Archive of Our Own

It’s a peaceful evening at a college dorm apartment. A faint breeze flutters the blinds over the open windows, creating a soft beat that’s reminiscent of summer as it harmonizes with the singing cicadas and low hum of the fan. Two third year students are relaxing on their old couch, enjoying the freedom offered by the end of the quarter. 

Wonwoo shifts the position of his head to the left, searching for the perfect spot on Junhui’s thigh as he flips through the page of a new novel. As if in response, Junhui runs a hand through his boyfriend’s brown locks, gaze flickering from the boy’s face to the tv screen, where a documentary is playing. 

“Is the volume too high?” Junhui wonders a few minutes later, when Wonwoo stops reading to direct his attention to the older.

The former shakes his head, small smile tugging the corner of his lips. “No, it’s fine. I’m just soaking in the fact that we’re free for a couple weeks. No class, no exam. No work. It feels really nice.”

“Yeah,” Junhui smiles in return, fingers returning to card through brown hair. “We actually get to spend time together, for once.”

“Mhm.” Putting his book aside on the coffee table, Wonwoo tosses over onto his side, placing a hand on Junhui’s knee. “What are you watching?”

“Just the Travel Channel,” the other answers. “They were discussing Tanabata.”

“The Star Festival? It’s coming up soon.”

“Mm,” Junhui hums. He stays quiet for a short moment, the movements of his fingers halting mid-stroke. Right when Wonwoo is about to ask what’s wrong, Junhui speaks up. “What would you do if that happened to us?”

Wonwoo can’t say he’s surprised. The older often entertained hypothetical scenarios, some of which don’t always make much sense. But he usually humors him, regardless. This time, though, he merely shrugs. “It’d suck, but it won’t be the end of the world.”

Doe eyes turn round as they stare into his. “How can you show so little concern about it? You’d be fine only seeing each other once a year forever? Sometimes longer if it rains? I thought you loved me!”

Laughing at the dramatic response, Wonwoo squeezes the knee under his hand. “I do, that’s why I think we’d be fine. Besides, unlike the star-crossed lovers,” here he pauses to allow Junhui time to roll his eyes at the pun, “We have internet access and phones. That’s what Skype is for.”

Junhui pouts, pink lips pursing as he directs a mock glare at the boy grinning at him mischievously. “You have a heart of stone, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Laughing again, the so-called stone-hearted male retorts, “Then how would you react?”

“I’d be devastated,” he answers right away. “A year is a very long time, and you can’t cuddle or hold hands or anything through a phone call or Skype.” As if to emphasize his point, his fingers seek out his partner’s and laces them together. “I’d probably have to do something to distract myself everyday, or bombard you with texts and calls whenever I have free time.”

The mental image of a frantic and whiny Junhui is not difficult to conjure up, and Wonwoo smiles fondly as he sits up and pulls his boyfriend against him. Effortlessly, Junhui finds his usual spot, head nestled on Wonwoo’s shoulder, sides pressed together, arm wrapped around his back. The weather is a little too hot to sit this close comfortably, but neither comments on it nor lets go.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that,” Wonwoo says, pressing a kiss to Junhui’s forehead. “Because it’s not gonna happen.” 

Tan fingers grip onto the thin fabric of Wonwoo’s tee, muffling the soft voice that asks, “What if one of us gets a dream internship or something?” 

“Then the other will just come with.”

Junhui pokes him, and he laughs into the soft black hair, inhaling the familiar scent of shampoo. 

“Sweet, but highly unrealistic.”

“Oh?” Feeling playful, he inches away to see the older’s face. “And imagining ourselves as Vega and Altair isn’t?”

“You’re no fun. So mean,” Junhui complains with a huff, bottom lip pursing out again.

The sight is too tempting. Wonwoo leans forward and kisses the expression off, leaving a dazed look behind. Smirking in satisfaction, he licks his lips and presses their foreheads together. He watches Junhui flutter his lashes, pink lips slightly swollen from the nips and tugs. There’s a lovely blush blooming on his cheeks that makes Wonwoo’s heart skip a beat as he brushes the back of his fingers over the soft skin. 

By habit, Junhui’s right hand comes to rest over the younger’s heart, feeling the erratic thumping. At the sensation, a soft giggle bubbles out, causing Wonwoo’s grin to widen in response. He’s always found comfort and pleasure in the sound. His heart swells. 

This time, when kisses are exchanged, it’s tender and gentle, drawing out sweet moans and breathless sighs. 

“See?” Wonwoo whispers, minute distance away from Junhui’s plump lips, “I can be nice, too.”

The latter’s pupils are wide from arousal, and a smirk appears. “Somehow, I doubt that’s completely true,” he remarks, arching a brow when Wonwoo’s deft fingers start to sneak up underneath his tee. 

Using his other hand to grip Junhui’s hip, Wonwoo reclines him back against the couch, covering his body with his own. Junhui runs his hand through the other’s hair, giggling happily when he feels soft kisses trailing along his neck. 

Wonwoo smiles against the warm skin. “Good thing I have all night to prove it to you, right?” 

____________________________

Beep! Beep! Beep!

A hand flies out from beneath the sheets to slap the top of the nightstand haphazardly. Functioning more out of habit than consciousness, Wonwoo fumbles for his phone. He cracks one eye open and scowls at the brightness behind the thin curtains, before focusing on the screen of the phone to swipe the alarm off.

Having slain the morning monster, he drops the phone somewhere over the comforter and buries his head into the pillows again. Blindly, his hand searches the other side of the bed for the familiar and warm shape of his boyfriend. But he’s only met with cool sheets and an empty feeling.

That’s right. Junhui isn’t here anymore. He’s been gone for a week. Wonwoo should be used to it by now.

With reluctance, he eventually moves his groggy ass out of bed to get ready for the day. 

Junhui’s year-long internship across the country had come as a complete surprise to the both of them. It’s one of those offers that you apply to because it sounds too good to be true, but never expect to hear from again. As luck would have it, though, Junhui’s application got accepted, and within a few days, he was packing up and heading for the airport. There was no typical sobbing and drawn-out goodbyes, but mostly because Junhui spent most of the time lecturing him about proper diets and the importance of doing laundry and cleaning the apartment periodically. 

While he acted like it was a hassle, he drew secret satisfaction at the care and worry. He also knew Junhui probably reverted to rambling and nagging to hide the anxiety of going away for so long. It wasn’t hard to guess when the brunet had gripped his hand almost to the point of breaking his fingers.

In the end, when Junhui had to go lest he missed the flight entirely, he had wrapped his arms around Wonwoo and pressed his face into the crook of the younger's neck. Wonwoo held him tightly, cherishing the hug that would have to last them 365 days. 

“I don’t want to go anymore,” Junhui whined against his skin, and he could hear the faint sniffles. “Take us home.”

Chuckling, Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair and kissed his temple. “You’re going to be fine.” Pulling away slightly so they could see each other, he offers the sniffling kitten a smile. “I promise I won’t burn down the apartment while you’re gone.”

That does the trick.

Junhui snorts, rolling his eyes as he laughs softly. But his eyes are still wet, lashes clumped by unshed tears. 

The PA system gives the last call for Junhui’s flight, and the boys give each other a last look. 

“I’ll let you know when I get there,” Junhui says, grabbing the handle of his carry-on.

Wonwoo nods. “Take care of yourself. Don’t break any limbs.”

The brunet lets out a short chuckle, squeezing his hand. “Bye, Wonwoo.”

The arrival of a text message snaps him out of his morning daze. Picking up his mug of coffee, he leans back against the counter, lips curling into a smile when he sees the name on the screen.

Meow & Furr-Ever: Good morning sunshine! Don’t forget to eat breakfast! Coffee alone doesn’t count

The texts have been constant ever since Junhui landed. Some pertained to his day, but mostly he sent out reminders for Wonwoo as if he never left. They were comforting and made Junhui’s absence somewhat bearable. On top of the regular texting, Junhui also peppered little sticky-notes around the apartment. A doodled cat in the hallway wishing him a good day, a mermaid in the bathroom reminding him to buy toothpaste, a rabbit on the fridge to prompt him to buy groceries. The rabbit doodle was accompanied by multiple simple recipes that even Wonwoo could follow without burning down the building. It wasn’t a coincidence that they were all his favorites. Everything done in an effort to lessen the possibilities that Wonwoo would skip meals.

Around lunch time, a text comes along with with a selfie of Junhui posing in front of a giant pizza.

Meow & Furr-Ever: Boss’ birthday party. Looks good, huh?

Wonwoo: which one? you or the pizza?

Meow & Furr-Ever: both! ;D

Meow & Furr-Ever: What are you having for lunch?

In response, Wonwoo takes a picture of the ham and cheese sandwich he bought from the corner deli. That seems to satisfy Junhui, and the two spend their lunch breaks talking about their respective day. 

By the time evening comes and Wonwoo returns home, Junhui shoots him a reminder that ramen is not to be consumed every night. With a wry chuckle, Wonwoo calls him and puts the phone on speaker as he moves around the kitchen and attempts to reproduce Junhui’s cooking as they talk.

“This almost feels like you’re home,” he finds himself saying as he waits for the water to boil, pasta box at the ready.

Junhui is quiet on the other line for a moment, then replies, “I miss you.”

“Come on, Junnie,” he swallows. For the sake of the both of them, he controls his voice, grateful for its natural deep tone. “We promised we wouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know.” A sniffles. “But it’s hard.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth—to say what he’s not sure, but the instinct to comfort a crying Junhui sweeps over before his brain can come up with the right words. However, Junhui beats him to it.

“Um, I made a friend today.” His voice is a little more upbeat, and Wonwoo knows he’s forcing himself to smile. There’s still a slight wet sound when he continues. “We work in the same lab, but we’ve never really talked until this afternoon.” Here, Junhui laughs a little, and it sounds more genuine. Wonwoo cracks a smile. “He’s kinda grumpy, so I’ve been trying to stay out of his way.” 

“Is he not grumpy anymore?”

“No, he’s still pretty prickly, but we were working on a titration, and I heard his stomach grumble. So during break I bought some snacks and shared it with him.”

“Ah, the power of food,” Wonwoo declares as if it’s something profound. “The way to every man’s heart.”

Junhui chuckles. “Well, it’s a start. He stopped glaring at me, at least.”

“I’m glad.” And he is. Unlike him, Junhui doesn’t have anyone over there. Their friends are all here, so even when Wonwoo feels down, he can always go see them for a couple hours. 

“The water should be boiling by now,” Junhui says, and Wonwoo actually stops his hand from reaching for the pasta box to stare at the phone. Then his eyes dart around the apartment as he wonders, “Did you install cameras before you left? Is that what your doodles are hiding?”

A familiar and musical burst of giggles fills the small kitchen. “No, you’re so silly. I just kept time in case you wandered away from the stove. Again.”

“Hey! That was one time!”

“Mhm. One time too many.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, even if Junhui can’t see him. “Whatever. I’m pouring the pasta in now.”

“Don’t forget to stir the pot every once in a while, unless you want to eat a giant lump of half-cooked pasta.”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

Unsurprisingly, his impatient reply prompts Junhui to chuckle, and that is enough to pacify the growing yearning. 

They stay on the line throughout dinner, switching over to Skype once Wonwoo finishes cooking so he can show proof of his (limited) skills. On the other side of the country, Junhui cooked some type of stir fried dish that makes Wonwoo envious.

“I’ll teach you when I come back,” the better cook promises with a smile.

They continue to talk throughout the evening, relocating to the different rooms of their respective residence, pretending the other is with them. Eventually, though, Junhui gently prods him to go to bed. And so with reluctance, they say goodnight and shut off the program.

About a month goes by like that before Wonwoo starts to feel restless. It becomes harder to fall asleep in the large bed, seemingly so cold despite the warm summer weather. The white noise of the apartment is too loud without Junhui’s soft humming as he waltz around doing various tasks to dispel the stifling silence. There’s no warm body leaning against his side when he reads, no soft mop of black hair for him to bury his nose into. It’s not enough that he gets to talk to and see his boyfriend through a screen; Wonwoo wants to touch him, to hold him, to kiss him. 

The need becomes strikingly apparent when Junhui’s workload increases, and in accordance, the frequency of his calls and texts decreases. 

They still talk in the evening while they cook, but by the time they finish their meal, Junhui always looks two seconds away from falling face first against the table. So even though Wonwoo wants nothing more than to spend every second they can together, he sends Junhui off to bed with a sinking heart. It’s only been a little over a month. How is he supposed to handle eleven more?

____________________________

“Maybe you should go see him,” Soonyoung suggests one day during lunch.

It’s a nice Saturday, and he hasn’t felt like staying in the apartment staring at the calendar and counting down the days until Junhui came home. So he called Soonyoung and Mingyu out for food, hoping talking to their friends would distract him from the fact that he hasn’t spoken to his boyfriend for almost a week now. The texts still came from time to time, but they were never more than a few words each. 

Logically, Wonwoo knows that Junhui is busy. Before he turned semi-AWOL, he told Wonwoo about his new schedule and responsibilities. The younger was surprised he could even go home considering the long lists of tasks to get done on the regular. But logic helps very little against worries and longing. 

“I can’t just buy a plane ticket,” Wonwoo replies to Soonyoung’s suggestion, picking at the straw wrapper. “Besides, I don’t want to come across as needy and pathetic.”

That comment earns a raised brow from Mingyu, and Wonwoo scowls. 

“Don’t give me that look,” the latter snaps. “We all know you’d be ten times worse if Minghao left your sorry ass for a job.”

Mingyu throws a crumpled napkin at him. “I miss Junhui. You’re such a dick without him around.”

Wonwoo doesn’t comment, choosing to sip on his iced coffee instead.

Heaving a sigh, Soonyoung leans back into his chair and knots his hands behind his head. “I gotta say, I’m surprised.”

“About what?”

Throwing him a look, Soonyoung elaborates, “I always figured Junnie would be the clingy one, the one to blow up your phone all day with stupidly cute texts and selfies, needing constant attention and affection.” He shrugs. “Never thought I’d see the day you complain about this. Guess you do have emotions under that layer of ice, Elsa.”

Mingyu guffaws at the joke, and the idiots high-five.

Not amused, Wonwoo contemplates kicking both of their shins under the table. Instead, he grumbles, “It’s been six months, I think I’m allowed to miss him.”

“Sure,” Soonyoung sings songs. “But it’s still a fascinating turn of events.”

Rubbing his face tiredly, Wonwoo mutters under his breath, “I don’t know why I asked you guys to keep me company.” 

“What are friends for?” Mingyu exclaims, slapping his shoulder with too much enthusiasm. The oversized puppy drums out a beat over his back, meant to snap him out of his moping. But Wonwoo heaves a sigh and plants his cheek on a fist.

His focus is concentrating on squeezing the straw wrapper into the smallest ball he can manage, so he misses the worried looks his friends throw each other over his head. After a second, they nod, resolute.

“Alright, Mopey,” Mingyu shakes him and yanks him up by an arm. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” he wants to know, wary as he eyes the boys on either side of him.

“You’ll see,” Soonyoung replies. “Mingyu, call the others.” 

“Hey! Sorry, I’ve been—Wonwoo? Are you… drunk?” Junhui’s expression darkens, going from excitement to anxious in less than a second. 

Wonwoo stares numbly at the screen through glossy eyes, head nestled in his arms. 

It’s a little after midnight. Their friends just dropped him off at home a few minutes ago. After lunch with Soonyoung and Mingyu, they took him shopping for food and drinks, then dragged him to Seungcheol’s place where Jeonghan and Jisoo were waiting. They spent the afternoon distracting him with various activities and games, and of course, drinks. They kept a close eye on him, though, not allowing more than a couple bottles lest the alcohol caused him to do things he’d regret the next morning. While he didn’t admit it out loud, he was somewhat grateful for their little impromptu party. For a few hours, he forgot all about Junhui being miles and miles away.

When his laptop dinged for an incoming video chat request, though, everything came crashing down. And so now here he sits at the kitchen counter, brain swimming in alcohol and wistful thinking. 

“I’m fine,” he slurs, smiling foolishly at Junhui’s frown. “How are you?”

The crease between his brows doesn’t disappear. “Busy. I’m sorry I haven’t been communicating as much lately. Are you doing all right?” The worry is evident in his tone and body language, especially when he leans toward the screen in an attempt to assess Wonwoo’s face. Well, the half that wasn’t buried in his folded arms.

“I’m fine,” he repeats himself. “Just missing y—”

“Hey, can I use your microwave?” a new and unfamiliar voice interrupts him. 

Despite the alcohol, Wonwoo’s alertness skyrockets. He sits up in the chair, brows furrowing as he watches Junhui turn away from him to address the person off-screen. In such a short time, the latter succeeds in wiping the worry frown off and replace it with a pleasant smile.

“Oh, yeah! Go ahead. The chopsticks are in the first drawer, bowls in the cabinet right above your head.”

“Thanks.”

There’s some feet shuffling and doors opening.

“Can you reach it?” Junhui laughs, and the other person growls.

“Don’t fucking start with me, Moon Junnie.” 

The stupidly cute grin is still on his face when he turns back to Wonwoo. 

“Who’s that?” the latter asks, stomach queasy for a whole other reason than the beer.

“Oh, Jihoon,” Junhui answers innocently. “Remember? The friend I told you about. We work together.”

“What is he doing at your apartment?” Wonwoo isn’t sure he wants to know the answer, but he can’t not ask. 

Junhui doesn’t pick up on the unease or growing frustration from his boyfriend. “We’re just taking a break. His apartment is too far to make it back to the lab in time to count the specimen. Um…” He bites his lip. “Do you want to say hi?”

Not really. “Yeah, sure.”

A bright smile flashes across his face as he scoots back to look for his coworker. They’re just coworkers. Friends at the most. “Jihoon! Come here for a second.” He waves excitedly. A few seconds later, a short boy with highlighter-yellow hair comes into frame, wearing a pair of round glasses. His features are soft and cuddly, which is a complete contrast to his stiff demeanor. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t register much of that. He’s too busy zoning in on Junhui’s hand holding the other to pull him over, almost into his lap. They’re standing too close. Junhui’s smile is too bright, too fond as he gazes up at the other male from his seat. Wonwoo’s chest tightens and an uncomfortable heat rushes through his body to his head. He grits his teeth, sucking in a breath that Junhui doesn’t notice, because he’s too busy trying to pull Jihoon closer. 

“This is Wonwoo,” Junhui says, waving at him with that childish grin again. The one that’s able to make Wonwoo’s stomach tumble. “And this is Jihoon. Say hi!”

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

The two new acquaintances stare at each other without much of a reaction. Meanwhile, Junhui’s eyes dart from his companion to the screen, expectant and excited, for some reason. What exactly is he anticipating? For Wonwoo and Jihoon to become instant friends or something? Wonwoo still isn’t over the weird and troubled sensation in his chest. 

“Wow,” Junhui giggles, “You guys are like twins.”

Does that mean he thinks Jihoon could replace him? The queasiness in his stomach grows, and he has a hard time breathing normally. 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “You need to get your vision checked if you think we’re similar.”

The oblivious boy shrugs, still smiling. “I’m not talking about looks, though. You guys are a lot alike.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” the other replies impatiently. Then he turns to Wonwoo, “Well, it was nice to meet you, Wonwoo.”

“Yeah,” he replies curtly. “Same.”

The shorter male nods, then glances to the right. “Food’s ready. You better eat something, too.”

“I will.” 

As Jihoon leaves to get his food out of the microwave, Wonwoo scowls when he notices pale and dainty fingers lingering by Junhui’s neck, eliciting a giggle as he pulls away, ticklish. Wonwoo doesn’t want to think about how Jihoon would know that Junhui is ticklish, when they’re supposed to be working in a lab. 

“Did you eat?” Junhui asks now, smiling innocently at him.

“I did,” he says flatly.

Seemingly taken aback, he blinks. “Oh, okay.” A pause. He glances toward the direction that Jihoon left. Wonwoo fists his hands. “Um, I need to get going soon, but can I call you tomorrow? We can talk more and—”  

“Don’t bother yourself,” he interrupts. "You don't have to keep calling me before meals, either. I can manage on my own."

Doe eyes gaze at him questiofinging, and full lips part to ask him why.

“I’m sure you’ll be busy again with the projects. I have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow anyway.”

“Oh. I see.” His voice is tiny and defeated. He licks his lips, gaze lowered. Wonwoo can see him fidgeting with his fingers. 

It takes Wonwoo all of his self-control not to apologize and console his dejected kitten. But the irritation is mounting, and he can’t get his thoughts away from how familiar and intimate his and Jihoon’s interactions were. 

“I’m tired, I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Of course,” Junhui concedes right away with vigorous nods. “Sorry for keeping you up. Goodnight, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo sucks in a breath and forces himself to look away from the vulnerable and guilty expression on his boyfriend’s face. “Night, Junnie.” He clicks the ‘End Call’ and shuts his laptop.

____________________________

“What the hell happened yesterday?” Soonyoung demands the next day, storming into the apartment.

Wonwoo’s head is throbbing from the night of drinking and lack of sleep. He’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes, hair sticking up every which way as he rubs his face tiredly. Not answering Soonyoung, he flops onto the couch and listens to his friend stomp over to stand in front of him.

When he refuses to answer, the other shoves his phone in front of his nose.

Junnie~Jun~Jun: Hey, Hoshi

Junnie~Jun~Jun: Is Wonwoo ok? Can you please check up on him?

Junnie~Jun~Jun: I don’t think he wants to talk to me. Did I do something wrong?

Wonwoo pushes the phone away without a second look at its owner. 

“You understand my confusion upon receiving these texts,” he says, voice drifting over Wonwoo’s head. “So I called him.”

At this, the younger glances up. Soonyoung is frowning at him, an air of exasperation marring his usual cheerful face.

“What is your problem, man? Yesterday, you were moping because Junnie doesn’t give you enough attention. And then he does, and you act like you don’t need it. What do you want him to do?” 

Seething, Wonwoo chews on his tongue. When he finally meets the other’s gaze, he demands, “So I should be happy that he’s hanging out with another guy, late at night, in his own apartment?”

“Oh my fucking god!” Soonyoung exclaims, ready to pull his own hair out. “They’re friends. They work together! Didn’t he tell you the same thing? He even introduced you. You don’t go introducing your boyfriend to your secret lover, or the other way around.”

“You didn’t see them together,” he mutters, recalling the hateful images, which was enough to make his blood boil again. He screws his eyes shut in hopes to erasing them from memory. “Jun was all over him.”

“Jun is all over everybody!” Soonyoung nearly shouts. “And it never means anything. You should know that." He's met with silence. He goes on, "I don’t see you throwing a jealous fit when he hangs out with Hansol.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it!" Wonwoo shouts back. "But that’s not the point. I know Hansol. I don’t know anything about this Jihoon guy. I don’t know what they do together.”

Soonyoung lets out a sigh, closing his eyes. “They count fish in a tank. Then they dissect them. Very romantic.”

Wonwoo glares at him. “Whatever. Leave me alone.”

“No.” He picks up a pillow off of the couch and hits Wonwoo over the head. “You need to fix this. Junnie doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment.” 

Yanking the pillow out of his hands, the sulking apartment tenant crushes it to his chest. “Well, maybe he’s better off with Jihoon.”

“You know what? Maybe he does!” Soonyoung shouts, marching toward the door. “You’re a shitty boyfriend, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Door slam.

Groaning out in frustration, Wonwoo falls back onto the couch and covers his face with the cushion.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knows, he’s woken up by a ringtone. Junhui’s ringtone to be exact. He scrambles to a sitting position and rolls off the couch, following the volume of the song in order to look for his phone. At last, he finds it before it goes to voicemail. He throws a lingering gaze at his lock screen: Junhui in his Halloween “costume”, which was just a pair of black cat ears. 

“Hel—” 

“I’m coming home.”

A cold chill shoots down his spine. “Huh?” Did he mishear him? Did something happen? It’s the middle of the afternoon, Junhui should still be in the lab. “What do you mean?”

Junhui takes in a wavering breath before speaking. “Soonyoung says you’re upset about… this, and about Jihoon. I don’t want this internship to break us up. There’ll be more opportunities in the future, hopefully closer to home.”

Wonwoo’s brain is reeling, trying to keep up and make out the words spoken, understand through the hazy state of his mind. “Wait, Junnie, don’t come home.”

A pause. “You don’t want me to come home?” There’s so much fear in the soft voice, Wonwoo feels a pang pierce through his chest.

“No, that came out wrong,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Don’t end your internship early. Stay and finish it.”

“But—” 

“I mean it, Junnie.” Swallowing, he runs a hand through his hair and walks over to the window overlooking the streets. “It—I—was stupid,” he admits. “Just…” 

From the corner of his eye, he sees one of the frames decorating the bookshelf. It’s a shot of the both of them standing in front of the ocean, smiling widely, eyes squinting against the harsh glare of the sun. His fingers trace over the glass. 

“I miss you.” The words are spoken so softly, he’s not sure Junhui hears them. 

But Junhui echoes, “I miss you, too,” just as gently. Wonwoo grips the phone tighter, feeling both elation and pain. The older waits a few seconds before continuing, “I knew long distance was difficult, but I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

Somehow, Wonwoo manages a wry chuckle. “And I haven’t made it any easier on you. I’m sorry.”

Junhui laughs, but it sounds wet. Wonwoo hates himself. “I’m sorry, too. I don’t know how Altair and Vega did it.”

Now Wonwoo’s laugh is more amused than wry. “Because they love each other.”

“Jeon Wonwoo,” Junhui giggles. “When did you start saying such cheesy things?”

The younger cracks a smile. “But you don’t hate it.”

“No,” the other agrees. “I don’t. And I don’t hate you, either.”

“Good. Because I’d hate you if you did.”

Bad joke it may be, but when he earns a fit of clear and happy giggles, he thinks it’s very much the best joke he’s ever told.

____________________________

About a week later, a package arrives in the mail. Wonwoo doesn’t remember ordering anything, so at first, he thinks it’s Junhui’s. But when he checks the name, it’s for him. Only then does he glance at the sender’s information. He’s pleasantly surprised to realize that Junhui sent him something.

Carefully, he cuts the tape and opens the flaps. Only to be completely confused. Why did Junhui send him a YA book series? A terrible one, at that. He’s read the reviews for it once just to see what the buzz was about. Not only is the plot cliché and predictable, the characters are unlikable and dumb. Back then, Junhui had agreed that the popularity made no sense, so Wonwoo has no idea why he’d send him the exact same book series. 

He removes the books and finds a few more things at the bottom of the box: a stack of post-it notes with more doodles and recipes, a few bags of veggie snacks, and a letter. 

Of course, Wonwoo thinks, as he unfolds the paper, the stationery is full of cartoon cats dancing. 

Dear Wonwoo,

Here’s your first care package! I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to think of doing this. 

Anyway! We’re a little more than halfway there, so I thought I’d help you pass the time with this  wonderful book series! lol. One of the lead researchers let me borrow the first copy from her daughter. It’s just as awful as we thought it’d be hahaha. Awful as YA, but hilarious nonetheless. Check it out and tell me what you think. I know you have the ability to finish multiple books in the space of a few days, but I have a feeling it’ll take you until my flight home to get through these ;D

So enjoy! I look forward to hearing your thoughts ٩(^ᴗ^)۶

                      -Junnie. (⁎˃ᆺ˂)

P.S.: Try the new recipes! Mingyu says he’ll come help if you need it, but I think they’re simple enough for a beginner!

P.P.S: Writing a letter by hand is exciting! I haven’t done this since middle school when we had pen pals lol.

Wonwoo doesn’t know how long he’s been smiling, but when he glances up and catches his reflection, he’s grinning like an idiot. And yet he feels completely okay with it. He puts the snacks into the cupboard, keeping one packet out for his immediate consumption, then goes to stick the post-its to the fridge to keep the doodled rabbit company. As he goes through the pile, he notices that Junhui included additional drawings, like a squirrel, a carp, and more cats. Wonwoo ends up spending way more time than was considering healthy going through the apartment with tape to stick them up. 

Once he’s procrastinated long enough, he picks up the first volume of the distasteful series and relocates to the couch. He barely manages to get through the first ten pages before he wants to throw it out of his window. Sometimes, he questions the brain capacity of editors and publishing houses.

That night, when he Skypes with Junhui for a few minutes before the latter has to return to dissect more fish, he’s managed to come up with a detailed list of everything that’s wrong with the first chapter. 

“I can’t believe you’d put me through this,” he says, “It’s torture.”

Instead of feeling sorry, Junhui laughs. “You can always stop. I’m not forcing you.”

Of course not, but Wonwoo has never been very good at saying no to his boyfriend.

And so for the following months, he divides his free time into video calls, a few outings with their friends, and reading what he can only dub as ‘a waste of paper and ink.’ His list of grievances had quickly gone from a few bullet points to filling out a whole notebook by the time he comes to the last half of the fourth book. Every time he looks at it, he has to give himself a pat on the back for sticking with it for so long. If it weren’t for Junhui and the desire to please him, Wonwoo probably would have ripped the pages into shreds.

And then just like that, Junhui’s homecoming day sneaks up on him. Well, not exactly considering Junhui’s been doing a countdown since the first day of the twelfth month. But Wonwoo does have to admit that that awful story has managed to make time pass faster, so now he feels conflicted about his hatred for it. Not that it matters, because Junhui is coming home in less than twenty-four hours.

He’s grateful that he has work today, because otherwise, he might have driven to the airport first thing in the morning and spent the entire day waiting for Junhui’s flight to land. Not that he’s very productive when he shows up to the office, but at least there’s something for him to focus on that’s not the ticking clock.

At the end of his shift, he can’t get out of the building fast enough. The only thing that makes him stop is the ding! of his phone. Sitting in the car, he pulls it out to check.

Meow & Furr-Ever: My flight’s been delayed. Something’s wrong with one of the engines.

Meow & Furr-Ever: I won’t be home until tomorrow morning ╥﹏╥

Wonwoo’s heart sinks. He sits there for a good while before he manages to reply.

Wonwoo: It’s ok. Stay safe. I’ll pick you up in the morning

The speed with which he drives home is significantly slower (but safer) than he imagined this morning. Upon waking up, he'd figured that at this time, he would be speeding down the highway toward the airport and finally get to hold Junhui. But obviously, life hates him. 

He drags his feet down the hallway of the building, fishing his keys out of his pocket to insert into the lock. The mechanism clicks, and he turns the knob to push the door open.

Suddenly, it’s yanked out of his grip. 

The unexpected action causes him to jump back by instinct, head snapping up. He freezes, eyes blown wide.

There’s barely time for his brain to process what is happening, before he’s crushed by a pair of familiar arms around his waist. A mop of black hair nestles into the crook of his neck, and joyful giggles echo down the hall. Everything is so overwhelming. The boy in his arms, his name being called, the tickling feeling against his chin, the warmth seeping through the cotton fabric under his hands.

Junhui’s home.

His mind flips through the twelve months prior, remembering all the lonely nights and long days missing him. All the time wishing for this moment. His heart is ready to burst at this point.

At last, his brain catches up. His arms tighten around Junhui’s strong back, embracing him.

“God, I missed you,” he whispers against the black hair, trailing his lips down to kiss his temple. 

Junhui laughs, warm breath blowing over his neck. He kisses the spot there. “Me too. So much.”

Inching away, Wonwoo cups his hands around Junhui’s face, running his thumbs under his eyes to catch the overflowing drops of happiness. “I can’t believe you tricked me,” he says with a wide grin.

Junhui mirrors the action. “Surprise!” 

Laughing, they enter the apartment with their arms around each other’s waist. 

Wonwoo is surprised to see that there’s several cooking wares on the stove, along with ingredients neatly organized on the chopping board, all ready to be added and cooked. Seeing the sheer shock on his boyfriend’s face, Junhui laughs and pecks his cheek.

“Surprise! Again.”

“When did you…” his question is left unfinished as he glances at the grinning boy. “Your original flight isn’t supposed to land for another half hour.”

“Correct,” Junhui nods. “But I was able to book an earlier flight because of some cancelation. So I got here a little after one this afternoon. Thought I’d go shopping and make something good for just the two of us. Soonyoung insisted on a party tomorrow night, though.”

Wonwoo nods. At this point, he’d agree to pretty much everything Junhui wanted.

It’s unbelievable how easily they just fall back to their routine. He follows Junhui into the kitchen, keeping his arms wrapped around the other’s waist, chin propped over his shoulder. Even with the year of absence, the older shows no sign of minding having a long-limbed koala clinging to his back as he moves around. Wonwoo figures he’s done it often enough that Junhui’s grown used to it.

He does protest when Wonwoo bites into the junction of his neck and shoulder, though.

“Hey!” he hisses, almost dropping the ladle into the noodle broth. “Now’s not the time for that.” 

Wonwoo arches a brow, smirk tugging a corner of his lips. He presses closer, mouth hovering over the tender flesh, making sure his breath blows over it and his lips brush over the small dents. “Are you saying it’s okay later on?”

Junhui does a very poor job at suppressing the shiver. He turns a glare over his shoulder, but Wonwoo takes one look at the blooming pink tints on his cheeks, and he bursts into laughter. 

“I haven’t been home for a whole evening, and you’re already teasing me,” the blushing brunet grumbles. “You’re terrible.”

“I know you don’t mean that,” the other counters right away, swaying them back and forth. 

Junhui narrows his eyes and reaches over to poke Wonwoo’s forehand. “No present for you.”

“Oh, come on!” Wonwoo pretends to whine, knowing most of Junhui’s threats are empty nine out of ten times. “Gimme!”

“Then be good.”

“I’m always good,” he retorts, returning his chin to Junhui’s shoulder, smiling at him angelically. The gesture makes the older laugh, and Wonwoo squeezes him, feeling a pleasant sense of contentment and happiness wash over him.

Eventually, Junhui manages to finish dinner despite Wonwoo’s constant teasing and need to taste everything. During dinner, they talk about Junhui’s flight, moving on to various stories at the lab with its interesting people. While the stories are funny and entertaining, Wonwoo has a much more enjoyable time watching Junhui talk with his hands flying all over as he gets excited. Wonwoo smiles as he listens to the sound of the brunet's voice and the laughter that accompanies it. 

Junhui’s home.

“Okay, that’s the last of it,” Junhui states, putting aside the weirdly cute socks he got for Jeonghan as souvenirs. 

They’re sitting on the couch with the suitcases open to sort through the various presents Junhui bought for their friends. Wonwoo takes another look at the pile of gifts, then turns to his boyfriend.

“Where’s mine?”

Doe eyes blink innocently at him. “Right here.” He cups his hands under his chin and grins. “I came home.”

Letting out an incredulous laugh, he tackles the cheeky brunet and attacks him with tickles. Shrieks and laughter fill the room, which are only interrupted by taunts and answering pleads of mercy. The battle doesn’t end until both parties are too breathless from laughing to go on. 

The boys lay sprawled out on the couch, chests heaving, and cheeks sore. Still, they’re not too tired to find each other’s hands and lace their fingers together, exchanging tired but happy smiles.

Once they catch their breath, Junhui sits up and goes to the bedroom to bring out what looks like a shoe box. Wonwoo arches a brow, questioning whether Junhui bought him shoes. Athletic shoes, no less, judging by the brand. He sure hopes not. Wonwoo is far from athletic, so he’s really not looking forward to Junhui potentially adopting a liking for jogging or working out.

“It’s not running shoes,” Junhui says right away when he notices the apprehensive look Wonwoo throws the box. “I just needed something to put these in, and I didn't have anything else that could fit.” Holding the box with both hands, he offers it to his boyfriend.

Curious now, Wonwoo accepts the gift, but he doesn’t fail to notice the blush creeping back. “Can I open it now?”

“Mhm,” Junhui nods, biting his bottom lip and pulling a pillow over his lap to grip. 

With his heart thumping, he shakes it a little to get a feel for it. The content seems not quite light, but not hefty either. It sounds like there’s more than one item inside as they hit against the sides when he shakes the box again. He peels the tape and lifts the lid away. 

Blinking, he glances down at a rainbow of papers, all folded into neat squares a couple inches wide. He picks one up to examine it, noting a number written, 17. Trying to examine the rest, he sees that the numbers go up to the hundreds. How many are there? When he looks over at the gift bearer, Junhui smiles sheepishly at him.

“Three hundred sixty-five,” he states, answering Wonwoo’s unposed question. “I know it’s technically less than that, but I thought it’d be nicer so I wrote a few extras.” 

They’re notes, Wonwoo realizes. One for each day they were away. It’s either the sappiest gesture anyone could pull, or the most thoughtful. Or both. Which describes Junhui pretty well, actually. He can’t help chuckling happily.

“Can I open them?” he asks, digging for number one.

“Er…” Junhui makes a face and darts his eyes away. “You can, but it’s just kinda embarrassing sitting here as you read through them.” 

“But you wrote them,” he points out, finding the shyness quite endearing. “With the intent of me reading them later.”

“I know,” the other concedes, but he’s still not meeting Wonwoo’s gaze. 

The latter chuckles and places the box on the coffee table, then he pulls Junhui to him. “Alright. I’ll read them when you’re out.”

Relief shows as Junhui’s handsome face relaxes, and he leans fully against Wonwoo’s side. He nuzzles against his chest, sighing in satisfaction. Their hands are linked as Wonwoo rests his cheek on the crown of Junhui’s head, basking in the comfort of having his boyfriend back in his arms.

“Welcome home,” he wishes quietly. “I love you.”

A giggle. “I love you, too.” 

____________________________

A weight lifts off of his chest, followed by the rustling of bedsheets pulls Wonwoo halfway out of dreamland. He cracks one eye open and quickly shuts it again when a bright ray of sunlight filters through the crack in the blinds and hits him smack in the face. But thanks to that little wakeup call, he senses Junhui moving, knowing the older is about to go get breakfast ready.

He keeps his eyes closed and waits until Junhui thinks he’s fallen back asleep. As soon as the older has his back turned to slide out of bed, Wonwoo grabs his waist and pulls him back.

Junhui lands with a little startled oof! Blinking rapidly, he glances down at the boy burying his face into his stomach, arms refusing to come undone. Chuckling, he runs a hand through the bedhead, untangling the short strands and smoothing them out somewhat.

“Good morning,” he sings, prompting Wonwoo to smile contently.

“’Morning.”

“What’s wrong? You’re usually never up at this hour,” he asks gently, still carding his fingers through the brown locks, massaging the scalp.

“Nothing,” the usual night owl claims. “I just don’t want you to leave yet.” 

There’s a short chuckle in response. “You’re not normally this clingy, though,” he remarks. 

That’s what Soonyoung and Mingyu told him, and what he personally believed too. Yet obviously they were all wrong. He can get needy too, apparently. It’s unfortunate that it took Junhui leaving home for a whole year for him to figure it out; but it’s good to know. 

“You’d be like this too if I left you for an entire year,” he argues.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Furrowing his brows, he moves his face away from Junhui’s stomach to lay back against the pillows, faces inches away from each other’s. “Let’s not fight about who was more needy.” Junhui stares at him with an air of confusion, but he moves past it. “Can I read the notes now?”

“What notes?”

His scowl deepens. “The ones you wrote to me while you were away!”

“Wonwoo,” Junhui calls softly, brushing a hand over his boyfriend’s cheek. “Are you still half-asleep?” 

With a start, Wonwoo blinks rapidly and sits up. He examines the room, seeing no trace of the doodles he’s stuck to the walls, nor any suitcases laying on the ground. Wait… It was all a dream?

“I can’t believe this,” he mutters.

“Wonwoo,” Junhui calls again, more worried this time. He reaches a hand out to squeeze the younger’s. “What’s wrong?”

A wry laugh escapes, and he rubs his face as he shakes his head. Now he remembers. Last night, they were sitting on the couch watching that Travel Channel show, and then the topic of Tanabata came up. That’s probably what prompted the vivid dream.

Turning to Junhui, he finally tells him. 

“Wow!” the brunet exclaims. “That’s… pretty intensive for a dream.”

“Mhm,” he hums in response. 

"But hey." Junhui swats his arm. "I was right! Technology isn't enough."

Narrowing his eyes, he refuses to acknowledge his loss. "Whatever. It's not like it was real, anyway."

Junhui laughs, poking his shoulder playfully. "But it might have been, for all you know. You believed it was real for a while."

Wonwoo makes a face, then plops back to bed, reaching for the warm hand next to him and tugging the playful cat close. He shifts their positions until he has Junhui pinned beneath him, grinning mischievously. “In that case, I better make sure I’m fully awake,” he murmurs and leans down to nip at the pink and plump lips, dragging his tongue across them. Junhui lets out an impatient moan, and Wonwoo smirks into the kiss, coaxing his tongue out to tangle them together.  

When Junhui starts to pant, he slides over to the exposed skin of his neck, sucking at one particular spot that causes the older to writhe and sigh sweetly in response, gripping the back of his head. He leaves a trail of blossoming marks, reaching the defined collarbones, where he swirls his tongue into the dip at the base of Junhui’s throat. A series of soft sighs fills the room, matched only by tender whispers of names.

“Wonwoo,” Junhui moans, and he swears the erotic quality of that voice calling his name works better than any aphrodisiac. “We gotta get up, or we’ll be late.”

In Wonwoo’s hazy mind, there’s a tiny part that recalls some sort of meet up today, but he can’t bring himself to care enough. His hand slides beneath Junhui’s shirt and traces the firm planes of muscles. 

“Wonwoo, come on,” the brunet continues to urge, but shows no sign of stopping either. In fact, his leg comes to hook around Wonwoo’s hip, while his hands comb through the brown strands, redirecting the kissing back to his mouth.

He pulls away enough to retort with a smirk, “For someone who wants us to go, you’re doing a pretty damn bad job at convincing me.” 

“It’s your own fault,” Junhui hisses, licking a trail to his ear and sucking the lobe between his teeth. “Minghao and Mingyu are gonna be so mad.”

Wonwoo swallows the moans that follow, nuzzling into Junhui’s neck as his fingers work at the buttons of the pajama top with blinding speed. “We’ll just reschedule,” he pants, “that’s what phones are for.”

“You must have really missed me,” Junhui teases, chucking his shirt to floor.

Wonwoo cups his cheek and gazes at him, tracing his thumb over the swollen bottom lip. He grins as he presses their foreheads together, euphoria coursing through his veins when Junhui smiles fondly at him. “I did. Let me show you just how much.”