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The familiar hum of a coffee machine hard at work makes Matthew’s stomach loosen a bit as he walks through the welcoming doors of what he considers to be his second home. There's a small middle-aged lady slightly tilted over the front counter, wiping down the marbled tabletop with a pinch in her brows. The sight brings a smile to Matthew’s face, and he laughs softly at her antics in hopes of getting her attention. When she turns and waves at him with a knowing look in her eyes, Matthew feels safe enough to sit down by the window. Usually, he sits far in the back of restaurants, hating the feeling of eyes on him when he’s outside, but Hanbin always enjoyed being able to look outside when they were conversing.
Sung Hanbin was an enigma of a man that he met a long, long time ago. At the time, Matthew was still a fresh-faced, naive trainee with traces of Canada all over his face and his attitude. He tried to socialize as much as possible with his limited Korean, but the other kids often saw him as competition instead of a friend, so he had given up on being the company's best friend and focused on his survival. He remembers the first time he saw Sung Hanbin; it was too early in the morning for either of them to be awake, and Matthew had something akin to the ‘worst night of his life’ before he set out to the dance studio. He had been feeling sluggish, walking down the similar path of the hallways with his eyes closed, frown pulled down on his face, and his mind thrumming through all the possible ways he could just…give up.
He remembers seeing a peek of the boy, practicing some type of contemporary piece by himself in the sanction of a dimly lit practice room, sweat pooling under his black cap. There was something so graceful, so lovely, about Sung Hanbin’s moves that Matthew found himself staying there for hours, crouched on the floor as he watched Hanbin twirl, jump, and slide everywhere he went. He was like an angel, Matthew thought to himself, heart lost somewhere in his chest and breath stuck so deeply in his throat that he hoped Hanbin would find him and give him CPR.
He remembers the restriction in his chest getting tighter and tighter when Hanbin does find him, but nothing defensive about the way he smiled at Matthew and introduced himself. It’s nice to meet you, Hanbin repeated twice, a little breathless but all teeth in his smile, slowing down the second time as he watches the way Matthew’s eyebrows creased the first time. Right back at you, Matthew had said with a finger gun pointed at Hanbin’s (stupidly large, Matthew noted) chest, suddenly flushing at how foreign he sounded. If Hanbin felt offended by the pure unprofessionalism the younger had shown him in ten seconds, he doesn't mention it. If Matthew notices the way Hanbin softly laughs to himself with his head down after their interaction, he doesn't mention it. If the atmosphere feels suddenly a little more awkward; the air feeling tenser with every deep inhale, as they both stretch on opposite sides of the studio, both suddenly more awake compared to twenty minutes beforehand, they don’t mention it.
Getting close to Sung Hanbin had been a lot easier than Matthew intended it to be. He was popular in the studio; all the students and mentors attached themselves to the man as if he was a beaming light and they were curious moths. Despite this, Hanbin always made time for the younger whenever Matthew asked for him. Now that Matthew thinks about it, that must have been a sign of something, right? The way Hanbin would leave his students whenever Matthew had an issue of his own, helping him as fast as he could as if he couldn't bear the idea of disappointing Matthew. Something deep inside the younger man knew that he felt the same way.
They spent multiple months just being something that people label as ‘acquaintances.’ If you asked Matthew, he already considered them to be best friends. He had never had anyone so willing to help him as Hanbin and none of his school friends had ever tried to cheer him up as much as Sung Hanbin had. If anything, Matthew found it a lot easier to find happiness in his days after meeting Hanbin. Although he didn't want to admit that the older boy had anything to do with it, he knew it was true, and that it was probably worse than anyone could possibly imagine. Because he didn't just admire Sung Hanbin, no–he was in love with Sung Hanbin. To Matthew, if he died before ever getting to kiss Hanbin, he thinks he would die with lifelong regrets that would reach over his life and haunt him even in the dead.
Somewhere between Sung Hanbin’s caring actions towards him and the authoritative tone that he used with Matthew (which was also the same tone he used with the students under the age of eleven) and the sweet desserts he would bring Matthew during the early hours of their shared dark mornings, he found his heart doubling in size and making a hole shaped like Hanbin’s perfect self. Somewhere between the jokes, the smiles, and Hanbin’s stupid habit of touching Matthew’s shoulders, he felt himself seeking the boy’s affection. He found himself caring about what Hanbin thought of him. He wanted to make Hanbin proud, wanted him to hug him tight after a specifically good practice day, he wanted to feel the warmth that Hanbin always put out. At the risk of sounding evil and selfish, he wanted that feeling to be for him only.
That’s why, after many nights of hard contemplation, tears, panic, and maybe a few too many cups of coffee, he convinces himself that confessing to Sung Hanbin was the only way he was going to get over this hurdle in his life. He tussles with the bird's nest in his hair as he thinks about their friendship, the way Hanbin holds him as if he was precious and (holy shit he was going to die) lovely. If he was rejected–he promptly ignores the way his fingers did tighten their hold on his third coffee cup at the thought of the possibility–he would be able to move on and recover their friendship and he wouldn't have to carry the burden of never even taking the chance with the latter. If he was accepted–a vomit-inducing thought–then something would happen. Probably. Possibly. Something like being really, really, close. Something like, perhaps, speaking in general terms, kissing, and going on dates and holding each other close at night and– He sets his cup in the sink and smashes into his couch cushion face first before he can finish his own thought. Yeah, sure. Confess to Sung Hanbin. That’s easy enough. After that, he’ll shake hands with the prime minister of South Korea.
Unfortunately, Matthew never had luck when it came to…anything in life. Although he was around Hanbin almost every day, he never got the chance to bring up his feelings to him. There was always someone around, something distracting one of them, or the conversation setting was simply not right. Matthew thinks of confessing to Sung Hanbin one night, while they're both sitting on the cold floor of Hanbin’s new apartment, a little bit of alcohol buzzing through their system as they eat their dinner. He had been thinking of it all night, and the way Hanbin kept on smiling at him had been driving him up a wall. To say he felt fucking crazy would have been an understatement.
He felt the words on his tongue, a long, well-thought-out speech that he had prepared weeks ago ready to spill out of his tongue right at that moment–” You know,” A soft voice cuts him out of his inner battle, and he flinches to look up at Hanbin. The boy had his bottom lip in between his teeth, chewing at them gently with an embarrassed expression. By the time Matthew’s guard goes down, Hanbin is opening his (rather beautiful) mouth once again, “I think you’re honestly, like–wonderful, Matthew…” His tone is heavy with something unfamiliar, and a part of Matthew wonders, how the hell am I getting rejected already when he doesn't even know–?
Hanbin clears his throat, abandoning his chopsticks in favor of looking the younger boy in the eyes. Matthew raises an eyebrow in what he hopes comes off as encouragement and not desperation for something, anything. “I just… god, I’m really bad at this.” He runs a hand through his hair, Matthew getting a peak at the way Hanbin’s face had become a light shade of pink before the brown strands fell flat on his forehead once more. “It’s okay,” Matthew says, not really believing himself, “I’m here for you.” At least that made Hanbin’s shoulders ease up a little.
What he hadn't expected was for Hanbin to let out a loud groan before he gripped the younger by his hoodie and smashed their lips together. What. What…the fuck. Hey… WHAT!
Matthew instinctively pulled off, although he regretted it right after seeing Hanbin’s horrified expression. “Wait,” Matthew says quickly, holding out a hand as Hanbin tries to scoot away from him. “Wait, wait wait,” He chants quietly, his eyes feeling like they’re going to bulge out of his head as he tries to process WHAT THE FUCK! Sung Hanbin had just done. For a fleeting moment he thought, Is this it? Is this my…’possible’ moment?
“Why’d you…do that?” Matthew pants out, his vocabulary seeming to fail him now when he needs it the most. Hanbin seems just as embarrassed and panicked as him as he rubs his entire face until it is visibly red. “I’m not mad!” The younger rushes out to say, his fingers gripping Hanbin’s forearm. “I’m…I’m okay…with that. But, why?” There’s a slight shakiness between them, and for a moment all that can be heard is their breathing before Hanbin lets out a small chuckle. Matthew feels the exhale on his cheek and suddenly realizes how stupidly close he had gotten.
“I just think you’re wonderful.” It comes out as a whisper, raw and probably way too honest sounding, but neither of them care. Matthew felt something stinging his eyes and his nasal airways as he nodded thoughtfully. “I think you’re wonderful, too.” His tone is as gentle as Hanbin’s always is–so uncharacteristically Matthew that he could almost feel the way Hanbin stops breathing correctly for a second. Before he can think of anything else, he pushes himself forward and lets his lips fall on Hanbin’s once more and promptly ignores the terrible tightness in his stomach of– oh my god, I think I'm killing myself after this.
That’s how they spend the rest of their night, on Hanbin’s floor with nothing but a blanket over the two of them as a stupid romcom movie plays on the television, neither of them paying attention as they shamelessly stare at each other and share tender, secret kisses between the two of them. This, Matthew thinks, is all he’s ever wanted.
It has been almost a year of them being…close. Although they had shared more fleeting kisses, candle-lit dinners, and longing gazes, they never made anything official. Matthew knows that whatever he has with Sung Hanbin is an exclusive, two-person thing. Despite this understanding and trust, Matthew had stopped them from going any further. Whenever Hanbin’s hands would go too low on his stomach, he was the first one to pull away. When either of them would let out a noise too embarrassing to even think about while kissing, he was the first to excuse himself. All these times, Hanbin hadn’t shown any sign of annoyance with Matthew. He just kind of smiled and waited for him. That word alone made something insane and difficult to digest pull at Matthew’s insides. Close. Close. Close. It’s okay. I’ll wait for you. I love you. Sometimes Matthew wished he’d whisper those words to him as they lay together at night, restless from nerves and something small in his chest that just blooms in the warmth that is Sung Hanbin.
Of course, Matthew had feared whatever was going on between them. Sung Hanbin was older (albeit by a year, but what if that year was all the time, he needed to become a sex god?) and more experienced when it came to love, but Matthew didn't see what could be so hard about it. If you love someone, shouldn't it be easy to show them how much you love them? Well, yes. But for Matthew, it got a little more complicated when it came to being physical. What if he just didn't want to ruin it for Hanbin? What if in between the handholding and the virgin kissing Hanbin realizes that— holy shit— Matthew was a complete loser. Would he stop being so… close?
To him, it was enough to love Sung Hanbin this way and to be loved by the man this way. It didn't compare to being loved by a girl; Matthew preferred this way more. But his fear was inevitable. He couldn't kiss Sung Hanbin outside or call him honey in public as he did in the privacy of their room. To him, that was okay. Being afraid was okay because it was normal. If being afraid meant that he could stave off hurting Sung Hanbin and his public reputation, then so be it. He’ll be petrified for all he cares. He just wants to keep the safe feeling he gets in Hanbin’s arms to himself. Was that so bad?
A ring of the small bell latched over the entrance door of the cafe rings, and Matthew is brought out of his daydream as he glances towards the origin of the noise and sees the man of the hour. From Matthew’s seat, it looked like the sun had been sending Hanbin directly to him; a gift for all of Matthew’s good deeds in his past life. He sneakily touched the pulse on his wrist and sighed out in assurance of–yeah. This was real life.
Sung Hanbin’s smile is wide and easy, familiar, and warm in the way it hugs Matthew’s sides and brings a shining light to his unforgiving eyes. He doesn't speak to the younger as he sets down his coat on his chair like a true gentleman, then sits down across from him. The action makes Matthew’s chest inflate a little with something close to admiration.
“Good morning,” Hanbin said, tone soft and high in the same way you would talk to a small child. Although he often did it subconsciously, Hanbin found himself always using that tone with Matthew. Nonetheless, the younger’s smile stretches even wider than before, and he gives a little bounce in his chair in what can only be explained as a product of feeling overwhelmed. “Hi!” Matthew lets out, loud enough to make Hanbin crease his eyebrows as he laughs at the latter. Matthew had always been so cute.
“I hope I didn't make you wait too long, bear,” Hanbin says as he takes in Matthew’s early morning appearance, slight trace of bedhead and a comedically uncoordinated outfit. The younger blushes a bit at the endearing name (Hanbin had coined it after Matthew called him honey and fuck, his gut twisted a bit every time he thought about it). He takes one of Matthew’s hands in his own, his long thumbs coming over to brush against the cleft of Matthew’s knuckles as the younger shakes his head thoughtfully. “I got here a little early on purpose. I couldn't sleep after you told me you had a surprise for me.”
Sue him; Matthew has never been in a relationship, nor received a gift from anyone he’s liked romantically, and Sung Hanbin was too perfect for him to even think about being able to comprehend why he was so willing to date Seok Matthew, out of all the boys.
There’s an endeared smile on Hanbin’s face that calms the younger down a little, one that Hanbin always gives him that tells him something akin to, ‘You’re so wonderful.’ Which was starting to sound a lot like an ‘I love you.’ But maybe Matthew is just seeking those words out from the older. Maybe if he was braver, he would ask Hanbin to say it. Just one time.
The elder clears his throat to get Matthew’s attention once more, and he’s once again dragged out his impromptu Hanbin love confession fantasy. “Well, as you know…it will be our one year soon.” His words sound a little airy as if something is stuck in his throat, and Matthew can feel the way his ears pinch back in slight anticipation. A smaller, sicker side of him gives him the fleeting thought of–this is it. He’s breaking up with you because he found someone better, someone prettier. Someone more willing to love him than you are. But then there is a small squeeze in the space between the knuckles of his index finger and his ring finger and he sees the way Hanbin’s eyes watch him carefully as if to say, relax.
He reaches behind him and into his coat’s pockets without removing his hand from Matthew’s and there's something warm pooling in the younger stomach; something close to you’re so wonderful. I love you. Close. So close…and yet. He bites his tongue and lets himself swallow the ball of saliva that forms in his mouth at the action.
Hanbin makes a noise of accomplishment before he's suddenly whipping back to face Matthew, a large smile plastered on his face. The younger almost frowns in response, feeling as if it was a little too early for Hanbin to be this happy. No, seriously, what's there to smile about this early in the day? Instead, Matthew just returns the smile as well as possible as he tries not to pee himself out of nerves. Okay, gross.
“Well, I wanted to have something to remind you…of us, I guess.” Hanbin bites his bottom lip soft and suddenly Matthew can feel the cold floor of the olders apartment and taste the chicken on his tongue. Should've lied, Matthew thinks, should've told him I got hit by a bus this morning. This is terrible– ” So I…bought us a little something. I guess.” You guess, Matthew echoes in his head as he nods softly to Hanbin’s words. Now it's his turn to rub softly circles on the boy’s knuckles in hopes of reassuring him.
“Whatever it is, I’ll love it.” Matthew tells him, because it's the gross and honest truth about how much he…enjoys being close to Hanbin. He squeezes his hand, a silent motion of relaxation pending between them both. Since when had they both become such wimps?
Something small coils in Matthew’s stomach at the realization that even a year later, he still has the same effect on Hanbin that he did last year, on that cold floor. You’re wonderful. He shivers a little, but he chuckles softly as he sees Hanbin finally processing his words.
With no further explanation, the older boy’s free hand plops onto the table, a small black box wrapped tightly around the pale fingers. Hanbin clears his throat once more and pushes the box towards Matthew. “If you don't want to wear it, it's okay…” He whispers with finality in his tone, his lips pursing once more. Matthew hums in acknowledgement but doesn't agree, quickly taking the box.
Out of all the things Matthew could have expected to receive from Sung Hanbin, a ring was not one of those things. Much less, a thick silver band with the initials S.M. and S.H . carved on the inside of it, a small star between the letters. Connecting them. One after another. Close. Close. Close. He can feel that familiar sting in his eyes once again as he breathes out, eyes dragging back up to Hanbin.
“I feel bad,” Hanbin starts, his grip on the table side turning his knuckles white. “A few months ago, I started to feel bad. Because I–” He glances at Matthew’s face, then the ring, then sets his eyes back on the table. “I realized I never asked you out. Like, properly. So, I decided to get a promise ring, to like–show. Show you I’ve been on the same page, all these months. I’m sorry if it seemed like I wasn’t.” There’s something in Matthew that tugs at his chest, that tells him to tell Hanbin that he doesn't have to get him a ring because Matthew already sees him as for what they are–what they want to be. They don't need to say it. He’s happy. But then he looks down at the ring, takes it into his hand and rolls it around his fingers with a small smile on his face and cheeks fluttering up and— fuck, I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. You’re wonderful. I love you. He shakes his head.
“Thank you,” Matthew says, voice a little torn as he tries to not burst into tears at the feeling of the cold ring slipping into his pinky, or the nervous shake of Sung Hanbin’s face. Suddenly, their hands are entangled again, and Matthew notices that– oh. Hanbin’s silver band on his pinky. How long had he had it? Did he buy his before he bought Matthew’s? Did he know they would survive this long? Matthew guesses his face was already asking millions of questions because he heard Hanbin laughing softly, nerves easing up.
“I bought it three months ago,” He whispers, head nodding at his own hand. “I bought one just for me…as a reminder. That you’ll always be there.” Matthew feels something fragile in his chest completely shatter like fiberglass, and before he can even tear up again, Hanbin continues. “Then…I thought of giving one to you, as a reminder.” That I’m always here. You’re wonderful.
Hanbin is waiting for him to speak, he can see that. His eyes are searching Matthew’s own as if they were trying to tear into them, but Matthew can barely think. He just nods his head and takes a deep breath before he says the only thing that he’s been thinking about since he saw the silver band—” I love you,” His voice is soft, unsure if his message would be appreciated or maybe too sudden for Hanbin to hear.
“I think I’ve loved you for a really long time now.” He says as an afterthought, gulping down whatever knot he had in his throat as he watches Hanbin gawk right in his face. The older boy fumbles a little, stuttering with his sentence before Matthew holds up his free hand in a motion to stop him. “It's okay to not say it back…I just wanted to let you know. About how I feel– been feeling . I guess.” Hanbin must have missed the joke in his sentence as he grabs Matthew’s other hand and suddenly forces them to make intense eye contact that almost makes Matthew physically recoil. “I love you, too.”
Matthew recoils physically for real this time. Okay, well. He didn't expect to hear it back today. Either way, he laughs softly at the way Hanbin’s eyes are still wide as saucers. “Good,” Matthew says, nodding his head in acknowledgement. Hanbin’s shoulders finally drop, and his face slowly melts into a gentle smile as he mimics Matthew’s nod. “Good.” He echoes. He scoots his seat closer to the table, their hands still fumbling together as their fingers curiously poke one another.
“My bear,” Hanbin whispers into the small space between them as if he were going to tell Matthew a secret. The younger looks at him, an eyebrow prodding him to continue. “I love you.” He repeats, less passionate than the first time but still just as comforting and true as the first time. Matthew smiles once again, feeling something warm bubbling in his chest that he can only describe as Sung Hanbin.
“I love you, too.”