slowly turning around and walking towards the living room. The boy immediately nods and trails after his father, pursing his lips and blinking down at his feet, which dragged him over to the living room. He was wide awake now, as if the sleep had been slapped out of him.

Yejoon pats the spot beside him on the couch with a sigh, his expression as hard and unreadable as it always is. Seungcheol sucks in a breath and staggers over to the couch, sitting down next to his father, avoiding eye contact. He was scared that if he looked into his father’s eyes, he wouldn’t like what he found.

“Son, look at me,” his father ordered, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at Seungcheol, waiting for the boy to meet his gaze. Seungcheol blinks, his heart pounding out of his chest as he steeled himself and looked into his father’s eyes.

They’re… shiny.

Unlike Yejoon’s usual one-dimensional anger engraved into his black pupils, this time, Seungcheol found light in them amidst the darkness of their living room and the faint, bluish rays of the moonlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds. This was the first time in months that Seungcheol found something other than contempt—he found guilt, remorse, and above all, just the tiniest bit of love—that love he’d been missing for so long.

“I-...” Yejoon stutters, looking down at the space in between his legs and clearing his throat before looking back up at Seungcheol with those gloomy, regretful eyes.

“I’m sorry, son,” his father whispered out weakly, his voice cracking as he made eye contact with Seungcheol. The boy raises his eyebrows in surprise and relaxes his jaw in complete disbelief. He bites the inside of his cheek, wondering if he was dreaming or if this was reality, because… There was no way his father was apologizing, right…? He had to be mishearing things.

“Dad, what do you-”

“Listen to me, Seungcheol, okay?” He murmured out, his tone all shaky, quiet, and vulnerable as he took a deep breath and exhaled through his mouth.

“I’m sorry, my son, for so many things. I embarrassed you and Jeonghan both at that Christmas Dinner, and I acted like I was the child between us that night. Not to mention these past couple of months… I’ve been a horrible father to you—fuck, I regret not attending every single one of your basketball matches…” His father’s voice cracks once again on the last word before the man breaks down and bows his head in shame with his head in his hands. Yejoon slowly closes his eyes, and before Seungcheol knows it, his father is sobbing with his chest heaving and small, almost inaudible cries slipping past his lips. The man mutters silent curses aimed towards himself under his breath, tugging the hairs at his head harshly in frustration.

And yet, despite the glares, the avoidance, and the neglect Seungcheol received from his father, it didn’t feel satisfying at all to see his dad treat himself like this in front of him—if anything, it felt horrible.

He scoots closer to his father, placing a hand on his back as he fights back his own tears, patting his father’s back slowly in comfort. His heart beat with sadness and pain upon seeing his father break down into tears that Seungcheol had never seen him shed before. 

“I’m so sorry, Seungcheol… Please, forgive me for being a terrible dad…” Yejoon muttered quietly, tears still streaming down his cheeks as he grabbed Seungcheol’s shoulders and looked up at his son, begging for forgiveness. Seungcheol hated how despairing, how pained his father looked, and for a moment, he felt a flicker of what felt like forgiveness bloom in his heart—and yet, though Seungcheol had strongly believed that staying mad about problems that could be resolved with words was irrational and immature, he felt that tiny flame of mercy die out when he reconsidered their relationship and everything about their situation.

He’d been waiting for this day—waiting for the day his dad would apologize so he could hug him, accept his apology, and get this all over with, but now that it’s happening… He doesn’t think that would benefit either of them.

It’s what he’s wanted for months, and yet, he doesn’t want it anymore. It doesn’t feel like his father’s truly made it up to him—how could he with just a few words?

It really was easier said than done to forgive.

“...I don’t think I can forgive you just yet, Dad…” Seungcheol whispers, his heart breaking at his own reply, but he knew that his forgiveness shouldn’t come that easily, especially after 9 whole months of heartbreak and pain because of a person who he thought would love him unconditionally. His chest feels like it’s being ripped apart when he sees his father's crestfallen expression, and he has to swallow down his tears and his heart’s protests as he exhales and grabs his father’s wrists gently, slowly pulling his hands off his shoulders.

“Dad, as much as I want to accept your apology, a few words don’t make up for all of the silent insults you’ve sent my way for more than half a year. It doesn’t work like that. I do, I really do, want to say that it’s okay, but it’s not, Dad. I hope you can understand where I’m coming from.” Seungcheol fails to keep his emotions in check as a tear slips past his eyelids, rolling down his cheek as his father stares at him with wide, equally tearful eyes.

Yejoon swallows and bows his head, taking a hint as he leans back and nods slowly. “I-I understand,” is all Yejoon can muster up the courage to reply. “All I can do is support you then. I-I’ll become a better father so you can forgive me,” Yejoon mutters, a flame of determination bursting in his pupils.

Seungcheol was sure it wouldn’t be long before he forgave him.

The basketball player smiles at his father—it’s a bit stiff, but it’s progress, considering he’s had trouble refinding happiness with his father. He sighs and stares at the man for a while, debating whether or not he should say the next few words. Seungcheol eventually decides that he’ll be the one to take the first step in rebuilding their relationship. 

“Actually, Dad, there’s something I’m gonna give to Jeonghan,” he muttered, leaning back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling with a fond smile. Yejoon turns his head to look at his son and sniffles, smiling back weakly when they make eye contact: reserved, hesitant, but all the while willing to try and patch things up between them.

“That’s amazing, Cheol. What is it?”

—

October 23, 2016

Seungcheol wakes up with an excited grin on his face like it’s Christmas morning, the sun seeming to shine brighter today through the clouds in the sky and the slightly see-through fabric of his red curtains. He stretches and gets out of bed with a happy sigh, practically skipping towards the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. The raven-haired boy smiles at himself so widely he can see the imaginary sparkle that glints when he grins—well, how could he not be so smiley? After all, it was his and Jeonghan’s anniversary tomorrow, and he was way too ecstatic to give Jeonghan his gift. Seungcheol chuckles to himself and grabs a towel, preparing to head into the shower for a nice, warm bath.

He strides out of the bathroom, freshly showered and feeling like a new man, whistling down the hallway and picking his clothes out of the closet as he hums his and Jeonghan’s new favorite song.

“I’m lying alone with my head on the phone…” Seungcheol sang, swishing through his hangers to find his uniform. The door to his room gently drifted open, allowing the gentle breeze of his parents’ room’s air conditioning to sweep in. He shivers at the cold, considering he’s dressed in nothing but boxers, but lulls the cold away with his soft humming.

“BOO!” Someone yells from behind Seungcheol and grabs his shoulders, causing the poor boy to accidentally shout out a very loud curse that most likely reverberated throughout the whole household, his loose boxers threatening to slip from when he jumped in horror. He quickly pulls them back up with red cheeks, glaring at the perpetrator behind him, who was laughing hysterically.

“Hyung, you basta-” Seungcheol turns around to charge at his older brother, who’s in tears from laughter, only to be cut off by a loud shushing noise from the other end of the hallway. 

“BOYS, BE QUIET! I’M ON THE PHONE!” Their mother scolded, her footsteps quickly fading away down the staircase as the two had an intense (one-sided on Seungcheol’s end) stare-off. Seungmin laughs one last time and wipes his tears away, sighing happily, while his younger brother, on the other hand, was not. Seungcheol murmurs curses and insults under his breath before he aggressively takes his uniform off his hanger and throws it onto the bed.

“Sorry, Cheol. You were asking for it with your room wide open. So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Seungmin asked with a grin, plopping down onto the bed right beside Seungcheol’s uniform and crossing his legs. The younger of them sighs, grabbing his pants and slipping them on one leg at a time. Maybe the thought of his anniversary tomorrow made him a little less angry at his brother. 

…Okay, maybe he’s too happy about tomorrow to stay mad.

He chuckles and grabs his belt from across the room, slipping it through the loops with a soft grin. “I was thinking maybe I’d recreate our first date, buy him his favorite banana milk, maybe we’ll play some cards back at his place, and then…” He blushes and chuckles to himself, grabbing his long-sleeved white dress shirt, putting it on, and buttoning it up.

“Shit, dude! Didn’t know you had game like that…! I’m proud of you, bro.” Seungmin nodded in approval, clapping Seungcheol on the back hard, making the younger boy whisper another insult before rubbing his slapped shoulder. Seungmin smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at his little brother. “Make sure you ask Jeonghan to shave in adva-”

“Fucking pervert, I didn’t mean it like that!” Seungcheol punched his brother in the shoulder, tutting as he tried to hide his reddening face. The older of them laughs it off and shakes his head slowly, reveling in the way his little brother couldn’t keep his cool whenever Jeonghan was mentioned.

“Kidding, kidding. If it wasn’t that, then what’s the last item on your agenda for tomorrow?” Seungmin tilts his head and grins cheekily, crossing his arms. Seungcheol bites his bottom lip and fights back a smile, his dimples already beginning to deepen.

“If you’re that curious, then I’ll be giving him that,” he points at a white gift bag on his nightstand with his thumb before hastily trying to tie his tie. Seungmin whistles and stands up, approaching Seungcheol’s nightstand slowly.

“Is it okay if I peek?” The older boy asks, turning back around to check for Seungcheol’s green light before he’s diving for the gift bag, winking one eye closed to look inside the bag. He widens (both) his eyes when he makes out the faint outline of something the color white, before relaxing his face into that of genuine impress and approval.

“You’re serious about him then, huh?” Seungmin backs away from the white bag and rests his elbow on Seungcheol’s shoulder. The younger brother scoffs, fixing his tie one last time before shooing his brother’s arm away. He turns to his closet and grabs his sweater vest, slinging it over his shoulder.

“I am. I really am.” Seungcheol murmurs, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his other shoulder, smiling. Seungmin can’t help but have his heart melt when he sees the love and newfound glow on his younger brother’s face. He walks up to Seungcheol and pinches both of his cheeks, cooing a little and laughing when his brother whines and tries to pry his hands away.

“Go get him, dumbass,” he giggles before slapping Seungcheol’s butt and running away just to get on his brother’s nerves. The younger boy groans and rolls his eyes, running after his older brother despite their mother’s insistent yells that they need to, quote unquote, “park their mouths in a garage and lock it” before their Xbox One is taken away. They glance at each other at their mom’s strange wording and hold back their laughter, stopping in place and covering their mouths. Chaehee was really trying to match her children’s “trendy” humor, and her sons just couldn’t find it in themselves to say it was a little bit cringey, so they just gave her the benefit of the doubt and nodded with Seungcheol slipping on his loafers and Seungmin heading over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of warm milk.

—

“...Jeonghan?” Seungcheol murmurs, leaning in closer to squint at his boyfriend, who was spacing out and staring at his untouched bottle of banana milk in his hands. Jeonghan flinches awake and laughs weakly, looking up at Seungcheol and smiling, but it’s barely there. 

When Jeonghan’s acting like this, it’s no surprise that Seungcheol’s noticing the tiniest little details about his lover, from the way the bags under his eyes seemed to have darkened to the way Jeonghan has rapidly lost so much weight—he’s gotten so skinny that his cheeks barely have any fat anymore, and Seungcheol’s deathly concerned about him.

“Baby… What’s going on? You’ve been getting skinnier and skinnier, and you keep zoning out… I’m concerned for you, Hannie. If something’s going on, you can tell me, love. I hate seeing you like this…” Seungcheol murmurs, sighing as he turns Jeonghan to face him. He fixes his boyfriend’s bangs and tucks them behind his ear, with Jeonghan staring down at his feet and trying his best to keep smiling.

“I’m fine, baby… I’m fine,” Jeonghan whispers shakily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m just tired… Stress from all the senior year projects, I guess…” Seungcheol sighs once again at Jeonghan’s response, not fully believing him. He scratches the back of Jeonghan’s hair, a silent sign of comfort and support in whatever problem his lover is facing.

“Your hair’s long again, and your roots are growing out. Should I dye my hair the same color as yours the next time you have your hair dyed?” Seungcheol chuckled, his heart thrumming with pride when Jeonghan laughed and hit Seungcheol softly in the chest. 

“Just because you said that, I’m coloring my hair rainbow. Gay pride and making a statement at this fucking school,” Jeonghan snickers almost breathlessly, shaking his head slowly as he slumps over and leans against the wall. Something uneasy churns in Seungcheol’s gut when he looks Jeonghan up and down—maybe it’s the way Jeonghan looks like he’s trying to catch his breath, or maybe the way-

“Ah, fuck-!” Jeonghan chokes out, wincing and squeezing his eyes shut as his hand flies to his shoulder, sucking in a deep breath as his knees threaten to give out. Seungcheol panics and rushes over to hold Jeonghan by the shoulder firmly, keeping him up, his eyes widening with shock and worry for his lover as he mutters millions of reassurances in his ear, kissing the crown of his head and pulling the long-haired boy closer to his chest so he’s hugging him.

“Jeonghan, baby, please… What’s happening to you…?” Seungcheol’s voice cracks as he buries his head in Jeonghan’s shoulder, his heart aching with pain, wishing so desperately he could shoulder whatever’s happening to his beloved boyfriend. He hugs Jeonghan tighter by the shoulders, not wanting to let go despite Jeonghan’s shaky protests. 

“There’s nothing, Cheol… I just got a bad cramp…” Jeonghan whispers, trying to comfort his deathly worried boyfriend, hugging him back despite wanting to let go. Seungcheol shakes his head and embraces Jeonghan even tighter.

“A bad cramp? Jeonghan, a bad cramp in your shoulder and both of your legs? No, no, love, that’s not possible,” Seungcheol said, furrowing his eyebrows and sighing deeply as he pulled away to grab Jeonghan by the shoulders firmly. “I told you not to stress yourself out with all of this student council shit, and yet here you are, about to fucking faint, and you’re still saying you’re okay? You’re not, Jeonghan!” Seungcheol gently scolded, his hands cupping his boyfriend’s cheeks and tilting Jeonghan’s head around from side to side, his heart aching at the sight of the long-haired boy’s paling skin. 

Jeonghan’s hands grab Seungcheol’s wrists, his grip frail and easy to break out of. “Seungcheol, that’s enough, please…” He whispers, closing his eyes and frowning. God, could Jeonghan be any more stubborn? Seungcheol shakes his head—if Jeonghan was being hard-headed, he would be too.

“No. I’m bringing you to the school clinic.” His right hand slides down to hold Jeonghan by the waist, and his left hand brings his lover’s arm over his shoulder, holding onto his hand. Jeonghan whines and shakes his head.

“No… Cheol… Please, I’m really okay…!” Jeonghan hits Seungcheol’s hand on his waist lightly, trying to break free from his boyfriend’s strong hold, but he can’t find the strength in himself to struggle—he’s too fatigued. Seungcheol drags Jeonghan over to the clinic despite his protests, ignoring the concerned looks their batchmates send them. He drops Jeonghan down onto one of the beds and smiles at the nurse, explaining the situation to her. 

The school nurse gently closes the curtains around Jeonghan’s bed after tucking him in and giving him some medicine and a cold pack. Seungcheol sighs before approaching her desk near the corner of the cold room, sitting down on one of the plastic chairs in front of her table. She fixes her scrubs and sits down in her chair, leaning forward and making direct eye contact with Seungcheol.

“Is Jeonghan your friend?” She asks, her voice soft and almost empathetic as she looks into Seungcheol’s eyes, making the boy a little nervous. She knew Jeonghan?

“Yes, Ms. Yang. Has he been coming into the clinic lately…?” Seungcheol asked, trying to relax as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, eyes zeroing in on the flowery handkerchief on Ms. Yang’s desk. The nurse nods and sighs when the young boy makes reluctant eye contact with her.

“No, actually, and that’s why I’m so worried about the poor boy. He should be coming in here more often, and yet, I don’t see him more than once a week,” she complains gently, shaking her head slowly, her eyes glinting with the same worry Seungcheol was having for his boyfriend. He breaks eye contact and exhales shakily, looking down at his lap and trying to calm his breathing.

“Do you… Do you know Jeonghan, by any chance, Ms. Yang?” He asked, still staring down at his lap.

“Not too well, but I’m aware of him now, ever since his mother called to inform me about-” The curtain in front of Jeonghan’s bed swishes open quickly, startling both Seungcheol and the nurse. Jeonghan is leaning forward and breathing quickly, a cold sweat dripping down the side of his face as he forces a smile and lets go of the curtain. His hand drops to his side limply as he glances between the two of them, his expression unreadable.

“I… Ms. Yang, can I ask for a glass of water, please…?” Jeonghan mutters, shuffling backwards on the bed and sitting with his back against the short metal headrest. The nurse glances at Seungcheol before nodding, smiling back at Jeonghan worriedly. She stands up and walks across the clinic to grab Jeonghan his requested glass of water. The basketball player can’t do anything but stare at his boyfriend in mild concern and suspicion—he can’t help but feel that Jeonghan’s interruption was deliberate.

He shakes his head and tries to take it off his mind as he stands up and walks over to Jeonghan’s bedside, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead while the nurse isn’t looking. 

“I have to get going now, Hannie. Class is starting in 5 minutes, so I’ll just give you my notes for you to copy, okay? Bye, baby. I love you,” Seungcheol whispers, grabbing one of Jeonghan’s hands and kissing his knuckles sweetly. Jeonghan pauses for a few seconds and nods, and for a split second, Seungcheol swears he sees a flicker of reluctance flash across Jeonghan’s face. 

That flicker of hesitation was enough to convince Seungcheol to skip class just to stay with Jeonghan.

“... Never mind. I’ll just make up an excuse for Mr. Nam, I’m his favorite anyway,” Seungcheol chuckles and walks across the clinic to grab a chair, taking the cold glass of water from Ms. Yang’s hands to bring over to Jeonghan. He pulls up the chair right next to Jeonghan’s bed, handing him the glass of water and sitting down.

The subtle look of happiness that twinkles across Jeonghan’s face makes Seungcheol glad he decided to stay—not that he wouldn’t be glad even if he didn’t see that wink of joy. Just being with Jeonghan made him feel like he was always on Cloud 9.

—

Jeonghan was sent home early that day, and Seungcheol was left sulking in the classroom as he packed up his things after the end of their last period. Joshua, Jeonghan’s best friend, who Seungcheol hasn’t really talked to all that much despite them coincidentally having been classmates for two years, approaches him, tapping him on the shoulder lightly. Seungcheol hums and turns around to face Joshua, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Hi, Seungcheol,” Joshua says, his voice soft and gentle like a mother’s, waving politely at Seungcheol. The basketball player smiles and nods in acknowledgment. 

“Hi, Joshua. Can I help you?” Seungcheol replied kindly, glancing down at his feet and shifting his weight onto his right foot. He looks out the window and notices that the sky is grey and covered in dark clouds, a stark contrast to the earlier morning’s weather when the sky was clear and the sun was beaming brightly.

“Yeah, is it fine if you stay behind for a second? I want to talk to you for a while,” Joshua asks over the loud chatter of their classmates packing up and getting ready to go home, his big doe eyes glinting at Seungcheol almost blindingly amid the gloomy atmosphere of the classroom. Seungcheol is relatively confused as to why Joshua wants to talk with him all of a sudden, but he nods nonetheless.

“Sure, I don’t mind. What’s up?” The black-haired boy sets his bag back down on his seat and leans against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms and staring up at Joshua, expectantly waiting for him to start a conversation.

“I just wanted to check in on you and Jeonghan, if you’re comfortable with sharing that with me?” Joshua murmured, keeping his voice low so no one would hear them as he walked over to the desk in front of Seungcheol and sat down in his classmate’s chair. He maintains steady eye contact—not pressuring Seungcheol in any way. The older boy bites the inside of his cheek and looks down at his lap, collecting his thoughts before looking back up at his boyfriend’s best friend.

“We’re fine—amazing even, it’s just that… Jeonghan’s been acting distant for a few weeks now, and I don’t think he’s been in good health lately… I mean-” Seungcheol sucks in a breath and looks up at the ceiling, trying to fight back tears and the lingering feeling that Joshua’s talking to him for a reason. “He’s been losing too much weight, and- and he’s been so tired lately that every time I see him, it looks like he’s about to faint, and I hate it—I hate seeing Jeonghan so unhappy, and I hate not being able to do anything about it. It’s my fault he’s struggling all by himself, and I-” before he knows it, tears are rolling down his cheeks, and he’s sobbing, bowing his head, desperately trying to hide his tears as he buries his face in his palms.

He feels a warm hand on his knee, gently patting his thigh. He knows it belongs to Joshua, and he knows that he’s trying his best to comfort him. It was hard having to watch Jeonghan always look like he’s on the brink of collapsing every day, but it was even harder to watch the love of his life lose that cheerful spark that had drawn them together in the first place—it was his charm that was the epicenter of his being, and it hurt Seungcheol to see it slowly begin to die out, fading away with each passing day. But the worst part? Seungcheol was powerless. He was too young to know what to do, and yet, he was also too old to tell Jeonghan to just keep smiling through it all to fight back the sadness, because even as someone who just barely turned 18 a few months ago, he knew that faux joy stung more than honest sadness.

“...Sometimes, people go through some things—some things they don’t know how to open up about,” Joshua starts, his voice small and gentle, trying to ease Seungcheol’s intense emotions into something more controlled and less irrational. When Seungcheol looks up at him and tries to blink away the rest of the tears, Joshua continues.

“But just because they’re going through something and they can’t talk to you about it doesn’t mean it’s your fault. It’s never your fault if the person you love is choosing to keep it to themselves, even at the cost of their own happiness; they choose to suffer in silence because they love you. It might be wrong in other people’s eyes, but it’s the right move in theirs,” Joshua whispers, his thumb gently rubbing Seungcheol’s knee in reassurance. The basketball player exhales shakily, shaking his head and trying so hard to force his tears back, even biting his bottom lip just to keep them at bay. After a few seconds of silence, Joshua decides to carry on with his words.

“Jeonghan loves you—way too much, and I mean it. It’s like… the crazy, overwhelming, ‘when you smile, the world stops’ kind of love that Jeonghan has for you,” Joshua chuckles, his eyes beginning to tear up as well, quickly grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket to dab the tears away. Seungcheol grins weakly, blinking down at his hands in his lap. That did sound like Jeonghan. 

He sighs and looks at Joshua, his nose red and eyes teary, gulping nervously.

“I just can’t help but wonder if I did something wrong… Was I wrong by not trying to take the burden off his shoulders and help with his student council work? Or maybe I was wrong by not taking him out on more da-”

“No, Seungcheol, you did everything right, and that’s why Jeonghan’s so scared.” Seungcheol is taken aback when a tear rolls down Joshua’s cheek from his right eye despite his compassionate smile that’s starting to crack, ever so subtly melting into a gloomy, regretful frown. Joshua’s hand on Seungcheol’s knee weakened and simply lay atop his leg, unable to find the strength to keep acting any less terrified than Jeonghan is.

“Jeonghan’s terrified, Seungcheol… Whatever happens, please… Just know that Jeonghan’s doing it because he loves you. He loves you so goddamn much, and he’s so afraid he’ll break your heart… Please, Seungcheol, don’t hate him…” Joshua’s voice cracks, his head bowing as he hides his tears and sobbed quietly to himself. The older boy’s heart breaks at Joshua’s words, and his jaw clenches—he knows that Joshua’s words mean something more than just a random conversation he decided to initiate, and he’s scared to find out what they mean.

He nods, but not because he doesn’t want to speak, but because he can’t.

His heart is speaking louder than his mouth ever could—something is going to happen to him and Jeonghan, and it’s clear that it’s something neither of them wants.

Seungcheol silently begs the gods above to at least let tomorrow be their last happy day together if ever heartbreak truly is approaching.

—

Seungcheol can’t sleep, and not because he’s excited for their anniversary tomorrow, but rather because he’s terrified. How could he not be, after that conversation with Joshua? He’s tried to shake it off multiple times, rolling around in bed restlessly and groaning when his eyes refuse to shut, but nothing’s ever worked. The cycle just keeps on repeating, and the growing sense of worry plagues Seungcheol half to death. He could really use Jeonghan’s warmth—his love right now. He always seemed to calm down when he was around his boyfriend.

So that’s exactly why Seungcheol is grabbing his phone from under his pillow and staring at his and Jeonghan’s private messages, his thumbs hovering above the keyboard on his phone. He gulps and struggles to come up with a message to Jeonghan—how come it felt so difficult now when he did this daily? He types out a text, only to hit backspace, and then something clicks, until he realizes it’s super cringey, and the loop repeats, over and over again.

He mutters a curse under his breath and tuts, hitting backspace aggressively and rushing to type out another text, when suddenly, he hits the call button. He gasps and sits up in his bed in panic, his eyes wide with surprise as his hair sticks up in every direction, perfectly reflecting how hysterically shocked he is right now. His fingers rush to click the hang-up button, but it’s too late when the ringing stops and he hears the faint sound of Jeonghan’s breathing. He squeezes his eyes shut and prepares himself, taking a deep breath. He’s already done it; he can’t back out now.

“Cheol…? Why are y… Why are  you calling…?” Jeonghan asks, his voice barely audible, forcing Seungcheol to press the speaker against his ear. The raven-haired boy can hear the faint sound of heavy breathing, and it only amplifies the worry that's brewing silently in his heart.

“I… I just wanted to hear your voice before I go to sleep,” Seungcheol whispers, his heart beginning to take over his mouth for him. “I’ve been thinking about how sick you were earlier, and I wanted to tell you to get well soon for our anniversary tomorrow. I’ve got a lot of things planned for us,” Seungcheol chuckles softly, already imagining the look on Jeonghan’s face when Seungcheol gives him his gift. He glances over at the white bag on his nightstand, smiling fondly.

Although Seungcheol was expecting a response, he didn’t get one, so he tried to shrug it off by continuing to talk.

“Well… I guess what I wanted to say is that I love you, Hannie. Please get well soon so we can enjoy our day tomorrow together, okay? I’ll see you around at school tomorrow. I love you so much, baby, good night,” Seungcheol whispers, his cheeks reddening like this is the first time he’s telling Jeonghan he loves him—honestly, with Jeonghan, it felt like he was always reliving his firsts.

“...I-I love you too, Cheol, so fucking much. Please, baby, dont forget about m-” 

Jeonghan’s words are interrupted by a sharp knocking on Seungcheol’s door. Shit, he forgot that he’s supposed to be asleep by now. 

“Shit, Hannie, forgot I was supposed to be asleep by now. Gotta go, love you, bye!” With that, Seungcheol hangs up the call and shoves the phone under his pillow, throwing himself back against the mattress and pretending to fall asleep when the door creaks open.

It’s not long until he actually falls asleep, though.

—

October 24, 2016.

Seungcheol wakes up to the sound of heavy rain splashing against his window like bullets, making him groan in annoyance at the loud sound at 6 in the morning. He sits up and takes a deep breath—he was not going to let the rain ruin today. He was going to make today the best day ever for Jeonghan, and some petty rain wasn’t going to stop him. The boy stands up from bed with newfound determination, marching over to the bathroom and finishing up his shower in record time, making sure that he’s prim and proper for today’s special occasion. He slicks his hair back when he gets out of the shower, stepping over to the sink and the mirror, shaving his growing beard and mustache clean until his jaw looks smooth and hairless, save for the stubborn stubble he can’t quite get rid of. He smiles at himself in the mirror, slapping his cheeks lightly just to wake himself up.

“Jeonghan needs to have the biggest smile you’ll ever see on him today. You better not fuck this up,” he muttered to himself, making intense eye contact with his reflection, his hand gripping onto the edge of the porcelain sink tightly. Making Jeonghan happy wasn’t hard; he was just worried that maybe, by the end of the day, he wouldn’t be satisfied, and then Jeonghan might conclude that Seungcheol’s incompetence today to satisfy him would reflect on their relationship in the future, and then they’d break up because-

“CHEOL, HURRY UP! DAD’S DRIVING!” His brother’s voice yelled out, interrupting Seungcheol’s self-deprecating chain of thought, causing the younger brother to jump out of surprise. He groans and drags his palms down his face, shaking his head one last time, the water from his hair sending droplets flying all around the bathroom. 

“You’ve got this, Seungcheol. You’ve fucking got this.”

—

It’s 7:55, and Jeonghan still hasn’t arrived at school—class starts at 8:00.

Seungcheol shakes his leg aggressively, biting at the nail of his thumb as he watches the clock tick almost insufferably, every second feeling like minutes on end and every minute feeling like hours. Why hasn’t Jeonghan arrived yet? Is he gonna be absent? No, maybe he’s just late…

He groans and ruffles his hair aggressively, frustrated that he hasn’t seen Jeonghan yet, his irritation only amplified further by the boisterous drumming of rain against the classroom window. He bites the inside of his cheek, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans forward on his desk and grabs handfuls of his hair, tightening and loosening his grip, hopelessly trying to calm himself down. He raises his head and looks around the classroom, forcing himself not to look at the clock, so his anxiety isn’t intensified.

In the corner of the room, he spots Joshua staring at him with his eyebrows furrowed in concern, only for him to immediately break eye contact and slowly turn away to talk to Junhui. Odd. Very odd. He lets the strange encounter go with a sigh and looks around the room one more time, looking for one of Jeonghan’s close friends to ask why his boyfriend’s not at school yet. 

Just a few seats behind Joshua, he finds Hyungwon, another one of Jeonghan’s closest friends, who looks dejected and seems to be spacing out. He sniffles every other minute, staring at his notebook he was supposed to review for their test blankly, ignoring the worried questions their classmates send their way.

What the fuck was happening…?

Usually, Hyungwon would be more soft smiles and chatting with his friends casually, but right now, he wasn’t acting a lot like himself. He’s turning down conversations with his friends without even hearing them out first, which is extremely unlike him, considering he loves listening to his friends and giving them reasonable advice. Moreover, it looks like he hasn’t gotten any proper sleep in days—but that was impossible; Hyungwon prioritized his sleep over anything.

Their behaviors were lining up too perfectly—this had something to do with Jeonghan’s absence.

Just as Seungcheol’s about to stand up and approach Hyungwon, the sliding door swings open, and their homeroom teacher walks in, carrying his books and learning materials for the new lesson. Seungcheol tuts and stays glued to his seat, internally groaning. Luck wasn’t on his side today. 

“Maybe he’s absent because he’s sick. I’ll just drop by his house later today and give him the gift,” Seungcheol thought to himself, reluctantly grabbing his notebook from his bag, pausing to stare at the white gift bag delicately placed in there before zipping it back up.

He can’t help but stare at Jeonghan’s empty seat during his teacher’s lecture.

—

As Seungcheol opens up his umbrella and dashes over to the car, he feels the weight of his gift getting heavier and heavier in his backpack with each step and splash of his footsteps against the rainwater that’s flooding the streets. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he swiftly got in the backseat of their car, closing his umbrella and catching his breath as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Hey, Cheol, how was school? Did you… You know? Give it yet?” Seungmin asked, turning around from where he was sitting in the passenger seat, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows at Seungcheol. Seungcheol raises an eyebrow and glares at his brother, not shocked that he’s being nosy and meddling once again.

“Oh? You were planning to give that gift to Jeonghan today? How’d it go?” His father asked, glancing at his youngest son in the rearview mirror before starting to drive, the wipers swishing as fast as they could as they exited the pickup area at Seungcheol’s school. Seungcheol smiles at his dad fondly and nods. Seungmin, on the other hand, widens his eyes at their father, lips parting in surprise.

“Yeah, I was, but Jeonghan’s absent today,” Seungcheol sighs, biting his bottom lip in frustration and concern. He was worried about Jeonghan, his previous irritation completely gone as it made way for his concern about Jeonghan’s health. He wasn’t feeling the best yesterday, so it’s completely possible that he’s absent today because his illness got worse. Seungcheol curses at himself for being irrational and getting mad so quickly.

“Wait, then that means you told Dad?” Seungmin asked, still gaping at Seungcheol before turning to face their father, who nodded and continued driving. Seungcheol grabs his phone and scrolls through his chats, clicking his tongue in worry when he sees that Jeonghan still hasn’t chatted. His older brother takes that as a sign not to ask any more questions, and he turns around and leans back against the passenger seat, staring at the dashboard in shock.

Minutes pass by, and Seungmin’s shock eventually subsides. He’s finally able to process the information, and it’s as though an imaginary light bulb switches on beside his head, the cogs in his brain beginning to turn once again.

“Oh, that’s perfect, then! My friend lives near Jeonghan’s place, and Dad’s supposed to drop me off at his house. He could probably circle the block and drop you off at Jeonghan’s so you can give your gift!” Seungmin exclaims, clapping his hands together as Seungcheol lights up at the suggestion. He guessed luck wasn’t completely against him. Yejoon smiles and glances up at his youngest son’s reflection in the rearview mirror, grinning when he sees Seungcheol’s shimmering eyes. 

“Sure. I’ll drop your brother off at Jackson’s place, and then I’ll drive you to Jeonghan’s. How’s that sound?” Their father chimed in, smiling as he rounded a corner. Seungcheol looks like he’s over the moon.

“Holy… Thank you, Dad. Seriously,” Seungcheol beams, his heart swelling with gratitude, barely able to contain his happiness. Yejoon and Seungmin share a look and snicker at their youngest’s adorable behavior, teasing Seungcheol and copying the way he lights up whenever Jeonghan is mentioned. Seungcheol blushes at their jokes, rolling his eyes and vehemently denying ever embodying the persona they’re giving him.

—

The car comes to a stop in front of Jackson’s house, and Seungmin excitedly gets out of the car, opening up his umbrella and dashing down the stone pathway that leads up to his friend’s house. He jogs backwards, waving goodbye to his father and Seungcheol as he approaches the porch, Jackson standing at the door and waving animatedly at Yejoon as well. 

As Seungmin waves goodbye, Seungcheol finally gets off his phone and sighs, his heart rate skyrocketing and his mind clouded with thoughts that only seemed to lower his confidence even more. He wasn’t even sure if Jeonghan would like the gift—his friends say that he will, but what if they’re wrong? What if Jeonghan just refuses to accept the gift?

“Fucking snap out of it, Choi Seungcheol,” he mutters to himself, hitting himself in the forehead with the heel of his palm as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You’ve got this. Jeonghan will love the gift,” he murmurs under his breath, convincing himself to be more confident about his anniversary gift. When he calms down, he raises his head and looks forward, coming face to face with the car’s blurry windshield. 

He sighs and looks out the window, resting his head against the thick glass and trying to see through the streaks of rainwater splattering across his window, when something catches his eye amid the condensation on the glass just across the street.

It’s what looks to be something white and red… He’s half-sure it’s a sign of some sort. It’s placed near-

Wait… He knows that blue gate… Why is it open, and why is the sign on Jeonghan’s lot…?

His heart drops. No, no… It couldn’t be.

He immediately pushes down on the switch that rolls down the window, his eyes wide with disbelief and impatience as he waits for the window to roll down fully, ignoring his father’s complaints about the rain getting in the car—no, no, this was far more important than his father’s admonitions, he couldn't care less about that. When the window rolls down fully, he squints through the whitish fog that the rain creates, his eyes shaking as he attempts to focus on the red sign.

And then he sees it:

FOR SALE

He couldn’t fucking believe it.

Seungcheol doesn’t think twice when he unlocks the car door, grabs his backpack, and swings it open violently, the door threatening to come off its hinges as he sprints through the heavy rain, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes glossy with denial. No, no, no, he must’ve seen it wrong. It must’ve been on Jeonghan’s neighbor’s lot. 

His heart pounds with the ache of refusing to believe it—believe that the sign was on Jeonghan’s lot. He can’t tell whether his tears are spilling or if it’s the rain striking against his face, and he can’t even tell whether this is all real or not—his body moved on its own when it saw the sign. It can’t be true… It can’t.

“Please, Jeonghan, tell me it’s not true-!” Seungcheol yells out in the rain, his voice strained and pleading, yet all his cries were masked by the deafening thunder that struck in the background, but that didn’t deter Seungcheol, not one bit.

He was too terrified about losing Jeonghan right now.

His mind is a mess as he watches the sign grow closer and closer, and he can’t find it in himself to think straight, the painful droplets of rain smacking against his face almost scorchingly. His knees give out mid-run, causing him to trip and fall over into the rainwater flooding the asphalt streets of Jeonghan’s neighborhood. The fall makes him groan in pain when his knees and elbows scrape against the rough surface almost agonizingly, the floodwater doing nothing to cushion his collapse. He screams out in pain when his skin rubs raw against the pavement, but he gets up either way, even despite his palms and knees bleeding and tender, the rain only making his wounds hurt worse.

He limps over to the sign, his tears falling endlessly as he shakes his head in refusal to believe it—it truly was placed on Jeonghan’s front yard. 

“No, no, no, please, fuck, NO!” Seungcheol yells, punching the sign, resulting in the wood cracking under the force of his punch and toppling over, falling down onto the damp grass below it. He turns around and laughs hysterically, shaking his head in vehement disbelief, his hands flying to his hair to tug at the wet locks harshly that threaten to fall out with the excessive pulling of Seungcheol’s hands. He turns back around and sobs, limping over to the porch, his heart breaking with each step he takes, the cold, biting truth behind Jeonghan’s absence slowly revealing itself to Seungcheol.

It was no wonder Joshua talked to him just yesterday about people going through something and not being able to talk to someone about it; it’s no wonder Jeonghan couldn’t talk to him properly last night on the phone, and it’s no fucking wonder all of Jeonghan’s friends were acting odd—everyone knew except for him. Jeonghan told everyone except for him. Jeonghan trusted everyone but him. 

He staggers up the staircase, sobbing and gasping for air violently as he throws himself against the door and bangs on it sharply. “JEONGHAN! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR! PLEASE, JEONGHAN…!” Seungcheol yelled out, his voice cracking and rasping as he pounded on the door, his heart shattering with each second Jeonghan doesn’t answer the door.

“THIS ISN’T FUNNY, JEONGHAN! OPEN THE DOOR! PLEASE, PLEASE… TELL ME IT ISN’T TRUE… PLEASE…!” Seungcheol sobbed intensely and pleaded out with all of his heart, his voice disappearing every other word whenever his throat couldn’t handle shouting and begging. He slams his forehead against the door and cries hard, letting all of his overwhelming emotions out as he prays and begs for a miracle, that maybe Jeonghan hasn’t packed up yet, and that maybe, just maybe, if he waits a little longer, his lover would answer the door, and then he’d embrace him with his warmth and tell Seungcheol it was all just a dream.

But that only happened in movies, and Seungcheol wasn’t the lead actor in a film. He was just a high school boy who struggled with his sexuality, and he was just a kid trying to figure out life with the boy he loved.

He couldn’t have even that.

“FUCK!” He screams, kicking the door and turning around to throw his bag down the staircase that leads up to Jeonghan’s porch, squatting down and sobbing, desperately sucking in air, trying to catch his breath. He punches the wooden pillar that’s nearby until his knuckles hurt, yelling out a curse with each hit and screaming mindlessly in suffering as he pulls at his hair, managing to rip out a few strands in the raw hurt he’s feeling right now.

He doesn’t even care that the white bag has slipped out of his backpack as a result of when he threw it, the gift hidden inside the coated paper bag sliding across the stone walkway—it’s a small, white box with a velvet texture, a tiny, golden heart stitched into the fabric. The magnets of the box break wide open with the force of its fall, revealing its contents, stopping just beside the “FOR SALE” sign as if to mock Seungcheol.

He forces his eyes open and looks down the stone pathway, the tears crashing down at full force when he sees a glint of light sparkle through the grey, almost zero-visibility fog of the heavy downpour. He chokes back a sob and stands up, his palms, knees, and scalp throbbing with pain, but he isn’t concerned about that.

He crouches down and cries as he picks up the pried-open box and stares down at the contents, his heart finally giving out and shattering into a million pieces when he sees it glimmer.

At least the promise ring he bought Jeonghan was real gold.

He would’ve loved it.

He clutches it to his heart and sobs away, unable to control his emotions as he kneels on the walkway and bows his head, slumping over and sobbing. His whole world was collapsing and falling in on him, burying him in the debris of 364 days of memories and temporary happiness, and though those days were once the core to Seungcheol’s spirit that kept him standing on most days, they were now the very things crushing him until every bone cracked.

The pain Seungcheol experienced that day was one that he’d never forget.

It was the pain of losing his first love.

—

Seungcheol doesn’t even try to hold the tears back—he lets them spill as he weakly opens the velvet ring box that’s been collecting dust on the outside. He slaps a hand over his mouth and cries when he sees the beautiful gold band sitting between two soft, black cushions, still as shiny as ever, as if Seungcheol had just bought it yesterday. The hand on his mouth slowly pulls itself away as he brings it down to graze his fingertips along the smooth, narrow, and gold surface of the ring, his bitter teardrops falling onto the band of gold and sliding down the sides.

It hurt seeing this ring after ten years of suffering that was merely pushed down by Seungcheol’s refusal to stay heartbroken.

But the truth? He’s never really moved on from Jeonghan—how could he?

He extracts the ring from between the two black pillows with a shaky exhale, raising it towards his eyes with trembling hands as he tilts it around, watching the way it glints underneath the white rays of his ceiling lamp in his bedroom. His heart aches with nostalgia, both positively and negatively. 

He slots the ring back in place and shuts the box, gently setting it down on the bed right beside him. Seungcheol keeps silent as he gently pets Kkuma, moving his hand softly and combing his hair through his dog’s fur.

It doesn’t help that he misses the feeling of combing his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair.

His facade of indifference and acceptance that Jeonghan’s truly left him cracks bit by bit, and before he knows it, his hand is stopping mid-pet to make way for the dam of tears that rips out alongside the loud sobs that escape from his mouth. Kkuma whines and immediately sits up on her owner’s lap, allowing Seungcheol to hug her tight to his chest as he cries uncontrollably, unable to control his heart, his breathing, his tears, his everything.

“Jeonghan… I miss you…”

—

He pulls the duvet further up his body, stubbornly refusing to let his dog pull the blankets off of him. Kkuma, after barking at Seungcheol for an hour straight to try and get him out of bed, is now trying to bite the blankets off of her dad, who is also being hard-headed and protesting against his dog’s bite by groaning and trying to shoo her away.

He just wanted to sleep after crying for 30 minutes; his eyes were swelling, and his nose was red—plus, it was raining. It was the perfect circumstance for sleeping. Kkuma seems to give up after her dad starts ignoring her, whimpering and climbing up onto the bed instead, lying down on the sheets just beside Seungcheol. Her owner smiles weakly and pats her on the head.

“Good job, girl. Know your limits,” Seungcheol chuckled softly as he turned over on his side, away from Kkuma, gently shutting his eyes and preparing to head off into dreamland…

Until his dog licks a stripe up his nape, sending terrified shivers up Seungcheol’s spine as he yells out in shock and falls out of bed with a loud thump. That was the most energy he’s put into doing something in a while…

—

He comes back from the bathroom, having washed his face and brushed his teeth, before looking out the window, watching the moon overhead shine amongst the twinkling stars in the night sky, illuminating the big city of Seoul just below it. He averts his gaze and sighs as he approaches the bed, noticing that Kkuma is sleeping peacefully, even snoring, as the idol plops down onto the bed and tucks himself in once again.

…

He doesn’t even know he’s dialing an old friend’s number until he hears his phone ring. He turns around and lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling and covering his eyes with the back of his free hand. God, what was he expecting? His friend has probably changed his number since the last time he contacted him. Seriously, how desperate is he to relive the past-

“Hello? Who is this?” A man’s voice chimed from the other end of the line, and Seungcheol can barely keep his emotions in check as his hand over his eyes slowly slides down to his mouth, desperately keeping it shut as his eyes begin to tear up again.

“Mingyu…?” Seungcheol whispers out shakily, his voice cracking as a tear rolled down his cheek. 

“Holy shit… Seungcheol-hyung? You-you haven’t contacted me in ages! Fuck, is it actually you…?” Mingyu exclaimed, his voice shaking alongside loud sounds of shuffling coming from his audio. Seungcheol cries and smiles bittersweetly, nodding, pretending that Mingyu can see the look of relief on his face.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about not calling you for years. I just…” Seungcheol blinks his eyes open and looks up at the ceiling, his gaze glossy. “I just need someone to talk to,” he chokes out weakly with all the strength he has left. The call goes silent, and for a moment, Seungcheol thinks that Mingyu has hung up on him.

“I’m all ears, hyung,” Mingyu mutters, turning on his camera and setting up his phone’s position so Seungcheol can see his face clearly. The younger man’s looks have definitely changed a lot, but that’s a story for another time.

Right now, he needed to talk to someone about Jeonghan.

—

“I put the ring aside for now… It’s on my nightstand, again, and I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t just sell it—it has our initials engraved on the inside,” Seungcheol sighs, sniffling and staring at the familiar white gift bag that sat on his wooden nightstand.

“I wasn’t going to suggest you sell it anyway, hyung,” Mingyu says, taking a big bite of his kimchi rice and chewing it quickly before swallowing it down. He waves his spoon around and adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his messy hair.

“I was going to suggest that you talk to your parents. In real life.” Mingyu reaches for something off-camera, coming back and sitting down on his chair with one half of a Matcha KitKat. He takes a bite out of it and hums in deliciousness before clearing his throat. 

“If anything, I bet they’re the ones who can give you the best advice. After all, they know the full story about you and Jeonghan. Wasn’t it Mr. Choi and Seungmin-hyung who brought you back home after you found out Jeonghan left?” Mingyu asked, biting off half of his KitKat and chewing slowly as he stared down at his camera. Seungcheol scoffs and shakes his head slowly; even if Mingyu can’t see it, he knows Mingyu knows what expression he’s making.

“That’s because they were already there, and they’re my family-”

“Your family who cares and won’t judge you for never really moving on from Jeonghan. Seungmin-hyung left his friend’s party to take care of you at home, and Mr. Choi didn’t go to work for three days just so he could give you medicine when you got a fever from running out in the rain, despite knowing Mrs. Choi could’ve taken care of you.” The words make Seungcheol go silent, realizing that what Mingyu is saying is undoubtedly true. Mingyu nods and sighs, eating the last of his KitKat before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“Go back home and visit them. It was on your list anyway, right? Just skip the rest of the cleaning and visit Mr. and Mrs. Choi. You need their comfort. Call up Seungmin-hyung too and ask him to visit home with you,” Mingyu suggests, swivelling around in his chair and whistling. The older man laughs bitterly.

“That’s a stretch. My brother’s busy with his work, Mingyu. I don’t want to be selfish,” Seungcheol says, running a hand through his hair and sighing. Mingyu glares at Seungcheol, unimpressed and tired of the older’s self-deprecating nature.

“You weren’t selfish enough with Jeonghan, and look where that got you,” Mingyu retorted without considering the weight of his words, his eyes widening in shock when he realizes what he just said. Seungcheol is rendered speechless at Mingyu’s brutal honesty, unable to form a response, but not because Mingyu’s words were harsh, but because they were true, and Seungcheol had a hard time accepting the truth.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Cheol. I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

“No, no, it’s fine… You’re right. I do need to talk to my parents,” Seungcheol replies softly, pursing his lips afterwards. “I… I think I know what to do. Thank you, Mingyu, for all the advice and for giving me a reality check,” Seungcheol quietly thanked Mingyu, who smiled fondly down at the camera and gave his hyung a big thumbs up as a symbol of his support.

“You’ve got this, hyung. Fighting,” he whispers, pumping his fist as Seungcheol grins affectionately at the sight of his high school friend acting like the same teenager he was 10 years ago. People don’t really change, so be it in a good way or a bad way now, do they?

“Fighting. Good night, Mingyu.”

“G’night, Cheol-hyung.”

They end the call after a few minutes, and Seungcheol sighs as he slips his phone under his pillow and stares at the white gift bag in front of him that’s sitting atop his nightstand, contemplating his decisions and whether he should carry through with the plan he has in mind.

He’ll visit his parents a week from now, and a few days before his visit, he’ll call his brother and ask if he wants to catch a flight to Daegu with him. 

The thought of calling his brother after years of silence on both ends made Seungcheol a bit scared, but if Mingyu, whom he hasn’t talked to since his first year of college, embraced him with open arms and listened to him unconditionally, then maybe, just maybe he can expect a warm greeting from his brother, and not just an outright rejection and cold response.

He swallows and forces his eyes shut, lulling himself to sleep.

Seungcheol drifts off into dreamland peacefully, snoring beside his beloved dog Kkuma, unaware that one week from now, his life is going to take a sharp right once again.