Archive of Our Own

His back aches. It’s this chair, one of the oldest in the office. It bends in just the wrong places and the seat is harder than the floor. And his wrist hurts from all the typing, sending out emails to people who will only scan over them, give a cursory look to his day’s work. All the organizing, send this to the agency, call the designers about that graphic.

He glances up at the clock, an hour and a half until closing. Mirae’s after school program must be starting around now. Mirae’s after school program that she hates, that makes her nervous because none of her friends stay for it. She cried the first day. His wrist throbs, strained from the repetitive movement all day, every day. Maybe he’ll develop carpal tunnel before he turns thirty. Maybe Mirae will develop some severe anxiety disorder because her dad leaves her at school for almost two extra hours every day. Maybe he’s a bad dad.

His arm jerks across the desk and now all his paperwork has fallen to the floor. He can’t breathe; his eyes burn. Things are spinning and he scrambles to the floor to pick up his papers. The intern is staring at him and his damn wrist is shaking. Why can’t he breathe? Why are they looking ? Why are they peering over their desks to look at him?

Soft footsteps come closer every second and someone leans down, the new hire. He searches his brain for his name, but it’s not coming. He really should know the name of the new employee. Really should make an effort to get to know more of his coworkers.

“Doyoung-ssi? Are you okay?” He speaks so softly.

Doyoung levels out his breathing and collects the last few sheets of paper from the floor. “Yes, thank you. I’m fine.” His voice sounds watery and weak, even to him.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.” He can’t look the new hire in the eyes. How mortifying , to make a scene like this at work.

“My sister has panic attacks sometimes. I’m very helpful with them. I’ll get you something to drink.”

“I’m not having a panic attack,” he protests, but the new hire is already on his way to the vending machines. Doyoung sits back in his horrible chair and rubs his neck, brings his hand to his heart and feels it pounding. He wonders distantly if Mirae felt like this the first day of her program.

“Here, Doyoung-ssi. I just got a bottle of water because I’m not sure what you like. My sister likes pineapple juice, but I think that’s because she’s a lesbian.”

“What?”

“Nevermind,” he says. Doyoung finally looks at him. He’s young, one of the few younger than Doyoung. He looks sweet, and his face matches his voice, kind of soft. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Doyoung goes to answer but his throat closes up, unexpectedly choked. He blinks as quickly as he can, dispersing the tears gathering in his eyes. Nothing even happened .

“Do you want to go home?”

“I have at least an hour left.” Doyoung’s voice is small, he can hear the fragility.

“Well, boss couldn’t keep you here if you were ill, right?”

“I’m not.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“I don’t have very many sick days.”

“It’s one hour. I’ll talk to him for you, if you want?”

Doyoung looks up at him from his ancient company chair and nods slowly. “I’ll tell him, and then I’ll walk you to the train. Okay?” Doyoung nods again and leafs through his papers, putting them back in order. He’ll take them home and finish his work there and be back tomorrow like nothing ever happened.

Only a few minutes pass before he comes back, smiling brightly. Doyoung wants to smile back as a thank you, but his lips keep knitting down. “He said he didn’t know we were friends,” he says, laughing. “But now I’m off for this last hour to walk you home. Friend.”

There are many things Doyoung should say. A ‘thank you’ is the first item on the list. But instead of that or any of the other things that might communicate how deeply thankful he is, he goes with, “I’m so sorry, but I can’t remember your name.”

“Oh, I’m Jungwoo.”

“Jungwoo,” Doyoung repeats, trying the name out.

“Should we go?” Jungwoo asks, pulling on his coat. He has an acrylic Snoopy pin on one of the lapels. Doyoung nods and follows him out of the heavy glass doors at the front of the building, pulling his own coat tighter around himself once the cold air hits.

They walk in silence for a moment. Usually in the winter, it’s already dark by the time Doyoung leaves the office. Now, the light is just beginning to fade and the sky is a muted polaroid blue. His thoughts weave among the colors of the city and the jagged spires of stress from work, settling on Mirae. “I have a daughter. She’s five.”

“What’s her name?” Jungwoo asks, immediately interested.

Doyoung keeps his gaze focused forward, worried that looking at Jungwoo will make him lose his nerve in explaining. “Mirae.”

“Ah, what a pretty name.”

“It’s just the two of us. She stays at an after school program because I can’t pick her up when school normally ends and she’s too little to go home by herself.” His eyes sting again. “I don’t really get to see her much.”

Jungwoo doesn’t say anything, but he presses his arm into Doyoung’s. Huffs, and then, softly, “That sounds really difficult.”

“It is.” He pauses, collects himself. “I don’t do ‘dad’ things for her enough. I can’t even cook. We eat a lot of takeout.” He tries to smile, pass it off as a sort of joke. The air still feels sharp, though. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Jungwoo.

“Are you going to pick her up now?”

“Yeah.”

“I can cook. Like, I make dinner all the time.”

“Okay…?”

“I know you don’t really know me,” he starts. “But I could make dinner for you and Mirae tonight. Since it seems like you’re stressed, and I think it would be a nice surprise for her, yeah?”

Doyoung stops walking. Even though no one else is on the path, he steps to the side and comes to rest under a small tree, one of the many planted at intervals to make the city seem less sterile. “Jungwoo, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“I want to, though. You seem like you need it. I promise my food is delicious.” He smiles widely and clasps his hands in front of his heart. Doyoung can’t help but think that someone like this shouldn’t have to spend all day in an office building.

“Jungwoo, you have your own evening. You can go home and do whatever-”

“If you really don’t want me to, I won’t. But if you do , don’t hesitate to say so.”

Despite everything, Doyoung does hesitate. It’s ridiculous to even entertain the offer. How terrible would it be for him to hijack Jungwoo’s evening like this and have him cook for a family he doesn’t even know? But the thought of a real meal, something warm from the stove and not a restaurant fryer, draws him in. “Okay.”

“Really? Okay?” Jungwoo asks excitedly. “Alright!”

The rest of the walk to the metro stop passes in light conversation under the darkening sky. Jungwoo tells him about his family, his interests, and the spider he killed without his roommate’s help last week. His speech is animated, his hands waving everywhere, his eyes wide. Doyoung forgets about emails and phone calls for once.

“Your roommate, he usually kills all the spiders?”

“Well, not because he’s braver or anything! He just usually is ready to go with a shoe in hand. I have to get in the right mindset,” Jungwoo jokes. “It’s heavy stuff, to take a life.”

“A spider life,” Doyoung presses, leading Jungwoo toward the platform he takes to Mirae’s school.

“I bet Mirae kills the spiders in your house.”

Doyoung laughs in surprise. The cold air chills his teeth, but it’s too wonderful to have a reason to smile for him to care. “I have never before heard such slander. Don’t insult your elders! Especially if you’re coming to their home.”

“Of course, ahjussi.”

“ Ahjussi? I’m about to cancel the dinner. Mirae and I will eat instant ramen.”

“Ah, Doyoung-ssi, I’m just kidding!”

Doyoung waits for the quiet after the train comes to a stop to say, “You can call me hyung.” Jungwoo beams at him and Doyoung notices his Snoopy pin has turned upside down. He reaches out to correct it before he overthinks and Jungwoo flashes him a thumbs up.

“So,” Jungwoo starts as he steps onto the train. “What food do you have? I’m sure I’ll be able to make something with whatever’s in your kitchen.”

“This will sound ridiculous.”

“I’m listening.”

“I don’t know what’s in my pantry right now.”

Jungwoo smiles and reaches up to the bar running along the roof of the car. “I like surprises. We’ll just have to see.”

His smile is bright, not unlike the sun that shines through the office windows around noon and warms Doyoung’s desk. It’s always that sun that reminds him about the world outside waiting for him, no matter what. No matter how long he sits behind a computer or how often he smiles tightly and accepts extra paperwork. The sun reminds him of the life he has.

“Thank you, by the way, for checking on me.”

“Of course.”

“And for offering to help out tonight. I really can’t stress how kind it is of you, and-”

“You don’t have to. Trust me, I’m acting for purely selfish reasons.”

Doyoung pauses, waiting for an explanation. It seems an insurmountable challenge for him to think of anything more selfless anyone has done for him in months, so Jungwoo must be joking again. He almost begins to worry he’s missed a cue to laugh when Jungwoo continues.

“Living with Sicheng is really fun, but I think I’m lonely,” he explains, voice still light like there’s a joke hidden somewhere. “And you seem cool.”

“I seem cool ? Are you sure?” Jungwoo laughs and brings his hand up to his mouth to cover the smile. Doyoung adds, “Can I get a recording of you saying that? I know several people who would be interested to know that someone thinks so.”

“You do, hyung. You always wear suits.”

“We work in an office, Jungwoo.”

“No, listen! You have one of those travel coffee mugs like a real adult!”

Doyoung leans in experimentally, dropping his voice. “Do you want to know a secret?” Jungwoo bristles and widens his eyes like a cartoon character. “The only coffee I drink is sugary caramel stuff with whipped cream. I put water in the mug. I’m not nearly as adult as I seem.”

“Would you let Mirae drink sugary caramel coffee?”

“No way, it’s sweet poison. I’m gonna die before I’m fifty because of it.”

“You’re a good dad,” Jungwoo whispers. It’s almost too quiet for Doyoung to hear over the sound of the train. His eyes sting suddenly and he leans back, throat thick with something again. So fragile today. Jungwoo eyes him and Doyoung drops his eyes so he won’t see their shine, doesn’t want him to worry. The pin is upside down again.

“You like my Snoopy pin, hyung.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Where did you get it?”

“A boy gave it to me, Lucas. In my third year of college.”

“Oh. It’s cute.” Doyoung wishes the train would hurry so they could get back out in the air. Jungwoo didn’t look at him so closely when they were walking.

“Yeah, I love Snoopy. A lot of my friends gave me little Peanuts things as gifts. I have a plushie on my bookshelf at home.”

“Do you still talk to Lucas?” Jungwoo looks thrown off, and Doyoung immediately adds, “You said you felt lonely. Do you still talk to your college friends?”

“Yes,” Jungwoo answers, eyes a little far away like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I talk to a lot of them. We’re not quite as close. Lucas and I were really close before, but it’s different now. Not bad, obviously, just different.”

“Your roommate…”

“Sicheng,” Jungwoo supplies.

“Yes, Sicheng. Do you spend a lot of time together?”

“We’re good, but he’s busy. He spends a lot of time with his boyfriend, so he’s not usually home during meals and things like that.”

“I see,” Doyoung hums. The train lurches to a stop and they make their way off the platform and begin walking to Mirae’s school. Doyoung wishes he had a scarf to keep the wind from his cheeks.

The school is mostly nondescript, save the green and pink sign out front. Doyoung leads Jungwoo around to the side to the after school program’s pick-up area. “I feel like I should warn you, Mirae can get kind of… nervous around strangers. She can be a little bit bratty when meeting new people, I know because one of my more honest friends told me once, but she’s so sweet, really. And I’m sure you’ll get along if you give each other time.”

“Doyoung-hyung, you don’t have to defend your daughter to me,” Jungwoo laughs. “I’ll give her time.”

“Okay.” He takes a breath and opens the door, looks around for the shirt he laid out for her this morning in the crowd of kids. She finds him first, though, and soon enough a pigtailed toddler is running over, paint-covered hands held out to show her dad.

“Look, pink!”

“Very cool, Mirae! Can you go wash your hands and then we’ll go home?”

“Can we have ice cream?”

“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

One of Mirae’s teachers goes with her to help scrub the paint from her hands and another floats over to the door. “You’re early today.”

“Yeah, I got off work a little early as a surprise,” Doyoung answers.

She eyes Jungwoo and extends a hand. “I’m Bae Joohyun, one of the teachers running our after school program. And you are?”

“Kim Jungwoo,” he answers, shaking her hand with a smile. “I’m a family friend.” Doyoung’s heart rushes watching the two and hearing ‘family friend’. Wonders why he’s so sensitive to things today, feeling everything so much more than he usually would.

“Are you the second number on Mirae’s emergency contact list? I’m trying to place your name.”

“No, you wouldn’t have recognized it. I work with Doyoung here,” he answers, reaching up to pat Doyoung’s forearm. “This is a nice school.”

“Thank you,” she beams. “We have our hands full, but the kids are wonderful.”

Mirae comes running up again holding a folded piece of printer paper. Doyoung can see streaks of dried paint on the edges of the page and reaches out to take it to put it in the folder with his paperwork. “It’ll blow away,” he explains, earning a little nod. The three of them leave the building, Mirae staring unceasingly at Jungwoo. “Mirae, this is my friend from work. His name is Jungwoo, and he’s going to join us for dinner.”

“Oh, no, I’ll just make the food.”

“What?” Doyoung asks, turning fast enough to feel the strain in his neck. “No, you should stay and eat with us.”

“I-”

Mirae cuts Jungwoo off and says, “I wanna eat just us.”

Jungwoo’s cheeks redden and he looks away. Doyoung initiates damage control, trying to field any interaction between the two. “Mirae, Jungwoo is very cool. And he’s doing a nice thing for us by making us a meal.” She looks up at him with scrunched eyes. “Look at his cool pin, honey.” Doyoung tugs at Jungwoo’s arm to pull him down where Mirae can clearly see, and she begins inspecting.

“I like Snoopy,” she says.

“Me too,” Jungwoo answers sweetly.

“Once, I drew a picture of Tweety.”

“She means from Looney Tunes ,” Doyoung explains.

Jungwoo nods and does a thumbs up. “Tweety is cute. And yellow is a good color.”

“My favorite is green.”

“Green is one of my favorites, too.”

“Last week your favorite color was purple,” Doyoung says. Mirae doesn’t answer. She’s in full analysis mode.

“What did you draw today?” Jungwoo asks.

“A pig. But he has a raincoat on because it’s raining in the picture.”

“Maybe you’ll show it to me while I’m making dinner? I’ve never seen a pig in a raincoat before.”

Mirae’s lips tug up at the corners, the beginning of surrender. Jungwoo flashes another smile and she copies him, and just like that, he’s won. Doyoung’s never seen her warm up to someone so quickly. He waits for the prick of tears, that subtle stinging he’s felt off and on since leaving work, but it doesn't come. His cheeks are still cold, but his chest feels warm.

“Okay, let’s get home, then.” Grabbing Mirae’s hand and swinging their arms as they walk, he finally relaxes. The constant tapping of Jungwoo’s shoes on the pavement beside them lulls him into reverie. He looks at the sparse trees every few feet along the street, the now much darker blue sky, the light pouring out of high-rise buildings. Doyoung can’t remember a better night.

~

“I’m not gonna sugarcoat it, hyung. Your pantry is awful.”

Mirae sits at the dining room table working in her favorite coloring book while Jungwoo surveys the kitchen and Doyoung worriedly bites the skin off his bottom lip. Had he known someone would be coming over, he would have cleaned. Or at least tried to scrub the magenta crayon from the cabinet doors.

“I told you it would be bad.”

“I can make kimchi fried rice, though. Looks like you have the leftovers for it.”

“Thank you,” Doyoung answers, head dipped low. “Again, it’s-”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know. I like spending time with you,” Jungwoo says while shuffling around the kitchen, collecting his materials. “And Mirae, too, of course.”

“Do you need me to do anything?”

“Where do you keep your pans?”

“Oh! Over here.”

Soon Jungwoo falls into a rhythm and the kitchen fills with the smell of food. Food made by someone he knows instead of an underpaid cook at a chain restaurant, food that will still be hot when they sit down to eat it, food that has the feeling of home cooking.

Doyoung has spread his paperwork over the side of the dining table opposite Mirae, but it’s difficult to drag his attention away from the kitchen. After the first few minutes, he notices that Jungwoo bobs his head while measuring out ingredients and then he has to bring his hand up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. He sways in front of the stove, too, sometimes fluid and graceful, sometimes disjointed and funny. Like he’s got music constantly skipping around in his head. Doyoung wonders whether he’s ever danced; he has the body for it. Long legs and languid arms. A soft face made to be viewed from the audience.

“Hyung, you’re staring at me.”

“Huh?”

“Am I doing something wrong?” The way he asks sounds like he knows that’s not the case. It’s playful.

“Oh, no. I’m just… it’s strange to see someone using the kitchen for something other than an art gallery.”

Jungwoo laughs and adds something to the pan. “I feel like I’m on a cooking show. Being watched making food, you know.”

Doyoung feels his face warm. “Ah, I’m sorry, I’ll work. I should be focusing on this anyway.”

“I never said it was bad. Maybe you should come over and learn.”

He walks over before even getting the chance to think. Before letting himself think. Puts a safe distance between the two of them, unaccustomed to the heat of the stove and the etiquette for any part of this situation he’s found himself in.

“Here, the stove has been on this whole time, but I’m going to turn it off so I don’t burn the kimchi.” He leans in near Doyoung and twists the dial off. Their shoulders brush and Doyoung steps away. “Can you add the rice and stir while I soak up the genius of Mirae’s pig drawing?”

“Add all of it?”

Jungwoo nods and walks over to the table, stopping by Doyoung’s papers on the way to grab the drawing to present to Mirae. Doyoung begins mixing the rice in, and his arms ache by the time he feels everything is ready. Wishes he hadn’t canceled his gym membership even though he never went.

“I don’t want to interrupt, Jungwoo, but-”

“Oh, okay! I’m coming.”

A few minutes of cookware clanging and socks sliding across the hardwood floor pass, and there’s a meal on the table. Mirae’s moved her coloring to the coffee table in front of the television and now sits at her usual spot, her Doraemon placemat in position. It doesn’t do much to protect the table; she always finds a way to spill things just adjacent to the border of the mat. But looking at it keeps her occupied during the portion of the meal where she’s finished eating and Doyoung tries to catch up. Jungwoo hovers near the edge of the table, not sitting down.

“Oh, here, take this seat,” Doyoung offers, gesturing to the one next to his own. “If you sit next to Mirae, you’ll get something spilled on your pants, I can guarantee.”

Jungwoo smiles gratefully and begins divvying up portions of the rice, putting a little more in Doyoung’s and Mirae’s bowls than his own. The predominant sound in the room throughout most of the meal is just eating. Conversation isn’t quite as important as the rice that reminds him of his mother’s. Doyoung eats much more than he normally would, loving the way he can taste home in it.

Mirae finishes in record time. “Can I color now?”

Doyoung grimaces into his bowl. “Sweetie, don’t you want to talk to Jungwoo and me?”

“I wanna color. I’m doing a rainbow dog.”

Doyoung looks up apologetically at Jungwoo before nodding. Once she’s scampered off to the living room, he says, “I swear she usually isn’t this spoiled. I just thought-”

“I’m not judging you,” he assures. “She’s very sweet. Really likes art.”

“Yeah,” Doyoung says, smiling. “You’re good with her. She usually doesn’t like new people this fast. Even kids her age.”

“I like to think I’m good at making friends.”

“You definitely are. Look at us.” He pauses to take another bite and then continues, “Why do you think you’re lonely? It seems like you’re a natural.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” he adds, mortified. Can’t believe his brain would malfunction severely enough to ask such a thing.

“It’s okay. I mean, I don’t know. I guess, when you’re in school, it’s easy. Because there’s always something to do with people your age. But now that I’m in the adult world or whatever… I just don’t know where to start.”

Doyoung swallows the last of his rice and organizes his thoughts. “I guess I’m not the best person to give advice. I don’t necessarily have a horde of admirers. But from what I’ve seen, a safe bet is just keeping people from college around.”

Jungwoo nods, his bangs falling forward. “Yeah, or forcing yourself into someone’s home and cooking for them.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Doyoung watches the way Jungwoo presses his lips together and glances down. He can’t be sure what Jungwoo’s thinking, just that he wants to know. “You’re really sweet, Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo smiles softly. His eyes are so big, his hands so pretty clutching the spoon from Doyoung’s utensil drawer. Sitting at Doyoung’s table, looking at him with something , and Doyoung needs to know what it is. “Thank you.”

“It’s nice having you here.”

“I like being here. Your apartment feels nice.”

His stomach feels warm, flips like he knows he’s felt before but can’t remember exactly how long ago. He feels himself grinning, and even though he’s been all over the place this evening, he knows he’s been smiling like this more since Jungwoo checked on him at work. Can’t even control it. “Jungwoo, would you-”

“I finished my dog!”

Doyoung sighs, flashes what must be his hundredth apologetic smile, and turns to Mirae. “Let’s see, honey.”

Mirae shows the two of them her picture, and Jungwoo roots around in his pockets for a slip of paper so he can get her autograph. He pulls out a receipt and she signs it in neon green crayon, so light it’s impossible to see. She runs away smiling, promising to return with a freshly colored monkey for him to take home.

Jungwoo looks down at the receipt, running his thumb over the crayon. Some of the wax flakes off to the table. He flattens the receipt on top of it and slides it to Doyoung. “Can I get your number?”

He’s scrambling for a pen immediately and trying to calm his fluttering heart. Jungwoo is looking for friends. But he can’t help the way his palms sweat or the corners of his lips keep twitching up. Just earlier today, Doyoung couldn’t even remember his name, and now he’s repeating it like a mantra: Being Jungwoo’s friend is enough.

It’ll have to be.

~

“You’re overreacting, Doyoungie.”

“But hyung ,” he whines, “I’m having a crisis.”

He can almost see Yuta’s eyes rolling through the phone as he says, “There is absolutely nothing to worry about here.”

“Yuta-hyung, I don’t know what to do.” He hears his voice get small at the end and is glad Yuta isn’t actually here to see the tears collecting in his eyes. Today has been too long, too full of incident and feeling.

He hears Yuta take a breath, hears the faintest bit of conversation in the background. Yuta’s voice softens as he asks, “What do you think is bad about this?”

“I don’t… I don’t really know.”

“Do you want me to talk it out? Or do you want to?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been interested in anyone. But my life is so messy right now.”

“Your life is not as messy as you think it is, Doyoung.”

“I had a breakdown at work today! That’s the whole reason any of this even happened.”

“I know,” Yuta responds patiently. “But that doesn’t mean your entire life is messy. We all lose it sometimes.”

Doyoung’s stuck in between being thankful Yuta can’t see him and wishing he was here to hug. “He’s so young, hyung.”

“How young?”

“I don’t know, like twenty-two.”

“That’s not much of a difference, Doyoungie.”

“But I have a kid! That adds like ten years to my age in terms of dating.” It hits him as he says it and his chest closes up. He hates nights like this. Loves Mirae so much, more than anything or anyone else, but sometimes it’s so difficult . He recalls the night he had to get Taeyong to babysit her while he was at a company dinner; Taeyong had canceled a date to do it without telling Doyoung. He had cried while undoing his tie that night, having found out from Yuta. Tried to pay Taeyong, but he’d refused the money. The memory stings.

“But Jungwoo didn’t seem thrown off by her or anything, right?”

“No, but he has his whole life left to live. And now he has this fucking dad who has a crush on him, and-”

“But he asked for your number.”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Doyoung, I think you should relax, okay? Just breathe and listen.” Doyoung resents the patronizing phrasing, but sinks into silence anyway. “You just met him earlier today, so it’s not like he sees you too much as a friend to consider you as a boyfriend. And it sounds like he was enthusiastic towards you. He didn’t get distant when you told him about Mirae. Nothing has gone wrong yet.”

“It’s just hard, hyung.”

“I know.”

“I love her so much. You know she’s everything to me. But sometimes I just wanna be a normal twenty-something. Like you guys.” His breathing is erratic, but he’s too tired to try to mask it.

“I know, Doyoungie.”

“Sorry to call you so late and just, like, lose it.”

“It’s okay. That’s what friends are for. Johnny’s telling me to tell you he loves you.”

Doyoung laughs and wipes the last tears from his eyes. “I love him too, but don’t tell him that. Tell him I said something cool and nonchalant.”

“Will do. Sleep well, okay?”

“Okay.”

~

The chair is just as bad today as it was yesterday. In fact, it may be getting worse. His shame must be manifesting physically because every time he catches another coworker eyeing him oddly, his body aches more. It’s been going on all day. He catches a glimpse of eyes wandering over to his desk, looks back down to his papers, and feels a pang somewhere new. He’s aging twice as fast as his friends. And he hasn’t seen Jungwoo all day. Wonders why he ever thought they would actually get as close as he wants.

By the time he’s finally pulling on his coat, he’s deliberating quitting and pulling Mirae out of school, packing everything up from the apartment to disappear. They could live in the space above an old bakery and work for their keep. She could make friends with the cockroaches and he could make friends with a regular patron of the bakery who loves cartoon characters and cooking and enamel pins. His wrists wouldn’t hurt like this.

“Hi, hyung.”

“Huh?” He’s pulled out of his dismal reverie and greeted with wide eyes.

“Ready to leave? I sure am.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Sure. Yeah.”

They walk to the train again. It’s so much darker outside when leaving the office at the regular time. He misses the faded baby blue of yesterday. Jungwoo talks his ears off again, and he smiles like he did before. The walk is comfortable, which makes it easy to forget that Jungwoo’s apartment is in the opposite direction of the station they’re headed to.

“Hyung, it was so ugly, I’m telling you. The worst haircut I’ve ever had. And I-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but isn’t your place that way?”

Jungwoo pauses, sheepish. “Yeah. But I kind of figured…”

“Figured?” Doyoung asks.

“I kind of figured I could cook again.” The space between them falls silent for a moment, and then Jungwoo rushes in, walking it back. “Unless you have other plans, which is totally understandable. I really should have asked you, but-”

“We still have leftovers from last night.” Jungwoo’s face falls further before Doyoung realizes how his response sounded. “Enough for three, though! You don’t have to cook, but you can join us for dinner.”

He smiles and nods. His nose is pink from the cold so it matches his lips. Doyoung finds that he has to consciously stop himself from focusing too long on Jungwoo’s lips. Before long, Jungwoo launches back into his tale of recovery from “ the most insidious haircut, hyung ” and Doyoung lets himself relax. The train ride is pleasant because they’re able to get some seats instead of having to stand, even in the post-workday rush. Their arms press together the whole way.

Doyoung misses the contact as soon as they get off, enveloped in the chilly air again. The school’s bright light pours from its windows, making it look like the picture of warmth.

“Hello, Doyoung,” Joohyun says. “And hello, Jungwoo. Good to see you again.”

“Good to be here again,” he responds.

“Mirae’s cleaning up a game with some of her little friends now, but I’m sure she’ll be over as soon as they’re done.” Doyoung and Jungwoo nod and scan the room.

“Ah, there she is,” Doyoung points. Leaning closer to Jungwoo, he says, “That one in the yellow shirt is Dahye. And I think the other one is Youngmi, but I’m not sure. Mirae usually plays with Dahye the most.”

“You’re right, that’s Youngmi,” Joohyun says. “Mirae has been making lots of new friends recently.”

“Really?” Doyoung asks.

“Don’t act so surprised,” she jokes. “Yes, she’s been more outgoing. She invited Youngmi to play today.”

Doyoung feels pressure on his wrist and looks down to see Jungwoo holding it in his hand. “That’s good, hyung. She’s such a cool kid, she should have a lot of friends.” Joohyun smiles at them and then goes to help some students close their paint sets.

Mirae walks up to them and wraps her arms around Doyoung’s legs immediately. It’s hard to understand her because she’s buried her face in his pant legs, but Doyoung is able to make out “tired” and “home”.

“Okay, let’s get going, then.”

He waits for her to comment on Jungwoo, but she doesn’t. Just looks up at him and smiles lazily. It’s better than anything she could have said.

~

Mirae disappears soon after she finishes eating, but not before informing Doyoung that she will be going to Youngmi’s house to play after school tomorrow.

“Oh, you will? Are you sure?”

She nods and Jungwoo has to stifle a laugh.

“I think Youngmi’s parents and I need to talk about it a little first.”

“Youngmi said she has a big Elsa doll even taller than her.”

“That’s very cool. Did Youngmi say anything about her parents’ phone numbers?”

“No,” she answers in a way that lets Doyoung know that she thinks it’s absurd he would even ask such a question. Jungwoo isn’t able to conceal his laugh this time.

“Okay, well we might have to plan this playdate for some other time, then.”

In order to dodge the quickly developing tantrum, he sets her up with a few of her own dolls in the living room and prays that she’ll forget about it until tomorrow.

“How often do you get out?” Jungwoo asks.

Doyoung sighs. “Is it that bad? Can you tell I’m a hermit?”

“No, of course not,” he assures, tugging at the edge of his sleeve. “I was just wondering. Cause you have someone to take care of.”

Doyoung knew they would talk about this eventually, regardless of whether they dated or not. It’s something a lot of people wonder about. The answer is exactly what they expect. “I don’t really. Only for special occasions.”

“Special occasions?”

“Birthdays, weddings, funerals, work events I can’t get out of.”

“Funerals?” Jungwoo laughs.

“I’ve actually never been to one,” he admits. “But I would go, if there was one for someone I really knew. You get it.”

“Do you go on dates?”

Doyoung’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, which is ridiculous, he realizes. “Not really. I mean I haven’t in a while.”

Jungwoo tugs a little harder at his sleeve but doesn’t look away as he asks, “Do you mind if I ask why?”

He takes a breath and readies his answer, sorting all the reasons into two groups: the ones he will tell Jungwoo and the ones he will not. “I guess I haven’t really had the time. Work is getting more involved, which I think is good, but I really can’t be sure because, as we’ve been over already, I’m not a real adult. And getting a sitter can be pesky.” He waits a moment and then adds, “And no one has asked me.” He allows himself that small attempt. That small step toward whatever may come.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“What part?”

Jungwoo’s eyes settle somewhere below Doyoung’s. He remembers reading somewhere that looking at someone’s lips means you want to kiss them, and he lets himself get swept up in the thought of it for a moment. Hopes Jungwoo is looking at his lips and thanks his past self for remembering lip balm.

“The part about no one asking you out.”

“Usually you have to get to know someone a little bit first, and the only people I really know are my friends, my parents, and Mirae’s teachers.”

“You’re getting to know me too.” Jungwoo’s fingers move from his sleeve to rest on the table in between the two of them. “So there’s that.”

“I’ve been lucky to meet you.”

Jungwoo smiles and Doyoung can’t help but do the same. It’s light and loud like fireworks, the feeling of making Jungwoo happy. “I don’t want to keep inviting myself here, but could I cook again tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to make us food to come over, Jungwoo. We’re friends now.”

Jungwoo presses the tips of his fingers to the table and looks away for just the briefest moment. “But, hyung, what you said yesterday when we were going to Mirae’s school… I don’t want you to worry about stuff like that. Like, feeding your kid and spending time with her.”

“You don’t have to fix that, though.”

“I want to.”

Doyoung’s skin itches under his collar. “I actually wanted to talk about this a little. Last night after you left, I was just thinking.” Jungwoo waits for him to continue, so he steels himself. “I can’t keep asking you to cook for us. Even if it’s only happened once, I don’t know, it’s a job. Cooking for people is a job, and you already have a job, and I can’t pay you for this.”

Jungwoo’s eyes are turned down in thought, and Doyoung awaits his response with more nerves than he thought would find him here. “It’s not a job to cook for someone you care about.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t feel like a job to me.”

“Jungwoo, I… I still feel like I need to… I don’t know. This takes up so much of your time.”

Jungwoo looks back up at him, eyes wide and grin wider. “You want to give me something for this? Like, pay me, in a way?”

“Well, yeah, but-” Doyoung starts, trying his best to keep the blush brought on from Jungwoo’s phrasing from rising to his cheeks.

“Then, tomorrow during your lunch break, let’s go grocery shopping. We’ll get things for me to cook with and you can pay for that. Not extra money, just grocery shopping money.”

“How does that translate into any sort of compensation for you?” he asks.

“I’ll get to spend time with you and I won’t have to MacGyver shit in your kitchen anymore.” Doyoung cringes at the curse and points to Mirae in the other room. “Oops, sorry,” Jungwoo apologizes. “How does that sound?”

“I’m still confused, but I don’t have any plans for my break tomorrow, so…”

“So yes?”

Doyoung smiles at the way Jungwoo’s hands have balled into excited fists and nods. “Yeah. We’ll go grocery shopping.”

A low, aggressive buzz rings through the kitchen as Jungwoo’s phone gets a text and vibrates against the table. The display lights up with a familiar name: Lucas.

“Snoopy Lucas?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jungwoo says. “I thought about what you said last night about keeping up with college friends, so I texted a couple of them to get together sometime.”

“That’s cool,” Doyoung answers, hearing the beginnings of nerves in his voice. “So are you all going out or something?”

“Lucas is the only one who could meet up actually. We’re gonna get coffee and do a little bit of catching up. I think the last time I saw him in person was before I even got my job at the office.” Jungwoo’s picked up on Doyoung’s nerves, too.

This is always his problem. He finds someone kind and beautiful, someone who he thinks he could carve his life around, and then he feels that bitter coldness, the worried possessiveness. It’s something Yuta told him about himself years ago, how jealous he can be. Now it’s all he can do to notice it and hate it. “Tell me more about him.” The air is less comfortable now, his own fault.

“We used to be really close,” Jungwoo answers, pulling at his sleeve again. Doyoung wishes he didn’t set people on edge like this. He hears Jungwoo sigh shortly before adding, “We used to date. Kind of.”

“Oh.”

“It didn’t end badly or anything. We’re still friends, obviously.”

“Well that’s good.” He wishes his sentences weren’t so clipped. Wishes he could deal with his feelings as well as everyone else can.

“Well,” Jungwoo starts, getting up from his chair and carrying his bowl over to the sink, “I should probably go home. Sicheng-hyung has an interview tomorrow for this grad program and he wants me to help him prepare.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay. Tell him I wish him luck.”

Jungwoo smiles at him as he pulls on his coat. Before he can step out, Doyoung gets up and meets him at the door. “So, groceries tomorrow, yeah?” he asks.

Jungwoo nods and his eyes flash suddenly with excitement as he adds, “I’m picking where we go. I have a great idea.”

“Okay,” Doyoung smiles and leans against the doorframe. “So, I’ll see you then.”

“Goodnight, Doyoung-hyung.”

“Night, Jungwoo.”

As soon as the door closes, he walks to the sink and turns on the water. Doing the dishes gives him something to do with his hands and the sound of the running water masks his anxious breathing. Too short, too shallow. Why couldn’t he just relax?

~

Doyoung wishes he knew where Jungwoo’s desk is. It’s never been him checking in on Jungwoo, always the other way around. But he needs an excuse to leave his desk a few minutes early for break, and the hunt for Jungwoo is an excellent pretense for doing just that. He shouldn’t be too far anyway; he was able to hear Doyoung that first day.

The one thing he’s always loved about the building is how many windows there are. If he worked somewhere without sunlight, he would have lost his mind years ago. Or maybe just quit. Doyoung remembers telling Johnny about how much he loves the windows, remembers the very next day when Johnny showed up at his apartment with a little succulent for his desk ( “I know there’s enough light, so if this thing dies, then I’ll know it was user error” ). It still sits on the edge of his tiny desk, the side closest to the nearest window. The green and purple colors of the leaves are a little faded, but it’s alive.

“Hyung! Over here!” Jungwoo stands from his chair tucked near the wall. Doyoung walks over and waits for Jungwoo to pull on his coat and grab everything he needs. “Ready for our date?”

He can feel the corners of his lips pull up in that nervous smile his friends love so much. Nodding, he brings his hand up to pretend to smooth his hair back so he can hide the tips of his ears; they’re turning pink, he can tell. “Nice calendar.” He points down at the picture of baby chicks tumbling out of a basket.

“Ah, yeah, my daily dose of baby animals. One of the better Christmas gifts I received this year.”

“From who?”

“Sicheng-hyung’s boyfriend, actually. Jaehyun. It was terrible because I didn’t get him anything,” Jungwoo laughs, embarrassed.

“How did preparing for his interview go last night?” Doyoung asks, holding the door open for Jungwoo.

“It was good. He was worried, but he’s so charming and smart, there’s no way he won’t get accepted to this program. They would be crazy to reject him.”

“Sounds like a good position to be in.”

Jungwoo nods, pulling his coat tighter around himself in the cold. “How did the rest of your evening go?”

“I did dishes, finished some work, put Mirae to bed. Same as usual, I guess.” He thinks for a moment and adds, “Actually, I also watched the news!”

“Oh, wow, hyung. The news? That’s a little wild for a Wednesday night, don’t you think?”

Doyoung smiles and shoves his shoulder into Jungwoo’s, having to stand on his tiptoes a bit to reach. “So where are we headed?”

Jungwoo glances down at him and smiles. That heart-skipping-a-beat, electric, am-I-having-a-heart-attack feeling jolts through Doyoung, and he realizes that he always notices when Jungwoo smiles at him. Never misses it. “Gwangjang Market.”

“I haven’t been there in years .”

“It’s one of my favorite places.”

“Then I can’t wait.”

~

Doyoung is out of his element. Recently, it feels like he doesn’t have an element at all, but even if he does, this is not it. Even though clouds have moved in overhead to obscure the sun, the market is bright. Stands dripping in strands of lights sell everything from tiny blown glass animals to fresh strawberries. Vendors and customers alike speak loudly and without pause, words blending together in a warm cacophony. Even at noon on a Thursday, it’s crowded. He wraps his arm around Jungwoo’s and leans in, relishing the excuse the market’s given him.

“Here, hyung, I have a list. Follow me.”

And Doyoung does. He clings to Jungwoo as they make their way through the sea of people and catches bits of conversation, glimpses of smiles. The smell is strong, heavy fried foods, perfumes, and a small section with fresh seafood mingling together. It’s nearly overwhelming, but Jungwoo brings his arm down to Doyoung’s waist and whisks him around to whichever booth he needs next, and then it’s hard to focus on anything except the feeling of having him so close.

After paying for a set of potholders ( “I can’t believe you don’t have potholders, hyung” ), they make their way toward a bench at the edge of the throng of people.

“So, Gwangjang, what do you think?”

He leans back on his hands so he has to look up at Jungwoo. “It definitely seems crazier than it was the last time. But maybe I’m just old now.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” Jungwoo agrees. Doyoung smacks his shoulder lightly and laughs when Jungwoo mock gasps. “It’s definitely different in the daytime. My friends and I would always go in the evening.”

“I imagine the lights are prettier then.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence and watch the crowd for a few moments. Doyoung wants to check the time and see how much longer they have, but at the same time, he would rather die than know. Going back to work after this seems absurd. Jungwoo’s phone buzzes and Doyoung does his best to not look at the screen. But he does. It’s Lucas.

“Oh, sorry, hyung. Let me just respond to this real quick.”

His skin itches with want to ask. Curiosity killed the cat, but not knowing could end up hurting more. “Are you going out with him?”

“What?” Jungwoo asks, glancing up from his phone.

“Are you going out with Lucas?” He does his best to keep his tone light, nonchalant. To make it seem like he’s fine.

Jungwoo eyes him for a moment, confusion written across his face. “No. We’re just hanging out again.”

“But do you want to date him?”

“What is this, Doyoung-hyung?”

His throat is tight. “I’m just wondering.” He hopes the embarrassed red coloring of his cheeks will show Jungwoo that he knows how ridiculous he is, that he’s sorry for it.

“Well, I don’t want to date Lucas. We’re better as friends.” It seems like he’s going to leave it there and sentence the two of them to trying to recover the relaxed feeling from earlier, salvage what they can. But then he says, “I’m actually interested in someone else.”

“Oh,” Doyoung says, staring down at his hands now resting in his lap. Decides to leave it at that instead of further humiliating himself.

“You ask so many questions, and you’re not going to ask who I like?”

Forcing himself to make eye contact, he asks, “Who do you like, Jungwoo?” The crowd seems so much quieter now. No background noise to cover for him.

“You. I like you, hyung.”

The air stings cold against his teeth when he gasps. It’s such a melodramatic reaction, but so is everything else he’s done since meeting Jungwoo. He’s reaching for Jungwoo’s hand before he can even think. Their fingers lace together easily, the easiest thing about the past several years of his life. Easier than anything he can remember. “I like you too, Jungwoo.”

“I know.” It makes Doyoung laugh, wide and without self-consciousness. It’s the best feeling in the world, to laugh with him. Jungwoo looks down at their hands and says, “Hyung, you were worried.”

“I know,” he says, sheepish. “I’m working on it. One of my friends pointed out how I get jealous, and it’s kind of haunted me ever since. And I will work on it.”

“I just can’t believe it. I practically begged you to let me cook for you . My ulterior motives were painfully obvious.”

“I don’t like to assume.”

“I’m still coming over tonight, right? Now that we’ve bought all the ingredients for an actual meal?”

“Okay,” Doyoung laughs. “But I’m helping. And then you’re not coming over for a meal unless I’m cooking. You don’t have to work to date me.”

Jungwoo is quiet for a moment before asking, “So can I ask you on a date, then? A real date?”

“What’s this then? This market trip? You even used the word date.” Doyoung can’t bite back his smile.

“This was a trap. To lure you in so I could snare you with my charms at one of my favorite places. Again, entirely selfish motives.” He drags his finger up Doyoung’s arm and asks, “So, a date? It fits the criteria for a night out. You know, birthdays, weddings, funerals-”

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

Music begins to filter in from behind the closest row of stands, and Jungwoo jumps to attention. “Oh my god! This is perfect!”

“What?” Doyoung asks, already being dragged behind Jungwoo as he winds his way toward the music. It’s three musicians set up in a small circle with their cases open for change. Buskers at the market. They play a song Doyoung knows he’s heard before, in a drama maybe, and an older couple steps closer to the circle and begins swaying slowly. Doyoung understands before Jungwoo even turns to him.

“Hyung, will you dance with me?”

If it were anyone else, he would say no. He would worry about making a mistake or coming off as desperate for attention. He would shrink away from this little bit of magic in the middle of the day. With Jungwoo, he steps out from the crowd and dances.

His hands come to rest on Jungwoo’s hips and he feels Jungwoo’s arms snake around the back of his neck. He does his best to avoid looking at the crowd, turning his head in towards Jungwoo’s neck. He smells like flowers, and Doyoung wonders if he has a favorite scent. Realizes he’ll get to know everything he could ever wonder about Jungwoo now.

“You’re so pretty,” he mutters. “That’s such a middle school word, but I hope you know-”

“Thank you,” Jungwoo breathes back.

The song is sweet and lilting, just like all the best romantic songs are. He thinks about Jungwoo coming here with his friends at night, probably glowing brighter than all the strands of lights running from stand to stand. Jungwoo shines like the stars when he smiles, when he gets talking about something he loves. He’s the night sky when he looks at Doyoung.

It makes Doyoung feel special. Like maybe he’s celestial too.

As the song winds down, Jungwoo dips his head down to Doyoung’s ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “We have to go back to work,” he whispers. When Doyoung pulls away, he sees Jungwoo beaming like he’s told a joke.

He bats at Jungwoo’s arm and complains about him breaking the moment, but they hold hands on the train back to the office. Before they walk back in, freshly saddled with groceries to temporarily fill the breakroom fridge and the space under their desks, Doyoung glances at Jungwoo’s pin.

“It’s upside down again.”

“You should fix it.”

Doyoung does. It puts a smile on his face, the small intimacy of it. Hopes that someday he’ll get something for Jungwoo that he’ll love as much as he does this pin. In the meantime, he’ll give Jungwoo the affection he’s wanted to since first seeing him swaying at the stove, lost somewhere in his thoughts. It’ll be enough.

~

“Does Mirae know?” Jungwoo whispers to a hungry Doyoung wilted over the kitchen counter.

“Hmm, not yet.” He straightens up and starts stirring the pot Jungwoo pushes towards him. “I’ve not really… had to do this before. Tell her anything like this.”

Jungwoo pauses his searching through the cabinets for a bowl and grabs Doyoung’s hand. “Are you nervous?” Doyoung shakes his head, still trying to stir one-handed. “She likes me, though, so that will make it easier, right?”

“Yeah. I just don’t know how to bring it up, you know? I haven’t been in an actual relationship for years. She wouldn’t remember.”

“Well,” Jungwoo croons, “you could start, ‘Honey, sometimes-’”

“Actually,” Doyoung laughs, “I don’t think I need help with the phrasing. I feel like-”

“It wasn’t gonna be weird,” Jungwoo pouts. But he can’t pretend to be serious for long and he smiles into the cabinets he’s returned to.

“There’s a bowl on the right,” Doyoung calls across the kitchen.

“Thanks, sweetie,” Jungwoo says. Doyoung blushes and falters in his stirring for just a second. A momentary misstep, but Jungwoo laughs at it all the same. “Can I call you that? Cute names like that?”

Doyoung trains his eyes to the contents of the pot, a recipe Jungwoo got from his mother, something Doyoung’s never had before. “You can call me anything you want.”

Jungwoo creeps slowly behind Doyoung, wrapping his arms around his waist, feather-gentle. “Babe? Honey? Cupcake?”

Doyoung winces at ‘cupcake’, even as a joke. “ Not that last one.”

Jungwoo rests his chin on Doyoung’s shoulder and he switches arms to stir. Doyoung feels the tiniest inhalation by his ear, the smallest steeling for courage, before Jungwoo asks, “Boyfriend?”

He stops stirring. If ever there was a moment where the meal could take the back seat, this is it. He brings his hands to rest on Jungwoo’s around his waist and leans his head back so their faces are close, so they can talk and breathe the same space. “Yes,” he whispers. Jungwoo’s arms tighten around his waist and pull him close, wrenching laughter from both of them. The kitchen, though it’s bathed in the deep dark of a Seoul night, is light. It’s sun and stars and the two of them. It’s the shine of Jungwoo’s eyes and the gravity of Doyoung’s wide smile.

Jungwoo reaches around Doyoung and turns off the stove, pulls him gently to the middle of the kitchen and twists him so they’re facing one another. And the two of them, sans music and string lights but with so much more, begin swaying. Finishing the dancing from earlier. Slowly coming to realize that each night could end like this one.

Doyoung doesn’t know how long they dance like that. Eventually they finish cooking and call Mirae to the table. Eventually she finishes early and excuses herself to color (a puppy for Jungwoo to take home to hang on his fridge). Eventually the clock hands have dragged themselves too far and Sicheng has texted with three question marks at the end.

“I’m going to take you out this weekend, babe,” Jungwoo says as he pulls on his shoes at the door.

Doyoung hums, his hands playing against the doorframe at his back. His heart flutters like it did in high school. “So this is you telling me I need to get a sitter.”

Jungwoo smiles and says, “Sicheng and his boyfriend love kids. Maybe you could meet them soon? See if they pass your test?”

“Your roommate and his boyfriend watching my kid while we’re on a date,” he repeats.

“It’d be easy, wouldn’t it?” he asks, pulling at Doyoung’s wrists. They’re getting closer.

He’s not leaning against the frame anymore, inching ever so slowly towards leaning into Jungwoo. “It would be easy,” he whispers. “Can we come over tomorrow?”

“You can come over whenever you want. You’re my boyfriend now,” Jungwoo smiles. Softly, so softly.

“I like how that sounds,” Doyoung answers, and there’s nothing left to say, no space to fill.

Jungwoo kisses softly, hands on Doyoung’s cheeks, his neck. They press together perfectly, warm and sweet, and Doyoung thanks every force in the cosmos that he was able to meet Jungwoo. That he’s able to kiss someone with soft eyes and an affinity for flowers and an ever-present enamel Snoopy pin.

Thanks the universe for one more person to pull back the curtains and let the sunlight stream into his life.

~

Jungwoo is there to help Doyoung choose a new couch for his apartment. Doyoung’s nervous, wondering if it’s too much too fast, to pick out a couch for an apartment (even if it’s not for an apartment they’ll live in together ). Yuta and Johnny tell him he’s being ridiculous in their own ways, Yuta’s way slightly harsher. More effective, too. Johnny advises against white because of Mirae’s artistic vision of crayon on every surface of the place, and the two of them pick out a couch accordingly. Doyoung’s heart almost isn’t cut out for it.

Jungwoo is there at the coffee shop counter ordering an herbal tea for himself and a veritable sugar bomb of caramel for Doyoung. Doyoung’s settled into a plush chair making easy conversation with Sicheng and Jaehyun, Mirae’s now-regular babysitters. They take her back to Sicheng’s apartment after her school lets out now; Joohyun’s told Doyoung she’s always happy to see them. They’re coming to her little graduation ceremony in a month. He has both of their numbers; at first just to use because they babysit his daughter, but now because he loves them. Jungwoo comes to join them, drinks in hand, and Doyoung thinks he’s in love with him.

Jungwoo is there even when he isn’t. He has a toothbrush at Doyoung’s sink and a pair of house slippers at the door. He keeps the pantry stocked, and he gifted Doyoung with an entire set of cookware for Christmas. Mirae colors something new for him every week and hangs it all up on the fridge and the walls of her room. Doyoung’s pillows smell like Jungwoo’s favorite perfume, like a botanical garden, and when he tells Yuta what he’s thinking, Yuta goes silent. Then he agrees. Doyoung asks Mirae if she would like him to ask Jungwoo to move in.

Every day is brighter. Every night is softer. He and Mirae eat less takeout and have more family movie nights. Slowly, almost unnoticeably, the way they think of family shifts in number from two to three. Sometimes Doyoung gets caught up in it, thinking about how, before, he never thought it would happen, this ease. This love. In those moments, he reaches for Jungwoo’s hand, and it’s everything it should be. Full and bright, like the sunlight streaming in.