Archive of Our Own ^beta

You've haunted me in colors
I've never seen
I feel strange and unprotected,
But I'm weightless like I’m falling on the moon

I'm falling slow for you

When Jae is twelve, he’s convinced that he’s never going to find his soulmate.

When he tells his mom this, and she pets his hair and says, “I don’t know about that, Jae baby. What’s got you thinking that?”

Jae bluntly replies, “‘Cause no one wants to be friends with me ‘cause of my stupid allergies.” He gives a pointed sniffle before he continues pouting. “No one wants to talk to the guy who has to bring his own tissue box to class. Not even the teachers like me ‘cause I used all their tissues. That’s so lame, Mom.”

“You know what’s lame? Your attitude.” She taps the tip of his nose. “Your soulmate is meant for you, Jae baby. They’re not gonna mind a few sniffles now and then.”

“What if I never get to see all the colors, though?” Jae asks, kicking his feet. His heels hit the bedframe in a jagged rhythm and make the bed shudder beneath them. “What if — What if I’m the only one?”

“You know what I’ve told you about what ifs, Jae Park,” his mother says firmly. “Do you think I would’ve come to America if I’d gotten caught up in all the thoughts in my head asking, ‘What if this goes wrong? What if I’d be better off just staying put?’” She raises her eyebrow at him. “Well?”

“No,” Jae says reluctantly.

“If I had, I never would’ve met your dad. I never would’ve found my soulmate, and you” — she bumps their shoulders together, practically the same height as him despite how much more he still has to grow — “would never have existed. And what kind of life would that have been?” When Jae doesn’t answer, she grins at him. “You see?”

“Yeah,” Jae says automatically before frowning. “Wait...what do I see?”

His mom laughs and it makes Jae crack a smile too despite the anxiety that’s been swirling in his stomach for weeks. “You can’t let yourself be paralyzed by fear,” she tells him. “If you fear the future, it’ll just pass you by. Then before you know it, you’ve just made all your fears come true.”

“How is that supposed to help me when it just reminds me how scary everything is?” Jae asks.

“Because, Jae baby,” she says, “you shouldn’t think of what you have to lose. Think of all you stand to gain.”

In that moment, it sounds so easy, the way advice tends to do.

In reality, it takes a long time for him to realize just how difficult that can be.

Jae isn’t sure if he’s more scared of being alone or never having the black and white world around him flooded with color. They talk about it so much in books and movies and music — Jae knows he’s plucked out a few melodies of his own on his battered second-hand guitar and sung about colors he’s never seen just because it’s everywhere, and what else is he supposed to write songs about?

He lies on his bed and stares at the water stain in the ceiling from the storms last summer and wonders if, once he’s found the right someone to say those three words to him and bring color rushing into everything he sees, even something as plain as that might become beautiful. Even though he’s asked his mom what color it is before — the only response he’d gotten was a frown and an “I thought I told your dad to call the roofing company to fix that,” — there’s a part of him that hungers to see it for himself.

Jae lives through his senses. It’s not that he’s not thoughtful; if you ask him, he thinks he’s pretty good with words and ideas. It’s just that so much of what he puts out into the world is based on what the world gives him to work with in the first place, the sights and sounds that hit him in the gut and fire up his heart and brain.

The idea that there’s a sense he’s missing out on terrifies him. Maybe it’s irrational. Maybe it’s just misplaced worry about never having friends, let alone a soulmate.

Still, Jae thinks. There’s something about the romance of it, of finding the one person perfect for you, of having three little words change your world forever. Even as young as he is, Jae considers himself a romantic. He’s an artist. What kind of artist doesn’t believe in perfect love? More than that, what kind of artist lives without color?

His mom brings up something about Beethoven, but it doesn’t stop Jae from hoping.

When Jae is thirteen, he meets Brian.

There's a new kid. There's also exactly one open seat.

Of course, it's the one next to Jae. It's not his fault, he tells himself. He heard Jenny Lim telling the other kids that he was contagious, which is a bald-faced lie and Jae is totally going to tell her mom when they're at Korean school on Sunday. That'll show her.

Thankfully, the new kid doesn't know Jenny Lim, and he doesn't know Jae either. He slips his dorkily tight backpack straps down his arms and takes his seat, visibly nervous.

"Hey, man," Jae says, leaning back in his chair to try to look cool. "What's good?"

The new kid blinks owlishly at him. "What's...good?" he asks, his words heavily accented.

“Yeah, you know, like — ” Jae hesitates, realizing he doesn’t really know how to explain the phrase. “Like what’s up, kind of?”

The boy’s eyes light up with recognition. “What’s up!” he says enthusiastically, accompanied by a vague hand gesture that seems to communicate hi mixed with a little sometimes I watch rap music videos online.

“Yeah!” Jae grins. “You got it, dude.”

The kid bobs his head in agreement. “Thanks, dude,” he parrots back at Jae.

Jae thinks he likes this new kid. But he definitely needs to run some more calculations before he decides if he knows he likes him.

“What kind of music do you like?” Jae asks, squinting at the boy’s face for hints as he answers the all-important question.

“Everything?” The boy says with a shy smile. “I like guitars.” He mimics strumming with his hands as if he doesn’t trust his accent to be understandable. Jae thinks it’s the smartest thing he’s ever seen; he’s definitely going to use that when he’s in Korean school and they tell him his pronunciation is “unforgivable.”

“I’m learning how the play the guitar,” Jae says proudly. It’s not technically a lie. He does own a second-hand acoustic guitar and he’s figured out a couple chords from pestering his older sister’s boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. Him not coming around anymore really threw a wrench in Jae’s musical education, and Jae is entirely sure he’ll never forgive his sister for dumping the guy.

The kid’s eyes widen almost comically. “You have a guitar?” he asks, sounding almost worshipful.

“Yep.” Jae smiles. “You can come see it if you want.”

If the boy’s eyes were wide before, now they look like they might pop right out of his head. “Are — Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” Jae says. “I’ve never — ” He stops himself from saying had anyone from school over before. This guy doesn’t need to know that. “I’ve never had anyone over to look at it, so it’ll be extra special,” he says instead.

The boy nods, incredibly earnest. It looks funny on a boy his age, Jae thinks, but it suits him.

“Extra special,” the kid repeats.

Yeah, Jae definitely likes the new kid.

“Mom!” Jae yells as he walks in the front door. He pauses and turns to the boy. “What’s your name?”

The boy stands up straight and says very proudly, “Brian.”

“Brian’s here!” Jae reports to his mother before turning and saying to Brian, “That’s so American.”

“I picked it myself,” Brian says.

“That’s so cool,” Jae says wistfully. “I wish I got to pick my name.”

“Jae’s a cool name too,” Brian reassures him.

Jae can’t help but puff up his chest a little. He likes having Brian around. He makes Jae feel good about himself, which isn’t a way he’s used to feeling around other kids his age.

Brian is a good friend, Jae thinks. And he’s only known him for a day.

It becomes an almost-daily thing for Brian to ride the bus home from school with Jae, throw a quick Hey, Mrs. Park! behind them as the run up the stairs, and then lock themselves in Jae’s room, passing the guitar between them for hours.

Their hands aren’t quite big enough yet to fully span the fretboard, and the strings are brutally unforgiving on their tender fingertips, but Jae finds he doesn’t really mind the pain when Brian is enthusiastically guiding Jae’s fingers into a new configuration.

“Obviously, the most important thing about playing guitar is the music,” Jae says solemnly.

“Obviously,” Brian repeats. Even though his English is improving drastically — Jae secretly thinks Brian might actually be a genius from watching how fast he learns languages and the guitar — he still has a habit of repeating words after Jae. It makes Jae feel kind of special. Brian always makes Jae feel kind of special.

He’s glad, because he thinks Brian is pretty special in his own right.

“You know the second best thing about the guitar, though?” Jae asks, leaning in conspiratorially.

“What?” Brian asks eagerly.

Jae hits a C chord (one of the more painful ones, but it’s worth it when Brian’s eyes widen appreciatively). “Guitars get you mad chicks, bro.”

“Mad chicks,” Brian repeats after him, nodding in earnest agreement.

He sits on Jae’s bed next to him for the rest of the afternoon, until his mom calls Jae’s mom and tells him his supper is getting cold. He watches Jae’s clumsy fingers on the guitar strings with starry eyes.

It makes Jae swell up with pride and some other emotion he can’t quite define.

In the end, despite Jae’s slowly-but-steadily developing guitar skills, Brian ends up getting a girlfriend before he does.

To be fair, they’ve only been practicing together on Jae’s old guitar for a year, so Jae hasn’t fully mastered the AC/DC shredding that’ll get him all the girls he’ll eventually have someday. That and it’s hard to shred on an acoustic guitar. Jae’s been working on it.

But apparently he’s too slow, because while Jae continues on his solo cruise through singlesville, Brian has gotten a girlfriend. She has braces and she’s taller than Brian, plus she has a really good singing voice, so that’s probably why Brian wants to spend time with her.

Clearly, Jae needs to work on his singing.

When Brian first tells him, Jae is genuinely pumped for his best friend (well, his only friend, if he’s honest with himself). He makes Brian promise to tell him all the details about what it’s like to have a girlfriend, and Brian agrees with a grin so wide his eyes almost disappear into little half-moons.

It’s kind of a different story once Jae understands the reality of someone else having a bid on his best friend’s time.

Jae looks up the tabs for Johnny Cash’s “Hurt” and broodingly plucks at the strings of his guitar, mustering up all the angst he can find in his fourteen-year-old body until his mom begs him to Please, play anything but that.

It’s not like Brian’s even being unreasonable or ditching him all the time. It’s just that Jae is utterly convinced that once Brian finds other people to spend time with, he’ll realize that Jae is a sniffly nerd who has nothing to offer but a second-hand guitar. And his mom’s home cooking sometimes, when she’s not too busy.

It’s on the (admittedly) few days that Brian hangs out with his girlfriend rather than Jae that he realizes the soulmate thing hasn’t hounded him for so long because of whatever artistic nonsense he’d told himself before. It’s less to do with an abstract fear of missing out and more to do with a very tangible fear of being alone.

Even when Brian and the girl break up a few months later, Jae’s fear has a name now, and he can’t hide from it anymore.

Brian has other girlfriends. Jae doesn’t.

He does, however, get a boyfriend when they’re sixteen.

It feels like it should be complicated. On the one hand, at least he’s in Southern California instead of out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere; on the other hand, he knows how some Asian-Americans see it, and it’s definitely not in a favorable light. Even if they don’t talk about it out loud, sometimes there’s an undercurrent there as if to say, Not ours, we’re not like that.

If he’s honest with himself, though, Jae doesn’t give a damn about the opinions of everyone else. There’s really just one person he can’t stand the thought of losing.

It finally comes up one night when he’s sleeping over at Brian’s for a change. Jae is on the floor by Brian’s bed and he’s almost asleep when he hears Brian’s soft voice break the silence.

“Jae...you know all the stuff people are saying about you?”

“Huh?” Jae is suddenly wide awake. He hadn’t anticipated Brian bringing it up, he’d thought he would get to do it on his own terms, but here they are. He turns to face Brian, but all he can pick out is the faint glimmer of his eyes in the dark. “What do you mean?”

“About you and…that other guy.”

"I guess it depends on what they're saying," Jae deflects.

“Jae,” Brian says again, and it’s almost a plea. Don’t make me say it.

A sudden burst of irrational courage rises up and Jae’s chest, driven partly by pride and partly by something like a fight-or-flight response. His heart is racing like he’s standing at the edge of a cliff and looking down into teeming, uncharted waters below.

Before he can even think, Jae blurts out, “I’m dating him.”

Geronimo.

Adrenaline is coursing through him and he wonders if his pulse is pounding loud enough for Brian to hear him. God knows it seems to fill Jae’s ears to the point that he almost doesn’t catch Brian’s response.

“I didn’t know you were — ” Brian pauses, and Jae waits like a man on the executioner’s block. He’s thrown for a loop when Brian doesn’t finish his sentence and asks a question instead. Brian’s voice is subdued when he says, “Do you — Is he good to you?”

“What?” Jae asks, certain he’s heard wrong.

He hears Brian take a deep breath, hears how it wavers ever so slightly. “I’m your best friend,” Brian says, and this time when he speaks, Jae can hear the resolve in his voice, no hint of the tremor or timidity from before. “If he isn’t good to you, I have to like, threaten to beat him up. It’s in my job description.”

Jae isn’t sure if his body is trying to laugh or cry in relief, but he manages to choke out, “You couldn’t fight anyone, Bri.”

“I could,” Brian insists. “I’m stronger than you!”

“Everyone’s stronger than me,” Jae points out.

Jae hears Brian giggle followed by the rustle of his comforter, and then suddenly he’s got an entire Brian Kang wriggling his way under Jae’s blanket.

“For real, though,” Brian whispers, finally close enough that Jae can see his features despite the low light, can see the small smile turning up the corners of his lips. “He has to be good to you, okay?”

“Yeah?” Jae’s a little bewildered, more by Brian’s words than his sudden change in location. They’ve fallen asleep sharing the bed before — or sharing a patch of floor, in some cases — so the proximity is nothing particularly new.

“Okay.” Brian nods. “Because you deserve a good boyfriend. And I know the selection is kinda small for you, but — I don’t know where I’m going with this.”

Jae snorts. “I don’t either, man.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is….” Brian fidgets with the stitching at the corner of the blanket. “You’re a good guy.” Jae can feel warmth rush into his cheeks, but he’s saved from having to say anything as Brian continues, “I don’t think enough people tell you that, so I want to make sure you know it. And I think anyone who gets to date you should treat you like you’re special.”

Normally, Jae would respond to this sort of conversation with an awkward laugh and a quick joke to banish the tension, but he’s still so off-kilter from how the conversation’s gone since it started; he went from being terrified he might lose his best friend to said best friend being so close that Jae’s knobby knees are knocking against Brian’s shins.

All Jae can manage is to say, “You’re special too, you know.” He coughs as soon as the compliment’s out and amends it, “I mean, you’re a good friend and stuff. Bro.”

Brian’s smile is sweet as it spreads across his face and Jae can’t help but smile back. There’s something in Brian’s eyes, though, that looks a little like regret, maybe sadness.

Jae chalks it up to the darkness of the room and tries very hard not to think about it.

It’s not that either of them is a player, exactly, but neither of them ever goes single for too long.

Brian doesn’t even have to work for it, sweet as candy with a smile that melts girls’ hearts. Throw in a guitar and the baby fat finally starting to melt off his face, and he’s nothing short of a panty-dropper, although he whines and cringes every time Jae calls him that. Jae knows the truth; he can see the self-satisfied smile Brian tries to hide when Jae compliments him, but Jae won’t be so easily fooled after all these years.

Jae, on the other hand, does have to work for it, his humor honed sharp from years of being...well, himself. It does help when he suddenly shoots up what feels like an entire foot one summer and has at least a little more presence because of his height. Between that and Brian’s unwavering support, Jae’s confidence is at an all-time high, and it makes all the difference in the world.

It feels like some kind of ridiculous joke, then, when neither of them has a date to senior prom.

“I always thought I’d get a senior prom,” Brian laments, his head hanging off the bed. He’s gotten a guitar of his own by now, but it lies beside him, abandoned in favor of commiserating with Jae. “But here I am.”

“Here we are,” Jae corrects him. “Don’t worry, at least we have the power of friendship and all that.”

Brian groans, rolling around on his back and letting his arms flail a bit. Jae’s sitting on the floor and leaning back against the bed, and he almost takes a flying fist to the face.

“You know you can still go, yeah?” Jae points out.

“No one wants to go to prom alone, do they?” Brian asks pitifully.

“Bro.” Jae gives him an affronted look. “What kinda best friend do you think I am?”

Brian turns to him with wide eyes. “You want to go together still? Even without dates?”

He looks silly like this, hanging upside down off the bed with his bangs still managing to defy gravity, but Jae feels his stomach do a strange, slow flip.

Jae swallows hard and shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, man. What are friends for?”

The grin Brian gives him in return is achingly familiar. The way it makes Jae’s heart race isn’t.

When prom rolls around, they get cheap rented tuxes from the same place, Brian ribbing Jae for how poorly his fits his lanky frame. Instead of the fancy dinner Jae had always had in mind for his senior prom date, he drives through McDonald’s with his best friend. Jae steals some of Brian’s sauce for his nuggets, claiming it’s his tax for driving. He gets a balled-up napkin thrown at his head for that, but Brian’s laugh is so bright that Jae would take a lot worse thrown at him to see it again. Once they get downtown, they get lost three times trying to find the convention center where they’re holding the prom, and when they finally have a parking spot, they have to walk almost two blocks to the actual location.

By all rights, it should be a disaster.

It’s one of the best nights Jae can remember having in his life.

He'd worried about not being able to dance, but it turns out that being in a mass of sweaty gyrating teenagers means no one has to know how to dance. The lights are low, the music is deafening, and Jae is deliriously happy as Brian pulls out some ridiculous robot moves that make Jae laugh so hard he staggers onto the train of some oblivious bystander’s dress. When a slow song comes on, he grabs Brian and does his best attempt at a tango. Their feet are pinched in their dress shoes, but they're too busy making fools of themselves to particularly care.

They start winding down the music and herding the students out somewhere around 1 a.m., but Jae meets Brian’s eyes and sees an immediate understanding there: Of course the night isn't over yet.

They hop in Jae’s battered old station wagon in their rented tuxes, roll the windows down and play music they actually like as they go as fast as Jae is willing to risk. He does his best to keep his eyes on the road, but it’s hard when Brian is in the passenger seat.

Brian doesn’t look entirely real, his face a chiaroscuro of sharp shadows and soft highlights. He looks like a painting, like something that should be in a museum, like art that Jae can touch (if he dares). When he turns to grin at Jae, he looks less like an illusion, but he doesn’t look any less stunning; Jae snaps his eyes back to the road ahead of him, both for the safety of his heart and of his car.

They go to a McDonald’s for the second time in one night — Brian tries to argue that it’s technically a different day since it’s past midnight, but Jae isn’t afraid to admit what kind of man he is — because it’s the only place open except for convenience stores. While they share fries and a milkshake between them, Brian tells Jae about the convenience stores in Seoul that he used to go to.

Jae asks Brian about all the minuscule details about Seoul that he can think of, and in return, Brian gushes, telling Jae about the small things that he misses. It’s not about tourist sites or concerts or fancy restaurants; it’s about the things that Brian remembers in off-hand moments, the cheap street food he used to buy with his friends and the music on the metro. Even though Jae knows Brian is happy here with him, he can almost taste how bittersweet this is for Brian, recalling all these memories.

“We should go to Seoul together,” Jae says abruptly. “I mean, after college, when we have jobs and stuff.”

It’s only after the words have left his lips that Jae realizes the implications of what he’s said and he feels embarrassment start to creep into his cheeks, painfully hot. He’s talking to Brian like their future together is a certainty, like they’re going to be together all the way through college and then some. Hell, a lot of people who are dating don’t even talk to each other like that. God, he’s an idiot —

“Really?” Brian’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. When Jae blinks and focuses on his best friend, Brian’s face is split into a grin as wide as Jae’s ever seen on him. “You’d want to do that with me?”

Jae shrugs. “Yeah, duh. We’re best friends, you bet you’re taking my ass to Seoul someday.” The heat in his face has turned from embarrassment to something gentler, something that makes the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile without permission.

Brian’s chatter redoubles, his words coming fast with excitement while his eyes glitter animatedly. Jae watches and listens gratefully.

Their senior prom should feel like an end, Jae reflects. The end of their final year in high school, the end of adolescence, the end of safety nets and well-trodden paths.

Instead, as he sits there in a Cerritos McDonald’s with a barbeque sauce stain setting into the sleeve of his rented tux, Jae thinks that it feels an awful lot like a beginning.

When it comes to college and they both end up going to the local university, it’s a no-brainer to request to be roommates.

Moving in together feels like a dream, like they’ve gotten away with something. It’s like a sleepover that never has to end, right? Sure, they bicker a little over who gets what side of the room, but in the end, it’s the two of them, and Jae can’t find it in himself to complain when that’s the case.

Jae climbs into his bed once their parents have left, all their clothes hung in the closet and their blank notebooks set out on their desks. “It feels kinda fake, doesn’t it?” he asks.

Brian hums in agreement. “I’m lowkey terrified,” he admits.

Jae doesn’t have to ask why because he feels the same way. “You’ll be fine, though,” he reassures Brian. “Don’t worry.”

Brian laughs, but it sounds a little too nervous to be convincing. “Why do you think that?”

Jae has to hold himself back from gushing. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re hot, you’re talented. Instead, he just says, “Bro, everyone’s gonna love you. Promise.”

“This coming from Cerritos’ top comedian?” Brian says with a raised eyebrow. “I’m flattered.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Jae bows to an imaginary audience. “No autographs, please.” That gets a snort of laughter from Brian, and it makes warm contentedness curl in Jae’s belly. “Seriously, though, you’re gonna be more popular than me. I guarantee it.”

Like always, rings in his head, but it’s not bitter, just a fact of life that Jae’s come to terms with. He doesn’t really begrudge Brian that fact, and he never has; it’s not that he's jealous of Brian.

It's that same old fear. The fear that Brian will find move on and Jae will be left behind on his own, the fear of loneliness all over again after all these years of having Brian by his side.

It drives Jae’s next words out of his mouth, dragging them into existence even though he should probably know better.

“You gotta promise not to forget little old me once you make a million friends, though.” Jae tries to keep his tone light. Maybe if he passes it off as a joke to Brian, he can start to work on believing it's just that himself.

“Of course,” Brian says immediately, eyes wide. Jae is painfully reminded of the earnest boy he met years ago and feels a little stupid for doubting. “I didn’t ask you to be my roommate just so I could ditch you.”

“I — Yeah,” Jae says sheepishly. “I guess that would be kinda dumb, huh?”

“You said it, not me,” Brian replies with a smile.

“Wow,” Jae says, feigning offense and dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “I give you years of companionship and support and in return, I get this. The ingratitude.”

“Hey, I’ve stuck with you for just as many years,” Brian says. “If I’ve made it this far, you’re not getting rid of me now.”

As casual as the words are, they reassure Jae more than if Brian had made a long, heartfelt confession. This feels right for them. It’s their own brand of sincerity. It’s easy for Jae to toss back a “damn, and here I was planning to make a break for it,” and then for Brian to throw a pillow in return.

And just like that, they settle back into their easy rhythm, the gentle push-and-pull they’ve built up over the years. It’s as easy as breathing, Jae thinks, and maybe that’s really what defines them. Maybe that’s why all of Jae’s worries and fears seem to glance off their friendship without leaving a scar.

You don’t doubt that your lungs will keep working or that your heart will keep beating, Jae thinks. There’s no reason to overcomplicate things.

There’s no reason for Jae to doubt Brian.

College is good. Weird, but good.

People generally seem to care less about things that don't actually affect them — things like Jae’s allergies and his loud laugh and his need to turn almost everything into a joke. Instead of the suffocating claustrophobia of being in the same school with the same people year after year after year, college is fresh and new. People who don't have the same interests as Jae don't care, and the people who do have the same interests care as much as he does. Jae doesn't have to worry about holding back or trying to be someone he's not. For the first time, he can go out and be himself and be met with people grinning at him and nodding their heads and actually listening to him. It's a weird kind of rush and Jae can't get enough.

That's a lot of words to say that Jae finally finds friends other than Brian.

Even caught up in the exhilaration of exploration, there's a nagging worry in the back of Jae's mind. It's that same fear of loneliness, but it doesn't make any sense because he has so many friends now. He sees for himself that he can make friends, that people like him, that he's not going to be alone.

So why is he still so afraid?

One of the friends Jae ends up making is in his music theory class. His name is Wonpil.

Wonpil keeps in with the weird theme of college, if you ask Jae. He doesn’t always get Wonpil’s sense of humor, and no grown-ass man should be that comfortable with being that cute. It’s ridiculous. It makes Jae want to ask Wonpil on a date, because if friends can happen in college, then decent boyfriends can probably happen too, right?

The problem is that, despite all his cuteness and his sweetness and the way he seems to overflow with love and affection, Wonpil doesn’t really seem to do romance. At least, not the kind of romance Jae is accustomed to hearing about.

It takes Jae a while to notice. When he does, though, it’s almost impossible to ignore. Even though Wonpil is constantly composing songs for his major, even when they’re love songs, they’re never about finding the one. He never writes about the world bursting into colors or knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’ll spend the rest of his life with someone.

Actually, the song he’s written that sticks out to Jae the most is one full of uncertainty, but it still seems...happy? Content, in a way.

Wonpil is definitely a weird guy.

Time passes and their friend groups grow, but instead of growing apart like Jae had feared, they grow together. With Wonpil comes Jinyoung, who constantly has a book in his hand and a smirk on his face. He communicates in metaphors and sarcasm and Jae thinks that if he didn’t like him so much, he’d definitely hate him.

Unfortunately for Jae, he does like Jinyoung. He thinks they've scared at least some of the regulars at the main library on campus with their barbed bickering, but it's a nice change of pace from the softness that defines Jae’s relationship with Brian. At least Wonpil is almost always around to make sure their arguing never turns into anything too serious. It's a good balance, Jae has to admit. He wonders if this is how having an actual friend group instead of just one friend always works or if he's just gotten lucky.

He feels pretty damn lucky.

By their sophomore year, there’s Jaebum, who Brian gushes about when he and Jae get tipsy in their room off cheap, room-temperature beer, but who’s clearly painfully smitten with Jinyoung. When Jinyoung mentions offhandedly that he and Jaebum are soulmates, Jae’s first thought is to worry about Brian and Wonpil. He and Brian share a pint of ice cream from the corner store and Brian laments the fact that his first gay crush is on someone so painfully taken, and Jae nods along sympathetically because if anyone is going to understand gay angst, it’s him. But Brian picks up and moves on, and it feels like Jae’s barely even blinked before Brian and Jaebum have returned to their easy camaraderie.

Wonpil, on the other hand, doesn’t even seem to be fazed by the revelation that Jinyoung and Jaebum belong to each other. He sticks with them, and Jinyoung and Jaebum can be seen with him just as often as they can be seen with each other. Jae doesn't really get how the three of them strike a balance when Jinyoung has the two guys eating out of the palm of his hand, but they seem to still work together as three. Jae thinks they might just be better at handling their emotions than the rest of the world.

Through it all, though, Brian is constant.

It doesn't matter how many people they meet — Sungjin and Dowoon and Youngjae and Jackson and another Youngjae for good measure — at the end of the day, Jae and Brian come home to their shared space and fall together. Whether it's their cramped freshman year dorm room lined with cinderblock walls or the apartment they get the next year just off campus with no air conditioning, Jae and Brian, Brian and Jae — that's what home is.

It happens at the beginning of Thanksgiving break when they're tossing their duffel bags into the trunk of Jae’s car, still the same shitty station wagon they'd taken to prom. It's nothing new or special, just a routine so comfortable it's practically domestic.

Jae thinks in hindsight that's probably what does him in.

Later, he tries to pin down the exact moment that crystallizes it all into a clear realization. He always comes up short. The only thing his mind provides is Brian in the midday sun bundled up in one of Jae’s raggedy old sweaters with their high school mascot emblazoned across the front; Brian smiling at him, not the huge giddy grin that Jae sees sometimes, but something smaller and gentler that Jae wants to keep all to himself; Brian leaning up against the car that’s seen them through years of late-night snack runs and ill-advised day trips.

It’s an amalgamation of years together, really, and it hits Jae in a split second.

I’d like to kiss Brian.

It pops into his head without fanfare, as if it’s something simple instead of something life-changing. Maybe it’s both. Either way, it hits Jae, then hits him again and again as he turns it over in his brain, trying to figure out where it came from, what the implications of it are. It kind of feels like a fact that’s been waiting to be acknowledged, like it’s been sitting there all along.

I’d like to kiss Brian, Jae thinks as they get into the car and he starts it up. I’d really, really, really like to kiss Brian.

Well, then.

That seems like a problem for future Jae.

Current Jae has his best friend in the passenger seat of his car on their way home, belting along to some Queen song and waggling his brows at Jae to try to get him to join in. Current Jae is grateful for what he has instead of getting fixated on what he wants.

Yeah, Jae thinks. It’s simpler this way.

Working on an English project with Jinyoung is probably the lowest level of hell they don’t tell you about, Jae thinks.

“You know, it’s all bullshit,” Jinyoung says without warning. His usually mellow voice is surprisingly sharp, and Jae looks up at him in surprise.

“Huh?” Jae has to admit he hasn’t been listening as well as he could’ve, but Jinyoung’s words seem pretty out of the blue to him anyway.

“The soulmate thing,” Jinyoung clarifies.

“Aren’t you and Jaebum soulmates?” Jae asks, wondering if he’s missed something.

Jinyoung waves his hand. “Of course. But that doesn’t mean it’s not all bullshit.”

“Okay,” Jae says carefully. Brian had warned him of this; despite Jinyoung’s other redeeming qualities, at the end of the day he’s still a literature major, and he acts like it.

“We’re dating Wonpil,” Jinyoung says. His tone is so matter-of-fact that Jae almost does a physical double take like some sort of cartoon character.

“You’re — Both of you?” Jae asks incredulously. He doesn’t want to be jealous, but he thinks it’s a little unfair that someone as emotionally stunted as Jaebum can have not one, but two boyfriends while Jae has been in a dry spell so long he thinks his right hand might fall off (and it has nothing to do with playing guitar).

Jinyoung shrugs. “Like I said, the soulmates thing is bullshit.”

“Wonpil knows you and Jaebum are — ”

“Of course,” Jinyoung says before Jae can even finish. “We’re not stupid. He deserves to know.”

“Right.” Jae nods awkwardly. “Is it a long-term thing? I mean, Wonpil’s soulmate has gotta exist out there somewhere, right?”

Jinyoung turns to look at him, and suddenly Jae wonders if he’s made a mistake thinking that Jaebum is the scarier one. “In theory,” Jinyoung says. “But theory isn’t really something to live your whole life based on.”

Jae wants to say something about how he feels like he’s in his freshman year philosophy course, but decides to indulge Jinyoung by saying, “What do you mean?”

Jinyoung turns to face Jae fully and Jae gets the feeling he’s signed himself up for a more in-depth discussion than he’d anticipated. “Put yourself in Wonpil’s shoes,” Jinyoung says.

“His tiny, tiny shoes.” Judging by Jinyoung’s expression, he isn’t impressed by Jae’s joke. “Never mind. Carry on.”

“So as far as Wonpil’s concerned, he has two options, right?” Jinyoung holds out one hand. “His first option is Jaebum and me. Two people who love him, who tell him that we love him on a daily basis. A relationship he can feel secure in, and if he ever doesn’t feel secure, he can ask us because we’re right here. He knows us. We’re a certainty.”

Jinyoung holds out his other hand. “His second option is his soulmate. Obviously, it’s not either of us. We say ‘I love you’ to each other plenty, we would’ve known months ago if we were. So his soulmate is someone out there that he doesn’t know yet. He can’t talk to them, he can’t ask them for reassurance. He doesn’t even know if they’re still alive or if they’re waiting for him. The soulmate is an uncertainty.” He leans forward and fixes Jae with a piercing look. “So, what do you pick?”

Jae swallows hard, trying to ignore how close Jinyoung’s words hit to home. “Couldn’t he — I don’t know, just date you guys but like, if his soulmate comes along he can go be with them?”

Jinyoung snorts and shakes his head disbelievingly. “Jae, I mean this with all due respect, but have you ever been in a real relationship before?” Jae sputters, but before he can answer, Jinyoung clarifies, “And when I say a real relationship, I mean not just some short-term high school thing just so you could say you were dating someone.”

Jae doesn’t think he likes talking to Jinyoung very much at all anymore. He's much more fun when they're just talking about lyrics or poetry or literally anything but this.

“I guess no, by your standards,” Jae says stiffly.

“You don’t have a relationship by waiting around for something better to come along,” Jinyoung explains. “It’s about commitment. It’s about putting faith in someone, taking a leap and trusting them to catch you.”

“Mm,” Jae hums thoughtfully. “Sounds like stress I don’t need.”

Jinyoung shrugs. “It’s okay that you’re not ready for an adult relationship, Jae.”

“Wow.” Jae leans back in his chair. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“Thank you,” Jinyoung says, turning back to his book.

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

Jinyoung ignores him and Jae throws up his hands in exasperation.

Sometimes he doesn’t understand why he has the friends he does.

Jinyoung’s words stick with him, though, and not just because he’s still sore about Jinyoung being a fucking ass. Taking a leap, Jinyoung had said. He made it sound so easy.

When Jae’s back in his dorm that night, it’s still circling through his mind like a broken record skipping back again and again and again, jagged and uncomfortable and jumbling all of his other thoughts up in the process. He’s so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even hear the key in the lock before Brian opens the door and comes in, throwing his bag into his chair, climbing into his bed, and flopping on his back with a groan.

Jae looks up at Brian from his own desk. With the way their beds are lofted up high, making space for their desks below, all he can see of Brian is the tip of his nose and his hand dangling over the side of the bed. “You good, bro?”

Brian groans again before turning over on his front so that his chin rests on the edge of the bedframe facing Jae. “Had to mediate another fight between Jaebum and some guy named Mark,” he explains.

Jae makes a noise of sympathy. “I had a shitty conversation with Jinyoung. I say we just ditch the pair of them and run.”

Brian giggles, and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners feels like a prize Jae’s won. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s just never make friends with other people again.”

“Deal,” Jae agrees fervently. “Just you and me, bro. That’s all we need. Fuck other people, am I right?”

“You’re so right,” Brian says with a nod. “Actually, let’s just never leave this room. Oh, wait.” He frowns. “Money is a thing adults have to worry about.”

“Nah, man, we got this,” Jae reassures him. “Your genius songwriting? My beautiful voice and dashing good looks? We’ll be like YouTube stars or something. Or maybe we can sell songs to people — ”

“I’m pretty sure we have to leave our room to do that,” Brian points out.

“We’ll come up a with a way so we don’t have to,” Jae says, full of brash confidence. “And then we’ll patent the idea and everyone will come to us to learn our ways like, ‘Wow, y’all are so cool, we wanna be just like you — ’”

Brian is laughing at him, laughing so hard that Jae worries he might fall out of his bunk, but the warmth that spreads through Jae’s chest at the sound makes it impossible for him to stop.

“You’re ridiculous,” Brian wheezes. “That doesn’t even make sense — ”

“Sure it does,” Jae replies. “We’ll be rolling in cash, man, just you wait.”

“Oh, really?” Brian is grinning at him and Jae realizes he’s mirroring Brian’s expression right back at him. “All right, I trust you, then.”

All of a sudden, Jae’s brain decides to remember Jinyoung’s words. Taking a leap and trusting them to catch you echoes through his mind, and Jae can feel the smile melt off his face.

Before he can school his features back into something that suits the situation, Brian’s smile fades as well. “You okay, Jae?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just — ” Jae gives his head a quick shake. “Thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” There’s a rustle of blankets as Brian rolls onto his back, and Jae is grateful as he realizes it’s just what he’d needed. Trust Brian to know Jae needs freedom from eyes on him to put his thoughts into words before Jae realizes it himself.

“I know we were joking and stuff,” Jae starts, “But we’re...good, right? Like you and me. We’re good together.”

“You’re my best friend,” Brian says, and even though he’s on the other side of the room, Jae swears he can feel the warmth in his voice. “We’re the best.”

Emotion rises in Jae’s throat alarmingly quickly and he swallows it down nervously. “Yeah. We’re — ” An idea pops into his mind. A pretty stupid idea, but Jae’s never really claimed to be a genius. “Just hold on for a second, don’t move.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Brian says, smile evident in his voice. “You better not throw anything at me that I’m gonna need to wash out of my sheets, though. I’m sleeping as soon as we’re done talking and there’s no way I’m taking the time to do laundry because of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jae says, trying to sound casual even when he’s feeling anything but as he stands from his chair and walks over to Brian’s side of the room.

Jae lives through his senses. He lives through actions, through doing.

He doesn’t see why this should be any different.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers as he pulls Brian’s desk chair out far enough that he won’t hit his head on the bottom of the bed if he stands on it. When he steps up on it, it gives him enough height that he’s right next to where Brian is lying, eyes closed just like Jae asked.

“You’re acting weird, Jae,” Brian says, face turned slightly toward him.

“Shut up,” Jae responds automatically.

“Make me,” Brian replies.

Jae thinks that would be the perfect opening — just like something out of a movie, really. Make me, and then the kiss, the perfect response. The perfect leap.

He finds himself asking instead, “You’re sure we’re good, right? Like, nothing’s gonna change that.”

“If you’re about to tell me we have to go bury a body, I might have some second thoughts, actually.”

Normally, Jae would laugh at that. Brian makes him laugh, makes him think, makes him better in all the ways he can think of. But right now, he can’t really think of anything at all, frozen at the precipice in the moment before the leap.

“Jae?” Brian asks, voice surprisingly small. It reminds Jae of sleepovers years ago. Have they really been together so long? “Is something wrong?”

“I hope not,” Jae breathes, and he leans in and kisses his best friend.

With their lips this close (touching, he thinks to himself a little hysterically, their lips are touching because they’re kissing), he can feel how Brian inhales sharply, his whole body stiffening before he melts back into the mattress. Jae almost jumps out of his skin when he feels something on the nape of his neck, but it’s just Brian’s hand cupping the back of his head and holding him close so he can’t pull back.

Jae doesn’t think he could pull away from Brian even if he wanted to.

Brian pulls back just enough to whisper, “Jae?”

“Yeah?” Jae manages.

“We’re definitely good. Especially if you keep doing that.”

“Yeah, I — Yeah, okay.”

“And Jae?”

“Yeah?”

“You should probably just take the ladder up to my bed instead of standing on the chair.”

“They don’t call you a genius for nothing, Mr. Kang.”

Brian’s smile is practically blinding. I’m kissing the sun, Jae thinks hazily as he clambers up the ladder and into Brian’s bed. In such a small bed, it seems like there are far more elbows and knees than should be possible between only two people, but it’s all worth it when Jae’s lying on his back, Brian sprawled half on top of him, and their lips are moving together perfectly, warm and sweet.

Jae lets his hand rest on the curve of Brian’s waist, reveling in how soft he is. If his hand wanders down further, he can feel the gentle swell of his hip, and Jae strokes up and down Brian’s side slowly. He feels so nice, so good to hold that it makes Jae a little lightheaded.

Brian buries his face in Jae’s neck and whines, his voice going adorably high-pitched. “That tickles, stop that.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t doing it on purpose,” Jae says before digging his fingers viciously into Brian’s side, grinning at the yelp he gets in response. “Now I’m doing it on purpose, though.”

“Jae Park, I hate you,” Brian howls, kicking desperately in Jae’s grasp. “I’m filing for a divorce and I’m taking the guitars with me, get your hands off me — ”

Jae laughs so hard his sides ache, even when Brian threatens him with kicking him onto the floor, even when Brian’s elbow catches him in the ribs and he can feel where a bruise will bloom tomorrow morning, even when Brian pretends to withhold kisses for about twenty seconds. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this blissfully happy in his life.

He can’t imagine wanting anything more.

Everything is stupidly perfect.

Jae and Brian take to domesticity like ducks to water, their daily routines now peppered with kisses or light touches. The others like to tease them — Jaebum likes clearing his throat loudly and telling them to get a room, Jinyoung likes making pointed little remarks about Jae limping (from an ultimate frisbee injury, which they all know, but Jinyoung is Jinyoung and will never give up being an ass), and Wonpil gives Jae knowing little smiles whenever he catches him staring at Brian with what must be a dopily happy look on his face.

Despite how much their friends like to point it out, things are hardly different, Jae thinks. All the hard work was done before their first kiss. Years of friendship already laid the foundation, taught them how to fight and how to apologize, how to meet each other halfway, how to read between the lines. It’s not that it’s always easy, but Jae does always believe that they’ll be okay.

Of course, in typical Jae fashion, he then has to go and do something a little bit stupid.

The first close call comes at an embarrassing time.

Jae wishes he could say it was over a candlelit dinner or maybe after Brian showed him a song he’d been working on. Even just plain old waking up in the morning and seeing each other’s sleep swollen faces and not being able to hold the words back.

Instead it happens when Jae is half-awake and Brian’s hand is down his shorts.

Despite what it might sound like, it’s still an almost painfully intimate moment. Jae feels like he’s floating, tethered only by Brian’s deft hand and the gentle puff of his breath against Jae’s neck as he murmurs sweet nothings to him. The blankets make it warm, bordering on too hot, but Jae can’t bring himself to change a single thing.

He’s half-whispering, half-groaning an unending string of nonsense, curses and pleas and (more than anything else) Brian’s name, when it trips over the tip of his tongue, almost escaping.

“God, Bri, I lo — ”

Brian’s hand freezes in the same second the words do on Jae’s lips. Jae almost chokes from how sharply he inhales, as if he can take the beginning of the sentence back into his body and make it so it never happened.

There’s a moment of silence, painfully tense. Jae thinks it would be comical, Brian’s hand around his dick while they both look like they’ve been told they’re the father. It would be comical, except Jae feels like he can’t really breathe and Brian looks about the same.

Jae’s hard-on very quickly becomes a non-issue. Accidental almost-confessions tend to do that to a guy.

Brian settles against him, settling his hand on Jae’s stomach instead. Over his shirt, Jae notices. He tries not to read into it.

“Do you?” Brian eventually asks. His voice is quiet, but Jae swears he can feel the words reverberate through him, feeling unbearably large as they loom over him.

Jae debates playing dumb for a second, but Brian doesn’t deserve that. “Yeah. I do.”

Brian nods and takes a deep breath before saying, “I do too. I mean, feel like that. About you.”

Jae’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest. He’s hit by the urge to roll over and kiss Brian and whisper the words into his lips anyway, damn the consequences — but then the reality of the consequences come on the heels of that thought. The very real possibility that they could realize they’re not meant for each other, that all this was just a temporary bubble of happiness ready to burst if prodded.

“I’m scared,” Brian whispers, so quiet that even at this distance Jae can barely pick it up.

“Me too,” Jae admits.

“What if — ”

“I don’t know,” Jae says quickly before Brian can put his fear into words. “I — I don’t really want to think about it right now.”

Brian’s hand rubs circles on Jae’s belly, the motion slow and soothing. “I’m really happy with how things are,” he says. “I’m happy like this.”

“Me too,” Jae says, relieved. “Nothing has to change, right?”

Brian shakes his head. “This is good. We’re good.”

“Yeah,” Jae says. “We are.”

They fall back into normalcy, and it is normal. Blissfully, peacefully normal. The problem with this is that Jae realizes how often he wants to say it when Brian is just washing the dishes or playing guitar or hovering over a textbook. It feels like the words have settled at the base of Jae’s throat, ready to leap to his lips at a moment’s notice. It’s an exercise in self-control with no break, no foreseeable end to it.

Well, there is an end to it. Jae just doesn’t know if they’re ready.

Jae doesn’t know if he can stand the risk of giving up what he has.

Jae gets a message from Jinyoung that tells him in no uncertain terms that he is expected at Jinyoung and Jaebum’s apartment by the end of the day. Jae doesn’t feel like getting on Jinyoung’s bad side — anyone who’s been there would understand — so he hauls his ass across campus to knock wearily on their door.

Jinyoung grabs him by the arm, sits him at their kitchen table, and plunks a mug of tea in front of him. “Talk to me.”

“You should just talk to him,” Jaebum says from where he’s leaning against the counter. “Resistance is futile.”

“Thanks for all the help,” Jae says drily. “I feel like I’ve been kidnapped by the mob.”

Jinyoung snorts. “If I was in the mob, I wouldn’t have asked you so nicely.”

“This was nice?” Jae mutters.

“It really was,” Jaebum says. “You should’ve seen what he was thinking about doing before I made him tone it down.”

Jae swallows hard. “Okay, then. What do you even want me to talk about?”

“You keep looking at Brian like a lovesick puppy,” Jinyoung says matter-of-factly. “And not in the cute ‘look at the adorable boyfriends’ way, in the ‘someone please take pity on that poor thing’ way. You look like you’re crushing on him all over again, but you’re already dating him. You’re practically married. So spill. What’s going on?”

“I...almost said it to him,” Jae says reluctantly. It feels like a weirdly personal thing to be telling his friends, especially ones who’ve already found their soulmates in each other. “A little while ago. And it kind of scared the shit out of both of us.”

“Almost said what?” Jaebum asks.

Jinyoung stares at Jae for a second before saying disbelievingly, “You’re still caught up on the soulmate thing?”

“Well, yeah,” Jae says defensively. “Excuse me for wanting to keep dating my boyfriend.”

Jinyoung somehow manages to make taking a deep breath sound condescending. Jae can hear Jaebum say, “Oh, god, here we go.”

“I can’t believe we had that whole conversation about the soulmate thing being bullshit and you’re still acting like this,” Jinyoung says, sounding personally offended. “I imparted all that wisdom on you, and here you are, throwing it in my face — ”

Jae splutters. “What — That doesn’t even make sense — ” He gestures at Jaebum. “And is your actual soulmate okay with all this? Like, do you not even mind?”

Jaebum blinks at him. “Not...really? No.”

“How?” Jae asks. “How do you not care that your soulmate doesn’t even believe in the thing that’s like, the basis of your entire relationship?”

“Because it’s not,” Jinyoung says. “You’re so — Everyone just — ” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Jaebum walks across the kitchen and wraps an arm around Jinyoung’s shoulder. “Deep breaths, babe.”

“Shut up, Jaebum,” Jinyoung mutters, but he tilts his head to rest against Jaebum’s anyway, closing his eyes and nuzzling into him a little.

Jae coughs. “Should I leave?”

“Jae Park, don’t you even think of leaving that seat,” Jinyoung says without opening his eyes. He straightens up, and when he speaks again, it’s with the same collected tone as their last conversation about soulmates. “I’m not with Jaebum because he’s my soulmate. I’m with Jaebum because I like being around him. I like the person I am when I’m with him. He makes me smile and laugh and try to be better every day.” He pauses before he adds, “Also, he’s hot as hell and fucks like a dream.”

Jae tries not to visibly gag. “That’s...cool.”

“Do you get what I’m saying?” Jinyoung asks impatiently, ignoring how Jaebum’s arm around his shoulder seems less comforting now and more smugly possessive.

“Sorry,” Jae says sarcastically. “I got stuck on the fact that Jaebum fucks at all and it wiped everything else you said out of my brain.”

Jaebum snorts and Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “Whether or not you’re soulmates isn’t the be-all and end-all of your relationship. You don’t become friends with people because of some predestined design that says suddenly you realize you’ve been wearing pink underwear for years without knowing, right? Why the hell should romantic relationships be any different?”

“Because — ” Jae struggles for a response. Because of all the stories I was told when I was younger, because of all the love songs I heard, because of all the happy soulmates I saw and wanted to be. “It’s just — It’s different.”

“How, though?” Jinyoung demands. “Beyond wanting to touch each other’s dicks. And that’s not an inherently romantic thing, but I think we’ll save that for another conversation. I don’t think you can handle too many revelations at once.”

“Fuck you,” Jae says, but there’s not really any feeling behind it. “It’s just...supposed to be different, right?”

Jinyoung shrugs. “Were things really all that different when you went from best friends to boyfriends?”

“Not...really, I guess,” Jae admits.

“You two are together because you’re good together,” Jinyoung says. “It has nothing to do with a cosmic determination that you belong in a relationship. It’s stupid, anyway, that you have to say three specific words for it to count.”

“I don’t think so,” Jae says stubbornly. “What’s wrong with telling the person you’re with that you love them?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Jinyoung replies. “But think about it. You’ve told Brian you loved him before.”

Jae stares at him. “First of all, I’m pretty damn sure I haven’t. Second of all, even if I had, why would you be the one to know?”

“I’m not talking about the three words,” Jinyoung says. “I’m talking about all the other ways you say it. I’ve seen you. When he tells you he wants two sugars in his coffee and you give him three instead, when you helped him save up for that new guitar, every time you so much as look at him, Jae. It has nothing to do with the words.”

Jae swallows hard. “Why are you calling me out like this?”

“It's what he does,” Jaebum offers. “You should try living with him.”

“I'll pass,” Jae says weakly.

“But do you get what I'm saying?” Jinyoung presses.

Jae almost automatically says yes just to get Jinyoung off his back, but he stops to think about it. When it comes to his relationship with Brian, he doesn’t want to just give flippant answers. He doesn’t want to keep taking the easy way out.

He thinks about Wonpil, content with two people who by all rights shouldn’t have room in their hearts for him. He thinks of the way that no matter how many people have come into his life, Brian has always been his number one priority, the truest constant in Jae’s life. He thinks about his best-laid plans in life and how even when they fell through, Brian has been there to pick him up and dust him off. He thinks about how his plans nowadays always have Brian in them anyway.

In hindsight, it’s stupidly simple.

“I — Yeah,” Jae says finally. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Jae makes a phone call.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Jae baby?”

“I think — I think I want to be with Brian. For a long time.”

“Well, it’s about time you caught up with the rest of us.”

“I’m — ”

“Scared? Of course you are, baby.”

“What if — ”

“Jae Park. You know what I’m going to say.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“You understand?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Okay. Go get him.”

Jae sits Brian down on his bed for the conversation.

“So I talked to Jinyoung,” he starts.

“Oh, that’s why you’ve been so spacey and jumpy,” Brian replies. “What’d he do to turn your brain into mush this time?”

“We talked about soulmates and relationships and stuff,” Jae says, and he sees Brian’s entire body stiffen. “Wait, just...let me talk for a minute.” He takes a deep breath. This can’t be scarier than kissing Brian for the first time, can it? Even if his palms are sweating and his throat is dry, he knows he’s been through worse.

So he presses on.

“Brian, I really, really care about you. Like more than I think I’ve cared about anyone who’s not actually related to me. And I think I want to be with you for...a long time, yeah?” He sees Brian open his mouth, but he keeps going. “And I know I almost said that — that thing the other day, and I know it kind of scared the shit out of both of us, but — I don’t know, babe, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Brian blinks. “Well, the worst that could happen is we aren’t soulmates. That’s kind of...bad, you know.”

“Okay, but why?” Jae asks.

Brian groans. “You really did talk to Jinyoung, didn’t you?”

“I warned you,” Jae says. “Okay, but listen. Not to be ridiculously gross or over the top or anything, but I — I mean it when I say I want to be with you. I mean, even if we’re not soulmates. Brian, you’re — fuck, you’re the one. You’re it. Even if you’re not my soulmate, even if my soulmate shows up in a damn Cadillac and throws a million dollars at my feet and asks me to ride away with him into the fuckin’ sunset, you’re still it for me, yeah?”

Jae runs out of steam and realizes he probably sounds a little crazy with the way his sentences are running on and the pitch of his voice has risen. He clears his throat. “And if you don’t — If the soulmate thing is a make-or-break kind of thing for you, that’s okay too.” The words feel like they drag against the inside of his throat, but he forces them out anyway. “I just want you to know that...no matter what, I’m here. And I’ll be here. As long as you want me to be.”

Brian’s head has fallen to stare at his hands folded in his lap, his face hidden by his bangs. For a few painful seconds, he’s silent and hidden from Jae, and Jae wonders if he’s made a terrible, terrible mistake.

“You,” Brian starts, his voice thick, “are so…much, Jae Park.”

Jae blinks, but he doesn’t even have time to open his mouth before Brian shoves his face against Jae’s shoulder, effectively hiding his face and headbutting him at the same time. When Brian lifts his head to look Jae in the eye, Jae can see tears in Brian’s eyes. He panics a little, starting to babble oh gods and I’m sorrys.

“What do you mean, ‘as long as I want you?’” Brian says, cutting Jae off. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He exhales shakily. “I — I thought the soulmate thing was important to you,” he continues quietly. “Especially when you almost said it but stopped, I thought — I don’t know what I thought, I guess. I was just scared.”

“It was important to me,” Jae says, feeling a weight that’s been bearing down on him for months, maybe even years, finally lift. “But you’re more important.” There’s a beat of silence and then he grimaces. “That was — Jesus, that was some next-level romance novel bullshit, I’m so sorry.”

Brian giggles, the sound a little congested from the tears he didn’t shed, but still bright and sweet all the same. “It’s okay,” he says. “I already told you I’d stick with you even if we’re not soulmates. You can’t drive me off with your secret romantic tendencies.”

Jae raises his eyebrows. “You promise?” he asks teasingly, but there’s a more serious undercurrent to it. You really, truly promise?

Brian touches their foreheads together, their noses brushing. “I promise.”

It doesn’t take any more than that for Jae to know that Brian understands.

“On three, right?” Jae says.

Brian bites his lip, visibly nervous. “Do you want to count or should I?”

“Both of us?”

Brian nods. “Okay.”

Three.

Two.

One.

Jae doesn’t hear the words. He feels his lips move, sees Brian’s mirroring his own, but the buzzing of his own thoughts makes the rest of the world blissfully silent as they take the leap together, hand-in-hand.

He doesn’t need to hear, though, when the colors flood in.

They stare at each other, frozen in the same position even as everything changes around them — or maybe it doesn’t, really. After all, the colors were always there. They were just waiting to be seen.

Brian brushes Jae’s overgrown bangs out of his eyes. It knocks his glasses out of place, but Brian adjusts them for him before Jae can reach up to do it himself. “Jae?” he says quietly.

“Yeah?” Jae asks, heart pounding so hard he swears it’s making his entire body shake. At the very least, he can hear it in the quiver of his voice, no matter how hard he tries to keep it steady.

“I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful,” Brian says in that stupidly earnest way he has, the one that Jae’s heard since they were thirteen years old. “But I gotta say, color suits you really, really well.”

Warmth swells in Jae’s chest, rising in his throat and coming out as a strangled wheeze of a laugh. Not quite how he’d always pictured this moment going, but when Brian grins at him, Jae can’t bring himself to mind.

“You’re so cheesy,” Jae groans, slapping Brian’s arm. “You’re so fuckin’ gross, dude — ”

“But you love me anyway,” Brian says gleefully, wrapping his arms around Jae so he can’t go anywhere (as if he’d want to go anywhere, anyway.) “You know how I know? Because we’re soulmaaates.” He sings the last word, drawing it out long and loud enough that Jae thinks they might get a noise complaint from the neighbors.

Hearing that word from Brian, knowing it’s about him, makes the smile on Jae’s face spread so wide he thinks he might just burst open. He can’t stop grinning, can’t stop laughing even as Brian kisses him, their teeth clicking together because Brian can’t stop smiling either.

Everything about it is sloppy and messy and overwhelming, and it isn’t just because of the colors painting everything now. He can see how Brian’s cheeks blush pink when Jae’s fingers start to play with the hem of his shirt, so he pulls it off to see how far down it goes. He kisses down Brian’s flushed skin, murmuring I love you, I love you, I love you and pressing it in with his lips as if to brand them there. The words spill out of his mouth like a prayer, and Brian whispers them back to him, and even though he says it every day in different ways, there’s something about this in particular that makes Jae feel whole.

Afterwards, they stay cuddled together in bed, Jae’s tiny twin mattress keeping them tangled together lest they fall off in the middle of the night. The sun’s setting, and as the moon rises instead, the color is largely washed out of the room, leaving Jae surrounded by familiar black and white.

He doesn’t really mind, though. He looks down at Brian, already fast asleep in his arms and snoring quietly. In fact, now that it’s happened, Jae realizes that the color itself, as beautiful as it is, isn’t worth a fraction as much to him as Brian is. If he had to, he’d gladly give back this new sight to keep Brian forever.

But he doesn’t have to.

Not for the first time in his life, Jae thinks he’s pretty damn lucky. Lucky to have met Brian, lucky to have the friends he does, lucky that his soulmate is his best friend.

He’d always thought that when he first got to see colors that he’d be loathe to close his eyes again. Instead, he finds himself easily giving into the pull of sleep, just like Brian did.

There are more important things, he reflects as he closes his eyes and starts to drift off.

And he knows that, come morning, the most important one will still be there, right next to him.