Chapter Text
- Suho -
On the bus ride home, Suho considers everything that he learned about Yeon Sieun today.
Yeon Sieun prefers tuna kimbap to beef. He smells like warm laundry and mint, and his hair is soft everywhere, but it’s particularly silky at the back of his neck, where Suho had brushed his fingers under the guise of getting sand out of it. Most surprisingly, Yeon Sieun had been his friend, only.
We weren’t like that.
Suho might not have believed him, but he had looked scandalized at the suggestion that they’d been together, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy. It makes him smile to think about now, turning to press his forehead into the cool window as the city fades into the sparser seaside roads. He hadn’t meant to startle him, it’s just that the more they look at each other, the more Suho feels something locking into place. Snapping together like the click of a seatbelt. He’d wondered if his body was remembering something his mind forgot, muscle memory.
It’s not like it would have been a shock. Suho’s been into guys since middle school, when one of the hyungs at his gym offered to teach him an S-mount, his gi stretching over his arms as he laid back and motioned for Suho to climb onto him. Feeling that way about another boy had surprised him, confused him for a bit, but it never bothered him much. He liked who he liked.
And anyway, Sieun was sort of strikingly gorgeous.
When he’d smiled and laughed on the beach, Suho had felt genuine butterflies in his stomach. He hadn’t been able to look away. And holding him tonight had sent a shockwave of satisfaction through his body. They fit together well. He wants to do it again, can’t stop thinking about it as he locks up the house that night, lies in bed, and thinks about how warm and solid Sieun had felt.
He packs up quickly the next morning. Bomin had, predictably, been understanding about his time off, telling him to go and return safely and not to worry too much about work. He’s a good boss, an even better hyung. Suho makes a note to bring him back a small gift.
His duffel drags heavily on his shoulder, and by the time he gets to Sieun’s place, he’s grateful for the chance to throw it down on the landing. It thunks down, and Suho rolls his neck, mentally preparing for a long day of travel ahead.
Baku opens the door when Suho knocks this time. His hair lies flatter than usual, stuck to his forehead on the sides.
“Oh, Suho! Morning,” he says, making a valiant effort at holding in a yawn.
A soft ruffling sound emerges from behind him, and Suho finds himself leaning forward to see if he can spot Sieun. He’s so put together all the time, Suho half expects to find him fully dressed and sitting up ramrod straight.
Baku gives him a knowing look. “All set?” he asks.
“Yep!” Suho nods at his bag, just as Sieun comes shuffling over. He is dressed, nearly swallowed in a hoodie that comes up to his chin and sleeves that billow near his wrists. His cheeks are a little puffy from sleep or all the salty food yesterday. Suho has to pretend to stretch out his arms just to keep from reaching out and squishing them.
Sieun looks down at the bag and back up, wheels spinning.
“You’re coming?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Suho says, clearing his throat. He’s suddenly, bizarrely shy. “Sorry for springing it on you, Halmeoni would probably kick my ass, but can I?”
“Of course,” Sieun says in a rush.
The whole trip takes longer than Suho remembered. Either the newness of it all kept him from realizing the distance when he left Seoul, or the anticipation of being back is making the minutes drag. When Baku had told him to come, he’d only really thought of Sieun, of how he could hold onto him for just a little longer, but now that he’s on the train, his brain whirls with the idea of being back in the city. Guilt gnaws at his stomach when he thinks of the fact that he hasn’t even visited Halmeoni since the funeral. With each stop along the way, his gut lurches at the thought of being back.
The anxiety spreads out through his limbs, ratcheting up tension in his muscles, and about 30 minutes into the train ride, his leg goes numb. He tries to hide the way he shifts in his seat, trying to keep pressure off his lower back and bring the feeling back, but it’s useless. It’s not until they make their way up the escalator, bags in tow, that the feeling fully settles back into it. He shakes it out, his shoulders relaxing even as the ache sinks in. Sieun notices, of course he does.
“Are you okay?”
Suho nods. “Fine, Sieun-ah.” He gives him a smile, but Sieun’s brow still furrows. So serious.
His hand is reaching out like he’s going to take Suho’s bag when a loud whoop has their heads snapping to the right. Two guys who look to be about their age are standing there. One, glasses, wearing a backpack with what looks like 20 keychains attached, is waving with a small smile. The other, relaxed, in an oversized sweatshirt, has his arm up in the air and his other hand cupping around his mouth post-shout.
“Yah,” Baku drags it out, like he’s touched, as they make their way over. “Gogo, Junie, you came all this way? Missed me?”
“Missed Sieun,” the loud one says, shoving a little at Baku when they reach them.
Sieun sighs at the antics. “Why are you here?”
Suho snorts a little laugh at his lack of tact, and two sets of eyes flicker over to him so quickly his posture straightens.
“Ah,” the taller one starts with a little huff of laughter. “We knew we had to kidnap you straight from the station if we wanted to hear about your trip before you holed up to study for the next month.” He slings an arm around Glasses, leaning in a way that gives off practiced casualness. “You’re hungry, right? Let’s eat together.”
Sieun turns to look at Suho then, expression asking without saying anything: Is this okay?
“Sounds good to me,” Suho confirms with a short nod.
“Sieun, who’s this?” Glasses asks, friendly curiosity in his voice.
Sieun’s mouth twists a bit, and Suho takes it as his cue to chime in. He’s good with people anyway, so he can do this part.
“Ahn Suho,” he says. “Nice to meet you guys.”
He holds out a hand that neither of them grabs, silence following as the two of them stare with matching expressions of surprise.
“Um,” he starts, trailing off when he realizes he’s not sure what he’s supposed to say.
“Don’t mind Jun and Gogo, Suho-yah,” Baku pipes up, nudging his shoulder. “We all just sort of thought you were dead this whole time.”
Oh.
“Hey, dumbass,” Blue Sweatshirt says, bringing a hand up to swat playfully at Baku’s head. “Who says that to a person?”
“What? We did!”
The two of them tussle, somehow ending in Baku getting the guy in a headlock, ruffling his hair, and calling for him to tap out.
“I’m Juntae,” Glasses says, ignoring the rest of them and shaking Suho’s hand. “It’s really nice to meet you! Sieun doesn’t talk much about his old school. I hope you don’t mind if we ask you about it. We’re all curious about what he used to be like.” His smile is bright, friendly.
“Ah—”
“Suho doesn’t remember me,” Sieun interrupts him quickly, leaving more quiet in the wake of his words.
Although it’s true, and although he’s said it himself more times than he cares to count, something about hearing it from Sieun’s mouth makes his stomach sink like a rock. He chokes his way through a swallow, about to explain, when Sieun speaks again.
“Let’s go, we can eat at my place.”
On the subway ride there, they avoid the topic. Juntae asks Baku countless questions about the school he visited, and the other one — Go Hyuntak, you can call me Gotak — chimes in mostly to rag on him. Suho’s mostly content to listen to their banter, getting a feel for the dynamics, but he does answer a few questions about Changwon, laughing when Baku offers his best impression of Gyeongsang-do satoori.
By the time they get there, their food’s already been delivered. Baku runs for it, grabbing the bags and letting himself in. The rest of the guys head in behind him, moving quickly inside to set up the table, but Sieun stops in the entryway, watching as Suho toes off his shoes.
“What?” Suho asks.
Sieun holds his gaze. It’s a lot to be on the receiving end of, Suho’s realizing. His eyes flit back and forth over Suho’s like he’s waiting for something.
“Nothing,” he says, finally. “Do you want some water?”
Suho nods. “Okay.” And then he’s alone by the door, listening as the others call out for them to hurry up.
Dinner brings more teasing, more catching up. Suho learns that Sieun met the others when he moved to the area a little over two years ago. Gotak used to be an athlete, like him, but now he just plays basketball for fun. Juntae’s pretty good at drawing, but he’s more shy even than Sieun, so he only shows Suho a few pictures before he locks his phone and tucks it away with impressive speed.
They skirt around the subject of Sieun and Baku running into Suho, watering it down a bit to keep the mood light. Eventually, though, Suho gives them the rundown. He tells them what he remembers about Byeoksan, about waking up and moving south. He leaves out the really sad stuff, not wanting to put a damper on the night. Instead, he talks about how the food tastes different there, and how Bomin’s had to change the code to the employee door three times already because Wooram keeps losing the little slips of paper that he writes it on.
And, yes, he says. He really doesn’t remember anything from before the accident. Not even Sieun.
“Fuck,” Gotak says. “That’s crazy.”
“Then, how did you know where to meet up with Suho again?” Juntae addresses the question to Sieun.
“I didn’t,” he replies.
“It was destiny!” Baku pipes up.
“The place I work at is pretty popular with tourists,” Suho explains. “I’m just lucky they wound up in Changwon.”
“It was more than luck,” Baku counters, unfazed by the warning look Sieun throws his way. “I got all tripped up in your unmyeong. I think I have your fate to thank for getting into college.”
“Actually, that makes sense,” Gotak says, setting Baku off again.
He tsks, pinching Gotak’s ear. “Are you saying I couldn’t get in otherwise?”
“You were the one who brought up their red string, dipshit!”
“Wow,” Juntae says, refocusing the attention. “It’s a relief that you found each other again.” He smiles gently.
Suho’s laughter at the others fades a bit, and he shifts a bit as he thinks about it. Is that how Sieun feels? Relieved? He feels good around Sieun, lit up, but there’s an edge there. They’re still finding their footing. Suho peeks over to look at him, almost jumping when his eyes meet Sieun’s, already fixed on him.
The mood settles then, not into anything uncomfortable, just too thoughtful for the rowdy conversation that had previously filled the room to continue. Juntae picks up on it first, announcing that he’s got to get home and thanking Sieun for hosting them. Gotak’s up in a flash, offering to walk him, and then Baku offers to walk the both of them, so that within 15 minutes they’ve got the apartment cleaned and emptied out.
And then it’s just the two of them.
They both seem to realize this at the same time; Sieun spends more time than he needs to dumping food waste and puttering in the kitchen, and Suho clears his throat and asks where he can shower.
When he’s done, Sieun takes his place, and Suho uses the time to look around. There’s not much to snoop on, formal family portraits of Sieun with a woman Suho assumes is his mother, a bunch of academic achievements that confirm the guy’s an actual genius. There’s one photo of Sieun with his friends, outside at their school, sometime in the winter. His mouth is curved up the smallest amount. Suho stares at it for too long.
I mean, you… Your expression…
The words ring in his ears. It’s like he can hear them being said, on a loop. He’s still trying to figure out what movie the line is from when Sieun returns, dressed in sweats and a too-big T-shirt.
Despite all his best efforts at convincing him that he’d be fine with the futon, seriously, Suho finds himself climbing into his bed a few minutes later. That clean, Sieun smell surrounds him again as he buries into the covers, and his eyes close automatically. It’s comforting, lying there and listening to Sieun settle into his own bed just an arm’s length away, and his breathing slows even as his mind whirls.
It’s hard to say how long he’s been trying to sleep when he feels it. It’s more of a sense than anything else, something, a hand— Sieun’s hand, hovering just above his face, like checking if he’s breathing. Suho lets his eyes flutter open, rolling his head on the pillow to look at him. He’s sitting up on the futon next to the bed, holding his breath. The hand tries to pull away, Sieun’s mouth caught open on an apology, when Suho grabs it by the wrist, bringing it back.
“It’s okay,” he whispers.
Sieun lets his fingers fall, relaxing into Suho’s grip. His eyes are locked on Suho’s, and the weight of his stare is always heavy, but this close, it sends a surge of something through his chest and out to his limbs. When it settles, Suho brings Sieun’s hand closer still, until his fingertips brush the side of his face. They twitch there, like he’s not sure how closely he should press, and then Sieun takes over again, following the curve of Suho’s cheekbone, running up to trace his eyebrow, dipping back down to his jaw.
He pauses at the corner of Suho’s mouth, and neither of them moves for a moment. Then Suho turns his head and lets the tips of Sieun’s fingers drag against his lips. His eyes fall closed at the feeling, touch creating electricity everywhere it goes.
Sieun’s breath stutters, his fingers curl a little in a little more, and then they’re gone. Suho misses them nearly immediately, the warmth of them, how, if he let himself imagine it, it felt a little like being kissed. It’s maybe the first time he admits it to himself; he wants to kiss Sieun. Whatever they were before, he wants more now.
He opens his eyes in time to see Sieun stand and walk through the door, out of the room. He gives it two minutes before he can’t stand it, then gets up to tiptoe out into the hall, letting his hand drag on the wall to guide his steps through the dark. At the end of it, where the hall turns into the living room, moonlight streams in, bright and blue. It covers Sieun where he’s stood by the couch, staring out the window.
Suho comes to stand beside him, looking at the passing cars below.
“I really did a number on you, huh?” he says.
Sieun’s head tilts toward him a bit, but he doesn’t look. A stopped reflex.
“What are you talking about?”
“Sieun, I’m all but offering myself up to you here.” Annoyance is starting to come through in his tone, and he wishes he could stem it, but— “I thought you wanted me back, but you keep running away from me.”
“You told Baku you wanted to leave Seoul behind,” Sieun argues.
“I don’t know what I want!” He feels a little bad about the way it punches out of him like an outburst, but Sieun doesn’t flinch. “I’m trying to make things right. Live the kind of life Halmeoni wanted for me, but,” he breathes, “I’m missing some of the pieces. We were important to each other, right? Why should I let that go?”
“It’s better like this.” Sieun's voice is calm, unchanged, despite the tight way he holds his hands in fists.
“Do you really think that way?”
Sieun swallows and keeps his eyes fixed on the window.
“If that’s what you think, then why did you let me come here? How come all your friends seem to think we need each other, but you won’t let me get close to you?”
“Not each other,” Sieun says. “You don’t need me.”
“Are you serious?” A disbelieving laugh on the edge of his words. “Do you know what I did for weeks after I woke up? I took the bus everywhere, Sieun, school, the hospital, random restaurants that were open, just looking. I was desperate.” Suho pauses for a breath. His heart is thumping so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if Sieun can hear it. “I left because I didn’t find anyone. I wanted to find someone, you, so badly, and I couldn’t so I left.
“My closest friends in Changwon are a high school kid who can barely tie his shoes right and my fucking physical therapist.” He lowers his voice, he doesn’t want to yell, not at Sieun. “I’ve laughed more with you than I have in months, Sieun. I need you, too.”
The room feels warmer when he’s done, like he worked up enough steam to fill the space around them. Or, maybe it’s because he apparently drifted closer to Sieun. He’s close enough to touch now, easily. Suho almost lays a hand on his back, but he looks like he’s considering, and Suho doesn’t want to break the moment.
Sieun’s hands are clenched into fists at his sides, and he pulls in a shaky breath. “It’s not just that,” he starts. It takes him a second to get the rest of the words out. “I’m scared I’ll lose you again,” he finally says. “When you find out what happened.”
Ah.
Suho steps closer then. “Sieun-ah, you think I’m not scared? You fell for a version of me that I don’t even remember.” Sieun blushes at the implication but doesn’t stop him. “Those memories of who I was are gone. And whether I get them back or not, I don’t know if I’ll ever be him again. It might just be me.”
That fear creeps up on him at night, when he’s in bed 300 km away from the last place he knew. The time he lost holds a piece of himself that he may never get back. It’s funny, in a sad kind of way, that Sieun would be so afraid of him remembering while Suho worries he might never be able to.
“You have all these ideas of what I was like and the things we did together, and I’m worried. That you’ll expect things to be the same, and I won’t be able to deliver. I’m scared of you biding your time with me while you wait for him.”
Sieun looks at him with eyes that shimmer in the soft light.
“I’m not waiting for anyone else, Suho.”
The fight drains out of Suho in an instant, unbearable fondness and a need to soothe creeping in when he sees the wetness that lines Sieun’s lashes.
He’s suddenly exhausted. From the day, and from the argument, and from laying everything bare. They can talk more tomorrow. Right now, he just wants to be close.
“Come back to bed, let’s sleep.” He pulls at Sieun’s wrist, thankful he decides to follow Suho without argument.
When they get back to Sieun’s room, he sits on the bed, grip tightening when Sieun tries to lie back down on the futon. Sieun turns to him with a question in his eyes, and Suho’s still so tired. Sick of holding back for no good reason when this is what they both want.
“Just lay with me,” he asks. Close to begging. “We can fit.”
Sieun stares like he’s waiting for Suho to rescind the offer. When he doesn’t, he lifts the covers back and moves to climb in. Suho scoots back to make room, a thrill running through his body at the way their knees knock together.
They settle in facing each other, and Sieun still looks like he’s halfway ready to bolt, so Suho talks.
“How often did you use to visit me? While I was…” he trails off.
Sieun looks away, but he doesn’t back down. “Every day.”
“Really?” Suho asks, heart squeezing when Sieun nods.
He feels strangely envious of that Suho, the sleeping one who got Sieun’s attention for months, years. He’d felt so alone when he’d woken up. There was no one to talk to, no one to share in his relief at walking again, no one to share in his grief. Would things have been different if he’d woken up a week earlier? A month? Would Sieun have been right there at his bedside? Maybe holding his hand?
The thought makes him suppress a little shiver, and a phantom smell of beef and bone broth washes over him in a wave.
“You saw her a lot, then? Halmeoni?”
“Mm,” Sieun confirms.
Suho’s eyes prickle hot with tears. He can’t help it; he misses her so much. “What’d you talk about?”
“You,” Sieun whispers.
Suho swallows thick and turns to lie on his back, focusing on the ceiling. “She must’ve been thankful for you.”
“I relied on her too much.”
A few tears slip down Suho’s temples when he shakes his head. His throat’s too tight to speak, so he says it all in his head. You’re not too much. I’m glad she had you. Thank you.
“Suho,” Sieun says on an exhale.
He shifts, and Suho panics, head whipping to the side to look at him again. He must look pathetic, tears still dripping and mouth wobbling, and eyes wide.
“Stay,” he says. It’s barely a sound, but Sieun’s close enough to hear it, might have been able to hear it without Suho saying it at all. He nods, melting back into the bed.
They stay like that for a while, long after Suho’s calmed down, until one or both of them start to drift, eyes finally fluttering shut.
Suho wakes early, the way he always does when he’s slept somewhere new. A few centimeters away from him, Sieun sleeps still, peaceful and soft in a way he hasn’t seen yet. He must’ve gotten warm during the night because the ends of his hair curl a bit. Suho loops a finger through one of them.
He watches Sieun like that for a few minutes before his breathing starts to change, and Suho knows he’s woken up. Still, he keeps his eyes closed, lies as still as possible. It reminds Suho of being a kid, pretending not to wake up whenever he fell asleep on the couch watching old dramas with Halmeoni, desperately trying to put off going to bed. He smiles and runs his hand through Sieun’s hair more firmly.
“Good morning,” he murmurs.
Sieun’s eyes flutter open, and Suho’s smile widens. He’s got a natural kind of pout on his face, eyes fighting against the morning light. Cute. He shuts his eyes again, face turning into the bedding and leaning in to press his forehead against Suho’s shoulder. The whole thing is arresting.
It only lasts a moment, until he realizes what he’s doing and stiffens up, pulling back into his space on the bed. Come back. Suho can’t quite get his mouth to work, still struck a little dumb.
A minute later, they startle at the sound of the intercom buzzing. Sieun’s up in an instant, pulling down his T-shirt where it rode up during the night and shuffling over to the front door. Suho sits up slower, stretching out while the sound of a voice carries through the door.
“—rry up, I’m about to come in.” He catches only bits and pieces as Sieun makes his way to the entry. “—sure you get decent.” Then a laugh follows that can only be Park Humin’s.
A soft smile grows on Suho’s face, and he shakes his head, getting up to join Sieun as he opens the door.
“Good morning,” he singsongs when he sees the two of them. Suho offers a half wave.
“Did you forget something?” Sieun asks, voice still hoarse with the morning.
“Nope!” Baku says, brightly as ever. “Suho’s got plans with me today.”
“I do?” Suho asks.
Baku nods. “Yep.”
Sieun looks between the two of them, face like a fish out of water. Suho almost wants to laugh, or maybe pinch his cheeks. It’s clear he doesn’t want to lose a day together, but he doesn’t have enough reason to stop them. Suho shrugs.
“Oh,” Sieun says finally. “Okay.”
“I’ll have him back before dinner, kid,” Baku says, dropping a heavy-looking palm onto Sieun’s head.
Sieun takes a steadying breath, his mouth flattening into a line.
“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” Suho jumps in, apparently unable to stand disappointing Sieun even when it’s not his doing.
Sieun nods softly, turning away to head into the kitchen, and Suho sighs, watching him go.
“Ah, Ahn-Su, he’s not going anywhere. Come on! Get dressed.” Baku turns him around and lands a playful smack on his ass. “Wanna take you somewhere.”