Archive of Our Own ^beta

5.
He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand. He was dead anyway, a ghost. I’m surprised I saw his hand at all. All this was prepared for me. All this was set in motion long ago. I live in someone else’s future. I stayed as long as I could, he said. Now look at the moon. 
- “The Worm King’s Lullaby” by Richard Siken

Hansol is from Hongdae. He pauses. Well. He’s from New York (where his mother is from), but he only lived there until he was five, and then his parents moved to Korea (where his father is from) to open an English academy. 

The longer Hansol talks about himself, the more self conscious he becomes. He laughs, even though he hasn’t made a joke and turns the question back to Seungkwan. 

“Where are you from?” he asks. 

“Jeju Island,” Seungkwan says. People usually pick up on his accent. Maybe Hansol thinks it’s rude to point it out. “Have you ever been?” 

“No, but that’s so cool! I wanted to go, my dad talks about it sometimes. Did you grow up near the coast?”

“Yeah, near a harbour, actually. I could see it out of my bedroom window. If I was awake early enough I could watch the fishing boats go out, there was a whole fleet of them every morning,” Seungkwan explains. It’s a romantic enough vision but not strictly true because he hated the noise of it as a teenager. The horns on the boats would wake him up at dawn and he could never get back to sleep.

Talking to Hansol is easy, Seungkwan finds out almost immediately. Hansol means what he says, and listens intently when Seungkwan speaks. His reactions are perfectly over the top and doesn’t seem to care if he looks silly or not, like he’s not trying to hide any of himself from Seungkwan. Not trying to appear something he’s not. 

It was Kim Mingyu of all people that set them up. But Eunwoo helped, apparently, because he’s not one to miss out on credit. Seungkwan isn’t even entirely sure where they found Hansol, just that one or the other met him and decided that Seungkwan needed to do the same. Seungkwan hates that all of his friends in relationships work in conspiracy with one another to pull things like this off and he desperately wants to be a part of it. 

“I started my service straight out of high school,” Hansol says sometime later, when the topic of university comes up and Hansol admits he didn’t go. “And afterwards I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I went to stay with my grandma in New York for a while, but then I started to miss Seoul.” 

“Did you remember a lot about America from when you were little?” Seungkwan asks. 

Hansol pulls a thinking face. Seungkwan finds it endearing, that he does that like a cartoon character. There’s something about Hansol that makes Seungkwan feel like he’s known him a lot longer than he has, that makes him comfortable to be around. 

“Not really. I remembered my mom’s family more than anything, and a bit of the house we lived in. Like I said, I was only five when I left,” Hansol says. “I remembered my grandma’s house too, going back was weird because it felt like the first time but then I knew where things were because she hadn’t moved them in like 15 years.”

Hansol’s hair is short, naturally dark brown, bangs flopping over his forehead in careless but perfect waves. There’s acne on his cheeks that makes him look younger than he is. Boyish. Seungkwan wouldn’t be surprised if Mingyu dressed him for the date. He probably took great pride in it, even. 

He has good posture, Seungkwan notices. He’s resting one hand on the table and he’s not asking Seungkwan to take it, but he could. He could reach out and take it. Why does he feel nervous about that? He’s being ridiculous. Seungkwan leans forward a little further, his chin cushioned in the palm of his hand. 

“You must miss them when you’re here,” Seungkwan says. 

Hansol shrugs. “Yeah, it’s like that wherever I am though. I have half my family across the world no matter what. It sucks, but then I know that I always have a home across the world too, if I ever need it.”

“That’s a nice way to think about it,” Seungkwan murmurs.

☾☾☾

After dinner, Seungkwan hesitates. 

It’s a humid night, hot for mid-September. Chuseok was last weekend. Seungkwan spent it travelling back and forth from Jeju Island, the gap in between filled with a sense of melancholy he couldn’t shake even though he was with his family. His mother and aunts bickered in his halmeoni’s kitchen while his sisters bickered in the living room over absolutely nothing just like they were kids again. 

Holidays come with that feeling now, he finds. He texted Seungcheol to wish him a happy Chuseok and to promise him a visit on his return to Seoul, and then he texted Jeonghan to say that he misses him and didn’t get a response. 

“I had a nice night,” Hansol says. He pushes his hair off his face with one hand, jacket slung over his arm. 

“Would you like to come back to my place?” Seungkwan asks before he can chicken out. 

“Yeah, sure,” Hansol says with a sheepish grin. “You live far from here?”

“Walking distance,” Seungkwan replies. 

It's been a while since Seungkwan last did this with someone, even longer since he took them home. He hasn’t had much interest in it, given the year he’s had. Six months, really. He forgets it hasn’t been that long at all.

Hansol tells him some more about himself on the way home: all about how he knows Mingyu, the work they do together. He admits with a nervous laugh that he didn’t expect the date to go this well. That he hasn’t really dated men in Korea before, and only dated a couple in the states. 

Seungkwan in return admits that he hasn’t had that much luck with it either, that he thinks he’s too picky for his own good sometimes and then realises that Hansol might take that as an insult. But when he apologises in a rush, Hansol just laughs again. He takes the opportunity to drape an arm over Seungkwan’s shoulder as they walk, tugging him closer. Seungkwan feels his ears burn the rest of the way home. 

His flat is on the 7 th floor. There’s tension in the lift. Seungkwan so badly wants to reach out for him as he leans against the mirrored wall of the elevator. Hansol smiles at him, like he wants it too. Seungkwan can’t tell whether he’s being super obvious or if Hansol is just good at reading him without trying. 

Seungkwan punches the code in and opens the door. He takes off his shoes and hovers as Hansol follows him in. He twists his fingers together, bounces on the balls of his feet when Hansol isn’t looking, the anticipation swirling inside his tummy. Is he being too eager? Hansol is going to think he’s desperate. 

Then, he’s in front of Hansol, and Hansol is stepping closer still. 

“Is this okay?” Hansol asks, hand on Seungkwan’s waist. Part of Seungkwan wishes he wouldn’t do that. Still, he nods, eyes darting to Hansol’s lips and back up again. 

Hansol leans down to kiss him, breath ghosting over Seungkwan’s lips for the briefest of moments before they meet. Seungkwan tilts his head and closes his eyes, exhaling through his nose across Hansol’s cheek. Lets himself feel everything Hansol is offering him. 

Hansol only has a couple of inches of him — it’s hardly noticeable — but Seungkwan relishes in how it makes him feel to be smaller, as he takes the lead on the kiss, one hand on Hansol’s jaw, the other on his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He leans up, presses himself closer and closer. 

When they part Hansol smiles in a way that shows all of his teeth. It’s that gooey, giddy feeling that he’s been missing. He hates that Mingyu was right. He’s going to send him a fruit basket anyway. 

“Do you want a drink?” Seungkwan asks with their faces still centimetres apart. He can’t stop smiling like a schoolgirl, like it’s his first kiss all over again. 

Hansol laughs softly. “Sure,” he says. “Whatever you have.”

Seungkwan can’t resist leaning in again to press their lips together chastely before he’s pulling away and pressing his own lips together to save himself some level of embarrassment. He didn’t anticipate bringing anyone back tonight otherwise he would’ve made an effort to have something in his fridge other than melon soda and prune juice. Neither seem appropriate, so he grabs a bottle of water and decides that will have to do. 

“You didn’t tell me you have a cat,” Hansol says from the living room.

Seungkwan automatically replies, “I don’t,” before he can stop himself. The realisation hits him like a piano falling from a 5 th floor window and he whips around to warn Hansol that the cat isn’t friendly before he gets scratched, but the words die in his throat just as quickly when he sees Hansol crouched down in the middle of the room, hand outstretched as the cat tentatively sniffs him. 

“She likes me,” Hansol says. And she does, as she decides he smells good enough and head-butts his hand to indicate that she wants to be pet, spine arching and tail upright. Hansol scratches under her chin and coos at her. 

Seungkwan can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

“What’s her name?” Hansol asks. 

“Bunny,” Seungkwan tells him. 

“Bunny,” Hansol coos. “How old is she? She’s so small but she looks like an old lady.”

“I’m not sure,” Seungkwan replies, which is the truth, and then he can’t stop himself from continuing, “She’s not mine, I’m just watching her for a friend.”

“Oh, how long for?” 

“I don’t know,” Seungkwan answers, mentally cursing himself for saying something so stupid in the first place. Hansol shoots him a confused look. “He’s working in Japan. His company is, uh, weird, he doesn’t know when he’ll be back just yet.”

“Ah, I see,” Hansol says and turns his attention back to Bunny, who is swimming around his legs, purring. 

A sick sense of anxiety gurgles inside Seungkwan’s tummy. Maybe this was a mistake, to bring Hansol back to his place so soon, to think that the cat just wouldn’t be here — wouldn’t make him feel anything. It’s like he’s here with them. Like he’s nudging Hansol’s hand while looking directly at Seungkwan saying watch me. 

“She’s never let me stroke her like that before,” Seungkwan says. Even to his own ears he sounds ridiculously cut up about it. 

“For real? She’s probably just scared to be away from home,” Hansol reasons and it’s crawling up Seungkwan’s throat so fast he has to turn around and focus on something else before it comes out. He uncaps the bottle and pours the water into two glasses, feeling like a kid playing house. 

Hansol straightens up to accept the glass from Seungkwan. Bunny skitters away as soon as Seungkwan gets too close, diving under the bookcase to lurk there for the rest of the evening. Seungkwan can go days at a time without seeing her. He only knows she’s still alive because of the diminishing food in her bowl and what she leaves behind in the litter tray. Sometimes in bed at night he’ll hear the jingle of one of her toys from the living room, and feel the weight in his chest to know that she’s playing alone and that she refuses to let Seungkwan see her. 

“My sister has a cat,” Hansol offers, when Seungkwan is too quiet. He doesn’t know what else to say. There was more he wanted to ask, surely. “He’s a Maine Coon, he’s huge.”

“I always had dogs growing up,” Seungkwan says. 

It’s too quiet. He should’ve put the TV on or some music to fill in the gaps, but if he does it now then it’ll seem forced. He didn’t expect it to be like this. It feels like the opportunity is slipping through his fingers, which is dramatic, perhaps, because he only just met Hansol and he’s not losing anything by letting him go. 

“Do you have to be up early?” Hansol asks. It sounds an awful lot like he’s giving Seungkwan an out that Seungkwan immediately misses by saying no. 

Hansol puts his glass down on the coffee table — on the bare wood, missing the coaster by an inch — and steps a little closer. Seungkwan is too stiff, and it must look weird. He just can’t seem to pull himself together. He grips his glass harder and looks under the bookcase, unable to see anything but shadow. 

“Seungkwan — do you want me to go?” Hansol asks, picking up on all of the rotten vibes that Seungkwan is putting down. 

And here’s where he asks himself: does he? He doesn’t want to be alone, is the thing, maybe more than he doesn’t want Hansol to be here. 

So, he says, “No, I’m sorry.” He drags his eyes away from the bookcase and places his glass on the coffee table, moving Hansol’s onto the coaster as he does so, and looks Hansol in the eye like he deserves. “I’m sorry, I just haven’t done this in a really long time, and I don’t know what I’m doing

“Mingyu-hyung told me—” Hansol starts but Seungkwan is quick to cut him off with a useless question. 

“What did he tell you?” he asks. 

Unperturbed, Hansol continues, “Just that you’d had a hard year. He didn’t say what and I didn’t ask either.”

“Oh,” Seungkwan murmurs. It makes sense by all accounts. Of course Mingyu was looking out for him — or looking out for Hansol. 

“Whatever it is, I get it. You don’t have to tell me, we can take it slow,” Hansol says. 

It’s the guilt, ever present and nauseating wrapping around his insides.  Seungkwan swallows hard. There’s nothing wrong with Hansol being here, he’s not wrong for wanting this. He’s not betraying anyone by trying to be happy. 

“Thank you, it’s just… complicated, right now. I really did have a good time tonight,” Seungkwan says one word after the other. He reaches out, because he wants to, to take Hansol’s hand. “Would you still want to stay if we didn’t do anything?”

“Sure, I’d love to,” Hansol replies, and Seungkwan is almost certain he means it. 

☾☾☾

Intermission: Bunny Ⅰ

Bunny had hated Seungkwan from the moment he met her — although that was pretty insignificant given that she hated everyone who wasn’t Jeonghan. 

To this day Seungkwan isn’t entirely sure where Jeonghan got her from. Given the state of her when he first met her, he can only assume Jeonghan found her scavenging for scraps in a back alley somewhere and managed to win over her trust enough to bring her home with him. 

She was greasy and skinny and missing patches of hair, each knob of her spine visible as she curled herself into a little ball in Jeonghan’s lap. She was decidedly corpse-like, until Seungkwan got too close and she perked up to hiss, baring her teeth. 

“She just hates men,” Jeonghan reasoned, laughing as Bunny freed a paw from under herself to swat at Seungkwan. “Aigoo, Bunny, play nice with Seungkwannie,” he cooed at her. 

“She likes you just fine,” Seungkwan grumbled in return.

“I’m her appa,” Jeonghan said with a shrug, scratching the top of her little white head with his nails. The cat eyed Seungkwan with disdain and started to purr. 

At the time, Seungkwan saw it as a positive that Jeonghan had gotten himself something to look after. The way he fussed over her, talked about her like she was his baby, played with her by dangling feathered toys in front of her disinterested face. 

There was relief there, undeniable as it was shameful, to think that he didn’t have to worry for a moment, because Jeonghan had busied himself with a cat. Had he always viewed Jeonghan as a problem to be solved? Did he recognise it then? Then again, would he have acknowledged it if he did?

☾☾☾

Hansol stays the night. 

They don’t do much more than kiss, but it’s enough. Seungkwan missed the closeness of another person, how Hansol wraps himself around him in the early hours of the morning, dressed in the clothes Seungkwan leant to him, and presses sleepy kisses to the back of his neck. It’s almost unbearably intimate. Hansol is still a stranger at the end of the day. 

Seungkwan lays awake in the grey haze of his bedroom. It can’t be past 7am, although he hasn’t checked. Hansol is still fast asleep next to him, cheek smushed against the pillow, mouth ever so slightly open as he breathes heavily. Seungkwan’s heart stops when hears the jingle of a bell from one of Bunny’s toys. He listens for a moment, the guilt already starting to build in his gut. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand before it can crawl up his throat and suffocate him. 

정하니혀

i met someone
mingyu set me up on a blind date and it went really well
isn’t that awful?
he stayed over but nothing happened, i’m waiting for him to wake up now
he’s really sweet, i think you’d like him
bunny likes him a lot anyway but she still hasn’t warmed to me
i hope you’re okay wherever you are
i love you and i miss you

When Hansol wakes up, they order breakfast and eat it laid out on the coffee table in their pyjamas. He stays until the sun starts to set again, and they still don’t have sex and it’s still not an issue. Hansol plays with Bunny when she surfaces from her hiding spots, and drinks all of Seungkwan’s melon soda, and claims the spare toothbrush under the bathroom sink — just not in that order.

☾☾☾

Mingyu is exactly as smug as Seungkwan expects him to be. 

Every time Seungkwan visits Mingyu and Eunwoo’s apartment in Gangnam he finds himself in awe over how they can afford the place. He doesn’t strictly know what Eunwoo does for work, but it must be lucrative whatever it is. 

“Hansollie said he had a good time,” Mingyu sing-songs, promptly throwing himself down on the couch and shoving his huge bony feet under Seungkwan’s thighs. 

Seungkwan slaps his knee for it, but only succeeds in making his own palm sting. 

“After all I do for you!” Mingyu squawks with a scandalised look on his face. He wiggles his toes with such ferocity that Seungkwan feels it through his jeans. “Anyway, how was it?”

“It was nice,” Seungkwan says. He’s not going to admit to Mingyu, especially not while he’s sat on his fucking feet, but hearing that Hansol enjoyed himself sends little thrills up his spine. 

“I’m going to need you to elaborate. ‘Good time’ is all I got out of Hansol and I was working at it for like 15 minutes.”

Seungkwan has known Mingyu for almost three years now. They met on Jack’d and hooked up a disastrous three times before they conceded that it probably was not going to work for them. But Mingyu is fun to be around, and he’s affectionate, and when they talked more they realised they had friends in common, because Seungkwan can’t help but be a stereotype sometimes. 

Seungkwan rolls his eyes before he launches into it. 

“We went to that restaurant that you recommended,” he starts with because he knows Mingyu will like that, “And then he came back home with me, but —” he tries to get expectations low but Mingyu honest to god squeals like a schoolgirl.

“On the first date?” Mingyu asks. Seungkwan swats at him again, aiming for a softer target this time, which is more difficult when it comes to Mingyu than it sounds.

“Nothing happened! We just watched a movie and talked and he stayed over because it was too late for him to get home safely.”

“Mm, right, that’s very sensible,” Mingyu says, corners of his lips twisting up as he tries to keep his composure.

Seungkwan ignores him as continues, “It was… it was really easy. I felt really comfortable with him, like we’d known each other for a long time, you know?” Mingyu hums for him to continue. “He’s sweet, and he wasn’t annoyed or pushy because I didn’t want to do anything. I don’t know.” Seungkwan sighs and tips his head against the back of the couch. His stomach churns at what he’s about to admit, even if it’s just to Mingyu. “I think I really like him. Is that weird after the first date?”

“No,” Mingyu answers, his voice soft. “Sometimes you just know. You should make the most of it.”

“You make it sound like it might go away,” Seungkwan mutters. 

“It won’t if it’s real.”

“So what if it’s not real?” 

“Then they’ll be someone else.”

Seungkwan turns his head to look at Mingyu, eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

“You make it sound simple,” he says. 

“It doesn’t feel easy when you’re going through it but if you think about it then it’s all pretty straight forward,” Mingyu reasons. He has plenty of ammo on Mingyu to contradict that but it’s not appropriate to bring up right now.

Seungkwan shakes his head in disbelief and turns his gaze back to the ceiling. He wasn’t going to say anything about it, but in the newfound silence it starts to bubble up his throat. It’s only Mingyu, and Mingyu knows, but there’s still trepidation there. 

“I think I might’ve fucked it up already, though,” he admits quietly.

“Huh, why?”

“Hansol met Bunny, and he asked about her and I panicked and told him that I was just watching her for a friend,” Seungkwan says. 

Mingyu shifts and pulls his feet out from Seungkwan’s thighs so he can angle himself closer.

“Well it’s not strictly a lie,” he says, draping a hand over the back of the couch so he can play with Seungkwan’s hair. It doesn’t do anything to quell the guilt that’s burning his insides. How could he have been so stupid?

“It’s worse. I told him that Jeonghan-hyung is on a business trip in  Japan,” Seungkwan says.

“I didn’t tell him about Jeonghan,” Mingyu says too quickly. 

“I know you didn’t! It’s just— now I have to tell him. What if it makes it weird?” He looks to Mingyu for validation. Mingyu has a sickeningly sincere look on his face, like Seungkwan could say anything and he’d tell him exactly what he wanted to hear.  

“He’ll understand, and he’ll forgive you for not telling him right away, too,” Mingyu says, and it sounds enough like a promise that Seungkwan takes it, because what else is there to do? 

☾☾☾

Intermission: Bunny Ⅱ

Jeonghan had shown up at Seungkwan’s door with the cat carrier and a bag of supplies at just past seven in the evening. It was a bad time, but Jeonghan rarely popped up out of nowhere during the good ones. He seemed in a cheery mood, for what it was worth. 

All Seungkwan felt was frustration, irritation prickling hot under his skin. Jeonghan could’ve called, he could’ve asked first. He was so impulsive and rarely cared what others thought. Seungkwan always berated him for it, he did that night too. 

“I’m going on a trip, I need you to watch her while I’m gone,” Jeonghan said. He handed Seungkwan the carrier and Bunny hissed inside like she knew who she was being given to. 

“I’m not even allowed pets in my apartment, hyung,” Seungkwan protested. It was like he was 21 all over again, arguing with Jeonghan in the lobby of his student accommodation, telling him that if he was going to leave then couldn’t he at least tell someone where he was going. “Can’t Seungcheol-hyung take her?” 

“Seungcheollie has a dog, and she likes you,” Jeonghan said. Seungkwan thought they were past this. He thought he didn’t have to worry about Jeonghan’s games anymore. How dreadfully naïve of him. 

“She hates me.”

Jeonghan had shrugged and pulled a face to suggest he didn’t care and wasn’t here to argue. 

“It’ll only be for a little while,” he said. Seungkwan didn’t realise at the time that it was a lie, although maybe he should’ve. There were signs, weren’t there?

Before he left, Jeonghan said, “I’m going to miss you, Seungkwan-ah,” with such sincerity that it got stuck in Seungkwan’s throat. He dismissed it then, and scoffed it away. For a moment, Jeonghan looked hurt, before his face relaxed into something calmer, and he said, “I love you, hyung will see you soon,” and left. 

☾☾☾

Hansol messages Seungkwan while he’s on the metro on his way back to his apartment. It’s late, and Mingyu told him he could stay if he wanted to, but Eunwoo was due home any moment and Seungkwan didn’t want to intrude on them. 

Hansol isn’t as pushy as the other guys he’s dated, rather sparring with his texts, like he’s confident Seungkwan won’t lose interest or forget he exists if he goes more than two hours without contact. It makes Seungkwan feel like he’s 20 years old again, constantly glancing over to his phone face-up on his desk just in case it’s lit up with a KaTalk message from Hansol. 

최한솔

you wanna get dinner or smth thursday?

sure, i’d love to :)

cool
what time u finish work?

6-ish

ok
you like chinese food?

i do

i’ll pick u up at 7:30?

you have a car you didn’t tell me about??

no lol
the forecast is nice we can walk
if that’s okay with you????

of course
sounds nice
what’s the dress code?

ummmmmm
i don’t think they have one

i got it :)

Hansol sends him a picture of a cat giving a thumbs up to round off the conversation. Seungkwan snorts even though it’s not funny at all and sends him a string of stickers in return. 

☾☾☾

October approaches like a tidal wave that threatens to drag Seungkwan under. 

Jeonghan’s birthday is in the first week of the month. As it stands, the plan is for Seungcheol to drive them both down to Seongnam to see him. His parents moved down there some time ago and they wanted him close to home. No one was going to tell them otherwise. 

Seungkwan is hesitating over confirming the plans. He’s always second guessing himself or worrying that he’s making the wrong decision these days. It’s exactly what he did that night, when Jeonghan came to drop Bunny off out of nowhere. He remembers it like it was yesterday. How annoyed he’d been, how equally unhappy Bunny was to see him. Jeonghan — how he smiled before he closed the door. 

On Thursday Hansol arrives exactly on time. He’s dressed significantly more casual than their first date in jeans and a bright white, well fitted t-shirt, leather jacket slung over his shoulders. It’s not particularly cold in the city yet, although the warm weather has been threatening to break for a few days now, giving way to winter once and for all. 

In the doorway, Seungkwan leans up to kiss him as a hello and relishes in the giddy feeling that returns instantly. It bubbles away in his tummy, right next to the ever-present guilt that threatens just like the frost to come to stay. 

“Did you have a good day?” Hansol asks as they begin to walk. Seungkwan lets Hansol take the lead, although he doesn’t appear to be in a rush to get anywhere. 

“It was fine,” Seungkwan replies, his face giving him away as he can’t contain his grimace. 

“Are you sure?” 

What’s there to tell him? There’s a million things buzzing around Seungkwan’s mind and none of them feel appropriate to say out loud, not without spilling the beans about Jeonghan, not without a thousand word preface. He racks his brain for something mundane.

“Um, it’s just work drama. It’s a quiet season and my boss is blaming us,” Seungkwan explains. It’s half-truth. Nothing that Hansol is going to question. It is a rough season, just not for those reasons. 

“Ah, he’s like that?” Hansol asks.

“Mm, everything is everyone else’s fault,” Seungkwan says. 

That makes Hansol snort. Their hands brush as they walk, bathed in streetlight. 

“I’ve worked for people like that before. I used to work at this print shop in the states and my manager totalled like three printers and then put up signs telling the rest of us to be more careful with the equipment,” Hansol says. 

“That’s infuriating! I hope you got back at him,” Seungkwan huffs. He loops his arm through Hansol’s. 

“Nah, I left pretty soon after. I’m not really the type for revenge,” Hansol says. 

“Wish I could say the same,” Seungkwan mutters. Hansol laughs, warm enough for Seungkwan to feel it in his chest.

The restaurant Hansol takes him to isn’t too busy given that it’s Thursday night, but Seungkwan doesn’t miss the stream of delivery drivers that rush in and out, the bell above the door a constant jingle above the trot music that plays over tinny speakers. 

The middle aged woman behind the counter recognises Hansol immediately and begins to fuss over him in thickly accented Korean while Seungkwan lingers to his side, unable to help but smile as Hansol’s cheeks turn pink at the attention. The thought pops into his brain uninvited that this might just be the place where Hansol takes all of his dates, but Seungkwan quashes it as quickly as it arrives. 

They order sweet and sour pork, fried rice and a soupy dish that Seungkwan has never tried before but Hansol swears down it’s one of the best things he’s ever eaten. Annoyingly, it’s one of the best things Seungkwan’s ever eaten, too. The ajumma at the counter brings over an extra order of pan fried dumplings with a wink in Hansol’s direction that makes it Seungkwan’s turn to blush.

“How did you find this place?” Seungkwan asks. Their feet bump under the table as they eat and it makes Seungkwan feel like a teenager on the first date he never actually got to have.

“My friend Myungho, it’s their parents that own it. That’s their mum, I haven’t seen her in forever, but I used to come here all the time when I was in high school, just to like, be somewhere that wasn’t home,” Hansol explains. 

“You had a hard time at home?” Seungkwan asks. 

Hansol shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. I hated school so bad and my parents didn’t really get it. It was easier to run away from them than to face it, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know,” Seungkwan agrees. He has no end of experience when it comes to running away from his problems. 

승철형

did you manage to get the 4 th off?

The message lights up Seungkwan’s home screen and he’s picking up his phone as soon as he sees who it’s from, cutting Hansol off mid-sentence. His stomach sinks into his shoes as he unlocks his phone and opens the chat, finding his Happy Chuseok message still visible on the screen from a week ago. He never got around to visiting, but Seungcheol works himself into the ground at the best of times and it’s not another thing Seungkwan needs to feel guilty about. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells Hansol, “I need to reply.”

“That’s fine,” Hansol says. He leans back in his chair, waving his hand to give Seungkwan the go-ahead. 

Seungkwan worries his bottom lip between his teeth and types back. 

승철형

not yet
my boss has been in a shitty mood recently i think he’s going to say no

it’s soon
we have to go

i know hyung

jeonghan will appreciate it 

i know
i’ll get it sorted tomorrow
worst comes to worst i’ll call in sick

alright
are you coming over this weekend?

i will
i promise hyung

There’s a lump in his throat as he locks his phone and places it face-down on the table. 

“Sorry about that,” he says, clearing his throat and trying to pull himself together. “What were you saying?”

“Are you okay? Do you need to be somewhere?” Hansol asks, he doesn’t keep talking about — what was he talking about? School? Running away? Was Hansol trying to open up to him about something before Seungkwan ruined it?

“No,” Seungkwan says immediately. “It was just a friend, he needed to know something.”

“Ah,” Hansol says. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not usually this all over the place, I swear,” Seungkwan says, attempting a laugh at the end of it. It comes out stiff.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hansol says. Seungkwan isn’t sure he deserves it, but he’s sure Hansol means it.

That night Seungkwan lets Hansol take him back to his apartment. It’s smaller than Seungkwan’s and messier with a suspicious stack of Coupang boxes stacked beside his desk and a stray sock in the middle of the floor. Hansol laughs sheepishly when he spots it, and kicks it out of sight rather than picking it up. 

It’s easier to be here than it is to be at his own place. There’s no cat to keep an eye on, no distractions. A fresh space to meld himself into until he fits just right so Hansol won’t have to ask him to leave. Hansol hasn’t stopped touching him since they got inside the building, a hand on his waist, pressed up against his side like he’s scared Seungkwan is going to run away. It’s a little possessive, a little claiming, but it makes Seungkwan feel desired all the same. Hansol kisses him without asking if he wants anything to drink, curls his hand around the back of Seungkwan’s head, threads his fingers through his hair and holds him close as Seungkwan opens up for him. 

Seungkwan arches his back, pushes his body closer to Hansol in the hopes it’ll be enough for Hansol’s orbit to absorb him completely. It’s not enough, but it’s going to have to do. Seungkwan doesn’t dare ask for anything else. 

☾☾☾

Intermission: The Longest Night 

The longest night of Seungkwan’s life had started with a phone call from Seungcheol at one in the morning. He knew as soon as he saw the caller ID what it was, a call he’d been waiting for on and off for years. When things were at their worst he would stay up all night just to watch his phone, just in case. 

Bunny still hadn’t come out of her carrier, which sat unlatched by the side of the couch. Seungkwan almost tripped over it when he left his bedroom, phone held in a white-knuckled grip, Seungcheol’s ugly, gasping breath on the other end of the line, telling Seungkwan that he needed to come, that he needed to be here, that he didn’t know what to do, that he couldn’t go in the room.

It hadn’t been like he imagined. 

And he had imagined it before, playing the scenario in his head from step to the next logical step. It starts with the call, sometimes from Seungcheol, sometimes from a police officer, sometimes from Jeonghan’s sister, but then he’s taking control of the situation. He’s telling Seungcheol what he needs to hear, he’s not stuttering over his words, his throat isn’t so tight it makes it near impossible to eke any sound out at all. 

Seungkwan tried to tell him over and over that he was on his way, that he needed to get dressed and get a taxi and that Seungcheol needed to calm down enough to give him the address. When he did, Seungkwan hung up, and stood for a moment completely frozen in his living room. Bunny hissed in her carrier. His phone stayed silent, like the phone call had never even happened, like if he wanted to, Seungkwan could go back to bed and pull the sheets over his head and let denial swallow him whole. 

☾☾☾

The morning of the 4 th  of October Seungkwan goes about his routine with a weight in the pit of his stomach that he can’t move. He makes himself a coffee and fills up Bunny’s food dish for her to eat while he’s in the shower.

When he turns around he spots her, crouching under the bookcase, staring directly at him, her yellow eyes caught in a beam of morning sunlight, making them look like jewels. Seungkwan crouches down to match her as slowly as he can and holds out a hand to her. 

“Come here, Bunny,” he calls softly. He clicks his fingers like he used to to call his dogs, albeit with less force for her. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you, I just want to say hello.”

Bunny eyes him warily and doesn’t move an inch. She doesn’t know what day it is, she only had one birthday with Jeonghan in the end. Seungkwan straightens back up and goes to shower, letting the silence of his apartment consume him.

☾☾☾

Seungcheol comes to pick him up at 10am on the dot. 

“Hey,” Seungcheol greets him as Seungkwan gets into the car. “Are you ready?”

“Not really,” Seungkwan replies. “Did you bring anything?” 

Seungcheol shakes his head as he pulls away from the curb. “I didn’t know what he’d want. His parents take stuff all the time. Eomma sends me pictures.”

“I didn’t get anything either,” Seungkwan mumbles. He fiddles with his phone in his lap. He didn’t know what to wear, what might be inappropriate. It’s just Jeonghan, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. Nothing feels right about what they’re doing. It’s like he’s playing house again, repeating things he heard his dad say to his mom, trying to recite his lines with perfect accuracy so he doesn’t draw attention to himself.

“Don’t stress,” Seungcheol says, leaning over the console to pat his thigh reassuringly. “It’s just Jeonghan.”

Right. Seungcheol learned his lines, too. 

He’s calmer than Seungkwan thought he would be. When Seungkwan looks at him he struggles not to see the Seungcheol from that night, how scared he was, the sound as he struggled for breath through ragged sobs. It’s so vivid in his memory, he can hear it without trying. 

Seungkwan opens his phone and flicks through one app after another to distract himself. He can’t think of anything to say to Seungcheol. He doesn’t want to look at him. His stomach churns as he opens his KaTalk chat with Mingyu and then Hansol and then Jeonghan, when he can’t think of anything to say to either of them. 

정하니혀

we’re on our way
i don’t know how i’m supposed to feel about his hyung
i never told hansol where we’re going
it's not like i lied to him, i just left it out
i only met him a couple of weeks ago it’s not like i have to tell him, but it feels so wrong to leave you out
i hate how much it feels like i’m really going to see you
and i don’t want it to be like that 
seungcheol-hyung keeps talking about you like you’re going to be there, too
you know it’s like we’re going to your parent’s house, like your sister threw you a birthday party and invited us and you’ll be there
i want that to be true so much it hurts

“Who’re you texting?” Seungcheol asks. “Mingyu?” 

Seungkwan didn’t notice how carried away he was getting. He locks his phone and places it face down in his lap, clearing the lump out of his throat and shaking his head. 

“No,” he says, his voice rougher than it ought to be. 

“I still text him too sometimes,” Seungcheol admits without having to specify who. “He never used to reply anyway so it’s not that different.” He barks a largely humourless laugh. 

“I don’t know why I do it,” Seungkwan says. He looks out of the window to watch as the city dissolves away from them into rolling green mountains. 

“It’s comforting, I guess,” Seungcheol says. 

“I miss him so much,” Seungkwan admits, and then it’s coming out before he can stop it, “I miss him and I’m so mad at him for leaving.” 

It’s bitter and nasty, but it was Jeonghan that left him — left all of them. That night, he said he was going to miss Seungkwan, too, and he meant it. Seungkwan is so, so sure he meant it, but he still went through with it. Whether he’d had the plans in place for hours or days or weeks. Did he hesitate? Seungkwan thinks about that night all the time, replaying the timeline over and over again from the minute Jeonghan shut the door behind himself to the call from Seungcheol to the next morning, when he finally made it home, his chest hollowed out and aching. 

“I know, I was mad at him too,” Seungcheol says. Seungkwan didn’t expect him to say that at all. “It’s one of those things that’s almost impossible for me to rationalise, but then I thought, it wasn’t like Jeonghan made a rational decision in the first place, so.” Seungcheol sighs. “There’s no way to make it easier, it just is what it is.”

“I don’t want it to be like that,” Seungkwan mutters. 

☾☾☾

It’s not a particularly long drive down to Seongnam. Seungkwan spends most of it trying not to think about anything at all.

Seungcheol pulls into the car park of the columbaria and gathers himself with a deep breath, hands still on the steering wheel. 

“Let’s go,” he says, clapping Seungkwan on the thigh to get him moving, smile only wavering a fraction. 

Seungkwan has never been good at reading Seungcheol. He knows him through Jeonghan, although he can’t recall how the two of them met now. Maybe they were at the same hagwon together, causing trouble no doubt. He can’t ask Jeonghan to tell the story anymore, even though Seungcheol has the same story it’s not the same to hear it from him. 

“Let’s go,” Seungkwan repeats quietly, unbuckling his seatbelt, clutching his phone like a lifeline as he gets out of the car. Seungcheol goes to pay for parking while Seungkwan lingers near the car. He checks his messages even though his phone hasn’t gone off, he opens his socials only to close them again, restless for the opportunity for this to be over. 

The building is impressive, not all that old, surrounded by meticulously maintained lawns and maturing trees. The lies he’s been telling himself since he got into the car are starting to unwind, as he starts to overthink why they’re here. 

When Jeonghan died people found a lot to say about him. They made memorial posts with pretty words, promises to see him again, and wishes for him to visit them if he was able to. Seungkwan hadn’t found it in himself to participate, hadn't felt it was genuine to cobble together some nice words for an Instagram post. Jeonghan wasn’t going to read it, after all, but it’s not like he was going to read the stream of messages Seungkwan still sends him to this day. 

 Seungkwan stops in his tracks, his heart hammering inside his chest.

“I can’t do it,” he says as they’re approaching the entrance. Now he’s started thinking about it he can’t stop. Jeonghan isn’t inside that building. Jeonghan isn’t anywhere right now. Seungkwan is never going to see him again. 

“You can,” Seungcheol says, gentle but firm at the same time, reaching out a hand. There are other mourners filtering in and out of the building. Seungkwan tries not to look at any of them, tries not to catch their eyes. He isn’t about to make a scene in public it’s just— 

Seungcheol was a mess at Jeonghan’s funeral. Seungkwan stayed by his side the whole time, walking him through each step of the process like he was any better off. He held it together if only to provide Seungcheol with a sense of stability, as if to say, he’s gone but I’m still here. I won’t leave you like he did. 

Seungcheol didn’t leave him, either. 

Seungkwan takes his hand and holds on tight. Seungcheol takes a breath in and motions for Seungkwan to follow him and it eases the burning in his lungs when he does.

“It’s just Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says, the same as he did in the car. Something tells him that Seungcheol has been repeating it to himself for some time now, in preparation for the visit. Maybe it would’ve been wise for him to do the same. 

“I know,” Seungkwan says. 

Seungcheol leads him inside without letting go of his hand. They sign the visitation log and step inside the elevator to the floor where Jeonghan rests. Seungcheol has the number written down on his phone, no doubt sent to him by Jeonghan’s mother. The whole ride up Seungkwan felt that same nauseous dread he did on the night that it happened, like it’s happening all over again. 

He could’ve convinced himself that Jeonghan is on a business trip to Japan if he had tried hard enough. It’s not difficult to imagine him there, if he closes his eyes and lets his imagination run wild, rebuilding his delusions. Jeonghan doesn’t know when he’s coming home, but he is, and he’ll be just the same as he's always been. All smiles and banter and irritating jokes that don’t land quite right but make him laugh anyway. He’ll message Seungkwan back any day now.

The elevator doors ping open and reality crashes into him like a freight train. It’s a beautiful building that Seungkwan has no place being in. He trails behind Seungcheol, who walks with confidence towards their destination like he’s been here before. The urge to bolt surges through him, but Seungkwan quashes it. 

Each offshoot of the main corridor is a room full of people that don’t exist anymore. Walls lined with tiny cubic tombs filled with urns and framed photographs, artificial flowers and banners of gaudy colours flash through the glass in the corner of Seungkwan’s vision. 

“I think he’s in here,” Seungcheol says, turning off into one of the glass panelled rooms. 

Seungkwan holds his breath and follows him inside, eyes scanning the walls for a familiar face until—

“Hyung,” he breathes. Seungcheol seems to realise that it’s not meant for him. 

Jeonghan smiles at him with a bright grin. The picture his mother chose to display is from his military discharge, he’s dressed in his green army uniform, his hair cropped short. His cheeks are full but the circles under his eyes are dark from the lack of sleep he got in the barracks, the chip in his right front tooth is as prominent as it ever was, inviting Seungkwan to smile back. 

The Jeonghan in the picture hadn’t met Seungkwan yet. 

Jeonghan’s final resting place is neatly organised, his parents still taking care of him even now. There’s one of his bracelets laid out beneath the framed photograph, a drawing propped up behind the urn that has to be from one of his sister’s children, a birthday card that his parents must’ve dropped off earlier in the week.

This is all that remains of him. This is what it all came down to. 

Seungcheol clears his throat and offers a, “Happy birthday,” to the empty space. Seungkwan can’t bring himself to do the same. 

☾☾☾

Intermission: Jeonghan’s Body

There are gaps from that night. How Seungkwan got to the police station, what the officers had said to him after he found Seungcheol with his head between his knees in the waiting room before he was allowed to see Jeonghan. An officer led him into the room Seungcheol had been too scared to go into. It was so cold Seungkwan could see his breath. 

“Oh, hyung,” Seungkwan breathed, “What did you do?”

Jeonghan looked serene, even as bruising was forming down the right side of his body. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent. 

Seungkwan stepped closer to the metal table, hands flexing open and closed, his heart a horrible bumpy rhythm in his chest. He didn’t cry, though, even as the coroner explained that Jeonghan hadn’t been in the water long, that he probably died on impact. Seungkwan thinks it was supposed to be comforting, that he meant it to be a relief that as soon as Jeonghan’s feet left the ground he was as good as dead, as soon as the door to Seungkwan’s apartment closed behind him. 

He pulled together the atoms of the static in his head to complete the picture himself. What steps led him to be here, how he’d never be able to walk backwards away from this to rewrite a page. 

Seungkwan couldn’t take his eyes off Jeonghan’s body. He longed to touch him, a feeling that still hadn’t left him. He wanted to reach out and shake him awake, to scream at him for doing this to him and to Seungcheol and to his sister and his parents, who are still asleep an hour south of the city, bathing in a blissful ignorance that Seungkwan would do anything to experience.

He stood frozen to the spot until the coroner indicated that it was time for him to go. 

☾☾☾

In the car on the way home after they run out of things to say to each other Seungkwan opens his KaTalk to find a message from Mingyu. 

민규형

how was hyung???
i went for a walk this morning and said happy birthday to him 

it wasn’t like i expected it to be
seeing him in there
or not seeing him, i guess

:(
i’m sorry seungkwan-ah
it hasn’t been very long really
everything got back to normal so quickly i think we forget

yeah maybe
seungcheol-hyung did really well though
i wasn’t sure how he’d react

that’s good
i’m glad hyung is coping well
come see me soon so we can talk more okay???

☾☾☾

Visiting Jeonghan’s final resting place doesn’t provide the closure that Seungkwan privately hoped it would. He gets home to an eerily quiet apartment, Bunny nowhere to be seen. Jeonghan is still dead. A trip out of the city can’t fix that.

Seungkwan begins to move on autopilot. He goes to work and performs all the tasks required of him. He makes small talk with his coworkers, and laughs at his boss’ unfunny jokes. He eats when his body demands him to and feeds the cat on the same schedule as always. What remains of Jeonghan is still in an urn in Seongnam. Nothing has changed at all. 

He grabs a drink with Seungcheol, although they struggle to find a topic not related to Jeonghan to talk about. They were both friends with him before they were friends with each other and spent much of their time together coordinating on how to help him, as if their love was ever going to be enough to stop him. In hindsight, their efforts were in vain and now all they have is one another. 

It hangs over them, the elephant in the room to stare past. Seungcheol will say, “Remember when I let Jeonghan bleach my hair and I had to shave it off afterwards,” but he won’t ever say, “We couldn’t save him,” even if it’s true. 

Seungkwan goes on dates with Hansol that end with a kiss and a promise to see each other again. He spends nights at Hansol’s apartment, learning about where he went to school, what his sister does for work, his mother’s art and his passion for music. Hansol tells him all the silly things he believed as a kid, how old he was when he found out Santa Claus isn’t real and how the kids at school teased him for looking different to them. 

The conversation stalls when passed back to Seungkwan, brain wiped clean of any shred of information about himself. He’s not trying to withhold anything, he just doesn’t know what to say. There’s a part of his life, the entirety of his adulthood, that has a hole in it that Seungkwan hasn’t found the courage to explain yet. It grows more by the day, his memories swallowed up by the pull of the void. 

Hansol walks him home after dinner. They take the long way, through the park a few streets away from Seungkwan’s apartment. Seungkwan isn’t brave enough to take Hansol’s hand, so he reaches out with his pinky finger to brush the back of his hand, stomach jumping when Hansol returns the touch, little fingers curling around each other. 

It’s Friday in late October. Seungkwan can see his breath. 

“Are you coming up?” Seungkwan asks when they reach his building.

“Yeah, sure,” Hansol replies easily. “I didn’t bring an overnight bag or anything, though.”

“Presumptuous,” Seungkwan murmurs playfully.

“Sorry, should I book a taxi for midnight?”

“We’ll see how it goes,” Seungkwan says. 

As soon as they’re inside the elevator Hansol gets clingier, wrapping his arms around Seungkwan from behind and kissing the space behind his ear now they’re out of sight of potentially prying eyes. The intimacy isn’t unwelcome. There were times when Seungkwan would dream of having someone like Hansol by his side, someone who isn’t ashamed in the slightest to be with him. 

“Do you still have the cat?” Hansol asks when they make it up to Seungkwan’s flat. 

“Yeah, I do.” It’s been a while since Hansol last came over. They’ve been frequenting his apartment more often than not. Seungkwan feels at ease there, like it’s easier to escape his thoughts behind somewhere Jeonghan never was. 

“Damn, your friend has been away a long time,” Hansol says. The knife twists in Seungkwan’s gut. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, it’s Seungkwan’s lies coming back to bite him. It’s like the first night all of a sudden, which was barely any time ago at all. How all he hoped was that Bunny wouldn’t make an appearance, that he wouldn’t have to think about her or how cold Jeonghan’s hands were when he handed Seungkwan the carrier. 

Seungkwan doesn’t reply. He busies himself with making Hansol a drink while Hansol hangs his coat up and takes off his shoes. He needs to say something, but he doesn’t know where to start. There’s too much to cover and he hasn’t mentally prepared a plan. Hansol has to know if he’s going to be a part of Seungkwan’s life, if he’s going to meet his friends. He can’t keep it from him — and yet. 

“Mingyu-hyung keeps talking about us going out with him and his boyfriend,” Hansol says, joining Seungkwan in the kitchen. It’s too small for two adult men, but if anything it just gives Hansol an excuse to be closer to him. “You know his boyfriend right?”

“Mn, I remember when they met,” Seungkwan says. “It’s a little early to go on a double date, don’t you think?”

Hansol shrugs. “I guess. If you don’t want to, that's fine.” Seungkwan cringes at himself for putting his foot in his mouth. Hansol was just trying to be nice, trying to put plans in place for them because Seungkwan refuses to pull his own weight. 

“No,” Seungkwan rushes to fix it, “We should go out with them, it’ll be fun.”

“I’ve been meaning to bring this up, actually,” Hansol starts then, just as Seungkwan thinks he’s escaped it. His stomach swoops dangerously low. “I don’t know if there’s something going on behind the scenes, but if you’re not feeling this then that’s totally fine, just tell me and I’ll back off.”

Seungkwan wishes he were a better actor, that he had enough energy to put on a better facade. It’s draining, every part of it, treading water as the tidal wave crests over his head, knowing its crash is inevitable. 

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he turns to Hansol and reaches out to take his hand. 

“I am, I promise. I really, really like you,” he says one word at a time.

“It just kinda feels like you’re forcing it, you know,” Hansol says, but he squeezes Seungkwan’s hand like Seungkwan is the one that needs reassuring here. 

It’s going to come out now, isn’t it? He could keep lying, there are some routes he hasn’t tried yet. But then what? Where does the road end? Seungkwan is so tired of running away from it. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

They move to the couch. Seungkwan tucks a leg under himself so they can face each other when they talk. When Seungkwan lays his cards on the table and prays nothing is ruined. He hasn’t seen Bunny, but he knows she’s here, because she has nowhere else to go. Seungkwan has trapped her here to exist as a reminder to what they’ve both lost.

He feels it in his throat before he says it. Hansol who is honest with him, Hansol who he doesn’t want to lose like he’s lost others. It’s not the same, but it feels profound nonetheless. Hansol never lets go of his hand, lets him figure out where to begin. 

“I lied to you,” Seungkwan says. Hansol looks taken aback. It’s the last thing he was expecting Seungkwan to say. “I’m not watching Bunny for a friend,” he says, and then fidgets, “Well. I am, but he’s not on a business trip.”

“Oh, okay,” Hansol says. Seungkwan’s chest is tight. It shouldn’t be this hard, should it? 

“She belonged to my hyung, Jeonghan. He died in March. He killed himself.”

It occurs to him that it's the first time he’s said it out loud to anyone. Seungcheol told Jeonghan’s parents, he told Mingyu and the rest of their friend group. Seungkwan didn’t tell his coworkers. The shame he felt, the guilt of it. Sobbing on the phone to his sister back in Jeju, telling her Jeonghan had been in an accident. 

“I’m so sorry, Seungkwan,” Hansol says. 

Seungkwan continues, the dam broken, “Bunny was his cat, and he gave her to me the night he died. He came over to drop her off and said he was going on a trip and I believed him. I just took him at face value, I—” he cuts himself off. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, his lungs burning so bright it makes it hard to breathe. 

“You don’t have to tell me, if it’s too hard,” Hansol offers. He shuffles a little closer, strokes his thumb over the back of Seungkwan’s hand. 

“I want you to know. I don’t want you to think that I didn’t try. ”

“I don’t think anything,” Hansol says simply. 

Seungkwan rakes in a breath and pulls his memories together. “Hyung was always so flaky, especially when we were younger. He’d just disappear sometimes for days and he’d never say where he went, just that he was going. Seungcheol-hyung would call me and ask if I’d seen him sometimes, when he was starting to get worried and all I’d have to say was that I saw him a few days ago or something. He hadn’t done it since he got Bunny, and I just thought he was going back to his old ways, you know. I didn’t think— I didn’t—”

There’s a version of Seungkwan who asks Jeonghan where he’s going that night. There’s a version of him who sees behind his bravado, who feels something other than exhaustion when he sees Jeonghan standing in front of him. There’s a version of Seungkwan who convinces Jeonghan to stay the night just like there’s a version of him that calls Seungcheol as soon as Jeonghan leaves when he can’t talk him into it. 

There’s a version of Seungkwan who meets Jeonghan on the bridge, who stops him from jumping, who takes him home and sleeps half on top of him all night to stop him from leaving again. In the morning, that version of Seungkwan orders them both breakfast, and Jeonghan breaks down in the safety of Seungkwan’s arms. 

There’s a version of Seungkwan out there who didn’t meet Jeonghan when he was 19, who doesn’t cross paths with him even once until that night when he’s walking home across the bridge that Jeonghan is going to jump from. There’s a stranger under the streetlight, with his hands on the railings, and he’s shaking because it’s March and he’s not wearing a coat and he’s scared and this version of Seungkwan stops to talk him down from it. There’s a version of Seungkwan who keeps walking and pretends he doesn’t know what happens next. 

“It’s not your fault,” Hansol says, like it’s simple. 

He sniffs hard, eyes watery. He can still picture Jeonghan from that night in perfect clarity. His smile, despite his plans. How he knew then and there that was the last time he was ever going to see Seungkwan. How he made sure to tell Seungkwan that he loved him. How Seungkwan didn’t say it back. 

“It’s all I can think about sometimes, all the ways I could’ve stopped him,” Seungkwan admits. The first tears fall hot over his cheeks and Hansol is edging closer still to pull him into a hug, hand on the back of Seungkwan’s head heavy and comforting. 

He takes a gasping breath into the fabric of Hansol’s shirt. It’s never going to go away, some part of him thinks. The wounds will heal and the scars will fade but still shine when caught by the light. Seungkwan isn’t willing to face the possibility that he might forget that they’re there altogether, reminded only in passing when the right pieces are put into place. 

There’s movement beneath the bookcase that makes Seungkwan pull away from Hansol. Bunny crawls out from her hiding spot and eyes them both warily before padding over to the couch, placing each step with a calculated slowness, like she’s still not used to the layout of Seungkwan’s apartment. 

Seungkwan sniffs too loudly and wipes his eyes with his sleeve, a self-flagellating laugh in his throat at the state of him. It’s out there now. Hansol squeezes his hand and Seungkwan knows he isn’t going to leave.

“She’s always hated me,” Seungkwan says. “Ever since I met her.”

“She must miss him, too,” Hansol says. He reaches his free hand down over the side of the couch as an offering to her.

“He loved her so much, I thought it would be enough,” he says, voice miserably wet. It’s obvious that Hansol doesn’t really know what to say, so he squeezes Seungkwan’s hand again and lets him get the last of the tears out of his system. 

Bunny sniffs Hansol’s hand before she bypasses him altogether and jumps on the arm of the sofa behind Hansol. Seungkwan doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to her before without her running away. She stares at him with her huge amber eyes like she knows what he was just talking about, like she was listening in.

“Here,” Hansol says, taking his hand still linked with Seungkwan’s and twisting his wrist so he can offer Seungkwan’s hand to Bunny, who leans towards their linked hands with her little pink nose. Seungkwan holds his breath as Bunny tests the waters, deciding for the first time that Seungkwan is to be trusted, bumping her head against the back of his hand. 

“See, she just needed time,” Hansol says. 

Seungkwan uncurls his hand from Hansol’s as slowly as he dares, stroking the downy soft fur just behind Bunny’s ears. Her little chest rattles into a croaky purr that reminds him of the way Jeonghan used to laugh like he didn’t have enough air in his lungs. 

“Jeonghan-hyung would’ve really liked you,” Seungkwan murmurs. 

“I wish I got to meet him,” Hansol replies. 

“Me too.”

☾☾☾

The End: Before the Beginning

Jeonghan lingered behind as the rest of their friends started to make their way home, wishing Seungkwan a final happy birthday on their way out of his flat. His cheeks were dusted pink even though Seungkwan was pretty sure he only had one beer. Seungkwan himself kept it light, despite it being his own birthday party, the stress of planning the whole thing prevented him from getting sloppy enough to ruin it.

“Good party, Seungkwan-ah,” Jeonghan drawled from his position draped over Seungkwan’s couch like an oddly shaped throw. 

Seungkwan snorted and ambled over to him, moving Jeonghan’s legs so he could sit down on his own sofa. Jeonghan dropped them with an overly dramatic oof , grinning up at Seungkwan’s scowl.

“Don’t you have a cat to get home to?” Seungkwan quipped. 

“You want me to leave?” Jeonghan asked, making no move to get up at all.

“No, stay as long as you want, hyung,” Seungkwan said, pulling Jeonghan’s legs back over his lap, fingers dipping into the rips of his jeans, absently teasing patterns over the bumps of Jeonghan’s knee. “You can stay the night, if you want.”

Jeonghan hummed in contentment, purring like his little cat does. His eyes started to slip closed, dozing off on Seungkwan’s couch like he didn’t have a care in the world. Seungkwan knows better than that, but he’s not about to put his foot in it.

“Seungcheol-hyung was staring at you all night,” Seungkwan said. 

“That’s just what he does,” Jeonghan replied without opening his eyes. 

“Are you ever going to do something about it?” Seungkwan asked.

“Maybe,” Jeonghan hummed noncommittally. “We’ll see what February brings.”