Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, there lived a boy in a faraway land.

The mischievous spirit led a band of fellow vagabonds. Wayward souls much like his own: young and misguided, unwanted and uncaring. Their bold leader gave the group a name: the lost boys. Together, these lost boys explored the reaches of Neverland. 

They trekked through perilous jungles riddled with boobytraps and sailed the high seas. Using just a sprinkle of fairy dust, they soared through the sky, flying to the moon and back. Together the lost boys hunted for treasure and rescued princesses. When they were hungry, they picked fruit fresh from the towering palms and feasted on the sticky, supple flesh. On days during which the sun beamed down too harshly, they bathed beneath the rainforest’s cool waterfalls.

The lost boys did as they pleased when they pleased, only deferring from their pleasure to keep evil at bay. They only had a single rule to follow:

Never grow up.

And so they didn’t, for the magic of the place allowed it to be so. So long as they dwelled in that enchanted land, they would not grow up. 

They lived like that for as long as it pleased them, led by the boy with hair the color of fire. Never to know unhappiness. Never to know oppression.

Never to grow up.

“Get out,” the boy snarls at Seonghwa. For the life of him, Seonghwa cannot understand why. Why?

Hot tears stream down the older boy’s face, “But- But Hongjoong-” 

“I said get out!” The other shouts again. His face is angry, cheeks tinted a blazing red nearly matching the fiery tones of his hair. 

“What did I do?” Seonghwa asks, his voice thick. “Hongjoong, please, just tell me, what did I do?”

“You- You can’t be here anymore,” Hongjoong’s voice sounds thick, and his chest heaves as he struggles to remain composed. It’s clear that Hongjoong is laboring to keep it together.

“But- But why, Hongjoong?” Tears sear Seonghwa’s skin as they roll down his swollen cheeks.

Nothing makes sense anymore. He can’t hear the crickets chirping him nor see the fireflies’ light. The silhouettes of the trees in the moonlight no longer look like trees at all but some sort of insinuation of a tree. It’s as if someone had to draw a tree from description alone having never seen one in life. Even the air stilled into almost suffocating stagnation.

“Just leave already,” The redhead demands loudly, angrily. Misery radiates off of him - Seonghwa had never seen him like this in his entire time knowing the boy. “Don’t you get it? You’re not welcome here anymore.”

“B-But Hongjoong, I- I don’t understand,” Seonghwa cries. “I don’t understand, I- I’m one of the lost boys, aren’t I? After all our adventures? All the times I saved you and- and you saved me?”

The redhead’s eyes dart away for a second, “None of that matters anymore. You can’t be here now.”

The world around Seonghwa starts to crumble. One by one, each star in the sky dims until eventually fading into black. Even the moonlight dulls. Shadows begin to envelop the forest, obscuring Hongjoong more with each passing second.

“C-Can’t you tell me why?” The black-haired boy begs. “What did I do? I’ll- I’ll take it back. I’ll do anything, Hongjoong. Anything.”

“You… You can’t take this back,” There’s almost nothing left of him, of Hongjoong. It’s like the shadows are just eating him up. Seonghwa squints, but it doesn’t help. When did it become so dark? Where is everything? The light? The sounds? The nighttime breeze?

“Hongjoong, please- I can’t-”

“You have to leave this place now,” Hongjoong’s voice is the last thing Seonghwa hears, and all he can see is one last flash of that red hair before everything fades to black.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa cries out into the darkness.

There’s no answer.

“Hongjoong?”

Still no answer.

“H… Hongjoong?” His voice is tiny, nothing but a pathetic squeak.

No answer.

Sorrow overtakes Seonghwa. It grips him and squeezes with a merciless vice. Every tear and sob he’d kept inside pours out through his eyes, nose, and lips. He surrenders to the pain, dropping onto his knees and burying his face in his hands. It feels as if the ground itself shifts beneath him until it swallows him whole.

“Wake up sleepyhead!”

Seonghwa practically hits the ceiling as he jolts up. He blinks confusedly, head whipping around manically. When the bleariness clears from his eyes, he finds the culprit standing in his doorway.

“ Mom ,” Seonghwa groans, wringing a hand down his face. He paws at his phone on the nightstand. It’s just past seven in the morning. “Wh… Why…? So early...” Forming sentences is still a bit of a struggle at this hour.

“I only get a few more hours before I send you off to the wolves,” She replies, giddily skipping to Hwa’s side. She perches on his bed, reaching out to squeeze his cheek. “How’s it feel to wake up a college student ?”

Hwa groans, “Mom I’ve been a college student for two years already. Do we still have to do this every time I go back to the dorms?”

“Yes,” She grins. “You know you and I only have a couple of years left of this. Sure, it sounds like a lot to you, but before we know it, those years will be gone.”

“Mom-”

“And you’ll be going off, getting a job. No doubt getting married, giving me a few beautiful grandchildren-”

“Mom-”

“I’m thinking three- two boys and a girl. At least one girl, please. I’d love to spoil a baby girl…”

“ Mom !” Seonghwa huffs. “I’m twenty-one, not thirty-one.”

“Thirty-one will be here before you know it!” She smacks her son lightly on the shoulder. “Stop growing up so fast! Gosh it feels like just yesterday you were twelve years old. Time flies too fast...”

“Thank you for reminding me of my mortality, mother,” Seonghwa replies. “I love being reminded that every second I spend alive is one step closer to death.”

“Oh my god- why are you millenials so dark?!”

“You tell me. You’re the one who raised me,” Hwa sasses. 

“I suppose it does explain the dramatic flair,” She concedes with a grin. “Alright, you know the drill. Get dressed so we can get a nice, big breakfast!” She hops off the bed but before walking toward the door, her brows furrow. She leans in and inspects her son’s face more closely. “Honey, have you been snacking late again?”

“Wha-? No,” Seonghwa responds confusedly.

His mom’s lips purse with perturbation, “Your face looks a bit puffy, sweetheart.”

“It- It does?” Seonghwa pats his cheeks. They do feel slightly agitated. His eyes feel sore, too. 

“My face roller’s in the fridge, you can borrow it if you like,” She waves dismissively as she strides out.

“Thanks!” Seonghwa shouts after her. He silently curses when she walks off, leaving the door open. God, why do parents never close the damn door.

Hwa sighs, letting reality set in for a few minutes. He hovers in that state of half-sleep and tries to remember what he’d dreamed of.

Whatever it was, it was sad. He knows that. He can feel it, the hole in his heart that hadn’t quite mended before he woke up.

Seonghwa rolls his eyes as he raps on the door. It’s the third time this week that he’s had to “check in” on the guys in suite 302. After the third time, one of them finally opens the door, a sheepish, shit-eating grin on his face. His name is Billy or Bobby or something like that. The skunky stench of weed floats out from the room. 

“Oh. ‘Sup Seonghwa,” The ambiguous “B” guy greets Hwa. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“Four o’ clock rounds,” Seonghwa replies flatly. Being an RA has a lot of perks. Early move-in, compensated meal plan, discount on tuition. However, the job isn’t without its challenges. Its many, many challenges. “The four o’ clock rounds that I do every day. At four o’ clock.”

The red-eyed student lets out a wheeze, “Right. Right, yeah, um. What, uh, what’s up?”

Hwa suppresses the urge to shoot the guy a dirty look, “The dorms have a strict no… ‘Tobacco’ policy.”

Apparently, the guy’s more baked than Seonghwa thought, and it takes an embarrassing amount of time for him to process the other’s words, “No tobacco?”

“No smoking. Period,” Seonghwa glances pointedly past the student into the suite’s common room. A glass apparatus sits plainly on the coffee table, steam billowing up from its mouthpiece. He knows he ought to be more strict, but it’s college for fuck’s sake. Seonghwa tries to be understanding, and he’s all about free expression. College is tough. Everyone copes differently. Just, for fuck’s sake, not in his damn dorms. Weed is beyond illegal, and realistically police would have to get involved if word got out. Seonghwa doesn’t even know where the fuckers get it. If he did, he’d have half a mind to march over to the dealer himself and tell him to stop.

“Right, right. Sorry, Hwa, we’ll, uh, stop,” The student answers with a giggle.

“I’m coming back in fifteen minutes, and if it’s not out, I’m writing you up.”

“Y-Yes, sir ,” Bobby (or Billy) coughs out. He shuts the door quickly after, and Seonghwa rolls his eyes. The suite could’ve been written up near a dozen times by now - and it’s only the second week of the semester. They’re damn lucky Seonghwa’s a softie with a hippie streak. 

Weed.

Fuck’s sake. At least put the stuff in a vape. Or go to something easy to hide like booze or cocaine.

“Christ,” Seonghwa hisses at himself. He wrings a hand through his ashy blond hair. Did he really just think that? Once upon a time, the idea of drugs was something scary and abstract. Only villainous criminals abused drugs, sketchy types who wear trench coats and try to lure kids into alleys. Now he’s excusing their use, writing it off like it’s nothing. Because, to him, he supposes it is nothing. 

He supposes he’s one of the lucky ones in that regard. Aside from the occasional wild night out, he doesn’t really partake. For some, it genuinely is a crutch, a coping mechanism. And how sad is that? To think that people used to be happy-go-lucky, that they didn’t have to rely on a substance as a crutch. 

Guess that’s what happens when you grow up.

Times change, people change, you change.

Seonghwa chastises himself for the tangent. Pessimistic thoughts can wait for later, he thinks as he knocks on the next door.

San bats Mingi’s hand away playfully, “Fuck off. If you wanted nuggets, why didn’t you get your own?”

Mingi grins widely from his spot at the table, “Because I didn’t want my own nuggets-” He reaches out for San’s again, “-I wanted yours.”

Seonghwa laughs as he watches the two play-wrestle for a few chicken nuggets. It’s not often their schedules align. He met San sophomore year in an intro to psychology course. The two happened to sit together, and on the first day San leaned over and asked: “When do we learn about why I wanna fuck my stepdad?”

They became fast friends after that.

Seonghwa met Mingi through San, and they both met Yunho through Mingi. Jongho was partnered with Seonghwa for an intro to physics course. At first, it shocked Hwa to see someone so young at university, but Jongho explained that he commutes and the credits count toward his last year of high school. Yeosang lived on Seonghwa’s floor after transferring for the second semester of Hwa’s second year. Seonghwa found himself hanging out in Yeosang’s room a lot which is how he came to known Wooyoung, Yeo’s childhood friend.

It’s funny to think about how the lives of seven people can intertwine. It all seems so random, and if one little detail or connection had gone differently, would they even be friends at all? Seonghwa doesn’t like to entertain that thought. As they went from acquaintances to tight-knit friends, Seonghwa found himself leaning on the others more and more. Now he can’t imagine a life without them.

The seven of them laze around a table at the slightly less shitty of the late-night dining halls. It’s near midnight, and students mill about in sweats and pajamas, hair thrown up in buns and no-fucks-given ponytails. Wooyoung hadn’t even bothered taking off his fluffy pink headband, and Yeosang fell back on his reliable beanie to cover his mop. 

Hwa laughs at the other’s antics as they make a scene over chicken nuggets. 

A flash of red dots his peripheral vision.

Without thinking, Seonghwa’s eyes follow it. It’s just a second, but he sees it. Or more properly, them. It’s a person. For sure, it’s a person. Red hair, perhaps? Or a red hood? A red shirt? Seonghwa wonders about what he saw. He’s not sure why, but the impression left by that instant persistently itches at the back of his mind. He wracks it in hopes of figuring out what he’d seen. For what reason, he can’t say. It just bothers him.

“-Hwa?” Yeosang’s voice penetrates Seonghwa’s thinking.

“Hm?” Seonghwa snaps out of it.

Yeo quirks an eyebrow, “Thinking about something?” The others catch on and look on, intrigued.

“Hm? Oh, no. I just thought I saw-” Saw what?  Saw what? “Someone.”

“You… Thought you saw someone?” Yeosang asks dryly.

“Yeah, like- Wh- Don’t give me that look,” Seonghwa’s cheeks tint red, “I just- I swear I saw red hair, like really red hair. It was like a firetruck-”

“Ah,” Yeosang’s befuddled expression blossoms into a massive grin, “There it is.”

“You and your redheads,” San snorts.

“Wh- No, guys- That is not what I meant!” Seonghwa argues, affronted. The callout is not appreciated.

“Mhm,” Wooyoung hums doubtfully. 

“Yeah, okay,” Jongho adds with a laugh.

Hwa gapes, “Wha- Are you serious I- Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Hmm,” Yeosang smirks. “I dunno. Maybe because of… Taeyong?”

San snorts, “I was gonna say Miya.”

Seonghwa glares at them, “Oh, okay, so I- I was involved with two redheads-”

“No, you crushed on them,” Jongho corrects him. “You lusted after Taeyong who - let’s all be real - is way too good for you-”

“Fuck you!”

“-and Miya is gay. Like. Super gay,” Jongho continues, ignoring his elder rudely. “Honestly how did you not get that?”

“I’m an optimist who believes in the fluidity of sexuality,” Seonghwa replies keenly.

“Didn’t you lust after your one TA, too,” Mingi adds. “Jooheon?”

Wooyoung claps and laughs squeakily, “We called him Joohoney- I remember that!”

“Okay,” Seonghwa sighs resignedly.

Woo unapologetically fans the flames, “There was, um, who’s that one guy from the b-boy club? Daniel?”

“Oh.” “Yes!” “He’s hot as fuck.”

Hwa huffs, “Okay-”

Yeo laughs, “You told me your one ex- Youngmin? He had red hair when you dated him-”

“That’s enough!” Seonghwa throws a chopstick at Yeosang. Sure, he’s down a chopstick, but the little stick of wood hits Yeo square in the face. Worth it. “So what if I think red hair’s a good look. It’s a good look, fuck off!”

“At least you admit it,” Yeosang chuckles.

Jongho shakes his head, “I’m making a mental note never to dye my hair red. I don’t think I could deal with you being all over me.”

“Yes because that is what would happen,” Seonghwa snarks. “The second red dye touches your hair, I’d fall madly in love with you.”

“God forbid you go to Ireland,” Mingi snarks. 

“Psh, I wish,” Seongha sighs. “Because a vacation would be nice! Not because I have a redhead fetish! You weirdos.” He looks down at his bowl of rice dejectedly. Maybe throwing the chopstick wasn’t his finest move.

Seonghwa dejectedly gets up to get another set, his head filled with the idea of a vacation somewhere far, far way. Ireland. It’d never stuck out to him in particular, but he’s seen it in documentaries and such. It’s a little, green island with rolling hills as far as the eye can see.

A place like that must be peaceful. He can picture it vividly, the expanse of green, overgrown fields dancing in the wind giving way to the washing waves of the sea.

Seonghwa’s heart clenches with panic. He squeezes his eyes shut and clings to the red-haired boy for his life. His stomach flips as they go higher, higher, higher. This can’t be real, he tells himself. This can’t be real . Of course it’s not real. None of this can possibly be real. 

Except, when Seonghwa cautiously opens one eye, he’s not looking at the ceiling of his bedroom. No. His heart drops to his feet. Or perhaps it drops lower, beyond them onto the ground far, far below. Buildings carpet the ground beneath him like little patches spotted with pocks of light. Around him is nothing but crisp night air, illuminated by bright moonlight. And, of course, there’s the boy.

He giggles mirthfully, “I told you, you can let go.” Specks of fairy dust twinkle in the moonlight.

“N-No way,” Seonghwa shakes his head. “I’m not letting go. This is crazy. You’re crazy.”

“Actually, I’m Hongjoong,” He grins ear to ear at the silly joke.

“I don’t care who you are or- or what you are. What are you?”

Hongjoong shrugs, “I’m just a lost boy from Neverland.”

“Wh- Come on, are you serious?”

“Are you serious?” Hongjoong fires back. “Seonghwa, you’re flying.”

“What? No, this is all some kind of an illusion or something,” Seonghwa responds, burying his face in the other’s chest again.

“An illusion, huh?” Hongjoong sounds more amused than ever. “In that case, it wouldn’t be a problem if…” He lays a hand on top of Seonghwa’s and digs his fingers beneath the black-haired boy’s. “You let go.”

“Huh? No! No!” Seonghwa panics, trying to squeeze harder, but Hongjoong caught him off guard.

The redhead pries Hwa's grip off of himself and roughly shoves Seonghwa. The older boy screams shrilly. His limbs flail futilely as he readies himself for free fall. This is it, he tells himself. This is how he dies. Falling to his death - probably crashing through the roof of some poor, unsuspecting family. What a headline that’ll be: It’s Raining Ten Year Old Boys! 

Except, instead of cracking bones and crashing buildings, Seonghwa hears gut-splitting laughter. He hesitantly pries his eyes open. When he blinks the tears away, there isn’t a light at the end of the tunnel or the roof of a building. It’s just Hongjoong, hunched over in the air, laughing so much that tears well up in his eyes and his nose scrunches.

It slowly dawns on Seonghwa.

He can fly.

He can fly.

He’s flying right now.

“I… I’m flying,” Seonghwa mutters with disbelief.

“I told you,” Hongjoong replies with a smile.

Seonghwa looks down at himself and he recognizes the same twinkle that Hongjoong has. Fairy dust.

Hwa lets out a laugh, “I can fly!” He tests out movement a bit. It’s weird at first. He feels wobbly and unsure. He ends up awkwardly flipping and flopping.

Thankfully, Hongjoong takes pity on him and extends a hand, “Here,” He says with a giggle, “Just stick with me until you get it.”

“O-Okay,” Seonghwa takes the other’s offer, lacing their fingers together and holding on tightly. 

Led by the other, Hwa feels at ease. Soon, all of his nerves disappear. Whenever he gets too nervous looking around, he trains his eyes on the redhaired boy guiding him. 

He looks so pretty, glowing in the moonlight, like a precious gem or a night-blooming flower.

Seonghwa scrambles to find his phone. He was studying at his desk when its trill reminded him that he’d been looking at his screen for too damn long. After scattering papers that he’d strewn about his desk, Seonghwa finds his phone serving as a bookmark in one of his texts books.

He slides the arrow icon and answers, “Hello?”

“Hello, Seonghwa. It’s me. Your mother. You know, the one who gave birth do you?”

Oh god.

“Hi mom, what’s up?” Seonghwa swivels in his wheeled chair idly.

“What’s up? My son hasn’t called me in ages is what’s up! And do I need a reason to call you, really?”

It can’t have been that long. He glances at the date on his computer.

“Mom,” Seonghwa replies, “It’s been, like, a week.”

“It has been a week and two days, precisely.”

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes even though he’s smiling. “It’s been busy lately.”

“I know, I know dear. College is a very hectic time. Still! I want to know you’re doing okay!” She scolds him.

“Yes, mom.”

“So… How is my son doing?”

What is he supposed to say to that? That he sleeps an average of four hours a night because of midterms? That he goes days where the one meal he eats is instant noodles? That coffee might actually be replacing his blood at this point? That what sleep he does get is often interrupted by weird nightmares?

“I’m doing good!” He answers brightly. “Just studying, you know. I have two  midterms this week, then another the next week.”

“Oh my. I know studying is important, but don’t forget to rest, too.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Are you eating well?”

“Yes, mom.”

“And you are getting enough sleep?”

“Yes, mom.”

“How are your friends doing?” 

“Yes, mom.”

“See any good shows lately?”

“Yes, mom.”

“You’re not paying attention at all, are you?”

“Yes, mom.”

A deep sigh through the speaker informs Seonghwa that he’d said something wrong. He blinks confusedly, not immediately understanding that he zoned out.

“S-Sorry,” Seonghwa mutters sheepishly into the receiver. “Like I said, two exams this week. I was skimming a textbook.” That’s a lie, but she can’t prove otherwise.

“Oh, dear. I hope you don’t space out like that in class.”

He definitely does.

“I don’t. I like to take notes by hand,” Seonghwa says.

“Good to hear. Ah, my son. You know you can be so spacy sometimes.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Not anymore!” His mom laughs. “You used to be terrible. You know we were really worried about you when you were a kid.”

“Wh- Come on. I was not that bad.”

“You don’t remember, but I do. It started when you were nine, maybe ten. You slept for ages and- god- you zoned out so much. We really thought something happened to your brain.”

“Wh- Mom. You did not.”

“Yes, we did! We thought about getting you looked at!”

“Oh my god, that’s so dramatic.”

“Honey, you would zone out for hours, sometimes. If you weren’t at school or one of your sports clubs, it was like- you’d just sit in one place and stare out your window. Nothing could stir you, and I mean nothing .”

“Okay I- I know I daydreamed a lot as a kid, but that sounds exaggerated.”

“It’s not, I am serious. It was like- like your body was in one place, but your mind wasn’t. Like your spirit just left your body.”

“That’s nice.”

“I’m telling you, it’s true! Thank god you snapped out of it. It was a scary couple of years.”

“ Scary ? Mother-”

“Seonghwa! Stop making your mother worry all the time!”

“Mom, I’m starting to worry about you…” He laughs. It’s nice to hear from her. A little pang of guilt knocks at him. He really should be more mindful of calling her. In spite of his promise to not engage in worrisome behavior, he ends up doing just what she’d lamented before: he zones out.

Was he really that bad as a kid?

Why doesn’t he remember that?

A steady beat echoes from the crowd of drum players across the fire. Happy dancers sway to the beat, and by their sides are a couple of the bolder lost boys moved with them. Tribe elders animatedly spin stories with big hand gestures and bigger laughter. Yummy meat and sticky sweets heap on top of massive wooden platters, and even the steam coming off of the food looks like it’s dancing with jubilance.

The centerpiece of it all sits atop a finely carved throne by the fire, draped with laurels and donning a crown of flowers. The beautiful Princess Tiger Lily giggles happily and claps along with the drummers. The lost boys rescued her, and in celebration, her tribe decided to hold a glorious feast. Of course, her brave rescuers had to be the guests of honor. After Seonghwa had his fill to eat and danced until he felt his feet might fall off, he took a seat by the fire.

The black-haired boy claps happily, staring idly into the blazing fire. It’s been a long day of adventure. They had to ambush the evil pirate captain’s crew to apprehend the princess. Things can never be easy for the lost boys, though. Swords crossed and wills clashed. But, as always, good triumphed, and the princess was saved. Now Seonghwa’s limbs feel heavy, and his eyelids start to droop.

He checks around the fire to find his fellow lost boys. A couple dance while another few have taken to joining the drummers. One of them has already gotten ahead of Seonghwa and snoozes away by one of the teepees. His gaze finds the princess Tiger Lily yet again, and a familiar pop of brilliant red rouses his attention.

Hongjoong’s eyes catch Seonghwa’s, and he returns Hwa’s look with one of his brilliant smiles. He has such a nice smile. Sometimes - though he’d never, ever admit it - it makes Seonghwa’s guts toss and turn with jealousy. He doesn’t like his smile. But Hongjoong has such a nice one. It’s the kind of smile that lights up everything around it. Hwa’s gaze shifts over once again to Tiger Lily. She’s about their age. Her face is round and she has long eyelashes. She also has a pretty smile. Does Hongjoong think so, too?

As if he can almost read Hwa’s mind, Hongjoong starts walking toward Seonghwa. He plops down happily next to the black-haired boy, crossing his legs and rocking back and forth.

“So,” Hongjoong says.

“So?” Seonghwa laughs.

“Whatcha doin’?” The redhead replies.

“Sitting.”

“How come you’re sitting talking to nobody?”

“Oh, you know. Just chillin’.”

“By the blazing fire.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Seonghwa laughs.

“Seonghwa, is something the matter?” Hongjoong’s grin falls into a rare expression of seriousness. He always prefers to keep things happy, lighthearted, good and fun. But sometimes even he can tone it down.

Hwa’s eyes go wide, and he shakes his head emphatically, “No, no nothing’s wrong at all! I mean, we, like, fed a guy to a crocodile. So that’s a thing to think about.”

“He was a bad guy, he deserves it. And he didn’t get eaten! Just got, like, sampled.”

Seonghwa giggles, “Sampled?”

“That croc took one bite of his butt and decided against it.”

“He probably tasted gross. All salty from the sea and everything.”

“Yeah, ugh. Like salt and sweat.”

“Oh- Ew! Blugh!” The two make gagging noises, dramatically fake-heaving until the dramatics devolve into a fit of laughter. The two fall onto the ground and laugh and laugh and laugh until it hurts too much.

Seonghwa sniffles, wiping his eyes as he splays out on the ground. Hongjoong does the same, and their gazes meet as their heads cock to the side.  Firelight traces the other’s frame, making him glow like a fairy. Even if he’s not a fairy, Hongjoong is definitely magical. Seonghwa is sure of that.

“Do you think Princess Tiger Lily is cute?” The words just throw themselves out of Seonghwa’s mouth before he can even properly think of them. What the heck?

Hongjoong’s face falls, and his brows knit together confusedly, “Princess Tiger Lily?” He glances at her for a second. A ghost of a frown tugs at his lips. At least, Seonghwa thinks he sees it. It could be a trick of the fire. The leader replies with a genial grin, “Princess Tiger Lily is very cute! I like the flowers in her hair, they’re super pretty, aren't they? And they smell good.”

Seonghwa’s throat feels dry, and he nods numbly. Even though he’s barely eleven, kids in school have been whispering about crushes for years. How long will it be until everyone starts pairing off and getting boyfriends and girlfriends? To be honest, the whole thing seems like a hassle to Seonghwa. Being friends is fun enough! He’s definitely not interested in that stuff. But what about Hongjoong?

“You’re cute, too, Seonghwa!” Hongjoong beams. 

Hwa’s face turns into an expression of shock, and heat flushes to his face. 

Joong laughs, “Why would you ask something like that, anyway?”

Suddenly, Seonghwa feels like the biggest idiot on the plant. He fidgets with his fingers awkwardly and fumbles through his truthful response.

“W-Well, like- In school you know people are already… They have crushes and stuff, you know. Like, girlfriend, boyfriends…”

“Girl… Friends? Boyfriends?” Hongjoong’s nose scrunches with puzzlement. “I- I don’t get it. I have boy and girl friends. There are lots of nice people in Neverland. Well, except for the pirates. And the mermaids, they're, like super evil.”

“N-No, like,” Seonghwa wishes the earth could swallow him up. He’s not gonna lie to Hongjoong, either, though. He trusts Hongjoong with his life. He’s helped Hwa out of so many sticky situations. He taught him how to fly. If anyone would understand, it’s Hongjoong. “Like, holding hands and- and-” His voice gets so low, even he can barely hear it, “-kissing. Gross adultey kinda stuff-”

Hongjoong’s eyes blow wide open. Seonghwa’s glad the other gets it, but before he can elaborate more, a tiny hand closes around his arm. Joong drags Hwa off of his feet and marches off into the woods. 

“Wha- Wait, Hongjoong where are we going?” Seonghwa asks. Hongjoong doesn’t answer right away. He just keeps on walking. They trudge through the forest, between tall trees and fat shrubs. Seonghwa practically trips a couple of times. It’s not until the fire is just a tiny flicker in the distance that they stop.

“H-Hongjoong,” Seonghwa hunches over to catch his breath. “What the heck is going on. Where- where are we? What are you doing-”

“Do you- do you wanna kiss Princess Tiger Lily?” The redhead asks demandingly, jabbing a finger at Seonghwa’s chest.

“What- No. What the- did you drag me out here just to ask me that?”

“But you were talking about the- all the ‘crush’ and the- the kissing-”

“What do you- I mean- No I was asking you that. If- If you, well, you know...”

Hongjoong’s face darkens. Even the air around him seems to chill. There’s no trace of the bubbly, bold leader. He leers at Seonghwa with a serious voice.

“No,” The redhead responds in a low voice. “That’s against the rules.”

“Huh?”

“The rules, Seonghwa. You know the one rule of Neverland.”

“The- the rule?”

“All that stuff the- the holding hands, the kissing.”

“Being in love?” Seonghwa tries to clarify.

“That’s for grown ups,” Hongjoong says. “And there’s no place in Neverland for that stuff, got it?”

“You can’t- you’re not allowed to be in love?” It’s not that Seonghwa even wants to, but hearing that he just can’t gives him a weird pain in the chest.

“No. Never,” Hongjoong says insistently. He steps forward and grabs Seonghwa’s hands. “Never ever. You have to promise me, okay?”

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll never fall in love. Never ever ever ,” He lets go of Hwa’s hands to hold out his pinky. “You gotta pinky promise me. You’ll never fall in love- not even a little bit.”

Seonghwa eyes the other’s pink dubiously. 

“But why?” It’s not like he’s a big romantic. He can’t stand when mama makes him sit through dramas or sappy movies. Kissing scenes gross him out half the time, and all the old married couples he knows can barely stand each other. But still, the prospect of just never falling in love ever…

Is that really a promise he can keep?

“Because,” Hongjoong replies, voice thicker than before, “Then you’ll have to leave, and I don’t want you to leave, Seonghwa. I don’t want to lose you. So please- please, you gotta promise.”

Seonghwa hesitantly lifts his hand, eyes darting between Hongjoong’s extended pinky and his wet eyes. 

“Seonghwa, please ,” The leader - always so confident, so resilient and charismatic and unaffected - sounds desperate. And how can Seonghwa deny his dear friend? The one who taught him how to fly? Who’s taken him on so many adventures, adventures he could only dream of.

Seonghwa locks his pinky with Hongjoong’s.

“I promise you,” Seonghwa says, confidently meeting the other’s gaze. “No- No crush or dating, girlfriends, boyfriends, none of that. Hongjoong, I’m never gonna grow up. We’re gonna be together forever.”

“Forever,” Hongjoong repeats with a nod. He smiles again - thank goodness he smiles. The sight brings so much relief to Seonghwa, it makes him smile.

“This is taking forever,” Mingi whines, plopping his head on the table. He and Seonghwa happened to have a similar gap in their schedules, so they use the time between classes to study together at the library. Or pretend to study, at least. Usually, their “study sessions” are primarily made up of Hwa trying to do homework and Mingi eating snacks while scrolling SNS.

“What is?” Seonghwa asks the other without looking up from his screen.

“This problem,” Mingi groans. “The homework is deceptive. There are forty-five questions, but then each question is, like: question part A, question part B, question part C, part E…”

“Well, I imagine it’s really just parts building on each other,” Hwa shrugs. He’s a tad more focused on reminding himself that neutrinos aren’t the Italian cousin of neutrons. “They’re probably, like, all the same type of problem. Or mostly. It’s probably more tedious than anything.”

“Thanks, professor,” Hwa can hear the pout in Mingi’s voice. He opts to ignore it, though. Mingi’s got a bratty streak, and Seonghwa refuses to indulge that. Mostly. “Wh- Oh, Oh. Oh- oh-” Suddenly, the younger one starts batting Seonghwa’s arm frenziedly from across the table.

“Wha- What the fuck, Mingi? What?”

“Shh- Shhh-”

“What-”

“Shhh!” Mingi hushes him insistently. “Okay,” His voice drops into a whisper, and his pupils flit around suspiciously. “Okay, don’t look, but there’s a hottie at your, uh…”

“A what at my what?”

“At your, like seven.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Seonghwa’s face squashes with bafflement.

“There is a hottie at your seven. A hottie. Hot person. Hot guy. A hot guy is at your seven. Your seven, you know like, behind you. Clock positions- How do you not know this have you not seen a spy movie?!”

“I- I have I was just confused!” Seonghwa loud-whispers back.

“Well, don’t make it obvious and look or anything, but- Like, he’s by a bookshelf right now. I think he’s checking you out.”

Seonghwa’s heart does a flip, “Serious?”

“Serious. Totally your type, too. Pretty face, oh, and red hair.”

“You’re not playing, right?” He wouldn’t put it past Mingi.

“Wh- Dude, I am serious. I would never joke about something as serious as getting your dick wet.”

“Thank you, Mingi,” Hwa replies facetiously. 

“But, like, if you’re not interested,” Mingi shrugs, smirking, “I’ll take him. He’s cute.”

“Fuck off. Bold of you to imply you don’t have a huge crush on San.”

“Wha- I do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too. Mingi you’re not subtle-”

“Shut up, he’s moving.”

“Who’s moving? San is moving?”

“No, idiot, the hot guy. Shit, I think he’s walking closer. Head down, head down-” Mingi actually pushes Seonghwa’s head further into his laptop - like that’s necessary. Seonghwa opens his mouth to curse his junior, but then a petite, lithe form passes by their table. They’re dressed simply. Jeans and a sweater, but the fit is impeccable - the jeans fit nice and the sweater sags in a comely way that shows off just how small the person is. Just as Mingi described, the look is topped off with a head of strawberry red hair. Except, it’s not highly saturated nor deep like Hwa tends to go for. Instead, it’s sort of a soft, springy tone. Seonghwa realizes he thinks that’s very nice, too. It provides a soft contrast for the person’s pretty porcelain skin.

Hwa has never met someone with hair color like that before - so why does the person seem so damn familiar? Did he live on Seonghwa’s floor at some point? Or maybe they had a class together? Has he seen him at a club?

“Huh-” Mingi mutters dumbly when Seonghwa bursts up out of his chair. The older’s legs seem to move of their own volition, really. “Wh- Seonghwa, are you serious?” Mingi sounds amused.

“I- I think I know him,” Hwa mutters, waving vaguely to Mingi as he slowly approaches the other, “I’ll be right back.” The last thing he hears out of Mingi is a snort before he follows the mysterious redhead into another section of the library.

The pretty figure turns a corner, and Seonghwa picks up speed. When he rounds the towering bookshelf, he gasps. The redhead is gone. All Hwa sees is a few disturbed specks of dust catching the sunlight. It's funny, how something as inane as disturbed dust can look like glitter in the right lighting. Still, it does nothing to point Hwa in the direction of the redhead.

Where the heck did he go?

A pang of sadness hits Seonghwa. He can’t tell why. Really it was nothing. Hell, he probably didn’t even know the dude. But he can’t help it. He feels his heart dip in his chest.

“Last one to the waterfall’s a rotten egg!” Hongjoong calls out abruptly. Seonghwa jolts up. They’d just docked their enchanted airship after once again thwarting the evil pirates from a nefarious fairy theft attempt. The lost boys exchange a few looks - but only for an instant. Hongjoong bolts, and in a flash everyone follows.

The crowd of rabble-rousers laugh and shout as they fly over the sandbar into the forest. Bugs and birds whistle happily as the lost boys pass as if invigorated by the wide-eyed energy. It’s such a far departure from when Seonghwa met Hongjoong. Was it a year ago? Goodness, it’s near two, he thinks. He’s almost twelve years old now.

The thought depresses him. After all, twelve is one away from thirteen. That’s a “teen” number, and with that rite of passage come too many questions. First and foremost in his mind: can a lost boy be thirteen, aka: technically a teenager? It’s something that’s passed through Hwa’s mind a few too many times already. He reminds himself that he’s not even twelve, it is way too soon to worry about that. Stubbornly shoving the thoughts aside, he focuses on flying again.

There are so many obstacles in the forest. Tall trees, branches, shrubs, vines… But that’s what makes the race even more fun. Everyone starts to branch off, taking their own, different paths. However, Seonghwa opts not to try for any special shortcuts or detours. Instead, he follows the trail of twinkling fairy dust left by Hongjoong. He can hear the other’s distinctive titter not too far ahead, and soon that signature red hair of his peeks out from between the trees.

“I got you!” Seonghwa shouts.

Hongjoong turns around, and his eyes widen, “How’d you know what way I flew?!”

“I’m just that good,” Seonghwa focuses all of his energy on moving forward, and the fairy dust carries him quickly toward the other. “I’m gonna catch you,” he singsongs.

“I don’t think so!” Hongjoong yells behind himself. He picks a fruit off a nearby tree and throws it at Hwa.

“Huh- Hey! You’re playing dirty!”

“Never said there were any rules against using obstacles.”

“Oh, really?” Seonghwa smirks. “In that case, how’s this for an obstacle?” He puts even more thought into pushing forward and he does so, quickly catching up to the other. Hongjoong gasps. It’s too late for him, though. Seonghwa grabs the other’s green shirt and tries to throw him back.

“Wh- Hey! I don’t think so!” Hongjoong laughs, grabbing Hwa’s wrist in one hand and Hwa’s shirt in the other. The two tangle in the air, neither willing to surrender or stop. The waterfall looms in the distance, calmly crashing into the creek below.

“C’mon, give up already!” Seonghwa insists with a giggle.

“Never give up, never surrender!” Hongjoong fires back with a grin. The two whip through the air, a mass of gracelessly flailing limbs and exclaimed taunts. 

The waterfall approaches rapidly. It gets closer and closer and closer, and it’s not until they’re at the edge of the clearing that Seonghwa finally notices.

“-m gonna be the winner!” Hwa shouts at the other for the umpteenth time. “I’m gonna- Uh-oh.” His face falls as he glances just ahead of them. That’s. That’s a waterfall. “Uh- Hongjoong-”

“What? Ready to surrender?”

“Hongjoong-”

“Because I’ll accept it-”

“Hongjoong- We have to- look out, we’re gonna crash!”

“Wha-?!” The redhead finally takes his focus off of Hwa just in time to watch the two careen into the waterfall. 

Loud crashing echoes through the normally serene clearing, and the force of the water sends the two into the creak below. Sound distorts, filling Seonghwa’s ear with the strange, muffled wobbly noise of water flowing into water. He holds onto Hongjoong for dear life. It’s not like the current is that intense, and there aren’t too many rocks at the bottom. Still, he worries. One of them could’ve gotten hurt!

When the two surface, they shake the water from their hair and wipe it from their eyes. For a brief moment, they don’t say a word. The two just check their surroundings and check each other. Nobody dead. Nothing broken. Good.

Then, they laugh. The two erupt into a fit of laughter as they laboriously lug themselves out of the crisp, cool water. They collapse into a giggling heap on a nearby rock, and it takes a couple of minutes to come down from the high. When they do a calm semi-silence falls between them. They let the crashing of the waterfall fill the space between them for a bit. It’s nice. So, so nice. Seonghwa wishes he could just lay like this forever. He cocks his head to the side, and his gaze meets Hongjoong. When they make eye contact, the two laugh again. 

That’s when Hwa notices a flash of red. Not from Hongjoong’s dripping hair, but from somewhere else - his arm.

“Joong, you’re bleeding,” Seonghwa sits up and frowns. He takes the leader’s arm without a second arm and wipes away at the blood to inspect.

“Huh?” The redhead’s gaze follows Hwa’s. “Oh, I didn’t even notice.”

It’s just a cut, thank god. But still, it needs some sort of medical assistance. Hongjoong can’t just bleed for hours until it scabs over!

Seonghwa scrutinizes the area in hopes of finding something helpful. By some freak miracle, a familiar succulent plant blooms just at the edge of the rock upon which they rest. Neverland is truly full of wonders, he thinks, because never in his life had he seen aloe sprouting out of a rock of all things. He yanks off one of the tentacley looking branches. Gooey gel seeps from the breaking point. Perfect, Seonghwa thinks. This has to help.

“Here,” Seonghwa says. He swipes away blood from Hongjoong’s cut and starts rubbing the aloe.

“Wh- What the heck is that?!” Hongjoong asks, his nose scrunching.

“This’ll help,” Seonghwa asserts, diligently spreading the goop across the cut. He’s not a hundred percent sure taht this is how aloe works, but it seems to be helping. Probably.

“Gross, it’s slimy! And it kinda tickles!” Joong shudders slightly.

“Says the guy who rolled around in mud two days ago,” Seonghwa snarks.

“Mud is different this is- this is…” Hongjoong trails off for some reason. He just sort of stops. That’s okay, Seonghwa thinks. Makes him a better patient, anyways. Joong quietly watches as Seonghwa liberally smears aloe gel everywhere. Something about it must be fascinating to him.

“See?” Seonghwa says, a little smile stretching across his face, “It feels better, right? It’s supposed to like, cool and relax skin and stuff. I’ve used it for sunburns before, but I think it’s just, like. Good for lotsa stuff.” When the plant seems spent enough, Seonghwa tosses the leaf-tentacle thing aside and tries to rub the gel in with his fingers more. He goes in little soothing circle motions and starts zoning out a bit himself. “I heard you can even eat it, too,” He chuckles and scrunches his nose, “I bet it tastes, like, oozey and gooey and-”

Without warning, Hongjoong yanks his arm out of Seonghwa’s grip, “That’s enough.” The redhead says tersely. His brows are knit together, and he’s got a big frown on his face. 

“Huh-?”

“I’m fine,” Hongjoong bursts up and starts walking away of all things. What the heck?

“H-Hongjoong is everything okay?” Seonghwa follows confusedly. Was it something he said? Maybe Joong has some weird phobia about slimy things? Did he hit his head? “Hongjoong is something else hurt-”

“I’m fine,” Hongjoong barks over his shoulder. He doesn’t even look at Seonghwa, and that brings tears to the black-haired boy’s eyes. What did he do?

“I’ll take it back,” Seonghwa says. “I’m sorry, I-” He reaches out to grab Hongjoong’s arm, but the redhead tears away from the older boy’s grip again.

“Don’t touch me!”

Seonghwa halts, and tears smudge his vision, “Hongjoong?”

“Just- Just stay away from me,” Joong sounds upset and angry.

“Hongjoong, what did I do?” Seonghwa cries.

Hongjoong stops and heaves a sigh. He still doesn’t look Hwa in the eye. Why can’t he even turn around and look at him? Seonghwa wonders where the heck he could’ve gone wrong. They were just laughing and playing. What happened ?

“Nothing,” Hongjoong answers in a shaky voice. “You didn’t do anything, I just-” His voice ignites again with fiery anger, “I don’t want you touching me and stuff.”

Seonghwa can feel his heart splinter, but he stubbornly swallows down the lump in his throat, “O-Okay. I’m… I’m sorry.” He sniffles.

Seonghwa wakes with a start. His chest aches, and his eyes feel sticky and puffy. He sniffs loudly. 

Another sad dream.

This is the third- no, the fourth time this week. He keeps having them, and he can’t figure out why. They’re all the same, or they’re all sort of the same. He can never quite remember them upon waking up, but hazy memories manage to stick. After the second time, he started trying to write them down.

Seonghwa rushes to unlock his phone so he can unload what few memories of the nightmare he has into his notes app. It’s barely anything to go by, but the similarity to his previous bad dream is astounding. A red-haired boy, a faraway tropical island, flying. This one was different, though. He distinctly remembers crashing. That’s about it, though.

Hwa makes a mental note to go on one of those dream interpretation sites sometime soon. This is getting bothersome, and the repetition points to the fact that this clearly means something, but what?

Just as Seonghwa starts tapping the address to a dream symbolism site, his phone rings. It’s his supervisor. The RA frowns. What could he possibly want this early? Still, ever the dutiful worker bee, Seonghwa answers as genially as possible.

“Hey, what’s up?” He greets his sup, trying not to sound too annoyed.

“Hey Seonghwa, did you get my email about the transfer?”

Email? Transfer? Seonghwa paces over to his desk and opens his laptop, navigating to his email, “Uh- I might have and I just don’t remember it… I think I checked my email last night- when did you send it?”

“It was pretty late, sorry about that. But this is urgent. Did you hear about the disaster yesterday in the southside dorms?”

“Uh- Y’know what, I think I did, actually. One of my buddies told me when we were getting dinner. Some, like, water damage or something?”

“Oh, if only it was just ‘some water damage’. There was some catastrophic pipe failure that essentially flooded two floors in the building.”

“Wh- Two floors?!” Seonghwa gasps. “How does that even happen?”

“I have no idea. A freak accident, I guess. Anyway, check your email. Obviously, the students who’d been living on those floors can’t reside there. There’s just a ton of issues with the building structure, pipes- not to mention mold and mildew problems what with the water seeping into all the carpet.”

“Oh crap,” Hwa wrings a hand through his hair as the cogs in his brain start working. “So these students are getting spread out to all the other dorms, aren’t they.”

“Yup.”

Seonghwa finally finds the email sent late the previous night. Just as his supervisor said: there’s been catastrophic water damage, almost a hundred students have been displaced and will be redistributed into dorms throughout the campus. Two dozen of them are going to Seonghwa’s building, and one will be on his floor. Cool.

“How is this gonna work?” Seonghwa asks.

“Well, our suites were originally made to fit four to a bedroom. We reduced it to two for lifestyle adjustments, but we technically have the building allowance for more. Your newbie is transferring over some time this afternoon- he’s got morning classes, I think. He’ll be in suite… Three... Twenty-four.”

“Alright,” Seonghwa double checks his day’s calendar as he burns the number into his memory: 324, 324. It’s easy enough. Close to him, just across the hall, the second dorm to the right. Seonghwa tries to put faces to the guys there, but he can’t. If he recalls, they’re almost never there, their door isn’t open. Probably in lots of clubs or athletes, he muses. “Do you know exactly what time he’ll be moving? I’d like to be here if I can.”

“Lemme see… About one o’ clock, looks like.”

“One… I can do that. I’ve got a class that lets out at twelve-thirty then nothing until three, so I’ll be here.”

“Good, good. Thank you for taking this on so suddenly.”

“It’s my job,” Hwa chuckles. “And this poor guy’s room got flooded. He deserves a break.” Hopefully, he’s not another stoner, Seonghwa thinks.

“Awesome, thanks Seonghwa.”

“No problem. Need anything else?”

“Nope, that was it. Just make sure that guy knows the rules and has a good transition. It’s gotta be tough moving at this point in the semester.”

“For sure. Thanks for the call, see you.”

Seonghwa heaves a hefty sigh when the line goes cuts. Not exactly how he’d planned on spending his afternoon, but whatever. He does feel bad for whoever got their shit soaked. Nice and not a druggie, please - Seonghwa prays to whatever gods are listening. That’s all he asks for really. Emphasis on not a druggie.

God, Seonghwa wonders: when did the standards for humanity dip so low?

Sweat drips down Seonghwa’s back and neck as he takes the stairs two at a time. He got caught up in particle physics asking his TA a question. It’s now almost ten after one, and he’s late for the new guy’s move-in after swearing up and down he’d be there. Sure, others are gonna be present to help him with his stuff, too, but still. The RA tries to stuff down the guilt when he finally reaches the third floor. His room’s on the way, and he literally throws his backpack into the door before slamming it shut and striding over to suite 324. 

Hwa prays he doesn’t look nearly as ragged and gross as he feels. He straightens up his posture and strolls into the open door, casual as ever. A couple of campus assistants and front desk workers help unload a few last things from the rolling laundry cart the campus uses for dorm moves. 

“Hey,” Seonghwa breathes out, “Sorry I’m late.” He eyes the suite. It’s four rooms with two (well, now one has three ) each that all join to a single common area with a bathroom. Seems like newbie’s rooming at the far end of the hallway.

“Don’t worry about it,” One of the assistants waves dismissively, “He doesn’t have a ton of stuff to move. But if you really feel guilty,” The sophomore student plops a fabric basket into Hwa’s arms, “You can move the last of it.”

Seonghwa chuckles sheepishly, “Yeah, just take it out of the cart, I got this.” He grins, waving goodbye to the benevolent assistants. Anticipation dances in his chest as he approaches the open door. For some reason, he feels anxious. One would think he was used to introductions by now. God knows he’s done dozens of them, walked newbies through ice breaker after ice breaker, sat through multiple training events and campuswide dorm employee conferences. Yet he can’t shake the strange, jittery feeling in his stomach as he approaches the threshold.

“Hey,” Seonghwa starts in his soft, introductory voice. “Sorry, I was running late from class, but I’m Park Seonghwa, your RA. I’m just across the hall, a couple doors down-” Hwa chokes on that last word. He doesn’t even remember the rest of his spiel. His mind goes blank when the new guy emerges from the shared walk-in closet, wide-eyed and cheeks ruddy red from hauling stuff.

They’re almost redder than his hair. 

His pinky, sort of strawberry-red hair.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Seonghwa blurts out. Way to go - he scolds himself - now he’s gonna think you’re hitting on him. The new guy looks about just as uncomfortable as Seonghwa, which does nothing to improve the situation.

Like a deer in the headlights, the new move-in shakes his head wordlessly with eyes wide, “N… No, I don’t think so.” He sounds clipped. Shit, he probably gets that ‘do I know you’ routine all the time being as cute as he is. He’s probably sick of it. Talk about a shitty first impression.

“A-Are you sure?” Seonghwa would usually not press this sort of thing, but seriously, this guy looks really familiar. “You’re not- You’re not in the astronomy major, are you?”

“Uh, no,” The other shakes his head. “Geomatic engineering, actually.”

“Geo-What?”

The guy laughs wryly, “It’s- It’s like very interdisciplinary. We, um, apply technology to intake and analyze spatial data about the earth. Like- Digital maps. Um, charts that show the earth’s tectonic activity.”

“Like… Meteorology?”

“No. We might help develop the tech and software that they use, though? It’s kind of a newer field.”

“Right on,” Seonghwa nods. Damn. He’s pretty but smart. “Uh- Sorry, I, um- Your basket-” He extends it awkwardly toward the other. “Where do you want it?”

“Um, oh, you can-” The redhead waves behind him, in between the cramped bunk and single bed. “You can put it somewhere there.”

“Got it,” Seonghwa obliges, setting it down in the narrow space between the two beds. Something lustrous catches the light and in doing so catches his attention. It’s not that Hwa wants to be a snoop, but it inadvertently happens. Before he can think better of it, Seonghwa reaches into the basket and withdraws a delicate glass bottle. A glowy gold substance swirls inside mysteriously. It’s so… Different. It’s dense yet somehow appears light, and though Seonghwa hardly moves it, the odd mix between liquid and powder twirls and tosses inside its glass confines. The gold specks catch the sunlight brilliantly, reflecting a full spectrum of color prettily. The bottle must have been sitting in the sun or something because there’s a warmth emanating from it.

Hwa turns the bottle around in his hand, and his brows raise upon reading the hand-written label, “Fairy dust.”

“What did you say?” The new guy pops out of the closet again.

“Wh- Oh, I- I’m so sorry,” Seonghwa gasps. Yikes. Caught red-handed. “I just- It was so pretty, I ended up picking it up, I’m- I’m really sorry. I just- What is this?”

“It’s, um,” The guy looks down hesitantly, worrying at his lower lip. Ears tinted pink, he mutters his answer shyly, “Uh- Highlight.”

“Highlight?”

“Y- Y’know to, um,” The redhead makes a gesture with his finger, swiping up his cheekbone. It takes Seonghwa an embarrassingly long minute to understand what he meant.

“Oh! Oh, right, highlight I-” Seonghwa lets out a pained laugh. “I thought for a second it was like for- for paper. Like the markers, um- wow. I’m so stupid, and you probably think I’m a klepto or something.”

“No! No, you’re fine. I get it. It’s really… Enchanting isn’t it? It just sort of draws you in.”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa nods, his gaze briefly falling on the bottle again, “Yeah it is. That’s- It’s awesome, that you do that, by the way. Like- You know we promote nothing but tolerance and respect and- and for me as an RA that is not just talk. The guys in this suite are pretty chill I think. Honestly, I think I’ve seen them once or twice all semester. They’re not in much, but if they give you shit for expressing yourself, please talk to me.”

Good. Things are back on track. The whole RA introduction thing. That was supposed to happen. Seonghwa gently sets the pretty bottle back in the new guy’s basket and approaches the redhead.

“Let me introduce myself a bit better. I’m Park Seonghwa, your RA. I’m here to make sure everyone stays in line, but I’m also here to keep you safe and help you out if you’ve got any questions. Or if you just need someone to talk to- not that, like, I don’t think you have friends or anything. I just- My door is open, okay? Like. Literally, I keep it open most evenings when I’m in.”

Hongjoong laughs at the lame remark, “You take your job way more seriously than any RA I know.”

Seonghwa feels heat prick his cheeks, and he shrugs, “I don’t like to half do things, I guess? I mean- Trust me I’m really pretty relaxed. Just, please, don’t do drugs during my rounds. Or at all, really. Don’t do drugs, stay in school.”

Hongjoong laughs more. It’s a bubbly, effervescent sound that’s contagious, and Hwa stifles a giggle of his own. When the laughter quiets, the air between them grows a bit thick and uncomfortable. Seonghwa swears he’d prepared for this. There’s something about rules that he should be saying right now. What was it again?

“Um-” Hwa coughs awkwardly, “Like, I think I’m supposed to give you a briefing of the rules, but you, like, lived in a dorm already, so… Any questions?”

“Let me see,” Hongjoong bites his lip and looks up in pretend-thought, “Um, you already covered don’t do drugs. Stay in school, I got that. No loud noises after ten o’ clock. No parties, um… Did I miss anything?”

“Non-residents aren’t allowed outside of certain building hours. Keep that in mind if you’ve got guests. No alcohol in the fridge, no vaping, either, oh- and like I said, we have a zero-tolerance policy for harassment. Then I’m sure you know all the little things like no guns, no bombs, no meth labs, no candles, no blacklisted appliances.”

“Yup.”

“Awesome, cool. I’m gonna grab another basket, I had them finish unloading in the common area.”

“Actually, um, Seonghwa, it’s okay,” Hongjoong says. “I’ve got it. I know you’ve probably got better stuff to do. It’s just a couple of little baskets.”

“No, I insist-”

“Really it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, being alone helps me-” The redhead gestures to the bedroom animatedly, “-feng shui better. Y’know. Gotta work my magic.”

Seonghwa lets out a laugh. It’s probably one of the nicer ways he’s been told to fuck off. He gets it. This guy’s probably just indulging his awkwardness because Hwa’s got the authority to write him up.

“Well it’d be a shame if I interfered with your ‘magic’, so I’ll leave you be,” Seonghwa waves, giving the redhead a genial smile. His heart glows when the other returns with one of his own. It’s so, so pretty that smile. The brilliance is almost blinding.  “Have a good day, Hongjoong. Just let me know if you’ve got any questions. I’m across the hall, second door to the right.”

Hwa tries to shake the strange onset of nerves he’d gotten as he walks out. It’s a weird sensation like his nerves are doing a jaunty dance underneath his skin.

“Seonghwa!” Hongjoong calls out from the bedroom right as Hwa reaches the suite door.

The RA quirks a brow and glances at the redhead peeking out into the hall, “Hm? Did you need something?”

Hongjoong appears to consider his words for a moment before speaking. If Seonghwa didn’t know any better, he would even say the guy looks anxious. But why would he be anxious? Perhaps Hwa made a worse first impression than he thought.

The redhead asks, “I, um, I never introduced myself to you.”

“Oh! No, that’s okay. I’m really not into all that formal stuff-”

“No, I mean… How did you know my name?”

Seonghwa’s mask of genial professionalism falters. Something hits him in the chest. How did he know his - Hongjoong’s, that is - name?

“It… Must’ve been in the email I got. We, um, us RAs got an email.”

“Oh,” Hongjoong’s eyes go wide, and he nods. He lets out a shamed chuckle, “Right. Sorry, um- Sorry for- That sounded weird. I’m gonna…”

“Yeah. Work your magic,” Seonghwa says. “And after you’re done, maybe you should get some rest.”

“Yeah. Uh-huh. B-Bye Seonghwa.”

“Bye, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa gives a last wave and conciliatory smile before leaving the suite. The second the door shuts behind him, the facade falls.

He lied.

He barely skimmed that email, and he sure as hell doesn’t remember a list of names anywhere. He’s gotta know Hongjoong from somewhere. 

“You sure you don’t know him?” Seonghwa practically pleads with Yeosang at this point.

“Seonghwa, do I look like I know what the fuck ‘geomatic engineering’ is?” Yeo answers dryly.

Seonghwa deflates, “Well it could’ve been even just through a mutual friend, or at a party, or a club activity? Orientation?”

“God you are so thirsty,” San snickers. “Dude, let it go. You probably just saw him walking across campus or something.”

Hwa groans. He flops back down on Yeosang. He, Yeo, San and Wooyoung met up in one of the courtyards to laze around the lawn and cry about exams. The wild thing about midterms is that once they start, they never seem to stop. There’s always someone in some class with a midterm this week or the next. It could almost be a folky horror story: the uncanny, perpetual bombardment of crucial examinations plaguing them.

“You don’t understand San, I think I, like, know this guy. Is it weird I feel like we used to be friends or something?”

“Yes! Yes, it is!” San responds, throwing his hands up. 

“Y’know what, I’ll play devil’s advocate here,” Wooyoung says. “Let’s say Hwa does know the guy. Maybe it’s not from college, though. Like you might’ve taken an exam at the same site as him in high school. Maybe you got in a chat. Or what if your parents, like, went to the same park and you used to play with him in elementary?”

“For once,” Yeosang chuckles, “Woo’s not completely full of shit. If that’s the truth, though, you’ve got a crazy good memory, man.”

Seonghwa pouts. Hongjoong’s been on his floor for just over a week. Surely he should be over the nagging feeling by now, but he’s not. He just can’t stop thinking about it. Every time he sees suite 324, the thought bubbles up to the forefront of his head. Whenever he sees red hair, he has to do a double-take. It’s torture. He just wants to know. 

“Okay, enough of this,” San says, “Instead of guessing, how about we actually see for ourselves.” He draws his phone out of his hoodie pocket and brandishes it triumphantly. “We have the technology.”

“Oh, good call!” Wooyoung laughs, doing the same. The others quickly follow suit, and soon all four of them are tapping away, searching every SNS they can think of.

Minutes pass in relative silence. Slowly, a cloud of dejection rolls in above the initially optimistic bunch. It’s San, the brilliant brain with the idea, who’s the first to break the sad silence.

“You said his name is Kim Hongjoong, right?” San asks.

“Yes,” Seonghwa glares at his own phone as if giving it a dirty look will give him answers. “Kim Hongjoong. I’ve said it twenty times.”

“Okay- Are you sure, though? Like, how is it spelled?”

“What do you mean how is it spelled? It’s spelled how it sounds. It’s not that hard.”

“Nah, I agree with him,” Yeosang mutters. “This can’t be right, I’m coming up with jack shit for this guy. That can’t be his real name.”

“It’s what’s on all of his college shit,” Seonghwa shrugs. “What, d’you think he enrolled under a fake name or something?”

“Or,” Yeo replies, “He uses an alias online.”

“If that’s the case we’re super fucked,” Wooyoung purses his lips. “Because he’s not on any of the normal apps. Wait- Wait lemme check one more,” He murmurs before tapping the icon of an infamous guy/guy hookup app.

“I tried creeping on your high school’s old facebook group and stuff,” Detective San says. “He definitely didn’t go to your school.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Seonghwa replies flatly. He appreciates the effort, but now he feels kind of silly for even bringing his friends into his weird obsession. Not that he’s obsessed obsessed. He’s not obsessed in a weird way. Just very, very curious and perhaps a bit too bothered.

“Hwa, what are his interests?” Yeosang asks.

“Hm?” Seonghwa raises his eyebrows. Not like he’s had any in-depth conversations with the redhead. He’s only spoken to him once. Hasn’t even caught the guy in passing ever since. “Uh-“ He tries to remember every little detail he remembers about Hongjoong based on their short encounter. “He likes makeup.”

“Oh!” Yeo’s mouth makes an “o” shape as the “aha” moment dawns on him. “Okay, okay, a guy who likes makeup, in this area… I’m guessing you mean more than, like, your average corrective BB cream?”

“Yeah, I mean, he didn’t look to be wearing heavy makeup, but he had this bottle of, like highlighter. It looked expensive. Plus he seems sort of… Style conscious in general, I guess. Dresses for his figure, trendy clothes.”

“Okay, well, that- that can narrow it down,” San says. He starts tapping away furiously.

Yeosang claps loudly and beams, “Got him.”

“What? Are you serious?” Wooyoung throws his hands up in defeat - apparently, their lurkathon had been a competition. Who knew.

Yeo grins ear to ear, “At least, I have a picture of him.” The brunette throws his phone down in the center like he’s showing off the winning hand of a poker game. On screen is a picture of a group of students. There are mostly girls, save for a few guys who look similar to Hongjoong - handsome and impeccably dressed. Someone front and center in the picture holds a graffiti style banner:

“Fashion Production Club”

“Jackpot!” Wooyoung - now over his devastation - joins Yeosang in creeping on the FPC’s social networks. “This is the club that, like, puts on a fashion show every year, right?”

“I think so, yeah,” Seonghwa nods. 

Armed with new information, the four of them get to work “investigating”. This time it’s San, however, who lands on pertinent information first.

San reads off, “FPC Member Spotlight - this was posted, like, a month ago by the way - Kim Hongjoong- that’s your man!”

“He’s- He’s not my man!” Seonghwa covers his face. He’s starting to really regret even saying anything.

“Anyways,” San ignores the eldest and keeps going, “Blah, blah, blah… New transfer, joined this year… Geometrics Engineering major, dreams of hunting for treasure for reals one day. Loves to reform and upcycle new clothes, breathing new life into old garments… He’s a scorpio- oh my .”

“Wow, so he’s new here,” Seonghwa remarks. That’s… Different. He’s not sure what he expected to hear, but something about the other being a recent transfer is off. 

“See, okay, so most of these spotlights will link the socials of whoever they’re highlighting. Like if you look at the one the week before she dropped everything - insta, snap… Like almost every other one provides some sort of link except for him.”

“So he just doesn’t use social media- wait, I lied!” San gasps dramatically. “He has one SNS linked. You’ll never guess what it is?”

“Myspace?” Yeosang jokes.

San snorts, “He’s got a pinterest.”

“Oh… I dunno about that, Hwa,” Wooyoung purses his lips.

“Hey, everyone’s got flaws!” Yeosang argues. “And if hottie’s only flaw is that he likes mood board and bad life hacks, I mean, Seonghwa could do a lot worse.”

“Thank you for standing up for me,” Hwa rolls his eyes. He scoots over to San, checking the younger’s phone screen. “So, the pinterest…”

“Oh, we have to check,” San grins ear to ear. “A man’s boards say a lot about him. Is he a life hacks guy? Or, like, more of a food porn person? Let’s find out!” San singsongs, tapping the top board.

Seonghwa would be on the edge of his seat if he had one. He holds his breath as solid rectangles populate the screen. San, ham that he is, decides the narrate the entire thing - as if Hwa isn’t watching the stupid pinterest page with bated breath.

“What’s this board called?” San asks rhetorically. “Okay, so this one is… Faith, trust and fairy dust- aw! That’s so cute!”

“Hmm,” Yeosang squints a bit, not hiding his distaste.

“Shut up, Yeo, nobody asked,” San snaps. “Let’s see and the pics… Here we go!”

Seonghwa lets out a breath as he drinks in the pictures of the board like it’ll give him profound insight. It’s an interesting board. A gorgeous collection of images with varying subject matters. There are a lot of textural shots of just glitter. It sort of reminds Hwa of Hongjoong’s fairy dust highlight. There are rainbows and clear, cloudy skies interspersed with shots of the sea. A lot of images seem to be of tropical islands - beaches, rainforests, towering palms, and dense underbrush. Then there are shots of the night sky, uninterrupted starscapes. They’re arranged deliberately, complimenting those adjacent thoughtfully. 

San gives his verdict, “Not a terrible aesthetic. Kind of pinterests like a teenage girl, but whatever.”

“He’s not straight,” Wooyoung adds astutely. "I got that from his board."

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says sarcastically. “You are all so, so helpful.” He sighs. This yielded little. Knowing he’s in the FPC at least gleans a bit about him. He’s creative. It’s sort of surprising. One wouldn't think someone so artsy wants to go into geometrics, but Hwa supposes people have many facets.

“You’re welcome,” San grins. “I’ll keep you posted if I dig anything else up.”

“Uh, that’s fine,” Seonghwa says. “You really don’t have to.”

“Oh but I do. You’ve opened the floodgates and now I’m going full Sherlock on this dude whether you like it or not. You’d be amazed what you can find for free on the internet with only a first and last name.”

Seonghwa’s face scrunches with displeasure, “Remind me to never cross you.”

San just responds with a kissy face which is fairly apt. After insistent urging, the clique finally moves on from the topic of Seonghwa’s crush that’s not really a crush. Hwa can’t stop thinking about Hongjoong, but it’s more to do with the fact that he can’t shake the feeling of familiarity. Okay so, he’s cute and seems like an alright guy. But that is completely beside the point.

That doesn’t explain the way Seonghwa’s heart wrenches when he looks into the other’s eyes. For lack of a better way to put it, it feels like a pang of regret. Like seeing an ex that you wished you never left or a friend you’d lost touch with.

“Maddox, you’re awfully friendly today,” Seonghwa pouts at the glimmering fairy perched on his shoulder. He’s never trusted that fairy. Sure, he seems all cute and innocent at a glance, but he’s got an evil side. Why, when he and Hongjoong first met, Maddox couldn’t stand Seonghwa. Hwa could not for the life of him figure out why. He hadn’t even said a word to the fairy except for complimenting his pretty wings. Even so, Maddox glowed red with fury when Seonghwa first met Hongjoong.

Whatever grudge the fae had developed, he held onto for, well, until now evidently. Maybe he’s just basking in Seonghwa’s misery. Yes, that seems a likely scenario. Seonghwa sighs, hoping the big exhale will blow the taunting pixie away. It doesn’t. The soft ringing indicates the fairy’s speech. Even after years of visiting Neverland, Seonghwa still can’t understand Maddox the way Hongjoong does. Nobody can.

The black-haired boy kicks idly at the dirt atop the gorge. He got delegated to watch out duty - as if the dastardly pirates would be so foolish as to venture into mermaid territory! As dumb as they are, they don’t have a death wish. Hongjoong, on the other hand, does. At least, that’s what Seonghwa told him when the leader proposed they enter mermaid’s gorge to steal back one of the lost boys’ favorite baubles. On one hand, it speaks to just how oversized Joong’s heart is. For his small body, he really fits a lot of kindness in there. On the other, it speaks to just how naive he is. Seonghwa used to enjoy going on risky adventures, but lately, their missions have been reckless for him. He finds himself worrying more about their leader than anyone else. It feels bad.

It feels so… Grown up.

Isn’t that a mom’s job? To worry about everything and act like the kids can’t competently do anything? That they’re bound to get hurt or mess up?

But now he’s feeling this way, and it’s awful. Seonghwa wishes he could turn back time. He doesn’t live in Neverland, if he did, he wouldn’t have to worry about growing up. Except for that means he would never see his mom again - or his dad, brother, or friends from school either.

Little tinkering noises ring by Seonghwa’s ear, drawing his attention. It’s Maddox. Initially, Hwa thought the fairy was laughing at him for being a crybaby. Then he takes a closer look at Maddox’s little round face. The fairy gestures wildly, gasping and pointing down toward the gorge.

Is something the matter?

Seonghwa’s gaze follows Maddox’s direction, and his eyes go wide. The lost boys climb out one by one, clearly soaked and exhausted. But Hongjoong…

“Where’s Hongjoong?!” Hwa calls down worriedly.

One of the boys huffs and puffs, hacking water, “He’s- I thought he was behind us. L-Leader? Leader?!” The other five follow suit. Everyone looks around, panicked, calling out their leader’s name. But there’s no answer.

“H-Hongjoong?” Seonghwa calls down below. His voice echoes all the way down the gorge. “Hongjoong?!” He feels heat prickle his eyeballs, but he refuses to cry. He is not gonna cry. “Guys I’m gonna look further down! I’ve got a better view up here!”

Making good on his word, Hwa runs down the edge of the gorge, checking every ripple and bubble in hopes of finding the redhead. The five minutes it takes him to find Joong feel like five hours. Thankfully, that red hair is totally unmistakeable.

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa shouts. The other bobs limply in the gorge’s weak current. “Oh no- Hongjoong, I’m- I’m coming!” Without another thought, Hwa leaps off the edge of the gorge. He can hear Maddox’s manic ringing as he no doubt yells some kind of curses or calls him an idiot. Seonghwa doesn’t care. That’s Hongjoong there, beat up and floating around in mermaid turf.

Hwa hits the water with a loud splash, and cold seeps into his skin. He doesn’t even care, using those swimming lessons mom got him to the best of his ability. Seonghwa kicks and paddles like his life depends on it. His doesn’t, but Joong’s does, and that’s just about as urgent in his eyes. 

He wraps an arm around Hongjoong’s shoulder when he reaches him and paddles to shore frantically. Seonghwa drags his friend up the rocks until he’s confident a mermaid can’t leap out of the water and yank them down. 

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asks the other, shivering. Dang. As hot as it is outside, it sure is cold in that water. Hwa slaps the other’s face a bit, but no dice. “Hongjoong? Hongjoong please-“ He slaps the other harder. Seonghwa vaguely remembers seeing some water rescue videos during his swimming class. One time he got invited to a pool party when he was eight, and a girl there hit her head on the side of the pool. He tries to remember what the adults did to rescue her.

Hwa turns Hongjoong on his side and slaps his back. Maybe that’ll knock the water out? He sort of remembers seeing people, like, compress a person’s tummy. Then there’s mouth to mouth. Gross! There’s no way he’d ever do that to Joong. Or anyone, for that matter.

“Come on, come on idiot,” Seonghwa murmurs, roughly smacking the other’s back. It’s not working, though. “Come on! Hongjoong! W-Wake up, Joong! Hongjoong wake up! P-Please!”

Hongjoong suddenly comes to life, hacking and coughing his guts up. He throws up water until there’s nothing left. He shivers, and Seonghwa rubs his arms to try and warm him up. When that doesn’t seem to work, he just hugs the other. 

He frantically starts stuttering, “Wh- Wha- Happen? What happened?! The- The lost boys-“

“They’re fine,” Seonghwa says. “Just down the bank. We’ll get moving, too, in a minute.”

“O… Okay,” Usually Joong would gripe about how he’s “fine” and stuff. The concession is rare. Instead, Hongjoong’s body turns into jelly in Seonghwa’s arms. The older one has to hoist him up so they can sit up, the smaller one nestled between his legs, head resting against his shoulders.

“What happened back there?” Seonghwa asks.

Hongjoong weakly lifts his fist. He unclenches it to reveal a tiny little stuffed puppy dog key chain. It belongs to one of the lost boys, the one with dimples.

“Had to get this,” Joong says. “They didn’t wanna let us go. But we beat ‘em. Couldn’t let them mess with one of my lost boys.”

“Seems like they messed with you,” Seonghwa adds dryly. 

Hongjoong giggles at that and pinches Hwa’s nose, “Shut up. We won, and that’s what counts.”

“Not if you get brain damage from oxygen deprivation!” 

“That’s… A lot of big words. Too many fancy words for my brain right now.”

“Heh, sorry,” Seonghwa apologizes. “I’m just saying we should probably stay away from those mermaids. They’re super mean and scary. At least the pirates are dumb- the mermaids are way smart. They actually pose a threat.” He sighs, looking down at the sorry sight of his leader. He looks paler than usual, and the water’s made his usually bright hair look darker, faded almost. Hongjoong has been weird lately, but he’s still Hwa’s most precious friend. Hwa frowns down at the redhead and hugs him closer. He doesn’t know what else to do.

“Hongjoong, I don’t wanna lose you,” Seonghwa breathes out. “Please be careful.”

“I…” There’s a hint of protest in his voice, but it drops. “I’m trying.” He brings a hand up to squeeze Hwa’s. “I just- It’s like our job to protect Neverland and the good people in it, you know?”

“Yeah, but, if you get drowned by a mermaid, how’re you gonna do that? From the afterlife?”

“Yes!” Hongjoong jumps up suddenly, turning around so he’s facing Seonghwa. “And when I’m dead, I’m gonna haunt you first!” He lunges forward and tackles Seonghwa onto the wet, rocky bank. 

“Ahh! Hongjoong!” Seonghwa half-heartedly wrestles the other as he jabs fingers into his most vulnerable ticklish spots.

“Rawr!” Joong growls playfully, “I’m gonna eat your brains, Seonghwa!”

“No-! I need those, for school!”

“Live in Neverland forever, and you’ll never need your brains again! Rawr!” He starts jabbing his fingers around blindly and biting Seonghwa everywhere. 

“Ow! Ow- Hongjoong-” Seonghwa giggles. “Hongjoong!” He bats at the other noncommittally. It’s hard to focus on anything when he’s being tickled so much. All he can do is laugh and try not to pee himself.

“You’re my human! All mine!” 

“Sto- Hongjoong, you’re tickling me I- Hongjoong it hur-hurts!” Seonghwa’s guts split from laughing. It’s not fair! Hongjoong knows all the right spots, and he’s totally abusing his powers. “I thought you were supposed to be the good guy!”

“Not anymore, I’m the overlord of the dead. My tribe is no longer the lost boys but the dead boys, and you shall join their ranks forever!” Hongjoong speaks between bites and prods and jabs. “You’ll get buried here in Neverland alongside the other lost boys- mwahaha!”

“Joong! You’re so scary!” 

“Good!” Hongjoong bites Seonghwa’s ears and shoulder, making the now older boy yelp. “You shall live the out the rest of eternity as my undead soldier!”

Seonghwa wiggles and weakly shoves at the other, “No-! I don’t wanna eat brains! I like chips too much!”

“Too bad!” Hongjoong laughs, squeezing and squishing his face. “You’re mine! Mine!” It seems like the exhaustion is starting to set in, because Hongjoong finally starts to slow down. Thank god, Hwa thinks. He needs a break. In spite of nearly getting drowned, Hongjoong perseveres.

The redhead, more weakly now, still laughs, “You’re mine, Seonghwa! You’re- you’re mine…” His bites diminish until he’s doing nothing more than a press of the lips against skin, and his ticklish pokes stagnate. “You’re all… You’re all mine, Seonghwa…” He trails off dazedly.

When the dizziness from laughter clears from Hwa’s head, his laughter fades. He just lays on the rocks and lets it happen. He’s happy to. Giddy even. Now he feels dizzy but in a different sort of way, a way he’s only heard stories about or seen on television. Hongjoong just keeps kissing him. He presses his lips against Hwa’s shoulders and cheeks and neck and stuff.

Is this still part of make-believe?

Are they still playing?

It doesn’t feel like it anymore.

Seonghwa’s heard about it. He’s not even a teenager yet, but others in his class do this kinda stuff. It always felt too soon, too fast when he heard about it. But now…? He’s not so sure about that. He really isn’t sure about anything. He feels kinda woozy - but not in a bad way.

This isn’t allowed.

It’s against the rules. 

So why is Hongjoong kissing him all over and just saying “you’re mine” like in some sappy black and white movie?

And why is Seonghwa enjoying it?

The weird spell dissipates abruptly. Seonghwa knows he ought to feel relieved, but it just tints his insides with a sick, sour feeling. 

Hongjoong halts. Slowly, the redhead sits up. His mouth is agape and eyes are wide. Behind those dark orbs, it’s clear to see: utter devastation. It’s like Hongjoong just murdered him like he was pretending to, and he just now realized what he’d done. His expression is one of disgust, and not once has Seonghwa ever had to see that directed at him.

He wants to cry.

“H-Hongjoong?” Seonghwa squeaks out weakly.

The redhead doesn’t answer. He trudges off in the opposite direction. Seonghwa scrambles onto his feet after the leader.

“Hongjoong?” He calls out again. Following the other is hard, the rocks are slippery and shifty. “Hongjoong wait-!”

“Just- Just stay away from me, Seonghwa!”

“But, Hongjoong it’s-”

“Stay away!” Hongjoong’s voice booms across the gorge. It’s so imposing that Seonghwa stops.

Still, he pleads with the leader,“Hongjoong, it’s- it’s-”

“Just- Just tell the others I’m alright.”

“But Hongjoong-!”

“I- I need to go. Need to fly,” Hongjoong says. “Maddox!” He barks up the gorge. A little twinkle flies down to join the leader. Hwa just barely makes out the little tinkling sound. He cannot understand what Maddox’s sounds mean precisely, but he’s come to know the fairy’s tone. Maddox doesn’t seem the least bit happy. Hongjoong quarrels until the fairy relents, sprinkling the leader with fairy dust.

“Wait, Joong, you’re just gonna- gonna go-?!” Seonghwa hollers as the other’s body floats up.

“I- I need to- I have something to- to do-”

“Hongjoong!”

“Just- Just- Read the boys their bedtime story and go. You already know the way home.”

Tears well up in Seonghwa’s eyes. It’s always like this with him. He just locks up. Runs away. Every time. Hwa should honestly have expected this to happen. What else would happen, really? Seonghwa isn’t sure what’s worse: being completely unsurprised by the redhead’s infuriating behavior, or allowing himself to be heartbroken anyway.

He watches futilely as the redhead floats away until he’s nothing but a speck of sparkles and red. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa sniffles. He doesn’t even feel like crying much anymore. Not really. He’s done it more times than he can count as of late, and he’s tired of it. He just lets the words drop numbly from his lips.

“Hongjoong… It’s okay.”

Chapter Text

Fire crackles peacefully in the forest clearing. Crickets and cicadas sing a droning song, accompanied by the warbling of bullfrogs and soft chirping of bats. From their little corner of Neverland, the lost boys have a beautiful view of the stars. Most stunning of all is the sky’s centerpiece, the moon. She shines brighter than a diamond and looks bigger than an extra large pizza.

One of the lost boy leans heavily on Seonghwa’s shoulders. His eyelids droop as he wraps his blanket around his shoulders tightly. It’s almost bed time. The lost boys had a long day of adventuring. A message in a bottle washed up on shore in the morning, and inside they found a treasure map. Except, it was no ordinary map. Instead of words, the places were written as a jumble of numbers. The lost boys scratched their heads for a long time. 

Just as they were about to give up, Seonghwa had a eureka moment! He remembered a field trip his class took to the children’s museum. They had an interactive science exhibit on spies, and part of the activities involved codes. Hwa took on the ordeal of attempting to teach the lost boys ciphers from his memory. After entirely too much hard brain work, they managed to decipher the map’s directions. Of course, it wasn’t that easy. Somehow the buffoonish pirates lucked their way into the treasure cove, too, and a huge battle broke out.

Like always, the lost boys came out triumphant. They got a buttload of gold dubloons from the chest (along with a buttload of bruises from the fight). After exchanging a few of the doubloons with the forest tribe, the lost boys took home a fine feast. 

With bellies full and bodies exhausted, there was one thing left to end the day. A bedtime story. Not long after Seonghwa joined the ranks of the lost boys did he get enlisted with this sacred task. Apparently, none of the other boys were really good at reading. Hongjoong said he didn’t like grown-ups, but their “one useful function” was the “occasional comfort of a tuck-in and bedtime story”. His words. Eager to please his new leader (and honestly happy to take care of others), Hwa happily took on the task.

That was just about two years ago. He’s been reading bedtime stories ever since.

“...The beast’s fur glowed brightly - brighter than the sun - and magic lifted his body into the air. Glowing light swirled around his body as it shrunk. His giant paws turned into hands, and his unruly mane tamed into beautiful, flowing hair. When the enchantress’s spell had finally reversed, it left not a fearsome beast, but a beautiful prince. The dame, taken aback, gasps and rushes to him-”

“Ew!” One of the lost boys across the fire - the strong one - yelps.

“Are they gonna kiss?” The lanky one asks, sounding less grossed out and more curious.

“Ugh- Why do these stories always gotta have kissing,” Another one adds.

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. It’s not like he wants to read about grown-ups swatting spit, either, but he’s sort of resigned himself to the fact that most of these stories end with a kiss. That’s just how it goes. The princess or damsel in distress gets rescued. She gets a kiss and maybe gets married.

“Just skip it,” Hongjoong says with a sort of finality. The general grumbling among the boys dies down, and Seonghwa sighs.

He continues, “The dame rushes to his side, and the two hug -”

“Oh! Do they live happily ever after?” One of the boys asks.

“What about the candlestick man? Is he still a candle?”

“Guys!” Hongjoong shouts. “Let him finish.” When the din dies out yet again, Hwa finishes the story.

“The enchantress’s curse breaks, and all of the servants turn back to their human selves. Clouds part, and sunlight shines down on the castle for the first time in ages. Overjoyed, the king holds a celebration for all to attend. The people dance and sing merrily. The beautiful dame - now his wife and princess - brings her father to the live in the castle as the head innovator. Everyone lives happily ever after. The end.”

“Aw.” “Yay!” “I liked that one.”

Seonghwa closes the book with a smile. That was a nice story. A few of the boys yawn.

“I think it’s bedtime,” Seonghwa says with a smile. 

The one resting on Hwa’s shoulder stirs,“Wha… No, no I can- I can stay up.”

“We’ve got another day ahead of us,” Hongjoong says. “C’mon lost boys. Let’s pack it up. Who knows what those pirates have in store for us tomorrow. They’re probably not too happy about us taking those doubloons today.” A few more groans of protest sound out, but ever faithful to their leader, the lost boys oblige. 

Seonghwa follows into the den the lost boys call home. A few lanterns light the way into the cozy hideout. There’s a little cove carved out for every boy. Each one has a bed of their own, and they’ve all got their own decorations. One of the coves - the one right by Hongjoong’s - remains conspicuously empty.

Seonghwa goes one by one to tuck them all in until only Hongjoong is left. He knows better than to tuck Joong in. The leader’s always the last one to bed. Always is. Joong and Seonghwa usually chat a bit by the fire before Hongjoong sees Hwa off. At least. They used to. Lately things have been… Weird. It’s like Hongjoong is mad at him. But for what?

Still, Seonghwa doesn’t like to pass up a chance to be alone with Hongjoong. It’s not like they hate each other anything. No matter what, they’ll always be there for each other. They’re just going over a rough patch is all.

When Hwa emerges from the lost boys’ den, Hongjoong is in the same spot he’d been by the fire. He leans back on his palms lackadaisically, watching the fire roar. Embers dance up from the flames and join the stars in the sky. The amber light outlines Hongjoong like a halo. 

Seonghwa plops down on the ground next to the leader cross-legged. He flashes Joong a grin. The redhead scoots away a bit, and Hwa’s grin falters. He tries to ignore it. Hongjoong probably just wants to spread out his legs is all. 

“Pretty crazy day, huh?” Seonghwa asks affably.

“Yeah. Hey, you okay? I saw you trip and fall by the cave,” Hongjoong leans over a bit and frowns, studying Seonghwa’s knee.

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s just a scratch,” Hwa starts to protest help. But then something stops him. “But, um, yeah it- it really hurts.” He pulls a face.

“Oh- Oh gosh, stay still. Here, here, um lemme, uh- How’s this?” Hongjoong gently places a hand on Seonghwa’s knee and strokes with his thumb. It kinda does feel nice, the gentle rubbing. It sorta reminds Hwa of how his mum rubs his tummy when he’s got a belly ache. Something about the motion is just comforting and soothing and nice. It’s like a universal way to show you care about someone. 

“It’s getting a little better,” Seonghwa replies.

“You know, you could stay here tonight. Get some rest,” Joong suggests. 

He always does this.

That spot in the den is for Seonghwa. He knows it. Whenever Hwa goes into the hideout, the barren bed sort of stares at him. There’s not a day that goes by where Hongjoong doesn’t ask him to stay. Nowadays, Hwa’s pretty sure Hongjoong does it more out of habit than actually expecting anything. Seonghwa always says no, and at this point he’s flattered. Sometimes he really, really thinks about it. But something about the prospect scares him. Part of him is afraid if he sleeps over one night, he’ll never leave.

“You know I can’t,” Seonghwa says. “My-”

“Yeah your parents, I know,” Hongjoong huffs, taking his hand back and wrapping his arms around his knees. “Y-Y’know I bet they wouldn’t even notice. I mean- It’s already dark, right? You could just go first thing in the morning, before the sun comes up.”

“Hongjoong, you know I can’t do that.”

“Come on, would your parents really notice? Just one night?”

“Joong, one time I woke up in the middle of the night and saw my mother standing over me with her hand on my chest.”

“Wh-Whoa,” A look of terror strikes Hongjoong’s face. “Have you ever considered that your mom is a serial murderer? Or an alien?”

“I screamed so much I cried,” Seonghwa admits with a sheepish laugh. “You know what she told me?”

“What?”

“She just wanted to ‘make sure I was still breathing and alive’.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I know. So, sleeping over is not an option. Unless- Well, usually she likes to know the peoples’ parents before I’m allowed to go over their houses. Not to mention strict day-time only hangouts before advancing into night territory…”

Hongjoong replies, clipped, “Right, well, you should probably get going, then.”

“Wha- No, I- I can stay a little bit. I can tuck you in, if you want.”

“No you should go back to your mom. So she can make sure you’re breathing and stuff.”

“Wha- Hongjoong. Are- are you mad?” Seonghwa moves closer to the redhead, but this time the leader shies away. With the urgency he shuffles away, one would think Seonghwa is the fire.

“I’m not mad,” Hongjoong fires back. He definitely sounds mad. “I just- Why can’t you stay just once?”

“Hongjoong, you know that I-”

“You always choose them over us.”

“Wh- Hongjoong-”

“What’s so good about grown-ups, anyway, huh? All they do is- is make up rules and tell you what to do when it’s convenient for them. They- they just lie and tell you what to do and- and use you as a prop- and the second you don’t do what they tell you to or- or you’re too much of a hand full you face the consequences. Seonghwa I would never do that, ever.”

“Hongjoong, I- I can’t-”

“Why not, Hwa? Why not?” There it is again. That desperation. Seonghwa can see it in the flickering firelight, the way sadness distorts Hongjoong’s cute features. His mouth makes a pout, and wetness in his eyes catches the light.

“I don’t want to make my parents upset or- or worry them.”

“Who cares! What happens when they do something that makes you upset? Do they apologize? Huh?”

“W-Well, that’s different. They’re my parents-”

“They’re grown-ups. They don’t care about you.”

“Wh-Why are you saying all of this, Hongjoong? My parents are- are weird, yeah, but they’re not like that-”

“Maybe not yet. But who knows. You do something they don’t like tomorrow, and they’ll just- just toss you aside. Or- or lock you up in a room or something. Hwa I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Hwa cries,“What?! No. No, Hongjoong not all grown-ups are like that. My parents love me!”

“So do I!” Hongjoong shouts it so loud that it echoes across the trees forever. It’s almost like the trunks are mimicking the redhead, whispering the words back so they linger. 

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa’s words come out as a hoarse whisper. He feels like the wind had gotten knocked out of him.

“S-So do we,” The redhead says weakly.

Seonghwa doesn’t know what to say to that. Tears just drop down his cheeks one after the other. He thought he’d grown out of crying years ago but apparently not.

“Good night, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa stands up and sniffles.

“Seonghwa wait-” The redhead jumps onto his feet to follow the black-haired boy.

“I know the way by heart already,” Seonghwa starts floating up into the night sky.

“W-Wait Seonghwa, I’m sorry,” Hongjoong flies after him. The leader is much more deft in the sky, and it takes just seconds for him to overtake the other. “Seonghwa, I mean it. I mean- I didn’t mean anything I said, okay. Your parents probably do love you.”

Hwa flies past Hongjoong wordlessly.

“S-Seonghwa!” Hongjoong persistantly follows, flying backwards just so Hwa can’t get away. “Seonghwa, I said-”

“I heard what you said!” Seonghwa shouts. He lets out a huff of air, “My parents probably love me. Right. And- and what about the other thing?”

“Huh? What other thing?”

“You know, the- the other thing.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“You- you said that you…” Seonghwa sighs dejectedly. “Never mind, Hongjoong. I’m going to bed.”

“Seonghwa- Wait- I am sorry. Really.”

“I know,” Hwa continues his ascent into the night sky. The flickering orange of the firelight fades, drowned out by th esilver glowing of the moon. Hongjoong cuts in front of him again .

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong cradles his arms. He looks so small and vulnerible. Seonghwa wants to hug him - except, he won’t. He’s mad at Hongjoong because Hongjoong is being a jerk. Of course, that doesn’t mean Seonghwa is just gonna refuse to hear him out.

Hongjoong floats just a bit forward, and his voice dips low, “I- I really am sorry. Please don’t go. I- I mean go, but-” He sniffs loudly. It’s clear he’s trying to act tough, but Seonghwa can see the way Joong’s eyes glimmer in the moonlight. “Please come back. I want you to come back. We- We all do. You’re one of us, you belong here. Even if… If only when you wanna come.”

Seonghwa sighs and extends a pinky. He nods, and puts on a brave face for the sake of both of them. It’s sort of pathetic how they argue and both end up teary messes.

“Course I will,” Seonghwa replies, wiggling his pinky and grinning. “We made a promise, remember? Together forever.”

“R-right,” Hongjoong smiles timidly. “Together forever.”

The two lock pinkies under the moonlight.

Seonghwa frowns at the sight of his breath in the late autumn air. The hot weather always feels oppressive until it’s gone. Now Seonghwa can’t stick his foot too far out of his blanket without getting the shivers. He clings to his cocoa, willing his hands to seep every bit of warmth from he can get from the hot beverage. 

By the grace of all that is good, his afternoon class got cancelled. It’s been a rough semester (well, they’ve all been rough - but that’s beside the point). Seonghwa sees nothing more fitting than to reward himself for his work with an afternoon nap. Nothing quite beats cozying up under a blanket while watching the gray sky. The RA hums happily as he enters his building. Warmth stings his red hands and the tip of his nose.

By the time he’s up the stairs, Seonghwa’s sweating. That’s the kicker about this sort of transitional weather. There’s always a distinct lack of equilibrium. You go from freezing outside to roasting in, and there’s no in between. Seonghwa wracks his brain for solutions to this problem. Should he wear less layers? More. His lamentations are, however, interrupted by a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.

Hongjoong.

The redhead walks not far in front of him. He’s going pretty slow for some reason. Over the weeks of his residence, Seonghwa has only caught sight of Joong in passing. Once or twice, he’s managed an awkward wave or pained smile. They haven’t talked since. Occasionally, Seonghwa notices the light glimmering extraordinarily off of the redhead’s cheekbones. Fairy dust, he thinks. The moniker is apt, and whatever’s in that formula is worth whatever price he paid. Because when Hongjoong wears it and the light catches him just so, he truly looks magical.

Seonghwa tries not to be a creep, but he slows his pace. Something is off today. Hongjoong typically moves quickly. He just does, sort of scuttling around like a little woodland creature. (Or maybe he just moves like that to avoid Seonghwa because Hwa can’t manage to act normal around him.) Hongjoong lumbers in front of him slowly, clumsily almost. His gait is that of someone sore or hurt. Is he sore or hurt? He’s in sweats and an unzipped hoodie, maybe he just got back from the gym.

“H-Hongjoong,” Seonghwa tries to sound cool and casual and not like he’s got a freakish crush-slash-fascination for the other.

The redhead glances over his shoulders, and upon seeing Hwa his eyes widen. He starts walking faster.

Seonghwa can’t believe his eyes - what the heck did he do?! They’re both walking in the same direction, anyway, which just makes matters more awkward.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa tries again.

The redhead stops, huddling his hoodie closer, “Hi Seonghwa.” He gives a little grin. It’s not genuine, just polite.

Hwa feels a pang of guilt. Maybe he really is a bother. Maybe, for some reason, Hongjoong feels really uncomfortable around the RA. Might have something to do with the weirdo klepto thing he pulled. Or perhaps the name thing. What if he’s caught onto Seonghwa’s passing glances? Does he know that Hwa’s been looking him up?

“Hey,” Hwa skips up to Hongjoong’s side. “How’s it going?” He flashes Hongjoong a wide grin, an authentic one. “You look comfy, come from the gym?”

“U-Um, yeah,” Hongjoong answers sheepishly. “Leg day.”

“Yikes,” Seonghwa winces. He’s still sore from his leg workout last week. “And then you have to walk to classes.” 

“Yeah, walking everywhere was definitely a… Big adjustment I had to make,” Hongjoong sighs.

“Oh yeah, you, um, transferred here, right?” Hwa asks.

Hongjoong’s brows furrow. Oh shit. He probably wouldn’t have said that. Now Joong’s gonna totally know he’s been very not-weirdly strategically sourcing information on him.

“It was in your transfer papers for the dorm,” Seonghwa adds, because what better way to cover up e-stalking than with a lie? “Did you transfer from somewhere much smaller?”

“Yeah, I, um moved around a lot so I took classes online,” Hongjoong replies. “The whole idea of… Being a big kid and going to college really spooked me out. So I, like, put it off for awhile- and, wow that, uh, that really sounds-”

“Perfectly fine and normal,” Seonghwa cuts the other off. No self deprecation on his watch! “College is a lot to take on. Better than rushing into it and setting yourself up for failure.”

“Huh,” Hongjoong digests the words for a second. “You always know the right thing to say, Seonghwa,” He replies with a warm smile. The sight melts Seonghwa’s heart. The flurry of heat flushes his cheeks, and he hopes Joong chocks it up to the temperature difference indoors versus out.

“D-Do I?” Hwa squeaks out. Wow. Way to look cool, he thinks to himself. “Just speaking my mind. Glad the random crap that comes out of my mouth isn’t totally horrific.”

“No, only slightly,” Hongjoong snarks. Seonghwa laughs at the jab. So he’s got a fiery attitude to accompany that red hair. Hwa opens his mouth to return with a quip, but his eyes get drawn downward. A splotch of color pokes out from Hongjoong’s tank top. At first Seonghwa feels a punch of awkward, twisty pain in his guts. Then, he realizes it’s not a hickey. Or, at least if it is, it’s a damn impressive one. The bruise starts at the base of Hongjoong’s neck and stretches all the way down his shoulder, disappearing into the unzipped hoodie sagging off of his shoulders.

“What happened?” Seonghwa asks concernedly.

“Hm- O-Oh, uh- This,” Hongjoong rushes to pull his hoodie up. His pupils dart away, and the mirth he’d had seconds before diminishes. “It’s nothing.”

Seonghwa resists the urge to shake the guy. The bruising looked serious. Hwa doesn’t know Hongjoong well. Maybe he’s just in some martial arts club. But maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s being harassed or even worse, got assaulted. What if he had an accident? Is he in an abusive relationship? Has he sought medical attention?

“Hongjoong, I really think you should get that looked at,” Seonghwa tries not to sound as concerned as he feels.

The redhead’s eyes cast to the floor, and he shakes his head, “It’s fine, really. Just a bad bump is all.”

“Wh- Just a bad bump? Hongjoong, your shoulder is like a rainbow of black and blue.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m icing it,” Hongjoong picks up his pace, but oh no, Hwa’s not gonna let him off that easy.

The blond strides after the redhead with haste, “Wait- Just- Please seek medical attention.”

“I’m taking tylenol, and it helps.”

“Wh- Tylenol?!” Seonghwa actually runs so he can cut right in front of Hongjoong. He hates to seem threatening, but the other’s health takes precedence over his immediate comfort. Seonghwa stands up straight, using his height to overshadow the other. He considers that there’s at least a thirty percent chance he’ll get a knee in the groin for this. Should that be the case, he concedes that he deserves it. After Hongjoong talked about how scary college is, Seonghwa is here, acting like the creepiest creep on campus.

Though the hall is empty, Seonghwa lowers his voice just in case. He looks Hongjoong in the eye and asks, “Hongjoong, did someone do this to you? Are you being targeted?”

Hongjoong looks like a deer in the headlights (rightfully so). His pupils dance around, and he worries at his lower lip.

“Hongjoong, please,” Seonghwa tries again more softly. “If someone on campus is threatening you, tell me. I want to help you. I’m not just saying that because you live on my floor.”

“Then why?” Hongjoong asks, suddenly bold. He meets Seonghwa’s gaze with a surprising intensity.

“What?”

“Why do you care so much about me? A-About what happens to me? I mean- I don’t see you chasing any other students down the halls asking about their injuries.”

“I…”

Good question.

Why does he care so much? Seonghwa wonders.

“You remind me of someone I used to know,” The words come out of Seonghwa’s mouth. He can’t really claim them. It doesn’t feel like he’d said them. They just sort of climbed out of their own volition. In spite of the peculiar impulse, Seonghwa doesn’t feel particularly inclined to take the words back, either. So they just float there mysteriously, steeped in a meaning that Seonghwa can’t quite grasp.

“Do you remember his name?” Hongjoong asks. What a strange question. A strange question prompted by a strange admission. When did everything get so weird?

“U-Uh no, no I don’t,” Seonghwa shakes his head. “I just… Look, even if you didn’t remind me of someone, I’d still care because- I dunno. I just care about people.” Hwa shrugs, backing up to give the other some space. The air between them was starting to feel a bit tight and suffocating. “Which is why, I would really like to know what happened? If- If you’re cool with telling me. No pressure or anything. Though you should probably talk to somebody, even if it’s not me.”

Hongjoong’s pupils flit between the floor and Hwa’s own. They do that nervous dance for a few moments before Joong appears to make a decision of sorts.

The redhead’s shoulders slump, and his voice shrinks into something so tiny, it’s barely audible. At first, Seonghwa can’t hear it, and he asks Joong to speak up.

“Parkour,” Hongjoong breathes out quietly.

“Wh-Huh?” Hwa grunts.

“P… Parkour,” Joong coughs out. His face lights up like a red lantern.

“I- I’m sorry. Come again?” Hwa’s nose scrunches with confusion. “Did you just say-”

“I- I got injured doing parkour,” Hongjoong admits. His cheeks and ears match his hair at this point.

“Wait- Are you serious? Hongjoong, you- you don’t have to lie-”

“I’m serious, okay,” The redhead lets out a wry laugh. “I tried, um, jumping between buildings, and I totally wiped out. And I… I was too embarrassed to tell you because parkour is, like, the- the dumbest psuedo sports hobby someone could possibly have. So that is what happened to me.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa nods as realization washes over him. “Oh.” Thank god. He genuinely thought the other was in much more perilous situations. He envisioned abusive lovers or intolerant bullies. Parkour, though, that Seonghwa can handle. 

“Y-Yeah. Oh. So, I’m just gonna…” Hongjoong swiftly walks past the wall that is Seonghwa.

“W-Wait, Hongjoong!” Hwa clamors after the other when his laggard brain catches up with what’d just happened. He catches up quickly and matches the other’s stride. “I would never judge you for your hobbies. Unless you’re a serial killer. Or a furry.”

“Is now a bad time to tell you about my fursona?” Hongjoong quips.

“It is always a bad time to tell me about your fursona.”

“Guess I shouldn’t bring up the bodies in my fridge either.”

“You know, body parts actually aren’t on the restricted list. You can have those. But no beer.”

“Huh. Screwy.”

“I know, right?”

Hongjoong giggles, “It’s kinda funny the things policymakers come up with. They’re so obsessed with maintaining order that they miss out on, like, the most obvious things.”

“I guess they figured no hiding bodies in the fridge is sort of a, uh, common sense thing.”

“Well of course it is. The freezer is probably a better bet.”

“Yeah, but the dorm fridge-freezers are super tiny. You’d be better off breaking into one of the dining halls.”

“Isn’t breaking and entering against the rules?” The redhead quirks an eyebrow.

Seonghwa shrugs, “Hey, my authority only extends to this floor.”

“Cool. I’ll make sure to commit all of my heinous crimes on the floor below.”

“That’s the spirit!” Hwa laughs. “Let Han on floor two deal with it.”

“I really appreciate your encouraging attitude. Usually when I talk redrum it’s all ‘stop stabbing me’ and ‘you’re ruining Christmas, Hongjoong’,” The redhead jokes. Seonghwa snorts, and so does Joong. The two devolve into a fit of laughter. Seonghwa isn’t sure what’s more horrible, him laughing at the joke, Hongjoong making it, or the fact that they both find it funny. It’s probably telling of his character, but he doesn’t care. Especially when he gets to share laughter with perhaps the cutest guy he’s ever seen with his own two eyes.

“I can’t blame you for the inclination, really. Not with the nonstop exams.”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong breathes out. “Not to mention projects, papers…”

“Presentations, and shit- it’s the second half of the semester. Soon it’ll be finals,” Hwa sighs. 

“Oh, please don’t remind me. This is gonna be my first time, like, going somewhere for finals. Guess I’ll have to put on clothes this time around.”

“Don’t worry, lots of people show up in pajamas,” Hwa replies. “Damn, that’s right. This is your first time at a big university. How’s the adjustment been? Was it everything you hoped and dreamed of?”

“Does anybody really hope and dream of school?” Hongjoong answers cynically.

“You would be surprised. There were a lot of people in my high school who lost their minds agonizing about the college they’d go to.”

“Right. Sorry, I didn’t mean it to, like- sound mean.”

“No, no you’re fine. I get it. It’s kinda weird how our dreams change. We go from wanting to be firefighters or fairy princesses to just thinking about what alma mater’s gonna go on our resume.”

“So why’d you choose this one?” Hongjoong asks. “Was it your dream school?”

“O-Oh, uh, me? Um, to be honest…” Hwa shrugs. “I didn’t really have a dream school which made me kinda weird. Seems like everyone else did. I just wanted somewhere that didn’t cost a million dollars in a place I didn’t hate. I mean- I wanted a decent program, so here we are.”

“A decent program for what, exactly? You never told me your major during your introductory spiel.”

“O-Oh,” Seonghwa’s ears turn pink just from recalling the awkward meeting. At least Hongjoong seems to have thawed a bit since then. “Astronomy.”

Hongjoong’s face lights up, and Seonghwa’s heart does with it. It’s like watching a flower bloom in real time. The redhead’s plush pink lips part in awe. Seonghwa swears he catches an actual twinkle in the other’s eyes.

“You wanna study the stars?” Hongjoong asks, tone soft and full of childlike wonder.

“Yup,” Seonghwa nods hoping he doesn’t look as pleased as he feels. 

“Shut up, that’s so cool!” Hongjoong slaps Hwa on the shoulder lightly. “What made you wanna do astronomy?”

Seonghwa chuckles bashfully, “It’s just, uh, something I’ve liked since I was a kid.”

“Wait- Really?”

“Yeah, though my idea of astronomy was, like, a lot different back then.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I dunno. I, like, had this dream as a kid of just… Soaring through the stars. Not as an astronaut just me. Flying off to some far away land. When I was little I was under the impression that you could just reach out and touch one. Of course you’d probably burn the crap out of your hand even if you could somehow manage to sustain yourself in the vacuum of space. Plus that’s assuming the star still exists in space and hasn’t ceased to exist in the time it took you to reach it. Or it hadn’t already expired upon you seeing it- I’m sorry I’m- I’m rambling.”

“No, it’s awesome,” Hongjoong smiles again, and Hwa feels faint. “I mean- fine. It’s fine. Y’know, a lot of people I’ve talked to are here to do stuff completely different from what they wanted as kids. It’s refreshing.”

“Yeah, well, people change. There’s nothing wrong with that. I mean- What about you? Why geomatic engineering?”

“Um, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s actually similar to you.”

“Oh- Really? You wanted to be a geomatic engineer growing up?”

“No. Actually, I wanted to be a fairy king.”

“Well, you’ve got the look down.”

“ Wow ,” Hongjoong lets out a huff. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem too offended - just a tad wounded in the ego department. 

“What? It’s a compliment! I- No, I didn’t mean it like- like stereotyping because you- I’m just saying you look great all the time. Like a- a fairy.”

“Like… A fairy?” Hongjoong’s brows raise, incredulous and humored.

“I- You know you- your hair is always so- so nice, and the color is really unique. It’s like a pinky red, you know. Sorta otherwordly.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And, I mean- You- Your highlight, you’re always glowing,” Seonghwa tries.

Hongjoong presses his lips together and furrows his brows.

Hwa panics internally. Their conversation had been going so well, how could he steer it off a cliff like that? What if this is the last time Kim Hongjoong ever willingly speaks to him? All because he called him a fairy!

“I- I’m sorry that was insensitive of me to say.”

Hongjoong glowers at Seonghwa, and the ensuing silence makes Seonghwa wish he could dig himself a grave.

Hongjoong responds in a low voice, “I think the only thing you can do to- to make this right is to… Is to give me a few more compliments.”

“Seriously, I’d do anything to- ‘Scuse me?” The redhead snorts. Oh, so it’s gonna be like that, huh?

“Wh- You-”

Hongjoong laughs,“You’ve got a big heart. Too big, maybe.”

“Unbelievable.”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment,” The redhead snarks. So he’s pretty, funny, and evil. “Remember I’m still livid with you.”

Seonghwa scoffs. Truthfully, he could give Hongjoong at least three dozen compliments based on the day’s conversation alone. But that would probably be weird. Hwa realizes that just minutes earlier he’d chased the other down and demanded information regarding a parkour injury; he feels a little obliged to indulge the other.

“You’re funny,” Seonghwa shoulders the other to punctuate the point. That gets a giggle. Hwa adds, “You are clearly intelligent to be doing geomatic engineering. And… You’re brave.”

“Brave?” Hongjoong blinks surprisedly.

“You said college scared you, but you came here anyway,” Seonghwa shrugs. “Brave. And that’s all you’re getting out of me. Now it’s your turn.”

“Wha- To what? Compliment you?” Hongjoong laughs.

“No. Just tell me why geomatic engineering? It seems sort of niche.”

The redhead replies,“Okay, so, I didn’t know what geomatics was, but, um… It’s not far off from your reasoning, I guess. As a kid I always had an affinity for, uh, far off places. When I learned about the geomatics field, I thought it was the best modern way to explore the world and find, like, hidden, faraway lands.”

“Oh!” Seonghwa gasps. “So, what, like you wanna find the lost city of Atlantis?”

A coy smile crosses the redhead’s lips, and he nods, “Yeah. Something like that.” He looks up through his lashes and catches Seonghwa’s gaze. Hwa’s pretty sure his heart gets tangled up somewhere in those, too. It’s been a long, long time since he felt like this. He’s encountered his fair share of hotties and had plenty of crushes. This, though, this feels different . He doesn’t know why. He’s only talked to Hongjoong twice now. Yet the way his heart skips a beat, the way Seonghwa finds himself hanging on every word, is totally incomparable to anything else.

“So, um, this is me,” Hongjoong laughs awkwardly. Seonghwa blinks, willing all of the hearts and sparkles superimposed by his boy-crazy brain to disappear. He glances at the door they’re standing by. How long have they been standing there, talking about nothing? The walk from where he’d spotted Joong to their dorms is pitifully short. But they’ve been going back and forth for, what? Ten minutes? Near fifteen? A wave of embarrassment washes over Seonghwa upon the realization that he’d walked past his dorm and stood stupidly outside Hongjoong’s for so long. Determined to play it cool, he employs his best coping mechanism: denial.

“Wh- Oh, it is? I thought this was my dorm,” Seonghwa gasps.

“Your dorm is right over there,” Hongjoong points to Seonghwa’s suite. “Second from the-”

“Yeah, second from the right, I got it.” So much for denial.

“Well, thanks for walking me to my door,” Hongjoong says with a smile.

With denial out of commission, Hwa uses his second best coping mechanism: shitty humor, “It’s a dangerous world out there. I wanted to make sure you made it safe.”

“Did you, now?”

“Well, more properly, I wanted to make sure you didn’t try to jump off of any of the common room furniture. Since that’s apparently a hobby of yours.”

“Oh my god-!” Hongjoong slaps Seonghwa gain, and his cheeks pinken. “I- I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s too late now.”

“Right, well, I am going to go inside and think about the consequences of my life choices so…”

“Yeah. Have a good evening, Hongjoong,” Hwa smiles at the other and steps back. “And put some ice on that injury!”

Hongjoong steps through the door to his suite, but before he goes in, he pokes his head out, “W-Wait, um.”

“Hm?” Seonghwa turns on his heel.

“Thanks,” Hongjoong says shyly from behind the door.

“For what?”

“For- For caring. You’re alright.”

“I’m alright?” Seonghwa chuckles. “Just alright? After you made me give you glowing praise, I just get alright?

“Not gonna lie, I thought you’d be a total square.”

“What? Seriously?”

“I know, I know. Don’t judge the book by the cover and all that.”

“No, I- I get it. It’s the RA thing. A lot of people hold their breath around me like I’m gonna write them up for fun. I don’t blame you.”

“It’s um, not quite that, actually. I just-” Joong shrugs, “-you seem so grown up. Guess I thought that would make you… Act old and stuff.”

“Grown up?” Seonghwa’s face squashes with befuddlement.

“Catch you later!” Hongjoong waves and shuts the door abruptly.

“Wh- Grown up?” Seonghwa isn’t sure if he should be offended or flattered. “Grown up” implies he seems like he’s got his shit together. At least, he thinks that’s one way to interpret it. It could also mean he gives off the impression of someone bitter and elderly. He doesn’t really care, though, because Hongjoong said it.

The short walk Seonghwa takes to his dorm is one taken on clouds. Warm happiness glows in his heart, and dizzying lightness fills his head. He swears, he might lift off the floor and fly away.

For a few blissful moments, Seonghwa wallows in the head-spinning sensation of giddiness. He forgets his exams, job, and obligations, and for just those few minutes, allows himself to be purely, unfilteredly, unadulteratedly happy.

“Holy fucking shit, are you braindead?!” Wooyoung throws a pack of ramen noodles at Seonghwa.

“Wh- Hey! Fuck you!” Seonghwa bats the orange packet away. Yeo and Woo opted to rent for their second year. Having a place with no extraneous, non-friend roomies turned their place into the sort of default for gathering. Given that the group of friends are all dying due to late-semester midterms and papers, they all agreed to have a lazy friday night.  

Wooyoung grabs another ramen pack off the kitchen table. In the cramped space, that means he’s no more than a meter away. How all seven of them manage to cram in there, Seonghwa still doesn’t know. There has to be a fire code violation happening or something. San sits on Mingi’s lap in the loveseat - how they get any studying done in that position, Hwa has no idea. He supposes they probably don’t, actually. Being the oldest, he was granted dibs on the best spot on the couch. Next to him, Jongho and Yeosang cram themselves into the remainder of the hand-me-down piece of furniture. Yunho doesn’t even bother with a seat, perching on the floor between Jongho’s legs. Some anime none of them care too much about plays on the TV as they sort-of study.

Perhaps if Hwa hadn’t mentioned his little moment with Hongjoong, people would actually be studying. Seonghwa couldn’t keep it in, though. Playing it off in texts was hard enough. Once his friends pressed him, he exploded like a chocolate lava cake. Now, he has some regrets.

Yeosang laughs, “I’m with Woo on this one. It’s obvious he was giving you some signs.”

“Yeah,” Mingi adds. “Like massive neon ones.”

“You’d know about those, wouldn’t you?” Yeo jabs. Mingi lets out a cross of a choking noise and a laugh while the one on his lap appears completely oblivious.

“I dunno. He probably just wanted a, like, boost for his ego,” Seonghwa waves dismissively. “I mean we have literally talked twice.”

“So what?” Woo says. “Nobody’s saying you gotta marry him. Or even ask him out on a proper date.”

“I’m sorry- What?” Hwa guffaws.

Wooyoung giggles,“You know, you could just-” He starts pelvic thrusting the air.

Yunho on the ground gasps, “Oh come on, Wooyoung!” Seonghwa opens his mouth to thank him, but Yunho adds, “Hongjoong could be a top. It could be like this-” He starts bouncing awkwardly in a sad attempt to pantomime cowgirl position.

“Fuck’s sake,” Seonghwa covers his eyes. He can’t watch this. What are they, twelve? The tiny living area thunders with cackling and giggles.

“Seriously, though,” Yeosang, always the voice of reason, cuts in. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Do about what?” Hwa makes the mistake of uncovering his eyes and sees that Woo and Yunho are still at it. Weirdos. 

“Uh, your schoolboy crush - what else?”

“I- I do not have a schoolboy crush,” Embarrassment sends heat rushing to Seonghwa’s cheeks. “I just think he’s cool.”

“Uh-huh,” Yeo responds flatly. 

“Wh- I do not- And would you two stop that!?” Seonghwa scolds the two who still insist on making lewd gestures. The pair laugh like kids in school who’d got caught passing notes. They’re idiots, but they’re Seonghwa’s idiots. “I mean, sure, he’s cool and funny and cute, but like-”

Jongho boisterously cuts his elder off, draping himself on top of Seonghwa’s lap and clutching his heart dramatically, “And I told him he looks like a fairy because it’s true. He twinkles with magical fairy dust, and when he smiles the sun shines brighter.” He fake swoons, eliciting another round of laughter.

“I- I do not sound like that, you little shit!”

“-And he’s so petite and little I just wanna hold him in my big, strong arms-”

“I did not say that. I said he was petite. I didn’t say shit about my big, strong arms, which- thank you, by the way.”

Jongho suddenly grabs Seonghwa’s collar, “Take me to fairyland, daddy.”

And with that, a line is crossed. Seonghwa pinches Jongho’s nose and covers his mouth with the other hand.

“Take it back,” Seonghwa demands. He knows it’s sort of contradictory considering he’s barring the other from breathing. Jongho flails, making muffled sounds protest. “Are you sorry, Jongho?”

“Jesus!” “Oh my god- you’re gonna kill him!”

“You sorry?” Seonghwa asks assertively. Jongho flails more, but Hwa doesn’t relent. “I said, are you sorry? Yes or no! Nod your head-” Jongho nods furiously, and Hwa releases his hold on the other’s face. “That’s better.” 

“You’re a monster,” Jongho wheezes. 

Seonghwa smiles sweetly, “Naughty children get disciplined.” He pats Jongho on the cheek affectionately.

“God forbid we want you to be happy,” Jongho pouts, crossing his arms, and grumbles, “Maybe if you got laid you wouldn’t be so uptight.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Jongho plasters on a deferent smile.

“So, what,” Yeosang interjects. He speaks in a low voice, and something about him has a sort of soothing effect on Seonghwa. The eldest ignores his annoyance and gives his full attention to the other. “You’re just gonna do… Nothing?”

“As opposed to what?” Seonghwa says. 

“Dude, just ask him out!” Wooyoung yells from his spot in front of the stove.

“Okay, just because you talk to someone once doesn’t mean they’re interested.”

“Do we have to have the ‘you’re hot’ conversation again? Because you are, you know. You’re hot. Like. Really hot. You could have a shit personality and half the student body would still want a piece of you just for your looks alone.”

Seonghwa laughs bashfully, “Well, unlike half the student body he’s actually heard me speak. And, uh, like I told you guys it wasn’t my finest moment.”

“I don’t think it sounded that bad,” San comments generously. “He laughed at your jokes.”

“Yeah, but let’s say I ask him out. Then what? I mean- Like- I don’t even know what- what we’d do-”

“The fuck do you mean?” Woo says. “You take him out. Then you-”

“Do not thrust again,” Seonghwa demands.

“I was gonna say have a good time.”

“Mhm.”

“I was-”

Yeosang grins,“You really like this guy, don’t you?”

“What?” Hwa squeaks. 

“You do, I can tell. You get all nervous just talking about him.”

“I- I…” Seonghwa doesn’t know what to answer to that. It’s true. He really does have a devastating crush on Hongjoong. He doesn’t know for the life of him why. Sure, Hongjoong is cute, charming, and funny - but there are loads of cute, charming, funny guys out there. Seonghwa’s talked to a few of them, many more than twice. But for some reason, the crush he has on Hongjoong feels different. It’s not just a passing infatuation or desire to hook up.

Seonghwa doesn’t know what it is.

“I dunno,” Hwa finally shrugs. “He’s just… There’s something about him.” He gets a chorus of “awws” in response, followed by more gushy remarks and teasing. Eventually, the topic changes, but Hongjoong manages to come up often. The group doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to tease Seonghwa. When given an inch, they take a mile.

If only Seonghwa could understand why his feelings are so intense. It’s almost like the emotions had all been dammed up for years, and seeing Hongjoong for the first time made the damn break. They all just flooded Seonghwa without giving him time to process and comprehend.

But why?

Why?

Sunlight gleams brightly down into the forest clearing. Seonghwa holds his arms out and pretends to be a plant. He lets the warmth sink into his skin and invigorate him. It smells like grass and rainwater in the forest, and the sound of the other lost boys chattering echoes across the space. 

It’s lunchtime now. The lost boys packed a picnic basket to the brim with fruits and jerky. Seonghwa smuggled in some goods of his own including chocolate chip cookies and sandwiches he made himself. Basically, they’re about to have the most awesome lunch ever. It’s nice to slow things down, too. They’d spent the whole morning acting out plays which is no simple task. There’s the stage production to take into account, the costuming - not to mention the acting itself! Seonghwa feels confident that the lost boys’ production of Macbeth is perhaps the greatest triumph of theater he’s ever known. Putting aliens in was a really nice touch in his opinion. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and when the curtain drew, their tummies grumbled loudly, signalling that their foray into theater was through.

“Let’s put the blanket over there!” One of the lost boys shouts. 

“I want an apple- hey, can you split it for me?” “Gimme a cookie.” “I’m gonna take a nap.”

Seonghwa runs alongside the others and helps them set up. They lay down a raggedy old blanket and set out their delicious feast. The great thing about being around all kids is that nobody cares when you eat or how loudly. Nobody says grace, and manners are limited to “don’t snatch food out of someone’s mouth”. The lost boys dig in, recounting their favorite moments of the morning.

“-think you made a great Lady Macbeth,” Hongjoong jokes to one of the lost boys - an almost frail looking boy who doesn’t talk as much. Maddox - a mere twinkle perched atop Joong’s shoulder - rings boisterously. The redhead throws his head back in laughter, and it’s like the sun shines extra bright on him. Seonghwa has to clench his fists extra hard to hold back the ugly bubbling feeling in his chest.

He made a promise, one he intends to keep. 

Seonghwa tears his eyes off of the lost boys’ leader and instead glances around the clearing. There’s a stream not far off. The grass is long and dances in the wind. A soft rustling sounds out every time the breeze stirs the tall blades. Out from the green, dozens of flowers splotch the landscape with bursts of pretty color. Hwa, distracted, spots a brilliant crimson flower.

It’s so pretty, Seonghwa has to pick it. He crawls across the grass over to the bloom and inspects it carefully. The stem is long, but there aren’t thorns thankfully. It ought to be easy enough to pick. Just as he thought, the flower unearths easily. Seonghwa gives it a sniff. The scent is nice and mild, fragrant without being overwhelming like an old lady’s perfume. Its stem is a bit flimsy - no, flexible. It wraps around Seongwha’s fingers easily, and he wonders if he could wear it as a ring.

That gives him an idea.

“What’re you doing all by yourself?” Hongjoong’s voice gives Seonghwa such a shock, he jolts up. He’d been on his own for a few minutes at least. Maybe more, if Joong noticed. 

“U-Uh-” Hwa hides his little project behind his back.

“What’ve you got there?” Hongjoong giggles, looping around.

Seonghwa pivots, keeping his front to Hongjoong’s, “Nothing.”

“You’re hiding something.”

“N-No I’m not.”

“C’mon, Hwa.”

“What?”

“It’s not nice to hide things.”

“It’s- It’s nothing, really.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah- oof!” Force collides with Hwa, knocking him to the ground. The two tussle on the ground.“J-Joong!”

“Hwa just give it over, I just wanna see it!”

“Hongjoong, wait- You’re gonna crush it-”

“What is it?!”

“Just- Just get off of me!”

“Okay, fine! But you gotta show me,” Hongjoong relents.

Seonghwa frowns, “I wasn’t finished yet, but… Here.” Hwa reluctantly reveals what he’d been hiding. He wanted to perfect it. The base structure is there, but Seonghwa knows it could really use some improvement. Inspired by Hongjoong’s laugh and the crimson flower, Hwa set out to make a flower crown. He was hoping to make it big and luscious, but he’d only managed about one basic chain.

“It… It was gonna be for you. I mean, it is, but, I didn’t finish it. Sorry.”

“F-For me?” Hongjoong points to himself, shocked.

“Well, yeah. You’re the leader, and I mean, look at all the flowers,” Seonghwa lifts the crown up. “See? They  match your hair. I was gonna add some white ones and more leafy stuff-”

“I love it,” Hongjoong says. “This is awesome. Can I- Can I have it?”

“Well, I was gonna add more stuff, but if you like it now. Go ahead, it’s for you.”

Hongjoong beams and takes the crown delicately. He gently perches it atop his head.

“How do I look?”

“Like Oberon, King of the Fairies,” Seonghwa replies with a grin.

Hongjoong tilts his head inquisitively, “Like who?”

“Oberon, the King of Fairies. He’s a character in a play.”

“I don’t think I know that one- which one is it?”

“Oh, it’s just a, um- I don’t think you’d like it very much, actually. But, um, Oberon is cool. He’s funny.”

Hongjoong shrugs, “Sweet. Being a Fairy King sounds kinda awesome.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d have so many awesome powers. Flying for sure.”

“A hundred-percent flying. I’d love to be able to, like, make flowers bloom with a pass of my hand,” Joong acts out the gesture, slowly running his palm over a few blades of grass. “Or what if I could alter the weather with my moods?”

“Sounds pretty powerful.”

“Of course-” Hongjoong plucks one of the long blades of grass out of the ground, “-you have to be my most faithful knight.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you do, so get down on one knee.”

“What- Why?”

“I’m gonna knight you, dummy!”

“Wh- Okay, fine,” Seonghwa laughs. He does as instructed getting perching onto one knee.

“I, Hongjoong, King of Fairies, pronounce you, Park Seonghwa, as my most honorable, faithful, loyal knight,” Joong taps the grass on one of Hwa’s shoulders. “I give you the task of protecting the Fairy Kingdom and all the good people residing in it.” He taps Hwa’s other shoulder. “Will you take the oath, good sir?”

Seonghwa smiles as he bows his head, “Your wish is my command, King Hongjoong. It is my honor to serve you.”

“Then so it shall be that you will serve and protect the crown forevermore.”

“Gladly, your majesty,” Seonghwa says with a smile. The two look into each other’s eyes and laugh a little. The moment is interrupted quickly, though, as a couple of lost boys come running toward them.

“He farted on me! Help!” “I’m gonna do it again!” “Ew, gross!” “Hongjoong, tell him to stop it!”

Hongjoong snorts, “I’m the Fairy King and you will obey me!” He shouts. “My first ordinance as king is a ban on farting!”

“Then I guess that makes me an enemy of the crown!” The guilty lost boy bellows. “I’ll pass gas as I please, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

Seonghwa jumps onto his feet and yells, “Not on my watch! As a knight of the Fairy Kingdom I will plug your treacherous butt if it’s the last thing I do! For the kingdom! Ahh!” He screams as he runs toward the other. 

Things go off kilter after that. Just as abruptly as one chapter ends, the page turns to another. The intimate little promises are kicked to the wayside in favor of more pressing matters. They play well into the afternoon, until the sun starts dipping below the treeline. No matter how distracted or roughed up Hongjoong gets, he always minds his crown.

Loud bass pounds through the windows of the shitty club. People pour out onto the front patio. Even though it’s freezing outside, girls bravely don their strappy dresses, and guys tail them with sleeves rolled up and cold beers in hand. The spot is sort of a weekend fixture for the student body. It’s within drunk stumbling distance of both the dorms and off-campus housing. They don’t charge too much, and the drinks - while objectively awful - are fairly strong. Overall, the spot gives a pretty big bang for buck if one compares the dollars spent to alcohol consumed ratio. It’s the sort of place that everyone goes to because, well everyone goes to it. Seonghwa doesn’t like it, but he somehow keeps winding up at the place.  He blames it on himself for having younger friends.

Seems like every time someone turns legal, the squad goes through phases of indulging the newly initiated drinker. Except, with everyone’s birthdays so damn close, this happens every few months. Hwa’s coping solution is to drink until the cramped quarters and overzealous thirsty types don’t bother him so much. But, occasionally even that doesn’t work. Not in the mood to drink, he opts to just remove himself from the place entirely.

Seonghwa takes a deep breath of the crisp, night air. His breath makes fog as he exhales. The bar is so crowded, it feels nice to emerge into the cool night. The bone cold breeze reminds him that winter is just around the corner. With it comes finals, the holidays, and all too soon the next semester. Figures - even when he’s buzzed outside a club on a Friday night, Seonghwa still can’t get his mind off of school. Maybe he should drink more.

Hwa’s got half a mind to text the guys and tell him he’s going home. He feels lame as hell for doing it, but his heart’s not in it today.

“-ww don’t walk away!” A slurred shout down the sidewalk draws Seonghwa’s attention. Hwa gasps. He immediately recognizes the person striding down the sidewalk quickly. Most of his hair is tucked into a beanie, but a few strands of the telltale strawberry red stick out here and there. Who Hwa doesn’t recognize is the dudes stumbling behind him. Judging by Hongjoong’s tense expression and the way he keeps his hands buried in his pockets, neither does he.

“C’mon fairy princess, why don’t you take me to fairyland?” Another one of the drunks jeers. Anger pierces Seonghwa’s chest and spreads to every corner of his body. What kind of creep follows a person around to shout insults at them? He clenches his fists as he rushes to join Hongjoong’s side.

“Hey!” One of the jackasses shouts, sounding more angry. “Turn around! Don’t ignore me! You know you want a piece of this.”

Seonghwa tries to ignore them, practically running to Joong’s side and looping an arm around his shoulders, “Hey, Hongjoong,” He whispers. “You alright? Who are these guys- what happened?”

Hongjoong casts a cursory glance over his shoulder, “I’m fine-”

“Hey!” The same jackass who’d been hollering before barks. “That your boyfriend?”

“Just ignore them,” Seonghwa instructs calmly. “I’m gonna walk you to the dorm.”

“It’s- it’s fine,” Hongjoong tries to sound cool, but Seonghwa can hear the quivering in his voice. “I don’t wanna trouble you.”

“It’s not fine. C’mon let’s g-”

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” The most beligerent of the three dudes shouts.

Seonghwa shouts back,“God- Leave us alone!”

“Uh- ‘Scuse me?” The red-faced drunk slurs.

“Just- Just go away. Drink some water, fuck’s sake.”

“Y’know ‘fore you swooped in I was tryna have a conversation.”

“Bullshit,” Seonghwa’s patience is starting to wear thin, but he reigns back his anger. He just wants to get Hongjoong home safe. That’s his top priority. “Just leave it alone.”

“How about you lemme finish-” The shithead lunges forward and makes a move to grab Joong by the wrist.

Seonghwa roughly shoves the drunk off, furious, “Don’t fucking touch him!”

The drunkard scoffs, and his lackeys have the gall to laugh. He snorts and his face contorts into an ugly expression of humor.

“I’m just tryna show fairyboy here what a real man is like, thas’ all,” He conspicuously checks Hwa out up and down, sizing him up.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong grabs Hwa by the sleeve, “Hwa it’s fine, just- just go-”

“You stay away from him,” Seonghwa responds to the shithead unflinchingly. Almost every cell in his body vibrates with rage.

“I think I’mma do what I want. You should listen to princess over there and just go-” The fucker lunges toward Hongjoong again, reaching for his wrist. “-cause you sure as fuck wouldn’t know what to do with a tight ass like that.” His groupies cackle like hyenas in the background. “C’mere, princess-” The apparent ringleader reaches for Hongjoong again, and Seonghwa shoves him back roughly.

“I said stay away,” Seonghwa growls.

The drunkard stumbles back a few steps, but unfortunately, he catches himself,“Wh- Oh, you fucked up now. C’mere bitch-”

“Hey!” A booming voice down the sidewalk hollers. Hwa checks over his shoulder to see who it is, and he immediately backs off, hands up. The cop picks up into a fast walk and heads in their direction, “What’s going on over there? Break it up!”

“Shit-!” “Bolt.” “Fuck you!” “We gotta go-” The group of assholes scatteres like roaches, leaving Seonghwa and Hongjoong to give an explanation.

Seonghwa heaves a deep sigh. He doesn’t give a shit that he’s stuck talking to the cop. Those bastards are gone, and Hongjoong is safe. That’s what counts.

“There a problem here, guys?” The cop asks when he gets to the pair left on the sidewalk.

Seonghwa opens his mouth to explain, but it’s Hongjoong that speaks first.

“No, officer,” Joong says. “Just bumped into a couple of guys who had too much is all. My friend is walking me home now.”

“Alright. Stay safe,” The cop seems happy to accept the shallow explanation before walking back toward his post near the club.

Seonghwa frowns, “Why didn’t you tell him you were getting harassed?”

Hongjoong starts walking, “Like he’d give a shit.”

“Hongjoong, you could’ve gotten hurt. That was serious harassment, you should’ve said something.”

The redhead sighs loudly, “Okay, and then what? We have to give him statements and our information and… For what? You really think they’re gonna look into this? I was getting catcalled.”

“They were making gross comments about you. One of them tried to touch you. And- and they outnumber you, too.”

“Okay, you’re the one who almost started a fight,” Hongjoong responds. “What if the cop didn’t come by? What then?”

Hwa’s mouth flaps open and closed. He didn’t think of that before. Actually, all he could think about was making sure Hongjoong was okay - and that those guys paid for being disgusting. 

“Yeah,” Joong says, knowing damn well he’s right. “Thought so. I would’ve been fine, really.”

“I wasn’t just gonna stand by and watch you get harassed.”

Hongjoong lets out an airy chuckle and shakes his head, “You are so…”

“I’m what?” Seonghwa asks. He tries to alleviate the tension, bumping Joong gently,“I’m what ?”

“You’re a real knight in shining armor, aren’t you?” Hongjoong says with a grin.

“Well, that was also on my list of dream jobs as a kid,” Seonghwa snarks.

“Oh my god I- I see it.”

“Wh- You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“It’s not it’s just- it’s funny.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong sticks his tongue out, “It’s funny.”

The two go back and forth on their walk to the dorm. Fifteen minutes later, they’re in front of Seonghwa’s door. Hwa sort of word vomited an invitation to hang out. There was some mention of watching anime or movies and a promise of snacks. He didn’t expect the acceptance, but much to his elation (and partial dread), Hongjoong actually said yes.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” Seonghwa mutters as he gestures into his room. Another RA perk is that he’s got a single. There’s no fancy living area, but he’s got space for what he needs: a bed, a desk, a closet and room to get dressed. He’s even got his own bathroom which he can’t deny was a huge factor in his decision to apply for an RA job.

Hongjoong laughs, “What- what are you talking about? This is, like, super clean.”

“I mean, I like things neat,” Hwa shrugs, “But it’s not up to standard.”

“Up to whose standards?” Hongjoong asks.

“Mine.”

“Okay, remind me to never let you into my room.”

Hwa shakes his head and chuckles, “Well, you can sit on the bed or in the chair. I’m gonna fill the kettle up. What kind of tea do you like?”

“Oh- You don’t have to-”

“Oh, I have a filter pitcher, too. Or, if you like juice, I think I have some orange juice…”

“No, I mean, you don’t need to-”

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa cuts the other’s objections off. “I understand it sounded like a question, but it wasn’t really question. You come into my room, you’re eating or drinking something. Period.”

“That’s… Nice? Or scary.”

“Pick a drink!” Seonghwa tells the other from his bathroom.

“Uh- Black tea?” Hongjoong calls back. “If- If you have sugar-”

“Got it!” Hwa says. He can’t quite pin down why, but a happy smile crosses his lips as he watches the electric kettle fill with water. It finally hits him that he’s here, in his room, hanging out with Hongjoong. The prettiest boy he’s ever known. His savage dorm neighbor. The guy he’s been obsessing over for months at this point.

Seonghwa emerges from the bathroom with a stupid grin as he sets the kettle down on its perch and turns it on. He turns to say something stupid to Hongjoong, but the redhead’s expression makes him stop in his tracks. Hongjoong sits in Hwa’s egg-shaped lounge chair hugging his knees. His eyes have a faraway look in them as he stares at the ground, and his lips are set down into a frown.

Hwa crosses over to that side of the room and grabs the extra blanket he keeps at the foot of his bid.  He kneels down in front of the egg chair and extends the soft knit blanket as an offering.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa says softly.

“Nothing,” Joong spits out reflexively.

“Hongjoong, I didn’t even ask anything.”

“O-Oh, right…”

“But, now I’m gonna.”

“Dammit.”

“Yeah, I know, I suck,” Hwa jokes weakly. “You know I’m gonna ask what’s up.”

“You’re right,” Hongjoong replies. “You do suck.”

Hwa laughs, “Yeah I’m the worst, but, um… Seriously, what is it? I mean- If you really don’t wanna talk about it, that’s fine. You just don’t seem like yourself.”

Hongjoong stays quiet for a minute. He presses his lips together, and his pupils dart around like he’s trying to think about something. Apparently coming to a decision, the redhead lets out a heavy breath and nods.

“Those guys,” Hongjoong starts with a sniffle. When he finally looks Seonghwa in the eye, his own are wet. “I just- I don’t get it. Why? Why did they-?” He throws his hands up.

“Because they’re assholes, to put it lightly.”

“I- I didn’t do anything,” Honjoong sounds so small, so defeated. “I did nothing. I was just- just buying some snacks from the damn convenience store. I didn’t have my hat on, and- and they just- they saw my hair and piercings and started to- to-” He buries his face in his hands.

Seonghwa gently drapes the blanket he’d been holding over Hongjoong’s shoulders. The redhead graciously accepts the offering, wrapping himself in the fabric thightly.

“I’m really sorry you had to go through that, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says. He wishes there’s something more he could do. His heart aches knowing that with that experience, a little peace of mind got taken away from Hongjoong. That’s the thing with stuff like that. Even if “nothing happens”, it makes the person feel just a little less safe. It makes them question th eintentions of htose around them and carry themselves in a diffferent way. It breaks Hwa’s heart - especially knowing Hongjoong had to go through that.

“It’s just-” Hongjoong sniffs loudly and wipes his face, “I guess I was pretty sheltered at home. In high school we had a strict dress code. Then I took classes online, I- I guess I just didn’t know- I never expected something like that to- to actually happen. And I guess, like, I thought in my head that if it did I would- I dunno- I would do something about it. Like- I thought I’d fight back or something, but… I just wanted nothing more than to run away.”

“You are not obligated to fight back or anything. Your priority should be safety,” Seonghwa says. He wishes he could just hug the shit out of the other guy right now, but now more than ever he knows he has to respect boundaries. It’s just so damn hard seeing Hongjoong like this. He’s so used to seeing the redhead bright and smiley. Not like this. Not vulnerible.

“Right, fighting back is your job,” Hongjoong jokes weakly.

Seonghwa laughs sheepishly, “Yeah, exactly.”

“Thanks for that, by the way.”

“No problem. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“You really are like a knight. All honorable and good,” Hongjoong says. He and Seonghwa’s eyes meet, and the room goes silent. Seonghwa knows he should say something. It’s weird, he tells himself. A person can’t just stare into another person’s eyes like this and not say something. That’s too much. Plastering a sign that says “I’M INTO YOU” on his forehead would be more subtle at this point. However, any attempt at speaking gets caught in Hwa’s throat. Honestly, he can’t even begin to formulate words when Hongjoong is looking him in the eyes like that. He’s so beautiful and witty, but his usual barrier of snarkiness is down. Instead of savage banter, there’s a realness to him, and Seonghwa is way too intimidated by that to muster words.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says quietly. “Can I tell you something? If- If I tell you something, even if it sounds crazy, do you promise to at least- at least try and believe me?”

“Anything,” Seonghwa responds. “I trust you. You can tell me anything.”

Hongjoong worries at his lower lip for a few moments before choking out, “Hwa, the truth is that I- I am-”

“Beep! Beep!” The electric kettle chirps, indicating its completion.

“Oh, that’s the water!” Seonghwa stands up. “Do you want me to get the tea or- No, that can wait, first what was it that you-”

“No go ahead,” Hongjoong says.

“It can wait. What is it you wanted to tell me-”

“Go get the tea!” Hongjoong almost yells at Hwa. The older student’s brows knit in confusion. The redhead coughs out an elaboration, “I’m- I’m cold. Sorry. I just mean- You can get it, please. Don’t let it get cold.”

“O-Okay,” Hwa shrugs and obliges, pouring steaming water over bags of earl grey. He carefully carries a mug over to Hongjoong, gently pressing, “Right, so, um, what is it you wanted to tell me. It sounded important.”

“Oh, it- it wasn’t really. Actually I think I forget.”

“You were saying something about yourself,” Hwa tries to jog the other’s memories. “You said that you were… Something.”

“I- I dunno…”

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says, “I don’t wanna press, but I’m serious if you want to share anything- even if it’s, like, insane, I will trust you. I bet it’s not even that crazy. You can share whatever, I’m serious-”

“I’m your- uh- I am  a- a- a virgin!” Hongjoong blurts out.

Seonghwa nearly falls over. The sudden lurch in motion causes nearly-boiling water to spill onto his hand, and he bites down on his tongue to keep himself from screaming. He probably looks just as shocked as he feels, because Hongjoong rushes to clear the air.

“See, I told you it- it wasn’t important. Though, apparently it is crazy.”

“No- No it’s fine,” Seonghwa squeaks out. When did the room get ten degrees hotter? “I was just- just surprised. It’s not weird.” Why would Hongjoong tell him that? Sure, Hwa said anything, but that?! Seonghwa puts a momentous effort into not reading too much into Hongjoong’s oversharing of his sexual history (or lack thereof). He shakily hands the mug of earl grey over to Hongjoong, plastering on his most casual, reassuring, definitely-not-dying smile.

“No, no it is weird,” Hongjoong replies wryly.

“It- It’s not common, maybe, but it’s not weird,” Hwa tries to reassure the other. He takes a seat at his desk chair and scoots it so he’s across from Joong. God knows he needs to sit down after having that little news nugget dropped on him. 

“Uh- Sorry for, um, for blurting that out,” Hongjoong’s cheeks flush, and Seonghwa almost forgets that he’s having a moral crisis internally. “I just- With, um, with those guys and the way they talked to me and stuff, I dunno it just… I was- was thinking about that kind of stuff. Like, how I just… I guess I’m not comfortable with- with that.”

Seonghwa feels incredibly torn. Part of him is genuinely eager to hear the other out, to listen to him and to comfort him. A wretched, demonic part of his mind rushes to unholy places, and his rational side begs Hongjoong to just stop so his inner gremlin can stop running rampant with fantasies. Especially after what just happened, Seonghwa feels extra disgusting even thinking of Hongjoong like that. It’s indecent, and Hongjoong deserves much better.

“Uh-huh,” Seonghwa nods. He doesn’t really know how to respond. Listening seems like the better option, anyway. 

“I can’t believe I just said that,” Hongjoong covers his face with a hand. “Oh my god. I- I can’t believe I just said that to you. Oh god, I’m so sorry- I really just was like: ‘hey, what’s up, I’m a virgin’ to your face.”

“Hi virgin, I’m Seonghwa,” Hwa wants to hang himself. He can’t think of a time his fallback of dad humor has ever been so catastrophic. God, he wants to die. Hongjoong, equally as appalled by the genuinely horrific joke, can only respond with a wide-eyed look of awe and secondhand embarrassment.

“See, we’re even now,” Seonghwa laughs pitifully at his own pathetic existence. “One impulsive, humiliating outburst for another.”

“Right, that’s- that’s how that works,” Joong coughs out, face beet red.

“How about we never mention this again,” Seonghwa proposes.

“That’s- Yeah let’s- let’s do that.”

“Right, okay, um- A movie. We were gonna watch a show or a movie,” Seonghwa tries to recover the situation. “Do you, um, do you have any preference?”

Hongjoong looks up in thought for a second before answering, “Um… Do you mind cartoons?”

“Wh- I love cartoons,” Hwa smiles. Who doesn’t love a good cartoon? “What were you thinking?”

“How about… Beauty and the Beast?”

“Ooh, good choice!”

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites.”

Seonghwa fires up his TV and puts the movie on. A wave of nostalgia hits him as the signature opening card of the studio plays. Gradually, the awkwardness dissipates. Hongjoong’s frown lifts into a smile as the two shamelessly belt out the opening song, and all the heaviness from before lifts. It occurs to Hwa that the two have really had very little meaningful conversation. Yet it feels like he and Joong had been friends for years. The ease with which they lapse into conversation, the way that neither cares that they’re off key. Occasionally, one of them brushes a hand too close or their eyes linger on the other’s too long. That’s when Seonghwa remembers that, no, they haven’t been friends for years.

But still, it feels so damn nice to just be with Hongjoong. Seonghwa almost forgets that he’d gone to the club with his friends. It isn’t until more than halfway through the movie that Hwa notices the massive amount of notifications he’s missed. He sends a quick text to assure them everything’s fine, and that’s it. The rest of the night is spent traipsing through childhood favorites that never lost their luster. 

By the start of movie three, Hongjoong’s nodding off. The redhead insists he was “just thinking” and “watching with his eyes closed”, but after sleeping through the best song in Anastasia, Hwa asserts that enough is enough. He walks the other to the door and the two bid a prolonged, sleepy farewell.

Seonghwa feels a pit form in his chest upon returning to his empty room. It’s like Hongjoong took a part of Hwa’s heart with him when he disappeared into his dorm and went to bed.

Hongjoong lets out a dying noise  as he wrings his hands down his face. Seonghwa chuckles, smiling fondly at the other. He’s officially whipped, and honestly, he doesn’t care. Belting out Beauty and the Beast songs with a person means something. For them, it served as a catalyst to jumpstart their hesitant friendship. There’s still a lot of awkwardness between them. Seonghwa can’t quite place it. Conversation flows well enough. It’s just cohabitating in space that trips them up. The two of them seem to have engaged in a nonverbal agreement to keep their distance. Seonghwa is so used to doting on his juniors, having someone draped across his lap and resting on his shoulder. It’s not like he’s gonna throw himself at Joong, but a little affection wouldn’t hurt. If the other threw himself at him, he certainly would not be opposed.

Aside from the physical distance, Hwa’s found hanging out with him super pleasant. Weirdly enough, it’s just sitting around, kind of ignoring each other that makes him the happiest. Something about just hanging out in the other’s presence is soothing. Like, they’re alone, but they’re alone together. They just sort of happily coexist. It’s nice.

“Wh- Is she getting back with him?” Hongjoong scoffs at the drama on screen. He’s taken his usual post on the egg chair while Hwa spread out on his bed. Seonghwa’s single room makes for an ideal study spot. It’s quiet, clean, and there’s no competition for plugs. They can talk if they want to and eat a five course meal without a sideways glance.

“Oh- Hm. I guess she is,” Seonghwa frowns. The two both agreed on a drama as nonsense background noise. They picked some highly rated romance nonsense. Something engaging enough to warrant the occasional distraction without actually drawing their attention. “Again.”

“I am literally so confused,” Joong shakes his head. “This guy’s so mean to her. All he does is talk down to her and tell her how she’s not good enough.”

“Yeah, but he’s rich. So it’s okay.”

“Wh- How does that make sense!? Her childhood friend is way better,” Hongjoong huffs, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, but you know he’s the comic relief character. He’ll be there to pick her up when she’s down so she can gain the confidence to finally confront the rich guy. Rich douche will finally own up to his crap and say he was being rude because of his feelings. They’ll probably live happily ever after too- of course, not after, like, another ten episodes of this back and forth.”

“But why?” Hongjoong throws his hands up. “Why?!”

“I dunno. People eat this shit up, though,” Hwa shrugs.

“I mean, look at that jerk-” Hongjoong gestures to the rich guy on screen. “-with his… Stupid hair and suit. Who wears a suit all the time ?”

“Corporate types, I guess?” Hwa chuckles. He never thought of Joong as the type to get so fired up over dramas.

“I mean- What’s so bad about her childhood friend, anyway? Sure, he’s not rich, but he has literally everything else. He’s kind, lifts her up, cares for her, he’s patient… He’s not broke, either!” Joong huffs.

“I dunno. Maybe fairytales set us up with unrealistic expectations and at this point, it’s in our blood,” Seonghwa replies.

“Huh?” Hongjoong tilts his head confusedly. “What do you mean by that?”

Hwa shrugs, “I- I just mean that, like… How many fairytales end with the damsel marrying the shoemaker? Or the librarian? I mean, all those stories are about princesses. And in the end, if they’re not already royalty, they marry some high and mighty prince and live happily ever after in a castle and all that. Even Belle from Beauty and the Beast - a character who’s supposed to value intelligence and kindness over all else ends up falling into the same thing. And the Beast’s a total jerk, too.”

“Okay, first of all, how dare you compare Beauty and the Beast - a literal animated masterpiece - to this ,” Joong points to the screen. “Secondly…” He pauses, and his voice gets small, “I resent that you’re kinda right.”

Seonghwa smirks, “Ha!”

“Okay, but fairytales are still way better than this! At least they’re linear and, like, progress is made. None of that back and forth weirdness. They do the falling in love bit and ride off into the sunset. Easy. Done.”

“Easy and done, that’s very romantic of you, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa jokes.

“Shut up! You know what I mean. Don’t tell me you think enduring abuse for the sake of marrying rich is romantic.”

“Well this is a bad example, okay! I mean, look at it this way it’s…” Seonghwa tries to think of a way to put it in words. Why do people always go back to stories like these? It’s a classic trope: the resistant one, the Mr. Darcy, hell - the tsundere. It’s agonizing to watch and makes a person want to tear their hair out, yet people keep going back to it. Why? And how to put it in words. “I guess people like the idea of… Overcoming things to come together. I mean even in this crappy show, the girl’s not without her faults, too. I’m guessing in the end they both sort of learn from their crappy mistakes and grow into better people from it. And, like, two people growing together is sorta romantic, you know?”

“People can grow together in a story without see-sawing twenty times and sleeping with half the cast.”

“They can, but it’s not always realistic.”

“Not realistic? Please don’t tell me you sample the entire buffet before settling on a meal.”

Hwa snorts at the metaphor, “That’s- Okay that’s not it! It’s just, like, timing can be a big thing, and people change and things happen. You know, sometimes people love each other but they can’t be together right away.”

Hongjoong doesn’t answer immediately. At first, Seonghwa wonders if the other dozed off. However, when he glances at the other, the redhead isn’t “thinking with his eyes closed”. He’s deep in thought, biting his lip and staring at the ground. Hwa didn’t mean to turn this into some deep conversation, and the sight alarms him a bit. He and Joong still aren’t the closest of friends. The thought of making things weird and souring what they have terrifies him.

Hongjoong finally speaks, returning his gaze to Hwa’s, “I mean, realistically, how many couples can really deal with- with stuff like other relationships and- and different life experiences and stuff? How many people actually get together after a long time apart?”

“I-”

“Like, do you personally know any couples who’ve been through the ringer and back for real?”

“W-Well, no, but…” Seonghwa shrugs. “You’ve gotta believe that at least some can. Gotta have some faith and trust, right? I mean, without that hope the world’s kinda sad, isn’t it? And, shit it’s already depressing enough as it is.”

“Faith, trust…” Hongjoong murmurs to himself. “Damn,” He grins, talking louder again. “You put me to shame with the romance thing.”

Seonghwa’s entire face lights on fire, and he sputters out a response, “I- I what?”

“You’re a big romantic.”

“Wh- Why is it when you say nice things to me, it sounds like an insult?”

“I never said it was a compliment,” The redhead sparks, waggling his eyebrows. Seonghwa tries to play it off, but part of his lovestruck brain is devastated. What if Hongjoong really is making fun of him and he hates romantic stuff? How will Seonghwa romance him then? Never mind that Hwa’s way too chicken to ever actually do it - now even the fantasy is tarnished!

“Wow, rude-!” Seonghwa throws a pencil at Hongjoong.

“Hey- Ow! This is abuse!” Hongjoong throws a highlighter back. 

“Joke’s on you, I’m keeping this! I’ve always wanted a pink highlighter.”

“Buy your own then, you thief!”

“You threw it at me!”

“Because you threw your pencil first!”

“Fine, then let’s call it a trade!”

“I did not agree to this,” Hongjoong scoffs. “Don’t make me get out of this chair!”

“Yeah, and what do you plan on doing, exactly?”

“To be honest, nothing! I genuinely do not wanna get out of this chair,” Hongjoong laughs, stretching languidly. Seonghwa finds himself tracing the line of Hongjoong’s torso from shoulder to waist. Even in a t-shirt, the lines of his muscles pronounce themselves just ever so slightly against the cotton. God, he’s gorgeous.

Vibrating in Seonghwa’s pocket nearly sends the RA hurdling off the bed from surprise. Hwa paws clumsily around his surroundings, wondering where the hell his phone ended up. He wonders who the heck is calling him at this hour. Ready to hang up and send an annoyed text, Hwa picks up his phone. He almost taps the red ignore button, but then he sees the contact. It’s his mother.

“Uh-” Seonghwa chuckles sheepishly. “I gotta take this real fast.”

“Who is it?” Hongjoong’s lips pout as he asks.

“My mother.”

“Oh,” The redhead giggles impishly. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Yeah, uh-huh, will do.”

Seonghwa steps into the bathroom and answers, “Hello?”

“Seonghwa,” His mom sighs on the other side of the phone.

Hwa bites his lip nervously, “Mom? Is everything okay?”

“Seonghwa…”

“Mom- Mom what is it? Did something happen with dad? Are you hurt- did you get in an accident-”

“Seonghwa… It has been eleven days since you last called me!”

“What-”

“Eleven days!”

“Is that- Is that why you called so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep because I haven’t heard from my baby in eleven days!” Her shouting is so loud that the sound from the speaker echoes in the bathroom.

“Mom, you know finals are coming up.”

“Do you know how long I held you in my belly, Seonghwa?”

“Mom-”

“Nine months. Nine months! Imagine if I just took an eleven day break-”

“Mom-”

“I don’t need even a long conversation-”

“Mother-”

“I just want to know you’re okay and not dead in a ditch! The other day on the news I saw a segment about a human trafficking ring. You know that human traffickers are everywhere nowadays. They can be anyone.”

Seonghwa groans, “Mom, I am okay. I am not dead in a ditch nor have I been human trafficked.”

“He’s lying!” Hongjoong shouts from the bedroom. “He’s totally been taken!”

“Wh- Who is that?” Hwa’s mom yelps. 

“Ugh- It’s a friend mom, we’re studying together.”

“Studying at this hour?!”

“Yes, mom, it’s finals week! People study late!”

“Seonghwa!” Hongjoong calls from the bedroom (sounding entirely too amused), “Is it past your bedtime!”

Hwa shoots a dirty look out the door even though he knows Hongjoong can’t see him. It’s the principle of the matter, really. 

“Well, sweetie, you need to sleep. You know that an unhealthy sleep schedule leads to an unhealthy immune system, impaired memory-”

“Yes, mom, I know, and I’m sorry for making you worry-”

“-risk for disease, risk for cancer, increased chance for dietary regulation issues.”

“Okay, mom. I will get seven to eight hours of sleep tonight.”

“No, you won’t!” Hongjoong yells.

“Wh- Who is that?”

“I told you, it’s a friend.”

“It better be just a friend.”

“Mom are you seriou-”

His mom’s voice gets a bit distant for a second, “-no honey! No I am not gonna congratulate him on… That’s inappropriate-! Sorry, your father overheard me talking. Just ignore him. That’s what I do. Which friend is it, then? Is it Wooyoung? Is he still a little flirt?”

“No, um, actually it’s someone I… Met recently.”

“You met recently and you already trust this person in your dorm late at night?”

“Not everyone is a thief, mom!”

“Things go missing all the time at colleges! Keep an eye on your things, okay?”

“Wait- Who’s a thief?” Hongjoong asks. 

Hwa curses the echoey room and ignores Joong, “Hongjoong is not a thief, mother. I’d like to think my judge of character isn’t that bad.”

“Hongjoong?”

“Yes, mother. That- That’s his name.”

“That is my name!” Joong laughs.

The line goes quiet, and Seonghwa wonders if his mom fell asleep on the line or something. She’s certainly not the type to hang up without reason. However, upon checking his phone, the call is still connected. Seonghwa’s brows knit dubiously. It’s not like her to be quiet.

“What was that, honey?” His mom asks.

“Huh- What was what?”

“Your friend, what’s his name?”

“Hongjoong, mother. Kim Hongjoong- please don’t look him up.”

“She won’t find anything!” Hongjoong shouts from his seat in the room. Hwa has half a mind to shout back “I know”, but then he’d expose himself for being an e-stalker.

Hwa’s mom laughs,“No, no that is just a riot!”

“What’s so funny?” Seonghwa asks, more confused than ever.

“I can’t believe after all these years, you go to college and make a friend named Hongjoong!”

“Why… Why is that unbelievable?” Hwa doesn’t know if he wants the answer. Maybe she’s delirious. It’s way past her bedtime.

“What, you don’t find it funny?”

“Find what funny?”

“Your- Your friend. His name is Hongjoong.”

“It’s… Not a very funny name. Mom, did you take too much cold medicine or something?”

“What- No! I- Don’t you remember, honey?”

“Remember what?”

“I can’t believe you don’t remember, after all those years of obsessing. It was just nonstop, you would never stop talking about it.”

“About what, mom? What don’t I remember?”

“I don’t know how it’s possible you forgot. He was all you ever talked about back then.”

“Wh- Who?”

“Your imaginary friend, Hongjoong.”

Chapter Text

“Hongjoong, I don’t know if this is safe,” Seonghwa looks over the precipice of the waterfall warily.

“You’re never gonna learn how to fly properly by just jumping off of rocks by the hideout,” Joong says.

“B-but we’re so high, and there’s so many rocks. I feel like I’m gonna go splat…”

“You’ll be fine, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong hops over a few rocks to join Seonghwa’s side. He gives the black-haired boy a gentle half-hug, “Trust me, I’m older than you.”

“Just by a year!” Seonghwa pouts. The difference between ten and eleven is barely even a thing, really.

“Hwa, it’s easy, really. You believe in the power of magic, right?” The redhead asks.

“Well, I’m here, right?”

“Just answer the question, Hwa.”

“Yes, I do. Of course I do, I mean, look at this place!” Seonghwa takes in his surroundings. Even though it’s blustery back home, Neverland is always beautiful and tropical. All kinds of forest life sprouts from the ground. There’s giant trees with leaves bigger than two lost boys put together and flowers tinier than Seonghwa’s thumbnail. They come in all sorts of vivid shades of green and floral tones. The mist at the bottom of the waterfall makes a pretty rainbow stretch across the river it feeds into. Neverland is beautiful and unlike any place Seonghwa has ever seen.

“That’s it, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong urges. “You just gotta believe. Just take a deep breath-” The redhead illustrates his instruction by acting it out, “-close your eyes if you have to and jump. Just think about magic, and imagine yourself lifting up.”

“O-Okay,” Hwa gulps. He peers over the edge of the waterfall again, and his heart jumps into his throat. “Okay, deep breath…” He takes a couple of deep breaths, just to be sure. “Close my eyes… Wait-! Y-You’ll catch me if I fall too fast, right?” 

“Yes, Hwa! Of course I will!”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Seongwha, I promise.”

“Okay, good. Right. Right.”

“Seonghwa-”

“I’m going, I’m going. Alright, again,” Seonghwa squeezes his eyes shut. “Deep breath… Eyes closed and- and jump!”

Hwa does it. He actually does it. Every bit of logic and common sense he has screams at him to not do that, but he did it anyway! His eyes open, and he yelps as the rocks down below approach quickly. He chokes on his breath as he tries to recover his wits. The free fall makes his tummy do flips, and his limbs flail uselessly.

The last step. He forgot the last step.

Believe.

Seonghwa covers his face with his hands and mutters to himself, “Believe in magic, believe in magic, believe in- in magic!”

Suddenly, Seonghwa’s descent comes to a screeching halt. He gasps and opens his eyes. Checking his surroundings, he’s… He’s floating!

He’s floating all by himself. 

Seonghwa hovers just above the rocks down below. To think, a couple seconds more and he’d be toast! But he’s not! The idea elates him so much, that he floats higher and higher. Quickly, flying transitions from something terrifying to something intuitive. Seonghwa plays around with it. All he has to do is think, believe, and imagine where he’s going. He sends his body up, up, up above the waterfall’s edge, and he beams at Hongjoong.

“See!” Hongjoong laughs happily. “You’re a natural!” The redhead sparkles as he begins to levitate. “Of course, you can’t beat me.”

“Maybe not yet,” Seonghwa laughs, “But we’ll see about that.”

“Oh, respect. I like a guy who doesn’t back down from a challenge.”

“I was gonna say the same about you!” Seonghwa sticks out his tongue and abruptly zooms up into the sky. 

“Wh- Hey! Did you just try and get a head start on me?!” Hongjoong yells after the other.

“I didn’t try,” Hwa laughs. “I did!”

The two boys soar through the sky after one another. Fairy dust glimmers in their wake, leaving trails of sparkling twirls across Neverland’s blue sky. Without a care in the world, the two own the sky that afternoon. It belongs to them alone, and nothing can change that.

Snow drifts down from the night sky above. The tiny flakes amble down almost lazily, as if they’re procrastinating joining their brethren on the surface below. Seonghwa can hardly blame them. Every time he breathes in, his nostrils freeze, and the crisp air blisters his lungs. Gloomy weather like this is oppressive, and if it wasn’t freezing, he’d probably plop onto the ground, too. Instead, he huddles his down jacket closer, burrowing his face into the high collar of the puffy hood. 

Seonghwa yawns, taking his phone out of his pocket to check the time really fast. Oh, crap, he thinks. His eyes blow wide open when he reads the time: “2:43AM”. Twenty-four hour libraries truly are a double-edged sword. It’s so easy to lose track of time, and hours go by in the far reaches of the library during which Hwa doesn’t see another soul. This is why he opts to study with other people usually. Unfortunately, Hongjoong was unavailable, and Hwa knows his normal squad is way too damn distracting. Hongjoong is distracting, too - just in a different way. At least Hongjoong doesn’t yell obscenities in public or get him thrown out of libraries. Hwa can’t say the same for the others.

Hwa sighs, doubling his pace toward the dorm. Tomorrow’s first class isn’t too early, thank god. All he can think about is bed as he powerwalks through the deserted campus. It’s sort of nice, actually. The snowflakes catch the light as they drift down, and everything is so muted, so quiet. It’s like the blanket of snow on the ground muffles the entire world around it.

For a moment, Seonghwa feels like he’s the only person on campus.

Like he’s the only person in the entire world.

A strong wind gusts, cutting through his layers and breaking his content daze. Seonghwa winces, turtling into his jacket as much as possible. He wonders how much further he has to go as he passes one of the science buildings. His dorm is just beyond the second block of science and engineering buildings. He passes between two of the science labs and emerges in front of where the northside dorms start. There’s the old building that sort of looks like a british boarding school, then the other old one from the eighties that just looks boring. Hwa’s lucky he got into a new-ish building that’d been designed to be eco-friendly and all that. It’s still old, but less old! There’s a few with the eco friendly model on the block, and his is in the middle of them. 

He counts as he passes in front of them. One new building. Two new buildings, and…

Seonghwa’s heart drops, and he freezes. A flash of red peeks out from the top of building number three. Hwa recognizes it immediately, and his legs break out into a run before his brain can even comprehend the sight. No, he tells himself, it can’t be. There’s no way it’s Hongjoong on top of the building. Students don’t have roof access, period. Even if he did, how would he have gotten on top of that building - it’s not even their dorm.

Hwa rushes to the building, just to assure what he’s seeing is real. Unfortunately, it’s no fever dream or sleep deprivation delusion. It’s not even another person. Nope. That is Kim Hongjoong in the flesh, staring down the side of a dorm building. He’s not just by the edge. Seonghwa can see the other’s toes just over the building’s side.

Is this a parkour thing? Seonghwa asks himself. He eyes the gap between the two buildings. No, it can’t be. That would be insane. The gap between buildings is far too large for anyone to clear, and the only things for a person to hold onto would be window ledges. The window ledges hardly qualify as hand or footholds, really. Plus, they’re so spread out, a person would have to be a climbing god to actually make use of them.

Panic seizes Seonghwa’s insides. It squeezes his lungs and presses down heavily on his heart. The RA swallows hard, trying to assess the situation. He glances up at Hongjoong agian. The redhead hasn’t noticed him. How could he with his neck craned like it is? His gaze is fixed above on the silver glow of the moon. It’s beautiful, yes, but that doesn’t explain why Joong is just a stiff breeze away from falling to his death.

Hongjoong moves, and Seonghwa’s heart stops. He’s powerless to act as the other hops off of the edge of the building. 

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa shouts at the top of his lungs. He doesn’t give a shit who’s sleeping. Once again, his feet carry him before his mind fully comprehends what’s going on. “H-Hongjoong!”

The redhead appears to almost move in slow motion as gravity begins to tug his body down. His head turns, and he finally notices Seonghwa. An expression of shock comes over him when their gazes lock.

Then the shadows of the wide alley he jumped into swallow him up.

“Oh fuck- Oh fuck- Fuck- Hongjoong!” Seonghwa cries. Thick, suffocating sobs bubble up in his throat, pushing out of his mouth forcefully as he sprints into the alley. “Shit, shit, please-” Hwa pleads with nobody in particular as he nearly falls flat on his face running. His head whips around frenziedly in search of Hongjoong, all the while despair rakes its agonizing claws down his chest. 

“Please be okay, please,” Hwa cries. He rushes to the spot that Hongjoong had been above, but no dice. “No,” Seonghwa mutters, turning around and checking the alley again and again and again. He looks at where he came from - there’s nobody. Then he checks the other direction - still nobody.

“No, no, no,” Seonghwa murmurs over and over. Where is he? Where is he? All Seonghwa can find is icy asphalt and amber street lights. Dread filling him to the brim, Hwa inspects the side of the neighboring building. He winces, half expecting to see a body plastered on the side, blood gushing down the brick. He’s grateful when all he sees is bare brick. That does little to alleviate his tension overall, though.

“Hongjoong?!” Seonghwa calls out desperately. “Hongjoong? H-Hongjoong?!” A sob tears through his throat. “H-Hongjoong?” Hwa checks the alley for the umpteenth time. It’s dark, even darker the further he goes, but he’s determined. Even if the sight will traumatize him, he can’t leave knowing what Hongjoong did.

In the inky darkness, a silhouette vaguely begins to take shape. Seonghwa gasps and bolts toward the blocky looking thing. The smell tells him right away it’s a dumpster. Hwa wonders if it’s open or not. If Hongjoong managed to land on trash, maybe he survived. Seonghwa hadn’t heard anything, but he tells himself that it’s the most likely possibility. Hwa desperately holds onto that hope as he slowly approaches. He steels himself, clutching his heart, the cold all but forgotten in lieu of what he’d just seen.

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa yells, approaching the dumpster. “Hongjoong!”

“S...Seonghwa?” A tiny voice comes from the dumpster. “Wait- It’s you?”

“Holy shit,” Hwa practically drops to his knees from sheer relief. They’re not in the clear yet, though. Joong is definitely gonna need medical attention. Seonghwa’s brows furrow upon seeing the closed lid of the dumpster, and he starts opening it.

“Uh, Seonghwa, I’m over here,” Hongjoong says, his voice tinted with amusement.

“Huh?” Seonghwa grunts dumbly. He blinks confusedly and follows the sound of Joong’s voice. The redhead is not inside the dumpster but he is, in fact, behind the dumpster. Hwa’s jaw drops, and his mind goes blank when he sees Joong. The redhead looks… Fine. He’s fit as a fiddle, crouching behind the dumpster with a slightly confused face.

“Y-Yeah. Sorry, I, um, I didn’t know it was you,” Hongjoong says.

“Wh- B- B- You- How? How did you-?”

“How did I what?”

“You- You- You- You jumped off- off of there-” Seonghwa points shakily to the top of the building. “Off of there- way up- up five stories there, and- and-”

“Wh… What are you talking about?” Hongjong asks sheepishly.

“What am I talking about?”

“You sound crazy. Seonghwa- Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? I- Are you okay? You- That was a five story drop! I- I saw you just- just jump off of there and-”

“I- What?!”

“You- You were there trying to- to parkour or something off of the top of the building!”

“Um, no I wasn’t.”

“I- What?!”

“I- I definitely was not. Doing that.”

“Y-Yes you were. I saw you. You- you were- you saw me.”

“Seonghwa, I was walking.”

Seonghwa feels delirious and dizzy,“What? No, I- How does that explain why you- Why are you behind a dumpster, then?”

“Well,” Hongjoong says flatly, “I was walking home alone, late at night, and then some crazy guy started yelling at me.”

“O-Oh,” The adrenaline drains from Seonghwa’s body, and exhaustion takes its place. Confusion and tiredness make for a head-spinning combination that does nothing to help his also plummetting self-esteem. “Uh…”

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong finally stands up and dusts off his knees. “How much sleep have you gotten in the past week?”

“Uh,” That’s a good question, Hwa thinks. Less than a person ought to, in light of recent events.

Hongjoong heaves a sigh and joins Seonghwa by his side, “Let’s walk back together, yeah?”

“Y… Yeah. I- You’re not pranking me, are you?”

“Why would I be pranking you?”

“I just- I swear, I know what I saw are you- are you really being serious?”

“What do you think you saw?”

“You jumped off that building, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says seriously. The two pick up into a slow trawl toward their dorm. “Scared the shit out of me.”

Hongjoong stays quiet for a moment before answering softly, “Seonghwa…”

“It was… It was crazy, like for a second, it looked like you were falling in slow motion. Like you were floa-”

“Seonghwa I’ve got a question!” Hongjoong interjects all of a sudden.

“H-Hm?” Seonghwa’s brows raise confusedly. “Oh, um, sure.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, I just, um, you- you know it’s- we’re the end of the semester. I mean, we’re close to the end of the semester, and, um I- I like our dorm.”

“You… Like our dorm?”

“Y-Yeah. A lot,” Hongjoong nods as the two emerge from the alley into the street. Under the amber lights, Seonghwa can see the flush on Hongjoong’s cheeks and nose. His heart melts a little at how damn cute he is.

“So what’s your question?” Seonghwa asks curiously. Some of the jitters from before still needle his insides, but most of them have transformed into fluttering butterflies.

“I was, um, wondering if there was any way I can stay.”

“Wait- Stay- what?”

“Stay in the dorms,” Hongjoong says. “Like, I know most people don’t change dorms between semesters, but to be honest, I don’t wanna go back. The dorm I’m in now is quieter, and it’s closer to my classes. My old place was more of a freshmen dorm, so everyone was partying and it’s always a mess. I- I know that’s a lot to do with roommates, but still...”

“Well, you can put in a request,” Seonghwa responds. He hadn’t even thought about Hongjoong’s dorming situation. Technically, Hongjoong isn’t a resident of his dorm. Assuming all of the damage to his place is fixed, he would be expected to go back for the spring. He’d already gotten so used to just being across the hall from Hongjoong. The vicinity facilitates a lot of their hangouts. Would they be as close if they werent as close? The thought of growing apart terrifies Seonghwa.

“You’re right, it’s not common, but it’s not unheard of, either. Situations change,” Hwa replies. He’s already searching his memory for dorm switch policies.

“D’you think they’d let me in?” Hongjoong asks. “I mean, my roomies really are barely in. I swear a couple of my suitemates just use the dorm as a closet.”

“Look, it’s not up to me,” Seonghwa frowns. “But, lemme look through my handbook and stuff, see what I can dig up. I might be able to help you along with the process.”

“Really?” Hongjoong beams bouncily. 

“On one condition,” Seonghwa replies with a grin.

“What do you want? A coffee? Snacks?”

“My condition is that… You have to admit that you’ll miss me if you move.”

“I- Wh-What?” Hongjoong guffaws.

“You know it’s true,” Hwa teases with a massive grin. 

“I am not saying that. Nope.”

“Then you can forget about having my help.”

“Ugh- You just want me to boost your ego. Yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

“You’re not denying it, though.”

“Wh-What?”

“You’re not denying it,” Hwa singsongs with a smirk. “You’re gonna miss me so much .”

“N-No.”

“You’re gonna cry yourself to sleep because of how much you miss me.”

“No I’m not. If anyone’s gonna cry, it’ll be you.”

“Huh? Me? I don’t think so.”

“You’re a total crybaby.” 

“What?! No, I’m not,” Seonghwa bumps the other lightly on the shoulder. “You’ve never even seen my cry once .”

“Mmm, but I can tell.”

“Can you?”

“Yup. Call it intuition. I can see it in my- my third eye-” He makes a strange, vaguely ninja-esque jutsu gesture, “-your inner crybaby.”

“Okay- On second thought, nevermind. I’m not helping you.”

“Seonghwa!” Hongjoong gasps. “Oh my god, fine. I’ll miss you. Idiot.”

“Now was that so hard?”

“Yes, yes it was, now come on, let’s get you to bed,” Hongjoong runs behind Seonghwa and starts pushing him roughly. “Before you hallucinate anymore.”

“Wh- Hey- Hey! Oh my god-!” Seonghwa laughs.

The veil of quiet muffles their laughter as they bicker on. For the rest of their walk, they’re the only two in the world. Them and the snowflakes sprinkling down serenely from the sky. As cold as it is outside, Seonghwa has never felt warmer. He relishes in that warmth for as long as he can, basking in it like its the light of a fire.

Thirty minutes is probably the longest that San and Mingi have ever been quiet in one another’s presence. Seonghwa is astounded when the half hour passes and he realizes none of them has said a word. That occurrence alone illustrates just how dire finals week is. San flips through flash cards while Mingi stares at his computer with a sort of out-there, dead expression. Seonghwa, across from them, grinds away at physics practice questions. Beside him, Hongjoong quietly plugs away at calculus equations. 

Seonghwa had initially been nervous as hell to introduce Hongjoong to his friends. He’d been doing so slowly, in relatively small groups and infrequent occurrences so as to not overwhelm him. Every study group or impromptu anime night feels like a ticking time bomb for indecency. It’s only a matter of time before Yunho starts twerking or San and Mingi start, well, being themselves. By some miracle of good fortune and better friendship, Hongjoong has not been scared off yet. Part of this is due to the unspoken cooperation his friends have engaged in. At this point, Seonghwa has given up on denying that he has a crush, and all of his friends are rooting for him. They almost sorta-kidna try to act not like complete asses around Hongjoong. Whatever conduct isn’t covered by the nonverbal agreement gets quickly shut down by an icy glare from the eldest himself. It’s a sytem that works.

Even more miraculous is how well Joong actually gets along with them. It almost makes Hwa feel jealous. Hongjoong actually seems to get along better with his friends than him. Seonghwa takes it as a good sign that Joong gets along with them at all, and he tries not to die inside when he sees Hongjoong petting San or babying Jongho. Today’s Mingi’s first time meeting Joong, though, and it’s been quiet. Even though part of Seonghwa doesn’t actually want to know Mingi’s opinion, the greater part of him is dying to hear it.

Hwa’s phone is on silent, but he notices the screen light up with a notification.

Speak of the devil.

Seonghwa opens the message, checking on Joong to assure the other can’t see. He reads the message and tries really hard to suppress a groan.

Mingi : give him a handie under the table

Hwa eloquently answers:

(You): fuck off.

A stupid giggle across the table tells Hwa that his message has been sent and recieved. He quickly gets one back:

Mingi : ill cover for you promise

Seonghwa taps an answer back:

(You): shouldn’t you be studying??

The message following comes just seconds later.

Mingi : shouldn’t you be dating him by now??

(You): the fucking irony of you pressuring me for time

Mingi : idk what ur talking about

(You): denial isn’t just a river, mingi

Mingi : actually it is The Nile 🤡

(You): 🙄

Mingi : srs tho, whats the hold up

Mingi : the semester is basically over dude

(You): yeah exactly

(You): whats the point? Its finals now, then we’re going on break

(You): were not SUPER close. Idk he prob wouldnt wanna hang out over break or anyth we dont live close

Mingi : so?

Mingi : sext 😫🍆💦💦

(You): ….

Seonghwa shoots Mingi a dirty look, in response to which, Mingi sticks his tongue out. Hwa rolls his eyes and gets ready to stash his phone when another notification pops up on his phone. It reads: “You have been added to a group chat with Mingi and Sannie ☀️”. Hwa bites down a curse and shoots both of them a dirty look. Before he can try and leave, he gets barraged with notifications.

Sannie ☀️: whats this about you being a pendejo

Mingi : a what

Sannie ☀️: pendejo. Friend in class taught me the word, its a swear 🌚

Mingi : what does it mean 

Sannie ☀️: chickenshit, coward, fucktwat

(You): die

The second he dares acknowledge them, he gets the “ Sannie☀️ and Mingi are typing…” message. Oh brother.

Sannie ☀️: why dont u just ask him out already?

(You): i WAS explaining to mingi that the timing is all sorts of shit

(You): who wants to date during finals??
(You): then its break and like. What if it fades w/ distance? Idk i dont want it to get weird

Sannie ☀️: that is pendejo behavior

Mingi : same

(You): well thank you for establishing that i am, apparently, a coward

(You): anything else?

Sannie ☀️: dude just ask him out fr

(You): no. what makes u think he’ll say yes?

(You): i like being friends w him u kno

Mingi : if nothing else youre hot

(You): thank you mingi

Sannie ☀️: because if u dont ask him out ill blackmail u

(You): LUL

(You): you WHAT

Sannie ☀️: bro do u not remember what u told me the other day

(You): ??

Mingi : ??

Sannie ☀️: remember we were drinking at YeoWoo’s??

(You): doesnt ring a bell

Sannie ☀️: fine lemme lay this shit out for u

Sannie ☀️: u dont ask him out

Sannie ☀️: ima tell him the truth

(You): that i am… into him??

Sannie ☀️: that the real reason ur attracted to him

Sannie ☀️: is bc he reminds u of ur gay awakening imaginary friend

Seonghwa chokes when he reads that, and San makes a tiny squeaking sound. The eldest glares angrily at the other. He wouldn’t dare . Would he? The devil himself covers his face in an attempt to suppress his squeaky cackling. Meanwhile, Hongjoong sits peacefully just beside Seonghwa, none the wiser.

Mingi : so its true :O

(You): no

Sannie ☀️: ur face says it all :)

(You): die

Mingi : wait i didnt hear this full story whats up???

(You): its nothing

Sannie ☀️ is typing...

(You): there is no story

Sannie ☀️ is typing…

(You): the story is that if this were the late 1800s i would challenge u to a duel right now

(You): and whoop ur ass

Mingi : oooo im so scared 😫

Sannie ☀️: SO :) we were drinking at YeoWoo’s and idk we got to playing a sort of truth or dare thing - i think u were like passed out at this point tbh mingi - anyways. Obv we ask hwa to spill abt his massive crush on joongie uwu and while tight lipped normal hwa is too cool for school, our good friend DRUNKhwa was ALL BOUT THAT

Sannie ☀️: after like 11323 soliloquys abt the guy, hwa talked abt how he hung w joong one day n his mum called n said he had an i m a g i n a r y friend named hongjoong. Liek ok whatev. Its. a thing but THEN IT gets weirder

Sannie ☀️: Seonghwa presses his mum and basically hwa had an imaginary friend as a kid who - get this - was named hongjoong, was a sparkley fairy and had red hair

Sannie ☀️: i shit you not, hwas words not mine

Mingi : oh my god

Mingi : oh my GOD

Mingi : HAHAHHHSAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHAH

Sannie ☀️: she mustve known right then that her son was a v special boy

Mingi : HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAH

Sannie ☀️: literally a flying sparkling fairy boy

Sannie ☀️: sigmund freud is climaxing in his grave as we speak

Mingi : HAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH

Sannie ☀️: in conclusion seonghwa is lusting after his gay awakening imaginary friend

Sannie ☀️: and i cant blame him like the dude rly is here in the flesh

Sannie ☀️: looking like that

Mingi : life is not fair

Mingi : hwa did u cast a spell or something

(You): i hate u both

Mingi : im srs its not fkn fair

Mingi : hwas wet dream gay awakening fairy man is in the flesh n wants to fuck him

Mingi : like where the fuck is sailor jupiter to give me the strap??

Mingi : bitch

Sannie ☀️: hol up

Sannie ☀️: all the anime chars in the world and u pick sailor jupiter?

Sannie ☀️: the lesbian icon??????

Mingi : power and confidence 😫😫

Sannie ☀️: hello bottom police??? 

Sannie ☀️: song mingi is on the loose again

(You): when I die then you will know

Seonghwa can feel his face burning, and when he looks up at the other two, they’re hunched over, scarcely containing their laughter. The two exchange a look and start laughing more. Whatever drug they’re on, Hwa wishes he had some. 

“We’re gonna get snacks,” Mingi says shakily, barely holding back giggling.

“Yeah we’ll- we’ll be right back,” San adds with a snicker. The two slink off shakily and make it two steps before cracking up. 

Hongjoong finally notices their buffoonery and raises his brows, “What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” Seonghwa answers, cheeks burning.

His phone vibrates, and a new message from San pops up:

Sannie ☀️: nows ur chance !!

Seongwha slamps his phone onto the table screen-side down, “Nothing.” He repeats.

“Weirdos,” Hongjoong says with a laugh and a shrug. He returns his attention to his math, and Seongwha ends up getting sucked into the other again. Hongjoong truly is stunning. He has the most perfect, beautifully sloping button nose that Hwa has ever seen, and his lips always look heavenly. Sometimes, during his low points in self-control, Seonghwa just watches the other’s mouth. It’s depraved, he knows, but how can he help it? His mouth is just sheer perfection - the plush lips, the perpetual pinky tone, the way they curve perfectly and reveal flawless teeth when he smiles. Even in the shitty lighting of the library, his skin glows. Highlighter. He remembers from the first time they met, Joong wears highlighter. Is it that?

“Hey, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says.

Joong raises his brows and takes his attention off of his notebook, “Hm?”

“You look nice today. Like, all glowwy.”

“O-Oh, thanks,” Hongjoong flushes immediately, and Seonghwa hopes it’s a good thing. “Yeah, I- I just do, um, BB cream and a little highlight. That way people can’t see I’m dying inside.”

“Well, it works,” Seonghwa replies. “What’s that stuff you put on your cheeks again?”

“Highight?”

“No, like, what’s it called? The brand?”

“O-Oh, um, it’s sort of a, uh, small apothecary brand. Like, um, indie. You probably wouldn’t find it anywhere…”

“I didn’t mean to, like, get it. I just remember it had a fun name. And it was pretty I actually grabbed it out of the basket when I saw.”

“Oh, well, uh- it’s called fairy dust.”

Seonghwa nods. That’s it. Fairy dust. 

Something passes through Seonghwa’s mind. It’s like a spark of recognition, an inkling of knowledge, a memory. However, that something passes like a bullet train through the station. It’s nothing but a blur, leaving only a gust of air in its wake. Before he can even make a move to board, the train is already gone.

“It suits you,” Seonghwa says. “It’s, like, really natural but still boosts your look.”

“Uh- Do you want something?” Hongjoong replies, sweeping a hand through his hair sheepishly. Is he flustered? Or maybe it’s just all the reading frying Seonghwa’s retinas.

“What- Why do you think that?”

“Just- Complimenting me out of nowhere.”

Seonghwa gives the other a coy grin, “Nah. Just felt like it.” With that, he goes back to his homework, pretending he’s not totally sideying the other for a reaction. He always feels like he’s on the back foot with Hongjoong in terms of moving stuff along. That’s not to say he really expects anything at all. He sticks by his gut feeling: the timing is off. Maybe, just maybe, if he’s lucky, he can keep contact over break. Then he might think about it.

But still, it feels nice to see the other one blushing for a change.

Seonghwa huddles himself as he drifts through the frigid night air. Even with his extra fluffy socks and flannel pajamas on, he’s shivering like crazy. Hwa guesses he can’t expect anything less. After all, it’s Christmas. Well, the last few hours of it, anyway. Seonghwa loves Christmas as much as any kid. There’s presents, family, tons of fun movies and yummy snacks. His dad always cooks a big breakfast, and mom lets him eat sweets all day, even before dinner. He gets tons of time off school after, too. So, basically, it’s the best holiday. Period.

But this one ran sorta long. Seonghwa loves his family a whole lot, but the adults sure do love gabbing. They talk about grown up stuff like the president and the boring dramas they watch. On Christmas, it seems like “goodbye” really means “we’re gonna start sorta leaving and maybe we’ll be gone in an hour”. It felt like it took forever for Hwa to tear away from his family.

After pretending to sleep for awhile, Hwa finally stole away with a bag of goodies. He feels like Santa Claus flying through the air with a sack of presents. His heart dances with excitement. He’s a bit sad he couldn’t be there during the day to celebrate with the lost boys, but he knows they’ll understand. He helped decorate the hideout at least. The group of them strung up lanterns and wrapped lights around some of the palm trees. They nailed stockings above their bed coves and put garland and bows on everything they possibly could. Seonghwa’s super eager to see the entire camp lit up on Christmas night. It’ll be magical, no doubt.

The ice cold air gradually warms up as Seonghwa nears Neverland. Hwa can see the shore, a dot in the ocean in the distance. The crescent moon’s light shines down brilliantly on the little slice of paradise. By the time Hwa is close to the hideout, he already feels sticky from the hot air. That’s the one downside of tropical jungles, no pretty snow, no hot cocoa, no sledding or skiing, either.

Seonghwa lands in the camp and is surprised to see it empty. He supposes it is past bedtime, but he thought the lost boys would make an exception. The fire still crackles gently in the center of the camp. Hwa doesn’t know if he’s ever seen it put out. All of the lights are strung around and between the trees making a pretty circle of colorful light.

“Guys?” Seonghwa calls out.

No response. Hwa shrugs and skips into the den quietly. If they’re asleep already, then he’ll just deliver the presents and leave - truly like Santa Claus! Seonghwa tiptoes in, hoping not to disturb anyone. A couple of lanterns keep the underground base from being totally dark. 

“Hello?” Hwa whispers.

Still no response. 

He starts stuffing stockings with their respective gifts. Some extra cookies he’d swiped from home, candy canes, and gacha toys he’d won over the past few months. By the fourth stocking, Seonghwa finally notices that the bed cove is empty. Hwa pauses for a second. He checks the ones he’d visited. They’re empty, too. As he keeps going, he makes note. Empty, empty - all of the bed coves are empty.

Had the lost boys gone somewhere?

Or worse, could they be in trouble?

Seonghwa doesn’t hesitate. He’s only got one gift left, anyways, and that can wait. The black-haired boy runs out of the den and leaps up. He flies high above and swiftly surveys the canopy.

“Guys?” Seonghwa calls out to the quiet forest below. “Guys?” He calls again. Flying higher and higher, Hwa expands his search perimeter. However, it gleans nothing. He doesn’t even see a pirate ship anchored off shore. When he flies by the mermaid’s gorge, the malevolent creatures are completely mum. 

“G-Guys?” There’s no way that Seonghwa is truly alone - right? He starts getting anxious as he retraces his flight closer to ground level. Still nothing. The birds are all asleep, and the chattering crickets are no help, either. When he asks the lemurs, they just shrug, and the monkeys just throw things at him.

Dejected and ready to give up, Hwa slowly drifts up the face of the highest peak Neverland has. 

Hwa floats above the canopy and begins his last ditch attempt. He gasps because, finally, he sees a person! A silhouette darkens the glowing moon. Seonghwa recognizes the highlighted red in a flash. He zooms toward the peak to join the leader of the lost boys.

A big smile on his face, Seonghwa greets the other, “Hongjoong!” He gently perches himself next to the other on the rocky peak. Looking out, Seonghwa can see why Joong settled up there. The view is stellar - literally. There are stars everywhere the eye can see, it’s like they cover the sky in a blanket, and everything below looks so tiny. The trees just look like broccoli, and the sand nothing more than a tiny sliver of dirt.

“Wh- What are you doing here?!” The leader gapes.

“I’m here to celebrate Christmas, duh!” Hwa beams.

Hongjoong coughs out sheepishly, “Shouldn’t you be with your family right now?”

“I am,” Seonghwa answers confidently. Hongjoong gives him a look, and the black-haired boy elaborates, “I spent the day with my family, but… You’re my family, too.”

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything to that. He just sort of squeezes his fists in his lap. 

“Merry Christmas!” Seonghwa continues, waving the bag in front of Joong’s face. “Here, I brought you some… Cookies- homemade, oh- I left the candy canes at the base, um… I have the thermos with hot cocoa… Oh, and this-” Hwa delicately removes Hongjoong’s present from his bag. “- this is, um, for you.” His heart patters loudly as he gauges the other’s reaction.

“I- I um made it, but if you don’t like the colors, I can make you another one,” Seonghwa says nervously. He holds up the hand-made friendship bracelet - a simple chevron of red, navy, and white. He thought the colors suited Joong. 

“You made this yourself?” Hongjoong asks, awed.

“U-Uh, yeah.”

“Can you put it on me?” Hongjoong extends his wrist.

“Sure!” Seonghwa responds with a smile. 

“This is awesome. The colors look perfect with my hair, right?” Hongjoong beams, holding his wrist up to his hair to compare. He looks so happy, it makes Seonghwa happy, too. He understands why adults talk about how Christmas is about giving. When he sees Joong all giddy and glowing, it makes Seonghwa wish he could give the boy a present every day just so he can see that smile.

“I’m glad you like it!”

“I love it! I’m never taking it off.”

“Well, good, because I double knotted that,” Hwa laughs. 

Hongjoong laughs, too, but his smile falters, “I- I’m sorry. I… I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s okay,” Seonghwa shrugs. 

“I like your pajamas, by the way,” Hongjoong adds. “Very festive.”

“Oh, gosh, thanks,” Hwa looks down at the plaid flannel. His mom buys him a new set every year that he can’t wear until Christmas night. The fuzzy socks have penguins on them. Not his coolest getup, but it is comfy. Hongjoong, on the other hand, is much more suited to the tropical weather in his regular attire of a tee shirt and shorts. He wonders where Joong keeps all of his clothes - Hwa’s never noticed a closet in the hideout before. Maybe there’s a hidden apartment, or it’s fairy magic. Thinking of the den makes another question come up in Hwa’s head.

“Hey Joong,” Seonghwa asks. “Where are the other lost boys?”

Hongjoong doesn’t look away from the moon when he answers, “With their families.”

Seonghwa’s eyes go wide. The lost boys always sleep in the den, and they’re always there when Hwa gets there - even if it’s first thing in the morning. Nobody has ever talked about their family except for Seonghwa himself. He just assumed that they all lived there with Hongjoong, that they were all native to Neverland.

Aren’t they?

Has Hongjoong been alone this entire time?

On Christmas? That thought is so sad to Seonghwa, he doesn’t know what to do. He hugs Hongjoong out of impulse, squeezing him tight because, well, what else is there to do? Yeah, it’s sorta lame and sappy, but it’s different than being at school. Seonghwa doesn’t have to put up any fronts around Hongjoong. He can be as weird and affectionate as he wants.

“Huh?” Hongjoong grunts.

“I’m so sorry. I would’ve come sooner if I knew you’d be alone!”

“H-Hey, don’t feel bad for me or anything like that!” Hongjoong wrestles an arm free and flicks Seonghwa on the forehead.

“Ow! Hey!” Hwa flicks him back. “What was that for anyway!”

“You were getting to soft on me,” Joong says.

“Wow, Hongjoong, where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“Who cares what day of the year it is. Christmas is cool, but it’s not the end of the world if you spend it alone. In the end, it’s just another day like the rest of ‘em.”

Seonghwa frowns, “But holidays are supposed to be spent with people you care about. That’s what makes them awesome- Well, that and the time off from school.”

“Psh,” Hongjoong huffs. “I’d rather spend Christmas alone than be surrounded by a bunch of grown-ups squeezing my cheeks and making me pose for pictures.”

Hwa tilts his head curiously. The truth is, he’s never asked about Hongjoong’s parents or family or anything. From day one, he’d alway assumed that Hongjoong was a product of Neverland, some combination of fairy dust and humanity mashed up into one magical boy. But… The way he talks about Christmas, it’s almost like he knows something about it.

“Have you- have you celebrated Christmas before?” Seonghwa asks.

“What? I mean- not really. I’ve just heard, you know.”

“Right, that makes sense,” The black-haired boy nods. “Would you ever… Want to celebrate a holiday?”

“What do you mean? We decorated the hideout like mad men. That’s pretty celebratory to me.”

“No, I mean, like, with people?”

Hongjoong tenses, “I have my people. We just don’t celebrate on the day of.” He shrugs.

“Hongjoong, I mean- I’m inviting you to come over some time.”

“What?” The redhead gasps in surprise.

“Yeah. You should come over for New Years or something. My family lets me stay up super late and we get to eat so much yummy food-”

“No!” Hongjoong practically barks. “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so, uh, loud.”

“That’s fine,” Hwa replies in a small voice. “I get it. You- You like it here.”

Joong turns away slightly, and his voice sounds different when he responds, shaky, “I belong here, Seonghwa.”

“W-Well, if I can visit here, and you can visit there, I don’t see why- why you can’t maybe belong a little bit to both.”

“This is my home, okay? I have everything I need here. I don’t need any grown-ups or presents or big family, so- so don’t worry about me,” Joong’s voice sounds even thicker.

“Hongjoong-”

“Just have lots of fun and eat lots of food for me, okay?”

“Hongjoong…” Seonghwa wants to reach out and hug the other again, but something stops him. He shrinks back and nods, “I will. But, I mean, since I’m here, how about we celebrate a bit now?”

Hongjoong sniffles loudly, obviously trying to suppress crying, and nods. Seonghwa does him the courtesy of pretending he doesn’t notice.

“Hey,” The black-haired boy makes an effert to sound upbeat. “I know it’s hot, but… Have you ever had hot cocoa made with real milk and imported chocolate?”

That rouses the other’s attention, and he turns, nose ruddy and eyes puffy, “I-Imported chocolate?”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa grins, withdrawing his thermos from his bag. “It’s from, like, South America or something. It comes in like a big bar- I almost stole the entire bar so I could eat it, but mom said it’d be bitter. But with milk, it’s really good and-” He takes out the baggie of cookies he’d swiped, “-it’s literally perfect with sugar cookies.”

“That sounds awesome.”

“It is- We just gotta be careful with the thermos…” Seonghwa cautiously removes the thermos cup and pours some steaming hot chocolate into the plastic mug. He opts to drink out of the thermos itself. 

“Oh gosh- It’s so hot,” Hongjoong laughs.

“Yeah, uh, you usually don’t drink outside in tropical weather, I don’t think.”

“Probably not.”

“It’s more of a nice, snow day drink. But, uh, I imagine that Neverland doesn’t get a lot of snow.”

“No snow in Neverland?” Hongjoong lets out a soft chuckle. “You’d be surprised.”

As if on cue, a cool breeze rolls through Neverland. Seonghwa’s mouth drops open into a big “o” as he watches the sky darken right before his eyes. Shadowy clouds drift into view, swirling around the moon until its silver light is all that’s left in the sky.  For a second, nothing happens. Everything feels quieter. Like the world itself is getting ready to go to bed.

Tiny specks catch the moonlight. At first, Seonghwa is confused. It couldn’t be. There’s no way that it’s...

“No way,” Seonghwa gasps quietly. Delicate snowflaks fall peacefully from the sky, completely unbothered by Neverland’s warm temperature. Even with the cooling breeze, it’s still comfortable for Hwa - which means it’s way too hot for snow. But… It’s falling anyway.

“I told you,” Hongjoong smiles. “Neverland is full of surprises.”

“This is crazy!” The black-haired boy laughs.  He sticks out a finger and watches a beautiful little snowflake land on his finger. Of course, the tiny ice structure melts almost immediately. Seonghwa sticks his tongue out and tries to catch one, and Hongjoong decides he wants to do it, too. 

Their Christmas night turns into a snowflake eating contest under the moonlight. Seonghwa can’t think of a way he’d rather spend the last hours of Christmas. He’s overjoyed for the most part, except, toward the end of the night, his good mood starts to fade. Hongjoong animatedly tells a story about something, and out of nowhere reality just sort of hits Seonghwa.

He’s twelve years old now.

This is the first time he’s ever thought to spend Christmas with Hongjoong like this, and it very well could be the last.

“Seonghwa, come down in your pajamas! I wanna take a picture!”

Seonghwa sighs. Every year - she does this every year . He thought that maybe after high school she’d stop. Then, he thought maybe graduating high school would be the milestone, the last time he’d have to deal with his mom’s Christmas tradition. Alas, here he is, third year of college, wearing a matching set of pajamas end getting summons for the annual family picture. At least mom’s taste has adjusted accordingly, he notes. She’s swapped out the loud patterns for more subdued, sophisticated sets. Seonghwa begrudgingly admits she hit the nail on the head with the elegant navy and white set she’d gotten him.

“Hwa- Get the teddy bear!” His mom calls up into his room. Her voice seriously carries, and Seonghwa muses that she probaby could’ve done opera if she’d set herself to it.

“I’m looking for it!” He shouts back. The teddy bear in question is a stuffed toy he’s had since before he could even walk. Their first ever Christmas photo with him has the bear, therefore every other picture has to have the bear. Seonghwa groans. It’s somewhere in his closet.

“Can’t we take this picture after breakfast,” Hwa grumbles to himself as he rifles through the storage bins sitting on the closet floor. When none of those yield results, he goes high, muttering to himself, “Where is that damn bear…” He swears he put it in one of the plastic bins last year. Unfortunately, they’re not see-through nor are they labelled.

“Should’ve fucking put a sticker on it or something,” Seonghwa mutters to himself.

“Seonghwa-!”

“I know, mom! Ten minutes! Give me ten minutes!” He calls back down. He silently prays that dad spikes the orange juice again.

“Fine, but if you’re not down in ten we’re taking it without you!” His mama shouts. It’s a total lie, they’ve never taken the picture without him, and they’re not gonna start now. Of course, Seonghwa doesn’t care enough to call her on the bluff. It’s not like he’s trying to take long.

“Okay, maybe it’s- is it- This one…?” Seonghwa murmurs, pulling at a bin on the high shelf. It’s just high enough to make grabbing it slightly perilous. He’s certain whatever’s in it isn’t gonna crush him to death should he drop bit, but he wants to avoid it anyway. “Come here,” He beckons the bin, like it’ll listen. “Come… Here…” The tips of his fingers just barely brush the grab handle, and he gets on his tippy toes to secure it.

“That’s right, now come… On… Dow- Fuck!” Some way, somehow, the entire bin just teeters off of the shelf completely. The lid, apparently not properly secured, slides off, and the entire contents of the bin pour out.

“Fuck- Fuck!” Seonghwa curses as a barrage of random shit comes crashing down on him. “Jesus christ. Fuck.” Hwa coughs a bit - the result of all the dust his old stuff had kicked up. Heaving a sigh, he inspects the pile of junk that’d fallen at his feet. It looks like he’d manage to upend a bin of old books.

“Huh,” Seonghwa grunts. He kneels down, fanning out the pile a bit. His irritation curbs slightly when he reads the old titles. There’s yellowed volumes of manga he used to read and old fantasy serieses that were the shit back in elementary school. He picks up one book, a well-worn anthology of fairytales, and rifles through it. A grin crosses his lips as he skims the familiar stories - Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Hansel and Gretel…

Hwa puts the book down, determined not to get distracted. He fans out the pile even more, and a familiar biege plush sticks out from the wreckage.

“Ah-ha,” Seonghwa says with a smile, “There you are.” Just as he reaches out to rescue the teddy, another book catches his eye. This one’s different from all the other’s. It’s not a neatly bound published piece but a worn journal. Seonghwa’s brows furrow as he delicately picks up spiral notebook covered in stickers. In thick, shaky marker, the front reads: “ADVENTURE JOURNAL”. 

Hwa smiles fondly, just vaguely remembering those times as a child when he’d treat any walk outside as an adventure. Bugs were fearsome beasts and stray cats his familiars. It was a simpler time, then. He can’t help wondering what kind of stuff ran through his mind during those days, and he opens to a page to see.

“Dear journal,” Seonghwa reads aloud with a laugh, “Today I saw an orange cat on the street. She was very fat, I think she was-” He snorts, “-I think she was pregnant. I hope she has a beautiful, healthy litter. I’ve decided to call her Tabatha - I think that’s- that’s a good cat name… I tried to feed her, but she wouldn’t- wouldn’t take the- oh my god- take the yogurt. I left it so hopefully Tabatha and her litter eat well- why did I even keep a journal?” He laughs.

Humored, Seonghwa flips to another page, “Dear journal, today I- oh- oh my god- today I… Got a love not - oh, I meant note - from a girl- holy shit. I can tell it’s a love note because there’s a lot of heart stickers on it, and she seemed all giggly when she handed it to me. But I don’t love her back so - oh my god this is brutal - I’m just gonna give it back to her tomorrow and not open it . I hope she gets the idea then- holy shit. I was a savage.”

“Let’s see, next page… Dear journal. Mom took me to church today which I hate, it’s so boring, and I can’t even daydream. Why do we have to stand up and sit down all the time? The songs - oh my - the songs all suck, too. One thing I wonder is if Jesus is a ghost, and he is always watching us, does that mean he is-” Seonghwa snorts again, “-he is haunting us? That sounds kind of creepy. I don’t want some old ghost guy watching me in the bathroom. It’s not okay for strangers to see you naked - so why is god an exception? Because he’s a ghost? That doesn’t make sense - what? What?”

Hwa flips to another entry a bit later. He notices that this one actually has a date, and judging by the handwriting, he’s at least a year older than the beginning of the journal.

“Dear journal, I know it’s been awhile, but I had to write. Today I had the most amazing adventure of my entire life- aww, I’m so cute. What was it?” Seonghwa eagerly reads on, “I woke up at night and a mysterious shadow was running all around my room. Hm. It was so scary at first, but then I realized it seemed sort of lost. I caught the shadow with my foot, and then something even crazier happened… A boy came in through the window- what?” Seonghwa’s face scrunches with confusion. He wonders if he’d just gotten bored as a kid and started writing down fairytales. Honestly, that part of his childhood is sort of a blur. It’s not completely out of the question that he glossed over it entirely because it was so unremarkable.

Seonghwa reads on, “A boy came in through the window. He flew with the power of…”

He takes pause, putting the journal down for a second. A strange sensation twists in his chest, but he can’t place it. It’s sort of a perpetual itch - not a good one, that’s for certain. However, it doesn’t necessarily feel like something malicious or terrible, either. It’s sort of like something is bothering him. It’s like looking at hanging picture and realizing that it’s just slightly askew. At first, it’s sort of easy to miss, but then it becomes persistant and impossible to ignore.

“He flew with the power of fairy dust,” Seonghwa reads out again. “The boy had a fairy named Maddox, and with a few sprinkles of Maddox’s magical fairy dust, he could fly through the sky. I helped the boy- I helped him what? Reattach his shadow?” The sandy blond squints at his own writing. What a strange story. Even though it’s ridiculous, and reading it is sort of a waste of time, he can’t stop. Not halfway though! 

Seonghwa chugs on, “The boy was so grateful that he invited me to fly through the sky with him. The fairy Maddox, though sort of sassy, agreed and the boy sprinkled fairy dust all over me. He showed me the way to his home, a magical place called Neverland- hm. Not a very good name,” He comments under his breath. “He told me the directions of Neverland, and it’s pretty easy, but just in case I forget, all I have to remember is- is… Huh.”

Seonghwa eyes the very conspicuously written bit. Apparently, his child self had opted to write it in thick marker and highlight it, then draw a bunch of lines under it - just for emphasis. The tickling botheration scratching at his chest grows more intense as he reads the passage further.

“All I have to remember is the second star to the right is the light that will lead me there.” Now, why does that sound familiar? Seonghwa turns the page - this one was a two-pager, apparently. “At first flying was the scariest thing ever. Seriously. People are not meant to fly, but he made it look so easy. He let me hold onto his hand and guided me all the way to Neverland. I got to meet his gang, the- the lost boys-”

A bell rings in Seonghwa’s head. Another flash of familiarity. He’s heard that somewhere before. Or heard something like it. He knows he has. Unable to pin it, Hwa ignores the gnawing sensation and moves along.

“We almost immediately got into it with the pirates that run rampant across Neverland, but we showed them whose boss- Heh. I’m sure we did,” Seonghwa lets out a wry chuckle. “The leader was nice enough to fly me home, and I got tucked back into bed before mom noticed I was gone! Oh, an exclamation point! The leader of the lost boys said that I can come back tomorrow, too. He said I can hang out with them any day of the week, all day if I want to. They even have a secret hideout where I can sleep over. For now, I’m gonna keep it on the down low, though. I think mom would freak out if she knew I flew to a far off land and fought pirates- yup, no shit. The leader is really cool and nice I like him alot- ha, alot, like one word. Don’t think I got over that hump until high school,” Seonghwa laughs. “I like him a lot. He’s got a fairy friend, but I think what’s coolest is his- oh, one more page.” 

“The coolest is his-” Seonghwa flips the page without any thought, reading along, “his bright red hai…”

Seonghwa’s blood freezes. He blinks rapidly and even wipes his eyes to make sure they’re not decieving him. His throat constricts. Suddenly, the air in the room is suffocating. 

“His bright. Red. Hair,” The words fall out of Seonghwa’s mouth as his eyes dart across the page.  “His name is Hongjoong, and I thought he looked cool so I drew a picture of him.”

The picture is by no means a beautiful artistic rendition. However, the elements are there. It accomplishes the basic task of conveying a certain set of features. There’s the tiny yellow circle signifying the fairy. The shaky doodle of the boy looks neither particularly tall nor stout. He’s got earrings. A few faint freckles and birth marks here and there, a tank top and shorts and, of course, bright red hair. Young Seonghwa even drew little sparkle specks around him to signify fairy dust.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa breathes out. He can’t really comprehend what he’s feeling right now. It’s some sort of sickening mix of anxiety and devastation, outlined with botheration and confusion. What is this? What is this?

“What the fuck?” Seonghwa murmurs. “What the fuck? What the fuck ?” He throws the journal down like it’s poison, shooting up to his feet impulsively. He can’t even bear to touch the thing, kicking a few books over to cover the damn thing up. What the fuck? What the fuck ? He feels like he’s just looked at something he shouldn’t have, like he’s just learned some horrible, forbidden knowledge that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Seonghwa!” His mom’s thundering voice pentrates the weird veil that’d cast itself over Hwa without him knowing. He snaps out of the weird funk and returns to reality. “Seongwha you better not have lost the bear!”

“N-No, mom!” He shouts back. Now he’s panicked for a different reason. “I’m- I’m coming I just found it!” He grabs the teddy bear and brushes the dust off of it. Before leaving his room and joining the mandatory Christmas fun, Hwa takes a couple more minutes just to decompress.

He takes a few breaths, letting the truth truly sink in.

“Holy fuck,” He whispers to himself, shaking his head. “Holy fuck, you really are lusting after your gay awakening imaginary friend.”

He assures himself that it does nothing to invalidate his feelings for Hongjoong, and that’s the end of that. Seonghwa rushes down the stairs, happy for a distraction. However, there is one incredibly massive issue with celebrating Christmas:

One of the primary colors signifying the holiday is red.

And every time Seonghwa sees red, he can’t stop himself from thinking of a certain someone.

Spring semester move-in is far less exciting than fall move-in. The freshmen no longer have the same eager glow in their eyes, and the sun hides behind layers of dreary gray clouds. Everything is cold, slippery, wet and cast beneath an oppressive, monotone filter. In spite of that, life has to go on. People need to get moved back in, and that falls under Seonghwa’s job description. The silver lining is that most of the core stuff stays in the dorms which makes the process easier. Few people need whole carts to move things. It’s more about the coordination of drop-offs and directing traffic in and out of the building.

The constant opening of doors assures that Seonghwa never quite reaches a comfortable temperature. He counts down the minutes until he can leave his post and cuddle under a blanket. However, he didn’t volunteer to direct check-in traffic without reason. Every time someone comes through the doors, Seonghwa’s head whips around. He desperately searches for a familiar flash of strawberry red hair or the color of his favorite beanie. So far, Seonghwa has had no such luck. He did help Hongjoong with the moving request as he promised, but that’s no guarantee. Obviously, people who’d lived there prior have precedence. 

Seonghwa bites his lip nervously watching people go by. Though he tries his damndest to be professional, his mind constantly wanders.

“Seonghwa,” Another RA, the one from the floor down, taps him on the shoulder.

“Huh?” Hwa turns around, mouth ajar dumbly. 

“You’re done,” She points to the clock in the lobby. The hands already read past two o’ clock.

“Oh,” Seonghwa says, sounding more disappointed than he wanted to. “Are you sure you don’t need any help? A lot of people are coming in later.”

The RA shakes her head, “Nah. You know how strict they are with hours for stuff like this.”

“Right. Yeah, okay, um, cool.”

“Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, dude.”

“Yeah, you too,” Seonghwa greets amicably. He drags his feet all the way up the stairs and continues doing so until he reaches his door. Sulkily, he paws around the pockets of his jacket for a key. Then a force crashes into him without warning, knocking him into the wood of his dorm door. “Oww! Oh my god-” Seonghwa pivots on his heel angrily. “What the fu- oh. My god.” His rage dissipates in an instance.

“Holy shit,” Hongjoong lets out a snort. “I- I’m so sorry, I- I genuinely did not think I would- you would do that.”

“No, it’s- it’s fine, it’s okay,” Seonghwa tries to play it off like he wasn’t about to blindly deck Joong in the face. “H-Hi, hey, what are you, um, what are you doing here?”

Hongjoong giddily flashes a paper, bouncing like a schoolboy who’s had too much sugar. Hwa squints as he skims it. 

“Wait- You got in?”

“Mhm!” The redhead nods. “Sorry, I was, like, I got over excited and I tried to hug you and I sorta, um- tackled you, yeah sorry about that.”

“Jesus, you scared me, too,” Hwa shoves him lightly on the shoulder. “Y’know if geomatics doesn’t work out you could always take up rugby. That was… Damn.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“How much caffeine have you  had, you’re, like, really bouncy right now.”

“It was an early morning,” Hongjoong replies sheepishly.

God.

Seonghwa went through a few phases of devastation after learning that, by some insane twist of fate, he found someone who looked exactly like his “gay awakening imagnary friend”. 

At first there was denial. There’s no way that it could be right? There’s no way Hongjoong - his real Hongjoong - is modelled after a standard apparently set at age ten . Then came anger because what the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with him? How fucked up is it to subconsciously weigh someone against a twisted ideal set by a little boy? Then it was bargaining. He wonders where he went wrong and promises to be less shallow, to think more with his head than his heart or his dick. He wonders if maybe he does a lot of good deeds he can wake up and realize that this was all a bad dream. Or that he was colorblind this entire time. Depression slid in next. He wallowed in doubt and self-loathing, wondering if this has unknowingly impacted all of his relationships. Did all of his relationships fail in the past because of this strange subconscious obsession he didn’t know about? Is he just a piece of shit for objectifying ever person with red hair and hopping from one to another until finding the standard? The truth is, his feelings for Hongjoong are intense, and part of him dreads that when it inevitably goes south, he will never, ever experience such love again. He wonders what the point even is, really? Hongjoong may not be interested at all.

After broiling with all of the negativity and eating way too many holiday sweets, Seonghwa finally came to accept it. Yes, he has feelings for Hongjoong. Yes, Hongjoong looks exactly like an imaginary friend he apparently used to have. He can’t help it, he can’t change the past. What he can do is try his best to have a good future. And, honestly, as long as he keeps his intentions clear and pure, what’s so wrong about crushing on the guy?

Boiling it down to the simplest points: Seonghwa has a type. Hongjoong happens to be that type, and Seonghwa’s really into him. But Hwa knows deep down that it’s way more than the physical that draws him in, anyway. Hongjoong is charming and funny. He’s hard working and caring. He’s sensitive and empathetic. He’s sweet, kind, funny, savage, artistic, creative, and utterly brilliant. He is so many things. He is so much more than just a hot guy with red hair.

“So, where’s your dorm now?” Seonghwa asks.

“Same suite as before, second to the right.”

Second to the right. 

That phrase still sort of strikes a dissonant chord in his heart. He tries to ignore it, though.

“Nice!”

“Yeah, you know that guy who, like, basically used the dorm as a closet? Well, he moved out! I was already in there, and with your RA recommendation magic thing- bam!” He waves his hands in a flourish. It’s funny to remember how closed off he used to be compared to how vivid he is now. Part of Seonghwa was afraid that they’d sort of go back to square one after spending weeks apart. The texted a bit but never had any really long, deep conversations or anything. Thankfully, it seems like things are more than fine.

“It was not magic.”

“Totally was.”

“Okay Mr. Fairy King.”

“Ugh-!” Hongjoong makes a move to flick Seonghwa’s forehead, but Hwa deflects the hand easily.

“Wow! This abuse! After I helped you get into this dorm-”

“You just said-”

“And here I was, thinking of helping you move in. Nevermind. I’m gonna take a nap.”

“Wait!” Hongjoong gasps. “Wait- You were gonna help?”

“I was going to, but- oh!” Without warning, Joong tugs Seonghwa by the arm, leading him to his suite. “Wh- Oh my god, what is with you today!”

“Venti americano!” Joong singsongs as he drags Seonghwa to his suite. 

“You didn’t even let me finish!” Seonghwa laughs, putting up no real resistance to being dragged forward. His stomach flips as the other happily skips toward his dorm room. Shit. He’s cute. Hwa has to stop himself from combusting.

“I have the perfect job for you, actually,” Hongjoong says when he leads Hwa back into the dorm room. Unlike the last time Joong had moved in, there’s no bunk bed. Now it’s just two twin extra long beds - the standard. Unsurprisingly, his roomie is already situated and also absent. Hongjoong’s space had been fairly bare bones before, but now Seonghwa’s starting to see signs of actual, personalized life. He’s got a whiteboard hanging already full of to-do’s and a few posters hung up. A pretty strung garland with hooks displays tiny polaroids. Hwa finds it sort of odd that none of them are people. They all look sort of dreamy; blurred lights and closeups of textures, trees silhouetted against the sunrise and the brilliant, blue sky. 

“Seonghwa, over here,” Hongjoong beckons the other to the closet. He gestures to a couple of plastic bins, “Can you, um, can you put those up there?” He points to the top shelf.

It takes Seonghwa a second to fully get over the fact that Hongjoong is asking him to put stuff up high because he can’t reach. His face burns from blush, and he presses his lips together to stop himself from smiling. Apparently, his poker face sucks, though, because Hongjoong pouts.

“Don’t give me that look,” The redhead says, crossing his arms.

“I’m- I’m not giving a look,” Hwa replies.

“I see the look on your face.”

“What look? I don’t have a look.”

“You wanna laugh at me.”

“No I don’t.”

“For being short.”

“I’m- I’m not. I wouldn’t make fun of you,” Seonghwa replies, picking up one of the bins. “I would just say…” His voice gets so tiny, even he can barely hear it. “It’s cute.”

“What did you just call me?!”

“Nothing!”

“I heard that!” 

“Just- Let me get the other one up there!”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t pack a stepladder!”

“I’m not blaming you for anything!” Seonghwa laughs.

“I can see it in your eyes,” The redhead accuses, jabbing a finger into Hwa’s arm.

“Wh- I am not.”

“You’re looking down on me right now!”

“You act like I’m some tower. I’m normal.”

“Then what does that make me?!”

“It makes you… Cute-”

“I am not cute!” Hongjoong pouts adorably; Hwa isn’t sure if he’d done that on purpose or not. 

Hwa throws his hands up in a gesture of surrender, “Okay, fine. Fine. You’re not cute. You’re clearly a hardened thug and you are very intimidating and tough looking.”

“Better,” Hongjoong laughs. He skips away from the closet entrance, and Seonghwa can hear the squeak of him getting on his bed. “Since you’re here, can you help me get this poster up high, too?” He says from the room.

Hwa chuckles, rolling his eyes. His heart does flips just from being in the other’s presence. He feels sort of relieved that his feelings for Hongjoong weren’t just some passing infatuation. Even after not seeing him for awhile and barely talking, his hands still get clammy and his heartrate hastens. 

“Sure thing, Mr. Gangster,” Seonghwa says facetiously. Just as he’s about to step out of the split walk-in closet, something catches his eye. Sitting on one of the shelves on top of a pile of clothes is a book. It probably doesn’t go there, he figures, so he grabs it.

“Hey, I think you left this book in your closet,” Hwa says. The cover reads: “Sketch Journal”. “Wait- Hold up, you draw, too?” Makes sense. Hongjoong is pretty artistic, and he likes fashion. Maybe he’s got designs in there, Hwa muses. He’s probably really good at it, too. Seonghwa slides a finger beneath the binding without really thinking about it. It wouldn’t hurt just to take a peek, right?

“Huh?” Hongjoong grunts from his bed. “What are you talking ab- What are you doing?!”

“I wanna see your drawings,” Seonghwa says matter-of-factly.

“Hey, they’re- they’re not that good,” Joong hops off of his bed. “Just gimme that and-” He grabs for it, and Hwa holds it out of his reach. Now he’s interested. 

“Y’know, every artist says their stuff is crappy when it’s actually awesome,” Seonghwa replies. 

“Can I show you some other time?” Hongjoong reaches for the book again. Seonghwa purposefully holds it above his head so Hongjoong can’t get to it.

“Why are you so afraid of showing me? Now I’m curious,” He teases. “Wait- Is this where you draw all of your furry porn?”

“Ha ha,” Hongjoong breathes out wryly. “If I say yes, can I get it back?”

“Hmm…” Seonghwa pretends to think about it. “Just let me see one drawing.” Holding the book up, he opens it at a torturously slow pace, just to bother Joong more.

“I promise you it is boring- Why- Why are you stealing my stuff?!” Hongjoong huffs as he hops up, trying to reach the book.

“The only thing I am stealing is a peek. What’s got you so worked up anyway? Is there nudity in here? Is there- oh my god don’t tell me, this is full of drawings of me!” Seonghwa laughs. He squints, just starting to make out scribblings on the cracked open page.

“Seonghwa wait-”

“I am literally just gonna look at one page- one page, okay?”

“Wait- Please don’t-”

“Oh, what’s this? These are words, though…”

“Seonghwa-”

“Is this a news clipping? A collage-?”

“Uh- Seonghwa, please go out with me on a date!”

“I- Wh-What?” The entire world brakes to a screeching halt. 

“What did you say?” Seonghwa asks, eyes wide and entire body alight with elated shock. The book drops limply onto the floor. Hwa’s too taken aback to bother picking it up. As far as he cares, the book doesn’t exist. Because Hongjoong just… Asked him on a date?

Did he really just ask Seonghwa out on a date? Is this real life?

Hongjoong’s face is almost as red as his hair, and his lips are pressed tightly into a thin, anxious line. He dodges Seonghwa’s eyes any time the blond tries to catch his gaze. Is he being sincere? Or is this one of his jokes?

“Um. J-Just forget I said anything,” Hongjoong murmurs, eyes cast down onto the ground.

“Did- Did you just ask me out on a date?” Seonghwa almost pleads with the other, praying inside that it was real. It could’ve been something else, though. Maybe he’d heard Joong wrong, and this is all a misunderstanding.

“Uh- Um,” Hongjoong freezes up. It’s not dissimilar to when they’d first met. Tensity coils around the other visibly, making his entire body lock up into a defensive, closed off posture. He fidgets with his fingers as he responds.

“Hongjoong, please be honest with me. I- I won’t hate you no matter what.”

“Well, then, yeah. I- I did. I mean, uh, it wasn’t so much asking as it was sort of demanding,” He lets out a dry chuckle. His eyes are still on the ground. “B-But, if you’re not into me like that, that is so, so fine. I promise I won’t be angry about just- just friendship or anything. I am perfectly fine in the friend zone. I love the friend zone. Friendship is great… ”

Hongjoong rambles on. Seonghwa registers the moving of lips, but he doesn’t really listen to what’s being said. He’s too overcome with emotion. The guy he’s been crushing on intensely for months likes him back. That same guy asked him out. Seonghwa almost feels ashamed for not being the one to make the first move. If there wasn’t a rib cage and layers of skin stopping it, his heart probably would’ve burst through his chest and thrown itself at Joong by now. As is, Seonghwa has to consciously stop himself from just grabbing the guy and squeezing the life out of him. 

It’s such a relief, Hwa almost wants to cry. He doesn’t have to keep everything pent up anymore. He likes Hongjoong and Hongjoong likes him, and assuming he doesn’t completely tank the date, things can go well. Really, really well. He’s already thinking of cute things they can do and spots they can go to. Hongjoong is way newer, so Seonghwa has a lot of places to show him. Hwa’s brain flies off into the land of fantasy, full of floating hearts and sparkling flowers and holding hands and cute laughs.

“...can you at least say something, please?” Hongjoong begs, bringing Seonghwa back down onto earth. 

The blond blinks the sparkley anime hearts out of his vision and nods, “I-I’m sorry, I just-”

“There is… There is nothing to be sorry for,” Hongjoong frowns.

Wait. No. That’s not it! Seonghwa scolds himself for not properly getting his point across. He forcibly pulls his thoughts out of his own head and puts them out into the air before Hongjoong convinces himself that Seonghwa doesn’t like him.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Seonghwa says warmly. “I’m sorry because to me it’s just- I think it’s ridiculous you would ever think I don’t like you.” He lets out an embarrassed laugh at the admission. “Of course I’d love to go out with you. I’ve, uh, I’ve actually liked you for a really long time.” 

“M-Me too,” Hongjoong replies, awed. His frown upturns into a coy grin, and he nudges Seonghwa playfully. “Wait, so, you had a crush on me?” He gets back onto his bed and grabs a poster he’d laid out. 

“Had… Have?” Seonghwa runs a hand through his hair. He joins the other on the crappy dorm mattress to make good on his promise to help. “Does it matter?”

Hongjoong hands Seonghwa another poster and snarks, “Oh my god, you had a crush on me.” He bumps the other with his hips.

“Wh- So did you!”

“So when did you know?”

“Know what?”

“When you had a crush on me?”

“Wh- You liked me too! Why am I being questioned?” Seonghwa scoffs, entire body ablaze at this point. Aren’t these things supposed to conclude at the confession? Figures Hongjoong would dig more just to get a rise out of Hwa.

“What’s your favorite thing about me?”

“You know, I really like it when you’re, like, not talking,” Seonghwa jeers.

Joong sticks his tongue out and starts giving instructions on where to hang stuff. A restless giddiness buzzes in the room as the two continue. Seonghwa already can’t wait until he can take Hongjoong out. The two aren’t particularly affectionate, so he wonders if that’s why? Maybe Joong has just been shy this whole time? As lame as it is, the prospect of just holding the other’s hand and giving him a hugs makes Seonghwa nearly ascend into the next dimension.

It’s just different with him. He’s different.

It seems too good to be true, and Seonghwa even asks Joong a few times if he’s for real, if he wants to take it back. He means it as a joke when he does. But of course, he knows: it’s only half joking. Still, no matter how annoying they are to one another, not once does Hongjoong take his words back. The stars must’ve aligned or there must be magic at work, Hwa tells himself.

Staticy music plays from the old gramophone Hongjoong somehow found one day in the forest. Some stuffy classical tune comes from it. It creates the perfect mood for what is the first and probably last official lost boys tea party. They played truth or dare a few days ago, and the youngest admitted that he never had a tea party before. He always saw the girls in his class having them and secretly really wanted one. 

Tea parties aren’t exactly Seonghwa’s speed, but for their cutest, youngest member, he’s happy to oblige. Honestly, after setting everything up, he sort of sees the appeal. The lost boys gathered all the necessary bits and bobs for a proper, fanciful tea party. They carried the biggest table from the den out into the clearing. The fairies kindly wove a lacy tablecloth, and Hongjoong treasure hunted for fancy plates and trays. A couple of the lost boys foraged herbs for tea which, apparently do grow in the forest. The boys pushed up everything from found chairs to rocks and logs to serve as chairs. Hwa contributed food. He saved up some of his allowance and bought as many pretty, little sweets as he could along with some sandwiches. Unoccupied spaces were given to dressed up stuffed animals, and the lost boys each tried their best to look as fancy as possible.

Hongjoong, donning a feathered hair clip and a silky robe, shouts, “I believe it is time to call our tea party into order!” He purposefully throws on an accent to sound more distinguished.

“Uh… What do we do?” One of the lost boys asks confusedly. He’d found a tie somewhere. It’s long and skinny, sort of like him.

Joong shrugs, “I dunno. Eat?” He picks up the delicate tea cup in front of him, “Don’t forget, though: pinkies out!” He sticks his pinky out. The lost boys accept the explanation and start digging into the little cakes and sweets Seonghwa had brought. 

Hwa himself is wearing part of a suit he had to wear for a choir concert the year before. He smartly went for black shorts, but the shirt and bowtie don’t look totally dweebish along with them. Hongjoong sits at the head of the table just beside Hwa. The black-haired boy’s other seat neighbor is a stuffed rabbit in a dress (Princess Fluffybutt, if Hwa recalls). 

The boys chatter animatedly, rattling off random, vaguely fancy sounding words like “cumquat” and “ubiquitous”. What’s most important is their youngest. The round-faced boy beams, bouncing happily in his seat as he nibbles on finger sandwiches.

“You know,” Hongjoong says to Seonghwa, “I never really got all the hype about tea parties, but I think I get it now.”

“Oh?” Hwa asks with a laugh. “Hongjoong enjoying a laid back tea party?”

“You insult me you cur!” The redhead shouts dramatically. “I am not Hongjoong. I am Lady Lucky!” Out of seemingly nowhere, he pulls out a fan. With a snap of the wrist, it unfolds, revealing a beautiful peacock pattern. 

“Wh- Where did you even get that?!”

Hongjoong - no, Lady Lucky - grins, “Abandoned cruise ship a few clicks off shore.”

“Wh- Really. I’ve never seen it flying in before.”

Joong shrugs, “It must’ve drifted on currents or something. We managed to find a lot of stuff there. Including this-” He does a spin, “ -glorious getup.”

“Not a bad look. I’m sorta jealous.”

“As you should be!” Joong boops Hwa on the nose with his fan. The leader’s gaze skims across the rest of the lost boys. “Thanks you for your help, by the way,” He says more seriously.

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing,” Seonghwa feels embarrassed though he doesn’t really know why. 

“It’s not nothing. It’s something,” The redhead replies defiantly. “I mean, obviously none of us were too into this, but he looks so happy.” He smiles fondly in the direction of their youngest. “I mean, I dunno why he wanted to get dressed up to eat sweets but, eh. Makes him happy.” The “proper lady” plops down in his seat unceremoniously.

“Yeah, tea parties are sort of an enigma to me.”

“A what?”

“Enigma, like- a mystery.”

“Oh.”

“Yup. It seems like an excuse for adutls to dress up and gossip about each other.”

Hongjoong snorts and nods to the stuffed bunny, “Any good gossip Princess Fluffybutt?” The stuffed bunny, unsurprisingly, has nothing to say. “I agree-” Joong turns to Seonghwa, “-she says you look like a butler in your suit.”

“Wh-! Hey!” Seonghwa snatches a mooncake off of the plate in front of him and chucks it at Hongjoong.

“Ugh- That is no way to treat a lady , Seongwha!” Hongjoong grabs a sugar cube out of a bowl in front of him and chucks it back. “It’s a good thing you’re never gonna date one, because throwing things-” He throws another, “-is rude!”

“Ow! Ow- Hey!” The sugar cubes are actually sort of hard! Seonghwa retaliates, grabbing another mooncake and throwing it. “What kind of a lady throws stuff?!”

“This one!” Joong fires back.

The sophisticated tea party rapidly devolves into a glorified food fight. It’s tragic, really. Seonghwa spent his own hard-earned allowance on some of the food-converted-projectile-weapons. However, they say all is fair in love and war.  It’s way more fun than just sitting around and talking. Seonghwa really can’t imagine that. 

Like, adults really just dress up all nice so they can sit and talk to a person?

Lame.

“You can do this,” Seonghwa tells himself to the mirror. “You can definitely do this.”

Every fiber of his being is hellbent on instilling the opposite message: that he can’t, in fact, do this. This being take Kim Hongjoong - young Fairy King, gay awakening imaginary friend, hot guy from across the hall, savage cutie Kim Hongjoong - on a date. Seonghwa’s spent the past week or so trying to play it down. It’s Hongjoong. They’ve hung out plenty of times. They sang entire musical scores of movies they watched and suffered over finals before.

But now it’s a date, so it’s different - right?

Seonghwa never wanted to look bad while hanging out with Joong, but they still spent half of their time together in pajamas or something comparable. The extent of their outings took them to a campus dining hall, cheap food spot or library. They talk, yes, but they don’t talk talk. A lot of the time in one another’s company is just comfortable silence. But with dates, the point sort of is to talk. To get to know the other. While Seonghwa knows many things about Hongjoong, there’s also a lot he doesn’t know - and a lot he wants to know.

What are his real hopes? Dreams? Aspirations? What’s his dream vacation? What does he think about late at night when he’s all alone with his thoughts? Does he like cats or dogs better? Sweet or spicy?  Why red for his hair color? Has he tried other colors? Where does he want to end up in life? What are his feelings about marriage? Does he want kids? Does he want to travel the world? Why the obsession with glitter and sparkles?

Seonghwa stressedly rubs moisturizer into his skin. Never has he stressed so much about his features as he is now. Is his nose too big? What does Hongjoong think of it? Joong has such a pretty, perfect button nose. What if his big nose gets in the way of kissing? Will Hongjoong even want to kiss him? What if Hongjoong doesn’t want to kiss him? What if Joong thinks kissing on the first date is wrong? Or what if he wants to go all the way on the first night? Maybe he’s tired of being a virgin and just thinks Seonghwa’s the ideal sucker to take it from him. Is that a problem? Seonghwa thinks about it. It is and isn’t a problem. Hwa honestly doubts he could say no if Hongjoong really, really wanted to throw himself onto Hwa’s bed. 

“Stop it!” Seonghwa chastises himself for letting his mind run off the deep end. This is a date, yes, but they’re friends first. Hongjoong isn’t going to drastically change just because maybe they’re gonna hold hands. So neither should Seonghwa. “Calm down, just calm down…” He whispers to himself. Finished with his skincare routine, he checks his phone and gasps.

“Shit. Shit!” Apparently, he’d spent too much time in the bathroom. He told Joong he’d “pick him up” (aka text him when he’s in front of his door) at four, and it’s not fifteen minutes to four. Hwa darts out of his bathroom and runs to his closet, searching for something to wear. He’d spent hours the previous night trying to pick somtehing out. After tons of snaps sent to his friends and extended discussion, he woke up in the morning only to decide he didn’t like what he’d decided on. Hongjoong is always trendy and cute, and he’s genuinely into fashion. He probably wants a boyfriend who at least can display some sense of taste without being completely boring or cookie cutter. 

Seonghwa, on the other hand, considers himself fairly basic. He sort of aspires to look like James Bond - or at least the sort of laid back, college version of that. However, on his budget and body, the goal tends to diminish into something, well, not very Bond-esque. A sense of terror seizes Hwa briefly when he wonders what Hongjoong thinks about how he dresses.

“Just pick something,” Seonghwa grumbles to himself. He throws on a black turtleneck, black jeans and a plaid jacket. He quickly decides that he looks like a teacher and takes off the jacket. He tries another long-sleeved shirt over the turtleneck. It contrasts nicely, but it’s not quite working for him. Hwa throws off the turtleneck hastily, panicked as time ticks on. Being late for a first date would make the worst first impression ever. Sure, meeting times have been fudged a bit before, but those weren’t dates. Friend Seonghwa can raincheck or push back meeting up, but Boyfriend Seonghwa wants to show Hongjoong that he makes good on his promises.

In a panic, Seonghwa yanks a white tee with minimal design off of a hanger and throws it on. He tucks it in and puts the plaid jacket on again. With the tee, he feels like less of a jackass in the plaid jacket and goes with it, quickly searching for a belt to tie it together and boots. That ought to be appropriate for the event - an art gallery party thing that one of Joong’s fashion club friends got him tickets to. They were gonna do that then get some real food when they got tired of hanging out with the artsy types.

Seonghwa damn near wipes out as he multitasks like a manic man, throwing on a trench coat and attempting to button it while looping a scarf around his neck at the same time. He does the obligatory pocket check: keys, phone, wallet. Check, check, check. Checking his phone, he yelps upon seeing the time. It’s four.

Thankfully, the walk to Hongjoong’s suite door is literally seconds. Seonghwa practically leaps across the hall just to get there faster. Heart racing, he makes an effort to appear as composed and deliberate as possible. He shakily types out a text:

(You): Ready yet? :)

The response quickly comes back:

Hongjoong 🧚♂️✨: ill be out in a sec

Hongjoong 🧚♂️✨: im so so sorry im gonna be like ~5 mins ><

Hwa’s tempted to inform the other that Hongjoong could be an hour late and he wouldn’t be mad. Luckily he’d kept his initial text vague, so Hongjoong doesn’t know he’s waiting outside the door like a complete dweeb. 

(You): No problem

Hongjoong 🧚♂️✨: thank you 💖

The stupid sparkley heart emoji makes Seonghwa swoon. Yes. Swoon. It’s not like he got a lot of heart emojis before. Is that going to be a thing now? Heart emojis? For him ? He almost sinks down the wall, but the possibility of Joong popping out any second stops him. 

“H-Hey, I’m really sorry for being late,” Hongjoong says sheepishly as he emerges from the door.

Seonghwa looks up from his phone which he’d been deliberately staring at so as to not look overattentive and weird. He greets Hongjoong with a smile, and his heart does about twenty flips. Hongjoong looks absolutely devastating. He’s wearing a black beret and matching turtleneck, covered in a tan trench. To top it all off, he has glasses on. The round specs are like the equivalent to a bullet through Seonghwa’s heart. 

“You look great,” Seonghwa replies, doing absolutely nothing to hide his fondness. “It was worth the wait.”

Hongjoong’s face flushes, and he chuckles, “Th-Thank you. Are you saying all those other times I didn’t look great?”

“Yes. I’m going on a date with you because I thought you always looked horrible,” Seonghwa replies flatly. Hongjoong stuffs his hands in his pockets and bumps Hwa lightly on the shoulder.

“Alright, let’s go.”

“Yeah, lemme get the cab,” Seonghwa says, pulling his phone out.

“Oh, here, let me, um, give you my username thing. We can split it.”

“Nah, I got it,” Seonghwa insists. “It’s actually cheaper for one person to buy it, anyway.”

“But-”

“You’re the one who scored us tickets for this gallery thing.”

“But- I- I didn’t pay for it.”

Seonghwa stops and says softly, “Hongjoong, please, let me treat you. I- I mean this is hardly anything.”

Hongjoong’s resistance falters a bit. He pouts but nods in acceptance. Hwa grins and calls the cab, happy with his victory. Seonghwa tries to keep it laid back as they walk down the steps and get into the cab. However, it’s impossible to completely ignore the air of awkwardness between them. Attaching the word “date” to it exerts an almost palpable pressure. Every time they gravitate toward one another, something pulls them apart again. For Seonghwa, it’s nerves and hesitation. He could write an APA cited essay on all the ways he’d want to show affection to Hongjoong, but that doesn’t mean it’s decent to actually do it right away. There are boundaries. For all Hwa knows, something as simple as initiating a hug too quickly could cross those. Part of him thinks that might be an overreaction on his part, overthinking. But violating Hongjoong’s sense of safety is something Seonghwa never wants to do.

He wonders where Hongjoong’s head is at.

“S-So, what’s this thing again?” Seonghwa asks when the two are in the back of the cab.

“It’s an art exhibit opening party,” Hongjoong replies calmly. Hwa curses internally - life isn’t fair. How is Joong such a cool customer? Meanwhile Seonghwa feels like a mess, like a ferris wheel that’s come off its hinge and is rolling menacingly through the circus. “My friend from club knows the artist. They’re showing a new series of paintings off at the place and throwing a party to celebrate.”

“Oh. Are you familiar with the artist’s work?”

Hongjoong shrugs, “Not really. I just looked them up, but it seems pretty interesting. Very tonal and and impressionistic.”

“Oh, sounds nice,” Seonghwa nods as if he knows what those words mean.

“Also,” Hongjoong laughs. “She informed me of free h’ors dourves and drinks.” And there’s the kicker. “You ever been to any of the galleries downtown?”

“Not really. Just walked by them,” Seonghwa admits. Downtown is fairly close to campus, but he doesn’t venture there often. As good as the food nightlife is, someone has to pay for that goodness. Occasionally he’d save up extra and his friends would squad up to hit up the artisan market days or festivals. That’s about it.

“Well, neither have I, so this is a first for both of us!” Hongjoong says with a smile. 

The cab ride is short, and soon enough the two slide out of the car onto the sidewalk. Hongjoong leads Seonghwa the rest of the way - down the block and around the corner. At the door to the unassuming side-entrance, the redhead flashes his phone with the tickets.

Seonghwa gasps upon crossing the threshold. They’d entered through a door in the alley surrounded by nothing but brick. He had no idea they’d step into an elegant gallery, full of light with some soft experimental hip-hop playing. Hipster types mill about with drink in hand, and cater waiters float around with trays of goodies. The two turn their coats into the coat-check and head in.

Anxiousness toils in Seonghwa’s gut, but he shoves it aside and musters bravery. The blond loosely loops a hand around Hongjoong’s waist as they enter. It’s a fairly casual gesture, at least, he hopes it seems that way. Just a little something to let Hongjoong - and the world - know he didn’t just walk in with Seonghwa. He’s with Seonghwa. Hwa is scared to death that the other will wince or wiggle away uncomfortably. When Hongjoong doesn’t, Seonghwa counts it as a win. As a matter of fact, Joong does the opposite of recoiling. Without a word or even a look, he leans into Seonghwa just ever so slightly.

Hwa plays it cool and asks, “Wanna get a drink and walk around?”

“Y-Yeah, sounds good,” Hongjoong replies. Is he nervous? Or is it a trick of the light? Seonghwa wonders. “I wonder what they have…”

“I see wine and beer,” Seonghwa responds, scanning the gallery. “I’m sure they have water and soda, too.” He adds, knowing Hongjoong doesn’t like drinking much. The redhead once told him that he doesn’t like the taste, and Hwa can hardly fault him for that.

“Hm. I think I’ll go for wine,” Joong shrugs. The blond raises his brows incredulously, to which the other responds, “What? When in rome…” Oh god, Hwa muses, maybe he really is nervous. The two collect a glass of white wine each and start walking the space.

Gradually, Seonghwa starts learning what “impressionistic” actually means. Or, at least, how to use it in a sentence and not sound like a moron. The exhibit displays a series of oil paintings of urban subject matters. There are street corners, condemned buildings, cars in traffic, stray dogs and even dumpsters. All of these are depicted in the impressionistic style. It’s interesting to see things normally portrayed as ugly or dirty romanticized through feathery brush strokes and soft color palettes.

The pair are contemplating a painting of trash blowing down the sidewalk titled “Firework” when Joong’s gaze darts elsewhere.

“Oh- That’s my friend!” He says, waving. “You cool with saying hi?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Seonghwa nods. “Go ahead, I’m cool hanging out with the plastic b-” Without warning, Hongjoong leads them - as in both of them - toward his friend. Seonghwa’s brain short circuits for a second when he realizes: Hongjoong is introducing him to a friend. 

A bouncy girl with dark hair squeals enthusiastically and hops toward Hongjoong, “Joongie!” She pulls him into a hug (and out of Seonghwa’s totally casual, not at all agonized over waist-hold). “You made it!”

“Hey Miss Nayeon,” Hongjoong greets her. “Your friend put on a hell of an exhibit. The art looks great.”

“Aw, shucks. I have a thing for being friends with super talented people,” She shrugs animatedly. “He’s walking around here somewhere, if you see him, let him know. Of course, he blends in so much. Honestly, we should’ve gotten him a lei or something so people can pick him out.”

Hongjoong laughs as he steps back. He looks so happy, it makes Seonghwa feel like he’s floating. Hongjoong has melded into Hwa’s friend group well. He’s more than just “Seonghwa’s crush” or “Seonghwa’s friend” to them. But, still, it’s nice to see Joong so cheery around his own people.

Thinking about it more, Hwa realizes he doesn’t know much about Hongjoong’s friends at all. Seonghwa feels guilty when he ralizes that he never really asked. Joong doesn’t talk much about them, either, though. Maybe he’s just a private person. Or does Hongjoong not want his friends to know about his other circle? But if that was the case, he wouldn’t bring Seonghwa over to his friend - right?

“So, tell me,” Nayeon says. “Is this-” Her voice drops into something exaggeratedly husky, “- the boy. ”

Seonghwa’s eyes go wide, and he points to himself, “The boy?” He searches Hongjoong’s face for an answer. What he gets is a very, very red Hongjoong. Hwa’s surprised those cute little glasses of his aren’t fogging up. 

Since Hongjoong is apparently rendered incapable of speech due to sudden shyness, Hwa takes on the burden of self introduction, “I’m Seonghwa, nice to meet y-”

“This is Seonghwa, my date!” Hongjoong blurts out.

Nayeon gasps, and a massive smile takes over her face, “The Seonghwa?”

“I’m a- I’m a ‘the’?” Hwa turns to Hongjoong again, hoping to glean any sort of answer. At this point, Hongjoong is burying his face in his hand.

“Hongjoong has told me all about you,” Nayeon says cheekily.

“All about me?” Seonghwa can’t keep the hint of amusement from his tone. “Only terrible things, I hope.” He jokes.

“Oh!” Hongjoong squeaks out. “Would you look at that-” He holds up his now empty wine glass - did he drain it in the five seconds Hwa wasn’t watching? “-my glass is empty, so, I’m gonna get another wine. Or jump off a cliff, I dunno I’ll decide when I get to the bar.”

“Wh- Hongjoong!” Seonghwa calls after the redhead, but it’s too late. He’s determined, powerwalking toward the bar like it’s an oasis in a desert.

“Damn,” Nayeon laughs when he’s out of earshot, “You’re even hotter than he said you were.”

“I- He- He what?” At this poitn in the night, Seonghwa just permanently feels like he’d been dipped in molten lava. He ought to be used to the prickling sensation of embarrassment flushing his face, but it somehow surprises him every time. “He- He talked about me?”

Nayeon nods and wiggles her eyebrows - is she always like this, or has she had too much?

“A lil’ bit, yeah. He’s said some really, really sappy stuff too.”

“Has… He?” Seonghwa’s starting to wonder if the girl’s messing with him.

“Oh, some unreal romantic shit. He’s literally so cute about you it makes me soft.”

“O-Oh,” Seonghwa doesn’t know how to respond to that. He glances toward the bar, secretly willing the other to save him. “Well, I like him a lot, too.”

“Oh my god cute !” Nayeon giggles. Thankfully, Hongjoong appears from the crowd around the bar and starts walking closer. Nayeon scoots a little closer and leans in, lowering her voice so only Seonghwa can hear. With her eyes on Joong the entire time, she whispers, “Just know that if I ever find out you’re just dating him to take his v-card, or if you ever hurt him in general, really - I’ll chop your dick off and use it to decorate my sorority house’s mantle.”

Seonghwa squeaks, and a hand reflexively flinches to cover his crotch. Before he can attempt a response, Hongjoong returns, all smiles with wine in hand.

“Glad to see you chose wine over the cliff,” Seonghwa says.

“Look at you serving that wine mom realness!” Nayeon chirps jovially, the complete opposite from her threatening tone before.

“Stop it, this is like, my second glass,” Hongjoong sighs. Even if it’s from embarrassment, Seonghwa can’t help thinking it suits him. 

“That’s two more glasses than I could ever get you to drink at my parties,” Nayeon pouts. “Ugh, dick really does change a man.”

Seonghwa freezes. Actually, burns is a more apt descriptor. The mere implication sends Seonghwa’s brain into sinful territory at lightspeed. Hongjoong actually spits some of his wine back into his glass.

“Nayeon!” The redhead gripes. “This is why we can’t take you anywhere nice!”

The cheery girl cackles, “What? I’m just glad you’re trying new things.” Her pupils very deliberately dart between the two of them. Hwa does his best British palace guard impression as Hongjoong groans. 

“ Why are you like this?”

“Hm. Maybe the childhood trauma?”

“Can’t you channel it somewhere productive? Maybe your brain holds the cure to cancer and you don’t even know it.”

“Why can’t I do both? Women can do anything these days,” Nayeon jokes. “And this woman, is gonna go find another woman so-” She holds up a peace sign, “-peace.”

“You are… So much,” Hongjoong says, going in for a farewell hug.

“I know, love,” Nayeon titters. When she unlatches from the redhead, she gives Hwa a genial wave, “It was nice to meet you Seonghwa!”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Seonghwa says with a smile he hopes doesn’t look as pained as he feels. Last thing Hwa sees before the girl turns around is her gesturing between her eyes and him. “I’m watching you” she says without words. 

What a nice sentiment to leave on.

“Whatever she said,” Hongjoong coughs out, “Don’t believe her.”

“O-Okay,” Seonghwa laughs.

“So… What… What did she say?” Hongjoong asks.

Hwa’s brows raise, “Uh she said… Stuff.”

“W-Well what kind of stuff?”

“Oh. You really wanna know what she told me, don’t you?” Seonghwa smirks.

Hongjoong’s mouth falls open, “Oh, come on.”

“Hm, y’know I don’t really remember,” Seonghwa jokes.

“Seonghwa.”

“I mean, I’m trying to recall, but…”

“Seonghwa!” Hongjoong bats at him gently.

“No, now I’m not gonna tell you. You’re hitting me.”

“Wh- Seriously?” Hongjoong gasps. “Seonghwa,” He bats at Hwa again. “Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa-”

“Oh my god, are you just gonna do that until I tell you?” Seonghwa gasps incredulously.

“Seonghwa, Seonghwa-”

“You have had one full glass of wine, how are you like this?”

“Seonghwa!” Hongjoong whines, tugging at Hwa’s sleeve incessantly.

“Oh my god, fine! You brat!” Seonghwa exclaims. “You wanna know what she said?”

“Yes, please,” Hongjoong smiles graciously.

“All she said was that… You’re cute.”

“Shut up. I know her, she’s evil. She said more than that.”

Seonghwa laughs, “Okay, well, she said you talked about me- didn’t even tell me what you said, so-” Hwa throws his hands up. “She just said that you’re romantic and cute. And… I kinda agree.”

“O-Oh,” Hongjoong backs off a bit. His gaze skitters away shyly. “Just kinda?”

“Well, obviously I think you’re cute,” Seonghwa elaborates. “But, I haven’t had the opportunity to see your romantic side much yet.” It’s the honest truth. He knows Hongjoong in many ways, and while the kid is generally a romantic, Hwa hasn’t seen him be romantic.

“Okay,” Joong nods, accepting the answer.

“She also threatened me.”

“Oh. That’s more like it.”

“Yeah. Said she’d cut my dick off and use it to decorate her mantle if I ever hurt you.”

“Heh- Sorry about that. About her. She’s just… Special. A little protective.”

“No, I get it,” Seonghwa shakes his head. “You’re worth protecting. I’d say the same thing, too.”

“You’d threaten to cut someone’s dick off and use it as a mantle decoration?”

Hwa snorts, “Fine- I would say something similar .”

“You would threaten someone with physical harm for me? That’s so sweet!” Hongjoong coos jokingly. He wraps an arm around Seonghwa’s waist and pulls him close. “C’mon, let’s go over there. We haven’t seen those yet.”

Positively melting, Seonghwa obliges. His thoughts reduce to a very singleminded “Hongjoong cute, Hongjoong cute, Hongjoong cute-” loop. He fantasizes about just squeezing the life out of the other with a hug and kissing the top of his head. Part of him just wants to eat Hongjoong, that’s how charming he finds the guy. He just wants to sink his teeth into those pretty cheeks or nip the tip of his little button nose.

Hwa tries to strike the pseudo-cannibalistic thoughts and focus on the present. The two mill about a bit more, commenting on this painting or that. Hongjoong further explains impressionism - what exemplifies the style, when it began and how impressionist painters at the time were considered rebels. Seonghwa starts to gain a bit more confidence regarding the subject when they stop in front of a canvas almost as tall as him.

“Do you have a favorite yet?” Seonghwa asks Hongjoong. The painting seems to be an abandoned building of some type sometime around midday. The almost muddy looking building starkly contrasts the blazing oranges and bright blues of the sky above.

Hongjoong tilts his head, curiously taking in the sight before them, “I don’t know.”

“No?”

“It’s all sort of ugly- Like, the- the subject matter, not the art style,” He looks around, paranoid. “Impressionists usually like to paint what’s natural, so it’s a bit of a departure from that.”

“Speaks to the rebellious nature of impressionism, doesn’t it?”

Hongjoong lets out a wry laugh, “Look at you, talking all smart when you didn’t know a Cezanne from a Monet an hour ago.”

“I had a good teacher,” Seonghwa shrugs.

“Well said,” Hongjoong laughs with a smile. “Next week I’ll teach you all about color theory.”

“Oh, that sounds fun. Will you teach me how your hair always looks perfect and I never see roots?”

“I can tell you right now: it’s magic.”

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m serious, I could use some tips. Mine are starting to grow back.”

“I liked yours black better anyway. Now, for this painting I just- I find it a bit depressing to look at this kind of stuff. No matter how nicely you paint it, it’s still what it is. It’s like a reminder of the crappy direction humanity has taken. Pollution, the delapidation of infrastructure, loss of jobs, homelessness…”

“Huh,” The blond considers it for a moment. “I disagree.”

“Yeah?” Hongjoong quirks an eyebrow.

“I do,” Seonghwa replies with more confidence. “I like applying this sort of, like, pretty, thoughtful style to everyday, mundane things. Stuff that can be seen as - yeah - depressing. The way the colors are so nice sort of make these things look… Beautiful. It’s like finding beauty in the ugly, making even the biggest eyesores of everyday life into something vibrant. Like- It kinda shows that there’s a sort of captivating charm in everyday life.”

“I thought so, too,” A voice pipes up behind them. Seonghwa and Hongjoong turn to see an unfamiliar young man. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. It’s always interesting how dozens of people look at the same thing, and they never quite draw the same conclusions.”

“O-Oh, sorry, are we blocking your way?” Seonghwa mutters.

The man shakes his head, “No- Oh, the name’s Yuri, by the way,” He extends his hand. The surprised couple return the gesture courteously and introduce themselves. Seonghwa glances back at the painting, and his eye catches the little title card next to it. The card reads: “The Bakery, 2019 - Yuri Jeu”.

“Wait-” Seonghwa squawks. “You’re Yuri as in-”

“Thanks for coming to my exhibit!” The artist says with a grin. Seonghwa can feel Hongjoong’s nails dig into his side.

“Thank you for having us,” Seonghwa chokes out. “Um- Your work is great. Really thought provoking. I- I like the colors.”

“Heh- Thanks. Well, enjoy yourselves guys. Don’t be shy with the bar or the bites,” The artist amicably waves before striding off to surprise some other unsuspecting observers.

When he’s gone, Hongjoong buries his face in Seonghwa’s shoulder. Seonghwa freezes for a second because, holy shit, Hongjoong is burying his face in Hwa’s shoulder. He can feel the redhead’s breath tickle his neck and the warmth of his skin. The blond’s thoughts swim as he struggles to just breathe properly.

“I can’t believe he heard that,” Hongjoong squeaks. “I can’t believe the artist just heard me diss his work.”

“Y-You didn’t say it was ugly or bad,” Seonghwa tries.

“I said it was depressing, though which is totally the opposite of his perspective.”

“I thought art was supposed to be open to interpretation?”

“I just-” Hongjoong’s dying noise gets muffled by Hwa’s shoulder.

Seonghwa chuckles, looping his arm around the other’s shoulders, “Why don’t we get out of here? We’ve seen all of the paintings, and you’ve had a bit to drink on an empty stomach.”

“I’m not drunk, just dumb,” Hongjoong sulks.

“Okay dummy, c’mon, there’s plenty of stuff we can walk to. Let’s see what looks good.”

“I’m not dumb,” Hongjoong unburies his face from Hwa’s shoulder to flash him a dissatisfied pout. 

Seonghwa just laughs, “Fine. We can decide what you are over dinner, how about that?”

“Okay,” Hongjoong accepts it like a mopey kid.

The couple moseys on over to coat check and grabs their things. Hwa graciously offers to help Joong find Nayeon so they can say goodbye, but Joong declines. (For that, Seonghwa feels grateful.) When the two emerge into the cool winter night, Seonghwa huddles Hongjoong closer with an arm around the shoulders. Joong’s remains fixed around Hwa’s waist.

Though freezing cold, it’s beautiful out. Snowflakes fall calmly from the sky. They twinkle in the streetlights like tiny diamonds. The couple walks in comfortable silence for a few moments, just taking it in. Even the hustle and bustle of downtown feels subdued beneath the veil of clouds and snow.

A wave of nostalgia hits Seonghwa. The entire situation feels almost familiar, like deja vu. Something about the snow and holding Hongjoong... However, he can’t pin it down. Whatever stray memories his brain had thrown together hardly matter, anyway. What counts is the here and now. Here, in the city, just the two of them now in one another’s arms, walking down the street. Most people traversing the town walk rushedly, cowering from the cold. It keeps the street mostly deserted.

Hongjoong’s presence warms Seonghwa so much that the cold hardly bothers him at all. He’s so incredibly whipped it’s not even funny, but he can’t be assed to care. Seonghwa ventures a glance at the other. Hongjoong appears content to quietly walk onward until they find somewhere to eat. There’s a smile fixed on his lips and a flush across his cheeks.

Feeling bold, Seonghwa presses a gentle kiss on the other’s temple. His heart seizes up when he draws back, waiting for a reaction. He prays that the other won’t freak out or feel violated from the lack of warning.

“Wh-What was that for?” Hongjoong squeaks out the question.

“Felt like it,” Seonghwa says coolly.

Another few minutes pass by without a word. Just them, the snow gently falling and the occasionall car. Seonghwa’s nerves dance beneath his skin, and he starts worrying. Had he crossed a line? Did Hongjoong find the kiss too brazen? Obnoxious? What if he’s just not a touchy feely type at all, and he actually hates kisses?

Suddenly, Hongjoong yanks Seonghwa by the scarf. The redhead pulls Seonghwa’s lips onto his. Hwa’s eyes blow wide open with shock, but his eager body doesn’t hesitate to respond. He loops his arms around Hongjoong’s neck, pulling him closer and leans in. The blond quickly melts into the kiss. Though chaste, the kiss sends Seonghwa reeling. Fireworks explode inside his chest. His lungs squeeze, and his entire body vibrates with want and validation. He wants to just wrap himself around the other; hug him tighter, kiss him harder, pour every ounce of adoration that he’d kept pent up out.

When they separate, Seonghwa’s breathing is ragged. He can barely remember where they were and how they’d gotten for. All he can think about is those lips. Those stunning, plush, petal-like, pink lips. 

“Wh-What was that for?” Seonghwa asks dazely.

Hongjoong murmurs in a low voice, “Because I felt like it. Felt like it for a long time.”

“Me, too,” Seonghwa says.

“Mm. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Hongjoong admits.

“Well, if that’s the case,” Seonghwa says. “One more couldn’t hurt.” His eyes flutter shut as he leans in, and a tiny sound leaves the other’s mouth as their lips meet yet again.

Chapter Text

Seonghwa takes a deep breath as his body flies effortlessly through Neverland’s bright, blue sky. He floats stomach up just to catch as many rays of sunlight as he possibly can. His mom always scolds him when he’s out for long days without sunscreen, but it doesn’t matter to him. She keeps wondering how he always looks so dark when he supposedly is seldom outside. If only she knew.

The lost boys all zip and zoom across the sky. Some race, some float hand in and, and others graze the forest canopy with their fingertips for the fun of it. They all chase something - a dream, a game, a wish, or even one another. Seonghwa finds himself on the opposite end of that, though. Time chases him. It gains on him with every second of every day. The countdown dwells over him malevolently.

In just over a month, Seonghwa will turn thirteen.

Every step closer to that milestone feels like a step closer to doom, to isolation. To being away from Hongjoong, Neverland, and the rest of the lost boys. It drags Hwa down like an anchor tethered to his heart. Seonghwa wishes he could be happy in the present, but he can’t stop dreading the future.

So far, Hongjoong talks as if Seonghwa staying is an inevitability. All their promises of forever and always ring true to him. But how will that work? Thirteen makes Seonghwa a teenager. Sure, he’ll barely be one, but then what happens when he turns fourteen. Fifteen? And all the while, Hongjoong remains himself at age eleven. Can they really be friends when Seonghwa keeps growing and Joong remains a boy for life?

Seonghwa frowns. He shouldn’t be thinking about dreary stuff like that! It’s a beautiful day in Neverland. If it’s destined to be one of his last, then so be it! He may as well have fun. He stubbornly drags himself out of his hole of sadness and turns around so he’s facing forward. Determined to make the best of the afternoon, Seonghwa finds their leader. It’s easy as heck given how his bright red hair almost glows in contrast with the clear blue sky.

“Hey, Joong!” Seonghwa calls ahead of himself. “I’ll race you to the hideout!”

Hongjoong turns around, and he looks a bit baffled at first. However, the look falls and he nods.

“You’re on!” He shouts back.

Seonghwa doesn’t hesitate to take off. He propels himself forward with a wide grin, quickly surpassing the leader. Is Joong taking it easy on him? In truth, that’s the one thing Seonghwa has never been able to do his entire time in Neverland: beat Hongjoong in a race. No matter how hard he tried, Hongjoong almost always managed to pull ahead last second. He always made it look easy, too. Seonghwa decides that he can’t turn thirteen without beating Joong at least once. It’ll be a birthday gift to himself, he thinks.

“You’re slow today!” Seonghwa taunts the other as he lowers himself closer to the canopy. The black-haired boy scans the gaps in the leaves below for a good entry point. If he’s clever enough, he can draw Joong into the understory and outmaneuver him around the trees.

Surprisingly, there’s no comeback or witty remark. Hwa checks just to make sure Hongjoong is still around and hasn’t pulled impossibly ahead. The redhead trails behind him with an expression of almost strained concentration. He’s really focused on winning this. It’s peculiar to see such determination since Hongjoong usually acts so laid back.

But maybe it’s just a trick. Seonghwa doesn’t let the odd behavior distract him and goes with his plan. He descends beneath the barrier of overlapping branches into the forest proper. The sound of foliage rustling behind him tells him that Joong followed.

“You’re faster, but I’ve been practicing my turns!” Seonghwa shouts to the other over his shoulder. He weaves around trees deftly, turning tight corners with precision. The hideout is not a click away, motivating Seonghwa to fly even faster. 

“Not bad!” Hongjoong hollers from behind. How is he still behind? Is this a new strategy? It very well could be. Seonghwa keeps on his toes, maintaining focus as he takes the most efficient path to the base. Excitement fills Seonghwa to the brim, fueling the magic within to send him further faster. A massive smile crossing his face, Hwa zips between trees toward the lost boys’ hideout.

Just a little more, he tells himself.

Just a little more!

Seonghwa, ecstatic, flies so quickly he nearly overshoots the clearing. The black-haired boy comes to a screeching halt in-air. He scarcely avoids crashing into a tree. Catching himself with flailing limbs, Seonghwa scans the area quickly. Where is Hongjoong? Did he get there so fast that Hwa didn’t even see him? There’s no way he could possibly still be flying, right?

The black-haired boy’s jaw drops when he sees the redhead rush into the clearing seconds later. He can’t believe it. He got there before Hongjoong. He did it. He finally beat Hongjoong in a flying race. After all this time, he really, truly did it!

An ear to ear grin stretches across Seonghwa’s face, and he beams, “Ha! I finally did it! I beat you!”

“Y-Yeah, you did…” Hongjoong replies.

Hwa’s smile drops off immediately. Something isn’t right. He drifts closer to the other, and a sensation of discomfort begins to roil in his stomach. Hongjoong leans heavily against a tree, and his chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. There’s a sheen of sweat all over his unusually pale looking complexion.

“Joong?” Seonghwa floats closer, “Joong are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” The redhead’s response comes out hoarse. “Yeah, ‘m fine, just… I was goin’ easy on you, thas’ all.”

“Hongjoong…” Seonghwa frowns.

“Congrats on beating the champ fair ‘n square,” A loud cough jumps out of Hongjoong’s throat. It sounds painful and scratchy. “I think… I’m not usually big on naps, but… But today I m… I might…” The light in his eyes flickers on and off until finally shutting down completely. He wobbles a bit, then suddenly his body begins dropping toward the ground.

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa shouts worriedly. He rushes to grab the other, narrowly saving him from crashing into the ground. Chest aching with worry, Seonghwa shakes the half-conscious leader. “H-Hongjoong! Hongjoong are you okay?”

Dazedly, the redhead blinks his eyes open, “Hm? Hwa..? What- I’m fine.”

“Hongjoong, are you sick?”

“I’m just gonna need a… Take a nap.”

“Hongjoong!”

“Just a nap is all… Lay me down with some… Leaves for a pillow. That’ll be… That’ll be good…” Hongjoong trails off, and his head lulls to the side. 

Panic pushes Seonghwa to the verge of tears, but he holds everything together with all his might. His brain goes down a list of all the things he needs to do, should do. He tries to remember everything his mom has ever told him about colds and all the things she’s done for him. Hwa presses a palm gingerly on the other’s forehead and winces. Hongjoong’s burning up! Or, at least, Seonghwa thinks. He’s pretty sure the other feels warm. He’s pale for sure, and those coughs sounded like no joke.

Worried and anxious, Seonghwa does his best to carry the other over to the den.  All he wants is for Hongjoong to be okay. All of the thoughts about turning thirteen and races and the doom countdown slip from his mind. He just wants his best friend to be okay.

He needs it.

Some drama drones on in the background at low volume. The eerie cold, blue coming from the TV screen is the only light in the room. It’s far from candlelight, but it’s plenty romantic to Seonghwa. It highlights Hongjoong’s beautiful features all the same, catching the peaks of his profile and even the length of his long eyelashes.

Seonghwa isn’t sure when things escalated. He’d invited his boyfriend over for a casual study session. They were so productive for a few hours, but then Joong mentioned something about wanting a break. The couple cast aside their books and turned off the lights. They lasted about ten minutes into the episode of their shitty drama before Hongjoong coyly climbed into Seonghwa’s lap.

A heavy, heady haze fills Seonghwa’s head. He can barely think, and what little thoughts he can manage are all related to the boy on top of him. Hongjoong. Hongjoong, Hongjoong, Hongjoong. Beautiful, petite, stunning, savage, sassy, brilliant, smart, intellectual, artistic, creative Hongjoong. Hongjoong with his arms looped around Seonghwa’s neck. Hongjoong shuddering under Seonghwa’s touch. Hongjoong with the ragged breaths between feverish kisses. His Hongjoong.

Warmth swims into Seonghwa through his lips and pools in his stomach. It runs through his veins, all the way down to his toes. His arms rest lazily around Hongjoong’s waist, and his forehead on Joong’s forehead when their lips aren’t together. That isn’t often, though.

Hungry, Hongjoong goes in for another. He’s so damn eager, it fills Seonghwa to the brim with heat and adoration. What the redhead lacks in experience, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm, and it’s damn endearing. Seonghwa’s pretty sure he could make out with Hongjoong for hours and it’d be nothing but blissful.

Seonghwa’s body burns for Hongjoong. It itches under his skin, the want, the need. The keen desire to let his experience take the lead. He reigns it back though, allowing the other to explore for himself. In truth, a part of him wants Hongjoong to ask for what he wants. The thought turns him on more than it probably should.

Joong nips gently at Seonghwa’s lip, making the blond’s lips quirk up. Cute, Hwa thinks. That’s Hongjoong’s rather shy way of asking for more in a kiss - something Seonghwa learned fairly recently. Seonghwa takes the invitation graciously, swiping his tongue over the other’s lips. A sweet high surges through his veins at the taste of the other’s lips. One day, Seonghwa is going to sink his teeth into them. But not today. Today, he’s happy to be slow, lax even. He relishes in their gradual opening up to one another. It’s like watching a flower bloom. At first, it’s nothing but a bud, but over time, with care and love, it blossoms into something stunning. 

Hongjoong parts his lips, and a squeaky little groan leaves them when Seonghwa slips his tongue in. The grip on Seonghwa’s nape tightens, and Hwa holds the other closer. It’s like a dream to hold the other’s body flush against his. The more they spend time close like this, the harder it is to hold back the desire to devour the other. The want makes Seonghwa’s hair stand on end and sends his mind into a whirlwind of nonsensical wantonness. It’s almost like a trance. Hongjoong could ask him to do damn near anything and Seonghwa would do it. As long as it meant getting to hold him closer longer, getting to steal just a few more kisses and hear a few more breathy little sounds.

Seonghwa moves his hands to Hongjoong’s hips. He rubs circles with his thumbs soothingly as he deepens the kiss. Another soft noise escapes Hongjoong’s lips. The noise goes into Seonghwa’s ears and directly enters his boiling bloodstream. Hongjoong told him before that this is about as far as he’s gone - making out, kissing with tongue. As little as that means to someone more experienced, Seonghwa can see its profound effect on the redhead. When Hongjoong pulls off, his eyes are glazed over and his lips slightly ajar. His chest rises and falls rhythmically to catch his breath. Seonghwa can hear it, heavy and quivering. 

One of the tiny threads of restraint holding Seonghwa back snaps. It’s just a little one, but it’s enough to prompt him to push for just that slight bit more. Hongjoong’s said it before: he trusts Seonghwa, he’ll let Seonghwa lead, he’ll always speak up if something is too much. Hwa would never, ever want to hurt Hongjoong, so he feels confident taking the slight plunge into newer territory. 

Slowly, the blond leans in. He starts with a kiss on the cheek, chaste and soft. He plants another, then another gradually leading down to the jawline. Seonghwa presses barely-there kisses up the curve of Hongjoong’s jaw until he reaches his ear. He can feel Hongjoong’s hitched breaths down the side of his face. Inner fire fueled further, Seonghwa advances. He trails wet kisses down the other’s neck, stopping in a few spots to lightly suck and lap. No hickeys will result from it, for certain, but the suction, the slight graze of teeth, is just enough for a slight hint.  

Hongjoong tilts his head to make more room for Seonghwa. The blond has to stop himself from smiling against the other’s skin. God, he wonders, how can a person be so cute and sexy at the same time? Seonghwa goes further and further down Hongjoong’s neck, stopping to suck on a particular birthmark that he’s always thought was cute.  Shit, Seonghwa curses internally. He wants more, but he’s not willing to take more than this. At least not with the go-ahead. He vents some of that into the pressure of his hold, digging his fingers in ever so slightly more. Images of Hongjoong laid out beneath him, a wriggling mess, flash through his mind. He casts those thoughts aside, reminding himself that all good things come to those who wait. Even if that doesn’t come to him at all, he’s so, so happy to have the moments he has.

Seonghwa does his best to burn into memory the way Hongjoong quivers under his touch. Hwa experiments just to see what gets the prettiest little reactions. He tries grazing his teeth against the meat of Hongjoong’s shoulder and nipping at what bits of the collarbone he can reach. It’s when Seonghwa nips at an earlobe that he strikes gold. Hongjoong’s breath hitches, and his legs clench. A tortured, whiny noise pushes out of his throat. 

Hwa doesn’t let the other catch his breath. He brings his mouth to the other’s again, sucking in the redhead’s pretty lower lip between his. Hongjoong squirms, squeezing Seonghwa tighter. Whether by intention or not, his hips cant, and Hwa lets out a muffled groan.

Fire swells in Seonghwa’s stomach, running up his insides and searing his chest. After pressing another kiss on Joong’s lips, Hwa quickly returns to the redhead’s neck. He sucks on the spot where Hongjoong’s neck meets his jaw, just beneath his ear. 

“H-Hah,” Hongjoong gasps. His body lurches again. More, more, more - that’s all Seonghwa can think now. He just wants more, needs more. The other trembles beneath his touch and the vibrations run through Hwa’s skin. Seonghwa pulls Hongjoong flush to him and grinds his hips into the other’s.

“Mmn-” Another delicious sound from those gorgeous lips.

“H-Hwa,” Hongjoong whispers breathily.

“Mm,” Hwa hums against Hongjoong’s skin, “You like it, don’t you?”

“I- I do- h-hhah-”

“I can tell,” Seonghwa grins, sucking an earlobe between his teeth.

“Seonghwa-a-ah- I- I like it, but-”

“Hm?” Seonghwa practically feels like he’s under a trance, hypnotized. He can just barely acknowledge the other speaking, so focused on giving him pleasure.

“T-Too much,” Hongjoong breaths out shakily as his body tenses. “It- ‘s too much. ‘M sorry, I- I can’t-”

The fog of desirous haziness immediately dissipates. Seonghwa’s eyes go wide, and he immediately draws back.

“Oh my god,” The blond gasps. “I’m so sorry.” He loosens his hold on the other and leans away a bit to give him space.

“N-no,” Hongjoong shakes his head. His eyes are cast down, and he worries at his lower lip. “I’m sorry, I- You know what we could- we could try it again actually-”

“No,” Seonghwa shakes his head. “I don’t wanna do it if you’re not comfortable.”

“I- I’m sorry,” Hongjoong buries his face in Seonghwa’s shoulder. “I’m- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Stop apologizing,” Seonghwa says. His tone is soft, but he hopes it comes across as at least sort of firm. He’s serious about this. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“I just-” Hongjoong heaves a sigh. He sits up again and wrings a hand through his hair, “I wish I was more, I dunno, normal. I- I dunno-”

“I like you because you’re you,” Seonghwa informs him. “Not because you’re normal.”

“Yeah, but- but still- I mean- I- I don’t know when I’ll be ready and I mean, you’re cool now, but… Who knows how long you’ll have to wait.”

“Hongjoong-”

“C’mon, I can tell you’re frustrated. I mean, you’re-” Joong pointed looks down at his crotch. 

Seonghwa coughs sheepishly, “Well, you’re hot. And, yeah, okay I won’t lie to you it’s, like, it builds a bit of tension, but I don’t care. You’re worth waiting for. I’d rather wait years or until marriage than go further knowing you’re not into it.”

“Hold up- did you just say marriage?”

“Wh- I-” Seonghwa’s face flushes for a different reason this time. “I- You know what I meant, okay! It’s- it’s the common expression… Thing. Y’know. How people wait until marriage for some… Arbitrary religious reason. I- Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Awww,” Hongjoong’s flustered expression is nowhere to be found. He’s back to his own bubbly, teasing self, smirk and all. “You’re so into me.”

“Oh my god.”

“Are you looking at rings already?”

“Y’know, even joking about marriage usually freaks most people out. Why are you enjoying this so much?”

“Seonghwa and Hongjoong sitting in a tree-”

“Never are you ever-”

“-K-I-S-S-I-N-G-”

“-doing this right now,” Seonghwa groans.

Joong carelessly singsongs, “First comes love, then comes marriage , then comes- oof!”

“A pillow to the face,” Seonghwa snarks after tossing the closest one he could reach. 

“Ugh! You jerk! Stop throwing stuff at me and get to studying already,” Hongjoong laughs, dismounting.

Seonghwa internally laments the loss of warmth but laughs, “Excuse you. You’re the one who wanted to take a break in the first place.”

“We needed a break!”

“Mhm.”

“Oh fuck off and hand me my notebook,” Hongjoong grumbles cutely. “I think I threw it off the floor with everything else- save for the laptops, anyway.”

“You’re welcome ,” Seonghwa huffs, completely obliging in spite of his facetious tone. He has a tendency to do that - bitch nonstop about Hongjoong being a brat while simultaneously giving in every time. It’s sort of a bad habit and by no means an effective way to teach discipline. But, shit, Hongjoong is so cute. Seonghwa hardly cares.

Seonghwa dutifully hands Hongjoong his notebook, laptop, pencils, and probably some of his own dignity with them. He gathers his own things and piles them neatly on the bed. Just as he flicks the light switch back on, Hongjoong groans across the room.

“Goddammit, I left my calculator in my room,” The redhead gripes. “But I don’t wanna move…”

Seonghwa heaves a sigh, pacing over to his bed, “You want me to get it?”

Joong bites his lip eagerly, “Will you? I mean, you don’t have to, I can just-”

“I’m already up,” Seonghwa shrugs. Without another word or half-hearted protest, Hongjoong tosses the blond his keys with a wide grin. He thanks his boyfriend with a peck on the cheek before waving him off with a happy thank you. 

Hwa props the suite door open and quietly heads to Hongjoong’s room. He raps softly on the door, and after getting no response, walks in. The only sign of another life is the slightly tousled sheets on the bed opposite Joong’s. Apparently, that guy has something better to do with his night than stay in. Good on him, Hwa thinks. Seonghwa flips the light on and starts searching. 

He chuckles to himself, taking in the true, organic nature of Hongjoong’s living space. The redhead is artistic, and his space definitely reflects that in its cluttered, scatterbrained kind of way. Seonghwa starts padding around Hongjoong’s bedspread delicately, hoping not to disturb the state of the place too much. 

“No wonder you left your calculator,” Hwa mutters. “How do you find anything in here?” The floor is clear, he’ll give Joong that. However, any surface viable for carrying an object is covered in dozens. He’s got tons of books stacked up on his desk. There’s no way he needs all of those for his classes, Hwa thinks. Between the books, papers jut out, and supplies are scattered on top of his desk.

“It’s gotta be on the desk, right?” Seonghwa wonders aloud. He carefully scoots stuff to the side, hoping his delicate hand won’t disturb anything too much. Unfortunately, his effort is for naught. Upon lifting a book to check under it, Seonghwa somehow manages to knock another book off of the desk with his elbow.

“Oh- Fuck,” Hwa hisses to himself. He groans and picks the felled volume off of the floor. His eyebrows raise. “Sketch journal,” He reads out loud.

Uh-oh.

A sinful urge itches inside his head. He knows he needs to respect boundaries and respect Hongjoong’s things. The right thing to do would be to simply place the sketchbook back where it belongs, on top of the desk, and pretend that he never, ever touched it. So that’s what he’s going to do.

Unless…

Hongjoong had been so protective of it before. Why? Seonghwa ponders. What sort of naughty, forbidden artstuffs do the pages of the sketch journal hold? Seonghwa’s almost certain that it’s just, well, sketches. Hongjoong is probably embarrassed because he doesn’t think they’re good enough to be seen by others. They’re probably great, though. 

The blond casts a cursory glance around. He’s alone. Of course he’s alone - why wouldn’t he be? Even so, he can’t help the paranoia nagging him. It’s like he’s got an angel on one shoulder and a devil on another. The angel tells him to put the damn sketchbook down and be a decent human being. It reminds him that respecting boundaries isn’t exclusive to a person but extends to their things as well. The devil urges him to take just a teensy, weensy peek. After all, how much harm could a single look do? Hongjoong wouldn’t even know. Seonghwa would put the book back and return to the room with a calculator. End of story.

Seonghwa tosses the book around in his hands. It’s surprisingly hefty for its size - a standard printer sheet size. The cover is faded, the pages are yellowed, and there are all sorts of knicks and scratches bruising the surface. This sketchbook has been places and seen things. Things that Seonghwa has not. Things that Hongjoong thought so important he had to immortalize them in graphite on paper.

The devil wins out, and Seonghwa cracks the book open.

Hwa’s smug grin of satisfaction falls instantly. He expected a drawing, but what he’s looking at is… A newspaper clipping? Not one cut in a particular shape or artfully laid out. It’s just pasted there, a plain block. The article is about a decade old. In bold serif text, the tagline reads: “Missing Child Found In Sewer Pipe After Five Years: First responders call him a ‘miracle child’...”.

Seonghwa pouts. He’d expected more than just a random article. It sort of fits the bill, Hwa thinks. Hongjoong loves the strange and unfathomable. Miracles seem up his alley. Seonghwa turns to another page to see a map. It’s old-fashioned, a far departure from the urbanized web maps that Hwa’s used to seeing. It’s got curvilinear lines all over it and different tones to distinguish the peaks and valleys. There are a few unintelligible scribbles on it. Notes?

“Is this geomatics stuff?” Seonghwa asks nobody in particular. He flips to another page. About a dozen star maps are pasted across the two pages he navigates to. They appear to be the sky from different vantage points, and each bears scribbles and highlights. “Oh, pretty,” Hwa coos. He tries to analyze the cluster, but a scribbled note in red pen interrupts his thoughts. His heart stops beating for a second.

“The second star to the right,” Hwa mutters. His eyes dart across the page, checking each chart. Every star map has one thing in common: the second star to the right is circled, highlighted, or has an arrow pointing to it. A couple have all three, and a few don frantically scratched question marks.

The second star to the right.

That’s familiar.

That is familiar.

But why? How?

The sketch journal is disappointing, to say the least. It’s more of an unsettling, free-form sort of notebook than a sketchbook. Hwa rationalizes that it has something to do with geomatics, turning to another page. 

This one is perhaps the strangest yet. It appears to be notes about… A person? Maybe someone important in the geomatics field. A timeline of the woman’s life is laid out from birth to present. Oddly enough, none of her achievements are linked to geomatics at all. The information is basic and strangely personal. She gave birth to a son in this year, had a son by another man that many years later, worked here and there - never is geomatics, engineering, surveying or any of the sort mentioned. The careers listed are basic, low-wage jobs at chain stores or restaurants. Nothing fancy. Did she do geomatics in her spare time? There’s a picture of her, but it doesn’t really glean much. It looks like it was printed out from her facebook page.

Hwa skims the sketch journal a little more, and it’s more of the same. Vague, strange stuff, some of it completely unrelated to geomatics. Is this his personal journal? But that doesn’t make sense. A few words repeat themselves, stuff that makes no sense: the second star to the right, magic, “Maddox”, fairies, Neverland, Neverland, Neverland. What is he talking about? Why the fascination with stars, the enigmatically notated maps to random places, and all the news clippings? Even more unsettling is how manic the journal seems. Everything is scribbled and scrawled. There’s a sort of shakiness to the lines that tells Seonghwa that whoever had written in it was not in a clear state of mind. Maybe that’s the real reason this is so strange, Hwa tells himself. Maybe Hongjoong had just found this. Maybe he’s holding onto it.

Seonghwa shakes his head, “Just one more page.” He tells himself. Frowning, he flips a page too fast, and a loose picture nearly flies out. Seonghwa catches it and turns to the page it’d been on. His heart seizes, and he does a double-take, brows furrowed and gut-twisting with unease. He stares at the aged school photograph he’d saved, and it stares back.

He stares back.

Because it’s him, in the picture.

Him at about nine or ten years old.

Why does he have this?

Seonghwa briefly shakes the weird thoughts from his head. An ill sensation crawls up from his roiling guts, staining his heart and constricting his throat with nerves. No, he tells himself. This isn’t weird. Hongjoong probably suckered San or Yeosang into handing him over an elementary photo for blackmail. Sure, none of Hwa’s college friends have actually seen that picture (let held it in their hands) but that seems logical.

Hwa’s eyes dart to the page the picture had come from, and his blood freezes. He can read the text plain as day: “Park Seonghwa - now 21”. That’s his name on the page. And his age. Next to the words, scribbled in red pen, is a little heart. The angel on Seonghwa’s shoulder almost begs him to stop, but his traitorous eyes can’t cease. He’s started reading and he can’t stop, why can’t he stop? He wishes he could. He wishes he could just shut the book and pretend none of this had ever happened. But how can he when he’s staring at a concisely annotated timeline of his entire life up to this point?

“What the fuck?” Seonghwa reads out as tears prick his eyes. It starts from his birth - literally his birth. His birth date is written out time, location, hospital, star sign. The timeline’s next point is his preschool. His fucking preschool. After that it goes on to chronicle his elementary school along with general grade averages, extra-curriculars, close friends. Close friends?

“What- what the fuck?” Hwa runs a hand through his hair. Is this real? What is he looking at?

Why does Hongjoong have a notebook chronicling his entire life? There are details in on those pages that Seonghwa knows he hasn’t told the other. Things like his deepest fears, his most devastatingly embarrassing moments, the rough patch his parents had that almost led to them separating - all of it is there in plain black and white, dated and placed neatly in a line. There are notes regarding his various hair colors, his hobbies, when he came out. It’s all there. His entire life. 

“Wh- Why- Why did you- Wh-?” Seonghwa turns the page and there’s more. Another cluster of pictures fall out from between the pages. A couple more school photos and a fairly recent one printed out. “That was… Beginning of last semester.” Seonghwa chokes when he sees his selfie from just months prior looking up at him, cat filter and all. Reading the page, there’s more - why is there more? Dread and terror tug Seonghwa’s heart further and further down. 

The proceeding pages continue to explicitly detail his academic history, including, of course, his college. When he’d started being an RA. His dorm room. His class schedules for each semester. Seonghwa’s on the verge of throwing up as is, and when he starts reading notes about his mom, his brother, his entire family, that’s when the panic really sets in. Seonghwa furiously starts flipping pages, wondering what the hell else is in this thing.

All he gets is more creepy, enigmatic bullshit. Lots of pages are primarily blank space. They might have one or two phrases, then nothing. He takes in bits and pieces here and there: “lost boys” “likes splitting apples” “laughs” “dimples” “Neverland” “good flyer” “fairy?” “Maddox” “What is fairy dust?” “Neverland” “sewage pipe??” “magical energy” “Neverland”.

“Neverland”.

That place keeps coming up.

“Neverland”.

There it is again.

“Neverland”.

Seonghwa knows that place. He knows it from somewhere, but where?

“Neverland.”

A hazy, distant memory drifts into his head. Somewhere tropical and dreamy. Mermaids. Pirates. Waterfalls and flowers.

“Neverland.”

“Hey, babe-” Hongjoong’s voice carries into the room from the suite.

Seonghwa’s blood petrifies. With each step he hears come closer, his throat constricts, and his gut wrenches. He curses internally, searching his jumbled thoughts desperately for an answer, a solution, a rationalization. Any reason other than the most logical one - that this is Hongjoong’s doing. That Hongjoong isn’t a sweet guy who’s into him, but an insane stalker. Had he deliberately gone so far as to model himself after Seonghwa’s imaginary friend knowing the effect it would have? More crucially:

What’s he going to do when he finds out Seonghwa knows?

Hwa is too frozen with fear to move, and he tenses when the other walks in.

“-turns out I was sitting on my calculator the whole time!” Hongjoong giggles. No, Seonghwa tells himself, don’t fall for those wiles. “Sorry for making you get up, but, um, it’s super cute that you’d search through all that stuff for m-”

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asks, voice strained and shaky. He holds up the sketch journal with the page open to his entry. “What’s this?”

Hongjoong’s grin drops, and all of the joy visibly floods out of him. He swallows nervously and fidgets with his fingers. The redhead almost appears to choke as he attempts to find words. Seonghwa’s gut reaction is to feel bad, guilty, but he stuffs that down, reminding himself that Hongjoong is not the person he thought.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong replies in a low, nervous tone. “I can explain-”

“You wanna explain how you’ve been stalking me and my family, for what? Months? Did you- did you set your targets on me start of the semester or was it earlier, because this- this childhood stuff?”

“Did you read anything else?” Hongjoong asks, gaze fixed on the ground.

“Did I-” Hwa snaps his lips shut for a second just to stop himself from yelling. “That’s what you have to say for yourself? You won’t even deny it?”

Hongjoong’s mouth flaps open and closed, “I- I-” His eyes look wet with tears which is ridiculous to Seonghwa. As if he’s the victim. Disgust twists in Seonghwa’s guts, mixing with despair and anger. “Seonghwa,” Joong half-cries. “It’s real.”

“What?”

“Neverland is real ,” Hongjoong insists, eyes wet. Fuck. He’s insane. “ All of it is real- Seonghwa, you have to believe me.”

“I- I’m done,” Seonghwa throws the book down angrily and starts charging out. 

“Seonghwa it all happened!” Hongjoong grabs the other by the wrist. “Please, I- I admit to- to studying you, but- but that’s because I needed to find you-”

“Let go of me. Don’t touch me!” Seonghwa growls, snatching his wrist back.

“Oh come on, Hwa, I know you feel it, too. The magic. There are holes in your memory, aren’t there? And things you can’t explain. I bet you get weird dreams, too. And- and deja vu.”

“Get away from me,” Seonghwa responds coldly. He doesn’t even give a damn about the tears streaming down his cheeks.

Hongjoong grabs Seonghwa’s shoulder and forcefully turns him, “Seonghwa,” He looks the blond in the eyes, pleading, “Please, just entertain the thought that- that maybe, just maybe, there is- is more than meets the eye to the world. Think about it.”

Seonghwa shoves the other roughly. He ignores the twinge of guilt that knocks at his chest when the other’s small body stumbles back, nearly falling. Once again, he reminds himself: this is a stalker. A criminal. A nefarious person who just wants to possess and manipulate him.

“You’re lucky I don’t get a restraining order,” Seonghwa responds darkly. His nostrils flare and he squares up, standing tall to tower over the other - this time with full intent on intimidation. “Stay away from me.”

“Are you serious?” Hongjoong lets out a wry laugh. 

“You see me in the hall, walk in the opposite direction-”

“God- Why does it fucking pain you to even consider that there’s more to this than what’s on the surface?”

“-you do not speak to me, you don’t speak about me, and if I catch you talking to any of my friends, I’ll see to it personally that you get expelled.”

The redhead stands his ground defiantly in spite of the fact that he, too, is crying, “I’m gonna find it, Seonghwa. With or without you.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Neverland,” Hongjoong replies. “It’s real, and I’m gonna find it.”

Seonghwa shakes his head. It’s almost pitiful how far gone the other is. So much storms through his head that he can’t possibly fathom, process, or comprehend. To think just hours ago he’d been flying high on ecstasy, thinking about how grateful he was to have Hongjoong. Now the sight of the redhead makes him feel ill and bitter. No longer interested in hearing the other’s lunatic rambling, Seonghwa takes his leave.

“Get help, Hongjoong.”

Those are his last words to the redhead before he bolts out of the suite and into his bedroom.

He throws the redhead’s shit off of his bed. That can be taken care of later. Now, Seonghwa is too confused and angry and exhausted. He buries his face in his pillow and sobs himself to sleep.

Seonghwa dives for the forest clearing the second it comes into view. He sprints into the den, a sweaty, sticky mess. He doesn’t even care, though. His heart is beating at the speed of light, and his throat feels all tight and itchy. He clutches the drawstring he’d packed with medicine stuff in a vice as he steps into the hideout.

“H-How is he?” Hwa asks the lost boys, winded. He’s met with a collection of dismayed frowns and wet eyes.

“I… Am fine,” A hoarse voice from the end of the den responds. 

Seonghwa rushes over to the bed cove at the very end, “Hongjoong! You’re still in bed?”

“I’m fine. Just extra sleepy lately, that’s all,” The redhead replies. He’s swaddled in a blanket from his toes all the way up to his neck. Maddox sits on the pillow right by him, flashing him dirty looks.

Seonghwa huffs with annoyance and turns to the lost boys putzing around him, “You!” He points to the tallest, “Pick oranges if you see them, we’ll make juice. You!” He picks out the other tallest one, “Help him! You, fetch me cold spring water and you get some water over the fire for tea. You two, see if you can’t trade some of our jewel stash for some medicinal herbs from the tribe!”

The lost boys look, well, lost for a second. They blink confusedly at the eldest.

Hongjoong coughs out, “H-He’s the leader in my absence. Just do what he says, or he’ll hang you from the trees by your underwear.”

With that terrifying prospect as motivation, the lost boys run off to perform their duties. Seonghwa can’t help giggling a bit at that. Even though he’s the oldest, it’s Hongjoong that manages to terrify them in the way only a leader can. He sort of envies that trait, but he supposes with leadership comes a burden. Truthfully, Seonghwa is relieved he’s not the leader of the lost boys. It’s sort of nice to have Hongjoong to rely on. 

Hongjoong, on the other hand, is stubborn and doesn’t like relying on anyone. That makes him extra annoying when he’s sick.

“I can help with the tea,” Joong says, sitting up. “I’ve been in bed long enough, so-”

“No!” “Ring-ring!” Both Seonghwa and Maddox scold the leader at the same time. Seonghwa pushes Hongjoong down by the shoulders while Maddox twinkles angrily. Hwa doesn’t speak fairy, per se, but he’s got a feeling that Maddox is yelling a few curse words.

“Seonghwa, I’m not a baby. I’ll be fine,” Hongjoong frowns. “You don’t need to take care of me. Nobody does. I’ve been enough of a pain as it is.”

“With all due respect,” Seonghwa replies cooly, “Shut up.”

“Wh-What?!” Hongjoong’s eyes blow wide open with shock. “Did you just tell me to shut up?” He pouts. “That’s not very nice…”

“Stop playing the tough guy and let people help you already.”

“But I am a tough guy.”

“Yeah, well tough guys get sick, too, dummy,” Seonghwa leans forward and presses a hand on Hongjoong’s forehead. “See, you’re burning up.”

“I bet you’re making that up. How can you even tell?”

“I just can, okay? Now, I brought some medicines from home,” Hwa removes his drawstring bag and rifles through the stuff he’d brought. There’s some headache pills, cough syrup, cough drops, sleepytime tea, ginger candies and some sort of vitamin C supplement his mom would give him.

“Yuck! Medicine,” Hongjoong’s face squashes. “You don’t seriously think I’m gonna take medicine, do you? I’m gonna be fine.”

“You’re gonna have it and you’ll like it.”

“Ew. No I’m not.”

“Yes you will. Or else.”

“What? Or else what? Are you threatening me to… Help me?”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Ugh- Seonghwa!” Hongjoong whines.

True to his word, he heavily resists the medication. He turns his nose up and clamps his mouth shut when the spoon of cough syrup gets near his mouth. Seonghwa and Maddox have to actually hold Hongjoong’s mouth open to get it down his throat. That, apparently, is enough to exhaust the poor leader’s low energy reserves. He nods off while Seonghwa reads him a few stories.

Seonghwa sighs. The sight in front of him is pretty sad. It’s not nice to see Hongjoong, not himself, all tired and sick and sleepy. He hopes Hongjoong gets better soon. The thought consumes his mind for the entire day and the days following.

The dreary day outside reflects how Seonghwa feels in. It’s sort of a mess of half-rain, half-snow that results in nothing but an ugly, dirty, slushy gray mess everywhere the eye can see. He steps into his childhood bedroom tiredly, throwing his bookbag and sack of clothes in unceremoniously. He hasn’t been able to think straight ever since finding Hongjoong’s notebook. Every time he steps out, he’s scared he’ll run into the redhead. Even a hint of red hair sends Seonghwa reeling in the opposite direction. He thought he saw Nayeon in a dining hall a couple of days later and literally ran. As he sprinted away, deciding that dinner can wait, he even wondered: was she in on it? The morning after, Seonghwa gathered everything Hongjoong had left and simply set it down in front of the suite door. When he returned later that day, the things were gone. Seonghwa assumes they’d found their rightful place.

“Sweetie,” Seonghwa’s mom darkens his doorway. “Oh- Sweetie, why don’t you turn a light on? It’s so rainy outside.”

“Tired,” Seonghwa grunts.

“Sweetie… Is something the matter?”

“Tired,” Seonghwa says again.

“Well, just because you’re here all weekend doesn’t mean you have to wait to do your laundry,” His mom says in a chipper tone.

Even after returning the redhead’s stuff, Seonghwa still found himself thinking nonstop about Hongjoong. Seeing his egg chair made him remember how he sat Hongjoong down right there when he had gotten harassed. He thought about how Hongjoong would flop across his bed, groaning about his day. He thought about all the movie nights they’d had in that room and the little noises Hongjoong made when he got flustered. It quickly amounted to too much, and Seonghwa couldn’t take it anymore. He called his mom, making up a lie about all the laundry machines being down for the weekend. She predictably freaked out, got angry about where tuition dollars go and insisted he come home for the weekend. For the first time in a while, Seonghwa felt grateful for her doting overprotective streak.

“Kay,” Seonghwa grunts.

His mom sighs, “This early in the semester and you’re already this beat up?” She shakes her head, “What are they doing to you college kids these days?”

“Torture.”

“Okay. Well, try to be up from your nap by dinner time my tortured soul.”

“Kay.” 

She pads away, leaving the door open like she always does. Annoyed, Seonghwa jumps onto his feet and slams it closed. Feeling an immediate jolt of guilt and terror, he shouts an apology to his mom, saying it was a mistake. She doesn’t follow up the apology which bodes well for him. He flicks the lights off and throws himself onto the bed so he can resume his pity party.

It’s not something he does often or, really, at all, so he feels as if he’s earned this one. After all, how normal is it for someone to find out their beloved boyfriend is actually a crazy stalker? Who knows what other dirt Hongjoong has on him. The thought makes Seonghwa vibrate with anxiety. No, he realizes, that vibration isn’t his body. It’s his phone.

Seonghwa groans, wringing a hand down his face. It’s yet another notification from his friends. He’d kindly informed the groupchat that he and Hongjoong aren’t a thing anymore. Too mortified and shocked by what he’d seen, he didn’t elaborate. All he told them was that he can’t see Hongjoong anymore. It’s the truth - just a small part of it. Hwa scrolls his texts with a frown. They’re all pretty much the same:

Sannie☀️: seonghwa pls pls pls talk to someone :((

Mingi: hwa are you okay? If you wanna talk lemme know

🍎Jongho🍎: should i beat him up???

Yeosang: please dont just block us out. We love you. Please talk to us. 

woowoo: hey how are you feeling today?

Yunh🐶: just reminding you youre important and loved !!

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. They’ve all been left on read at this point. He loves them, he really does, but his friends are a lot. They’re very vibrant and so are their opinions. He can’t handle that right now. Just as he’s about to throw his phone across the room, another notification pops up.

Yeosang: hwa :( did something bad happen? Youre usually not like this

Annoyed, Seonghwa seethes as he taps out a dismissive response:

(You): no

(You): nothing happened

Yeosang: u know we all texted him too

Yeosang: hes our friend too

“Fuck,” Seonghwa hisses. What did that freak say? 

(You): what did he tell u?

He hopes that Yeo remembers they were friends first.

Yeosang sent an image.

Seonghwa heaves a sigh a relief. Screenshots. Hwa knew he could count on Yeo to come through. He opens the message, eager to see what manipulative bullshit the stalker spun. Hwa’s brows furrow. The screenshot reads:

(You): hey, hongjoong i hate to bring this up but um

(You): can you tell me what happened between you and hwa?

(You): he won’t say anything about it, but he seems devastated

(You): i know this is none of my business & i’m sorry if this is completely uncalled for

(You): but i’m worried and i just don’t get it

(You): hwa never told me about any problems…

Hongjoong (GAIF): I’m sorry, I can’t talk about this. Don’t contact me.

That’s it. Seonghwa frowns. He’d expected something more. He’s not sure what, but just more . His heart aches just seeing the name written out. It’s twisted just how deep Hongjoong sunk his claws in. Seonghwa can’t even tell the truth. Some fucked up part of him still feels inclined to protect the other. Part of him hopes he’ll wake up from a fever dream and everything will be alright. Or maybe he’ll get the psychological help he so clearly needs. Then Hongjoong will be his totally normal (well, not normal but) loveable boyfriend.

A sob seizes Seonghwa’s body at the thought. He buries his face in his pillow and rides out the painful, body wrenching sensation. There’s a pathetic little part of him that wants nothing more than to have his boyfriend back. A bit of remorse lingers in spite of the fact that he’d learned something very necessary. But what if he hadn’t? What if he’d minded his own business and just looked for the damn calculator? To think, he could be blissfully ignorant, cuddling with Hongjoong under a blanket or getting a cup of coffee. Sure, Hongjoong would probably snap at some point and, like, tie him up or something, but at least the now wouldn’t be so excruciating. 

A message lights up Hwa’s phone, reminding him he’d been talking to someone.

Yeosang: been on read ever since

Yeosang: you still there?

Yeosang: ????

(You): it’s between us

(You): i’ll talk about it

(You): just cant right now

Yeosang: :///

Yeosang: fine

“Thank god,” Seonghwa murmurs to himself. He sighs and shuts his eyes, cozying up in the comforting familiarity of his old blankets and plushies. His phone buzzes again - this time a rhythmic, ceaseless kind of buzz. A call. Hwa sniffles and wipes his nose as he answers, ready to chew Yeosang out.

“I told you, I’m not talking about it, Yeo.”

“Seonghwa,” The voice on the other line is not Yeosang’s.

Seonghwa’s blood chills and he sits up, snarling, “I thought I told you to delete this number.”

Hongjoong replies, “Seonghwa, please, just hear me out. If you would let me explain-”

“The notebook laying out my life from birth to now was pretty self-explanatory,” Hwa cuts the other off coldly. 

“Seonghwa… I am putting aside my pride to beg you-”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Seonghwa, I… I’m not gonna give up on you.”

Fuck, why did he have to go and say that? Seonghwa laments. Even worse is the fact that those words have such an insane effect on him. 

“You’re- you’re insane,” Hwa pushes the words out through the thick cries wanting to crawl out from his lungs.

“I promise-”

“You promised you’d leave me alone.”

“-I’m not giving up on you, Seonghwa-”

“Delete this number.”

“-not this time.”

“Fuck you!” Seonghwa shouts, tapping the red icon on the screen furiously until the call goes dead. It’s too late, though. He’s already crying again. Over a stalker. He feels ashamed. His head and heart are in complete misalignment. One is trying desperately to exert dominance and shove Hongjoong out of sight, out of mind. The other part yearns for the stalker in spite of logic.

Hwa pleads with his achey body to just pass out already. He tosses and turns in his bed, hugging his dragon plushies close, but nothing really does it. Irritated, Seonghwa sits up and takes inventory of the soft stuff atop his bed. There are a few black dragon plushies, a couple of pillows, and a duvet - a lot of soft comforts, but something seems to be missing. Seonghwa purses his lips with displeasure when he realizes his old favorite blanket isn’t there. 

It’s the ultimate comfort item. He remembers wrestling for days before his first semester of university with whether or not to bring it. Ultimately, he thought it best to leave that artifact of childhood behind. While he’s miraculously managed to go on without it, he never allowed his mom to get rid of it (which is fine, because she’s sort of a nostalgic hoarder anyway). 

“It’s gotta be in the closet,” Hwa sighs, resignedly flicking on the light switch. He throws open his closet doors and starts searching. “Where are y- fuck!” A sharp pain stabs his toe. “Fuck- fuck- fuck- fuck!” Seonghwa reels. There are so many intense pains a person can feel, yet none quite compare to unexpectedly stubbing one’s toe. Hwa’s face squashes with pain as a litany of curse words spill from his mouth.

He leers down at his feet, wondering who the culprit is. His brows raise curiously when he sees a pile of books. Why is there a heap of books at his feet? Suddenly, the memory of Christmas crops up in his head. He’d dropped an entire bin of books onto his floor and never bothered actually picking them up. Instead, he’d swept them into the closet, swearing up and down he’d take care of them before moving back to the dorms.

Seonghwa huffs annoyedly. This is a bad week, he tells himself. The entire week is just cursed. He kicks the books aside annoyedly, searching the linens on the shelf above for his beloved blanket. Yet again, a little impulse bubbles up in his head. It prompts him to glance at his feet again and see precisely what book he’d bumped his toe on. It reads in sloppy letters:

“ADVENTURE JOURNAL”.

His heart drops.

Thoughts of Hongjoong flood into his head. His rambling, his frantic notes, his red hair.

His red hair.

Something possesses Seonghwa to bend over and pick the thing up. As if he’s in a trance, Seonghwa slowly turns the pages, searching for the one he’d seen before. His heart hammers loudly in his ears, and he bites his lip in nervous anticipation with each page turn closer.

“No!” Seonghwa shakes himself out of it. He throws the journal across the room snappily. Wringing a hand through his hair, he chides himself, “What the fuck are you doing?” Turning to that page is just asking for pain, and he’s had enough agony to last him through the semester. Maybe through college. Letting out a heavy breath, Seonghwa gives up on his mission to find his blanket and stumbles back toward his bed. 

“Wh- Shit!” Hwa curses again when he slips on the book he’d just thrown. Figures. Just another stroke of shitty luck to add to his incredibly cursed day, week, month even. Seonghwa glares down at the thing as if it’ll apologize, but his scowl drops off immediately. 

When he threw it, somehow, the book opened to that page.

It’s as if the universe itself is taunting him. The firetruck red hair, the little yellow sparkles dotting the page, the black outlines and big pink smile. It’s him. Fuck. It’s him. Another round of tears pool in Seonghwa’s eyes as he tiredly bends over to pick the damn thing up. All the dread and regret has effectively exhausted him, and it’s painful to find himself brought to tears again because of Kim Hongjoong. He’s sick of it. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, Seonghwa can’t stop himself from staring at the page.

Graphite and blue lines warp and distort beneath the teardrops coming from above. Seonghwa gazes at the drawing like it’ll give him an answer. All he gets is the lifeless smile of a paper boy.

“Fuck you,” Seonghwa talks to the page as if it’s Hongjoong himself. He rips it out roughly and throws the book down. “I’m- I’m done with you-” He’s fairly certain that when he looks back on this, he’ll cringe from just how dramatic he’s being. But a part of him theorizes he needs this. Tearing up the symbol, the representation of the redhead is a start. It symbolizes a farewell. A good fucking riddance to the insane stalker bastard who’d followed him all the way to university for some reason Hwa doesn’t want to know.

Seonghwa poises his fingers to tear the page. He starts with a little rip just at the top. It doesn’t make him feel as good as he thought it would. He wonders if maybe it’ll feel better when the entire thing is done. He considers tearing it slow, watching that paper boy slowly come apart, but ultimately it seems better to just do it at once - like ripping off a band-aid.

Taking a deep breath, Seonghwa bites down on his lips and starts tearing. He tears, tears, tears until the rip just through the middle just grazes the top of the drawing’s red head. Hwa gives the drawing one last look, as if to say the last goodbye. He bids farewell to that bright red hair and those rosy pink lips, to the sparkling fairy dust and the little birthmark on his neck.

Seonghwa stops.

 He blinks confusedly, holding the page right up to his face.

The little birthmark on his neck.

The little birthmark on his neck.

“No,” Seonghwa mutters to himself. “ No .”

He does not remember ever, ever meeting Kim Hongjoong in his lifetime. His mom only knows Hongjoong the imaginary friend and Hongjoong the college friend. Not once did she mention a real boy named Hongjoong. Hwa knows the redhead well enough to know that the two didn’t grow up near one another. Their schools are in different towns, and Seonghwa can’t for the life of him recall seeing any kid with red hair in any of his clubs or sports.

Hwa almost trips over his feet as he lunges toward his bed. He digs his phone out from the pile of plush and pillow, frenziedly unlocking it. After making too many fidgety attempts at the lock code, he finally gets in and pounds the icon for his photo gallery. In his throes of despair, he’d yet to be able to stomach the task of deleting all Hongjoong things off of his phone. Scrolling furiously, Seonghwa taps the first photo of the redhead he can find.

“No,” Hwa murmurs to himself. The redhead’s wearing a turtleneck. He searches for another. The first thing he finds is a video. Uncaring, he taps play. It’s from the previous semester. The memory pains him to relive, but he watches determinedly.

Hongjoong sits still, focused intently on his laptop. The two of them were just studying in a dorm common area, Hwa remembers that. The redhead wearing a tank top and sweats along with some clear frame glasses. Seonghwa recalls texting Yeosang paragraphs about the simple look. Hwa dashes the tangent from his head and watches the video closely.

“Wh- Are you filming me?” Hongjoong’s voice sounds slightly staticky through the filter of Hwa’s phone. That alone still makes Hwa’s guts turn. He ignores it. 

Seonghwa, from behind the camera laughs, “Maybe.”

“What- Stop it!”

“Why?” Seonghwa zooms in.

“Oh my god- do not zoom in on me!” Hongjoong moves to cover his face.

“You look beautiful today.”

“Fuck off!” Hongjoong whines. Shit, it’s cute. 

“I’m just capturing your natural essence.”

“Literally why?” Hongjoong leaps forward, and Seonghwa pauses.

His heart stops.

He tosses the phone onto his desk and sets the drawing down next to it.

They match up.

The birthmarks match up.

They match up perfectly; they’re both right there on the right side of his neck (left if someone’s facing him forward). The perfect little dark dot, the one spot on his otherwise flawless skin. But it doesn’t make sense. Seonghwa hunches over his desk, gnawing on his lower lip as he thinks about it. He’d been functioning over the assumption that Hongjoong had somehow modeled himself after Seonghwa’s beloved imaginary friend.

But how would he even do that?

In all the notes Seonghwa saw, not one mentioned an imaginary friend (or Hongjoong at all). How would Hongjoong have seen the drawing? Would he have been clever enough to replicate a birthmark?

The thing is, even if he did try to replicate it, Seonghwa would be able to tell. He’s been in close contact with that skin. He stared at it and fantasized about it more than he really should have. He even grazed his teeth along it and pressed kisses on that exact birthmark. There’s no way it’s fake. Tattoo ink doesn’t look like that, and it sure as hell isn’t makeup or henna.

What are the odds that Hongjoong has the exact same birthmark that his imaginary friend did?

And where did this imaginary friend come from, anyway? Why can’t Seonghwa remember him?

Impulsively, Seonghwa rushes out of his room and downstairs. He finds his mom into the kitchen and unceremoniously drops an interrogation on her.

“Hey, mom?” He starts, tapping his toe nervously.

“Yes, dear?” She doesn’t bother looking up from her work on the stove. Smells like jjajangmyeon - yum.

“Hey, did I- did I have a friend named Hongjoong in elementary school? Like, um, maybe ages nine, ten, eleven… Twelve, even?”

She chuckles and shakes her head, “No, dear. He was an imaginary friend, remember?”

“But- but there was never a… A real boy with that name, right?”

“Not that I know of. Not in your school or any of your clubs,” She shakes her head. “I thought we went over this. What’s got you so curious? Is this about your friend Hongjoong back at college?”

“U-Uh, yeah. Sort of,” Seonghwa’s voice strains in his attempts to sound cool and not bordering hysterical. “He, um, it’s funny, he says he remembers me from- from childhood. Like he knew me.”

“Sounds like he’s pulling your leg,” His mom tuts bluntly.

“You think that I, um, maybe I met him at the park or something?” Seonghwa asks.

“Sweetie, you never went to the park,” His mom laughs. “You know that.” He does know that, but he was hoping that maybe his memory wasn’t right.

His mom elaborates, “No, during those years you always kept to yourself. You played a lot of video games in your room. Shut yourself up in there for hours… Sometimes you’d go out to the backyard, but you never really went out to play. Not that I let you- it’s not safe out there for a boy to just be running around without parental supervision! Wait- You don’t resent me for that, do you?” She asks half-jokingly. Seonghwa knows that she actually means it, though.

“No,” Hwa shakes his head. He sighs, pacing over to his mother’s side to hug her from behind. He presses a kiss on her head and smiles, “I think you did a great job with me.”

“Oh, good. Last semester you were so hard to get a hold of, I was afraid you’d decided to abandon me!”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “I’m sorry,” He apologizes sheepishly. “I’m gonna go up and nap a bit more.”

“Alright, hon. I’ll call you down when it’s finished.”

Hwa gives his mom another kiss before running back upstairs to his room. He strides over to his desk again and wakes his phone up. For a while, he just stares down at the comparison of the two side by side. It can’t be, but… What if it is?

Hongjoong’s words ring through his head: “ just entertain the thought that- that maybe, just maybe, there is more than meets the eye to the world”. 

Is he really going to follow the words of a stalker?

Conflict toils in Seonghwa’s chest. His heart writhes in pain, and the logical part of him wonders if entertaining this line of thought is just a coping mechanism. Is he really going to entertain some delusional train of thought to justify wanting Hongjoong back? But there’s another part of him, too that is completely and utterly baffled by the facts in front of him. Ignoring what had transpired between them, ignoring the entirety of their friendship and relationship, there are things here that do not make sense. Period.

Seonghwa throws himself into his desk chair and taps his foot. He thinks about it. He thinks and thinks and thinks. The blond tries to remove himself from the situation and look at what he’s found out.

Hongjoong knows things about him. All the little remarks he’s made surface in Hwa’s mind. Hongjoong once said he likes Hwa’s hair better black - but Seonghwa’s been blond ever since they met. Back then Hwa wrote it off as social media stalking, but what if he knew from experience? And his parkour hobby, what is that about? The time Hongjoong jumped off a building but emerged from behind a dumpster completely fine. Was Seonghwa going crazy, or did that really happen?

And now the birthmarks. The perfectly matching birthmarks. 

Seonghwa grabs the journal off the floor and flips through it again. Last time he’d skimmed it, he never went past the Hongjoong entry. Now, he makes sure to go straight to the latter half of the journal, scanning furiously. Words jump out - familiar words: “lost boys”, “Neverland” - fuck, Neverland - “fairy dust”, “magic”, “Hongjoong”.

“Hongjoong”.

“Hongjoong”.

Hwa slams the journal shut. This is his journal from a decade ago, from a time long before he knew Kim Hongjoong, the redhead across the hall. Yet the content isn’t just eerily similar to that of Hongjoong’s notes. Some of it is almost exactly the same. Obviously, Hongjoong’s notations are different, but the crossover is undeniable. How?

How ?

Seonghwa hasn’t even touched the journal in ten years. There’s no way it’s left that bin since. His childhood home hasn’t been broken into nor have his parents hosted any strange guests that would rifle through his belongings.

Nothing is adding up, and Seonghwa doesn’t know what to think anymore. Nerves an utter mess, he puts his phone to sleep and closes his journal. His brain is overfull. It had already been heavily weighed down with the breakup, with the discovery of Hongjoong’s sketch journal. Now, adding confusion, bafflement, self-doubt and complete loss on top of it is too much to handle.

The jumbled puzzle pieces gnaw at the back of Seonghwa’s head for the rest of the night.

A loud, ugly cough echoes through the hideout. Hongjoong curls up tighter in his blankets. Since the previous day, Hongjoong has only gotten worse. He’s only conscious for minutes at a time. When he is up, he can hardly speak. Most of his waking time is spent coughing. He doesn’t even insist that he’s fine now. When asked how he’s doing, all he does is let out a weak sort of hum.

Seonghwa is terrified. He takes on the role of the tough leader, trying to appear as chilled as possible, but on the inside, he wants to cry. Nothing is working. No amount of blankets or cool rags, no herbal tea or cold medicine. Nothing. Every day, Hongjoong looks paler and weaker. When the other boys are gone - off to try and find new medicines or fetch more water - that’s when Seonghwa allows himself to cry.

The black-haired boy sniffles softly. He’s barely left Joong’s side since discovering him in bed. Hongjoong stirs, and a weak groan leaves his lips. His eyes slowly blink open. They don’t look right. They’re hazy like there’s fog in Joong’s eyes.

“Hey,” Seonghwa tries to sound simultaneously cool and soothing. “How you feeling sleepyhead?”

“Tired,” Hongjoong whispers hoarsely. “Gonna go back to bed.”

“O-Okay. Yeah just, go ahead and get some sleep,” Seonghwa pats the other’s red hair. It’s extra tousled from the pillows. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Mmkay. Thanks…” The redhead nods off again.

It shatters Seonghwa’s heart into a thousand tiny pieces. He sniffs loudly and throws himself over the other, squeezing him tight. He knows it’s ill-advised. He could get sick, too or even hurt Hongjoong. But he doesn’t know what else to do. 

Maddox mopily drapes his tiny body over Hongjoong’s shoulder. Seonghwa has gotten a little better at understanding him. He doesn’t understand Maddox the way Joong does, but he can sort of get the gist of things. Seonghwa frowns.

“Maddox, what are we gonna do?” Seonghwa asks sadly. The glowing fae strokes his chin with a thumb. His brows furrow and he pops into the air, floating around in thought. “Are you sure the fairies don’t have any magic potions or things that’ll work?”

Maddox heaves a sigh and nods. Fairies are enchanted creatures with a wide variety of powers. But none of them are miraculous healers, apparently. Maddox levitates idly as if he’s pacing the room in thought. It does little to comfort Seonghwa, who can’t take his eyes off of the sleeping redhead.

Hwa leans forward to check the other’s face. He’s almost the color of paper - even his lips which always look like he’d been biting on them. Hongjoong looks impossibly small underneath the heap of blankets. He almost disappears into all the thick cloth. Seonghwa fears that he will at the rate he’s going. They can barely rouse him enough to drink, let alone have him eat. If the fever doesn’t take him, malnourishment might. That line of thought almost makes Seonghwa cry, but he holds it in. He reminds himself he has to be strong - for Hongjoong and the lost boys.

Repeated ringing noises fill the little cove, causing Hwa to jolt from the shock. He looks around, but the culprit turns out to be right in front of his face. It’s Maddox. The fairy is saying something, but Seonghwa can’t exactly understand what.

“What- What is it, Maddox? Have you thought of something?” The boy asks hopefully.

The fairy nods enthusiastically. He zips over to Hongjoong and points to the sleeping redhead.

“Right, so, Hongjoong…” Seonghwa checks with the other to make sure he’s doing okay so far. Maddox nods.

Then, he points to himself. He makes a big swooping motion with his arm, and fairy dust spills out from his sparkling aura. 

“Uh… Is that a… A firework?” Seonghwa asks. Frustrated, Maddox’s optimistic expression falls, and he furrows his brows. He repeats the motion, pointing to Hongjoong. “Okay, so, Hongjoong… And you… You’re going to- Oh, no, not you?”

Hwa watches confusedly as the fairy attempts to illustrate his point. He glows extra bright, as bright as he possibly can, filling the room, and fairy dust gets everywhere.

“Don’t tell me you want Hongjoong to fly!” Seonghwa gasps, horrified. Maddox is officially grumpy at this point, and he huffs an audible groan. Pouting, the fairy crosses his arms and furrows his brows in thought. 

“I-I’m sorry, Maddox,” Hwa apologizes tearfully. Hongjoong may never wake up at this rate. The thought rudely imposes itself on the boy, and it ruins him on the inside. His stomach twists and aches from with despair just imagining the possibility of it. “I’m sorry, I wish I could do more,” Hwa apologizes again. He feels guilty, wondering if maybe he’d given Joong medicine sooner or dragged him to a doctor if things would be different. “If I could just wave a magic wand and make it better, I would.”

Maddox rings incessantly at that, pulling Hwa out of his sadness. Seonghwa sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Wait… What… What is it?” Seonghwa asks. “Don’t tell me… Is there a magic wand somewhere in Neverland we can use.”

The fairy insistently shakes his head. He holds up a finger immediately after to halt Hwa from saying anything before he finishes his thoughts. Maddox bites down on his lip and thinks a little more. After a second, the little fairy snaps, and he zips through the air above Hongjoong quickly. At first, Seonghwa is confused, but then he realizes that Maddox wasn’t just flying aimlessly.

He was writing something.

The trail of fairy dust left by the twinkling fae spells something out:

“Magic spell”.

“A- A magic spell?” Seonghwa tilts his head confusedly. “But, I don’t know any magic spells. Do you?” Maddox’s shoulders slump, and he shakes his head. Hwa’s face scrunches as he thinks about the idea. “I guess we’ve tried all sorts of other stuff already. Medicine, herbs, sleep… But we haven’t tried magic.”

Maddox nods, clasping his hands together hopefully.

“B-But, how am I supposed to know how to use magic? Or- or where to find something like a wand. What do I even need to use to cast a spell? What if it requires sacrifices.” 

Maddox shrugs, and Seonghwa sighs dejectedly.

“It’s not a bad idea, Maddox, but I don’t think any of us can do it. We don’t know the first thing about healing spells- or any magic spells for that matter,” Hwa mopes. The fairy shakes his head fervently. He zips over to the stack of books sitting on the edge of the bed. His face strains with effort as he lugs one over to Seonghwa.

“Hm? Is this a magic book?” The boy’s brows raise inquisitively. He relieves the fae of the hefty book and reads the cover. “Oh,” His heart falls. “Maddox, this is great and all, but I’m not sure how The Sleeping Beauty is gonna help us.”

Frustrated, the fairy flips the cover open in Seonghwa’s hands. He turns a few pages and points insistently at one of the passages.

“Maddox, now really isn’t the time for a sto- what’re you doing?” Maddox yanks roughly on Seonghwa’s hair, directing his line of sight to the open page. The tiny glowing man zooms over to the book again, using his entire body to gesture to the page.

Seonghwa pouts, “Ugh, fine. Okay, um it starts… Here we go,” He reads: “-the young prince falls onto his knees, stunned by the princess’s beauty.  Though she is peacefully asleep, he knows from her aura that she is a kind, fair woman. His majesty knows in his heart that she is to be his queen. And so, utterly enchanted, he bends down to…” Seonghwa pauses. “To give her a kiss. When their lips touch, the magic of true love’s kiss lifts the curse. The princess wakes up, her eyes bright and happy…”

Maddox flits between paragraphs, emphatically pointing to the words “magic” and “wake up”. Seonghwa eyes the page again, then glances over to the pile on the edge of the bed.

“Maddox, I think… I think I’m gonna do some reading,” Seonghwa says. The fairy claps happily and twirls in the air. He’s so excited at the prospect of a solution that he even smooches Hwa on the cheek before tinkling off. With the departure of the fairy, the den gets quiet again.

Seonghwa gets cracking on the books. He rules out stuff like Hansel and Gretel or Treasure Island. Things like that don’t revolve around curses or afflictions to the person. When he gets his pile of do-reads together, Seonghwa starts at the top with The Princess and the Frog. At first, he’s quiet, but feeling lonely, he starts reading aloud. Maybe Hongjoong can hear him. If the redhead does hear anything, he doesn’t give any indication.

The stories are all sort of the same. The main character falls into some kind of trouble. They might have a little fight in them, but they all succumb to some sort of curse or another. The common thread linking all of these is the resolution. All of the problems end with a kiss. The Princess and the Frog, Beauty and the Beast, The Sleeping Beauty and Snow White - their path to a happy ending always ends up being forged with true love’s kiss.

Nervousness jumbles up Seonghwa’s insides. He gazes at Hongjoong’s lips and wonders: will true love’s kiss really save him?

Even if it is the answer, what can Seonghwa do about it? Hwa’s fingers graze his lips as he tries to think of a solution.

“Hello?” Seonghwa greets the person on the other end of the line brightly. 

“Yes, how can I help you today?” The secretary asks.

“Hello Miss Lee, this is Choi Mingi- we spoke earlier this morning?” Hwa nods to the cab driver as he steps out, giving a wave in thanks. 

“Oh, yes, Mr. Choi, are you nearby?”

“I am,” Seonghwa answers. He hoists his messenger bag onto his shoulder more snugly as he ascends the steps into the school building. Even though Seonghwa walks around a college campus day in and day out, standing in front of a high school exerts a sort of indescribable pressure even after all his years out. There’s an unspoken imposition that a high school building has. Even if one has absolutely no link or allegiance to said high school, something about being in the vicinity of one feels oppressive. It’s like it sends a person back to that time, reverting them back to the unsure kid they once were.

Hwa sighs heavily, and his breath fogs up in front of him. It’s a crappier day than the one before. The slush has frozen over, converting the sidewalks into a horrific ice rink of gunk. Gray clouds float low in the sky, assuring that only the slightest, saddest trickle of sunlight manages to escape the suffocating barrier.

“Can you just remind me of the guest procedure?” Hwa asks nervously.

“Of course,” The secretary chuckles. “Step inside and take the stairs to the right. When you’re up the stairs, take a left and follow signs for the main office. We’ll sign you in and get you a guest pass.”

“Thank you,” Seonghwa answers. “I’ll be up shortly.”

“We look forward to meeting you, Mr. Choi. It’s not often that university organizations take such an interest in our alumni.”

“Yes, well, Hongjoong is a very special case. Speak to you soon,” Seonghwa replies. 

“Right. Buh-bye,” The secretary replies. 

“Mr. Choi” - Seonghwa gets a kick out of that. His trek a couple of hours away started in the morning. Unable to shake the previous night’s discoveries, Seonghwa took it upon himself to investigate. He started the way any person would: a google search. Much like before, all he found was frustration. His pinterest yields nothing more than further frustration. It’s nothing but repeating motifs of nature, glitter, and far away places.

The one thing Seonghwa did remember was Hongjoong’s high school. Thinking more about their conversations, Hwa realized: Hongjoong barely talked about his past. His high school is the one concrete link Seonghwa has to the enigma that is Kim Hongjoong. After a quick search, Hwa found their number and called them up. He posed as Choi Mingi (all the while apologizing to his friends silently) and told the secretary that he represented a fraternity and Kim Hongjoong wanted to pledge. Whipping up a tall tale about their selective fraternity Alpha Tau Zeta, he politely asked for any information and records he could on Kim Hongjoong. The secretary on the phone kindly informed him that they couldn’t release records nor would they fax or email any extracurricular, public information. Seonghwa half expected it and, resigned, asked if he could personally inspect public records such as yearbooks and newsletters. Seonghwa impulsively threw some clothes in the washer and put together his most pretentious, old-money outfit he could compose.

And so, “Choi Mingi” finds himself walking toward the office of a completely unfamiliar school an hour’s train ride away.  Seonghwa’s heart remains perpetually lodged in his throat as he walks through the unfamiliar space. There’s nothing remarkable about the high school, really. There are bulletin boards plastered on the walls between lockers. Popouts boast the “student of the month” and advertise upcoming sporting events. The entire building smells faintly of cleaning chemicals and dust. Nowhere is there any indication that a crazed stalker could’ve come from the place. 

A few kids bearing hall passes side-eye the college student as he walks by. Hwa gets the vibe that the strange blond guy is gonna be a lunch conversation topic today. That's something he remembers very well about high school: how even the slightest alteration of the convention warranted attention. He wonders how Hongjoong fared in a place like this. Not that “this” is anywhere special. That’s the thing. Malicious or not, Hongjoong is definitely special. He could easily have been a target for bullying.

Seonghwa mentally moves on. Now is not the time to picture pitiful high school scenarios for his crazy ex. He steels himself with a deep breath upon reaching the office. 

“Welcome in. Mr. Choi,” The secretary asks from her perch behind the desk.

“Hello. Thank you for having me on such short notice,” Seonghwa replies politely.

“Oh, it’s not trouble at all,” She waves dismissively. “Come here and sign in.” 

Seonghwa does as asked, filling in the phony name and the time of arrival.

“Now, it’s been a while since I was in college, but I thought fraternities only accepted new members during the fall semester,” The secretary says amicably. 

“One of our members transferred, so we had a free slot,” Seonghwa plays it off cooly. “As I explained on the phone, we are quite selective.”

“I can tell,” The older woman grins graciously upon receiving the sign-in sheet. She grabs a little lanyard from a nearby desk and starts writing the copied name on the plastic with a dry-erase marker. 

“Have you worked here long?” Seonghwa asks, hoping to sound casual and conversational. “Did you ever know Kim Hongjoong?”

The secretary hands over the guest pass and nods, “A lot of students come through here, but he was always a special one.”

“Why so, if I may ask?” Now Hwa’s intrigued. He latches onto every word that comes out of the woman’s mouth as she replies.

“He was a good student, but what really set him apart was his spirit,” She elaborates. “You see when he was here…” She trails off into some story about Hongjoong. Hwa sort of hears it, but his attention gets drawn to a door to the back of the main office. The frosted glass on the door reads: “ARCHIVES”. So that’s where they keep physical files, Hwa thinks.

“His… Spirit?” Seonghwa responds so the other doesn’t catch onto him zoning out.

“Well, I’m sure you know all about that with the interviews,” She chuckles. “As for high school activities, all of our yearbooks are archived in the library downstairs.”

“R-Right, yes,” Seonghwa nods. He flashes her a phony grin and grabs the pass, annoyed. It’s probably better that she didn’t press for much conversation. He can only keep up the ruse for so long. 

Seonghwa follows the directions to reach the library - down the stairs and take two lefts. The smell of old books hits him like a brick when he enters the very brown library. It’s surprisingly dim for a library, making Seonghwa wonder how anyone can actually manage to read in the place. A few other students give him weird looks, and the librarian openly body checks him from behind her reading glasses. That’s about when it occurs to Seonghwa precisely how insane the stunt he’s pulling is. Holy shit. 

He’s posing as some frat bro so he can break into Hongjoong’s high school and dig up dirt on him. What the fuck?

Seonghwa reminds himself that, yes, he’s sort of looking into Hongjoong excessively, but Hongjoong did it first! It is far too late to turn back now, anyway. Hwa commits to going through with it. He aloofly paces over to the librarian and asks where the yearbooks are. She points him to a far corner of the library, and Hwa thanks her politely on behalf of Alpha Tau Zeta.

Even though Hongjoong is probably nowhere near his alma mater, Seonghwa can’t shake the twinge of paranoia itching in his skin. He scans the rows of yearbooks and pulls the years that seem appropriate. Hongjoong is a year behind Hwa in school, so it’s only logical to conclude that his high school years will align with that.

“Okay,” Seonghwa whispers to himself. “Freshmen year. Let’s see what you’ve got for freshmen year…”

Luckily, Hwa’s deductive reasoning got him to the right year. He quickly flips through the page of first-year pictures.

“Damn,” Hwa laughs airly. “That is… A look.” Hongjoong is almost unrecognizable with black, cropped hair. Seonghwa is so used to seeing the other with red hair, that it’s the black that comes off as unnatural. Hwa squints at the old yearbook photo, bringing it closer to his face. They say that a person’s eyes can tell all. Oftentimes even old serial killers and criminals show that something is off. However, all Seonghwa can gather from Hongjoong’s picture is that he’s sort of depressed. Who isn’t during school? The kid’s smile is tight-lipped and obviously forced, completely devoid of any joy. Hwa frowns and moves on.

“Clubs, clubs, clubs…” He mutters to himself flipping to the back of the book. “Aha- choir? Hm. A tenor.” Hwa raises his brows at the image on the choir page. Rows of kids in robes stand on risers. Hongjoong’s so small and his hair is so dark that he blends in with the dark robes they’re all wearing. The image is completely unremarkable. Seonghwa groans and keeps turning. He almost passes the sports festival page, but a name in bold type stops him.

“Kim Hongjoong… Third place in- what? No fucking way.” But there it is in black and white: Kim Hongjoong third place in  the long jump . His freshmen year, too. That seems… Unlikely. “Wh- High jump, too? No fucking way.”

Seonghwa throws the yearbook aside and opens another. It’s the second year one. The photo is very similar. Hongjoong’s hair is slightly longer but aside from that, it’s more of the same - just as awkward, uncomfortable, and glum. That year his picture is in choir and the track club. He takes third in the long jump and second in the high jump. 

“This is getting me nowhere,” Seonghwa concludes with a huff. After poring through the yearbooks, all he’s learned so far is that Hongjoong likes music and somehow held school records for track events. In spite of that, he apparently didn’t care enough to compete or go for sports scholarships. He feels frustrated, and regret starts to sink in more and more with each completely ordinary discovery. He asks himself: what did he want to find? It’s not like a high school yearbook is going to explain how a perfectly normal-looking student dove off the deep end and became a superstitious stalker. Or how said student happens to know intimate details of his RA’s life. Hwa hoped for some insight on the guy. Maybe where he’s from or the type of people he hung out with. Save for the club photos, he’s not really in anything else. Did he keep to himself?

But then what was the secretary saying about his “spirit”? Hwa wishes he’d listened. Maybe she could have told him more, but all he could think about at that moment was the archives room. Now that would tell him everything. Addresses, grades, infractions - hell, vaccinations. If he could get into those, he might begin to get an idea as to who Kim Hongjoong really is.

“Excuse me,” A soft voice rouses Seonghwa from his thoughts. 

He startles slightly from the sudden interruption but quickly smooths over his perturbed expression, “O-Oh, hello.” He greets the librarian with a phony smile. 

“Mr. Choi, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to let you know it’s lunchtime.”

“It- It is?” Seonghwa quirks a brow.

“Oh, yes- the bell is very hard to hear in here. It’s insulated to keep it quiet- you know, for studying and all that.”

“Right. Um, I suppose I shouldn’t keep you from your lunch, then. If you need to lock up, I can go,” Hwa stubbornly maintains a grin while fury boils on the inside. He wanted something more. He’s not sure what, but more. Some kind of smoking gun or missing piece, something to link him to Kim Hongjoong or Hongjoong to lunacy. He’s not sure what exactly he was looking for, but he traveled a long way not to find it.

“Oh, no,” She waves kindly. “We don’t let the kids stay in here, but you’re a special exception. I know I can trust a frat board member to behave in my absence. Just keep it quiet, okay?” She laughs.

The unexpected development gives Hwa’s mood a much needed lift, and he smiles genuinely, “I promise, it’ll be like nobody’s here.”

“Good, good. Now, will you be opposed to me locking you in here? Students really aren’t allowed to be present when I’m gone.”

“I should be fine,” Seonghwa says. The cogs in his brain start turning furiously. “Actually, if I need to use the restroom… Could I just maybe prop a door open with a stop? Just a tiny bit? The restroom’s just outside, um, across the hall, right?”

“Yes, yes… Oh, that should be fine, dear. Just- like I told you, nobody can be here. And also, if anyone asks,” She lowers her voice to a whisper, “I didn’t let you stay during lunch.”

Seonghwa rewards the woman with a charming smile and a wink, “It’ll be our secret.”

The woman lets out a bubbly giggle and waves farewell, “Alrighty then. I’m gonna turn most of the lights off, but I’ll keep the one by you on. There’s a stopper by that door if you just want to pop it in place so the door’s open a crack.”

“Got it,” Seonghwa answers, nodding happily. “Oh, wait- One more question.”

“Yes, dear?”

“Is everyone on lunch at this time? Like, all the teachers, office staff...”

“Everyone save for the custodians and lunch proctors. Why do you ask?”

“Just in case of an emergency. A zeta always has to be prepared,” Seonghwa lies. “Have a good lunch!” He waves and winks one more time, just to be sure she’s not thinking straight when she leaves him unattended in the library by himself.

All by himself.

The place is eerie in low lighting. Of course, he has no intention of actually staying there with whatever spooky specters wander the old stacks. Seonghwa gives himself about five minutes of quiet to contemplate his plan of action. Lunch is about an hour, give or take, and he intends on using as much of that time as possible.

The school is old, and it’s nestled in a relatively safe suburb just over an hour from the nearest major city (where his university is). Nothing necessitates particularly stringent security. Nobody really refers to paper archives in these days. The room is probably deserted. With everyone on lunch, it would be criminally easy to break-in. It would also be just plain criminal, but that’s only if he gets caught.

And Seonghwa doesn’t plan on getting caught.

When his five are up, Seonghwa swiftly slips through the cracked door. He casts cursory glances left and right down the hallway. A few straggling students amble along in the distance, but there’s nobody close to his vicinity. Hwa does his best to look nonchalant as he walks against general traffic toward the steps. Stress jostles in his gut as he takes the stairs two at a time, head whipping around to scan his surroundings.

He turns the corner and trots toward the main office, hoping that door isn’t locked, too. Vague silhouettes show through the frosted glass door, but Hwa can’t tell if they’re people or furniture. When the door abruptly swings open, he gets his answer. Panicked, Seonghwa promptly presses himself between two sets of lockers and hopes for the best. If it’s the secretary who he’d spoken to earlier, he’s definitely done for.

Much to Seonghwa’s relief, it isn’t her. The worker taps on their phone distractedly as they walk past, and Hwa hops out from his hiding place speedily the second they pass. He just barely manages to catch the door before it shuts. The fake frat boy peers in cautiously, spinning a fake story just in case someone catches him. He takes a step in and checks the office. 

The lights are on, but nobody’s home. No secretary, no open doors to the connected offices. 

“Thank god,” Seonghwa heaves a sigh of relief. He freezes up for a second. Eyes wide, he inspects the corners of the ceiling. “No cameras,” He breathes out with relief.

The blond, not keen on wasting time, rushes over to the door that’d so prominently pronounced itself to him earlier. The knob doesn’t turn. Instead, it responds to his try at getting in with a stubborn clunking sound.

“Shit,” Hwa hisses. It’s locked. He wrings a hand through his hair, “Okay. Think, think, think…” He checks the top of the secretary's desk for a spare set of keys but no dice. Of course she wouldn’t leave them there, he thinks. That would be stupid. He eyes her drawers momentarily, but most of them have locks save for the first one. 

“This is wrong,” He whispers to himself as he gingerly slides her top drawer open. “This is so wrong.” The drawer hardly has anything helpful. There’s some scratch pads, post-its, pens, and other miscellaneous office supplies.

“Son of a bitch,” Hwa curses. Angry, he turns around and tries the door again. Nothing. He tries it again. The door nearly comes off its hinges. It’s a shitty, old door with a shitty, old lock. If he tried hard enough, he could probably actually break it, but that would be very illegal and very noisy. Someone somewhere has to have a shitty, old key. At least, that’s Hwa’s rationale as he wracks his brain for other easy to access places one might stash a key to a room nobody cares about. He starts pondering where the janitor would keep spare keys when his eye catches the keyhole of the old knob again. It’s old. Simple. Rudimentary.

Hwa opens the secretary’s drawer again and takes out the biggest paperclip he can find.

“Remember, Seonghwa,” He reassures himself as he crouches down by the door. “You’re doing this for your sanity.” 

After great effort and a few suspect searches on his phone browser, he manages to break into the school’s archive room. Like any sane, reasonable man would.

“Holy shit,” Seonghwa laughs wryly. “I actually fucking did it.” There isn’t much time to relish in the victory, though. He’s probably burned a quarter of his hour already. Plus, who knows when people will start trickling back in. Most people don’t actually take their full lunch break nowadays.

Hwa slips into the archives room, shutting the door behind him softly. He flicks on a light then thinks better of it. On the off chance someone is really early, the light is sure to arouse suspicion. Seonghwa opts to use his phone flashlight instead. Something about a flashlight being the sole source of light in a dark place is inherently ominous. That, along with the musty smell of years old files weighs Hwa’s chest down with a sense of dread.

“Now would be a very bad time to find out this place is haunted,” He jokes to himself. 

The archives room is deceptively large. From the main office, it looks like nothing more than a closet, but it stretches surprisingly far back. In it are rows and rows of shelves lined with old banker’s boxes. No doubt these are chock full of old student files. Seonghwa shines his flashlight around and starts trying to make sense of the place.

It’s organized by graduation year, then by last name. Seonghwa ventures a few rows in before finding the proper year. From there it’s easy. Hwa pulls out the box that matches up with the redhead’s last name (and kicks up a cloud of dust with it). He tosses the lid down and starts sifting through the densely packed manila folders. To think, all the years of struggle and effort can be reduced to mere slivers of paper and packed into a little file.

Seonghwa murmurs to himself as he searches, “Kim, Kim, Kim, Kim… Kim Hongjoong, there you are!” He gasps, and his brows raise. “Aren’t you a thick file?” Hongjoong’s file is not just thick. It is by far the thickest. “Now what’s this about? Did you have behavioral issues, Hongjoong?”

Consumed by intrigue, Seonghwa opens the file eagerly, “Let’s see, Kim Hongjoong. Male… Yup, that’s his picture. Let’s see. Born in-” Seonghwa chokes. He flips through the heap of papers relating to Kim Hongjoong frantically.

“There’s no fucking way,” Seonghwa whispers exasperatedly. “This- This can’t be right.” He finds another paper. Something about vaccinations. Oh, good, he was vaccinated for the flu during his second year. Excellent. That doesn’t explain the anomaly of his birth year, though. Hwa tries to find another document. A confirmation of physical wellness for track club denotes the same birth date. 

Seonghwa travelled this far and broke into an archives room to illegally look at files he has no right to. He did this in hopes of getting answers - answers to a question he’s not positive he knows or understands. Instead, all he’s getting is another question. A big one at that.

Hwa double checks the graduation year he’s in just to make sure he’s right. It is, in fact, the graduation year after his. Given that Hongjoong is a year below Seonghwa, it’s logical to assume the redhead graduated the year after Seonghwa. The paperwork seems to support that assumption as well. But his age…

According to the papers, Hongjoong is four years older than Seonghwa.

Hwa’s heard of people being held back, but four years? That’s essentially the entirety of high school. How can someone be held back for four years ?

A noise outside of the archives door pulls Seonghwa out of his dazed contemplation. Seonghwa’s heart lurches. He stressedly peeks out from the edge of the shelf to find the source. A hazy, vaguely human-shaped splotch shifts around malignantly beyond the frosted glass.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa whispers to himself.

Someone’s cut their lunch short. Very short. Seonghwa cowers behind the shelf. His mind reels as he tries to figure out what the hell he’s going to do. The file. He checks the file which is now a mess due to his frantic search for a sensible birth date. In a tizzy, he starts taking pictures with his phone, praying the flashlight doesn’t rouse any attention. Luckily, the shelf behind gives him enough cover to not be completely obvious. It’s not likely anyone is going to dip into the paper archives room for anything during lunch. Most of that stuff is digitized in this day and age, anyway - that’s what Hwa keeps telling himself to keep the looming mental breakdown at bay.

He snaps picture after picture after picture. He takes a picture of every single page no matter how inconsequential at a glance. All the while he mouths out curses to himself. So much for peace of mind. The second he finishes the file, he shoves everything back into the folder and stuffs it into the box.

Seonghwa glances out the frosted glass again. He holds out hope that maybe he’d just seen something, but, nope, there it is. The silhouette.

“What are you doing?” He whispers angrily. “Go on your lunch break.” A cold sweat clams up the surface of his skin.

Things escalated more than they really ought to have. Seonghwa realizes this now. He shouldn’t be here. Not just “here” as in holed up in the musty archive room of a high school he didn’t even go to. Here as in at the high school, period. Here as in the mental place that drove him to stalk the guy who he’d scorned for stalking him. 

Yet there he is, on his hands and knees crawling toward the door to the aforementioned archive room because standing up runs the risk of being seen.

Seonghwa presses himself against the door, just barely sticking his head up enough to see out the window. He watches carefully for what feels like years. Part of him fears that breathing too loud will alert the misty figure on the other side of the door that he’s there.

The shadow shifts, and Hwa boldly presses his face closer to the glass to watch. They turn a corner and disappear to the left. Seonghwa vaguely remembers the layout of the office space. To the left of the archive room should be a little hallway leading to more offices. That means the person shouldn’t be able to see him come out of the door. But, still, what happens when he emerges? How does he explain being behind the desk?

Hwa doesn’t care. There’s no time to care. He turns the knob to the archive room gingerly. The squeaky clunking noise it makes sounds deafening to Seonghwa, and he winces with each little clack and thud that comes out of the ancient, infernal lock mechanism.

So far, the coast appears to be clear. Seonghwa opens the door just a sliver. He doesn’t see anyone nor hear anything. It’s a decent sign, but far from comforting. His vantage is pretty damn rotten down on the ground behind the door. Regardless, Hwa has nothing better to do, and every second ticking by is a second that the enigmatic shadow could return.

Quietly, Seonghwa opens the door. He slinks through the second it’s open just enough and shuts it like it’s made of fragile glass. 

Good.

Nobody’s around. 

This might actually work.

Seonghwa takes a deep breath and stands up slowly. There’s nobody in front of the secretary’s desk or in the sitting area. He glances at the hall beyond the desk. Nobody. That leaves the hallway behind and to the left - where the other person had gone.

Hwa’s blood turns cold when he sees madame secretary herself. She’s yawning over a copy machine at the end of the hall. Seonghwa mouths out another “fuck” and calculates his next move. He figures the only way to go is forward. Jumping over her desk is much too brazen in his opinion, so he has to risk crossing her line of sight. Even if just in her peripherals, passing through could alert her and raise questions. The entire facade could come crashing down on him if he’s unlucky.

Seonghwa once again hits the go button. The longer he waits the closer she’ll get to finish her task. He tiptoes into the narrow hall. He persistently watches her in doing so, watching over his shoulder with bated breath. The secretary grabs a few papers off of the copy machine tray and starts making her way back to the desk.

“Shit,” Seonghwa mutters to himself. He wonders if she’ll notice him crawling in front of her desk. He ought to be out of vision from that spot, but that’s assuming she goes to sit at her desk. Hwa starts rushing toward the door, hoping she doesn’t look up from the stack of papers she’s counting as she walks. The door out is close. So, so close. He’s seconds away from reaching it.

However, fate plays a prank on him instead.

Seonghwa’s feet tangle, and he dumbly falls flat onto the ground. Unable to contain it, he lets out a pained groan and winces. He gets up onto all fours and crawls toward the secretary’s desk, but he knows it probably won’t do him any good.

“Wh- Huh?” Her voice rings out behind him.

Busted.

“Mr. Choi, what are you doing here during lunchtime? Oh- I’m sorry, I should ask, are you okay?” The secretary stands over him with a puzzled look on her face.

“U-Uh- I- I tripped,” Seonghwa responds dumbly.

“I can see that. Are you hurt?” She starts appearing less inquisitive and more worried.

“O-Oh, I’m- I’m fine,” Seonghwa coughs. He scrambles onto his feet awkwardly and dusts himself off. “Only thing hurt is my pride, really.” He half-heartedly jokes.

The woman chuckles and shakes her head, “Whatever you say. But, um, what’re you doing here during lunch? Nobody’s supposed to be in the office during lunchtime.”

“I- I’m sorry,” Seonghwa lets out a sheepish laugh. “I didn’t know.”

“How’d you even get in here? The door’s supposed to be locked. Did someone let you in?”

“Uh- No. It was unlocked,” Seonghwa answers. “I am so, so sorry. I wasn’t aware of your policy.” He tries his best to look apologetic and pitiable.

“It wasn’t?” The secretary sighs. “I’ll have to talk to the aid again. She keeps forgetting to lock it.”

“Please don’t scold her on my account,” Seonghwa says sheepishly. “Oh, um, my reasoning for being here was that I wanted to return this.” He removes the clip-on guest badge he’d been given from his jacket. “I’ve gotten everything I need, so I’ll be on my way.”

“So soon?” The secretary asks. “Well, I suppose you college kids are busy people.” She takes the badge and gives him a kindly smile.

“Quite,” Hwa nods politely.

“So… I have to ask: did he get in?”

“Hm?”

“Kim Hongjoong? Do you think he’s Zeta material?” She giggles impishly.

“Ah- Yes. That matter is… Still up for discussion. As you know these things have to be agreed on.”

“Right, right, of course, but…” Her voice lowers, and she peers intently into Seonghwa’s eyes. “What do you think?”

“U-Uh, me?” Hwa nibbles on his lower lip as he tries to formulate an appropriate, believable, not-weird answer. “I think… He’s certainly extraordinary. Unlike any person I’ve ever met.”

The secretary beams with pride, “That fits the bill for the Kim Hongjoong I remember.” She claps happily, “Well, then, I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you for looking into our Kim Hongjooong.”

“It’s me who ought to thank you for having me,” Seonghwa nods politely. “Goodbye.”

“Buh-bye!” The secretary jovially waves as he departs.

Stress permeates every cell of Seonghwa’s body as he steps out of that office. It stays there as he descends the steps and leaves the building. He mindlessly walks down the block just get away from the place, and the anxiety stubbornly remains. Even when the place is blocks behind him, he can’t shake the feeling of nerves. So much storms through his head.

He can’t believe he got away with that. He can’t believe he did it in the first place and for whom and why. He can’t believe any of it.

When the high of stress fueled adrenaline starts dwindling, Seonghwa finally stops walking and calls a cab to the train station. All he’d done in there was snap, snap, snap; he didn’t have time to really look through anything.

Seonghwa prays that somewhere on his phone there’s a sort of answer to all of these riddles, a cosmic link. Even just the tiniest inclination as to what the fuck is going on would help his state of mind. He can’t go on the way he is right now. Confused, devastated, and upset.

He has to know: who is Kim Hongjoong?

Neverland is drearier than Seonghwa has ever seen it before. For the first time since ever, the skies are gray and a chilly wind rustles all the leaves. Under the dark sky, everything looks gloomier. It’s like the air itself is sapping life out of everything around it. The birds have gone quiet and the frogs don’t warble. There’s not a critter to be seen. Along the shore, the waves just barely lap at the sand bar.

All of Neverland has slowed to near still, a lot like Hongjoong.

The leader of the lost boys hasn’t left bed for three days. Seonghwa has graduated from worried to panicked. He pored through every relevant book in their stack and concluded that Hongjoong needs true love’s kiss. It’s the only thing that’s left. No medicines have worked, no plants or incantations or prayers. Magic is all they have left.

So magic they shall use - or at least try to.

Seonghwa’s chest aches as he lands outside the den. There are others there ready to greet him. The lost boys and an honored guest he’d personally requested. 

Seonghwa tries not to frown too much as he approaches and greets them, “Hey guys.” He turns and bows to his honored guest, “Hello, Princess Tigerlily.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Seonghwa,” The princess curtseys, “I’m sorry it must be under such terrible circumstances.”

“Thank you for coming,” The eldest says.

“The lost boys have done a lot for my tribe. They are cherished friends. We would do anything for you all - especially Hongjoong.”

“I’m- I’m glad,” Seonghwa forces a polite smile. “Guys, how’s he doing?”

The lost boys exchange a few crestfallen looks, and a couple shake their heads. Not good. 

“W-Well, let’s go in, then,” Seonghwa ushers the crowd toward the entrance of the underground hideout. He’s the last to descend the steps into their cozy cave. The mood inside is even more depressing. It’s dim save for a couple of candlelit lamps and Maddox’s faint glimmer. The fairy hasn’t let Hongjoong out of his sight since the leader got sick. The lost boys crowd around the bed at the end, and Seonghwa pushes through them to get a look at the leader himself.

Seonghwa’s heart crumbles.

Hongjoong looks more like a statue than a boy. His pale body lays perfectly still. Seonghwa even has to press his ear to the other’s chest just to make sure there’s a heartbeat. Stifling a sniffle, Hwa turns to the throng gathered around the bed.

“B-Back up a bit everyone,” He commands shakily. He just wants to hug the other and cry. He wants to smack Hongjoong awake and tell him to snap out of it. He wants to fly around with the redhead and laugh at his stupid jokes. 

He just wants his best friend back.

Seonghwa extends a hand toward Princess Tigerlily, “Your majesty if you could just- just come here. I called you because we need your help. I think you can be the answer to curing Hongjoong.”

Tigerlily points to herself, surprised, “Who- Me?”

The black-haired boy nods, “Yes.”

“Wait-” One of the lost boys pipes up, “How come she can help him but we can’t?”

“Yeah, what’s this all about?” Another asks.

Seonghwa sighs and explains, “Okay, well… We tried everything else. Medicines, herbs, sleep, giving him good food and drinks, but nothing’s working. Maddox suggested we try magic, and… Well, I don’t know a lot about magic spells, but-” He grabs Snow White off of the edge of Joong’s bed and shows the cover, “-we might know how to crack this one. I- I don’t know if this is a curse, but…”

Hwa bites his lip nervously. He’d been dreading asking this, but it has to be done. For Hongjoong. Seonghwa will endure it no matter how awkward or uncomfortable or hard to watch.

“Look,” Seonghwa glances at Snow White pointedly, “In- In this story- and so, so many others, what breaks bad spells and solves problems is a kiss. Usually, it’s a guy that kisses a princess, but… W-Well, Tigerlily is a princess, and Hongjoong is a guy. S-So, I think that- that maybe if she kisses him, whatever sickness or curse that’s on him will lift.”

“Wait- You want her to kiss him?” One of the other boys asks in disbelief.

“Hongjoong would kill you if you let a girl kiss him!” Another adds, scandalized.

“Princess Tigerlily,” Seonghwa pleads, ignoring the others’ protests. “I know it’s- it’s kind of weird, but… Would you please kiss Hongjoong? I think it might be the only way.”

“I… Seonghwa, I’m not sure that’s how that works,” The princess replies. Hwa’s shoulders slump, and he gets ready to say an apology. However, she adds, “But for Hongjoong - and the lost boys - I’ll do whatever is asked if a life is at stake.”

“O-Okay, then, just, um…” Seonghwa awkwardly shuffles to the side and gestures to the sleeping redhead.

Tigerlily nods and advances slowly. She inspects the sleeping boy closely. A few of the lost boys wince and cringe while others subtly lean in to watch closely. Seonghwa can’t take his eyes away as the beautiful tribal princess lowers her face close to Hongjoong’s. He imagines this is what watching a trainwreck is like. He doesn’t want to see it, but he can’t stop.

A few gasps sound out as Princess Tigerlily’s lips touch Hongjoong’s. Seonghwa’s heart writhes, stabbed with an ugly, agonizing pain. For a moment, the entire room holds its breath.

The princess pulls away slowly and trains her gaze on the boy below.

A minute passes by, but nothing visibly changes. He doesn’t stir one bit.

Princess Tigerlily hangs her head low and turns to Seonghwa, “I-I’m sorry.” She clenches her fists in front of her dress. “I’m so sorry.”

A couple of cries and sniffs echo across the hideout.

“It’s- It’s okay,” Seonghwa replies, his voice thick. “Thanks for trying. It’s… It’s all we can do.”

“I- I shall go to my people and insist that we pray more. Surely this spell will break.”

“Of course,” Hwa says. Despair sits in his stomach, heavily. “U-Um, if a couple of you could- could escort her back home.” A couple of teary-eyed lost boys graciously volunteered and left with her.

“What are we gonna do?” “Is- Is he gonna be like this forever?” “Is he gonna die?” “Hongjoong…” Cries and questions that nobody can answer fill the hideout. In spite of all the noise, Hongjoong remains completely unmoving. There’s not even a twitch or a cough. Seonghwa hesitantly reaches out a hand to check the other’s temperature.

He gasps, drawing his hand back quickly. It’s cold. He’s cold. Hwa’s hands shoot to cover his mouth, and he suppresses a wail of agony. His eyes squeeze shut, and his body folds over itself as it dawns on him that his friend isn’t merely sick. He’s dying. With every day, he’s wearing away more and more. How long until Hongjoong diminishes into nothing?

“H-Hwa are you okay?” One of the lost boys asks, rushing to his side.

“I- I’m fine!” Seonghwa lashes out, shoving the other away. He wipes a hand roughly across his face and sniffs loudly. “He’s cold. He needs something hot to drink. M-Maybe some hot stones for his bed.”

“Uh…” “Um-”

“Please!” Seonghwa turns around and insists. “Please just go. Hot tea and hot stones, now!” He demands in a shaky voice. Nobody protests even though Hwa had delivered the order so rudely. Even Maddox leaves, twinkling something or the other to Seonghwa before flittering away. 

With the departure of the lost boys and Princess Tigerlily, everything gets quiet.

Seonghwa feels at a loss. He feels useless and wonders if he should go out and do something, too. But he can’t leave Joong alone, either, so he stays. He tries to warm the other’s face with his hands, but it doesn’t really work. Hongjoong’s body just saps all the warmth from Seonghwa until he’s shivering.

He really thought the kiss would work. Knowing that the kiss - his last idea, the only other thing he could think of - didn’t work, kills him. Without the others nearby, Seonghwa openly cries. He cries and cries and cries. He cries until he’s an exhausted, winded, wet mess.

“H-Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispers to the other, “What’re we gonna do?” A tear rolls off of his cheek onto Hongjoong’s. “Oh- Gosh,” Hwa sniffles, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I- I cried on you. Look what you made me do you big dummy.” He swipes the tear off of Hongjoong’s cold, porcelain cheek. “Made me cry on you.”

Hwa lets out an airy laugh, “Yeah, I bet you’re loving this, aren’t you?” He jokes. For some reason, it comforts him to talk to Joong as if he’s totally fine. “You get to enjoy a nap while the rest of us fuss over you. Probably makes you real happy that you’re the center of attention.” He chuckles weakly, swiping a thumb across the other’s cheek again.

“Hey,” Seonghwa says, his voice low and hoarse from all the crying. “Hey we’re friends, right?” He’s not sure why he’s asking. Of course they are. “Don’t… Don’t friends love each other, too?”

It starts building up in his head brick by brick, this idea.

“I mean, all those… All those books they’re- the spells are broken by true love’s kiss, but who says true love has to be just a princess and a prince, right? I mean, we love each other, but we’re not- it’s- it’s not like that… Right?”

Seonghwa swallows down the big lump in his throat.

“Because that’s for grownups. And we can’t grow up here in Neverland it’s… It’s against the rules,” He licks his lips nervously. “But friends, that’s- that’s different. The love of friendship is- is real and valid, so- so what if I… If I just…”

Nervousness tosses and turns in Seonghwa’s stomach. He can barely breathe, and the closer he gets to Joong the harder it gets. He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists in his lap. He can feel his breath bounce off of the other’s skin as he goes lower and lower, closer and closer. 

Until finally, his lips make contact with Hongjoong’s cheek. 

Seonghwa plants a nice, friendly peck. He lingers there for a few seconds. He’s never exactly kissed someone before. Not that this is, like, a kiss kiss. He has kissed his family and pets, but this isn’t like that. But obviously, it’s not like that kind of kiss, either.

Then, he waits.

He waits and waits and waits. 

Seonghwa’s lip quivers when, after five minutes, nothing happens. Nothing changes.

“Hongjoong…” Seonghwa sniffles. He hits the other lightly with his hand. “Hongjoong, you jerk… Get up already.” He hits the other again. “Just get up, you jerk. Stop making us worry.”

A soft, steady pattering sound trickles into the den. It’s raining outside. For the first time ever since Seonghwa’s been there, it’s raining. He imagines the lost boys are all ducking for cover. Even safe in the den, he feels like he wants to cower under something, too. His entire body aches from anguish. All he’s been able to think about for what feels like forever is Hongjoong. He wakes up concerned and goes to bed distressed. All he wants is to see that stupid smile again. He wants to hear the other taunt him and to get beaten in a flying race.

“Hongjoong, stop it already,” The black-haired boy sobs and hits him again, “Stop it you jerk. Just- Just wake up already. This isn’t f-funny.”

Seonghwa crumples over until he’s just a crying mess on top of the other, “If- If you don’t wake up, I’ll hate you, you know that? I’ll hate you forever.”

A clap of thunder echoes in from up above. The force of it is so violent, it shakes the lanterns and books resting on the walls. Yet, even so, Hongjoong remains completely and utterly still.

“I’ll never forgive you, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa cries with his head buried in the blanket heap. “I’ll never, ever forgive you if you don’t just- just get better!”

The rain sounds almost deafening now. It’s like it’s hammering down from above, and another bolt of thunder shakes the ground. Seonghwa stays the way he is for a while. He just hugs the blankets on top of Joong and wails until he’s tired again. His chest aches and his eyes are sore from all the crying. Every time he thinks he can’t shed another tear, more well up in his eyes.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa sniffles. He stands up straight and wipes his face with the back of his wrist. “Hongjoong…” He frowns down at the completely motionless redhead. Seonghwa ghosts a hand over the other’s cheek. It’s like porcelain - pale and cool to the touch. He frowns. He walks a finger over to Hongjoong’s nose and lets it rest there, just to make sure he’s breathing. He is, thankfully - but barely. Then, he grazes Hongjoong’s pale, cracked lips.

Seonghwa’s head tilts curiously, and the fingers that’d traced the other’s face go to his own lips. Maybe the magic didn’t fail because of their friendship, but because of where he’d kissed Hongjoong. It’s an optimistic, sort of last-resort kind of thought that bubbles up in Hwa’s head. 

Desperate, he latches onto that idea. 

His eyes fall on the other’s lips again, and he asks himself: is this okay? Can he do it? What does it mean if he does? Does it even mean anything? Will Hongjoong know or remember?

Seonghwa shoves the thoughts out of his head. He decides: he doesn’t care. If there’s even a chance Hongjoong will get better, he’ll do it. No matter what.

Seonghwa shudders with nerves as he lowers himself again. He blinks his eyes shut and clutches the blankets in a vice grip to vent the tension. Once again, he can feel the tickle of breath bouncing off of skin. His own warmth radiates off of Hongjoong. Their noses brush, and Seonghwa feels his heart flip and flop. He can’t back down now, though. Seonghwa’s entire body tenses as he finally lurches forward, making their lips meet. He realizes that doesn’t exactly constitute a kiss; so, just to be sure, he makes the conscious effort to press his lips on the other’s gently.

Tension uncoils and Seonghwa’s body gradually relaxes. His fists loosen up and he tilts his head like what he sees in movies. Warmth floods his body, pooling in his face and prickling his ears. His heart flutters around faster than a fairy, zipping and zooming so much in his chest he’s afraid it’ll burst out.

“M-mn…” A soft croak comes out of Hongjoong’s throat.

Seonghwa feels the vibrations through his lips which prompts him to back off. With wide eyes, he watches life gradually return to Hongjoong’s face. The redhead winces and twitches. He stretches slowly and blinks his eyes open. In just a short few instants, color returns to his face, and life glimmers beneath his eyes.

“Hmm… Seonghwa?” Hongjoong asks dazedly. “Seonghwa, you-”

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa jumps on top of the other and hugs the life out of him. “You’re awake!”

“Uff- Hwa,” Joong whines - he actually whines. He has the energy and will to whine ! Never has that been so exhilarating to hear. “You’re killing me.”

“Shut up,” Seonghwa says. 

“Wh- Hwa, why?”

“You idiot, why didn’t you wake up sooner!” Seonghwa demands, looming over the other.

“I was just sleepy, that’s all. Why are you overreacting so much? Wait… Are you- Were you crying?”

“Sh-shut up.”

“Oh my god, were you crying over me ?”

“Shut up! Ugh- Why are you such a jerk?!” Seonghwa sniffs.

“Aww, Hwa was crying over lil’ old me,” Hongjoong singsongs hoarsely.

“It’s not funny, Hongjoong,” Hwa tries to sound tough and intimidating, but he’s closer to crying than fury. 

“Wh- Seonghwa, I was just playing around,” He coughs.

Hwa wipes his eyes again, “It’s not funny.” He says more weakly.

Hongjoong’s devilish grin falls, “I… I’m sorry, Seonghwa.”

“You should be. Do you know how much you made us worry.”

“N… No?”

“What even happened, anyway? Did you eat a poisoned apple or something? Prick your finger on a spindle?”

“I- I dunno. Why so many quest-”

“Wait- How are you feeling now? Are you-” Hwa plants a palm on Joong’s forehead. “Are you hot? Cold? Hungry? You’ve gotta be hungry.”

“Seonghwa-”

“Is anything hurting? We- We have medicine. The boys were getting tea-”

“Seonghwa!” Hongjoong shouts so loud he wheezes. “H-Hwa. I’m fine.”

“I… You… You don’t look fine. I mean, you’re better, but- but what if it happens to you again?”

“What?”

“What if you fall asleep like that again? And don’t get up for days?”

“Well, I woke up this time. So I’ll wake up again,” The redhead shrugs.

“You didn’t just wake up.”

“How’d I wake up, then, huh? Whatever you did or gave me just do it again.”

Hwa’s hand clamps over his mouth and red flushes his cheeks again, “That… That’s not the point! You need to not fall asleep and get all cold and make us think you’re dead!”

“Wh- Oh my gosh, fine,” Hongjoong huffs. “Jeez.”

“Good. Now that we’ve got that established, do you… Do you need anything to eat? Drink?”

“My throat is pretty scratchy. I can get it myself th-”

Hwa holds Hongjoong’s shoulders down before he can even make a move, “No way. I’ll get it.”

“Um- Why don’t you grab Maddox, Hwa?” Hongjoong suggests. “I know it’s getting late for you. Or, well, at least I think. It feels late. What time is it, anyway?”

Seonghwa heaves a sigh. Hongjoong is right. It is getting late. But Joong just woke up. Seonghwa can’t leave him now. What if Joong reverts back to his sleeping state? What if Joong needs something that’s too heavy for Maddox?

“It is late,” Seonghwa says. He hops off of the bed and crosses over the cupboard where they keep fresh water.

“You gotta go soon, right?” Hongjoong asks, not even hiding his sadness. “Just put the water by me and I’ll be fine.” The redhead’s face scrunches with aches and pains as he starts to sit up.

“Scoot over,” Seonghwa instructs.

“What?”

“I said scoot over.”

“Uh-”

“Just do it.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong blinks confusedly. The redhead complies, scooting to the other side of the bed cove.

Seonghwa hops into the emptied spot and throws the blankets over his legs, “Here, I got you.” He passes over the bottle. “Can you- Are you good to hold it or do you need help?”

“U-Uh- Um. I can try… Holding it,” Hongjoong looks more feverish now. His cheeks are pink and nose ruddy. Even though it’s far from ideal, it’s a welcome change compared to his statue-like state from before. Joong takes the bottle and carefully tips it to his lips. Just as Hwa suspected, he’s weak, and his hands shake just from the weight of it.

“Here,” Hwa grabs the bottle by the neck and tips it up to help.

Hongjoong gulps down half of the bottle, breathing out a happy little sigh when he’s done.

“Thanks,” The redhead says with a small smile.

Seonghwa’s heart glows with relief and happiness. That’s what he missed. It’s just a trace of the big, awesome smile he usually sees, but that’s okay. He’s patient.

“Um, Hwa,” Hongjoong mutters, leaning back onto his pillows. “Thanks for… For taking care of me and stuff.”

“Hongjoong, you’re my best friend. Of course I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Yeah, but… Well, thanks anyway. I’m- I’m better now- at least mostly. So you don’t have to worry, okay?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Hwa, I’m fine, really. You should go. I… I know you have to, and that’s okay. As long as you come back.”

Seonghwa shakes his head, “Not tonight.”

“Huh?”

“I’m staying the night.”

“Wh- But- You- You never stay the night,” Hongjoong’s eyes glimmer with wetness. “Did you ask your- your parents?”

“No, but, in this case, it’s kind of a necessity.”

“It is?”

“I don’t trust you not to try something stupid while I’m gone,” Hwa answers flatly. “Knowing you, you’re probably itching to fly or something. Nope. Can’t risk it.”

“You- You can’t risk it?”

“I’d come back tomorrow morning and see you with a broken leg or something.”

“N-No you wouldn’t!”

“I totally would!”

“W-Well, even if you’re here, who’s to say you could stop me from flying?”

“Oh yeah?” Seonghwa laughs. “Is that a challenge?” He turns onto his side and swings a leg over Hongjoong. “Challenge accepted.”

“Wha- What are you doing?” Hongjoong giggles weakly.

“You’re gonna stay put even if I see to it myself.”

“With your leg?”

“Yep.”

“You know, I could totally slip out from under your leg.”

“Oh, yeah? Well then what about this-?” Seonghwa laughs and wraps his arms around Joong, pulling him close. “Ha!”

“Wh- Hwa! I could barely breathe before!”

“You’re not going anywhere- yeek! You’re freezing!”

“And you’re warm,” Hongjoong sighs dreamily. “Give me your warmth.”

“I- I have regrets,” Seonghwa tries to wiggle away.

“Ha-ha! You’ve fallen right into my trap!” Hongjoong titters. He turns over so he’s facing Hwa and slides a hand just under the back of the other’s collar. 

“Oh my god- Cold hands, cold hands, cold hands-!”

The two wrestle and roughhouse until Hongjoong’s weakness eventually takes a toll on him. Seonghwa’s tired, too. The two eventually fall into place, snuggling up on their respective sides of the bed. They each whisper a sleepy goodnight to one another before going mute. 

Seonghwa keeps his ankle over the Hongjoong’s, just in case he gets any ideas about flying at night.

Chapter Text

“Hey, honey,” Seonghwa’s mom greets him warmly when he enters the door. Even though it’s freezing outside, he’s sweating. He rushed from the station to his mom’s. He had swiped through a few of the file photos on his commute, but the constant jostling of the train along with his own nerves made him too nauseous to retain anything. “I put your laundry in the dryer, by the way. You were gone for quite awhile. Did you have a good outing with your friend?”

“Hm?” Seonghwa grunts, puzzled.

“Your- your friend. Didn’t you say you were going out to see some friends from high school?” 

“Oh- oh, right,” Seonghwa nods numbly. That’s what he’d told his mom early in the morning when he headed out. “It was good. He’s, um, doing good.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear. It’s nice that you kids still keep in touch. The dryer should be done soon.”

“Okay, mom,” Hwa silently rushes her.

“What do you want for dinner tonight, dear?”

“Uh- I don’t care. Anything is good.”

“Dear?” Hwa’s mom gives him a good look over the top of her book. “Honey are you okay? Is something bothering you?”

“I need to pee,” Hwa blurts out. Wide-eyed, his mom blinks a few times before laughing.

“Sorry to keep you. Go, go pee,” She waves him away and returns to her paperback romance novel, humming a vague tune.

Seonghwa bolts up the steps and runs to his room. He frantically searches for his phone’s USB cable, tearing apart half the room. It ends up being buried under his blanket, and he yanks it out of the wall charger. While he could look at the files on his phone, he’d much rather read them on a bigger screen. He starts transferring the photos and then actually goes pee.

By the time he returns, the adrenaline of what he’s done has faded. He changes into comfier clothes, shedding the facade of frat boy Choi Mingi. Instead of rushing to his laptop like he’d planned, Hwa ends up collapsing on his bed. The gravity of what he’d just done bears down on him like the blade of a guillotine. To think, after he scorned Hongjoong for stalking him, he pulled that stunt.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa breathes out heavily, wringing a hand down his face. He tries to pin down what exactly drove him to near insanity. He asks himself: why? Why the hell did he do that ? Curiosity? Anger? Confusion? Obsession? He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to rationalize it. He can’t, though. He wants to blame Hongjoong, but how can he? Seonghwa knows that’s not the truth. Hongjoong may have stalked and studied him, but he sure as hell didn’t send Seonghwa to his alma mater to dig up old files. 

Hwa glances at his laptop screen and frowns. He finds himself at a fork in his path. The two choices: leave things as they are and let it go. Let him go. 

Or he can finish what he started and pore over the files as he’d intended. With the information comes no guarantee of peace of mind or even concrete answers. All those files can promise is a chance. A toss of a coin where the faces are heads or insanity.

Hwa’s eyes fall on the white light of his laptop screen again, and they stay there, stuck. He can’t look away. He realizes that, while there is a choice, he doesn’t have a choice. Seonghwa heaves a heavy sigh and picks himself up off of the bed. He plods over to his desk and drops into the chair, his nerves a jumbled mess in his gut.

“Okay,” Seonghwa whispers to himself. He wrings his hands in his lap a few times before finally tapping the touchpad.

His search starts from most recent files first. Hongjoong’s senior year is succinctly laid out in just a handful of papers, one after the other. There’s nothing worth note, really. He had decent grades and good test scores. Nothing excessively impressive nor catastrophic or damning. He got a citation for his piercings - something Hwa would’ve laughed at if his stomach wasn’t busy knotting and unknotting itself. There are physical examinations and vaccination records, declarations of university intentions and aptitude results, psych evaluations and special education considerations.

“What?” Seonghwa narrows his eyes.

That’s interesting. Finally, he thinks, an indication that perhaps Kim Hongjoong is not quite right in the head. A pang of pain knocks at his chest when it occurs to him just how depraved it is to snoop on such an intimate detail on a person’s life. However curiosity overrides his self-loathing, and he reads on.

“Kim Hongjoong is… Stable… Has grown into a… Normal young adult… Hm. Don’t know about that,” Seonghwa presses his lips together. He taps the arrow key, going back to the special education documents. Not once did he peg Hongjoong as the type with special needs. Apparently, neither did he since he opted out of exam aids for his senior year. 

“I don’t get it,” Seonghwa mutters. “What’s wrong with you Kim Hongjoong? Are you sick?” No amount of diagnosable mental disorders can explain the dreams Seonghwa’s been having, though, or the memories chronicled in his journal.

Hwa looks further back and finds more of the same. Everything pops up more frequently the further back in high school he goes - psych evaluations, special needs considerations, even physical examinations increase in frequency. 

Yet nothing ever shows, well, anything. No schizophrenia or debilitating concussion. Hell, not even an allergy. Just a bunch of “stable”s and “N/A”s. He had a prescription for something freshmen year and an extra emergency contact at a nearby hospital. 

“Middle school, huh?” Seonghwa murmurs as the files change. Grainy faxes replace smudged pen. It’s more of the same. Scores, grades, cards, testing, doctor’s notes. Hwa sighs. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but he knows he’s not finding it. He hums idly as he flips through blurred images of documents, “Middle school, middle school, middle school, middle wh-”

He blinks confusedly, flipping between two pages, “What the…” He rubs his eyes and compares the two pages again. 

“The fuck?” Seonghwa mutters. He drags out one of the pictures, comparing them side by side. One is a transfer notice, along with a verification of some passed tests, the other is an old report card. Much older. Four years older, to be precise.

“That’s a four year gap,” Seonghwa says to himself. He shakes his head, “Must be out of order.” Except, it’s not. He reads the school years from one to the other. They’re sequential. He finished one grade one year, and started the next four years later.

Hwa shakes his head in disbelief and flips to another document.

It’s dated four years prior to the other document, too.

“What the… Fuck?” Seonghwa starts tapping the arrow key rapidly, checking date after date after date. The gap is there, plain as day in the chronologically ordered file. The skip is seamless - barely noticeable, really. On one paper is one date, the next, a date four years before. There is no highlighter or red pen, no underlining or scratched arrows. The only reason Seonghwa caught it is because of just how thoroughly he’s searching these documents. It’s consistent with the weird birth date Seonghwa’s been seeing. He’s come to understand that the birth date isn’t weird at all, it’s real - as is the gap in paperwork.

Kim Hongjoong is twenty-four years old, and at some point in his childhood, he sat out of school for four years.

Four years. Four years. What is the significance of that span of time? Something about it rings familiar to Seonghwa, but he can’t remember why. He’d seen it somewhere, that number, but where ? Seonghwa continues his reading, looking for elaboration. While Hongjoong’s high school career had been far from remarkable, his elementary years paint a very different story. The elementary isn’t anywhere close to his high school, implying that Joong moved at some point as a kid. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Seonghwa furrows his brows and double checks the documents on each side of the four year gap. He flips between them, then ventures further into elementary years.

“His last name changed,” Hwa mutters. Document after document reads plain and clear: “Pan Hongjoong”. What a pecuiliar name. Seonghwa’s eager to explore it, but then something gut-wrenching crosses the screen. Hwa shakes his head, swapping to another document, then another and another.

The first major flag is a police record of a call describing a found child. Seonghwa’s heart drops. Soon, the papers involve less about school and more about Hongjoong. Or, more properly, how he was treated. Hwa’s chest tightens when he reads lines such as “parental neglect” and “suspected unfit parent”. There are records of Hongjoong being enrolled in free breakfast and lunch programs, along with faxes sent to Child Protective Services.

An old picture comes up, and suddenly breathing becomes infinitely harder for Seonghwa. It’s a simple candid from the yearbook. He’s holding up a still life of some bottles, likely something he did for art class. He’s got a little, tight-lipped smile and bright red hair. He must’ve been around nine or ten at the time. Maybe younger. It’s hard to tell, Hwa muses. Hongjoong was a tiny child. He goes flips through a few more papers. His grades weren’t as good in elementary. His parents missed almost half a dozen parent-teacher meetings - at least, that’s what the notes about rescheduling them implies. The more Seonghwa reads, the more tightly the dread in his chest coils. The final straw is a scanned note from the school nurse to the main office. It’s handwritten on stationary with kittens. It’s jarring to see fluffy cats lining the bottom of a note discussing “concerning bruises” on a child’s body. 

Seonghwa abruptly closes out of the photo app and clutches the edge of his desk with white knuckles. 

It takes him a few moments to compose himself. His gut reaction is overwhelming distress. His heart splinters, and all he can think about is worst case scenarios involving the other as a tiny, helpless child. He reminds himself that this is Hongjoong, the guy that stalked him. The guy that, apparently, dropped out of school for four years and was subject to years of neglect and potential physical abuse. Seonghwa runs a hand down his face exasperatedly. Try as he might, he can’t shake his base instinct to care for the redhead. In spite of everything, reading all that he has (after he freakishly posed as someone else to break into school records) just makes him want to run to the other more. 

Hwa wonders if he’s the one who’s sick in the head. He wonders where in his life he went so wrong. What did the redhead do or say to make him feel so, so intensely? Why did he want to protect the other so bad and ignore all of the secrets he kept?

Seonghwa strikes the thoughts from his head. Ultimately, all he’s gotten is more questions. He glances at his laptop screen again, opting to change his approach. Official documents and records about the other’s life (and his own life) have gleaned nothing. 

Hwa opens up his browser and types in the search bar: “fairies”.

Instead of trying his angle - logical, real, rooted in the real world - he tries to think from the other’s angle. Seonghwa swaps searches of real people to searches about fairies. Instead of children, he reads about changelings, and he tries almost every link he finds relating back to “Neverland”.

He finds something in an online book titled Encyclopedia of Fairies that says fairies kidnap humans or how they would leave changelings - fairy children - in place of human children. But Hongjoong seems to be himself. Or is it the real him? Hwa briefly entertains the paranoid idea, but when he reads on changeling traits, none seem to describe the redhead. However, it is also said some changelings forget they are fairies. His head starts to spin the deeper he gets into fairy lore. None of it really intersects with Hongjoong’s story or those from his childhood journal.  Maddox, the one he’d written of, is a basic fairy. However there’s nothing more remarkable of note than that. 

Time slips through Seonghwa’s fingers like water. Three hours pass without Hwa noticing. It’s not until his mom’s call for dinner beckons him that he realizes he’d been staring at his laptop for so long.

Dread sits in the bottom of Seonghwa’s gut like lead. He already feels so damn full of it, he can barely put away more than a few bites of his mom’s pork. When she asks him what’s up, he distractedly makes up an excuse about school or work. She accepts it, kindly reminding him to take his things out of the dryer before they wrinkle for good.

Cleaning, tidying, and chores.

Those are things that make sense to Seonghwa. They’re tasks with a clear start and finish to them, along with instant gratification upon completion. They can occupy the hands, body and mind without being too taxing or all consuming.

Seonghwa graciously thanks his mom for the reminder and gets to work on his laundry. He throws himself into the laundry with more gusto than he’s thrown himself into anything for a long time. He promptly finishes washing, drying and folding everything, even going so far as to pressing his pants. When that doesn’t quite vent the stress bottled up inside, he vacuums his old bedroom and organizes the heap of books in his closet. He set aside a handful of old stuff to donate and reshelved the rest.

Upon the experiation of his room’s distracting stimulation, Hwa moved out into the hallway. He swept and mopped so vigorously he worked up a sweat. He proceeded to give the stairs the same treatement until almost every walkable surface in the house was sparkling. 

Even after working himself into exhaustion, Seonghwa couldn’t shake the thoughts of a certain red-haired boy. He eventually throws himself into bed, the scent of bleach lingering on his skin even after his shower. He shuts his eyes praying that sleep take him soon.

Unfortunately, it’s in that moment of vulnerability that voice in the back of his head whispers an idea that he loathed: Get his side of the story.

Seonghwa groans into his pillow, willing the ugly voice to disappear. Tiredness wins out in the end, pulling him into a restless sleep. Though he can’t quite recall the content of his dreams, he can’t shake the impression of red hair and glimmering fairy dust upon waking the next morning.

Seonghwa scans the second floor study room of the science library for a seat. He and a few of the guys agreed to meet up and do homework for the first time in eons. Well, it’s the first time in eons for Seonghwa. The truth is, ever since the entire incident with the redhead who shall not be named, Hwa’s been isolating himself. He hung out with his friends, but only in small, moderate doses. Most of his time he spent moping around in his room or finding the most remote corners of the library possibly to study in.

After the events of the past weekend, Seonghwa decided: enough is enough. He needs his friends. Even if he can’t tell them everything, at least their stupid antics can take his mind off of things. He needs a distraction now more than ever. Everything he found - what he did - haunts him. It’s robbed him of sleep and sanity. He constantly see-saws between wanting to burn the old journal he brought back with him for some reason and wanting to show Hongjoong. Every time he sees suite 324, Hwa’s hand itches with the urge to knock.

He hasn’t, though, nor does he plan to. In truth, he has no plans for anything. Part of him hopes that everything will go away with time, that all of it fades into nothing but a sad, dream-like memory. Occasionally, the sight of red hair or gold glitter spur the thought of Hongjoong. The pitiful part of Hwa that perpetually yearns for the redhead wants nothing more than to understand. The two halves end up cancelling one another out, resulting in complete inaction.

Hwa finds a table in a far corner with enough open spots for everyone. It’s evening which means peak library time. A prime corner spot with four seats won’t stay open for long, so Seonghwa books it. He strides so quickly that he hardly notices the black blur in his peripheral vision at first. But then, it hits him - that hint of familiarity. It prompts him to inspect the hazy black figure further, and his brows raise.

It’s Hongjoong. Head to toe in black sweats and a mask. A few tufts of red hair jut out from a black beanie. Something about him is so… Unlike himself. Seonghwa squints, studying the other from a distance. The redhead’s piercings look modest, like he’d taken a few out, and his eyebrows aren’t done. His hands are stuffed into his hoodie pocket, and his shoulders are slightly hunched. He looks paler than usual for some reason. No, Seonghwa realizes. He frowns. 

Hongjoong looks dull.

The luminescent glow he always appears to naturally possess is nowhere to be seen. Seonghwa’s guts twist in spite of everything. Stalker, Hwa reminds himself harshly, he’s a stalker. As if sensing the blond’s discernment, Hongjoong looks up and makes eye contact with Seonghwa.

Seonghwa freezes like a deer in the headlights, and the two remain fixed, completely still for a long moment. The impulse to go to the other bubbles up in Seonghwa’s chest. He takes a step, and the instant he does, Hongjoong bolts. He pivots on his heel and powerwalks in the opposite direction - just like Seonghwa told him to.

The redhead ends up bumping into someone tall with broad shoulders. Hwa winces when he sees Joong had walked straight into Yunho. Yunho, ever the polite, friendly one, greets Hongjoong kindly with a genuine smile and a wave. Hongjoong mutters something and shuffles away quickly. Yunho watches the other leave, brows knit in bafflement.

Yunho’s eyes meet Seonghwa’s, and that’s when the younger student connects the dots. Hwa gestures to the table in the corner (still miraculously unoccupied), and the two meet. Seonghwa throws his bookbag onto the table and greets the other genially.

“Hey, Yunho. What’s up?”

Yunho doesn’t mince words, “Eh, not much. Hey, what was that about?” He points behind himself.

Seonghwa swallows nervously, “What was what about?”

“C’mon, I know you saw each other.”

“I- I saw who?”

“Really? Do you expect me to pretend he’s dead?” Yunho rolls his eyes. “Who do you think? Hongjoong, dummy.”

“O-Oh, right. Him,” Hwa coughs out. “Yeah, I dunno we saw each other. It was a thing, no big deal. Seems like he was leaving, so,” He shrugs.

“Hey,” Yunho’s tone drops into something more serious, and he looks at Hwa earnestly. “I know it’s none of our business, but, um, you ever gonna tell us what happened between you two?”

Seonghwa groans. Not this again.

“I told you,” The blond answers, “It’s between him and I. It’s… Not something worth talking about.”

“Okay,” Yunho nods, accepting the answer graciously. “Just know, if you ever wanna talk about it, I’m here. We all are.”

“-and so the amazon chose to live among humanity as a protector. She took a role preserving history in a museum, waiting for the day that humanity would inevitably need her help again. The end!” Seonghwa chirps, shutting the book with finality. He brought a novel from home, hoping to change up the paradigm. While the lost boys were pumped at the beginning of the story, their energy has significantly dwindled since then.

Once again, they found themselves at odds with the pirates. Hongjoong came up with the idea of doing a sneaky operation to lift some of their treasure stash. That plot got thwarted when one of the lost boys sneezed too loud, waking up half the ship. The battle that ensued was drawn out. They fought on the ship, then in the water, then on shore. Of course, per usual, the lost boys managed to escape after drawing the pirates into a trap. Seriously, for a bunch of adults, they’re not very smart. They celebrated their victory by sharing their wealth with the tribe and eating roast pig. 

Now, they fight to keep their eyelids open. 

“I’m goin’ to bed,” One of the lost boys yawns. 

“Me, too,” Another follows. One of them stubbornly insists that he’s totally wide awake only to nod off seconds later. The tallest of the lost boys carries the snoozing one off, and another two file into the den shortly after.

It’s just Seonghwa and Hongjoong, now. They’re always the last two around the fire. Hwa got used to it in the past. It was nice, his one on one time with the hyperactive, sought after leader. But now it sort of fills him with dread. Thirteen looms closer and closer every second of every day, and Hwa just wishes he could make time stop. Even if just for a little bit. The uncertainty is killing him. He feels like his birthday is an expiration date, but he’s not sure. What if it isn’t? What if he can come back? But then will the lost boys want to hang out with him when he’s a teenager? Or will they feel weirded out by him?

And what about Hongjoong?

“I… I think I’m gonna go to bed,” Hongjoong says quietly. He’s looking at the fire and not at Seonghwa.

Seonghwa frowns, “Already?” Usually Hongjoong likes to stay up. Sadness makes Hwa’s heart dip. If they truly don’t have a long time left together, how come Joong wants to spend that time asleep?

The redhead stares at the blazing flames in the clearing. Even though he said he wanted to go to bed, his body doesn’t move one bit. The look in his eye is absent. His knuckles are white, strained from clutching something in his lap. Hwa didn’t even notice he had something. The black-haired boy timidly crosses over to the log Hongjoong’s sitting on. Even when he stands next to the leader, the redhead keeps his gaze fixed on the blazing flames.

“What’s that?” Seonghwa asks, purposely blocking Joong’s view and making the leader look at him. He tilts his head curiously and smiles, “Did you wanna read that? I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a story picked out. We can read it now if you want.”

“No,” Hongjoong answers flatly. He almost sounds mad.

Seonghwa frowns, “Oh. Okay. What, um, what story did you bring out with you? Why’d you bring it out?” He forces a light laugh even though he feels sort of nervous. Bad vibes radiate off of Hongjoong like the heat of the fire. Hwa wonders if something is the matter.

“You’re probably familiar with this one,” Hongjoong replies. He doesn’t sound like himself. His tone is strained and tense. “It’s called The Sleeping Beauty.” He turns the book over in his hands a few times before flipping to a particular page. Face expressionless, Hongjoong trhows the book onto the ground at Seonghwa’s feet.

Flickering firelight illuminates the page. Aching pain hits Seonghwa square in the chest as he reads the passage that Joong threw at him with scarcely suppressed anger:

“-and the prince kissed the sleeping beauty, caressing her fair cheek. Love swelled in his heart as he poured his affections into the gesture. The sleeping beauty opened her eyes and smiled upon looking at her love, awoken by true love’s kiss...”

Seonghwa tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. Why is Hongjoong showing him this? Why is he so angry? When he glances at Hongjoong again, the other’s eyes are boring into him, dark and wet. 

“Get out,” Hongjoong snarls.

“Get out,” the boy snarls at Seonghwa. For the life of him, Seonghwa cannot understand why. Why?

Hot tears stream down the older boy’s face, “But- But Hongjoong-” 

“I said get out!” The other shouts again. His face is angry, cheeks tinted a blazing red nearly matching the fiery tones of his hair...

Seonghwa bursts up, thorough disturbation clawing at his insides as he abruptly wakes. Tears stream down his face, and his chest throbs with agony. He’d had dreams like this before - terrible, hazy things that left him feeling despair and loss. Usually, the sensation would fade as he brushed his teeth, trying to remember what scene his subconscious had played out for him.

Not this time, though.

This time, the memory is there, real and vivid, burned into his mind with the rippling intensity of the fire he’d been standing by. A few minutes pass where all Seonghwa can do is steady himself. The emotions, though from a time long before, feel raw and real - because they are . Seonghwa huddles his knees to his chest as they crash over him just as they had in the past, just days before his thirteenth birthday. Seonghwa begs the question:

How could he have possibly forgotten this?

“Shit,” Hwa hisses to himself in the dark room. He buries his face in his knees, shuddering from the violent sobs wracking through his body. “Shit, shit, shit.” He clutches himself tightly, riding out the worst of the pain. His cries are the suffocating kind, the kind that squeeze so much out of him that he can barely breathe or make a sound. Seonghwa can’t remember the last time he’s cried so much, felt so much. 

The agony of reliving Hongjoong’s harsh rejection compounds with how real it all felt. What if Hongjoong is right? What if all of it is true?

The dreams. The blackouts. The strange instances of deja vu. 

A bombardment of memories flood his mind. A flittering fairy and a treasure box, a jungle tribe and a waterfall. Hongjoong sitting on a mountain peak as snow falls gently from the sky. Visions assault him, too fantastical to be real yet too visceral to not be. Utter confusion sends him whirling, adding to the already all consuming sensations of sorrow and despair.

Impulsively, Seonghwa paws around for his phone. The time reads close to three in the morning, but he doesn’t care. He unlocks it and punches the call button on the contact he couldn’t bring himself to delete. 

Then, he waits.

He sniffles and wipes a hand down his face, gradually coming down from the peak of misery. The call drops, and Hwa glares at his phone. He tries again, and the same thing happens.

He tries again.

And again and again.

After failed call number seven, he gives up on calling and taps out a text, not even caring if he’s woken the other up. Frantically, he sends the message:

(You): we need to talk

He watches the loading bar fill out, indicating it’s been sent, then waits. The seconds it takes for the message to go from “sent” to “read” are excruciating. 

“ Hongjoong💖 is typing…”

Hwa’s heart flips in his chest when he reads the prompt. He feels pathetic for never changing the other’s contact name, but there’s so much more going on in his head that he doesn’t bother doing it. Instead, he watches the dancing little dots in the message window like a hawk. After a minute that feels like twenty, a response pops up.

Hongjoong💖: i’m sorry about earlier in the library

Hongjoong💖 : i tried to get out as fast as possible

Hongjoong💖: bumping into yunho was an honest accident

Hongjoong💖 : i promise i didn’t say anything other than a polite greeting

Hongjoong💖 : i want you to know i have been doing research and exploring options to address my mental health

Hongjoong💖 : i promise to stay away from you and the guys

Hongjoong💖 : once again i apologize for everything, please know i intend no harm on you or your loved ones

Seonghwa huffs annoyedly. How is the other such a damn fast texter? His heart dips into his stomach reading the messages. Before the deferent show of fear would’ve probably made him ecstatic. But now, he just feels sort of like a jerk. Did he really seem that threatening last time they talked? He responds.

(You): this isn’t about that

Hongjoong💖 is typing…

(You): i think i believe you

(You): about neverland

(You): about everything

(You): we need to talk

The “ Hongjoong💖 is typing” prompt disappears.

Seonghwa waits. He waits and waits. He keeps his phone open on the message window for five minutes, then ten. He half expects to hear a knock on the door, but after near an hour, he gives up. The little note under his last sent message taunts him:

“Read ✓”.

The blond curses before throwing himself back onto his bed. Why is he being difficult now? After everything they’ve gone through - which is a lot more than Hwa originally knew - one would think he’d be willing to talk.

Seonghwa falls asleep quickly. One moment, his head’s on his pillow and he’s worrying about Hongjoong and his memories. The next, he’s fast asleep. 

This time, he doesn’t dream.

Seonghwa shakes his umbrella out a few times before entering his dorm. Mother nature is apparently just as depressed as he is, and her coping mechanism is pouring every last tear she’s got onto the poor humans below. The dreary weather does nothing to help the perpetual headache straining at Seonghwa’s temples. It contributes to the overall achey pain weighing his limbs down and dulling his mind. Even though he’s attended all of his classes per usual, he feels as if he's retained nothing. It’s draining, and even though he should be studying, Seonghwa’s already set on taking a nap. He can’t wait to shed his damp outer layers and throw himself under his dry, warm blankets.

The blond drags himself up the steps and across the hall. His room is finally in sight when something in the distance catches his eye. The splotch of red in his peripherals sends him into a frenzy. Without even thinking, Hwa bolts to his room. He throws his bookbag and wet boots off before searching his desk frantically. He grabs his old journal and throws on dry sandals before jumping back out his door. Luckily, the splotch of red is still present, ambling slowly down the hall with his eyes on his phone.

Something (maybe the sound of Hwa breathing heavily, or his entirely too fast footsteps) prompts Hongjoong to turn around. His eyes go wide when they meet Seonghwa’s, and he turns around picking up into a fast walk. Hwa throws his hands up in exasperation and follows at the other’s heels.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says. All he gets in response is a faster walking pace from the other. “Wh- Hongjoong,” Hwa tries again. No response. “Hey, you don’t have to run away from me. I just want to tal-”

Hongjoong breaks out into an almost comical power-walk. Any faster and he’d actually be running from Seonghwa. Not eager to literally chase the other down, Seonghwa trots toward the other and grabs him by the hood of his sweatshirt. He yanks with more force than intended, and the redhead lets out a choking sound as he lurches back. 

“I just want to talk,” Seonghwa says insistently, forcing the other to look him in the eye. Hongjoong shrinks beneath the other’s insistence. He tries to back away, but his back hits a wall.

“I said I was sorry,” Hongjoong responds in a strained tone. His pupils flit around, and he fiddles with the hem of his hoodie as he speaks. “But if you need to hear it again, I’m sorry.”

“That isn’t what I’m asking for!” Seonghwa throws his hands up in exasperation. The other cowers from the big gesture, actually flinching as if he’s afraid he’ll get hit. Seonghwa’s heart dips, and he takes a few steadying breaths. He just chased the other down in the hall and grabbed him, of course Hongjoong thinks he’s ready to beat him up. In truth, Hwa still isn’t a hundred percent certain he shouldn’t beat Hongjoong up. That’s why he called out for him in the first place. He needs some type of clarity. Answers.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Hwa elaborates more calmly, “Hongjoong I want to talk.”

“About what-?”

“Just- Just let me finish. I want to hear your side of the story. About-” He lowers his voice to a whisper, “-about Neverland. The lost boys. Everything.”

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything. His gaze is turned pointedly to the ground. After a pregnant pause, he responds:

“Why now?” The question comes out low and quivering. He picks his gaze up off the ground and returns it to Seonghwa’s own. More confidently, he repeats the question, “Why now? What changed?”

Seonghwa sighs. Anxiousness fizzles in his chest, sparks discharging into his throat and stomach as he turns to a page in his old journal. He hands it over to Hongjoong without a word. The redhead takes it, initially baffled. He eyes the page, and realization visibly dawns on him. His tight, tense expression loosens into one of curiosity, then wonder, until finally settling on scarcely suppressed amusement. 

“Nice drawing,” Hongjoong ventures the joke. “Looks familiar.”

“It’s mine,” Seonghwa tells the other. “From about a decade ago. Go ahead, you can read the entries if you like. I bet some of that stuff will sound familiar.” 

Hongjoong obliges the other and nods. He turns a few pages, the edges of his lips twitching with an almost-there smile. The redhead hands the journal back and gnaws on his lower lip a few more moments before finally giving his answer:

“Okay,” Hongjoong says in a low voice. “I’ll talk.”

“Just- Just know it doesn’t change anything,” Seonghwa adds out impulsively. It’s not like things are just going to go back to the way they were. Not that he wants that. Because he doesn’t. He just needs answers is all. That’s a point he stresses when his eyes settle on the other’s pink, plush lower lip. He tears them away and coughs out more words. “This- This doesn’t mean I, like, totally believe everything you’ve said or trust you.”

“Right,” Hongjoong replies flatly.

“Is my room okay?” Seonghwa asks. “Figure it’s private.”

“That’s fine. I was just gonna get food, but it’s really not urgent.”

“Yeah. Just, um, could you… Could you bring that thing with you?”

“That thing?” Hongjoong’s brows raise inquisitively.

“The notebook.”

“Oh- Uh, sure. I’ll be, uh, right there,” The redhead distractedly strides off to his room, and Seonghwa returns to his own. He rushes to do some rapid fire tidying, properly stowing his carelessly thrown things and clearing off space on the egg chair for Hongjoong. Minutes later, a soft knock comes through the door, and Seonghwa almost wipes out when he dashes over to answer it.

The redhead enters, a bundle of nerves. He fidgets with the frayed papers sticking out of his notebook as he walks in. Seonghwa watches the other carefully. He sees the other’s eyes fall on the egg chair, then the bed. An invasive memory of things they’d done on that bed flashes through Seonghwa’s mind. He blinks rapidly to clear it, willing the heat rising to his cheeks to dissipate.

Hongjoong opts to remain standing. He leans against the wall by Seonghwa’s closet, clutching his notebook as if it’s a security blanket.

“So,” Hongjoong breaths out, “What, um, what did you want to-”

“Who are you?” Seonghwa blurts out. He couldn’t hold it in much longer. He’d come to know so much about Hongjoong yet none of it made sense, none of it told him who Kim Hongjoong really is.

“Uh, I’m- I’m just me, really. I’m not trying to decieve you.”

“Are you human?”

“I- What?”

“Or are you a changeling? A- A fairy-”

“Whoa- what? Seonghwa, are you-”

“No, you’re right. That’s stupid. How old are you?”

“I- Wh- I’m- College age,” Hongjoong sputters out, his ears tinting the same red as his hair.

“Were you ever gonna tell me that you’re older than me or was that detail just gonna stay hidden?”

“Ex-Excuse me?”

“Why are you older than me, though?” Seonghwa asks.

“I- Why? Did you just ask me why I’m my age?”

“Where is Neverland, anyway?” The questions keep pouring out one after the other indiscriminately. Hwa can’t stop himself. Everything that’s been torturing him for the past few weeks, everything he’d kept bottled up, just pours out.

“I- Seonghwa, I don’t exactly know.”

“How did you find it?”

“I didn’t find it by myself. I was guided there.”

“By who?”

“His name is- er, was Maddox.”

“Was he a fairy?”

“Uh-”

“Have I been to Neverland?”

“W-Well, yea-”

“Did we meet there?”

“Um, no-”

“How did you find Neverland?”

“I told you-”

“Where did you come from?”

“Huh?”

“And who are the lost boys?”

“I- I don’t exaclty remember them.”

“What?!” Seonghwa gawks. “How? In all your notes and everything you don’t remember who we hung out with that entire time?”

“I- Wait,” Hongjoong takes a pause, “Hold up are you… You said ‘we hung out with’, so… You do remember-” His voice gets small and timid as he squeaks out the question, “-you remember Neverland?”

“Of course I remember Neverland!” Seonghwa snaps. His eyes blow wide open and clamps his hand over his mouth. “I mean- I- I mean, I… I don’t know, okay? I remember… Something.”

“You remember something?” Hongjoong quirks an eyebrow. He remains firmly fastened to the wall, a tense coil of curiosity and nerves.

Seonghwa’s shoulders slump, and he lets out a loud breath, “I… I don’t know, okay? That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Wh- How can I tell you what you’re remembering?”

“I- I don’t know, okay. You just seem like sort of the expert since you’ve been obsessively researching the topic - and me - for years.”

“So? You told me yourself that you’re not sure you even believe me. So why bother? I mean- If I tell you my side of the story, are you gonna trust me, or are you just gonna pull a restraining order on me?” Hongjoong responds bitterly.

“If I promise not to call the police on you, then will you tell me?”

“ Wow ,” The redhead huffs out. “That is so missing the point. You know what, just, um, just keep thinking I’m crazy.” He shakes his head and starts heading toward the door. “I don’t know why I bothered...”

“Wait-!” Seonghwa lunges after the other. “Wait, wait, wait, wait-” He yanks Hongjoong by the back of his sweatshirt again. “Wait, Hongjoong, please, just- I’m- I’m confused, okay?”

“So, what?” When the redhead turns around, he’s face to face with Seonghwa. The two are close, and the proximity sends a jolt of unease through Hwa’s spine. The other’s eyes look wet, and his lip quivers slightly - a vast contrast to his adamant words, “You wanna interrogate me so you can sleep easier at night? Get whatever answers satisfy you then just throw me away again?” He huffs. “I don’t think so. You’re confused? Too bad. That’s not my problem.”

Seonghwa feels like he’s going crazy. No, he thinks to himself: he is going crazy. Actually, not going crazy. He’s just gone crazy. The frat boy cosplay should’ve been the flashing neon sign pointing him to that fact, but his impetuous mind somehow managed to gloss over that. War wages between his logical self and his emotional self. They battle it out with the goal of determining once and for all: what is real and what is just fairytales? The cogs in his head grind together as he attempts to properly word his thoughts. He takes a deep breath and combs through the tangled mess of his memories. Hongjoong’s hand is on the door handle when Seonghwa answers:

“From what I recall, you were the one who threw me away,” Seonghwa says, his voice just a low hum.

Hongjoong’s hand drops off of the handle, “What did you say?” He asks without turning toward the other.

“I- I remember that. I think I do, anyway,” Seonghwa responds. “It feels too real not to be a memory.”

“What does?”

“You kicked me out,” Seonghwa replies. Just mentioning it drags up the wretched emotions associated with the memory once more. “You told me I had to leave. I- I remembered that the day I called you, like, seven times. Um, a few days ago. You… You told me I wasn’t welcome anymore, but you never said why.”

When the redhead turns around, the color’s drained from his face.  His mouth is pressed into a thin line. Without another word, he passes Seonghwa in the narrow hall and settles back into his spot on the wall.

“What do you want to know?” The redhead asks.

Seonghwa blinks confusedly for a second before following the other back into his room, “I- I want to know everything. I apologize if I sounded combative before, I just- like I said I’m confused. I- I don’t know what’s real or what isn’t anymore. And now I- I’m wondering just how much I’ve forgotten.”

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong replies quietly. “I’ve been there.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, um, sort of. Look, I can answer your questions, but I think it might be easier if I just… Start from the beginning and tell you everything I know.”

“Right,” Hwa nods. “Um, why don’t you just, yeah, just tell me your perspective, then.” He hops onto his bed and takes a seat, crossing his arms in front of himself tight. An amalgamation of worries and nerves wriggle in his gut unnervingly. He tries to ignore the coiling sensation and let the other say his piece.

Hongjoong takes a deep breath and nods, “Okay. Okay I can do that, but please, promise me you’re not gonna just- just throw me out halfway through because it sounds ridiculous, okay?”

“I promise.”

“Thanks,” Hongjoong nods. He tucks his thumb under the pages of his notebook and runs it up the wad of paper slowly. He watches the pages fall rapidly as if he was watching a flip book animate. The nonsense gesture apparently calmed him, because when he starts talking again, he’s much more composed. Coolly, he starts:

“Not to sound corny, but honestly - it all started when I was born,” The redhead flips to a page in his notebook and tosse it onto the bed next to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa raises an inquisitve eyebrow at the other. Hongjoong nods, giving a nonverbal go ahead, and Hwa glances at the open page. A single picture sits right in the middle, affixed to the page with yellowed tape. It’s obviously old, a grainy image developed from the film cameras of yore. A woman with a squinty eye smile beams at the camera. In her lap sits a newborn infant, and she hugs the baby close. A blur of deep red hair just barely peeks out from the edge of the frame. Hwa studies the infant more closely, and raises his brows.

“This is you?” Seonghwa asks.

“Yup,” Hongjoong replies.

“And your mother.”

“Yup.”

“You two look beautiful,” Seonghwa says. She genuinely does. He’s not super sentimental usually, but there’s something about a young mother that just strikes him as captivating. “Happy, too. She’s got a really pretty, big smile.”

“Yeah, probably because she was tweaking,” Hongjoong replies with venom in his voice.

“Oh,” Seonghwa grunts dumbly. The blunt comment knocked the wind out of his lungs; he wasn’t prepared at all to hear that.

Hongjoong picks up where he left off, “It’s a nice picture, though, isn’t it?” He lets out a completely humorless laugh. “You even catch a glimpse of my dad. Now that’s rare .” 

Seonghwa glances at the picture again. The tiny sliver of pink-toned flesh and rust red hair - is that him?

“He ran off real quick after that,” Hongjoong continues bitterly. “All he left was a funny last name. No note, no explanation that I know of. Not even a sock or as shirt. Just a lame last name that my mother decided she wanted me to have. Pan.”

The puzzle piece slots in perfectly, and Seonghwa gasps at the discovery. That alone explains so much. The issues in elementary, the strange last name. He doesn’t dare interrupt the other to inform him of his stalking, though. Instead, Hwa nods politely, urging the other to continue.

Hongjoong moves along, “It was just mom and me for, um, for awhile. I…” His eyes get a faraway look in them, and his lips turn down at the edges. “Looking back, I think she did love me, but just- just not as much as she loved a good high. Heroin was her drug of choice. She liked to snort it. Used to tell me it was sugar.” His tone lifts up as if in amusement, but there’s an abysmal hollowness in his eyes that says otherwise. Hearing the tale drives a dagger into Seonghwa’s heart. He probably wouldn’t believe it if he hadn’t actually read everything for himself.

“You know,” Hongjoong adds bemusedly. “Fun fact, a not-so-common street name for heroin is ‘fairy dust’- Heh. Isn’t that something?” He shakes his head, acidity radiating off of him in an almost palpable aura.

“Fun facts aside,” The redhead continues, “Her hobby got her a lot of friends. Mom was popular, and, like I get it. My mom was cute and she was always very welcoming, I guess. I dunno. She had a lot of ‘friends’. A lot of boyfriends. They came by the house all the time. Sometimes they lived with us,” He shrugs. “By the time I could walk to school myself, I was basically left to my own devices. She’d be in the living room, hanging out with her, uh, friends. I’d get put upstairs. ‘Don’t come down if there isn’t blood’, she’d say. Some of her friends were nice. Some I knew for years. Others… Not so much. I- I promise there’s a point to this, I’m not just dumping my childhood stuff on you for a reason.”

Seonghwa shakes his head vigorously, “No, no say- say what you think is necessary.” He doesn’t want to admit that, for some odd reason, he’s drinking this up. Hongjoong has him in a vice, locking his attention in further with every word he says. It’s not that Seonghwa likes hearing about this. On the contrary, it makes him severely uncomfortable on so many levels. It wounds him to hear that someone he cared (or perhaps still cares) about went through so much shit. It also forces him to confront the fact that he didn’t have to grow up in a situation like that. He starts thinking of all the nice things he had growing up that he’d taken for granted. Suddenly, his mom’s habit of checking on him in his sleep makes him fond instead of weirded out. Just as he considers sending her flowers as a surprise the redhead resumes his story.

“Thanks,” Hongjoong says softly. The overt tensity surrounding him slackens a little more. It soothes Seonghwa slightly to watch the other relax - even if just a little bit. It’s not as if he wants the other to be too relaxed. He’s just glad Hongjoong doesn’t look like he’s holding his breath and is bound to pass out at any second.

The redhead picks up where he left off, “But, um, yeah, so my mom- and her friends. They were- It was a thing. Some of them were cool, actually. One of her friends was a hair stylist- she got me set up with the red hair. Mom hated it, said it reminded her of my father. So, of course being the shit I am, I insisted on keeping it. This- this one boyfriend she had actually got me a game system for Christmas one year. I was sad to see him go. Um, others, though, others weren’t so nice. She didn’t seem to care either way, though. As long as she got her stuff, she was good.

“Sometimes, I, um, I wonder if the reason I could talk to fairies was because she was using while she was pregnant with me,” He lets out another airy, dry chuckle. “The first time I ran away was around… Five I think. Maybe six. Didn’t get too far, obviously. I walked to the, uh, the corner store. I just remember I had it set in my head I’d get a popsicle, and I’d be set. Just live a new life.”

Seonghwa grips his sheets tightly. His knuckles go white as he anchors himself to the bed. It’s the only way he can stop himself from throwing himself at the other and hugging him. He nods at the other - a gentle reassurance that he’s still listening.

Hongjoong nods and keeps talking, “I, um, I ran away a few times after that. I got better. Got sneakier. A lot sneakier. Started disappearing for longer periods of time. I’d say I was going to school then just… Walk in a direction. Of course, every time I got home my mom would be a sobbing mess, all apologetic and pissy. If I was lucky, the boyfriend of the week would let her handle it, if not, he handled it. 

“After awhile, CPS caught on, though. I was eight, and the fuckers finally thought: gee, this kid leaves home a lot. Wonder what’s up with that. They took me away and my sweet, naive little self thought that was it. I’d be free and happy at the group home with a bunch of other kids. Boy was I wrong.”

He gets quiet for a minute. Seonghwa lets the silence sit in the air. He can tell by the way the other holds himself tight that he’s struggling. This isn’t nearly as easy as he’s trying to make it look.

“I was shocked to learn that it was worse,” Hongjoong adds after taking a pause. “I mean, some parts of it were better, but I just-” He shakes his head. “-no. I felt so… Abandoned and lost. The other kids varied- as humans do. Some were nice, some weren’t. Some were just as mean as I imagine their parents were. So, I ran away from there, too. Did that a few times. Got reprimanded. Got told that a kid my age behaving the way I do is never gonna get adopted. That I’ll always be a screw up, I’ll end up like my mother. Because, you know, that’s totally fine to tell an eight year old.

“Then, one day, age eleven, I did it again. To be honest, I…” He takes a deep, shaky breath, “I didn’t wanna return. Not- not to the group home, I just- I didn’t want to-” He chokes up, and Seonghwa stops breathing.” The redhead coughs loudly, “Anyway. I ran away at age eleven, but that time was different, because when I left that day, I never came back.”

Seonghwa’s eyes go wide, and he whispers, “Neverland.”

Hongjoong nods, “Yeah, this is where it gets sort of hard to believe- as if my pathetically cliche tragic childhood wasn’t hard enough to believe. See, I did my thing where I, like, run away. I- I always made it a game. I’d dodge people, go into alleyways, duck into ditches- it made me feel like, like a secret agent or something. I don’t know.

“And this one day I end up getting really far out, walking through a few backyards until I end up in some sort of wodded area. That is when I run into a little twinkley thing I think is a bug at the time. It’s the middle of the day, so seeing a lightning bug, like, blew my mind. Turns out fairies don’t take kindly to being called bugs.

“A little guy named Maddox gave me an earful of colorful expletives when I trapped him in my hands. I… I don’t know why, or what it was about me, about him, but Maddox said I had magic in me. He told me he knew of a place for kids like me. A beautiful land full of magic and wonder. He told me the land provided all anyone could need: food, water, shelter, adventure - and we’d never grow up.

“You’d think an eleven year old would be over fairytales, right?” Hongjoong shakes his head and scrunches his nose. “Not me, though. I had given up on the real world already. Figured a world full of magic couldn’t be much worse. So, I followed him. He sprinkled fairy dust on me and showed me the way. I… I never looked back after that.”

Hongjoong begins to thaw as he recounts his early impressions of Neverland, “I- I remember being so nervous about flying at first. Maddox was so nice to show me the ropes, and soon I was a pro. Nobody could beat me.”

“I know,” Seonghwa adds. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows.

The comment makes Hongjoong stop for a second. The redhead studies Hwa up and down, and he presses his lips together as if biting something back - a remark perhaps? A smile? Seonghwa doesn’t know. He stays silent, allowing the other to elaborate.

“Neverland was everything ,” Hongjoong sighs happily. “It truly provided everything I needed. Beautiful, fresh waterfalls and a lush forest full of fruit trees. The beaches had sand so soft, it was like walking on a pillow. It was a no-brainer. I decided that Neverland was my home. The tribe welcomed me with open arms, even helping me find somewhere to call my own.

“I had everything. Everything except friends. The people of the tribe were kind, but they weren’t my people. After awhile on my own, I talked to Maddox, and he informed me I could go back to the place I used to be. So, I did. I thought maybe watching people would kind of sate the low key homesickness I had. What I found instead was… Other boys. Boys like me who, in some way or another, were forgotten. They were unwanted, rejected, bullied, neglected. Lost. I recruited him much like Maddox did me. We played and embarked on glorious adventures. Battled some pirates, hunted for treasure - you know. All that good stuff.

“And then, one day my shadow let loose,” Hongjoong looks down at his feet. The recessed light in Hwa’s room paints a splotch of dark underneath the redhead. “The pest just detached itself and ran off on me. It slipped in through some kid’s cracked window. Maddox chased after it, but he got, like, stuck in a drawer. So, of course I had to go in myself after it.

“Slipped into this kid’s room to nab my shadow only to find that the kid was wide awake. Staring me right in the face was none other than a young Park Seonghwa,” Hongjoong gestures to Seonghwa. “You helped me wrangle my shadow and, of course, that meant you were good people. I invited you to come to Neverland, and you did. Does… Any of this ring bells?”

Seonghwa searches his memory. He strains himself trying to will the images to come to mind. All he gets are blurred insinuations. The image of a shadow flitting around his childhood bedroom briefly pops up, but it dissolves far too quick for him to make sense of it. Though his own recollection fails him, hearing the story does inspire a sort of deja vu. 

“I can’t say I do remember, exactly,” The blond concedes. “But that’s not to say I don’t totally believe it, either,” He adds.

Hongjoong shrugs, “I- I didn’t think you would. But, um, yeah we went on like, tons of little adventures and stuff. Fought those dumbass pirates almost every other day. Nearly got drowned by mermaids. Partied with the tribe, flew through the sky… It was a beautiful life for a few years. We had fun, all of us. You… You were very important to me back then. To us.”

“But you… You kicked me out,” Seonghwa remarks. “That is the one thing I can remember crystal clear. You were pretty adamant about me leaving, though you never told me why.”

Hongjoong heaves a sigh, and his gaze drops to the floor, “Neverland had rules, Seonghwa.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“You had to be a good soul to reside there - save for the pirates. Don’t know how they managed to slip through.”

“Was I not a good soul?”

“You had to believe in magic.”

“I- I’m sure I did at the time.”

“And- and you could never grow up.”

“Wh- What was I? Twelve? Thirteen? That’s hardly grown up.”

“Yeah, it’s- it was stupid, I know-”

“I think there’s something more to it,” Seonghwa says defiantly. He hops off of his bed to get closer to the other. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Seonghwa, I- One of the rules was- was broken or something, so- so you couldn’t be there,” Hongjoong replies nervously. His pupils dance around the room, and he keeps nibbling his lower lip.

“Hongjoong, I- I barely remember anything about Neverland, and the one thing I do - the one thing I can see so clearly - is that moment. The moment you- you kicked me out. It’s not just what happened, either, but I- I can feel how I felt. It’s like I’m reliving it every time I dream of that.”

“I’m- I’m sorry to hear that, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong responds stiffly. “It wasn’t easy seeing you go.”

“You were miserable, too,” Seonghwa replies honestly. “I know you were. I could tell by looking at you. And I just- I don’t know what was going on but just- just judging by how much it hurt- it wasn’t just because I grew up. I mean- Was I even thirteen then? You personally, like, banished me for- for what?”

“I…” Hongjoong pauses. He braves a gaze into Seonghwa’s eyes, and what Seonghwa finds beneath those eyes surprises him. It’s not adamance or anger. It’s guilt and grief. “I never said you broke a rule, Seonghwa.”

“I didn- Wait, what?”

The redhead wrings a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath to fortify himself before explaining.

“Seonghwa, I- I had a stupid crush on you,” Hongjoong’s voice is puny, laced with so much guilt and shame. “I… I was… As in- in love with you as an eleven year old who’d been eleven for- for three years at the time could possibly be.” His face flushes, and he covers it, disgraced with himself. “I’m sorry.”

“I- Wait you- you what?” Seonghwa’s brain ceases function. He heard “I” and “love” and “you” come out of Hongjoong’s mouth. The word combination coming from the redhead renders him braindead for a few minutes, which allows Hongjoong to give better reasoning.

Uncovering his face, the redhead admits, “I had the biggest crush on you, Seonghwa. I was just… Head over heels for you, and I- that scared me!” He lets out a humorless laugh. “That scared me so much because- because crushes and love were for grown ups. And if I- if I felt that way about someone, that meant that I was growing up, that I was breaking a rule. And- and then I’d get taken out of another home. The- the only home I felt safe and loved in. I just… I couldn’t cope with that.” His voice thickens, and tears well up in his eyes, “So- so in my stupid, idiotic kid head, I thought it was simple. No Seonghwa, no feelings-” He sniffs loudly, averting his gaze from Seonghwa’s. “I really thought that was it. So I threw you out. I never talked to you about it. Never even gave you a chance for a decent goodbye. I gave up on you, on our friendship, on what- what maybe could’ve been. Y’know. As far as, uh, kid romance goes anyway.” He forces out a breathy laugh.

“So, um, yeah I owe you an apology for that,” Hongjoong says resolutely. “Seonghwa I am very, very sorry for throwing you out so suddenly and never talking to you about it.”

Seonghwa frowns. Strangely enough, part of him feels vindicated. He supposes that, deep down, he’d been waiting for that apology for a long time. 

“I… I forgive you for that,” Seonghwa says, giving the other a weak smile. “You had your reasons.”

“My reasons were selfish. I just- I was so afraid of losing Neverland. I lost someone who I called my best friend once upon a time. Oh, and I’m here, so-” Hongjoong waves to himself. “You can see how well that all worked out for me.”

“Hongjoong, what happened?” Seonghwa asks. At this point he’s more genuinely curious than anything else. He feels as if most his questions have been answered - at least the ones Hongjoong can answer. There’s still the matter of why he stalked Seonghwa, but Hwa assumes that’ll come up. Being in the other’s presence has softened Seonghwa’s impression of him considerably. Hongjoong doesn’t strike him as manic or undone - just desperate. Hwa broke into a highschool archives room in a fit of desperation. At this point, he thinks it hypocritical to villainize Hongjoong for doing the same after years of trauma.

“Well,” Hongjoong replies, “I was wrong. When you left, I- I don’t know why or how, but, everything just got worse. I couldn’t stop wondering why Neverland would have such strict rules, and, I guess that made my belief in the magic dwindle. I sort of became unbearable, lashing out at the lost boys who I thought of as brothers. I was pretty nasty, and I successfully pushed a couple away for good.