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Dongmyeong knows something is up from the moment Dongju gets in the passenger seat of his car. He’s been playing Christmas music since October, excited for the upcoming holiday, but now that Dongmyeong is driving them home to spend Christmas with their parents in Suwon, Dongju is silent, fidgeting nervously with his phone instead of hooking it up to the aux cord for their traditional sing-along session. At first, Dongmyeong gives him the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe he’s putting together a playlist or selecting the right song, but after five minutes of driving in absolute silence, Dongmyeong has had enough. He opens his mouth to ask Dongju what’s wrong, but Dongju beats him to it.
“I’m thinking about telling our parents.” He says it all in one breath, like he does when he’s nervous to say something but too anxious to keep it to himself.
Dongmyeong spares him a glance. He’s looking past Dongmyeong, out the car window, chewing at one of his fingernails absentmindedly. Dongmyeong doesn’t even have the heart to tell him to quit the bad habit as he focuses his attention back on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel.
“About?”
“Me and Geonhak.”
It’s serious, then, if Dongju’s thinking about telling their parents. Dongmyeong noticed the way the two of them looked at each other when they thought no one was looking long before Dongju confessed they were a thing, saw the way Geonhak’s eyes softened and smile brightened only when he looked at Dongju. He’d do anything for Dongju, Dongmyeong’s pretty sure, and Dongmyeong doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dongju smile quite as much or heard him laugh quite as loudly as he does when Geonhak’s around. They seem happy together, and Dongmyeong’s happy for them.
“You seem nervous.”
Dongju’s voice is muffled when he speaks, and Dongmyeong knows it’s because he’s still chewing that damn fingernail. “I am.”
“But why? Geonhak might seem a little bit intimidating at first, but you and I both know he’s a big softie. I’m pretty sure he’d find a way to pull the moon down with his bare hands if you asked him for it. Mom and Dad will love him.”
Dongju huffs, and Dongmyeong knows that isn’t the problem. This isn’t about Geonhak, specifically.
He and Dongju have never exactly hid the fact that they both like boys—Dongmyeong thinks their mutual love of musicals ought to have been enough of a hint, and their mother openly encouraged that, buying them tickets and going to shows with them so often it became a family tradition. But they’ve never openly said it either, have never brought a boy home and avoided mentioning the genders of any dates they took out over the years. Their parents have never given them any reason to think they wouldn’t be okay with their sons not being straight, but you can never be too careful. Coming out is scary, and in Dongmyeong’s opinion, it’s just easier not to. He’s not making out with his boyfriends in front of other people, so why do other people need to know?
But Dongju is different. Dongju has always wanted the idealized Disney movie happily-ever-after. He wants a fairytale wedding with all their closest friends and family there—at Disneyland, if he can talk his future betrothed into it. Dongmyeong knows this, because Dongju has been planning it since they were six. He wonders if Geonhak’s seen the wedding planning notebook yet.
The stoplight ahead of them turns red, and Dongmyeong slows the car to a stop, turning to face Dongju just long enough to take in his expression. He’s bouncing a little with nervous energy, but there’s a hint of excitement too, even if it’s hard to make out with the way his brows are furrowed.
In that moment, Dongmyeong knows that if Dongju asks Geonhak for the Disney wedding, Geonhak will say yes, because it’s impossible to love Dongju without wanting to do everything for him. Dongmyeong is not above this rule, though he’ll be damned if he ever admits to it.
“Tell you what,” he starts, fixing his eyes back on the road as the light turns green. “You tell Mom and Dad about you and Geonhak. And if, for some reason, they react badly… I’ll tell them who I’m dating.”
“Who you’re dating?!” Dongju screeches so loudly that if Dongmyeong weren’t in the middle of driving, he’d put his hands up over his ears to shield them from the noise. “Since when have you been dating someone? Who is it? Why didn’t you tell me?”
This is not the way he planned on telling Dongju. If he’s honest, he didn’t know if he’d ever tell Dongju, because even though they’re best friends and flesh and blood and share so many things, a lot of people still don’t even understand relationships like Geonhak and Dongju’s. Asking someone to understand a relationship like Dongmyeong’s is an even greater task, and while Dongmyeong knows with absolute certainty that Dongju would never hate him or stop talking to him over something like this, he doesn’t know that he won’t judge him. He expects that judgement from strangers, but he doesn’t know if he could face it from the one person whose opinion he values most.
That’s how Dongju feels about telling their parents, Dongmyeong knows. And if spilling his guts about this could mean protecting Dongju, Dongmyeong will do it.
He takes a deep breath, eyes fixed on the road like he needs to concentrate even though it’s a straight stretch with little traffic around. “You know my band?”
It’s a stupid question, because Dongju has known the members of ONEWE even longer than he’s known his own bandmates; he and Dongmyeong basically grew up with them. From band rehearsals at their parents’ house when they were kids, to tagging along to their busking events and early concerts, Dongju was their unofficial manager/promoter/biggest fan until they all joined RBW and he started chasing after his own singing dream. Dongju knows Yonghoon, Hyungu, Harin, and Giwook nearly as well as his own twin, and that’s why this is scary. Dongju doesn’t actually know any of them as well as he thinks.
“It’s Harin, isn’t it?” Dongju gasps, jabbing his fingertip into Dongmyeong’s shoulder. “I knew it, I knew he was your type! People call Harin a het, but I knew there was something in the way you two flirt when you’re alone together—”
"It’s not Harin.” Dongmyeong’s voice sounds calmer than he feels, but there’s a tremor in the middle that gives him away. “Well. Not just Harin.”
And then it’s silent, as Dongmyeong waits for what he’s said to sink in. He hates silence, hates waiting for Dongju to say something, anything, so he breaks it himself. “I’m dating all of them. Harin, Yonghoon, Hyungu, and Giwook. We’re all together.”
“Oh,” Dongju finally says. “Mom and Dad will freak.”
Dongmyeong laughs, but it comes out much too hollow. “Exactly. So if they have a problem with you and Geonhak, they’ll forget all about it, right?”
He doesn’t realize he’s gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles have gone white until he feels Dongju’s hand on his, gentle, encouraging him to loosen up. He relaxes enough to take a deep breath, and then Dongju speaks.
“I’m not going to lie to you and say I understand it,” he starts, and Dongmyeong braces himself for the verbal slap across the face. “I don’t know how you can date four people at once. But I’ve known you your whole life, and you’ve always had love, like, spilling out of your pores. It might be because you’re so tiny, you can’t keep it all inside.”
“You’re like two centimeters taller, shut up,” Dongmyeong grumbles, but there’s no bite. He’s too scared to be mean.
“So I guess if anyone could date four people,” Dongju continues, ignoring the interruption. “It would be you. And those boys are your family. Anyone can see that they’re definitely the people you’re closest to after me. So I kind of always thought you’d end up dating one of them, I just didn’t expect it to be all four.”
Despite Dongmyeong’s fears, Dongju’s words sound pretty close to acceptance. He cracks a smile, and when he looks at Dongju, he sees the same expression mirrored back at him.
“Thanks, Dongju,” he says quietly. “I didn’t really… We didn’t plan to tell people, because most won’t understand.” It’s more vulnerable than he allows himself to be, even with Dongju, and Dongju picks up on that.
“I figure,” he says, “if you didn’t even tell me. But you’re willing to tell our parents, if it’ll take the heat off of me.”
Dongmyeong nods. That’s exactly what he’s offering, because Dongju is his baby brother even if he’s only a minute younger, and Dongmyeong would do anything to protect him.
But Dongju is just as stubborn. “You don’t have to. If they react badly to me and Geonhak… I can’t let you put yourself on the line like that.”
“What are they gonna do?” Dongmyeong asks, but there’s sadness in his smile. “I’m an adult. I don’t live with them. They can’t make me stop dating them.” Which is true, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot he could lose. He’s saying this to talk himself up as much as he is to reassure Dongju.
Dongju sighs, which Dongmyeong knows means he’s dropping the subject. They’re both too stubborn to give in once they set their mind on something; insisting Dongmyeong doesn’t have to tell their parents will only result in him digging his heels in and committing to do it more.
Their mother greets them at the door, fussing that their winter coats aren’t thick enough as she takes them from them to stow in the coat closet.
“We drove here,” Dongmyeong reminds her with a laugh. “We only needed them for the short walk between the driveway and the door. I promise we didn’t freeze.”
But mothers are mothers, and she fusses over them anyway, pinching at the skin of Dongmyeong’s arm. “Look how skinny you’ve gotten!” she scolds, and Dongmyeong tries to hide his wincing with a smile.
“We just had a comeback,” he says, hoping she’ll leave it at that. His mother doesn’t need to know how often he’s reminded that the camera adds ten pounds, or about the diet he’s been on for the past month in preparation for photoshoots and video shoots and music show stages. There’s no sense in worrying her about that, especially because he knows he gets it easy compared to Dongju. Bands are less pressured about their images than idol groups.
“What do you think we came home for?” Dongju cuts in, resulting in their mother pinching the bit of baby fat he still has in his cheeks. Dongmyeong’s glad he never quite lost that, even though he knows Dongju wishes otherwise. “So you can feed us a nice, home-cooked meal and we can gain back all the weight we lost during comeback season.”
“Your father’s almost done cooking,” she informs them, pulling away so the twins can finally slip their shoes off. Dongmyeong’s boots are notably thicker-heeled than Dongju’s, leaving him standing even shorter in his socked feet. Dongju, for his part, avoids teasing him for it. “I’m sure you boys are starving from the long drive over.”
“Mom, please, it was like thirty minutes tops.” Dongmyeong laughs. Suddenly, he sees where he gets his flair for the dramatics from.
Dongju slips into the kitchen to see if their dad needs help with anything, while Dongmyeong moves to help their mom set the table. Even with his eyes fixed on the dinnerware he’s setting out, he can feel her staring at him from across the table, and it makes him nervous. Like she can somehow read his mind and know everything he and Dongju talked about on the car ride over.
“My son,” she says reverently.
Dongmyeong looks up, giving her a tiny smile. “Mom…”
“You’ve both grown up so much. It feels like it’s been forever since I last saw you.”
“We were just here for Chuseok,” he reminds her. But that was almost three months ago now, and his hair was blond then. Blond hair has always made him feel more like a singer, more like the confident superstar he aspires to be onstage. With dark hair, he feels like just an ordinary person. And maybe that’s what his mother sees when she looks at him now: not Dongmyeong, the keyboard player in a mildly famous band, but Son Dongmyeong, the son she raised for twenty years but has barely seen for the last three. It hits him then, how much there is about his life and who he is now that she doesn’t know.
“Dinner’s ready!” his father calls, and Dongmyeong is grateful for the distraction. He offers his mother another smile before he gets up to help carry some of the food out from the kitchen.
It isn’t until they’re all settled around the table, halfway through the meal, that Dongju brings it up. Dongmyeong almost thought he’d forgotten about it, or changed his mind about telling them, when Dongju suddenly sets his chopsticks down, chewing and swallowing his mouthful of rice before he speaks.
“So,” he starts, looking at both of his parents, then at Dongmyeong. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about telling you, but I wanted to wait until I knew it was serious first.”
“What is it, honey?” their mom asks, her tone gentle, encouraging. Perhaps she sees where this is going, or maybe Dongmyeong only thinks it’s obvious because he already knows.
Dongju takes a deep breath, looking down at his hands, which are folded nervously in his lap. “I’m seeing someone,” he announces. Their mother gasps, and it sounds like pleasant surprise, but she hasn’t heard the full story yet.
“I didn’t know you two had time to date with your busy schedules,” she says. “Especially this year, with all the…” She gestures vaguely around them, but Dongmyeong knows what she means: the pandemic, and social distancing guidelines. It would be very difficult to meet and start seeing someone new in these times, but that doesn’t matter if the person you’re dating is someone you already live and work with nearly 24/7.
“Do we get to meet her?” their father asks.
Dongju’s face tightens. This is the difficult part. Dongmyeong reaches for his hand under the table and squeezes it gently, reassuring him.
“Um.” Dongju’s still not looking at their parents, but he squeezes Dongmyeong’s hand back, barely. “You actually already have.”
There’s silence for a moment, while their parents no doubt rack their brains trying to remember any women Dongju has introduced them to lately.
“His name’s Geonhak.” Dongju says it so softly, like he’s afraid of saying it out loud, and Dongmyeong knows he is. “You’ve met him because he’s in my band. Leedo. That’s his stage name.”
Dongmyeong glances at their parents, but their expressions are unreadable. They don’t seem mad, or hurt, necessarily, but their mother’s smile is missing the bright glow it had a moment ago. His heart races. Fuck, he’s really going to have to do this, isn't he?
Their father opens his mouth to speak, but Dongmyeong raises his hand to stop him. “Before you say anything,” he starts, ignoring the way Dongju’s squeezing his other hand so tightly his nails dig into his skin, trying in vain to stop him. “There’s something I need to tell you too.”
“What is it?” their mother asks with a laugh, and Dongmyeong for the life of him cannot tell if it’s sincere. Maybe this was a mistake. “Are you dating a boy too?”
Dongmyeong’s palms prickle with sweat, his mouth impossibly dry suddenly. Somehow, he didn’t think this would be as scary as it actually is. “Yes and no.” He straightens his back, trying to look more confident than he feels. “I’m dating four of them, actually: Yonghoon, Hyungu, Giwook, and Harin.”
He musters the courage to look directly at their mother, and doesn’t miss the way her mouth pops open in shock. That gets a little laugh out of him despite himself. “And you know what? We’re happy together, the five of us. And Dongju is really happy with Geonhak. That’s why he wanted to tell you guys. So please… you don’t have to agree with us, but please accept the fact that your sons are happy and in love, even if it’s not the type of love you hoped for.”
“Are you finished?” their father asks, and Dongmyeong feels every ounce of confidence leave his body. He nods, meekly.
“I was just going to ask if it was a good idea to date within the workplace, but clearly neither of you have a problem with that.” He laughs, but Dongmyeong can’t detect any malice in it. He feels like he can breathe again, at least a little bit.
“Sweetheart, your father and I don’t care if you two are gay,” their mother continues. “I mean, I let you two play with my makeup and dress up in my old clothes how many times?”
Dongmyeong flushes, because okay, maybe she does have a point, but anxiety is an unreasonable beast that ignores silly things like logic.
“To be honest, I always kind of suspected it,” she continues. “But neither of you ever said anything or talked about boys, so I thought maybe I was wrong for assuming.”
“‘Cause we were terrified you wouldn’t be okay with it.” Dongju’s looking up from his lap now, looking at their mother with wide, cautious eyes. For a moment, Dongmyeong sees the shy kid that hid behind him when they were introduced to someone new, trying to shrink his larger frame down because he was scared of being perceived. He’s fragile; the wrong words could break him.
“I’m sorry if we ever gave you two that impression,” their father says. “Your mother and I love you both unconditionally. That will never change.”
Dongju smiles, a wide, genuine smile that brightens his eyes, even if it wavers nervously at the edges. “So you’re okay with me dating Geonhak?” he asks, to make sure.
Their mother nods. “As long as he treats you well, and you’re happy with him, of course we are,” she promises. “And I’d love to meet him properly, if you’d like to bring him home for dinner sometime.”
“I’d love that,” Dongju agrees. He’s speaking faster, voice taking on that lilt it only does when he’s excited about something. “Geonhak-hyungie’s shy around new people, so he might not be very talkative, but I promise that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.”
It’s so clear by the way Dongju lights up that he’s been wanting to share this for a while, and Dongmyeong’s happy that he’s finally able to, that Dongju's fears were for nothing and their parents are open and accepting of his relationship.
But Dongmyeong doesn’t miss the fact that his own relationship status has been glossed over. Sure, no one said anything negative, and that’s definitely a plus, but the lack of reaction at all besides his mother’s openmouthed look of surprise has the anxious gears in his head turning. What if the acceptance they’re showing Dongju doesn’t extend to him? What if his relationship goes beyond the realm of what they deem acceptable?
He doesn’t realize he’s sulking, pushing the food around on his plate idly, until he hears his mother say his name. “Dongmyeongie, is something wrong? Why aren’t you eating?”
Dongmyeong swallows around the lump that’s suddenly formed in his throat, offering her a thin smile. “I’m fine,” he insists, but he knows it’s see-through.
“Bullshit,” Dongju calls from beside him, and Dongmyeong shoots him a glare, to which Dongju only smiles in return. “He’s worried you’re not going to accept his relationship the way you accept mine.” And Dongju is right, damn it, but he didn’t have to say it.
He looks back at their mother to find her staring at him, her eyes kind but questioning. “Were you serious about what you said earlier? You weren’t just making something up to take the heat off of Dongju?”
And it would be so easy to lie. To laugh and avoid his parents’ gaze, say “Of course it wasn’t serious, don’t be ridiculous.” Only Dongju would know he was lying, and Dongju wouldn’t tell.
But given this opportunity, Dongmyeong finds he doesn’t want to lie. He doesn’t want to sweep this back under the rug and pretend he’s not in love with his bandmates, because he is, and maybe he wants people to know that more than he thought.
“I was,” he says softly, sounding more like Dongju than himself. He clears his throat, trying to sound more confident. “It wasn’t a joke. I really am in a relationship with my bandmates.”
“And how long has that been going on?” their father asks.
Dongmyeong honestly doesn’t have an answer. He can’t pinpoint a singular moment when his relationship with his bandmates shifted from camaraderie to something more, because he’s not sure there was one. They’ve spent almost every day of the past five years together; hell, they see each other more than they see their flesh and blood families. At some point, the “I love you”s they traded stopped being platonic, their jokes about going on dates together stopped being jokes, and their kisses moved from cheeks to mouths to… everywhere. Dongmyeong doesn’t know when it happened because there was no big fanfare, no sit-down discussion to put a label on this thing that exists between them. It just happened, as naturally as breathing.
“A long time,” he answers finally. “Not the whole time I’ve known them, but… a long time, yeah.”
He looks down at his hands, fidgeting with the ring he put on before he left the dorm. Looking at it now, he realizes it’s Giwook’s, and he can’t help but smile.
“Then… it must work somehow, if you’ve stayed together for a while,” their father says.
Dongmyeong nods. He understands now why Dongju kept looking at his hands earlier, why it was so hard to gather the courage to face their parents. “I know it’s unconventional, and a lot of people don’t understand it, but—”
“Dongmyeong.” His mother’s voice cuts him off, and he looks up, wide-eyed. “You don’t have to defend yourself to us. With how often those boys came over when you were all younger, they’re practically my other sons. Wait, that’s a bad analogy if you’re dating them.”
Dongmyeong bursts into laughter, covering his mouth in a poor attempt to hide it, but their mother starts chuckling too.
“Oh, you know what I mean. They’re good kids, and they wouldn’t… I know they’d never do anything to hurt you.”
Dongmyeong nods in agreement.
“So, even if I don’t completely understand it… I don’t think that matters right now, because the important thing is that you’re taken care of and you’re happy.”
“And you are, aren’t you, son?” their father asks.
Dongmyeong nods. He feels tears welling at the corners of his eyes, and he wills them down. He doesn’t cry over sentimental shit like this, that’s Yonghoon’s job. “I am. I’m really happy with my boyfriends."
“Then we’re happy for you,” their mom declares. And that is more than Dongmyeong could have ever wished for. The best he thought he could hope for was that they would tolerate it, maybe turn a blind eye as long as they didn’t have to see or hear about it. But his parents and his twin all know now, and even if they don’t exactly understand it, they’re willing to accept it because he’s happy.
He reaches across the table to hug his mom, and she hugs back tightly. “Thank you,” he says softly.
She smiles, kissing the top of his head. “There’s no need to thank me for loving you, baby.”
Dongmyeong flops back onto the bed in his childhood bedroom, which is exactly the same as he left it when he moved out at sixteen. He dials the most recent contact on his phone, then lifts it to his ear as he waits for the other person to pick up.
“Yonghoon-hyung?” he says when he hears the line connect.
He can almost hear the smile break out across his boyfriend’s face. “Dongmyeongie! You made it to your parents’ house safely?”
“I did. Are the others around, or have they gone home for Christmas already?”
“No, they’re here! Everyone’s heading out sometime tomorrow, I think. Did you want to talk to them?”
“Please?” Dongmyeong sits up a little, hugging his knees to his chest. “I want to talk to all of you.”
“Hold on, let me get them.” Dongmyeong hears the sound of whatever Yonghoon was sitting on creaking as he gets up, then a door opening and closing. “You miss us already?” Yonghoon teases.
“Yeah,” Dongmyeong admits, then chuckles. “Don’t let that go to your head though.”
Yonghoon laughs too, and the sound makes something warm settle into Dongmyeong’s chest. It sounds like home.
He hears more rustling noises and some muffled voices that he knows must be his other boyfriends. When he hears Yonghoon’s voice again, it sounds farther away, and Dongmyeong knows he’s put the call on speakerphone. “Everyone, say hi to Dongmyeong.”
“Hi Dongmyeong!” Hyungu, Harin, and Giwook say nearly in unison, but Dongmyeong can pick out each of their voices anyway.
“Hi boys. What have you all been up to today?”
“Oh, you know,” Harin starts. “The daily workout routine, some drum practice.”
“I see life goes on just fine without me,” Dongmyeong teases.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Giwook says. “The sappy movie Yonghoon-hyung made us watch wasn’t nearly as much fun without your commentary.”
Dongmyeong gasps, pretending to be hurt. “You had movie night without me?”
“We watched Dear John,” Hyungu explains, and Dongmyeong recognizes the title as a sappy romance he kept shooting down when Yonghoon suggested it.
“Don’t tell me you’re really upset about missing it,” Yonghoon protests, sounding defensive. “You fell asleep watching The Notebook!”
Dongmyeong laughs, because Yonghoon isn’t wrong, but it’s no fun if he gives in that easily. “I still can’t believe you got invested enough in that sappy het shit to write a whole song about it.”
“Just so you know,” Giwook says, a warning tone to his voice. “Yonghoon-hyung and Hyungu-hyung are both glaring daggers at the phone right now.” Almost immediately, Dongmyeong hears Giwook’s breathless laughter, punctuated by apologies, as one or both of the older boys no doubt ambush him for telling on them.
“You wrote a very good song!” Dongmyeong insists, trying to smooth things over. “But the movie’s still boring.”
“So Dongmyeongie,” Harin cuts in, probably hoping a change in subject will get their other boyfriends to stop fighting. “What’s going on with you?”
It’s an innocent question, but Dongmyeong’s chest tightens as he remembers the reason he called them. “Right. Um. I kind of… came out to my parents.”
There’s silence on the other line, the playful fighting finally dying down as the conversation turns serious.
“Oh. How did that go?” Hyungu asks, his voice gentle.
“It went… well, I think,” Dongmyeong says. “Dongju wanted to tell them about him and Geonhak, but he was worried they’d react badly, so I kind of, um, admitted that I was dating all of you.”
“And that went... well?” Yonghoon checks.
Dongmyeong nods, before remembering he’s not on video call and they can’t see him. “Yeah. I don’t think either of them really understood it, but Mom said they’re happy as long as I’m happy, and I told them I’m really happy with you.”
Harin awws, and if Dongmyeong were there he’d smack his arm playfully, which he knows would result in Harin shoving him back and accidentally knocking him over because he doesn’t know his own strength.
“Shut up,” he mumbles instead. “Listen, I know we didn’t really plan on telling anyone—”
“It’s okay,” Harin cuts him off, his voice gentle. “We didn’t exactly plan it to be some big secret either, did we?”
Dongmyeong thinks about it, twirling Giwook’s ring around on his finger again. “Well, no.” It’s true, they never swore themselves to secrecy, but there’s a lot that could have gone wrong if his parents had reacted badly, and in retrospect, he probably should have given his boyfriends a heads up before blurting it out. “I just kind of feel bad that I told without your permission.”
“You’re safe, right?” Hyungu asks, and even through the phone, Dongmyeong can sense his concern. “Your parents seemed genuinely supportive?”
“Of course, hyung. I’m safe, and my parents were honestly more supportive than I thought they’d be.”
“Then it’s good.” Dongmyeong can picture the kind smile Hyungu would give him if he was home, the way he’d tuck Dongmyeong’s hair behind his ear. “As long as it didn’t put you in any kind of danger, why would we have a problem with you telling your family we’re in love?”
And maybe that’s the romantic in Hyungu talking, the one who reads novels about soulmates and tells the rest of them that it reminds him of them. But despite his occasional cynicism, Dongmyeong’s a romantic at heart too. He can’t help but be swayed by Hyungu’s words.
He leans back against his pillows, and his eyes land on an old poster of the five of them he forgot he stuck up on his ceiling. It's from one of their first albums, back when they were all teenagers except Yonghoon. They thought they were so cool, Dongmyeong remembers, but now he thinks they just looked like kids. They were kids, really. They hadn’t even known each other for two full years at the time the photo was taken, but Dongmyeong looks at it now, looks at the way they’re cuddled together, the complete lack of personal boundaries, and he can’t imagine things turning out any differently than they are now. He can’t imagine a lifetime where he’s not in love with them.
“Myeongie?” The sound of Hyungu’s voice brings him back down to earth, and he realizes he’s been quiet for too long, lost in his own thoughts.
“Sorry. You’re right.” He hugs a pillow to his chest, wishing he’d brought one of the stuffed animals from their dorm. It still wouldn’t be as good as hugging his boyfriends, but maybe it would smell like one of them instead of the laundry detergent his mother uses. “I’m glad they know, honestly. I’m glad I don’t have to hide the fact that I love you all anymore, at least not from them. It was just scary not knowing how they would react, you know?”
“I know,” Yonghoon says. “Would it make you feel better if we told our families?”
Dongmyeong thinks about how close Yonghoon is with his own parents, how he cried that day his mother surprised him by showing up at one of their busking concerts after she said she wouldn’t be able to make it. Yonghoon confided in him once that he never even thought he liked boys until he realized his feelings towards the four of them went deeper than platonic affection, so he didn’t spend his youth looking for any hint his parents might be okay with it, the way Dongmyeong did. Can he even begin to guess how they’d feel about it? What if they wouldn’t accept him?
“Hyung, you don’t have to do that.” He can’t ask Yonghoon to potentially sacrifice his relationship with his parents, not for him. Dongmyeong was afraid of coming out, but his parents never gave him any reason to think it might be unsafe to do so. He doesn’t know if any of his boyfriends can even wager that bet.
“Okay but consider,” Yonghoon continues. “If we do, we can have a big wedding one day and invite all our families and—”
Giwook cuts him off with a laugh. “Hyung, you’re losing it.”
Dongmyeong laughs too, grateful for them lightening the mood. “You sound like Dongju.”
The truth is, Dongmyeong is also a lot more like Dongju than he’d like to admit. He’s always wanted a happy ending with the love of his life by his side, he just never thought he cared about showcasing it to the world the way Dongju did.
He gets it now. He understands why Dongju wanted to tell their parents about him and Geonhak so badly, why he wants the big wedding with all their friends and family there. Because if Dongmyeong could have those things with Giwook and Hyungu and Yonghoon and Harin, if he could tell the whole world about them without any consequences, he wouldn’t hesitate. Because they’re in love, and there’s nothing wrong with that. If only more people saw it that way.
“I love you guys a lot, you know that?” Dongmyeong says, suddenly overcome with affection.
“We love you too,” Giwook says. “We’ll see you when you get home from your parents’, yeah? Enjoy the holidays with your family.”
Dongmyeong takes it for granted sometimes, how lucky he is to wake up to the boys he loves every single morning and go to sleep with at least one of them beside him almost every night. He’s only been at his parents' house a few hours and he already misses them. “You too. Get home safely tomorrow. I’ll try not to miss you too much.”
“Oh, Myeongie,” Yonghoon says, a fondness in his voice that’s reserved for the four of them. “We missed you the second you left the dorm.”
And maybe Dongmyeong can’t crack on Yonghoon for being sappy anymore, because he has a sudden vision of the five of them spending Christmas together, with all of their families with them to celebrate. He doesn’t know if that would ever be possible. His boyfriends might never tell their families about their relationship, or if they do, they might not be accepting of them. But maybe one day they will. It can’t hurt to hope, right?