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Life has been working funny lately, Taeyong thinks. He’s convinced someone or something cursed him for the entire week with just a bit too many moments of things going differently than how he intended them to be.
The other day, it was his car breaking down on his way to work. Yesterday, it was his computer shutting off mid-project. Then today. God. He was so excited to make blueberry pancakes like he usually does on Saturday mornings only to learn five minutes ago that 1.) he had run out of blueberries and 2.) his pancake mix has been expired for two weeks. Two! Weeks!!! So instead of a wonderful breakfast, he grumpily settles for a bowl of bland oatmeal because it’s the only one he has available.
God, he really needs to go get groceries. Maybe after he stops by the office.
Taeyong groans at the thought. When he woke up this morning, the first notification on his phone was an email from his boss asking if he could come to work to sign off on some important documents in his stead. Apparently, he’s already too busy wafting in the waters of Jeju with his family, so who else should do his job but his kind and agreeable subordinate, Lee Taeyong.
It’s not like he can complain anyway. He has just recently been promoted after all. But goddamn, what could possibly be so important that they had to disturb him on a freaking weekend?
“The entire publication process can’t go through without the papers, and we’d have to push the release back a couple of weeks,” his assistant tells him over the phone.
“Well, shit.” Taeyong just sighs because what else can he do?
He spends an extra five minutes in the shower just to regain some sense of control. It turns out to be a bad idea though. The hot water runs out about three minutes in. And again, Taeyong just sighs.
The sky decides to run against his favor today too. It was a light drizzle at first. Taeyong still had the chance to debate whether he should go back to his apartment and get himself an umbrella. Then it poured. And it sucks even more because he won’t be able to get his car from the repair shop until this afternoon.
Taeyong just looks up at the clouds and wonders if it’s mocking him. He grumbles, “Do you hate me today or what?”
But of course, it isn’t like there’s anything he can do about the weather, so he surrenders to his fate, runs back to his apartment and retrieves his umbrella. When he gets back on the street though, the downpour has died back to a drizzle. So instead of waiting for a cab, Taeyong just decides to walk to the nearest bus stop, humming to himself as if he wasn’t just about to blow up in frustration a few minutes ago. He figures if the world is going to be shit, he might as well romanticize it.
He sits in the last row of the bus. In front of him is an old couple who seems to have just finished their market run. The man is holding up today’s newspaper for both of them to read. He’s a faster reader, Taeyong noticed. But he waits until his wife finishes reading until he flips to the next page, no words needed, no questions asked.
Taeyong smiles to himself. Once upon a time, he had also basked in the warmth of a silence as comfortable as that, of a love that didn’t need much words to be recognized. Once upon a time, he loved. Now, he just wonders if there will ever be a moment when he closes his eyes that he will no longer see the same full lips and a certain cheeky dimpled smile.
The couple flips to the next page, and Taeyong’s eyes had to glaze over the headlines three times before he understood it: Jeonnong-dong Neighborhood Protests Against the Demolition of 75-year Old Restaurant Building.
“No…” Taeyong mumbles. He leans in and squints to see the photograph just below the headline. Even in black and white, he knows those dirty white walls and brick red posts by heart. He knows that building. That all too familiar signage of the Chinese restaurant from the ground floor used to cast its neon glow on his old apartment floor at night.
His heart drops. He hurriedly opens his phone to search for the article. He opens the first one: The Golden Wok To Close After 75 Years in Business. Fuck. He scans the article for the essentials.
…The building no longer complies with the city standards (Taeyong knew this even while he lived there.)… Repairs would be too costly (He knows this all too well, too.)… Wang Jun Jie, the 60-year old restaurant owner, is unable to find a successor… Residents and neighboring communities have staged a protest against the demolition…
Taeyong finds his fingernails in between his teeth. He doesn’t usually care for the morning news. Reports of demolitions aren’t something he’s often bothered by either. He doesn’t know much about architectural and engineering standards anyway, much less the city’s laws about it, but he knows they’re probably right. The building has served its time.
He stares at the photographs and it takes him back to once upon a time, a couple years ago, when he was still young and naive. Drunk on the desire to change the world (or to just survive), desperately navigating adulthood with the mind of a child, trudging through everyday with the most perfect boy. Once upon a time, life was perfect in that 18-square meter apartment even when he had nothing but a dream and the love of his life.
Some nights, Taeyong wonders how he ever survived with just that much and the answer is always the same. It was Jaehyun.
Jaehyun was a master at making everything look easy. He took a four-year bachelor’s degree and finished it in three. He juggled two jobs and his thesis during his senior year. And he somehow managed to make it seem as if he and Taeyong had the entire world in the palm of their hands even with a total of ₩100,000 in their bank accounts.
He would come home after a long day, tired off his wits but still with his usual cheeky dimpled smile. He’d be the one to urge Taeyong to take a break from the work he has brought home and invite him to watch a movie. They’d lay down blankets on the floor, and enjoy their dumplings and instant noodles, heads glued together while watching rom coms from Taeyong’s old laptop screen. They’d be too lazy to get up, so they’d just spend the night there, staring out the window, wondering what time would the restaurant turn their neon sign off. They usually did around 1 AM. That’s when Taeyong and Jaehyun would sleep.
Sometimes, Taeyong would ask silly questions, except they weren’t really silly because he truly wanted to know. “Are you happy?”
And Jaehyun would always hug him a little tighter and reply with some corny line, like, “As long as I’m with you, of course, I am.” And Taeyong would blush like an idiot, because fuck, that was all it took to make their lives seem perfect. And it was. Once upon a time, it was.
Taeyong arrives at work twelve minutes later than he intended. His assistant Mark is ready to greet him with all the paperwork. He looks at Taeyong with a sort of pity you would usually expect in much worse situations. “I would’ve signed them for you if I could,” he says. Bless him.
Taeyong only smiles. “It’s okay. No worries,” he replies, gesturing to his table. “Just leave them here, thanks.”
Mark bows politely, but he has always been a bit clumsy, possibly the clumsiest subordinate Taeyong has ever had the pleasure of training. So he should’ve expected that something would be accidentally knocked off his table as soon as Mark went near it.
“Oh, shi—” Mark gasps as a picture frame flies from the corner of the desk and lands on the carpeted floor with a thud. Mark quickly falls to his knees to retrieve it.
Meanwhile, Taeyong doesn’t seem to be fazed at all. He still manages a kind smile. “Don’t mind it,” he says before Mark can even apologize, grabbing the frame from the latter’s hold. The glass has cracked, but it doesn’t really matter. “It’s empty anyway.”
But because he is a kind soul, Mark still says, “I’m sorry, Sir.”
Taeyong just waves a hand in dismissal and quickly returns to the matter at hand. “I’ll bring the papers out later. Just take it easy today, yeah?” he tells the younger.
Mark patters off with yet another bow and yet another apology before finally leaving Taeyong alone with a shitload of paperworks and, unknown to Mark or anyone else, a piece of his broken heart in his hands.
With a sigh, he sets the frame down to its original place—beside the potted cactus at the top right corner of his desk, right where he can see it. The frame has been empty for years but Taeyong never wanted to take it down. He bought it from a street bazaar about a block from his old apartment, almost immediately falling in love with its hand painted abstract designs. He’s been meaning to get some photos developed just to keep the frame of use, but he just never got around to it.
He’d never admit it, but perhaps it has something to do with the fact that if he’s not being careful enough, his mind would supply him with the image that used to be there—of Jaehyun, standing by what used to be their kitchenette, caught mid-laugh with his dimples and whiskers on display.
Taeyong can still remember taking that photo like it was yesterday. It had only been a couple days since they moved in. All they had were paper plates and plastic utensils, a mattress, two pillows and a blanket. The owners of the chinese restaurant downstairs offered them some dinner as a welcome present. Taeyong remembers Jaehyun declaring that it was the best dumplings he’s ever had in his life. Taeyong agreed.
They finished their dinner mostly in silence. Jaehyun would occasionally moan in gustatory pleasure and Taeyong would just laugh at him silly. Jaehyun took the last dumpling that night. It didn’t really matter to Taeyong. He could tell how much Jaehyun loved it. But after dipping it in soy sauce, Jaehyun brought it to his hyung’s mouth and it was only after Taeyong bit one half that he allowed himself to finish the rest. Taeyong was certain he fell in love with him a little bit more then.
While they were cleaning up the containers, there was a thunderous sound that came from next door. Like a growl, almost animalistic but not quite. The two of them shared a look that was mostly what the fuck was that, but also a bit is it too late to refund the deposit? It took them a while to realize that it was just one of their neighbors snoring.
Taeyong was the first one to burst out laughing, but Jaehyun chuckled so hard that his face started to turn a bit red. Taeyong snapped the photo in that moment, just before Jaehyun magnetically attaches to him, grabbing him by the waist for not much reason besides to plant a small kiss on his temple and say, “Holy fuck, we might have just rented out a slice of hell here, don’t you think?”
“Well, it’s all we can afford, so.” Taeyong shrugs. Then the sound came again, and he fell to his knees, snorting out laughter through his nose. At the time, it was funny. At the time, he didn’t mind. He could be sleeping on the streets for all he cared, he’d still be certain he’d be fine as long as Jaehyun’s around. Everything seemed to be fine with Jaehyun around.
That’s just what love does to people, perhaps. It gives you these rose-colored glasses and suddenly the world is nothing but golden sunsets and happy dumpling nights, and whiskered dimples and cheeky smiles. And their 18-square meter apartment seemed enough to build all their hopes and dreams upon.
Because god, how he loved Jaehyun. Deeply and profusely, like that was the only way he knew how. He loved Jaehyun, but eventually, they learned to love themselves too. And for some reason, this self-love grew big enough to smash their rose-colored glasses and their apartment is suddenly just that—small, old, run down, and suffocating for two young men with dreams as big as theirs.
Which is precisely why he shouldn’t be sitting in his solo office, staring at an empty picture frame, wallowing in regret and self-pity while living the life he could only dream of having all those years ago. This is the decision he has made for himself. So he has to keep going. Because if he didn’t, then the things he sacrificed would’ve been for nothing. If he didn’t, then convincing himself he ever stopped loving Jaehyun would’ve been for nothing.
Taeyong finishes his tasks and clocks out before lunch. It’s still raining when he walks out. The sky seems to be mourning today, like the universe empathizes with him somehow. He blames it on the morning news. If he didn’t learn about the demolition, the walk back home would’ve been fine. But he spends half of it contemplating whether or not he should head to Jeonnong-dong and march with the protesters. Still, his feet lead him back to his apartment before he can even decide.
Most days, it feels great to go home. He’d always be excited to get out of his button down and slacks and change into his most comfy pajamas. He’d do a quick dinner prep and jump on his couch to indulge on his current Netflix binge, and the worries of the day would just retreat to the back of his mind, not to be thought of again until tomorrow.
Today though, he comes home and all he can think about is how the clock that hangs on the kitchen wall was a gift from Jaehyun’s mom for his 23rd birthday, and his collection of CDs are of the music Jaehyun loves listening to, and his couch is the same exact model of the couch he and Jaehyun used to sit at in Ikea, the one they used to daydream on.
(“We’d never get to do anything if we had a couch like this. I’d never get up,” Jaehyun said—actually more like, mumbled against Taeyong’s skin—one time. They were feeling a bit too at home that day, limbs all tangled together right in the middle of the store. No one seemed to care.
“Thank god we don’t have this couch then,” Taeyong chuckled teasingly. Jaehyun just shut him up with a kiss.)
Taeyong doesn’t like to believe that he intentionally structured his apartment to be a museum of his failed relationship. It’s not like he kept Jaehyun in mind when he was decorating the place. The lamp hanging above the kitchen table is something Jaehyun would definitely never choose, and neither is the bright orange rug in the living room or the stained glass ornament by the console table. These are Taeyong’s sense of style.
This place is Taeyong’s. Just Taeyong’s. And if anyone even suggests that he subconsciously scattered pieces of Jaehyun in his home because this is how he sees the life they could’ve created together, then Taeyong would just laugh and deny it vehemently.
In April, about three years ago, there was a huge storm that passed over Seoul. The power went out for the greater part of the day and well into the night. There were no neon lights reflecting against their old apartment floor, but they could hear the sign wildly creaking from the wind.
Like always, Taeyong was overtaken by his worries and sensibilities. He kept wondering what would happen if the restaurant sign broke off its hinges and smashed through their window. It was cold enough as it is. What more with the torrential winds outside?
Jaehyun held him close that night. They still had a single mattress on the floor but at least they were able to buy a comforter now. “Hyung, that sign hasn’t been changed since forever and worse storms than this have passed,” he told Taeyong. “It should make it through this one as well.”
What if it doesn’t, Taeyong thought. But he allowed himself to be kissed on the cheeks, on his temple, on the lips, allowed Jaehyun to wash his worries away. Still, they stayed there in the back of his mind. And somehow, Jaehyun could sense it. So he pulled his hyung even closer, and steered his eyes away from the spot in their ceiling where some mildew was beginning to form. The last time it rained this hard, that spot was leaking. They reported it to the restaurant owner and Mr. Wang was kind enough to help Jaehyun seal it off. It was fine now, but Taeyong still put a bucket under it just in case.
“Hey, have I told you about this place in Yongsan?” Jaehyun started, drawing circles on Taeyong’s back the way he knew would calm him. “My friend’s family owns a building there. They have a room about thrice this size, and it overlooks the city. Tiled floors, nice ceiling. There’s enough space for shelves too. You can finally display your ornaments, and I can finally stack my CDs.”
Taeyong hummed. This wasn’t the first time they talked about things like this—of a better place, a better bed, better ceiling. A better life. Some nights, they do it over dumplings. Other nights, they do it before going to bed. Or in the afterglow of intense love making. Each time, everytime, Taeyong felt hopeful. This time, he wondered how the fuck would they ever be able to afford that. But as in everything, Jaehyun seemed to have an answer to that question, too.
“You know I’ll be able to work full time once I graduate, right? With my income and yours, we can manage it, I think. Maybe in a year?” he mumbled against Taeyong’s temple.
“Still sounds like a tall order,” Taeyong remembers saying with feigned nonchalance.
Jaehyun just shrugged. “True,” he admitted. “But I think we can make it work,” he said, then he added in a sultry whisper, “They have sound-proofed walls, hyung. You won’t have to worry so much about the neighbors hearing us anymore. You won’t have to hold it in.”
Taeyong made a sound between a gasp and a snicker, and smacked Jaehyun right in the chest. “You little shit,” he said.
Taeyong wills himself out of the memory as his stomach grumbles. It’s only when he opens his fridge that he remembers. Right, he needs to get groceries. All he has now is an almost expired box of orange juice, a tupperware of cucumber kimchi, and some frozen carrots.
He can probably make a dinner out of these if he wanted, but he doesn’t feel like eating anything half-assed today. It’s his day off, for fuck’s sake. He needs something real.
So he grabs his coat and makes a mental list of the things he needs to restock on before heading to the nearest supermarket, about fifteen minutes away. He gets there in twelve.
Taeyong usually likes to take his time with his groceries. He’d carefully check the prices of each item, compare everything until he finds the most practical choice. He’d allow himself a bag of candies or two, maybe even a tub of ice cream if his budget allows. Today though, he’s simply too out of his own head to bother, afraid that if he spends too much thought on every little thing, he’d most definitely find himself in yet another memory of the life he used to have two years ago.
So he makes quick work of his time. He grabs his essentials—cereal boxes, pancake batter, milk, eggs, soy sauce, sugar, sesame oil, some produce—all in the same size and brand as he had previously bought. He still allows himself to overthink on whether or not he deserves some ice cream this week though. But then he catches himself sighing at the thought of coming home to an empty apartment, so he figured why the fuck not? He works hard. Who else deserves some goodass chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream if not him?
Taeyong bites back a smug grin and heads to the freezers. He scans them for his favorite brand, one a bit more pricey than the others, but it’s okay because he’s willing to spend more on this indulgence. He opens the freezer door when he finds it, and is just about to grab a tub when he hears an all too familiar deep and thunderous laugh somewhere outside his field of view.
The world seems to halt. His heartbeat climbs up his throat, booming so hard that he begins to feel his head shake. His knees seem to have forgotten how to carry the weight of his body, and now he’s clutching on to his grocery cart for dear life. Jesus. What in the fuck is the universe getting him into?
Taeyong forces himself to look around, finding the source of the sound just to be sure. As if he hasn’t memorized the exact timbre of Jaehyun’s laugh, as if he hasn’t heard it a million times in a million different ways, as if he didn’t used to draw it out of him with a silly inside joke or a ticklish poke in his belly.
And sure enough, there he is. Standing among the rows of fresh fruits and vegetables, a phone to his ear, hugging a pile of bananas to himself with a huge shit-eating grin is Jeong Jaehyun. And fuck if it didn’t sting seeing him so far and so happy.
He hasn’t seen Taeyong yet, it seems. He’s still busy with the call. And with that smile… god, Jaehyun definitely enjoys talking to whoever’s on the other end of the line. Like all the other times he has thought of him, Taeyong denies how this one leaves an ache in his chest, too.
He tries to move but his feet have somehow planted themselves to the ground. His mind has been stuck in the same loop for the past two minutes. Should I go say hi? Should I just go? Should I go say hi? Should I just go?
And it’s only when Jaehyun drops his call and looks around that Taeyong’s rationality comes back and hits him like a two-ton brick.
It’s been two years since the last time they saw each other. Two years since they said goodbye. Two fucking years and he still believes he won’t be able to handle the next confrontation, the awkward small talk and how have you beens, refusing to meet each other’s eyes, pretending like they didn't spend nights carving every curve and crevice of their bodies into memory. Because how could he? He’ll look at Jaehyun’s face and he’ll wonder if there’s still anything in his eyes that would tell the world just how much he loved Taeyong once. And he’s afraid he wouldn’t find any, because why would he? It’s been two years.
Jaehyun has probably moved on. And Taeyong has convinced himself that their goodbye is no longer something he thinks about, too. They’re both doing great now, so why risk a new hello?
Taeyong quickly wills his eyes away from his past lover. He forgets about his ice cream and hurriedly pushes his cart to the other direction.
It was around the third year of their relationship when they first entertained the thought of breaking up. It started as a joke, a casual remark one of them made on a drunken night. It was Jaehyun who said it first if Taeyong remembers correctly.
It had almost been a year since they made plans to move out, find some place nicer. That place in Yongsan, Jaehyun said. They have a bed frame now, and the ceiling was no longer leaking. They even managed to replace their old toaster, the one that always burned their bread. They were definitely in a better position, but they had barely been able to afford anything, much less a better apartment in a better part of town.
Their commute alone takes up a significant portion of their expenses. After graduating, Jaehyun landed a job at a large engineering firm in Chuncheon, about an hour away from Seoul on a good day. Some days, it takes him nearly two hours. He would wake up at 6AM in hopes to beat the morning rush. He’d come home at 8PM, sometimes 9. The circles under his eyes had gotten darker, his cheeks hollower. Jaehyun never complained, but Taeyong could tell how frustrated he was getting. They realized it too late, really, how they were so focused on trying to make their life together better that they’re slowly losing a sense of their own.
“Hyung.” Jaehyun called. Taeyong took him out for a drink one Saturday night. They both needed some de-stressing. “I don’t look at you much lately, don’t I? When did you even get your hair dyed?” he asked in a drunken haze.
Taeyong laughed at him then. “I didn’t,” he replied, a hand flying to the back of his head to scoop up some strands. He hasn’t dyed his hair in so long. He never has the time. “It’s just the lights, Jaehyunie. Since when did your eyes get so bad?”
“Hey, it’s not!” Jaehyun chuckled too, shaking his head. “Jesus, we can barely keep up with each other these days, huh. We might as well just live separate lives at this point.”
“You mean like break up?” Taeyong asked. He meant it lightheartedly, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to swallow them back up.
Jaehyun looked at him like he couldn’t decide if he should agree or be offended. He shook his head slowly, like he was just testing it. “No,” he said. Then again, as if he needed some convincing, “No. That’s not what I—”
Taeyong laughed again, but it sounded so forced it was just pathetic. “I know, love. I was kidding,” he replied.
When they got back to their apartment that night, Taeyong took a quick shower and changed into his pajamas. Jaehyun didn’t even get a chance. As soon as he laid down on their mattress, he was gone, beating the neighbors in their unofficial snoring competition. Taeyong cleaned up Jaehyun’s face with a wet wipe and changed him into his own sleepwear before kissing him goodnight and tucking himself into Jaehyun’s side.
That night, it wasn’t the neon lights from the chinese restaurant that kept him awake. It was Jaehyun. We might as well just live separate lives, he said. And curse himself as he might, all Taeyong could think about was what if he’s right?
Taeyong should have known it was too early to breathe a sigh of relief when he got to the self-checkout counter. He was carefully placing his items in plastic bags when he noticed a figure hovering beside him.
You could hear the smile in the person’s voice when they said, “Need any help with that?”
And it happens again. Taeyong’s entire world stops spinning and it somehow feels like the earth is dissolving beneath his feet. He finds himself hoping to disappear with it, but he also wills himself to look, already expectant of what he’ll see.
That goddamn cheeky dimpled smile. “Hyung.”
Fuck, was all Taeyong could think of in reply. But instead, he says, “Jaehyunie.” He pretends he doesn’t hear how endeared the name sounds from his tongue still.
“Hi,” Jaehyun greets.
It sounds ridiculous, Taeyong thinks. He says it back. “Hi.”
It’s only now that he realizes his entire body has frozen. He tries to shake his head off and continue with packing away his groceries. “I, uh—” Taeyong clears his throat. He can’t help but notice the same pile of bananas in Jaehyun’s arms. And a bottle of strawberry yogurt drink. Huh. Jaehyun hated that drink, but Taeyong used to buy it a lot. “I’m almost done here, so you can just—”
Jaehyun cuts him off with a gentle chuckle. “It’s good to see you too, hyung. But you don’t look even halfway done, so let me, okay?” he says kindly, setting down his items on the counter before proceeding to open up a plastic bag. “Hand me the fresh produce.”
“Jae, you don’t have to,” Taeyong whines, but does as he’s told anyway.
It’s almost like Jaehyun couldn’t hear him. “You still buy these in sachets?” he asks, stacking his packets of sesame sauce in the bag. “You’ll save more with the bottle.”
“I know. But it’s easier to measure that way,” Taeyong explains. “What are you even—hey, be careful with the eggs!”
“Relax,” Jaehyun says, “they’re fine.”
Taeyong exhales sharply. The ache in his chest is there again. And in his head plays a very similar scene from their many grocery runs all those years ago. Taeyong would punch in their items, anxiously watching if their total price would rise beyond their intended budget, and Jaehyun would be there packing the groceries in plastic bags, assuring him that it won’t because he made sure that they could afford everything that lands on their cart. Yes, even the little hershey's bar he’d occasionally slip in for when he felt like they deserved it.
“There. All done,” Jaehyun announces. Three large plastic bags, all done and ready to go. “Can you carry all these by yourself?”
Taeyong frowns. “What do you think of me?”
“No. It’s just, with your shoulder—is it fine now?” Jaehyun looks at it worriedly. Taeyong’s left shoulder, the one he dislocated after falling from their old kitchen table while trying to change the lights. It used to hurt on colder nights. Jaehyun would rub some sort of minty balm on it, and that seemed to make it go away.
“I don’t even think of it anymore,” Taeyong said, his voice small. He waves a hand and urges Jaehyun out of the way. “But really, it’s fine. It’s just a short walk to the bus stop anyway.”
“You’re taking the bus?” Jaehyun is already punching in his bananas.
Taeyong is already strategizing how he’ll distribute the weight of the three plastic bags between his good arm and his bad shoulder. He didn’t used to think about this. “My car’s still in the shop, so.”
“I can drive you,” Jaehyun offers. He’s already sliding his card for payment. “I have nothing else to do anyway.”
Taeyong’s eyebrows furrow. Huh. What is Jaehyun doing in Seoul? Last he heard from Johnny, Jaehyun is living with his cousin somewhere in Incheon. That was, what, a year ago? Has he moved back to Seoul? If yes, why hasn’t Taeyong heard anything from their friends? (Apart from his very specific request to not let him know anything about Jaehyun if they don’t want him to re-witness every circle of hell, of course.)
But again, Taeyong only says, “You don’t have to.”
“I want to, hyung,” Jaehyun insists, grabbing the bag on Taeyong’s left hand, not really leaving any room for protests. “Just let me.”
Jaehyun used to say that a lot, too. When Taeyong would be reading his transcripts with eyes half closed, and Jaehyun would massage his shoulders to help him relax a little; when Taeyong would be stressed out balancing their finances, and Jaehyun would always come up with some smart compromise; even when they shared their first set of dumplings and Jaehyun wanted to give him the last bite, the conversation was always the same.
You don’t have to, Taeyong would say. I want to, hyung. Just let me, Jaehyun would always reply.
And just like all those times before, Taeyong does let him. Because he rarely ever wins when Jaehyun really wants something. So he waits by the doors of the grocery store as Jaehyun brings his car around, lets him baby Taeyong’s left shoulder, and lets him drive him home.
The ride is quiet for the most part. A little too quiet, Taeyong thinks. The clicks of the turn signals echo in his head, filling up the void where their voices should be.
In the silence, Taeyong takes his time admiring the interiors of Jaehyun’s car. Beige leather seats, a wood-like finish on the armrests, a wide dashboard and a lot of leg space. Not too bad. Although Taeyong prefers his seats black. It takes less effort to clean.
And from the passenger’s seat, he stares at Jaehyun’s hand on the steering wheel, watching his veins dance around as it clenches and taps random rhythms. It’s barely noticeable, the little stripe on his ring finger, a bit fairer than the rest of his skin. Taeyong feels his breath getting caught up in his throat, but before he can give it more thought, Jaehyun breaks the silence.
“Hyung.”
Taeyong turns to him, silently praying that whatever hurt he’s nursing in his chest right now isn’t showing so much in his face. “Yeah?”
Jaehyun doesn’t reply right away. He bites the inside of his cheeks, the shell of his ear turning a familiar bright red. He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“What?”
No answer.
“Jaehyun.”
“It’s nothing!” He repeats, letting out a faint chuckle as he steals a glance. “God, you’re still so—” he catches Taeyong glaring before he can finish that sentence so he quickly backtracks. “I was just going to ask if you wanted to go straight to dinner with me, but I remember you have frozens with you and you probably need to go home.”
“Oh.” Taeyong feels his cheeks burning. Somehow, it also feels like someone has dumped a bucket of ice cold water over his head. He tries to think of a reply, but Jaehyun doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, he just smiles and says, “Some other time maybe.”
“Tomorrow?” Taeyong tries.
“I, uh…” Jaehyun shakes his head, lips drawn to a tight smile. “I won’t be in the city by then.”
And again, all Taeyong managed was “Oh.”
Silence engulfs them once more. It’s the irritating kind, the one where every person in the room can tell that something heavy hangs in the air but no one wants to acknowledge it. There are a dozen questions Taeyong wants to ask, and judging by the way Jaehyun’s fingers are still fidgeting, there still seems to be a few words dangling on the tip of his tongue too.
This is a very familiar feeling, Taeyong thinks. His last memories of their relationship are much like this one, both of them walking on eggshells, choosing silence in favor of potentially hurting each other, stuck without words, anxious to escape but afraid to disappoint. It was a time when staying together felt more like a task, a moral obligation that they couldn’t just abandon. Until they did. And even that, they did mostly in silence too.
It happened on a Wednesday in May. It was already 1 in the morning yet both of them remained awake in bed, just staring at the ceiling, both too tired to talk, still reeling from the emotional highs of their last argument.
Thinking back, Taeyong no longer remembers what it was about. Something trivial, he supposed, like all their other arguments from the days before. Last week, it was about some dishes they forgot to wash, then about some noisy door hinges, then the little stains on their sheets. Yesterday, it rained hard and their ceiling started leaking again. They fought about that too, trying to find someone to blame. But it was no one's fault. Their apartment was simply too old and too shitty and it felt a little bit like it wanted to spit them out.
It was never about anything too big, really. Just simple problems requiring simple solutions. But with exhausted minds and bodies in constant survival mode, the tiniest inconvenience always felt like a two-ton burden. It became so bad that there were days when they hated each other.
Taeyong would be fine doing chores by himself but then Jaehyun comes home and suddenly he’s irritable. Jaehyun would be excited to come home, but the moment Taeyong tries for some intimacy, he backs away.
It was almost like they were already subconsciously giving up before they could even recognize what they were feeling. And that night, it came almost like an impulse, a thought they could have chosen not to have acted on but did so anyway, blindly hoping it might change them for the better.
“Jaehyun, are you tired?” Taeyong asked. Simple and straight.
Jaehyun was about an inch away from him, close enough that he could still hear him breathe, but far enough that no points of their skin were touching. It felt farther still because Taeyong felt like he couldn’t touch him. Like he wasn’t allowed to.
“Huh?” was Jaehyun’s reply. “What do you mean?”
Taeyong exhales deeply. “Are you tired?”
“Tired how?”
“Just tired.” Taeyong racked his brain for a decent explanation but his words were failing him. “Of this. Of living like this, like we’re trying to fill these bottomless jars and it’s not really getting us anywhere.”
Jaehyun shifted on his side and turned to his hyung. That was the first time in a long time that Taeyong couldn’t read what’s in his eyes. “Are you?” he asked.
Taeyong paused for a moment, trying to weigh his thoughts. “We’re getting on each other’s nerves, Jaehyunie,” he replied. “We’re not supposed to be like this. But at this point, it’s getting hard to picture us any other way.”
Jaehyun chewed on his lip slowly, then he said, “That’s not really answering the question, hyung.”
Taeyong somehow managed to muster up a small chuckle. “Well, you didn’t answer me either, smartass,” he pointed out. “Are you tired?”
Jaehyun’s eyes wandered around Taeyong’s face, like they were mapping the shape of his mouth, the dip on his nose, the scar just below his right eye. Jaehyun looked at him like he knew that was the last time he would be looking at him in this way. Perhaps, it made sense how his voice was barely a whisper when he answered, “I’m fucking exhausted.”
Taeyong pressed his lips in a tight line and nodded. “Me too,” he replied, and slowly he felt the hole etched into his heart getting a bit bigger.
And then the silence. The horrible kind. Taeyong half-wished someone would just scream.
“What are you thinking?” Jaehyun asked.
Taeyong took a deep breath, mustering up some courage to say what he needed to. “I think your mom was right,” he muttered.
Jaehyun frowned. “Right how?”
“When she first visited us here and you went down to get us some dumplings, I think she saw the leak in the ceiling. She made some comments about how you and I live. And she said you always liked rushing into things, and that often makes you settle for less.” Taeyong stared at it, that terrible fucking spot in their ceiling. He remembers wanting to blame everything on that. “I sometimes think she didn’t just mean that about the apartment.”
Jaehyun studied his face again, calculating. There was an attempt at a smirk on his face, but Taeyong could tell he was hurting too. “Since when do you listen to my mom?”
“Since I realized she only wanted what’s best for you,” Taeyong answered.
“So, what are you saying?”
Taeyong sighed, his hands clenched into fists by his side. God, he wanted to punch something so bad. “I’m saying that she’s right,” he said again. “Maybe if you just… take a bit of time, you might find something less hellish than this.”
Jaehyun bit the inside of his cheeks. “Are you saying I should?”
“I’m saying there are better ways to live, and you won’t find it in this goddamn apartment. Maybe not even with me,” Taeyong answered. And he believed it was true. Every word.
But fuck it if there’s also a part of him that just hopes for Jaehyun to tell him that he’s wrong, that his mom was wrong, that he wasn’t settling for less, that this was it for him, that even if it was a fucking hell, they’ll find a way to make it work because this is still what he wants anyway. A life with Taeyong is still what he wants anyway. But that’s already asking too much.
So he understood when Jaehyun averted his gaze and stared back at the ceiling. There was almost no hesitation in his voice when he asked, “Do you want us to stop?”
“I just…” Taeyong still had the mind to shrug. “I don’t think we deserve to be so goddamn tired all the time, Jaehyunie,” he replied. “I mean, look at us. We just fought over—” oh right, he remembers now, “—some mugs. Mugs, Jaehyun. Do you realize how stupid that is? Don’t you think there’s so much more you can do than…” he gestured vaguely to their apartment, then a bit to himself too. “…all this?”
Jaehyun thought for a moment, but he said, “You’re not answering the question, hyung,” Jaehyun said again. “Do you want us to stop?”
No, Taeyong wanted to say, I hate these stupid arguments but I’d rather have them with you than none of you at all. I hate that fucking ceiling but I’d rather have that than live without you under the same roof. Right now, I hate living, but I don’t mind the suffering if it’s with you. Taeyong felt something in his chest snap. I love you, he wanted to say. And that seemed like more than enough reason to answer, “Yes.”
A long, fucking horrible pause. The world could have ended right then and there, and Taeyong would have been grateful.
“Okay,” Jaehyun said finally. “Then we stop.”
And that, they did.
Taeyong remembers being confused. Are endings supposed to be this quiet, he wondered. Shouldn’t there be crying and screaming and breaking down? They were saying goodbye to a three, almost four year relationship, for fuck’s sake. Weren’t they supposed to be cursing the world somehow?
Perhaps. But Taeyong realized later on that the reason he didn’t cry so much that night was because he didn’t really believe that that was it. He didn’t think that was goodbye. That was I’m tired, I need to be alone, but I’ll see you later. You figure out your life, I’ll figure out mine, then we’ll see each other later.
But then two months have passed and it's Wednesday again. Around 6 PM, he was sitting alone at his new apartment, with his new dining table, exhausted from work, wanting to tell someone about his day, realizing he wanted that someone to be Jaehyun. So he took his phone and dialed Jaehyun’s number. He tried three times, but it was unreachable. Jaehyun had changed his number, had cut off contact.
That was only when it sunk in. That was it. They had said goodbye. It was only from that night (and on the many nights that followed) that Taeyong cried and cried until he couldn’t anymore.
The car pulls over right in front of Taeyong’s apartment building. They both stayed unmoving for a while—Jaehyun with his hands stuck on the steering wheel, and Taeyong almost frozen in his seat. It takes about a minute before Jaehyun unlocks the doors and says, “I’ll help you with the bags,” the same time Taeyong says, “Let’s have dinner together.”
Jaehyun stares at him. Fuck. “Let’s what?”
“Din…ner?” Taeyong quickly backtracks. “I mean, if that’s—” he clears his throat. “If you still want to, that is.”
For about ten seconds, Jaehyun continues to keep his gaze at him. Then without saying a word, he finally opens the door and exits the car to open the trunk. Taeyong, confused as hell, quickly follows.
“Jae—” he calls, only to find the little fucker pretending to be busy with the grocery bags, biting the inside of his cheeks, the tips of his ears already a shade shy of cherry red. “Jesus, I thought you were mad.”
“I kinda am,” Jaehyun huffs, awfully and obviously still trying to fight back a smile. He carries Taeyong’s grocery bags in both hands, gesturing for his hyung to close the trunk. “You had me driving anxiously for five minutes, wondering if I overstepped this very civilized relationship by asking you out to dinner.”
Taeyong scoffs. “How is that—” he groans. “Fine, I’m sorry. But you caught me by surprise. What did you want me to say?”
Jaehyun finally lets himself break into a laugh. “Relax, hyung. I’m kidding. I just can’t believe you agreed.”
“Well, you said you won’t be here by tomorrow, so.” Taeyong shrugs. “I mean if I don’t agree to it now, who knows when I’ll see you next? You might already have kids by then, then I’ll have to treat your entire family. It’s way more expensive than just having the good old catch up dinner now, right?”
Jaehyun snorts. He’s looking at Taeyong as if he can’t decide if he should ride in with the joke or be uncomfortable with it. “I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t hear any of that,” he says with a sigh. He raises the grocery bags in his hands. “Can I help you bring these up?”
“No, I got them.” Taeyong tries to grab the bags from Jaehyun, but the latter quickly moves them out of his reach.
“That was actually me politely asking if I can come up to your apartment, hyung. I didn’t actually want you to take them,” Jaehyun explains almost dejectedly, as if he expected Taeyong to have gotten that hint somehow.
Taeyong frowns because he expected for Jaehyun to just know that yes, of course, he’s welcome in his apartment. Duh. But perhaps, reading between each other’s lines is a skill of theirs that has rusted from their years without practice. (Or maybe they just really suck at this communication bullshit and they both have several issues to work on.)
“Yeah,” Taeyong says, still with that frown. “Of course, you can. I might take a while anyway. Did you expect me to just let you wait out here?”
Jaehyun shrugs, a small smile painted on his lips. It looks almost sad. “I don’t know, hyung. It’s hard to tell with us these days.”
Taeyong still has the nerve to roll his eyes. “Well, come on,” he grumbles, opening his palm to the direction of his apartment. “And for fuck’s sake, Jae, just please give me the bags. My shoulder is perfectly fine.”
“Fine. Bring this one,” Jaehyun says, handing him the lightest of the three, clearly betting his life on a smug smirk and a charisma he knew Taeyong wouldn’t be able to resist. He doesn’t really give his hyung much room to argue. Instead, he asks, “What floor did you say your apartment was on again?”
Naturally, Taeyong gives up with a sigh. “Third. Second door on the right.”
Taeyong goes through a 30-second mental breakdown as they go up the stairs. Is his apartment okay? Did he leave a mess earlier that he meant to get back to after his grocery run? Shit, what would Jaehyun think if he sees his mom’s clock in Taeyong's kitchen? Taeyong is just beginning to regret his decision of ever agreeing to bring Jaehyun here in the first place, but then he trips on a step and that somehow snaps him out of the spiral.
“You okay?” Jaehyun asks, immediately moving both grocery bags in one hand to offer Taeyong the other.
“I’m okay,” Taeyong answers with a dismissive wave, but honestly, he wouldn’t have minded accidentally hitting his head on the next step.
Unfortunately, they arrive at his apartment with no other casualties. Jaehyun is quick to offer his help in sorting through Taeyong’s groceries. He places the cans on the shelf while Taeyong stocks the frozen goods in the fridge. At one point, Jaehyun says something about how they never would’ve been able to afford half of these items back then. Taeyong says something about things just having a way of getting better eventually, to which Jaehyun replies, “Well, not all things.”
Taeyong frowns at that but he decides not to pry. He’s certain that whatever would come out of that conversation will hurt them somehow.
Jaehyun seems to think the same way too. “Where did you say you wanted to eat again?” he asks instead. They’ve already gone through most of the groceries.
Perfect timing. Taeyong’s stomach has started growling. “I’ve been thinking of dumplings all day,” he admits.
“You mean the ones in—”
“Yeah.” Taeyong sighs. “They’re already closed though. They’re demolishing the building.”
“They’re what!?” Jaehyun looks as shocked as Taeyong was when he first heard the news. He takes his phone out to find an article.
“I know. I just found out this morning. There’s a protest going on down there.” Taeyong shrugs dejectedly. His stomach grumbles again.
“Well shit. I was wondering if I could get some takeout from there before heading home.” Jaehyun frowns at his phone. “This sucks.”
“We could get some takeout now,” Taeyong suggests. He just finished stocking his fridge. “There’s that other place we used to like, right? The one that sells xiao long bao. What’s it called again?”
“Fuck, I forgot.” Jaehyun snaps his fingers as if that would make remember it somehow. “The one near the university?”
“Yeah, that. Do you want to just order in?”
Jaehyun studies him carefully. “Are you okay with me being here for a while?”
Taeyong just shrugs. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t,” he says, and he realizes he isn’t just saying that out of courtesy. Sure, there’s a part of him that wouldn’t mind if the building suddenly collapsed, but like before, things are just… well, easy with Jaehyun. Ironic as that sounds.
“Then okay,” Jaehyun smiles.
They decide to wait on the couch, drinking Milkis. Taeyong turns his TV on, and for a while, the two of them pretend to pay attention to whatever Yoo Jae-Seok is saying. Jaehyun keeps stealing glances and Taeyong pretends not to notice. He knows there are words between those eyes but he’s scared of hearing them just yet. So he bites back a sigh and takes out his phone, praying to whatever higher being is watching over them right now to pretty fucking please send him a notification that their food is on the way.
It comes about two minutes later, when he’s actually beginning to get a gist of what the show on the TV is about. “Food’s here,” Taeyong says, getting up from the couch a little too hurriedly.
Jaehyun doesn’t back down. “I’ll get it,” he says, standing up too. “You can prepare the plates and stuff.”
Taeyong blinks. “We’re not eating from the container?” He fakes a gasp, pretending to take offense. “You’ve changed, Jeong Jaehyun.”
“Hey, I was just worried because you used to hate eating from containers!” Jaehyun scoffs.
“Well, I’m not in the mood to wash dishes today, so.” Taeyong shrugs before shooing Jaehyun away. “Anyway, enough banter. The delivery guy’s waiting. I’ll go get us more drinks.”
Soon enough, they’re both sitting cross-legged in front of the couch, munching on xiao long baos and stir fried vegetables. They never talk while eating, always too hungry to say a word. This is one of their shared silences that never fails to be comfortable. It’s one of Taeyong’s old favorites.
So naturally, his anxiety sets back in after they’ve inhaled their dinner and settled back on the couch.
Jaehyun is looking at him again, and this time, Taeyong forces himself to return the gaze. “Do I have something in my face?” Taeyong asks.
Jaehyun only chuckles, shaking his head as he looks away. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I just can’t tell what you’re thinking about.”
A thousand things run through Taeyong’s mind all at once. Them before. Them now. Jaehyun, his stupidly handsome face, his life, that trace of band on his ring finger. Taeyong tucks his legs under him, letting his head fall back on the couch. “Why, what are you thinking about?”
Jaehyun runs a hand through the upholstery. “That I have this exact same couch but in gray.”
This exact same couch. The one they used to daydream on at Ikea. Taeyong decides to be cheeky. “Coincidence?”
And Jaehyun decides to humor him. “Yeah. I got mine cause it was on sale,” he scoffs sarcastically. “Was yours too?”
Taeyong snorts and smacks him lightly on the chest. Jaehyun laughs, catching his hyung’s hand before it flies off again. Taeyong stares at it, that band on Jaehyun’s finger. He quickly pulls his arm away.
It’s quiet again for the better part of a minute. Both of them are just staring at nothing, probably wondering how they will go about with the rest of the night. Somewhere in the vast whiteness of his mildew-less ceiling, Taeyong finds enough strength to finally ask.
“Jae?”
“Hm?”
Taeyong gulps. “Have you been with anyone?” …since me, goes unsaid but hopefully heard.
Jaehyun has the nerve to smile. It was a small one, barely showing his dimples. “What do you think, hyung?”
“There was a ring on your finger.” Taeyong says it as if he needs it to be confirmed.
But Jaehyun looks at his hand as if he’s only just remembering that it’s been there. He laughs lightly, and god, Taeyong wants to smack him again. “I was supposed to go on a date tonight.”
“What?” Taeyong blinks.
“Ten has been setting me up with one of his college friends for weeks. I only agreed to it tonight because I’m in the city and so he’ll finally stop bugging me about it. That’s why I removed the ring,” Jaehyun tells him, obviously amused with himself.
Meanwhile, Taeyong feels as if his eyebrows are slowly falling off one by one. “Wait. I don’t understand. Why would you remove it? What’s the ring for?”
Jaehyun fishes something out of his pocket. A tiny blue velvet box, and inside it, two similar silver rings except one of them is a bit more tarnished than the other. “For us,” he says. “I bought this two years ago in a department store in Yongsan. I had to walk home from the station for a month to save up. That’s why I was always late. I just never found the right time to give it to you. And when we broke up… I don’t know. I just made a habit of wearing it, I guess.”
Taeyong feels pressure building up behind his eyes. He blinks and blinks, but that doesn’t seem to make it go away. “Why would you—” he stifles back a sob. “What… wh—Jaehyun. Why?”
“I was going to ask you to spend the rest of your life with me,” Jaehyun says quietly, rolling the more tarnished ring with his finger. “But we fought and fought and fought. It just never seemed like the right time. When I look back, I think I only did it because I already knew you were thinking of giving up and I needed a last resort. But no matter how I look at it too, I’d still want to have spent my life with you.”
Taeyong doesn’t hold back now. Well, it’s more like he’s unable to. He cries and he cries, like he did those nights before. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were right, hyung.” Jaehyun pulls down his sleeve and proceeds to wipe the tears off his hyung’s cheek. He’s staying unbelievably calm. It’s driving Taeyong insane. “When you said there were better things for me than what we had in that apartment, I knew you meant that about you too. We were so tired of each other all the time, hyung. We knew we had to get out, we just didn’t want to say it because we still hoped to make it work. I still think we could’ve if we wanted to. But when you said you wanted to end it, what else was I supposed to do?”
Taeyong shakes his head, burying his face in his hands. This. This is how breakups are supposed to look like. Crying, mourning, like the world is suddenly ending but you would mind because it’s not supposed to fucking end like this. Two years too late.
“I only said I wanted to because I thought that would make it easier for you,” Taeyong admits with a sob. “I didn’t think I was right for you anymore. You had so much to give, Jae, and I just ended up taking a lot of that.”
“But wasn’t that the point, hyung?” Jaehyun’s voice has broken too. “I’ll be busy thinking and worrying about you, and you’ll be busy thinking and worrying about me. Why would you ever think you were taking too much?”
“Because I was,” Taeyong whines. He doesn’t even notice he’s been holding Jaehyun’s hand. “And that was me thinking and worrying about you. I was weighing you down, Jae. Look at where you have gotten to without me.”
“I would’ve gotten here even if I was with you,” Jaehyun says softly.
Taeyong shakes his head. He finally has the nerve to smile now. “We don’t know that,” he says.
Jaehyun only shrugs. “I went back for you, hyung,” he says. “After a month or so, I quit my job in Cheongcheon and looked for internships in Seoul. They all offered me a lower position for less than what I made, but at least it was closer. Then I went back to our old apartment, but I was greeted by this tall, buff dude. At first, I was like holy shit was this who he replaced me with? But then I realized you just moved out.”
Taeyong laughs, playfully smacking Jaehyun again, on the arm this time. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah, well.” Jaehyun makes a face. “I didn’t know how to find you, so I thought you didn’t want to be found. I was so hurt that I just went and deleted all my socials and changed my number.”
Taeyong gasps. “I tried to call you but you couldn’t be reached. I thought you hated me.”
Jaehyun snorts. “Sorry, I didn’t want to talk to anyone for months because they just asked about you. So I went to my cousin in Incheon and he helped me get into my job now. So I guess, yeah, it worked. But here we are.”
Taeyong sighs. “Here we are.”
Jaehyun smiles sadly and doesn’t reply. Instead, he tugs on his hyung’s hand, and Taeyong understands it like a code. He scoots closer, his arms making their way to its usual place around Jaehyun’s shoulders while the latter’s snake around his waist. Taeyong buries his face on the crook of Jaehyun’s neck, slightly disappointed that the smell is no longer familiar. Still good, just not the one he has craved on nights when he missed Jaehyun the most.
But this feeling… god, this feeling of home just never gets old.
“I’m sorry I didn’t try harder,” Taeyong mumbles.
Jaehyun’s body shakes, and Taeyong has no idea if it was a laugh or a sob. He hugs him tighter. “I’m sorry I wasn’t braver,” he says. “I would’ve stopped you.”
“And it would’ve worked,” Taeyong chuckles. It sounds pathetic.
It’s easy to tell how easily they melt into each other still; how after all this time, all that distance, this still feels like the safest place on earth. It’s stupid and it’s crazy and it’s cruel, but it still holds true: everything is somehow ridiculously better with Jaehyun around.
Taeyong is the first to pull back from the hug. There is one detail he has overlooked. He suddenly feels horrible. “Didn’t you say you had a date tonight? Did you stand them up?”
Jaehyun’s cheeks flushes pink. “No. God, no,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I canceled.”
“You canceled?” Taeyong asks, like that’s impossible to believe.
Jaehyun just nods. “I saw you at the bus stop. I was getting some bandaid from the pharmacy beside the grocery store. I got blisters from my shoes.” He raises his heel up to show the Pororo-themed bandaid right behind his ankle. Taeyong giggles. “They ran out of the skin-colored ones.”
“So you chose Pororo.”
“It was either this or Thomas the train. You know how I feel about Thomas the train,” Jaehyun grumbles. But Taeyong only laughs at him harder. “Anyway,” Jaehyun tries to interject, “I didn’t know how to approach you or if I even should. So when I saw you go to the grocery store, I did too. But I couldn’t find you, so I stayed by the strawberry yogurt drinks, hoping I could run into you there. But you don’t drink them anymore, do you?”
“Not much. I started finding them too sweet.” Taeyong bites the inside of his cheeks. He feels a warmth rushing through his face. “And the bananas? Did you think I was gonna come by those, too?”
“No, they were just really cheap.” Jaehyun shrugs.
Taeyong chuckles. Then once again, they fall into silence but it’s more comfortable this time. The ceiling feels more like a friend now, like it would keep their secrets instead of screaming at them to get out. Taeyong lets out an exhale, like a breath he’s been holding on to for two years.
“So what do we do now?” Jaehyun asks with an equally relieved sigh.
“We should get ice cream,” Taeyong mutters, mostly to himself. He didn’t get to buy the tub at the grocery store when he ran away from Jaehyun. “I want some ice cream.”
“Ice cream, it is,” Jaehyun agrees, but neither of them make a move to get up. “Then after that?”
Taeyong hums. “Then you’ll go home, and I will too.”
Jaehyun turns to look at him again. His voice is barely heard when he asks, “Should I come back?”
To Seoul, the question supposedly meant. To you, Jaehyun probably meant too.
Taeyong gathers all of his will to stare back into the younger’s eyes. There it is, the thing he didn’t think he’d ever see, more than a trace of anything that tells the world just how much he loved Taeyong once, how much he loves Taeyong still. “Would you want to come back?” he asks back.
Jaehyun only smiles, amused. Then he looks away. “As long as you want me to, hyung,” he says, “Always.”