Archive of Our Own

It doesn’t take long for Jeongguk to take his first steps out the door.

At least, it doesn’t feel like it’s been long. Jeongguk has never been one to mope.

(The reality is, it’s been a long six months of agonizing over every last detail, wondering what he could have possibly done wrong to deserve this fate.)

Some days are easier than others, like when Jeongguk busies himself by claiming an indisputable win in a round of Overwatch, or when he fills his day with cat naps. The other days, he lazes around, and gets caught in a memory. Those days are the hardest, for Jeongguk had never been the best at handling his deepest emotions. On days like that, he stays under the covers.

Of course, he hadn’t been counting the trips to the store, or the times that Yoongi had dragged him out for coffee. He's thankful for it nonetheless, but he takes his own pace when it comes to moving on.

Moving on. Words that Jeongguk couldn't bear to say out loud. In his head they leave no pain, but if he were to say them out loud, then they would be his reality.

He takes things one step at a time.

Even now, his shoes feel heavy on concrete sidewalks, but every step is easier than the last. Somehow, it’s soothing. Jeongguk falls into the gentle rhythm of left, right, left, right, and cleanses his mind with a deep breath. There’s a gentle breeze in the dimness of the evening skies, ruffling at his hair and seemingly nudging him in the direction of the small corner pub. In all honesty, he’d forgotten the place even existed, with its dusk-tinted windows and gaudy western woodwork. He had no real plans for the night, and if he were to ignore the outward appearance of the place, he figures a night alone wouldn’t be so bad.

It’d been a while since he’d last sat down for a drink. Lately, coffee hadn’t been enough to keep his mind operating in the right ways. So in a spur of the moment decision, he figured fuck it, and reached for the door.

The bells clang obnoxiously above the doorframe, and Jeongguk would be ashamed to admit that his immediate thought was the infamous mountain top scene of Your Name (because maybe he’d watched that film one too many times in his days of sulking). With burning ears, he makes his way to the bar, sitting himself in the furthest corner.

Jeongguk had never been much of a drinker, but today’s courage called for a celebration. It takes only a few scattered thoughts before a glass slides over to him, and he thanks the bartender with a little nod.

He swirls the ice around in the little glass, watching the bubbles of the club soda struggle under surface tension before finally popping. In a way, he wishes he could do the same.

Jeongguk scoffs. Had he really been down in the dumps for so long? Everything felt funny to him. Even the change of the seasons, the cold air teasing him for being alone. It wasn’t that he was a baby, or overly depressed by his tragic love life. He was upset, naturally. How else would one feel after being left at the altar? Just thinking about it made him angry, fist clenching as he recalls all of their little fights. The empty aisle. But he was over it.

He was definitely over it.

They’d met under similar circumstances, both alone and lost in a strange place. It was a windy day in Kyoto, as it had been the past week. Jeongguk was finishing up the shoot to a summer film project, and he said he’d been visiting a friend. They were working on music together, a couple of big shot producers to-be spending a weekend abroad. Jeongguk wasn’t sure he believed it, and he certainly hadn’t been impressed with their flashiness.

Nonetheless, Jeongguk was warm and inviting, offered directions to the man who was clearly lost. Maybe the stranger was trying to show off—or what they may refer to as flirting—but Jeongguk wasn’t having any of it. He’d pointed the man off in the correct direction, and then he was off on his way. And that had been the end of it.

Or so he’d thought.

By some stroke of bad luck, Jeongguk continued to see him everywhere. In the streets, at the convenience store, in the hotel halls. He didn’t think it could get any worse, the man’s boisterous personality even haunting his dreams.

He wasn’t sure at what point the detest turned into yearning. He thinks it may have been the time they’d first held a proper conversation, so quaint after days of loathing. Maybe it was out of pity, but something in the way the man smiled from behind a glass of whiskey and said, “hi, I’m Hoseok,” made Jeongguk’s heart go aflutter.

But that’s not the same Hoseok he’d come to know at the tragic end of their relationship. What had started out as a happy and healthy relationship soon regressed into one of hatred and monstrosity.

The nights grew longer, Jeongguk coming home to a kitchen reeking of whiskey, dishes scattered about and Hoseok passed out on the couch. Somewhere along the line, they’d lost their way. And despite all of their best efforts, things had simply fallen apart. In some ways, Jeongguk is glad that things had finally come to an end, knowing that forcing a toxic relationship just for the sake of being together was not the way to go about things. But on the other hand, he so desperately wishes that the relationship hadn’t gone sour, and they could have worked things out after all. Because what they had, when they had it, was something else.

In any case, Jeongguk is at least glad he wouldn’t be seeing the man any time soon. He felt safe, knowing that he couldn't possibly run into Hoseok. The last thing he'd heard, was that the musician had flown out to LA for some collaborations. It wasn't like he'd purposefully been keeping tabs on his ex-fiancé. But word got around fast.

At least here, in the dim lighting of the bar, Jeongguk could sulk in peace.

And it’s nice, to be out of the apartment, in some (questionably) fresh air. He’s perfectly fine with being alone too. After all, he’d been alone the last half year of his life, after Hoseok had packed up and left.

Maybe, just maybe, Jeongguk starts to think that he’ll be okay.

But then, the bell above the door rings again. Only this time, Jeongguk doesn’t think back to his favorite film. He feels a rock in the pit of his stomach, fight or flight responses kicking in.

“Hyerin-ah! You know what time it is,” a voice calls out from the front. “It’s Suntory time!”

And then Jeongguk’s heart turns to stone all over again.

Just when he thought he’d finally been getting over this whole fiasco, things take a turn for the worse. Because of course Hoseok would show up to the same bar, on the same night, at the same time. It wasn’t as though he wanted to avoid seeing Hoseok for the rest of his life, but Jeongguk certainly wasn’t ready for the confrontation either. He turns to face the wall.

Hoseok slides his way in comfortably, sitting three or so seats down the bar. It’s a good enough distance, though Jeongguk still wishes he was miles away. He can feel eyes on him, but he chooses to ignore it. Ignorance is bliss, right? Besides, Hoseok is quick to strike up conversation with the bartender, seemingly a friend of his anyway. Jeongguk was in the clear.

“I haven’t been in for a while; how are things?” he asks, swirling the ice around in the cup.

The bartender—Hyerin, he recalls—shrugs her shoulders. “Eh, just the usual. I was starting to worry about you. Thought maybe the alcohol poisoning finally took you out.”

Hoseok laughs. It’s that same, bright laugh that Jeongguk had always loved.

“Says you. When’s the last time you didn’t go home and drink until you’re blacked out?”

Hyerin snorts, doesn’t even apologize for just being herself. “I’m betting on your hospitalization first. I bet they’ll have to pump your stomach,” she teases. “And I am not going to chip in for your bills. It’ll be a deserved punishment.”

Hoseok only shakes his head, bringing the rim of the glass to his lips. Jeongguk feels content in observing the scene. At least here, he was safely out of the conversation, and comforted in knowing that Hoseok was doing alright—without me, Jeongguk reminds himself, though he doesn’t want to dwell on it for too long.

“On the real though, everything good? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little worried. Especially you know, with all the moping you do.”

Jeongguk’s ears perk up, though he tries not to make it obvious.

“Moping? Nah,” Hoseok starts, giving a little pause. “Okay, so yeah, I’m still hung up on everything but I am totally fine. Totally.”

“I think the fact that you felt the need to try and justify yourself just now, on top of the fact that you come here every other night practically sobbing over your ex says a lot,” the girl says amusedly.

Hoseok grumbles under his breath, seemingly drowning himself in whiskey (and paying the price with a hearty coughing fit). Jeongguk’s own lungs threaten to collapse once the woman behind the bar turns to him.

“What do you think? You seem the quiet type, sitting there and not saying a word since you arrived,” her voice is friendly, but Jeongguk still feels cold. “Do you think it’s healthy to be so caught up on a relationship like this?”

Jeongguk looks up for the first time, and makes eye contact with Hoseok. The air falls still, and Jeongguk thinks he may pass away at any moment. He can hear the terror in Hoseok’s voice, as he stammers and stutters.

“Hyerin, wait. That’s—“

She pauses. She looks back and forth between the two. She gasps. “Oh my god. This is not happening right now. Oh my god. I am so sorry, I didn’t know this—“

Jeongguk wants to run away.

Because of course it would have happened this way, straight out of one of those sappy guilty pleasure romcoms. And of course, Jeongguk would have eventually wanted to talk to Hoseok, so they could work things out like adults. Eventually, being the key word.

The air is heavy with both a mix of tension as well as guilt on Hyerin’s end, the girl slinking back uncharacteristically, as if afraid to dig herself any deeper. Jeongguk almost wishes she wouldn’t, just so that the two of them wouldn’t be alone.

“Hey,” Hoseok begins. He’d always been so simple.

Jeongguk grimaces, tries to turn it into a friendly grin of sorts. “Hey to you too.”

“Been a long time, huh?”

It has. Jeongguk has agonized over the days, but he wouldn’t dare let Hoseok know. For breaking his heart, he’d lost the privilege of knowing his feelings. He shrugs nonchalantly, putting on an act of indifference. “I s’pose so, huh?”

“Have things been… good? Still doing that film and photography stuff?”

Jeongguk has to scoff. He doesn’t mean to exude such bitter energy, but he can’t help but to react in this way, just with the sheer absurdity of the question. Has he been good? In Hoseok’s face, he can see it as well.

“Yeah. Things have been fine, yeah. As fine as they could be. Y’know, given the circumstances,” Jeongguk props an elbow up on the countertop, a sudden rush of confidence flooding his system after having caught the other off guard. “I’m sure there’s a million ways I would’ve rather spent my time, like a honeymoon in Paris, or a weekend trip to Jeju, but one can only wish!”

Hoseok blinks. Once. Twice. And then he cracks a smile.

“I don’t remember you ever being this snarky before.”

Somehow, Jeongguk smiles back. That shit-eating grin had always been so contagious. “You’re an ass.”

“You know it.”

“Whatever… People change, Hoseok!” Jeongguk complains, immediately speaking in pout. Even that makes him laugh at himself, shoulders slumping as he slips out of his defensive mode. “Fine, maybe I’m just extra sensitive these days. I’m sure you know why.”

Hoseok takes a long and dramatic sip, almost comedic. “I’d be lying to act like I didn’t know exactly what you’re talking about. I’d also be a major dick.”

“You might’ve been that before the split happened too, but I’ll just stay quiet,” Jeongguk says, only half-jokingly, finding way too much pleasure in their exchange of light banter. He even sees Hoseok frown though not with much conviction, the corners of his mouth twitching and threatening to peak. Jeongguk does the same, though he breaks character much sooner. He’d never been one to stay mad at Hoseok for long.

Still, he’s careful. While he may not want to hold nasty grudges, he most certainly wasn’t going to open up so easily, nor would he give in and let Hoseok have his heart with nothing more than a flashy grin (even if that grin was more radiant than the sun itself).

The words falter between them, neither having much courage to say anything that would lead to conversations too deep, or hearts aching from being empty for so long.

"I hope you know that this wasn't how I wanted things to go," Hoseok says, fingertip running along the rim of his glass.

Now, if this was three-months-ago-Jeongguk, he would have snapped back with another sharp-tongued comment, just for the sake of starting a fight. Thinking about that sliver of a personality makes Jeongguk cringe, and suddenly he's thankful for his friends that put up with how he'd channeled his anger. There's something about love and emotions and sap in there, but Jeongguk doesn't dwell on it for long.

(A part of him still wants to fight, but he’s relaxed. Maybe it was the alcohol.)

"Me neither," he puts it simply, though the emotions are brimming just below the surface. Jeongguk had always been simple in the most complex of ways.

Another sip, and the sound of ice cubes clambering together as they shift around in the glass. "I really think we could've been something special."

The words strike Jeongguk through the heart like a spear. Of course he agrees, even hesitates to mumble a little me too of agreement. Still, the wound is fresh.

“You say it so effortlessly, but you were the one who made things end the way they did,” he replies, voice soft and lacking any malice. He harbors less spite, and more insecurity, though he can’t control the way his eyebrow tics. “Was it really that easy of a decision for you?”

Hoseok’s nose twitches. He’s deep in thought, and Jeongguk can see it clear as day.

“Do you really think that lowly of me?” That’s wrong. He thinks lowly of himself. “Don’t you remember the night that I left? It wasn’t easy at all.”

Naturally, Jeongguk had replayed that night over and over in his head for the first few weeks, constantly beating himself up over letting Hoseok walk out of his life. He can remember Hoseok haphazardly shoving clothes into a suitcase, tossing this and that into a spare backpack. His movements had been aggressive, taking no care to sort through his belongings, even leaving some lingering behind for Jeongguk to mope over. From behind tears, Jeongguk had seen not a shred of difficulty in Hoseok’s actions.

It had been natural for a fight to occur that night, Jeongguk berating Hoseok for his actions, leaving him the laughing stock of the ceremony when a groomsman had to scurry down the aisle to deliver bad news. Luckily, it had been a smaller, more intimate wedding ceremony, but that did little to soften the blow of being irrevocably abandoned. Even worse were the pitiful looks the guests continued to give him, hushed whispers and gossip only making him feel lower and lower as the seconds ticked by.

Maybe if things had just ended there, Jeongguk would have been in too much shock to feel any other emotion, but when they inevitably met back at the apartment that evening, he’d had many hours to build his anger.

“You couldn’t have just, I don’t know, fucking talked to me about this beforehand? Maybe postpone or officially cancel the thing before you stood me up in front of all our friends and family? Would it really have been that hard?”

Hoseok’s brow furrowed and he continued to angrily shove things into a bag, after letting out a loud huff. “What, you think I planned the whole thing? You ever heard of impulse? Split-second decision making?”

The younger could only scoff, rolling his eyes too. “Is that how you felt about our whole relationship? Just one big impulse decision, something you decided on a whim like, ‘hey, I think I’ll make this guy fall in love with me, twirl him around for a little, and then leave when I’ve had my fun?’”

“Jesus, it’s not like that, okay. It was never like that. You think I’d do something like that?”

“Okay, but that’s literally what you just did,” Jeongguk scowled. “And stop answering everything with a question. You’re turning it all on me, when this is definitely not on me.”

A groan sounded from deep in Hoseok’s chest, and he finally stopped to look at the other, who had his arms crossed defensively over his chest, where he can see the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. They had been talking over each other or who knows how long, barely leaving room to think, words jumbled together into one angsty mess. Hoseok lets the pause hang, before trying to reason once more.

“Listen. Guk, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. It’s not that big a deal. We can talk things over more when you’ve settled down but I am not in the mood to just get yelled at tonight. I promise it’ll be better if we can just talk through this like a couple of adults.”

Every single word that he says made Jeongguk’s blood boil. He had never been known as a particularly angry person—unless his competitive nature had been sparked—but in the moment, he wanted to strangle Hoseok to death.

“Out of proportion? It’s not a big deal? Are you even listening to yourself right now?”

If he had ₩1000 for every time Hoseok rolled his eyes, or gave some sort of sound of disbelief, Jeongguk could probably cash out and live it up big in the city. Surely his life would be better that way. He could buy all of the useless junk he wanted, without having to worry about a useless romantic partner.

“Fine, if you’re not willing to wait, I’m not willing to talk right now. At all.”

Jeongguk was in disbelief. It’s almost the same level of shock as when he’d been stood up in the first place. “Fine.”

Things ended on a tense note, the bitter taste of disagreement an unwelcomed guest that just wouldn’t leave. The ring was placed in Jeongguk’s palm, instead of its rightful place on his finger. And in the end, they hadn’t even managed to talk it out, or smooth things over enough to come to some kind of neutral zone or agreement of any sort. Instead, the ill feelings grew, and with that, the distance too. Even standing in the same room, they felt miles apart.

And now, only a meter away, they almost feel like strangers again.

It’s funny how the world works in such wondrous ways, pulling people apart only to push them together again. Jeongguk questions the universe’s games, wonders what he could have possibly done to deserve this kind of outcome.

The rest of it comes as a blur, something about teary eyes and clenched fists filling all of the crevices. Nonetheless, Jeongguk is ready to move on. He’s tired of the pity party he’d made of himself, wants to start afresh and be known for something other than, “the guy who got left at the altar.”

Though, in the very least, Jeongguk wants to put an end to even the tiniest bits of negativity that had taken control. He wants to learn to forgive, but not forget. Seeing Hoseok now tugs at his heart, makes him wish they could go back in time and fix things before they were broken.

“You have that look on your face,” Hoseok says amusedly, swirling the now melting ice around in his glass.

“What look?”

“That one, you know. That look you get when you’re sentimental or way deep in your thoughts. Kind of like your soul has left your body, but like you’ve reached the second Age of Enlightenment at the same time. Don’t tell me, you were reminiscing?”

Jeongguk can only grumble. Meanwhile, Hoseok is entertained. “You always had that quality to you. A dreamer.”

“Stop, you make me sound like such a sad sap,” Jeongguk complains in retaliation, pausing before shaking his head. “You’re the worst.”

Hoseok grins, pleased to see that although Jeongguk wouldn’t play along, he at least wasn’t biting his nose off for the comment. “Maybe I am.”

A silence falls between them again, but this time, it’s more comfortable than before. They’d always been so complimentary, never feeling the need to fill the gaps with unnecessary fluff. They were real, raw, genuine. It seems as though things hadn’t changed, to Jeongguk’s relief. While he had been trying his best to keep an optimistic heart, it was hard to tell how the other party had been feeling at the time of their split. Had it all been due to stress, or had Jeongguk truly been the root of all evil, the devil himself, the reason for their tragic end?

He has to actually, physically shake his head to rid himself of such thoughts. Of course it wasn’t all his fault. How could it all rest on his shoulders? It’s the kind of burden that only exists in make-believe tales.

“You definitely are, but maybe that’s why I loved you so much,” Jeongguk chuckles, the fizzle of carbonation bubbling against his lips. Loved. He says it so casually. “You’re right, though.”

He doesn’t need to hear Hoseok’s ‘I told you so,’ but he does, and Jeongguk can only roll his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. And that’s why the ‘love’ part is past tense. You’re despicable.”

They look up at the same time, and their eyes meet. Smiling, bright, content.

“But you have to admit, when it was good, it was really good.” And how could Jeongguk deny that when it was the plain and honest truth? Because in all truth, Hoseok was right. They’d surely had their good moments, regardless of the way that things had come to an end. Hidden by all of the bad memories, were a few gems.

But he just shrugs, doesn’t want Hoseok to know that he was still a softie at his core. “Yeah, it was pretty good.”

Hoseok catches his bluff. Jeongguk couldn’t say he didn’t try, at least.

“Hey now, don’t act like you weren’t practically melting in my arms the night before!”

“I was weak! We were talking about how nervous we both were, and you were being sweet about it all! Don’t you dare try to distract from the fact that you were equally as weak,” Jeongguk retorts, almost childishly. “In fact, you probably had it worse. I mean, obviously your pre-wedding jitters had more of an affect, now that I think about it. But that doesn’t mean you can bully me about mine!”

(Jeongguk ignores the fact that he so casually alluded to the fact that Hoseok abandoned ship, and he certainly ignores his indifference to the matter.)

But it was the truth. While Jeongguk had been very on-brand with his nervous side coming out full force, Hoseok seemed to have revealed another side of himself, that Jeongguk saw only rarely.

Hoseok had always been the calm and collected one. That wasn’t to say that he himself never had his moments, but of the two, he was more level-headed, better at controlling his emotions and keeping a strong face for the sake of others. So to see him crumble down into a state of vulnerability, was really something else.

They laid together, shared the silence and held their respective worlds in their hands, fingers interlocked as if they had been made for each other.

“I can’t believe it’s really going to happen,” Jeongguk started, thumb rubbing across Hoseok’s gentle hand.

“Me neither,” he replied simply, even gave Jeongguk’s hand a gentle squeeze for emphasis. He didn’t say much else, just gazed down at where their fingers intertwined, tangled but in their rightful place.

Jeongguk could read his expression in an instant. After years together, he could recognize even the tiniest changes in his face and read him like an open book. He saw the minute frown, where the corners of his mouth turn down by no more than a couple of degrees. He saw the slightest furrow in his brow, and more than anything else, he saw the conflict in Hoseok’s eyes. “What’s the matter?”

Hoseok mustered up a smile, trying to offer up some bit of reassurance. “It’s nothing, baby. Just getting nervous, is all.”

“It’s just that?”

And it wasn’t just that, but Hoseok wasn’t going to admit it. “It’s just that.”

Jeongguk accepted the answer, didn’t want to be too pushy (though current-Jeongguk wishes he could have pried a little further, wishes he had been pushy, because maybe things would have gone differently, and they’d follow an alternate timeline in which they live happily ever after).

“I just don’t want to think of anything but our big day tomorrow,” Hoseok justifies himself, giving a soft smile of comfort. “I’m sure it’ll be a night to remember.”

And it would be, Jeongguk is sure of it. It was going to be a day of celebration, of tears and happiness, a union of two people in love. If he had the ability, he’d turn time forward just to get there sooner.

Little did he know, that’d he’d soon be wishing he could go back in time instead.

Their fingers remained tangled together, bodies close but souls closer. Jeongguk felt like he could die in the moment. He could die and he wouldn’t have minded in the slightest. And not even in a fit of existentialism, but rather the purest joy and excitement that made his heart beat a hundred times faster.

The two laid side by side, two imperfect halves of a perfect whole. They slid closer, effortlessly. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Until their lips met in the most delicate of kisses, gentle as if either of them may break under the pressure. But neither of them cared, only craving each other’s touch; treat every moment as if it’s the last.

It was always like this. After a long day, they’d settle down together, recharging on energy depleted from stressful lives. In their early days, Jeongguk and Hoseok would spend a night on the town, seeing the sights and acting like a couple of lovebirds. But as the months passed, they found comfort in the simple things.

They kiss for a while more, Jeongguk’s hands clutching at Hoseok’s sides, while Hoseok’s own palms cup at either side of the younger’s face. Intimacy and affection were the only words Jeongguk could remember, until they finally break away to catch their breath.

“Hey,” Jeongguk said, voice hushed but certain, lips kiss-swollen and pink. “I love you.”

Hoseok’s expression immediately softened, no longer worried or tense. “I love you, too.”

They didn’t need a cheesy one-liner to confirm their feelings. No need for, “maybe okay will be our always,” or, “it would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you,” because it’s not as though Jeongguk had ever found any sense in something so unexceptional in the first place. He and Hoseok were simplistic, in the best way.

It’s such a juxtaposition. Was that even the same Hoseok that left him behind? He had been so sweet, so comforting, only to pack up and go with the snap of a finger. Where had he gone wrong? At some point, their strings of fate had become tangled, a jumbled mess of right and wrong. But at what point did Hoseok break, and feel like he needed to sever their ties? How funny of fate to play such games with his heart.

Perhaps it was the constant push and pull, an undying strain amidst good times, that was the cause of their downfall. Had he really hated Hoseok all this time, or did he just hate himself?

“Hey,” he hears Hoseok call his attention. I love you? No, who was he kidding? “You doing alright?”

Jeongguk gives a little smile and nods. “Yeah, I’m good.” He wants to ask Hoseok, ‘do you feel pain like I do?’ but he thinks it’d be too clichéd, too much of a sappy movie trope to be saying things so freely like that.

Jeongguk had been the Icarus of his time. Expecting so much out of a single person was far too much to ask for, especially considering how he’d been quite lacking himself. And yet he’d flown so high, lifted up by love and its prospects, only to be dropped, plummeting back down and drowning in his own melancholy.

His nose pricks, and he feels the corners of his eyes ache with a sadness that had come to feel like second nature. The whole scenario is worth a laugh. Jeongguk remembers a period of time in which he endlessly quoted the cheesiest lines he could conjure up, half out of guilty pleasure and half out of a desire to be the biggest nuisance possible.

His heart blooms at the fond memory.

For a while, Hoseok was everything he thought he needed. But now, Jeongguk realizes that while he’d once put Hoseok on such a pedestal, perhaps it was his own mind that had been at fault.

“Do you regret any of it?” Jeongguk finally asks, willing to take the repercussions of his own curiosity.

The corner of Hoseok’s mouth lifts into an entertained smirk. How endearing it must be, to see things from the other side. “Regret? Maybe some parts. There was definitely something left to be desired, in our relationship.”

A shot to the heart, and Jeongguk wishes he could vanish.

“But regretting being with you? Never.”

Scratch that. Death wishes begone. Jeongguk could go on again.

“You’re serious?”

“Would I lie?”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. How despicably sweet.

“Hey. Would I lie?” Hoseok repeats himself for emphasis, the question rhetorical.

“You’re gonna ask me, of all people, if you’re a liar?” Jeongguk questions with a quirk of the brow. “Where do you want me to start? The part where you left me at the altar even though I distinctly remember you saying, ‘I’ll be there’?”

“Okay, uncalled for. I thought we were past that. I thought we were gonna talk about all the good parts now. You were even giving me those dreamy eyes!” Hoseok complains, tone light-hearted.

But something about it just irks Jeongguk. Couldn’t he take this one thing seriously? Sure, Hoseok was fun at parties, but was he really this dense and incapable of being serious, when hearts were on the line?

(Even Jeongguk’s now-flowery rose of a heart begins to wither away.)

“Are you for real, Jung Hoseok?” Gone were the formalities, because firstly, they were ‘past that’. Secondly, fuck it.

“What?”

“You’re gonna joke around like none of it even mattered to you?”

Hoseok is bewildered. “What the fuck, Jeongguk?”

“I’ve been depressed for months because of you," Jeongguk scowls, grip around the glass a little too tight. “And you’re here, having the audacity to just—I don’t fucking know—joke around as if I was just some fling? As if we weren’t together for years?”

Hoseok’s mouth opens, closes. He babbles about but doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Jeongguk takes over again.

“I really can’t believe it, Hoseok. And here I was, thinking that you’d changed at all. Guess I was wrong, you’re still the inconsiderate prick who left without a word.”

“Jesus, Jeongguk. Why are you attacking me like this? Don’t I have a say in the matter?”

“No, you don’t. You left those privileges behind when you left me.”

Hoseok can only gape.

“You say you have to regrets, so why do you act like I’m worth nothing to you? Don’t you regret spending all those years with me, when you could’ve been out having fun instead?”

Jeongguk is standing fully upright now, presence intimidating with clenched fists and a tight jaw, eyebrows tightly knit together. He’s not sure how, but Hoseok remains composed as ever.

“It was a mistake, leaving you. I regret it every day, but I don’t—and will never—regret our relationship.”

His voice is steady, even, calm. The seriousness in his tone sends a chill through Jeongguk’s spine. Maybe he really was serious after all. Their eyes lock, and Hoseok’s expression reads as intense and genuine, eyes searching Jeongguk’s for more.

“I think our timelines went off-kilter. Like they were intertwined but got tangled up somewhere along the way, then split off into opposite directions.”

“What are you, a poet?”

Hoseok scoffs at the words Jeongguk spat, and shakes his head. “What I mean is, sometimes things just don’t work out. And it’s never any one person’s fault,” he reasons. Finally, “It’s not your fault.”

And maybe those are the words Jeongguk has been needing to hear in order for him to reach catharsis. All it took was some reassurance, to know that Hoseok didn’t blame him. Had it been this simple all along?

“Sorry,” he finally mumbles as he drops himself unceremoniously back into his seat. He feels ashamed for having lashed out, cheeks dusting pink; they’re visible even under the shabby lighting, but Hoseok only smiles.

There’s a small voice from behind the bar. The two turn their heads in sync, as if they were one. “Hey, sorry to interrupt but, it’s last call, fellas.”

“I hate that you have a last call. Does anyone even do that in Korea?” Hoseok complains.

“I do, because I have other things to do. And that list doesn’t include taking care of a drunk you on a daily basis, believe it or not.”

The two continue to bicker, leaving Jeongguk to his own thoughts. When did it get so late? Jeongguk left the house early, for a Friday night at least. But then again, the time did always go by faster when he was in good company.

Walking into the bar earlier that night, Jeongguk was a mix of all feelings. Angry, in some ways, and depressed in others. He thought that maybe a couple drinks would help him to mellow out, maybe realize that things could be worse. He most certainly had not been expecting this turn of events, but he thrives. While heartbreak wasn’t high on his wish list, there certainly were worse outcomes.

This wasn’t a time for sulking, he’d decided. It was a time for reminiscing and recalling the best parts of what they had, when they had it.

Jeongguk imagines himself far away, places himself into an open field. There are little dandelions and wildflowers surrounding the area. He’s sitting cross-legged and across from the love of his life. Hoseok looks like he’s made out of the fallen feathers of an angel’s wings.

The memory comes to him fresh, as if it had just happened yesterday. Jeongguk's memories had stood the test of time, and certainly the test of separation. And maybe Hoseok was right, maybe he was too sentimental for his own good, but that wasn't going to stop him. In some kind of twisted way, it was all helping him come to realize that while the slice of his life with Hoseok hadn't gone according to plan, it didn't mean the rest of his mortal life needed to exist in a plane of wallowing and self-doubt.

Because sure, they'd had their fair share of fights, but amongst those, were the precious memories that kept Jeongguk so hopeful in the first place. Cynicism stood no chance against his shining optimism.

"You are unbelievably bright," Hoseok had said to him one night as they sat under the dim lighting of the moon. It had come out of nowhere, but is welcomed nonetheless. The air was pleasantly cool, steam rising from the assortment of instant ramen they’d picked up from the nearby convenience store. Jeongguk recalls the gentle melodies of something about strawberries and cigarettes playing through a speaker.

"What do you mean?" He questioned innocently. It makes Hoseok's expression turn fonder than before, almost as if he might scoop him up and fly away.

"I mean you're glowing. From the deepest parts of you, all the way to the surface. Like, you shouldn't be real and yet you are. A diamond in the rough, as they say."

Jeongguk wanted to be swayed, but he laughed instead. "That's probably the most despicable thing you've ever said to me, to this date. Please stop."

Hoseok stared at him blankly, though Jeongguk could see how the corners of his lips fought to curl upwards into that smile he loved so much. "I was trying to compliment you, but okay."

Jeongguk's nose crinkled with his laughter, shoulders a gentle shake, and Hoseok laughed as well, seemingly in disbelief. "Wow, catch me never complimenting you again!"

Jeongguk gasped, contemplated whether or not to just fall over for the sake of being dramatic, hands held up like a criminal caught red-handed. "I was just very honestly reacting to the amount of cheese you brought up out of nowhere."

"You are the actual worst," Hoseok complains. "I don't even know why I like you!"

Jeongguk responded with an obnoxious slurp of ramen, cheeks rounded from the sheer amount he’d shoved into his mouth (because Hoseok had bet he couldn’t eat six in one sitting, and who was Jeongguk to turn down a challenge?). Despite it all, Hoseok was beyond infatuated.

After their return from overseas, the two had often met up. Dates or not, they never said. There were no titles, no desire to make any big claims. Because all that mattered was that they were together, enjoying each other’s company and helping each other grow.

Hoseok looked ethereal under the moonlight, Jeongguk remembers, having a distinct memory of the pretty glow on his cheeks, though he’s not sure if that was due to the alcohol, or perhaps something else entirely. The details don’t matter.

They’d shared their first kiss here, lips carrying the taste of sodium packed soup. Jeongguk could remember feeling insecure about his dehydrated lips, but in the end, he doesn’t think that Hoseok cared in the slightest.

It was sweet, in every sense of the word.

Somehow, when he looks at Hoseok now, the dying light bulbs are reminiscent of the moon, and his lips feel warm. He begins to crave, but their history together keeps him grounded. His eyes shut, and he takes a deep breath. When he has the strength to open his eyes again, Hoseok is right there.

Jeongguk smiles, and Hoseok smiles back. Jeongguk can feel his heart pinch, something akin to anxiety and tension but something else too; he can’t quite put a finger on it. He’s at a loss for words.

He takes ahold of the memory, and cherishes it. Places it somewhere deep in the banks of his memory just for safekeeping. He doesn’t want to throw it all away, he realizes. Because what they’d had—when they had it—was truly special. Even with the fights or the nights spent with backs turned to each other, he appreciates it all. You’ve built character, as his mother would say. And maybe he’s wrong for thinking that way, but Jeongguk pays no mind.

Maybe he’s just sentimental, the alcohol warming him up and blurring the lines of good and bad. He clings onto the last remaining memories.

Hoseok had never been the kind of person to say flowery words or anything overly sweet, so Jeongguk’s expectations are low even now. Nevertheless, he can sense a difference in the other’s demeanor. There’s some kind of softness radiating from nearby, perhaps tinged with the smallest bit of selflessness and regret?

Soon, they’re unceremoniously kicked out of the bar (Hyerin claims it’s to clean up and close shop, but Jeongguk has his suspicions that she had been playing a silent therapist all along).

It’s enough for him when Hoseok stands and holds out his hand for Jeongguk to take (which he does, gladly). As they head for the door, he imagines them walking the flower path, a fairytale in which they meet no disturbances, never falling apart despite what life had planned for them. If he keeps it in his memory just like this, Jeongguk is happy. There is no delusion, but rather a comfort of what could have been. No point in dwelling on the past, when there was so much more to live for.

Life wasn’t so miserable after all.

It’s kind of like their fateful meeting in the depths of Japan. Their first real meeting, a real conversation and a real connection amidst the feelings of being lost abroad. There’s a cinematic parallel, everything playing out so perfectly and like they were actors on stage. But the feelings are genuine, even years later. Even after heartbreak. Running into each other by mere chance, sharing a few drinks late at night, stealing little glances along the way.

Jeongguk is left feeling conflicted, unsure of what he wants anymore. He’d been through the entire range of emotions in a single night, first wallowing in self-doubt and insecurity, to anger, to longing, even. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel, because on one hand, no one can deny their chemistry, but on the other hand, he knows his feelings are wrong (and his friends would definitely kill him if he made any stupid decisions tonight—or any night, for that matter).

But the night has come to an end, and so must Jeongguk’s fantasies.

It’s cold and dark, yet not solemn nor blue like before. Jeongguk shivers, regretting not having brought his trusty bomber jacket along—to be fair, he hadn’t been expecting to come home so late. Time had surely escaped them both, the bite of a Seoul breeze cutting deep into flesh. It had been a cold night in Japan too, even for the humid summer days.

(Jeongguk wouldn’t dare say it out loud, but he was warm enough from the fuzzy feeling in his chest alone.)

Hoseok had draped his jacket over Jeongguk’s shoulders, said it would be a reason for them to meet up again. Jeongguk remembers flushing embarrassingly deep.

And now they diverge from the script. There’s no offering of warmth, no blushing cheeks. The flowery feeling is still present, but nowhere near as intense as before. Old Hoseok was charming, while Present Hoseok is neutral.

And that, is alright.

“So I’ll see you again?” Old Hoseok said cleanly, giving a nod towards the jacket hanging on Old Jeongguk’s broad frame. Old Jeongguk snorts, but laughs out an, “of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Present Hoseok keeps his distance, hands in his pockets. “We should meet up some time.”

They’re empty words, more out of politeness than anything else. They’re the kind of words you say casually, with no intention of following through. But Present Jeongguk is okay with that. Back then, they’d exchanged numbers. And now, there is only a mention of, “you have my number if you need me.”

Jeongguk wants to say, “don’t forget me. Maybe we’ll start over one day. Maybe we’ll do it right,” but he knows better.

Instead, they stand a little longer, appreciate everything that they’d been through together. Jeongguk knows that they would never get back together, but his heart is light and happy. Gone were the days of wallowing in self-doubt, making way for a second chance at living—truly living.

Hoseok reaches out a hand for Jeongguk to shake. The grip is firm, yet gentle all at once. It feels like an ample enough conclusion to their story.

“It was nice seeing you again, Jeongguk.”

The words are genuine, and Jeongguk beams. “Likewise, Hoseok.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around, come to one of your showings or an exhibit or something.”

“Yeah? I’d like that a lot,” he replies, mentally scratching the “Hoseok Hate Exhibit” off of his list of gallery themes.

And he doesn’t know what comes over him in this moment, but before he knows it, Jeongguk is enveloping Hoseok in a warm embrace. It feels so natural, so easy to be close like this. And for a second, he regrets it, sensing the stillness of Hoseok’s own body. What a stupid mistake; he’d taken back the night’s progress. Back to square one.

But then he hears the rustle of clothing, feels warm arms surround his frame, and all is right again.

The hug is secure and comforting, yet lacking any sort of romantic intention or lingering emotion. It’s nothing more than closure, in the sweet form of physical assurance. This is enough for Jeongguk, already content with how far they’d come in the span of a single heartfelt night together. So when supple lips press a gentle kiss to the dip of his temple, Jeongguk is over the moon.

He pulls back, looks up to Hoseok again. He’s in a state of disbelief, playing it up to his own imagination. But he can see Hoseok so clearly in front of him. It had been no mistake. His hands hold at steady elbows, trying to calm his own wild heart. Hoseok’s expression is tender, almost as if to say, “I wish you the best.”

Jeongguk understands. He feels the same way.

They step apart now, hands sliding until their fingers meet, lingering just a fraction of a second too long. There’s a warmth, that spreads from the tips of his fingers, all the way through his veins and surrounding his heart in a sentimentality that leaves him hazy. Despite having his wishes, Jeongguk knows his future will not contain a Jung Hoseok, but he doesn’t let the thought drown him. Whatever happens, he’s content.

Eventually, they have to part ways. It feels like they should be saying more—anything at all—but neither party does. And that, is the most on-character thing either of them could have done.

“Bye, Jeongguk,” Hoseok mumbles, finally dropping Jeongguk’s hand from his grasp.

Jeongguk doesn’t want to let go, his own voice weak. “Bye, Hoseok.”

And then they go on their own ways, stealing glances at each other over shoulders. At some point, Hoseok even turns around to walk backwards, that brilliant grin shining even more so in the darkness of the late hour. And Jeongguk does the same.

They continue like this, until eventually Hoseok rounds a corner, hesitating only slightly before he disappears. It’s at this moment that Jeongguk stops in his tracks, and lets out a sigh. His shoulders feel lighter, and there’s a life in his step.

The remainder of the walk home is pleasant, and when Jeongguk finally arrives home, he feels content. Ready for what the future may hold.

He feels happy.

He rinses off a tired face, dreading the puffiness that a late night’s sleep inevitably brought to his eyes. Showers could wait until morning. He hums a song, something about sugar and smoke rings, lighters and candy. He finds comfort in his largest t-shirt.

When Jeongguk slinks into bed, he’s all smiles. It’s such a relief, to know that the world was in fact not ending, and that everything was going to be okay. Even if it’s not the ending he wanted, he’s not worried anymore.

It’s almost laughable, how easily things were smoothed over, putting the past six months of Jeongguk’s life to shame.

Blankets had never felt so homely before, Jeongguk muses to himself as he drifts between planes of wake and sleep. There’s visions of white clouds and Hoseok, too. He wonders if they’ll ever meet by chance again. It’s unlikely, but they could contact each other if they ever felt the need—Jeongguk proposes he might follow through one day, but he doesn’t dwell on the thought.

There’s a light patter of rain on the window, the air outside now refreshed and ready to start anew when the morning dew comes. For Jeongguk, it’s the same.

And thus he sleeps, ready to start again come morning.