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Seungmin sits at his dinner table on a Thursday night, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’s been working around-the-clock on a difficult case, and the weekend can’t come soon enough.
At that moment, Seungmin hears a knock on his door, a quick, erratic rhythm. He frowns as he languorously stands up from his chair. He hadn’t been expecting visitors, and regardless he’s not sure why anyone would be stopping by this late at night. Wearily, robotically, he opens the door. Who he sees on the other side is enough to send a bolt of electricity running through his system as his back straightens and his eyes sharpen with adrenaline and anticipation.
“Hyunjin,” Seungmin breathes. For all the time Hyunjin has spent in Seungmin’s apartment, he has always arrived accompanied by Seungmin—he has never visited on his own like this before. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Seoul, closing out your contract negotiations?”
Seungmin peers closely at Hyunjin. He looks jittery, uncertain. It’s an unfamiliar expression on a familiar face and doesn’t really suit the aristocratic planes of Hyunjin’s features.
“Can I come in?” Hyunjin pleads by way of a response.
Hyunjin is avoiding the question, but Seungmin has always had a difficult time saying no to Hyunjin; in fact, that’s what got him into this mess in the first place. Instead, Seungmin steps aside, allowing Hyunjin to enter the apartment. In the entryway, Hyunjin slips off his shoes and reaches for his usual slippers on the top shelf of Seungmin’s shoe closet—they’re dusty, but his all the same. Seungmin idly wonders what it says about him that he keeps a pair of slippers for someone who is almost never around.
Seungmin pulls out the chair opposite his at the dinner table and gestures at Hyunjin to take a seat. Hyunjin wobbles a little as he sits down, letting out a shaky exhale.
“I was talking to Jisung,” Hyunjin mentions as a conversation opener.
“Okay,” Seungmin responds. This is hardly notable, Jisung is the only person other than Seungmin who can lay claim to the title of Hyunjin’s best friend, the two of them operating so much so on the same emotional wavelength that Seungmin thinks Jisung can probably understand Hyunjin in a way that Seungmin will never be able to.
“Jisung asked me if there was anything going on between us.” Hyunjin has a wry tilt to his lips and lets out a dry chuckle, but it’s not a joke. “I tried to deny it, but my sputtering and blushing gave me away. I think he already knew the answer, anyway,” Hyunjin continues. For the first time that day, Hyunjin looks straight into Seungmin’s eyes, gaze evaluating, piercing. Did you tell him? the question from Hyunjin goes unsaid.
Seungmin flushes, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to let him know,” Seungmin murmurs, more to himself than to Hyunjin, his eyes downcast and fixated on his folded hands. “He and Minho hyung kept trying to set me up with one of Minho hyung’s work friends. I kept saying no, but you know how persistent they can be.” Seungmin pauses. “Anyway, three bottles of soju in they managed to get me to admit that we’ve been sleeping together for years.” Out of frustration, or maybe tiredness, Seungmin laughs self-deprecatingly. “It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? Turning people down because I’m in a casual friends-with-benefits relationship with my childhood best friend, who is a famous idol singer?”
When he looks back up at Hyunjin, the first thought that crosses his mind is that Hyunjin looks hurt, although Seungmin can’t fathom why.
“Is that how I make you feel?” Hyunjin asks quietly, hunching in on himself. “Pathetic?”
Seungmin sighs, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t feel pathetic all the time, and I don’t only feel pathetic. But I’d be lying if I said no.”
Hyunjin worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I never wanted to make you feel that way,” voice small.
Seungmin waves away the discussion dismissively with his hand. They’ve never talked about their relationship or the implications of their relationship, let alone how it makes Seungmin feel, and Seungmin sees little point starting now.
Hyunjin narrows his eyes at Seungmin, looking slightly annoyed, but Hyunjin lets the moment pass.
“Anyway,” Hyunjin picks up the conversational thread as if the intervening exchange had never even happened, “Jisung told me especially with my contract coming up to think deeply about what you mean to me and what I want from you.”
The first thought Seungmin has is, oh. Oh. So, this is why Hyunjin is showing up at Seungmin’s doorstep in Gwangyang in the middle of the night when he’s supposed to be finalizing his contract in Seoul. The second thought he has is, why is Jisung being so meddlesome?
“Seungmin,” Hyunjin says, tenderly, desperately, confidently, reaching a hand across the table to cup Seungmin’s cheek. “Seungmin, ask me to stay. Ask me to stay and I will. I’ll walk away from all of this for you. Just ask me to stay.”
Hyunjin’s unexpected, unprecedented vulnerability and honesty crash into Seungmin’s carefully built façade like a tidal wave. The emotions Seungmin has spent years suppressing overflow, bubbling up to the surface, and Seungmin thinks he will be crushed in the undertow. His mouth feels dry, numb, stuffed with cotton as if he has just gone to the dentist. “No, Hyunjin, no. I want you to stay, but I can’t ask you to stay. I won’t ask you to stay. I don’t want you to throw away your dream just like this for me.” It sounds a little like pride, and a lot like love.
Hyunjin shakes his head, exasperated and emotional. “Minnie, don’t you understand? You are my dream. I wanted to be an idol because you wanted to be an idol. Sure, between the two of us I was the one who made it, became a household name—but it always felt incomplete, hollow without you there by my side. Becoming an idol doesn’t mean anything if you’re not there.”
Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “I get homesick for a lot of reasons, but mainly because of you. I hope you’ll forgive me that I’ve never said it before in as many words, but Kim Seungmin, I love you.”
The declaration isn’t a surprise, exactly, but it catches Seungmin off guard all the same. Between the two of them, Seungmin definitely isn’t the crier, but unexpectedly Seungmin finds himself trembling, the sensation of wet and salty tears rolling down his cheeks. “Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” Hyunjin asks, raising his voice, challenging. “Why can’t I say it when it’s true?”
“Because it will make it that much harder for me when you have to leave!” Seungmin replies. Before Hyunjin can protest, Seungmin barrels on. “And realistically speaking, you will have to. We talked about this already. Say you quit. You’ve spent your entire adolescence and adulthood training or being an idol, and you’ve become quite good at it. What else would you do? What else could you do? And what about the drama that you’re excited about doing?”
“Stop hiding behind what’s realistic just because you’re afraid,” Hyunjin hisses. “I’ve thought about it, and it’s not like I’m locked in to stay an idol forever. I could choreograph, maybe, or become a visual artist. I could go back to school and become an interior designer. I have options.”
“But none of them are as much of a sure bet as you staying in the entertainment industry,” Seungmin counters.
“In fact, I came up to Seoul to celebrate your birthday with the intention of ending this thing between us,” Seungmin confesses. Hyunjin’s expression collapses upon itself. “Hyunjin, I’m just holding you back! You said it yourself that the reason why you can’t be fully present in Seoul is because of me. This way we can both finally move on.”
Instead, Hyunjin stands up, leaning across the table to give Seungmin a kiss on the mole on his cheek, the sweetness counteracting the bitterness of Seungmin’s tears. “I know you love me too,” he murmurs. “Ask me to stay. We can take on anything as long as it’s together.”
“I can’t,” Seungmin replies.
***
Seungmin is slacking off at work the following Monday when Jisung sends him a text. “Have you seen this???” followed by a link to a Naver article. Seungmin frowns and clicks on it.
The article title makes his heart drop.
“HWANG HYUNJIN, MEMBER OF STRAY KIDS, DECIDES NOT TO RENEW HIS CONTRACT AND WILL BE LEAVING THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY.”
***
Even though he’s on the clock, Seungmin rides the elevator up to the rooftop of the law firm and calls Hyunjin right away. After two rings, Hyunjin picks up. “Hello?”
“Are you out of your mind?” Seungmin yells at Hyunjin. “I told you not to do it for me!”
“No, I’m not out of my mind,” Hyunjin replies, cold as ice. “And I heard you loud and clear that night. I don’t know if it was fear, pride, or something else, but you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, show me the same vulnerability I showed you. No, I walked away from contract negotiations because irrespective of you, or what you think, I realized that I wanted something different for myself. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”
***
Seungmin returns to his office, his emotional landscape turbulent, making him shaky and unfocused. He tries his best to keep it together and act normal, and he’s mostly successful, he thinks—although he does sense some puzzled, concerned glances directed towards him from his co-workers.
When Seungmin returns to his apartment, he collapses onto his couch, the ashen taste of regret thick on his tongue. He still stands by his decision—still thinks he should have put Hyunjin’s needs before his own—but Hyunjin’s reaction has him second-guessing himself, wondering if he’s done the right thing. Wondering if he’d read the situation all wrong.
***
Seungmin calls in sick the next day. It’s a testament to his stellar work attendance that nobody gives him pushback for taking time off.
Seungmin may be an adult, but there will always be a little part of him that is an annoying, coddled younger brother to his older sister. A full seven years older than him, she is somewhere between a mother figure and a sibling.
Playing the annoying younger brother card, he sends a whiny text to her about how he’s not feeling well.
A couple hours later, he hears a knock at his door. “Seungmin-ah, open up,” his sister calls.
“Noona!” He greets her cheerfully, excited to see his older sister.
“I’m here on my lunch break, so I can only stay for an hour. I brought samgyetang to warm you up. Do you have a fever?” She purses her lips, concerned, as she brings a hand up to his forehead to check his temperature.
“It’s, ah, more of a mental health break,” Seungmin admits.
His sister nods, navigating his kitchen to set out two bowls of piping hot samgyetang on the table. “You deserve a break. You’ve been working overtime a lot for that case you’re on.”
Seungmin clears his throat. “Yeah.” Let her think that that’s what’s bothering him.
When they sit down across the table from each other, his sister comments offhand, “I read that Hyunjin decided not to renew his contract or sign with another agency. Did you hear about this?”
Seungmin nods, mouth dry. “Jisung sent me the Naver article.”
Casually, his sister continues, “Some people are speculating that he quit because he wanted to be able to be in a relationship out in the open. Fans are digging up clips where it seems like he was tired of the lack of privacy in the entertainment industry.”
“Noona!” Seungmin replies, scandalized. “What are you doing reading online gossip about Hyunjin? You know him!”
His sister swivels to look at him, clinical. “Well, it’s not like I can count on my dongsaeng to tell me what’s going on truthfully.”
The conversation has a lull for a beat as Seungmin processes what his sister said. Slowly, he looks up from his food at his sister, careful to keep his expression a practiced nonchalant. There’s a knowing glint in the corner of her eye that he wonders how he missed before.
Still, he feigns ignorance. “What do you mean?”
“Kim Seungmin,” she says sternly.
“Yes, noona,” he responds.
“You haven’t dated anyone in years, not since college. Whenever you mention that Hyunjin is in Gwangyang, you’re always mysteriously holed up in your apartment for days. Now,” she looks thoughtful, “I concede that this is hardly concrete evidence, but you have to admit that the circumstantial evidence is somewhat suspicious, no?”
When Seungmin doesn’t really respond, she sighs. “I’m sorry for being pushy. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I’m always here if you decide you want to talk, and I love and support you no matter what.”
Seungmin tries to swallow the lump in his throat that feels a lot like tears and gratitude. “I know, noona.”
His sister puts away the bowls and utensils in the sink and then strides over to the couch, patting the space next to her. Seungmin sits down and rests on her shoulder, feeling her card her hands through his hair. “My responsible, selfless dongsaeng,” she murmurs.
Seungmin closes his eyes, lost in the sensation of twisting patterns across his scalp. He’s traversing the liminal space between awake and asleep when he feels his sister stand up, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’ve given up so much already,” he hears his sister musing, just a hint of sadness to her voice. “Seungmin-ah, I just wish you would let yourself be happy.”
***
Seungmin knows his sister didn’t really mean for him to hear her comment, but her words linger with him, reverberating in the echo chamber of his mind. He wonders if it was fear that made him say no to Hyunjin, wonders if he’s gotten so used to being a martyr that he’s turned it into a character trait.
He eventually resolves to talk to Hyunjin again. Before everything else, they were best friends first, and he’s loath to let that phone call be their last conversation together, if this indeed is the end.
Late on a Sunday morning, he makes his way over to Hyunjin’s family apartment. He knocks smartly on the door with more certitude than he’s feeling, heart beating to an uptempo song.
The door opens, and he is greeted by Hyunjin’s mother. “Oh hello, Seungmin!” she smiles kindly. “We weren’t expecting you! How have you been?” Seungmin spent so much time over at Hyunjin’s house growing up that she’s almost become a second mother, and even now, she always takes time to check up on how he’s doing whenever they run into each other around town.
“Good,” he replies, smile mirroring hers. “I was wondering if Hyunjin was home.”
“He is, let me get him. Come inside,” she gestures warmly. Seungmin hears her padding through the apartment, calling Hyunjin. “Hyunjin-ah! Seungmin is here to see you!”
A couple minutes later, Hyunjin appears, wearing a minimalistic black sweatshirt with black training pants.
“Hey,” Seungmin says. It’s a lame conversation opener that can’t possibly capture the years of history and emotion between them, but he helplessly can’t think of anything else.
“Hey,” Hyunjin replies. His expression is guarded, indecipherable, and Seungmin aches, because normally Hyunjin is so expressive, so easy to read, or maybe it’s because Seungmin has spent so much time thumbing through the pages. Either way, Seungmin wonders if he’s too late, if Hyunjin is masking his emotions like this.
“I was thinking we could head over to that park by your house and talk,” Seungmin states, although it comes out sounding more like a question with the way Seungmin’s voice lilts upward at the end.
“Okay,” Hyunjin agrees.
They ride the elevator down and then walk to the park in silence, the tension palpable between them. After they sit down on a park bench, Hyunjin turns to face Seungmin and blurts out, “I’m sorry.”
Seungmin blinks at Hyunjin, surprised. This wasn’t where he thought the conversation was going.
“I realized what I asked of you that night was unfair. I shouldn’t have forced you to make such a big decision about my life. I think I was hoping that you would provide me the rationale to quit that I couldn’t provide myself at the time.” Hyunjin hangs his head. “I should have reached out first to apologize, but I felt ashamed.” Hyunjin looks up at Seungmin, eyes pleading.
“Don’t worry,” Seungmin comforts, “I forgive you.”
Tears well up in Hyunjin’s eyes, and he uses his sweater paws to bat away at them, vexed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying,” Hyunjin sniffles. “I think I was just afraid that I lost you for real this time. Hearing you talk about feeling pathetic, about planning to break things off between us, I thought, even Seungmin has finally reached his limit. Add on top of that how bratty I was on that phone call and—”
Seungmin gently intertwines their fingers, rubbing comforting circles into Hyunjin’s skin. “I’ll always be here for you for as long as you want me,” Seungmin murmurs, hoping that this time he can be brave for Hyunjin.
“I wanted to apologize too,” Seungmin confesses. “I partly said no because I didn’t want you to throw your career away for me, but there was a part of me that was afraid, too. I was afraid to let you in, knowing that all the times before you would just go again.”
Seungmin takes a deep breath. “I think, too, I wanted so desperately to prove to myself that I didn’t need you to complete me, that I had a full life without you. And that’s true, but it’s also true that I’d be happier with you. That I’m happiest with you.”
Hyunjin looks at Seungmin, eyelashes fluttering prettily against his cheekbones. “So where do we go from here?”
Seungmin thinks back to all the times they’ve been together before, at the pride and passivity that stopped him from saying what he’s about to say next. “I know the transition won’t be easy,” Seungmin admits, “but I want you to stay. I want you to be mine.”
Hyunjin grins, a feline curl to his lips as he leans in, gently brushing his lips against Seungmin’s. “I can do that. If it’s you, I can do anything.”
As the plum blossoms bloom all around them, Seungmin thinks about how he had read once that plum blossoms herald the coming of spring. For once, what he has with Hyunjin doesn’t feel temporary, doesn’t feel like it has to be hidden behind closed doors, but instead can come into the light. A new beginning, Seungmin thinks.