Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jumin adjusts his tie in the taxi, dreading the cost of the ride and dreading the party they are driving to through the light snowfall and dreading the fact that Jihyun is sitting beside him in the backseat.

It’s been three days and they haven’t talked about it. He supposes there isn’t much to talk about: they know about each other’s feelings, so there is no use calling what happened that night a mistake.

However, waking up in the same bed with their clothes partly still on and their limbs entangled and a small hangover knocking against their skulls would warrant some sort of conversation, Jumin would think. Especially with everything that was said that drunken night.

Perhaps it’s for the best to save the talk until after the New Year’s Eve party. Jumin’s blood pressure is already high and he doesn’t need more things to keep in mind while mingling with his relatives. That is bound to cause enough stress as is.

The cab drives into the yard of Jumin’s father’s estate. A big building with tall windows, black walls, sharp edges and no warmth. There are a few black cars and even a limousine in the round driveway, parked back to back.

“Welcome to purgatory,” Jumin tells Jihyun, who’s dressed in a suit as well. It was a journey, the last minute trip to find him one in wake of the party approaching, but they managed to find one that fit him well and didn’t cost too much. The recent haircut suits him as well.

Jihyun just smiles softly at him, the way he often does, as the taxi pulls up behind the last car in the long line. Jumin pays and the two get out into the snow with Jihyun holding Jumin’s arm, having left his cane at home. The lights from the estate light up their way to the grand doors, where a butler is already opening them for them, welcoming them inside.

The house opens up to a lavish space with two shiny black staircases upstairs, people here and there enjoying champagne or wine and the little snacks waiters are bringing around. Someone Jumin doesn’t recognize takes their coats and ushers the two to step farther in.

They have yet to even decide where to go when someone already calls from behind them, “Jumin! Is that you?”

The two turn around and come face-to-face with an older man with slicked-back gray hair and an expensive black suit. His face wrinkles when he smiles at Jumin.

“Hello, father,” Jumin replies. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know me. I’ve been missing my one and only son. I’m glad you could attend tonight,” his father says, his eyes slowly drifting to Jihyun. “And this must be your plus one. For some reason, I was sure you were bringing a girlfriend.”

“No such thing in my life, father. This is Jihyun Kim, an artist and my friend. He goes by V.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Han,” Jihyun says with a bow.

“Oh, don’t bother with that,” Jumin’s father says with a laugh and offers his hand, so Jihyun shakes it. He doesn’t mention Jihyun’s sunglasses. “I’m glad Jumin brought a friend, even if a lady friend would’ve been preferred.”

“Speaking of,” Jumin says, eager to change the topic, “you said you were dating someone new.”

“Ah, yes. She must be around here somewhere. She quite likes her champagne.”

“Does she get along well with mother?”

“...Well.” His father laughs. “Let’s just say I’m glad there has yet to be an altercation.”

“...Of course.”

“You should probably say hi to your mother. You haven’t seen her in years,” he says, and Jumin hesitantly and bitterly nods. He doesn’t know why he’s getting a bit sweaty. It’s just his mother, after all. She raised him for the most part. She shaped him into the person he is today. He should have nothing but gratitude for her.

Yet…

“I’ll look out for her. Have a good evening, father,” Jumin says with a nod. His father pats him on the shoulder and quickly finds another pair of guests to mingle with. Jumin turns to Jihyun and before the other man can even say anything, the raven-haired one mutters, “Champagne.”

“Okay,” Jihyun nods and leads the other to one of the waiters to grab a couple of glasses. Once Jumin’s already downing half of his own glass, however, Jihyun asks, “Forgive me for asking, but is this going to be a repeat of the night of the gallery opening?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you going to drink your sorrows away?”

Jumin lowers his champagne glass. People pass by them every which way as they stand behind the grand couches in the living room. “What sorrows?”

“Well, I’m just assuming, but… I think you aren’t looking that forward to seeing your mother.” Jihyun smiles at him sympathetically. “I know I had said that we could drink our worries away, but… We can always just leave, too, if you don’t want to face her.”

“No, no,” Jumin insists, “she is my mother. I have to face her eventually.”

Jihyun looks at him, and even from behind the dark sunglasses, Jumin feels his sincere gaze boring into his own eyes. “But do you want to?”

Jumin swallows and his throat feels like sandpaper.

“I think I’d prefer if we never had to cross paths again,” he whispers, turning his gaze to the floor. “But I know that is impossible. I do love her, as much as a son can love his mother, but… I’m not sure I really like her.”

Jihyun nods, a comforting hand on Jumin’s shoulder. He swiftly changes the subject by asking, “Is this your childhood home? Can I see your bedroom?”

“Ah, it’s not. My father sold it shortly after I moved out.”

“Oh. That’s a shame,” Jihyun says. “I thought I could see where little Jumin spent his days. I wanted to see the drawings on your walls.”

“I didn’t have drawings,” replies Jumin. “If I drew, I mostly designed floor plans or blueprints.”

“You didn’t display them?”

He shrugs. “I never felt they were something worth displaying.”

“Yet now you want to publish a book. Isn’t it incredible how people evolve?” Jihyun smiles, and the smile is so contagious that Jumin has to mimic it.

“I suppose so.”

They both sip their drinks, and while Jumin isn’t against getting drunk, the recent events flood back to mind. If they were to discuss what went down the last time they drank together, he’d rather they were sober. Then again, his father’s estate isn’t really the place to talk about their relationship dynamic.

However, he is but a man, and Jihyun is right there beside him, looking incredible. Jumin can’t decide whether he prefers his companion in a suit and with styled hair or in bed during a slow morning, his overgrown hair falling over his eyes just like his oversized T-shirt slips past one shoulder.

It doesn’t really matter either way because Jihyun sparkles no matter his appearance. Jumin’s only complaint about his current get-up would be that the raven-haired man can’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses. They help Jihyun, he knows, offering support for his vision and hiding the fading scar over his eyelid, but a selfish part of Jumin just wants to stare in those mint eyes all night.

“I guess I should introduce you to some people,” Jumin says, more as an afterthought. He leads Jihyun to a somewhat familiar man with his back towards the two, engaged in a conversation with a younger woman whose dark red dress leaves little to the imagination.

“Hello, uncle,” Jumin says politely, greeting the two with a quick bow when they turn to him. “How have you been?”

The man blinks in surprise, as if unable to believe what he’s seeing. “Jumin?” he asks. “I haven’t seen you since you were half my height, and look at you now.”

Jumin is a few centimeters taller, if they were to get into specifics, but his uncle’s suit is probably twice as expensive as Jumin’s and even the gel in his dark hair must be worth a lot.

“Yes, it’s been a while,” he says, nodding. “This is my friend, Jihyun Kim. He goes by V.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Jihyun says with a polite smile.

“Ah, right. I’m Juwon Han, but you might know me better as Jumin’s uncle,” the man says. “My lovely companion here is the honoured Chairman’s date, Seonmi Park.”

“I guess it’s too early to throw around the term ‘fiancée,’” the woman giggles, and Jumin takes a moment to assess her. She must be around his age with her youthful face, long, healthy hair, and eye-catching curves, which is a bit confusing, but then again, nothing should really surprise him anymore when it comes to his father and his tastes. “I’ve been wanting to meet you, Jumin. Your father just won’t stop talking about you.”

Jumin casually sips his drink. “All good things, I hope.”

“I swear,” she smiles, slightly raising her own champagne glass. “I heard you’ve ventured into the world of literature these days.”

“Oh, you should hear how your old man talks about your career shift,” his uncle laughs. “He keeps wondering where he went wrong.”

That’s reassuring. At least his father didn’t tear him a new one the moment Jumin walked in, but maybe that just means that a storm is approaching.

“Oh, don’t be silly!” Seonmi chuckles, casually swatting Juwon’s arm. “Art can make a fortune these days, if only you’ve got the skills and connections to prove it. V, what do you do?”

“Art doesn’t do much when the company needs an heir,” Juwon notes before taking a sip of his own drink. “I guess it’s good to have hobbies, though.”

“Ah, I’m an artist. I mainly work with oil paints,” Jihyun chimes in. “I’ve had my work shown in places like Cheongdam-dong a few times, but usually I prefer smaller galleries that feel more intimate.”

“I see you’re associating with different people these days as well, Jumin,” Juwon notes with a chuckle. Jumin has always had a hard time telling when the man is just joking and teasing him compared to when he’s insulting him, which is probably the main reason he usually turns down the Han family dinners.

“That’s quite the fancy neighbourhood,” Seonmi says, eyeing Jihyun. Jumin can’t be sure, and it’s a bit early to be throwing accusations around, but the way she tilts her head and brings her arms closer together to push out her cleavage distinctly reminds him of the girlfriend his father had when Jumin was seventeen. He was the heir and she had a plan, he supposes.

“Yes, I thought it might impress you,” Jihyun chuckles light-heartedly. Seonmi seems to struggle with her response, but the conversation moves on with or without her.

“What’s your education, Mr. Kim?” Juwon asks. Maybe it'd be foolish to expect a man of his age to use the preferred stage name of a younger man.

“K-Arts, sir. Department of Fine Art.”

“I see. Jumin attended a SKY university back in the day,” he says and Jumin briefly rubs his furrowed brows. Before he can even answer, though, his uncle already continues, “Maybe it doesn’t matter, though, since he appears to have thrown it all away.”

“I’m not at all surprised that Jumin achieved something like that. He continues to amaze me,” Jihyun smiles. “I’m sure you will be just as impressed when you read his upcoming book.”

Juwon snorts. “I did read the first one. Jumin certainly had a way of filling up the page without saying much at all.”

“The self-help book?” Seonmi asks as if eager to be included in the conversation. “I haven’t read it but the cover design was classy for sure!”

“My current project is fiction, actually,” Jumin points out, which he already knows is a mistake before Juwon’s eyes can even widen.

“I didn’t peg you for a storyteller. You used to be so… rational and realistic as a child. I even remember your mother complaining about it.”

Ignoring how Seonmi’s smile falters at the mention of the woman whose shoes she would be filling if marrying into the family, Jumin just nods and says, “Yes, well, it’s often difficult to face the fruit of your own labour. Perhaps she’s happier with me now that I’m embracing my creativity.”

“Yes, I’m sure she’s happy knowing that her only son spends his days writing stories instead of contributing much to society,” Juwon says with a deep belly laugh.

“I suppose she can’t have her cake and eat it too, can she?” Jumin asks as his polite smile keeps tightening until it burns his lips to keep it up.

As if sensing the silent war of lethal glares accompanied by courteous smiles, Jihyun joins the conversation once more. “Ms. Park, what do you do?”

“Ah, well, I’m interning at C&R currently,” she says, twirling a strand of brown hair around her finger. “It was nothing short of a dream-come-true when I met Juyoung, Jumin’s father, when I was starting out.”

So he’s not even above throwing his line into his own waters to reel in a fish anymore. Soon Jumin’s father will probably get caught on his own hook, but Jumin supposes this has nothing to do with him anymore.

“Speaking of romance,” Juwon says, looking at Jumin. “Isn’t it about time you found yourself a wife? Maybe she could smack some sense into you regarding the company. Your father won’t live forever.”

“Yes, it’s quite troublesome,” Jumin says with a deep, fake sigh. It’s a shame Jihyun’s attempt at de-escalating the situation didn’t work, as it seems Jumin is too petty not to strike back. “Especially with your four daughters. Maybe you could squeeze in a son before it’s too late?”

“Don’t play with fire, nephew. Who knows when you’ll start regretting this rebellion of yours?”

Family politics are exhausting. Jumin has already finished his glass and Seonmi quickly waves down a waiter to get them all a refill.

“Besides,” Juwon gulps down a generous amount of champagne, “you’re not that young anymore. As you keep distancing yourself from the family line, the women who are interested won’t be around every corner anymore.”

“Have you considered that that might have been one of my goals?”

His uncle laughs. Jumin tries not to let the vein in his forehead pop before the new year begins.

“Mr. Kim, has Jumin told you about his childhood?” Juwon asks, leaning into their makeshift circle as if to imitate whispering. “From the day he entered preschool, little girls from good families would approach him. By high school, he was getting love letters and confessions weekly. Yet he never accepted a single one.”

“Not a single one?” Seonmi asks, surprised. “Surely there must’ve been some girl who sparked your interest? I’m sure I would’ve been all over you if we were in school together.”

Jumin glances at Jihyun, who’s standing his ground against this man he just met but who has apparently settled on humiliating Jumin in front of his friend.

“I never saw the point. What good is a relationship without love?”

“See, he would say things like that from a young age despite his parents telling him that you can’t judge a book by its cover. Yet for some reason little Jumin thought that every girl was out to get him. I see he hasn’t changed much now,” Juwon explains, and Jumin strangely feels like he’s currently being bad-mouthed by a high school bully. “If it is love that you desire, Jumin, I have to tell you that things aren’t always that simple. With the way things look right now, you will have to find someone who puts up with you for your strengths, and hope that the love forms later on.”

“You mean someone who puts up with me for my connections and status,” Jumin hums.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t talking about your lively personality,” Juwon chortles. “I’m just saying, Jumin, waiting for true love won’t get you anywhere. Marriage is a contract above all else.”

After two seconds of intense eye contact during which Jumin tests out if he has developed superpowers capable of turning people into stone, Seonmi turns to Jihyun once more with a bright smile and asks, “Are you seeing anyone, V?”

“Ah, well… It’s a bit complicated,” he responds, which is the most he and Jumin have talked about their relationship in the past three days. “But I do have a person I’m interested in.”

“Oh, like a courtship stage?”

“You could call it that, I suppose.”

“Look, Jumin, even your artist friend has found a woman he wants to settle down with,” Juwon says. “There are plenty of fish in the sea and you can’t just keep looking for that one golden koi and ignore all the others around you.”

“But what if I just love the taste of golden koi fish, uncle?” Jumin asks with a tilt of his head. He earns looks of confusion.

“...Was that meant to be a joke?” Juwon asks.

“It was, yes. I do not typically eat carp.”

His uncle sighs, rubbing his face. “It seems my teachings are not getting through your thick skull.”

“Perhaps you should give up for now, then. There are a couple of hours left in the year,” Jumin points out. His speech may be polite but it must be becoming rather clear that he’d rather be doing anything but having this conversation. “I wonder if you can get through to me before midnight.”

“Maybe I’ll leave that up to Carolyn,” Juwon mutters between sips of his drink. Jumin feels his body grow stiff. “She’s always managed to knock some sense into you, at least. Wasn’t she around here somewhere?”

As Jumin’s uncle looks around the room rather dramatically, Seonmi bows her head. “I should go find Juyoung. It was nice meeting you both.” And so she escapes the situation before Juwon can spot Jumin’s mother in the midst of guests mostly dressed in black.

Jumin’s grip around his glass tightens as he tries to think of an excuse to exit the conversation too. It’s a bit surprising that his own flesh and blood would unnerve him more than the young woman his father is dating who is clearly just after his wealth.

“Jumin, didn’t you say you’d introduce me to someone else?” Jihyun asks suddenly, and both of the Han family men look at him. “I must’ve forgotten their name already.”

“Oh, right. I think I see them across the room,” Jumin improvises, placing a hand on Jihyun’s arm to guide him away. “Please excuse us, uncle.”

Before the older man can get the chance to respond, the two other men flee the scene to the direction of the lobby and the stairs. There are many people around, some of them recognizable to Jumin and others not so much, but he’s already rather tired of talking to relatives and business associates.

“That was intense,” Jihyun notes as they finish their champagne and give the empty glasses to the waiter passing by. “Does your uncle have a problem with you?”

“Well, he is the younger brother. If I was never born, he would’ve been next-in-line to become the CEO of the company,” Jumin explains with a shrug. “I think he’s bitter that I’ve thrown away the opportunity he has been dying for.”

“Has he always been like that?”

“...I think so, but he’s never been that present in my life.”

“I see.”

Jumin lets out a heavy exhale. “I’d like some fresh air, but it might be impolite to ask for our coats before midnight.”

“Do you think there might be less people upstairs, then?”

Jumin looks over at the fancy stairs. “We could check. There are so many bedrooms that some of them ought to be empty.”

Jihyun nods, and with that, they dart around all the guests to start ascending the stairs. Jumin has only visited the estate a few times, but he is aware of the general layout, even if upon arriving on the second floor, the hallways before them look much like a maze.

“By the way, I’m sorry for mentioning that I’m kind of seeing someone,” Jihyun says as they walk down a hallway with white walls and many, many doors. “I don’t want it to become uncomfortable if people ask more questions.”

“It was easier to say that rather than have my uncle attacking both of us for our life choices.”

“Well, I didn’t say it just because of that,” Jihyun says with an awkward smile. “I’d like to think my words were accurate.”

Jumin glances at him.

“Although… I did want to point out that this person I’m courting is my golden koi fish,” the other man says. “That sometimes you can be fortunate enough to find a person you love and who loves you without any expectations, but I didn’t want to upset him further.”

“Yes, that… That could have struck a nerve,” Jumin mutters, trying to ignore the way his heart is sparking ablaze. “Perhaps he has a point, though. Most aren’t lucky enough to find a person like that. That’s the philosophy I’ve been operating under for most of my life.”

“I wonder how many hearts you unknowingly broke during your adolescence.”

“Not many, I’m sure. I wasn’t close enough with any of the girls to warrant them actually falling for me.”

It kind of seems like they’re walking in circles, or maybe each hallway truly just looks the same. The paintings on the walls are different each time, though, so they can’t have done a full lap yet.

“I don’t know…” Jihyun tilts his head, taking Jumin in. “Looks can be a big factor in that.”

“Is this your way of saying I’m handsome?”

“Absolutely,” he grins. “Who wouldn’t fall for you when you look like that?”

“What if I were to tell you that as a teen I had braces, acne and bad posture?” Jumin asks.

“Did you?”

“No.”

“I bet you would’ve been cute even if that was the case.”

“I was just another stuck-up rich kid,” Jumin says. “I would bump into another student during PE and ask them how big of a check I should write as compensation while I was helping them back up.”

“So you were generous too. The whole package,” Jihyun chuckles. Jumin playfully nudges him in the side. “I wonder how we would’ve gotten along if we met back then. I used to be pretty uptight and subdued to please my father.”

“I can’t really picture you like that.” Jumin looks Jihyun over, and even with the formal suit and styled hair, something about him just screams warmth. “You’ve always been very kind, at least for as long as I’ve known you.”

“That’s one way to say ‘pushover,’” Jihyun laughs. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t find a balance between who I was as a teen and who I am now, but I guess the common ground is that I’ve always been eager to please.”

“Well, I think you’ve improved with that. You’ve started hogging the shower before me.”

Jihyun smiles softly. It’s the kind of expression that Jumin wants to hold in his hands and cherish. “When I go in after you, my hair doesn’t have enough time to dry before we go to sleep,” he points out.

“That’s because you refuse to use the blowdryer.”

“Using them can damage your hair, you know.”

“Ah. We wouldn’t want that.” Jumin stops walking to run his hand through Jihyun’s turquoise hair, careful not to ruin the styling. He knows it smells good, because the shampoo, gel and perfume Jihyun uses all smell good, yet a part of him still wants to lean closer to experience the combined scent once more.

“Jumin, isn’t that you?” Jihyun asks, and Jumin lowers his hand to follow the other’s gaze. Indeed, there is a framed painting of him on the wall. They take a few steps closer, and the piece seems familiar in the sense that he remembers it being on the other side of the upstairs lobby. They’ve come full circle and they’re back by the stairs.

“It is. I believe I had just turned nineteen when it was painted. We used to have family photos taken, but that tradition died out. I kind of forgot this even exists.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Jihyun says, stepping a bit closer. “Not that I can see it that well, but I can tell that it’s you.” He reaches out but holds back from touching the canvas, fingers lingering a few centimeters away from the chest of the figure that is young Jumin. “I can tell the artist put a lot of effort into this.”

“They should’ve, given how much they were paid for it,” Jumin says. It’s a portrait of him from the waist up, a navy suit on his body and his hair perfectly set. He’s not smiling, but he’s younger. Somehow more lively even with no joy in his expression. “I prefer the one you drew for free.”

Jihyun lowers his hand and turns around. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do. Elizabeth was in my lap back then. You captured her beauty perfectly.”

Jihyun looks like he’s struggling to hold back a smile before he finally loses the battle. “I should still have that saved. Among other drawings of you. I don’t think I ever showed you everything.”

Jumin tilts his head, an idea appearing in his mind. “I wonder just how many drawings of me you have.”

“Probably closer to twenty,” the other man hums, lips twisting a bit as he thinks.

“That many?”

“I like beautiful things, Jumin. What can I say?” Jihyun shrugs casually. “It’s harder to sketch now, but I’ve started doodling things that I like again. We might reach thirty in no time.”

“You know, Jihyun.” Jumin boldly steps closer, easily trapping Jihyun between two versions of Jumin, the painting displayed behind his back. He’s not very good at teasing, but maybe it’s time he gives it a go. “With how much you’re immortalizing me, someone might think that you have a crush on me.”

Jihyun pauses for a second, but quickly accepts the challenge. “Really?” He taps his chin. “Huh… I guess I might. Do you think you’ll accept my confession if I write you a letter about it?”

“I don’t know… I heard you’re kind of courting someone else,” Jumin muses, taking another step forward. His self-restraint should be rewarded as he has not yet grabbed Jihyun’s waist. “Something about a golden koi fish or something?”

“Oh, yeah, that…” Jihyun tilts his head in thought. His cheek twitches like holding in his laughter was becoming more and more difficult with each exchange of words. “Maybe it’s for the best that I keep quiet about these feelings of mine. I heard you really like the taste of golden koi, and the chance of you feeling the same way as me would put me in danger of getting bitten.”

Jumin pauses, leaning over Jihyun with the few centimeters he has on the man. Their scene might be heading nowhere, but sometimes it’s just fun to kid around. “Right. It’d be rather inconvenient to bite the one you love.”

“No, more like it’d be rather inconvenient how much I might like it,” Jihyun says innocently before smiling at the other man mischievously, and once the words process, it becomes rather clear that Jumin has lost the challenge. He turns his head away to minimize the visions of Jihyun’s bare neck, inviting Jumin to bite like he was nothing but a bloodthirsty vampire. However, the action does not minimize the degree of blushing Jumin must endure.

“...You play dirty,” he mutters. Never before has he thought about sinking his teeth into Jihyun, yet now the idea has been planted in his mind.

“You started it,” Jihyun points out. A finger presses to Jumin’s cheek to make him face the other man again. “I didn’t lie, though. Well, maybe a bit about the biting. The rest of it was true.”

“...I see. I’ll be expecting a love letter on my desk by tomorrow morning, then.”

Jihyun laughs and leans forward, but right as the top of his head is about to rest against Jumin’s chest, the front door that they have a front-row view of from up above opens and closes. For a second, Jumin forgot where they even were.

“We walked in a circle?” Jihyun asks in surprise, but Jumin just grabs his wrist and pulls him into the nearest room, closing the door behind them. It’s a bedroom of some sort, not that Jumin pays much attention to it in the darkness before placing Jihyun against the wall and gently pressing both hands to his chest.

As he breathes the other man in, he momentarily forgets why they needed a private space in the first place. Right, the party. His family. Their expectations.

Jihyun lets him recharge for a good while before saying, “About the biting thing.” Jumin looks back up at him, tilting his head slightly. “Well, I guess it’s kind of presumptuous of me to assume we’ll ever get to that point, but… If we were to ever, say, get more intimate, I think it’d be important to talk about what we like and dislike beforehand,” Jihyun says, avoiding Jumin’s eyes even when he’s able to hide behind his sunglasses.

Jumin purses his lips for a second because the thought of even being able to be with Jihyun has always come before the other aspects of a romantic relationship. It didn’t cross his mind much prior to three days ago. The idea that he could run his hands down Jihyun’s naked skin and touch him everywhere.

In the end they ended up just falling asleep on top of each other with their pants still on, but Jumin wasn’t unhappy with that. He’d rather they were sober if anything more were to happen.

“You’re talking as if we’re already dating, Jihyun,” Jumin hums, because if he thought about things more deeply at the moment, he would probably explode. “Which is strange, because you haven’t even asked me out yet.”

Jihyun chuckles softly. “Since when do couples say ‘I love you’ before they even start dating?”

“Do you wish to take those words back, then?”

“I don’t, I’m just saying that we aren’t exactly following a strict guideline here.”

Jumin inhales calmly. “Can you just ask me out, Jihyun?”

Jihyun tilts his head, smirking playfully. “What’s stopping you from doing it?”

As much as Jumin enjoys when the other man’s playful side comes out, sometimes it truly appears just to get on his nerves. A tease, some would call Jihyun, but Jumin fears he loves him all the same.

“I think it just… would reassure me, if you did it,” he admits, perhaps more seriously than he meant to.

Jihyun reacts to the tone, brows furrowing a bit. They never turned on the lights in the room so it makes sense for him to slip off his sunglasses and hang them from his breast pocket. “What do you mean?” he asks, those mint eyes looking straight at Jumin, illuminated brighter than anything else in the room.

“I know that you feel the same way. I don’t doubt it for a second,” he states, choosing his words carefully. “But having feelings towards someone doesn’t always mean you’re ready to be with them, and I want to be sure that you’re not agreeing to it just because I’m the one who’s asking.” He looks down. “So, I suppose what I mean is that I don’t want to push you into something new if you’re not yet over—”

“Jumin.” Jihyun lifts the other man’s chin with one hand and smiles at him softly. “You don’t… have to worry about me so much. I wouldn’t have kissed you that night if I wasn’t ready.”

“...I kissed you, technically.”

“But I didn’t push you away, did I? In fact, I remember challenging you to do it.”

“Fair enough,” Jumin sighs. He leans forward and presses their foreheads together. “...I assume you’re ready, then.”

Jihyun’s hands sneak up to Jumin’s neck, fingers digging in the hair at the back of his head. “I love you, Jumin. I really, really love you, and since I’m not the published author here, I don’t have the right words to express it properly, but… You feel like home to me. And for a couple of years before I met you, I didn’t really feel like I had a home elsewhere, so… The fact that we met, and grew close… It means everything to me.”

Jumin swallows hard, shivering at nearly every word. He tries not to interrupt with some pathetic babbling of his own, as Jihyun soon continues with, “Jumin Han… Would you please—”

Someone pulls the door open without warning, the bright light from the hallway flooding the room at such speed that the two men are paralyzed for a couple of seconds before they manage to separate.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” someone says, and although Jumin was just squinting his eyes at the person in the doorway in order to identify them, the distinct voice makes him freeze in place. “Oh. It’s you, Jumin.”

Jumin bites down on his cheek. It hurts more than usual, maybe because the wound had recently started healing.

“...Hello, mother.”

She flicks the lights on, revealing her true form wearing a classy black dress that fits her short black hair, and Jumin strangely feels like everything he has ever held dear will soon be ripped away from him, leaving behind only clawmarks.

“The Chairman did mention you bringing a plus one,” his mother says, her light gray eyes shifting onto Jihyun. He bows at her before slipping his sunglasses back on.

“It’s nice to meet you. You can call me V, I’m a close friend of Jumin’s.”

“That’s not a proper name, is it?” She takes a step closer, her arms crossed. “I should at least know the name of the man I have to compensate for Jumin’s behaviour.”

“What ever do you mean, mother…?” Jumin asks, but his voice comes out weak and fragile.

“Ah, nothing of that sort was happening, I assure you,” Jihyun says. “We were just talking. And if you insist, you can call me Jihyun Kim. Should I call you Jumin’s mothe—”

“It’s Carolyn. I don’t care too much for formalities,” she says. “Now, may I get past you two to change my shoes?”

So out of all the rooms they could’ve chosen in this maze of a house, they picked the one Jumin’s mother is occupying for the night. Brilliant. Jumin tries to pretend his tie isn’t currently choking him.

“Of course,” he says and steps aside so his mother can walk between them and search through a suitcase on the footstool at the end of the luxurious bed. “We will leave you to it, then.”

“Jumin,” she says, like a warning. He hasn’t heard anyone use that tone with him in a while now, so maybe that’s why it alarms him so. With a deep inhale, he glances at Jihyun before stepping deeper in the room.

“Yes?”

The woman who gave birth to him sits on the grand double bed and switches her high heels for some sort of ankle boots with a shorter heel. Even monsters from scary stories can’t stay young forever, Jumin supposes.

“Why are you here?” she asks, and Jumin stills. He doesn’t think she’s implying that he shouldn’t have come to the party. It’s more like she’s genuinely curious, even if her curiosity has always taken a cold, stiff form.

“Because I was invited?”

“Indeed, you were, but have you noticed something about the rest of the guest list?” Before Jumin can even begin thinking about it, his mother continues, “Everyone who was invited is either part of the family or associated with the company. You, as of over a year ago, are neither.”

Jumin stares at the back of her head as she zips up her shoes. It’s so cold in the room that it almost feels like he’s at home. Maybe no one can escape their true calling in the end.

“I would assume my genes didn’t come from nowhere,” he says, polite but dry.

“Do you know how I felt, seeing all those headlines about you when the news broke out?” She stands up, smoothing out the hem of her dress and still facing the windows to the dark outdoors. “It really felt like everything I did was for nothing.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered that no one was too happy with my departure from C&R,” Jumin replies with a nod. He has a growing fear that if he does as much as breathe at the wrong time, something will strike him like a whiplash.

“You’re correct in that regard,” his mother says and turns around. Her eyes are hard as steel. Jumin remembers being taller than her just a few minutes ago. He can’t tell if he is a child again or if he’s just sinking into the floor. “Given that you have decided to give up on the family, I see no reason for you to attend any more of these events.”

“Am I not welcome because of my career change?”

“It’s not just about your career, Jumin, don’t be naive,” she sighs. “Values, principles, pride, reputation — they’re all at risk when you decide to do something so impulsive. And your public refusal to fulfill your role in the family affected not only you, but all of us. Your foolish behaviour impacted the entire family.”

Jumin stares at the ground between them. He’s not sure he would be able to focus his eyes even if he tried to. Everything is just very fuzzy.

“I heard they found someone to take over my position at the company, though,” he points out, voice wavering.

“And how does it reflect on the Chairman when his own son would rather risk unemployment than work for him?” She places a hand on her hip and looks at Jumin, and he feels forced to meet her eyes. It sort of feels like he’s being held up as well as together by strings. Maybe cutting them would mean being free, but it would also mean falling apart.

And her gaze is so cold. He wonders if she has ever felt happy to see him, or if he has ever done anything but disappoint.

“The least you could do, in your position, is refrain from causing any more hurt. You gave up on this family a long time ago, yet now you’re here, rubbing more salt into the wound.” Her eyes move past Jumin, to somewhere behind him. “This isn’t really even your scene anymore. I see you associate with a more unconventional crowd these days, too.”

“What do you suggest I do, then?” he asks calmly like his legs weren’t just jelly at this point.

“Frankly, maybe you should just leave,” she says with a shrug. “The only thing you were ever good at was following orders, and now that you’re giving that up too, there is no place for you here.”

“I see,” he whispers. He has so many things to say; so many years worth of pent-up frustration and hurt brewing inside him, yet now that his mother is right there, in front of him, he is powerless.

Following orders. Obeying. Doing exactly what he is expected to do. Achieving all of those things, Jumin would’ve assumed his mother would have been satisfied with him. It was never enough, though. He doesn’t know what he could’ve done differently.

“I can ask someone to call you a car. Does your friend live far away?” his mother asks, walking past him. He turns to follow, only freezing when he spots Jihyun still by the room entrance, standing still. He didn’t think to ask him to step outside, that’s true.

Well, that’s quite humiliating; just how pathetic Jumin becomes when faced with a person he barely knows anymore.

Jumin glances at Jihyun, but it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking behind those sunglasses. Maybe he’s waiting for Jumin to progress at his own pace.

“We live together,” Jumin says, which appears to evoke some sort of a reaction, given that his mother stops right as she’s reaching for the door handle. She looks at Jihyun, who gives her a small smile.

“Yes, your son is a pleasure to live with. He’s very caring and creative. Maybe you could—”

“He’s not my son,” she interrupts calmly, pulls the door open and leaves. The thud as it closes is rather loud.

The two are left in the room, and when Jumin thinks about it, it is true that his mother has never referred to him as hers. It shouldn’t surprise him that this time is no different.

“Ah,” Jumin stares at his feet that keep getting more and more blurry, “this is strange.”

“Jumin,” Jihyun says as he hurries over, two arms quickly wrapping around his shoulders to pull him into an embrace. Jumin feels his lip tremble as his hands find their place on Jihyun’s back, hugging him tightly. “Should I have interrupted? I didn’t know— I didn’t want to make things more complicated.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, trying to take deep breaths. He buries his head in the crook of Jihyun’s neck, shielding himself from the bright lights by hiding his eyes in the other man’s hair. “I don’t know why I always become so… around her.”

Fingers slip into Jumin’s hair, cradling his head close. He feels Jihyun’s fast pulse, which makes him feel only a bit better about his own rapid heartbeat.

“Strangely, I feel like I’ve been disowned,” he chuckles weakly. He didn’t want to acknowledge the tears, but they’re there, slipping down his cheeks and onto Jihyun’s shoulder. “I suppose it was just a matter of time.”

“I don’t want to overstep, but… it really seems like your family prioritizes their expectations over your own wishes,” Jihyun whispers. “Those kinds of people aren’t always worth keeping around. I should know.”

“...I could’ve kept working at the company.” Jihyun’s hand in his hair stills. “If I wanted to. I wasn’t burnt out or anything, I just… didn’t want to do it anymore. I wanted to do something I enjoyed. And I knew, I should’ve known, how others would react to such a change. I knew, yet I still did it.”

“I’m glad you did it,” Jihyun replies, and Jumin pulls away just a bit to straighten up and wipe his eyes. “I understand that it’s different when you’re the one under pressure, but one day you would’ve woken up, maybe five or ten or twenty years from now, and regretted everything. Just because something is bearable doesn’t mean it’s right for you. Your family’s wishes aren’t always your own, and they definitely don’t take priority over your own self.”

“I wish they could be,” Jumin mumbles. “Everything would be… so much more simple.”

“Wishes like that rarely come true.” Jihyun looks down briefly, lip twitching as if deep in thought. “I’m not sure I like your mother either. I already expected it, given… what you’ve shared about her, but… Twenty years is a lot of time to work on yourself and she…”

“She seems like she’d still lock me in a basement at any given opportunity?” Jumin asks with a dry chuckle. Jihyun grows stiff and he sees his eyes widen behind the dark lenses.

“I wasn’t… going to phrase it like that.”

“It’s fine, I— Well, I’m not over it, exactly. Or I thought I was, but now I saw her and,” Jumin takes a deep breath, “she hasn’t changed one bit, so now it’s all coming back, I suppose.”

Jihyun frowns. Jumin knows that if the man somehow had the ability to take away all those years of pain, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Time machines don’t exist, however, so all that is left to do is to continue on.

“I rarely care about the opinions of others, but it does… sting, I suppose, knowing that even my own family thinks that I’m a disappointment,” Jumin spells out.

“That’s not true, actually,” Jihyun points out. His hands sneak up to hold Jumin’s face, cradling it with warmth. “Remember when you suggested taking those Christmas photos together?”

Jumin blinks. “I do, yes. I should’ve booked an earlier appointment, though, because we only got the results after Christmas so we couldn’t really display—”

“When we talked to Jaehee and Hana about the photos, you called us a family,” Jihyun interrupts with a small smile. Jumin pauses. “You, me and Elizabeth. We aren’t even dating yet you didn’t hesitate at all.”

“Well… It just felt natural to me,” Jumin replies, his brows furrowed. He doesn’t remember any deep internal battle when saying those things. No, it slipped out like the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m not saying that you need to ignore the importance of your upbringing or the people who raised you.” Jihyun strokes his cheek with his thumb like it was the most natural thing in the world to him, too. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… Family isn’t always decided by blood. And I know for certain that Elizabeth and I are not disappointed in you at all.”

Jumin lets himself smile, even if weakly. “This almost sounds like a proposal. Us, as a family.” He then sighs deeply, calming his breath and leaning against one of Jihyun’s hands. “It does feel better to focus on someone who actually wants what’s best for me.”

“So tune out the background noise, and focus on me tonight. You’re doing what you love and that’s all that matters.”

He pulls in a shaky breath, closing his eyes briefly to tune out everything else aside from the feel of Jihyun’s warm hands on his cheeks. He’s practiced this for years now: drifting into a safe world with no hurt and no pain as he holds his eyes shut. It has never worked.

Not before now.

Jihyun’s soft fingertips, the steady hum of Jumin’s own breathing. The warmth, the love. It’s so overwhelming that it threatens to tip this scale of his over and send him shaking and crying for entirely different reasons.

Slowly, Jumin parts his eyes. Jihyun is still there, which was obvious given the touch of his hands, but it still matters; him being there. Smiling softly, like nothing had ever been wrong  in their world. Or perhaps more like many things had been wrong, the two of them shattered pieces on the ground.

Jumin is quite sure that overseas they call this technique of repairing something broken like shattered pottery with gold lacquer kintsugi. To show that even if something isn’t perfect, it still works. That no matter what happened in the past, two pieces can join together and still be beautiful. Maybe there’s a golden connection between Jihyun’s delicate fingers and Jumin’s skin at this very moment, making all of this worth it.

He wants to say all of this out loud to his companion, but instead he says something else entirely.

“I want to kiss you, Jihyun. Can I?”

“Yes,” Jihyun says with no hesitation, like a promise. And Jumin would lean down — in fact, he’s already leaning down while taking Jihyun’s hands in his — if it weren’t for the door behind the mint-haired man’s back opening once again.

“Ah, Carolyn said I could find you two here,” Jumin’s father says with a chuckle, and it’s probably for the best that Jumin managed to separate Jihyun’s hands from his face before his father stepped inside the room.

“You were looking for us?” Jumin asks, looking over Jihyun’s shoulder at the door. He hesitates but eventually decides to let go of his companion’s hands so he can turn to the door as well.

Jumin hopes it’s not obvious that he was just crying. He rarely cried as a child, even less as a young adult, so his father wouldn’t recognize the telltale signs. Or maybe he looks so different after crying that it becomes clear that something is wrong.

“We’re all starting to gather in the yard to watch the fireworks display. Wouldn’t want you two to miss it,” his father explains with his usual relaxed smile. Jumin wonders if he knows anything. If he feels anything, maybe something similar to Jumin’s mother.

The two divorcees never had much in common, Jumin supposes, other than him. Their child. Their prodigy who managed to amount to nothing despite everything being handed to him.

“It’s near midnight already?”

“Time sure flies, doesn’t it?”

Jumin looks at Jihyun, now standing beside him. “I must use the restroom first, but you two can go ahead,” he says, and Jumin immediately has some problems with such a suggestion.

“I can wait for you,” he offers.

“I can manage a bathroom trip without assistance, Jumin, don’t worry,” Jihyun says with a soft chuckle. He then looks between the two Han family men. “I’m pretty unfamiliar with the floorplan, though. It’s an impressive house.”

“Jumin, don’t be rude and show your friend to the bathroom,” Jumin’s father says with a laugh, stepping out of the doorway so the two younger men can make their way out. The hallway is just as blinding as before and Jumin directs Jihyun to the bathroom just a few doors down the hallway.

The door soon locks and when Jumin turns around, his father is still there, his arms lazily crossed.

“Won’t Ms. Park be missing your presence, father?” Jumin asks, because while the two of them are civil, there are still oceans between them. It’s different seeing his father as a child compared to as an adult nearing thirty.

His flaws are much clearer.

“It’ll be good for her to get to know her future in-laws,” his father grins. Jumin wonders if the man felt the same way when his son was seventeen. When “getting to know” meant something different to his girlfriend at the time.

“How old is she, may I inquire?” Jumin asks.

“You know that’s not polite to ask, Jumin.”

“I heard she’s an intern at the company?”

“That’s correct, and a very good one at that. Dedicated and thorough.”

“I suppose I’m grateful I’m no longer there for my assistants to be romantic options.”

“Ah, come on, Jumin. That was years ago, just water under the bridge. Aren’t you—”

“Are you disappointed in me?”

His father pauses. The usual smile falters. Emotional talk was never one of his strong suits — emotional absence might be the better word for what he based his fatherhood on.

“It’s nearly the New Year,” he tries to reason.

Jumin purses his lips. Maybe it’s better to know the truth even at the cost of losing the only somewhat cordial familial relationship of his.

“Do you want to enter the year without ever having had a proper conversation with me?” he asks. “I know you don’t approve of my decision. I know you’re still hoping I’ll change my mind, holding my assets over my head. I know that’s why you invited me tonight.”

His father sighs, rubbing his forehead. Jumin isn’t sure if he has ever been yelled at by his father. As long as Jumin didn’t get into trouble, his father didn’t care, which meant accomplishments and prizes didn’t mean much to him, either.

“You must understand that anyone in my position would be surprised,” his father explains. “I figured we were on the same page. You were so dedicated to the company all your adult life and even before, and it was like… one day a switch just flicked, and you left.”

“You never asked,” Jumin points out, “if we were on the same page. You just assumed.”

“You never expressed a desire towards anything else,” his father says. “You read a ton of books, sure, but you never created anything. How was I to know you dreamt of being an author when you never said as much as a—”

“Because I wasn’t allowed,” Jumin interrupts. Awful manners, he knows. “You got exactly what you wanted out of the deal. Out of your marriage, out of me, you got it all. Perfect grades, the best university, an heir, not a single tantrum thrown all my life. Were you expecting me to never break?”

His father hesitates, but maybe the need to have the final word runs in the family. “Your mother did always try and get you to go out and play to wind down a bit, but you didn’t—”

“My mother would abuse me, father.” It feels itchy and hot coming off his tongue, like an allergic reaction. “And I know you know that. But given that her attempts never worked and I remained as perfect of an heir as ever, you never tried to stop it.”

“That’s a harsh word to be throwing around so lightly, Jumin,” his father sighs, but Jumin doesn’t miss the way he adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket in unease.

“Then how would you describe it?” Jumin asks. “A bit of light-hearted fun to confuse my entire sense of self, because one minute I was doing everything right, but the next I was a robotic machine who needed to be fixed?”

His father swallows. He clasps his hands together calmly, looking everywhere in the room but at Jumin. Well, until his eyes meet the painting depicting a much younger Jumin. He frowns when he takes it in, the portrait he paid for.

He walks towards it, looking at the nineteen-year-old Jumin with sad eyes. The Jumin who was still adequate.

“I didn’t… share the same concerns as your mother,” his father says. “I had no problem with the way you behaved. As you said, you were perfect. Maybe if I had stepped in…”

“Do you think I would’ve followed in your footsteps all my life if you were more present?” Jumin asks, taking his place beside his father. His younger self stares at him like a plea to get out of that house where he spent his childhood. “If you two divorced sooner? If you never cheated? If you didn’t let your girlfriends cozy up to me while I was still—”

“Jumin, I know I’m not perfect,” his father interrupts, voice heavy. “We’ve all done things we are not proud of, but that doesn’t mean we can’t change. Which is why I invited you tonight.” He laughs, strained, turning his gaze back to the portrait. “I was going to introduce you to a renowned publisher I’m associated with.”

Jumin halts.

“It doesn’t… make up for everything, but I hope it’s a start.” His father smiles a bit, as if his current girlfriend isn’t Jumin’s age and as if he hasn’t expressed his disapproval of Jumin’s new career to everyone in the family and as if all of this couldn’t have been prevented. “Someone mentioned it’s fiction you’re currently working on, correct? This associate works with fiction writers too. I’ll make sure you two can meet after the fireworks.”

“...So you’re fine with this?” Jumin asks. “With me?”

His father chuckles. “You’re still my only son, Jumin.”

For some reason that knowledge hurts. The knowledge that because he’s the only continuation of his father’s legacy, he matters. If he had a brother, an older or even a younger one, would he be worth anything?

Does he take what he can get or does he leave behind this chapter of his life that has always defined him?

“...I’ve looked into different publishers on my own,” he hums, calm and collected. “Thank you for the offer, father, but I’d rather accomplish this one thing by myself.”

“I see,” the older man says, equally calm. “You were always rather independent, despite everything. Have you learned how to cook yet?”

“Somewhat, yes.”

“Maybe you could teach your old man one day,” he laughs. “What’s your book about?”

“Ah, well—”

The bathroom door opens behind them and the two men turn to see Jihyun exiting the restroom. Coming out of the closet through an explanation of his autofiction novel, whatever that may entail, may be an endeavour for the future.

“Father, the rooftop deck is that way, yes?” Jumin asks instead, nodding his head towards the depths of the hallway. “I bet it would be a good place to gaze at the fireworks.”

“I can’t guarantee that it won’t be snowed-in, but the door should be unlocked,” his father says, eyeing Jihyun for a strangely long time before turning back to the painting. “Come find me before you two head home, okay? I barely got the chance to talk with your friend.”

“We’re not going outdoors?” Jihyun asks Jumin, who just gives his father a nod and wraps his arm around Jihyun’s to guide him in the opposite direction.

“I figured any further interruptions would be unbearable,” Jumin hums, walking down the hallway. Once they’re far enough that Jumin can recognize which door leads to the staircase to the rooftop, he says, “You heard parts of our conversation, right?”

“I wasn’t trying to pry,” Jihyun says. “It… sounded like you were able to say some things you had been keeping in for a while, though.”

“My father was never one for direct communication unless it came to business,” Jumin says, cracking open the door. Even if the staircase is still indoors, it’s dark and it’s cold as they start climbing up the pristine steps. “I didn’t even expect as much as an acknowledgment of anything that has happened, so… I suppose this was a successful encounter.”

“Are you glad we came here?” Jihyun asks as they manage to ascend the stairs to the glass door facing the rooftop deck with barely any lights aside from the glowing, white snow on the ground.

Jumin holds his arm tightly and says, “I’m not sure. Maybe I can think of it as some kind of closure.”

“Closure is good,” Jihyun agrees. “Do you have any New Year’s resolutions?”

“That’s a bit random.” Jumin cracks the door open with some effort. He isn’t sure if he has ever even been on the rooftop aside from his initial tour of the house back when it was new. They step out into the snow, cold shivers running down their backs the moment the freezing air hits them.

“There are only so many things you can resolve with only under ten minutes before the new year begins.”

Jumin holds tightly onto Jihyun’s hand, uncertain of when exactly they interlaced their fingers, and guides them both through the snow and to the railing at the edge, overlooking the white backyard. Below them stands the entire guest list of the party, looking off to the dark night sky with their champagne glasses and distant chatter. None of them look back at them, though.

“What resolutions are you making, then?” Jumin asks, more immersed in the beauty of Jihyun’s side profile than the twinkling stars in the distance. “Maybe you could inspire me.”

“Well,” Jihyun chuckles with a cloud of smoke escaping his lips in the cold, “I would really like to properly talk things through with Yoosung soon. I’m not… so sure about Rika, but I would like to know how she’s doing, too, without getting too involved myself.”

Jumin nods quietly, because he knows that Jihyun’s selflessness will probably always come before anything else.

“But I would also like to prioritize myself more. As in… creating art with the little time I have left. Doing what makes me happy without worrying if it’s wrong of me to do. Spending time with people who make me feel safe. Things like that,” the mint-haired man explains as he slips off his sunglasses with his free hand, blinking at the night sky as if he wasn’t the brightest star out there. “I would also, selfishly, like to spend my year with you. Because you make me feel the safest.”

Maybe that’s the most selfish act Jihyun can ever manage, and maybe that’s fine with the raven-haired man.

“You’re saying that like that wasn’t already my plan,” Jumin notes, amused. “We’ll find a bigger apartment and learn how to better cohabitate.”

Jihyun quirks an eyebrow, his smile so warm and overwhelming that it takes over Jumin’s entire world. “Were we having problems with that before?”

“You’ll need to get your own sleepwear and we’ll probably need more tableware. As well as that office for you so you can actually paint properly. Any accommodations you may need are a given, of course. Perhaps a separate bedroom as well, so Elizabeth won’t always be there in case we…”

Jumin pauses. That might have been too much.

“In case we what, Jumin?”

He sighs, rubbing his brow yet not quite managing to drop his smile. “I hadn’t even realized it before tonight, actually. How attracted I am to you.” He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to erase all of the memories of Jihyun’s beauty from his mind. It doesn’t work as he is everywhere. “That’s why new sleepwear is a priority. I can’t keep seeing you in bed while wearing my shirts.”

Jihyun chuckles, looking at Jumin with eyes that strangely resemble a puppy, and an eager one at that. “Have I been giving you a hard time?”

“Not especially, but… It’s different now. Now that I know that this could escalate beyond… This.” He squeezes Jihyun’s hand. “It’s all new to me, as you know, and I’m sure it’ll be different for you as well, seeing as we’re both men.”

“It doesn’t matter to me that you’re a man, Jumin,” Jihyun whispers. “It never bothered me. The only troubling thing was… well, other circumstances. Our friendship. Rika.”

“Yes, combine all of that with your first love being your best friend, who’s also a man.” Jumin takes a deep breath. “I’m quite sure I was drawn to you the second I saw you at that gallery. No, the first time I saw that painting of yours.” He looks at Jihyun, his cheeks red from the cold. “I wrote a character based on you and everything.”

“You made me a drug dealer.”

“I had to take some artistic liberties.” Jumin can’t stop himself from chuckling then. “Yet you recognized yourself immediately.”

“I think there was a part of me that hoped I’d be that important to you.” Jihyun pulls his hand free only for his fingers to move to and rest at Jumin’s nape, turning the taller man to face him. His hand is still warm. “It makes me a bit sad to think about it all, to be honest. I can’t really say that… It was love at first sight, or anything. But it’s love now, and I think that’s all that matters.”

He’s right. That’s really all that matters. Not the people out in the yard, or the past, or the lack of silver on Jihyun’s ring finger, or everything that has yet to come. All that matters is right here, in Jumin’s hands as he brings them up to hold Jihyun’s face.

And then it erupts.

“Ten!” someone, a loud, drunken crowd, yells from down below. They look over the railing before quickly looking back at each other, at the stars in their eyes. “Nine!”

“I want to edit and publish my book this year,” Jumin says, just because he hadn’t yet. Because if Jihyun wants to do what makes him happy, so does Jumin.

“Eight!”

“Do I get a dedication?” Jihyun asks with a smile. Jumin has never been more in love. “As your boyfriend?”

“Seven!”

“Is that really how you ask me to date you?”

“Six!”

“I want to start the new year by your side.” Jihyun’s hand tightens around the other man’s nape, guiding him lower. “Can I?”

“Five!”

“...You know I’d never say no,” Jumin whispers, breathless, because Jihyun smells as good as ever and his hand is so warm in the freeze and the red tip of his nose calls to him like a lighthouse.

“Four!”

They don’t say anything more. Jumin’s throat is dry and Jihyun’s eyes are so beautiful and aquamarine and Jumin wants to dive in.

“Three!” Jihyun smiles at him. Their noses brush. “Two!” Jumin lets his eyes fall shut. A safe space, Jihyun, a new start. “One!”

They crash together without Jumin knowing who made the first move.

“Happy New Year!”

Countless fireworks explode in the distance, bursting into little sparks of light penetrating through Jumin’s eyelids. He kisses Jihyun, hands on his cheeks, pulling him closer, wanting more.

Wanting all of him.

Jihyun’s arms wrap around Jumin’s neck like a promise, their bodies pressed together. It’s freezing and Jumin can’t feel his ears but he’s never felt this warm.

As they sigh into the kiss, unsure of whose tongue is whose and whose hands are where, Jumin registers a slight feeling of gloom for the characters in his book. He stole their happy ending and he doesn’t even feel guilty about it.

He slips his hand into Jihyun’s hair and kisses him harder, like a gold trim was binding them together for good.