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It came to him in front of a glass display in Paris. His unfocused eyes blurred the image of lights reflecting off the window, framed by brick and warding off the darkness of the night to give into the illusion of day. He didn’t see whatever items were on sale, only his reflection staring back at him with eyes that spoke of emotions he didn’t want to taste.
Seungmin .
It wasn’t the oddest thought Jeongin had had during his travels, but it was different. Not asked for. Out of place. Kim Seungmin belonged to Korea, and the world belonged to Jeongin. They’d had that argument more times than he liked to acknowledge, every last time ending in tense silences and devastation. More often than not he’d flee to wherever his feet carried him, as far away from the other as he could get. He didn’t like to see the tears he brought on, nor could he stand watching Seungmin’s face crumple as he explained as softly as he could the calling in his heart. There was a calling to go. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed it. He’d left in the middle of the night, while the other slept.
And that was why he found himself staring down a misty eyed man in that glass display, face twisting just enough before he shoved the tide down and smoothed his features. The face in the glass did the same. There was no place for that. He moved on.
The second time it came to him, unfair and unwanted, was in a hotel bed in Los Angeles. He was staring up at the shitty popcorn ceiling, begrudging the way the room spun and the sweat stuck to his skin and the shaky ceiling fan above made more noise than it pushed air.
Seungmin .
He wanted to be out, away, but the alcohol had unsteadied his steps too much and he’d retreated to the room stained with cigarette smoke long after it was time. Time always came too soon for him. Time to grow up. Time to settle down. Time to compromise for the sake of the only man who loved him. Time to accept his limitations and watch the streetlights crawl past as the taxi carried the city and its wonders out of reach.
He hadn’t felt that way in the airplane. It had been exciting and adventurous enough to overcome the aftertaste of guilt with every new swallow. He’d been so high in the clouds, letting every shitty memory slide off his skin like water even if it meant drowning the good ones too. Some deeper part of him thought back to his tether, but he’d let the sharp parts that liked to fray the rope twist and toy the way he’d fought against all his life. With no tether in front of him, it didn’t hurt so much to let that happen.
Kim Seungmin belonged to Korea. That much was made evident. He was happy there, in the too-small house with creaky stairs and rusted faucets and a back porch that rotted no matter how many boards they replaced. He was satisfied even when he butted heads with his family, even with the way the summer humidity seemed to swirl into their lungs and choke. He didn’t mind the quiet nor the noise, never felt that inescapable urge to fight both to no avail. He liked driving by their old school, smiling at the paint on the window that had only ever made Jeongin’s gut churn. He liked stopping in the middle of the journey wherever they were going and lifting his face to the sky with his eyes closed, breathing. Jeongin had only ever watched, impatient to hurry up regardless of the destination. He wanted to keep moving.
It wasn’t like there were parts Jeongin never liked. He was fine with watching Seungmin feed the cats off the stoop, even if he’d rather chase them off. He was okay with following Seungmin around the shopping mall like a lost puppy, nodding and smiling at every article of clothing the other held up for review even if he’d never pick it up himself. He liked watching his childhood friend laugh so hard at the show on tv that he snorted up milk, and he liked laughing even harder after that.
But there was more to it that he just couldn’t stand. He could never wrap his head around Seungmin’s satisfaction with whatever the situation was. Even as kids, holed away in the back of the classroom as Jeongin mapped out their great escape with stars in his eyes, Seungmin had always held back. Balked at the impulsively bought plane tickets, stating they should have put the money towards rent. Hesitantly followed Jeongin for a spontaneous night out and pretended he enjoyed letting the night take them wherever. It had hurt. It had hurt that their interests never aligned the way he so desperately hoped they would. Seungmin had never changed, never decided he wanted to stay by Jeongin’s side as he explored the wonders of the world. Seungmin was a boulder, tied to the earth, and Jeongin was a leaf ready to let the wind carry him anywhere but there.
He’d left his phone on the bedside table the night he disappeared. He didn’t need it where he was going.
The third time it came to him he was high in the air, overlooking London from the balcony of a skyscraper. He wasn’t technically supposed to be there, but everything was unlocked during the day and no one had stopped him as he’d slipped in and up. He’d seen a billboard advertising some upcoming baseball game and before he knew it he was reliving days sneaking into the dugout to pass sunflower seeds to his favorite player.
Seungmin.
Seungmin had been the only thing keeping him sane. He’d been there for him when the teachers scolded him for every little thing. He’d held him back countless times while all Jeongin had wanted to do was curl his hands into a fist and drive it into whatever mouth had upset him this time. He’d been the reason he quietly slipped out the window at night, running to the other’s house with tears on his cheeks and a refreshed hatred for everything he knew existed only to spite him. He’d been the reason he’d let his parent’s words wash over him, because no matter how hard they yelled he wasn’t going to like girls and he wasn’t going to change. He’d been the only way he could move out early, settling uncomfortably together into that tiny house that lost its charm after two weeks. He’d held him and loved him even when Jeongin said and did things that weren’t worth loving. He’d possessed the patience Jeongin could only grit his teeth and tolerate.
He’d been irritatingly there for him. When all Jeongin wanted was to run away, Seungmin had always reminded him why he couldn’t. Why his feet were gripped in malicious concrete and set into unmoving ground. Seungmin had tied the two of them together with affectionate whispers and soft kisses that Jeongin only went crazy for while they were right in front of him.
He’d begged. Seungmin had begged for him to settle in. Let himself be tied down even if that meant being tied by the neck and yanked . He’d asked for the impossible knowing damn well Jeongin couldn’t give it to him, and for that he held something shaped like resentment in his heart, even now staring out at the cityscape.
He booked a ticket before he’d even finished the elevator ride down, catching a ride straight to the airport.
The fourth time it came to him, it was his own fault. His thoughts willingly turned to Seungmin as the Edinburgh rain pittered over his umbrella, dampening the sidewalk beneath him and the flowers decorating the sprawling park. There had been this feeling chasing him faster than he could escape, and no matter how many plane rides he’d booked or hotel rooms he retreated to it hung low and heavy in his chest.
He missed Seungmin.
He let the umbrella tilt down as he found a soaked bench to sit on, letting the rain do that which it intended to do as he leaned tiredly against the backrest. He missed Seungmin, and the way his smile always lit up the room like he was the sun himself and all Jeongin could help to do was let himself get sucked in. He missed tender fingers running over his bare shoulders, the gentle caresses that let every worry seep out of him even if it was only for the night. He missed running his hands through that messy bedhead and giggling at the sleepy murmurs he was rewarded with. He missed waking up with someone. He missed waking up with Seungmin .
He missed Seungmin.
He was soaked through now, a slight chill causing his skinny frame to tremble slightly. Delicate fingertips reached up to brush away the fringe dripping rain into his eyes before wiping the wetness from his cheeks. It was replaced immediately. He missed that damned house and the way it kept him and everything he loved safe and dry. He missed that stupid school and the back wall where the source of his infatuation had pressed their lips together for the first time, all soft and sweet like everything could be okay. He missed the oppressive heat and the way the river water sprayed everywhere as he splashed the quiet, cautious boy who suggested they take their swim trunks off and skinny dip.
He missed Seungmin so, so much.
When he got back to his hotel room he showered and dried off, packing his things with an urgency that shook his hands and forced his clothes into the suitcase with unmatched carelessness. He made it as far as the Seoul airport before the sharper parts of him decided he’d never been to Melbourne, and that kind of cowardice cut deeper than he’d ever been cut.
He was in a small town in Okinawa when he realized it had been two years since he’d slipped away in the middle of the night and let the rope that held him untie. He graciously accepted a skewer of meat and peppers from a kindly looking man before setting off into the crowd, the sound of vendors calling for attention and everyday chatter filling his ears. He’d accepted the heaviness that came with wandering now, the weariness that had him settling in for the night long before the sun rose more often than not. He found himself losing interest in the cities he chased after, quietly allowing himself to wonder why he ever thought he liked the too-bright billboards and the annoying honk of horns and the way the grease dripped off the fast food. He moved on to touring towns and countrysides, letting himself find someplace peaceful and lifting his face to the sky with his eyes closed, just breathing. He allowed himself to open up to the people he met, to connect, even if he knew he’d be leaving them behind. His feet stayed on the ground longer, and he shifted in his seat more often as the clouds rushed past him.
As for the nights, he found himself tossing and turning with a new kind of restlessness. He nitpicked at the comforters and eyed the sheets for inconsistencies and turned the pillows over often enough he’d taken to tossing them off the bed instead. Even when he woke up, it wasn’t better. Those first few seconds where he had to remember where he was weren’t exciting anymore. He didn’t like staring at a room someone else decorated for whoever stayed that week, and he hated not knowing the names of the streets he wandered when everything was too much.
He was a new kind of restless, and somehow that was worse. He was way too stubborn to throw in the towel so easily. He wasn’t ready to admit something to himself he refused to put to words. He wanted something he’d always found itchy and restricting but he couldn’t bring himself to reach for it. Not after all the nights he’d spent searching for something he’d never find because it wasn’t there. It was at home, and more likely than not it despised him more than he’d ever despised consistency. He deserved it. He deserved whatever that security felt towards him.
What would he say? That he changed his mind? That all those harsh words and the tears and the disappearances meant nothing anymore? Could he stare down those soft dark eyes and watch them twist in disgust? No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t handle seeing that face without love, even if he’d worked hard for every ounce of hatred he’d put into it. He couldn’t pass by that house knowing he’d never belong there anymore, nor that the arms that lived there would never want him again. They couldn’t, after betrayal like that. They shouldn’t.
He let that thought carry him out of town and down a dusty road, lifting his eyes to the sky and wondering about the others underneath it.
He was outside of Ottawa when he called his parents. The surprise in his mother’s voice made him shy, but the genuine concern that followed it choked him in a way Korea never had. He didn’t talk for nearly as long as he wanted to, didn’t apologize for half the things he should have, and yet his mother hung onto every word like they were breath itself. She told him about everything he’d missed in his absence, laughed with him about family drama and how his aunt could never keep her mouth shut. She told him he had a home if he ever opened his heart to it, and that was the point when he’d been unable to speak through the tears. She’d cooed and comforted him like she never had on nights spent tearing apart and poking at parts of him he’d rather keep hidden, and something about that truly finalized it. He’d ended the call watching the sun sink over the horizon, allowing himself to breathe.
He was in Busan when he left through the door he never thought he’d see again after reconnecting with the faces he used to hope would disappear forever. He’d lied and told them he had somewhere else to stay and they’d accepted it unwillingly, but they’d accepted it.
He didn’t have somewhere to stay, not truly. He didn’t know if his home was home anymore so he avoided every street that led to it even after his feet found the sidewalks of Seoul. He stayed out late, revisiting old memories and letting the fondness sink into his heart again after so many years. When his legs got tired and he decided to stop, his hotel room remained empty while he sat against whatever building he’d ended up by and turned his gaze to the sky. He hoped Seungmin was okay.
He was a few days lingering in Seoul when he found himself walking in a familiar area, unable to take his soft gaze off of the stray cats eating off the stoop. Every muscle in his body screamed at him as he crossed the street toward that damned house, spooking the four-legged locals and causing a few to dart off. One stayed behind, a gray cat he recognized from when he lived here. He was surprised it had stayed so long without moving on.
Tentatively, he reached out towards the cat, sucking in a small breath when a furry head reached up to meet his palm. He kneeled down and let his fingers work over the cat’s head, running along its back and up its tail before starting over again. Some sort of fondness stirred in his chest when the purring began.
“Her name is Pororo,” a voice spoke softly from his left. “Like from the kid’s show.” Jeongin whipped his head up in surprise, eyes widening at the man before him. He seemed taller than ever, even if that was because one of them was kneeling, and his hair seemed lighter than before. He carried a paper bag of groceries with both hands, holding it to his chest and looking for all the world like he needed the support. The look in his eyes was familiar, and the pain and wariness stretching his features were new only in the context. There was no hatred, or malice, or even anger. He looked a little more like he was upset.
“Seungmin,” Jeongin breathed, rising uncertainly. He wanted nothing more than to run at the other man and shower him with all of his love and affection like he’d never been able to during his absence, but Seungmin stayed rooted to the ground and so did he.
“Jeongin,” the other hesitated, fingertips tracing over the bag he held. Then, quietly, he added “it’s been so long.”
Guilt washed over Jeongin’s entire body then, and he grimaced. “Seungmin,” he started, and he hated how his voice trembled before he even got to the hard part. “I’m so sorry. You—you never deserved that. Any of that, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done that to you. You should never be treated like that.”
Seungmin’s face twisted and Jeongin gritted his teeth to stop the way his chest tightened in response. “I… I want to come home, and I understand if you don’t want that but Seungmin I love you so fucking much. I—” Seungmin held a hand up, and he cut himself off.
“Will you stay?” the other asked. Jeongin’s brows raised as his throat closed in disbelief. “W-what?”
“Will you stay,” he repeated as his face shifted into something more determined. More put together.
“Yes,” Jeongin said, standing up straighter. “I’ll stay by your side til death do us part if that’s what it takes, but I’ll stay . I’ll be with you.”
The groceries dropped to the ground and Seungmin stepped over them. Jeongin found himself holding his breath nervously as the other approached, steeling himself for well deserved insults or punches or whatever it took to let Seungmin get it out of his system. Instead arms wrapped around his shoulders and held him tight enough for him to realize that he never wanted them to let go, and he didn’t think he ever had. His arms reached around Seungmin’s back and he held the other close, head resting on his shoulder. “I missed you so much.”
“I thought you died,” Seungmin rushed out, and the shakiness in his voice tore Jeongin’s heart to pieces. The older shifted in closer. “I thought something bad happened and you couldn’t come home to me. I finally reached out to your parents and they told me you left . I can’t believe you left me.”
Sobs started to rack his body, and Jeongin blinked the wetness out of his eyes as he squeezed even tighter. “I’m so sorry baby,” he whispered, and Seungmin buried his head further into the crook of his neck. “I’m such an asshole, I never should have done that to you. You’re my other half and I thought I could do it alone but I realized I never want to be without you again. I want to be with you, Seungmin, I love you.”
“You’re right,” Seungmin sniffled, smacking him halfheartedly. “You are an asshole.” He pulled back but not away, just enough for their eyes to meet. “And you’re gonna have to work really fucking hard to make it up to me.”
“Anything,” Jeongin answered wholeheartedly, and he hoped Seungmin understood just how much he meant it. “I’ll do anything for you.”
He was in the kitchen months later with his love’s arms wrapped around him from behind when it dawned on him. He didn’t know what had taken him so long to realize it, or why he’d spent so long chasing the wrong something. He didn’t know how he could ever hate this house, with its rusts and cracks enveloping the people inside it. He didn’t understand how he was ever annoyed by the creaky stairs when every time he heard them he knew his sweetheart was footsteps away from pouncing on him and showing him what love really feels like. He didn’t know why he was so bothered by the rusty faucets when the two of them spent sleepy mornings together picking out figures in the rust like they were cloud gazing. He even couldn’t fathom ever hating the rotting porch when replacing it with Seungmin led to them laughing together and getting paint on each other's shirts as they teased and kissed.
He didn’t know why it had taken him so long to figure it out, but the feeling he was searching for had never been across the globe. It had never stepped foot outside Korea, and it made sure to be inside the front door every night before six so they could burn dinner together.
The feeling he was searching for was home. It was Seungmin. And every day he made damn sure that Seungmin knew what home felt like too.
---
He ended up proposing in a field of cherry blossoms. Seungmin seemed to always carry this subtle fear that Jeongin would change his mind one day, so he insisted on travelling every so often no matter how hard the younger tried to reassure him. This year they’d gone to Japan, touring the lesser travelled areas and staying in a new place each night. Seungmin had been babbling about some piece of history he’d found online of a landmark he was hoping to see as he stared up into the pink flowery branches above, and Jeongin couldn’t help the warmth rising in his chest as he listened. When Seungmin turned around he’d been on his knee, looking up at him hopefully while he felt like he talked both too much and not enough about his tether. How badly he needed him, and how badly he loved him. He told him he would be satisfied with any destination or rooting place as long as the two of them were side by side for it.
That was when he thought Seungmin finally believed him.