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it’s summer and boiling hot in every corner of the country when hongbin spots taekwoon for the first time since they graduated years earlier - since hongbin had left taekwoon’s apartment with a smile plastered on his face after they had promised they would see each other one last time before taekwoon went off to study in china. they never did.
“hey?,” hongbin says with the same breath he sits down with, hand landing on taekwoon’s wrist by habit, and taekwoon slowly turns his head in hongbin’s direction.
there’s a shallow flash of surprise on his face; his lips parting and eyes widening, a quick twitch of his eyebrows before he speaks.
“hongbin..,” his head tilts and he casts a glance at hongbin’s fingers on his bare wrist before looking back up. “hongbin, you..”
it’s quiet; hongbin doesn’t know what to say any more than taekwoon does, and he studies taekwoon’s face as the slow seconds tick by. his hair is longer, black like before, his features the same, skin maybe a bit more tanned than it was back then; hongbin thinks about waking up in taekwoon’s bed and the sun blaring down at them through the blinds, taekwoon’s skin pale and striped with rays of sun and shadows where the blanket had slid down from being wrapped around to his shoulders. it’s a brief flash of memory, but hongbin has to blink and leave his eyes closed for a second before pulling himself back together to speak.
“how have you been?”
-
taekwoon has been well - has been amazing - and they move from the coffee shop to a bar while taekwoon tells hongbin about chengdu and kunming and the year he spent in hong kong, talks about victoria city with a dreamy voice that hongbin had missed much more than he had imagined. they don’t get halfway through hongbin explaining how he moved around the country before taekwoon’s arm is back right where it used to be, around hongbin’s waist with his hand resting on the side of hongbin’s thigh. it’s familiar and comforting but still so strange; taekwoon doesn’t smell the same, his thumb doesn’t bend over the top of his thigh like it used to and his hair brushes against hongbin’s neck much further down than before, tickling just above the hem of his t-shirt.
he doesn’t say anything because it’s trivial, and it’s dumb; it’s been ages and hongbin is sure he doesn’t smell the same either, is sure taekwoon notices how his hair is buzzed in the back of his neck and dyed a lighter brown, and how he leans back in the seat in their booth rather than into taekwoon’s shoulder.
things don’t have to stay the same, but taekwoon’s lips kiss his jaw just like he remembers, just briefly and just the warmth of them passing over his skin while hongbin asks if he wants to stay over at his place - the friend he mentioned he was staying with lives much farther away - and taekwoon accepts with the same breathy laughter he had muffled against hongbin’s neck the last time they made coffee together.
—
some things have remained just the way they left them, like how hongbin straddles taekwoon’s lap in his bed as taekwoon’s hands reach up under his clothes to get them off and discard them to the side. hongbin isn’t as drunk as he’d like to think and it becomes clear to him when taekwoon cups his face and kisses him, the sides of their noses touching, the tip of taekwoon’s brushing against his cheek, and hongbin’s heart pounds three beats at once. there’s an endless urge for more tugging at his chest and he can’t seem to cover taekwoon’s skin in enough gentle strokes of his hands and brushes of his lips, and he isn’t sure if the alcohol or how the suppressed longing is gushing over him in waves is to blame, but taekwoon isn’t complaining, and hongbin isn’t about to either.
taekwoon’s hands still know him better than any and they pull him closer and push at him just like hongbin remembers - despite how there have been other hands in between, rougher ones and ones that treated him like he was fragile and breaking, ones that didn’t know how to hold him by the back of his neck or how to settle right on the small of his back.
“we really shouldn’t,” taekwoon whispers into his neck, softly and tinged with laughter at the end when hongbin presses closer.
“i know,” hongbin mutters, fingers sliding into taekwoon’s hair and tilting his head to the side as his lips trace the skin below his hairline. “do you wanna stop?”
thumbs hooking in the elastic hem of hongbin’s briefs; stopping there while taekwoon pushes his nose at hongbin’s clavicle to urge him to lean back and let taekwoon press a kiss to his chest before he shakes his head, looks up at him.
“you?”
hongbin doesn’t.
—-
the sun peering in through hongbin’s window in the morning has taekwoon seem just as pale as he was years ago, and hongbin tucks his head in under taekwoon’s chin to pull in a deep breath of his scent before he falls back asleep.
——
“i’m going back to hong kong tomorrow,” taekwoon says over the brim of his teacup when they see each other again the next week, and hongbin thinks he probably knew already, but he didn’t want to.
“for another couple of years, or?,” he asks with a smile, and taekwoon smiles back; but it falters too early for hongbin’s comfort, and so the longing settles in his chest again.
“just a couple of months, i think,” and his feet brush against hongbin’s under the table, locking their ankles together. “i’ll let you know when i get back. i mean, if you wanna see me.”
hongbin wants to say that, of course he does, but he just nods and stirs his coffee; glance falling down on the black liquid and the stray bubbles following the movements of his spoon.
before his plane takes off, taekwoon texts hongbin and asks him not to change his number before he gets back, and hongbin grins as he promises not to.
——-
(wonsik is a short chapter, one that barely lasts until winter. through a mutual friend of another friend - something like that - wonsik appears at a gig hongbin hadn’t originally planned to go to, and they leave early with wonsik’s canteen of absinthe passing between their cold hands and hongbin’s right hand sliding down the small of wonsik’s back. their kisses are messy and hurried and hongbin misses out on the artwork that is wonsik’s chaos of an apartment as they stumble over each other towards wonsik’s bed.
his bedroom is the worst; crowded with paintings and tubes of acrylic and oil colors, desk buried under notes and everything from old laptops to external hard drives and sets of headphones all spotted with paint. one of the drawers has been lifted down onto the floor, and hongbin spends his morning cup of coffee sitting by it and going through the assorted brushes and pens. while wonsik settles behind him and noses at the back of his neck, playing with his hair, hongbin lazily sorts them after color and size.
they don’t do much but lie around on each other’s beds and couches - wonsik writing and sketching, hongbin daydreaming and tracing every crease he can find on wonsik’s skin with the blunt edges of his nails - but it’s comfortable, and hongbin enjoys comfortable. wonsik thinks a lot and they spend hours talking, smoking cigarettes together as they spill existentialism and various surreal trains of thought over each other. while wonsik can talk about psychology until hongbin can’t differ one word from the other anymore, hongbin likes to rest his head on wonsik’s bare chest and talk about the unexplained, about other life forms and otherworldly forces, while wonsik listens quietly and strokes his hair.
it’s a morning in early november when hongbin catches himself thinking about taekwoon when wonsik wraps an arm around him from behind and kisses his neck, and he realizes that this won’t work.)
———
“these are good,” taekwoon mumbles, lying on his stomach, splayed over hongbin’s bed as he picks at the sketches on the nightstand.
hongbin hums and moves down to let his chest press against taekwoon’s back, chin on taekwoon’s shoulder while he watches him eyeing the scribbles on the papers in his hand.
“wonsik made them,” he says and leans his head against taekwoon’s, fingers lightly running up the expanse of his arm. “i like them.”
“hm,” taekwoon replies fleetingly and puts the top paper down to look at the next one, fingertip tracing the lines of a cityscape while hongbin presses a kiss to his neck.
“coffee?”
“yeah,” taekwoon turns his head this time, smiling softly and blinking as a strand of hair falls into his eyes. “i’d like that.”
———-
eventually, taekwoon settles; a few towns over but it’s not too far, and even if months pass as hongbin travels or taekwoon goes away for work, hongbin keeps finding himself on taekwoon’s couch reading book after book from his shelves.
taekwoon is more into the paranormal and unexplained than wonsik was (though a bit less than sanghyuk, but hongbin can admit that even he isn’t as wrapped up in it as sanghyuk was), and while hongbin has read most of those books already, he likes going through taekwoon’s side notes and tracing the stained impressions of coffee cups while he’s reading. he misses it when he’s gone, when taekwoon leaves the country for another six-or-so months and when hongbin meets someone else - another short chapter in his book - and goes interrailing from one end of the country to another.
————
(jaehwan falls hard and hongbin does too; can’t keep himself from stroking jaehwan’s hair as he sleeps and kissing him awake in the mornings, while jaehwan always smiles the brightest of smiles and kisses hongbin until he’s lightheaded. they eat pizza at 3 am on a motel bed, walk from one town to the other on a sunny day, and at one point find hongbin’s bag stolen overnight from a shared hostel room. jaehwan soothes hongbin’s anxiety with whispered words as he holds him against his chest, hand slowly running up and down hongbin’s spine, and once again hongbin finds himself thinking about taekwoon.
this short chapter is the hardest to end, and after sucking up every hurt word jaehwan had told him and apologizing - whishing to himself he never would have gotten jaehwan into this - hongbin doesn’t see taekwoon for weeks despite how his thumb keeps hovering over the call button on taekwoon’s number at night when he’s cold and alone.)
————-
“there’s something i need to tell you,” taekwoon leans into hongbin’s shoulder as they smoke on the balcony, and hongbin’s mouth is numb with alcohol, fingers fumbling as he keeps fingering at loose threads on the sleeve of one of taekwoon’s old flannels.
“yeah,” hongbin hums and shrugs, glancing at taekwoon before watching as the ashes he flicked off his cigarette sail down towards the street.
“i’ve been seeing this person in hong kong,” taekwoon says quietly, and hongbin thinks he has known this all along as well. taekwoon knows about wonsik and jaehwan, has known all along, but taekwoon himself doesn’t talk much.
“thought so,” he smiles - just a bit bitter, but taekwoon can’t tell. “for long?”
taekwoon shrugs, pulls a drag from the cigarette and chews on his bottom lip before letting the smoke pass from between his lips. there’s an itch in hongbin’s wrists reaching all the way out to his fingertips, and he can’t decide if he wants to dig his fingernails into his palm or hold taekwoon’s hand in his own.
“are we still okay?”
he glances back at taekwoon, cheeks as well as the tip of his nose bitten rosy with the winter winds and his hair still long, still falling into his eyes. the other looks up at him in silence, big eyes studying hongbin as they stand quietly for a minute. wild tugging in hongbin’s chest; violent like that longing gushing over him, and he flicks his cigarette away to wrap his hand around the back of taekwoon’s neck and kiss him.
they’re both shivering cold even when they’re back inside, but taekwoon’s hands still struggle to undo the buttons on hongbin’s shirt between kisses and hongbin fumbles quietly with the zipper of taekwoon’s jeans before they climb onto taekwoon’s bed. they have all the time in the world - or something close to it - but it still ends up hurried and messy, hongbin with damp strands of hair sticking to his face as he buries it in taekwoon’s chest, taekwoon with strained gasps and nails digging into hongbin’s thighs with every thrust of his hips. at times they slow the pace down for a second; when hongbin turns his head up to fit their mouths together and his hands come up to cup taekwoon’s face, his thumbs slipping over his skin and them both stifling their laughter before taekwoon presses in closer and slips his tongue into hongbin’s mouth.
hongbin takes long minutes to regain his breath after, lies on his back with a leg pulled up and one hand fitted into taekwoon’s mussed up hair. after pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, taekwoon kicks the blanket down and pulls hongbin into his chest, fingers running up the expanse of his naked stomach as they study the ceiling together.
there’s a merciless pull in hongbin’s chest whenever his eyes flicker down to taekwoon’s fingertips on his skin, and all he can think of is how he wants taekwoon even closer, in his hands and under his lips, until he’s all hongbin can feel and taste. maybe it’s the beer, hongbin thinks, but then again it probably isn’t.
“we’re still okay,” taekwoon whispers after a while, pushing his nose into hongbin’s hair and shutting his eyes, eyelashes fluttering against hongbin’s cheek. “if you want.”
the unspoken “i’m in love with you” hangs heavy in the air, like it has for years, but hongbin is starting to believe they might not really need it.
—————