Archive of Our Own

It shouldn’t be as surprising as it is, but nothing has really changed in Hanbin’s hometown despite him having been away for months that had turned into seasons which had turned into nearly a year since he’d walked these still familiar streets. Sure, he had returned home for the winter holidays, a brief two weeks he’d spent almost entirely cooped up at home in order to avoid the frigid winter air, recuperating from the stress of his first semester of university and pretending like the real reason he was hiding wasn’t because he was too afraid to contact his former friends from high school. It wasn’t because there had been a falling out between them or anything. It’s  just, there had always been an unsaid sort of distance between them that Hanbin feared a year apart for university would only have made even more pronounced. All of them had known each other since kindergarten, since there was only one of each type of school in town, and Hanbin, who had only moved there at the start of his senior year of high school, could never quite follow all the inside jokes from the second grade or remember years-old gossip about the neighbors like his friends could. 

That’s the thing people don’t talk about when it comes to small town life. Sure, it’s picturesque, all multi-generational businesses and doors left unlocked because everyone knows everyone else and there’s never any crime, unless you find yourself stuck on the outside. Sometimes Hanbin feels a bit like this town is a painting, and he’s the viewer standing on the other side, watching the little residents move about inside the frame. The paint has long dried, no room to add a new character like him. Having lived through a variety of cities and towns due to his father’s job, arriving in this town once his parents had finally made the call to separate after years of  arguing and uncomfortable dinners, Hanbin had never really felt properly rooted anywhere. Still, he always believed there was a reason he felt most tied to this place, even if he’d only lived here a year. 

The reason(s) were his (arguably only) two friends from before university. Gyuvin Kim, two years his junior, had practically demanded his friendship once he found out that Hanbin had taken over the previously-defunct high school poetry club at the start of his senior year. It wasn’t so much that Gyuvin had been interested in writing poetry himself, but that the resurgence of the poetry club meant the return of the annual Valentine’s Poetry-grams. Though Hanbin had been unaware of the tradition when he’d taken up the mantle as club president, he took the task in stride, and wrote dozens of love poems on Valentine’s day as paid for by his peers, donating the funds raised to a local animal shelter afterwards. 

And though Hanbin would hardly call himself a poet, he did find a kind of enjoyment in observing his classmates and personalizing their poems, hopefully helping a few couples find their way to each other in the process. One of the couples Hanbin’s poetry had connected had been Gyuvin and his long-time crush Ricky Shen. A fellow transplant into their town, Ricky had something Hanbin could only dream of: undeniable coolness and, more importantly, athletic prowess. Finding himself a place on the varsity basketball team had been akin to gaining social acceptance, something Hanbin’s stint semi-anonymously writing love poems would never be able to achieve.

By the time the week of Valentine’s day finally rolled around, Hanbin had crumbled up the fifth draft poem for Ricky, which had been based on approximately 10% of all the sickening things Gyuvin had been telling him for the past two months (because any more than that and the five line poem would stretch into a multi-chaptered epic), and told Gyuvin to just say all of these things to Ricky himself. It’s not like Ricky had no idea who Gyuvin was, they shared two classes and lived down the street from each other. For all his over-excited enthusiasm and mild awkwardness, Gyuvin was a good person, and Hanbin was confident he stood a chance with the self-proclaimed love of his life. 

Gyuvin confessed on February 13th, too anxious to wait any longer, and if Hanbin isn’t the best man at their wedding, he’d probably be able to sue for the emotional damages they put him through for the rest of the year until he graduated because of their obnoxious, playfully-teasing brand of PDA. 

And Hanbin wasn’t jumping the gun by bringing up marriage early, apparently, it’s just what happens in a town like this. Though Hanbin had nervously skirted around any chance of actually meeting with Gyuvin when he’d been home for winter break (definitely not because he was too scared that something might have changed between them, like Gyuvin might have realized Hanbin’s insignificance after he’d entered and left his life in under a year, though he isn’t going to be honest with himself about that), Gyuvin made sure to keep him updated on local gossip over text. Already, two of the most popular high school sweetheart couples had gotten married, not even waiting long enough to have a summer wedding, tying the knot in late autumn and early spring respectively. While Hanbin hadn’t been personally invited, he’s sure his parents were, if there had been any invitations at all and not just an open invite to the whole town. Hanbin did his best to keep up with Gyuvin’s messages and felt endlessly guilty when the other’s messages would be left on delivered for days on end. That was just another thing Hanbin worried that Gyuvin resented. Instead of choosing to attend the local state university just an hour away from home like 90% of their graduating class, Hanbin had opted to enroll out of state. Though the school was only a four hour drive away, it put a physical distance between himself and the town that he struggled to fit into already. 

It was just easier to hide away with his novels and poetry books, to sit atop the highest bleachers looking down on the crowd, instead of being a part of it. This was the type of town where the football quarterback married the head cheerleader, the teachers at the high school taught the parents of his classmates, and the whole town shut down for a parade on the afternoon of homecoming. It was easy enough to pretend to fit into it as a high schooler, avoiding the hardest questions, and knowing just enough about the neighbors to participate but not lead a conversation. But after his first year of university, Hanbin doesn’t know where he can even pretend to fit anymore. 

Oh, and worst of all, his parents forced strongly encouraged him to get a job this summer. Of course the only businesses hiring for the summer were downtown, where the tourists and his former classmates ran amok since it was pretty much the only interesting part of this place, making it nearly impossible for Hanbin to achieve his goal of being perceived by absolutely no one he knew the whole summer. He admits from the start it was a lofty goal. Still, if he was able to hide inside his house all day like he had during the winter holidays, as was proven then, success was fully possible. 

The only redeeming quality of the matching teal cap and half-apron set mandatory for all employees at the ice cream shop was that, with the brim pulled low over his face, Hanbin was confident no one was going to recognize him. He’d taken the liberty of pinning his nametag as low on the apron as possible, meaning that if any customer wanted to read it, they were going to have to practically lean over the register to catch his name. It’s not like he expected anyone to greet him on the job, but even the risk of acknowledgement meant the whole town would know of his employment  in under three business days. Three was actually quite generous, but as news tended to get old quickly, the gossips were usually hungry for anything at all by the end of the week, even if it was about the irrelevant former poetry club president Hanbin. 

Unfortunately, his summer of peace is disrupted only an hour into his first shift. Gyuvin sidles up to the counter, distracted by the little drawings depicting their new summer menu, rattling off an order for one mango and one strawberry ice cream while Ricky just stares at Hanbin in silent amusement. Hanbin debates if it’s possible to get through this order without saying a word at all. If he just freezes in place, is it possible that he might faze out of existence before Gyuvin realizes who is serving him? 

It’s too late for that though, Ricky’s already seen him, and Gyuvin’s cat-eyed boyfriend is not one to let things go easily when there’s a joke to be made and a friend to tease. 

Hanbin clears his throat, “That will be five dollars, please.” 

Gyuvin’s eyes snap up from the board, arms flailing so wildly in his excitement that he nearly knocks the cap right off of Hanbin’s head. 

“Hanbin hyung! You didn’t tell me you were going to be working here this summer?”
Hanbin flinches slightly at the embarrassment of being caught, “It was a sort of… spur of the moment thing.” 

Honestly, the ice cream shop had been his last choice, but the local bookshop hadn’t been able to take him on due to slow business, and the ice cream parlor was the only option that met his mother’s demands. 

Ricky slides over a crisp bill while Gyuvin is distracted. Immediately, Gyuvin tries to slap Ricky’s hand away to pay himself, but the bill is already in Hanbin’s grasp, and if he lets them go like this it will be an hour before the transaction is completed. 

“Better luck next time,” Ricky goads. 

Instead of retaliating, Gyuvin just grins, “I’m sure. Because we’ll be here a lot to see Hanbin hyung, right?” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Hanbin scrambles to say, but it’s too late, Gyuvin looks resolved, and once Gyuvin has made up his mind on something, it’s pretty much impossible to change it. Usually, that’s something Hanbin appreciates about the younger. Now, not so much.  

“Are they still hiring more people? Maybe I should get a job here too…” 

“With those noodle arms?” Ricky prods at Gyuvin’s bicep, “Good luck.” 

Hanbin’s coworker swoops in with the two cones, saving Hanbin from being exposed to any further foreplay. “One strawberry, one mango,” He delivers the two cones with an encouraging redirection toward  the door. 

Finally noticing the line that had begun to form behind them, Gyuvin and Ricky wave goodbye after promising again to visit soon. Hanbin let out a breath of relief. That hadn’t been so bad, right? 

His coworker taps him on the shoulder, brows furrowed with a twinge of annoyance, “Swap with me. You’re on scooping duty since you take too long at the register.” 

Hanbin didn’t expect to spend his summer being bossed around by someone who looks to be no older than a sophomore in high school, but he supposes that’s what he gets for being the rookie employee. 

Their third coworker shows up around lunch time, and unfortunately for Hanbin, he looks like he might actually be a freshman. “I call waffle duty!” He announces, startling a child reshaping her ice cream sundae into some kind of lopsided castle structure in one of the booths. The ice cream is dripping all over the table, and Hanbin dreads his inevitable job of wiping the sticky mess up once she’s gone.  

In no position to disagree, Hanbin pretends like his arms haven’t begun to ache from all the ice cream he’s scooped that day so far. It’s 1 PM, just four more hours of this to go.  

With the kind of  practiced ease that can only come with extensive experience, the kid begins to operate the burning hot waffle iron that Hanbin had been afraid to touch all morning. Every time someone asked for a cone, he prayed to the universe they wouldn’t ask for a waffle cone and further deplete their already meager supply. 

Rolling the waffle while it was still warm to create a perfect cone shape, he looks between Hanbin and his coworker, as if analyzing the awkwardness between them. “You haven’t been giving the new guy a hard time, have you?” He asks.
Hanbin’s coworker crosses his arms and pouts. Immediately, he goes from intimidating pseudo-ice cream parlor manager to giant baby. 

“I haven’t!” 

The second worker turns to Hanbin, “Is this true?” 

“Er…” Hanbin stutters. How is it possible to be this uncool in front of literal children?
“Don’t let the attitude fool you, Gunwook hyung is a big softie. He just takes his job really seriously,” The kid reassures him. 

“Someone has to,” Gunwook grumbles, “Your mom trusted me when she gave me this job.” 

“You didn’t even have an interview. You got the job because you ‘babysitted me’ when I was in middle school, which by the way is humiliating because you’re only two years older than me, so she was basically just paying you to be my friend!” 

“And we spent that money well at the arcade right?” Gunwook argues.

“I suppose,” He doesn’t seem satisfied not having the last word, but he turns back to Hanbin nonetheless, “I’m Yujin. Mom didn’t tell me we were getting a new employee.” 

Relation to the ownership of the shop suddenly made Yujin’s confidence and waffle-making prowess make much more sense. Gunwook might have been the older of the two, but the younger one was clearly calling the shots since his arrival. 

“I only got back from university a few days ago,” Hanbin admits, then realizes that he just exposed his age to the high schoolers he’s going to be spending the summer with. Then again, it’s not as though he could pass as a high schooler anymore. With a graduating class of under one hundred, the two boys probably knew everyone already. 

“Wait, you’re in university?” Yujin asks, “And you chose to come back here?” 

“Well, there’s not really anything to do there during the summer,” Hanbin starts to explain before getting cut off. 

“Not like there’s much to do around here either,” Gunwook jumps in, “God, I can’t wait to get out of this place.” 

That’s the thing though. Everyone always says it, Hanbin has noticed, but no one ever actually does it. Somehow, everyone always finds their way back to this tiny town. Even Hanbin, who chose a college several hundred miles away, is stuck here again for the summer. There’s something about this place that draws people in, a kind of home that you can’t find anywhere else. 

For all their chaos and banter, Hanbin finds he quite likes working with Gunwook and Yujin. Upon learning of Hanbin's age, Gunwook does stop trying to direct him around as much, trusting Hanbin to figure out the art of making fudge sundaes and milkshakes on his own. In fact, he trusts Hanbin enough to let him and Yujin run the store on their own for thirty minutes while he takes his break in the sandwich shop next door instead of sitting at a booth, his watchful eyes following their every move. 

That was his first mistake. 

Since Gyuvin and Ricky’s appearance that morning, Hanbin had been fortunate enough not to encounter any other customers he had known from high school. The remaining guests  were all parents with small children, whose faces ended up smeared with chocolate fudge long before their cones were finished, or middle schoolers who taunted Hanbin with their endless requests for free samples before finally deciding to order a small cup of peppermint chip to share between the three of them.

Given the slowness of the hour, Yujin had gone to the back room to sort the latest order of paper products (read: text on his phone without Gunwook around to harass him about paying attention on the job), leaving Hanbin to man the counter alone. Still, by this point in the day he was confident. There was a large supply of waffle cones, courtesy of Yujin and his nimble fingers (and lack of fear at the buzzing waffle maker), his scooper was primed and ready to shape the perfect cup or cone for the next eager customer to walk through the door, and–

“Hey, are you new here?” A voice cuts through Hanbin’s affirmations, stepping up to the counter as Hanbin looks up from the frozen tubs he had been pretending to organize. 

A few words alone should not hold any power. It’s not like the voice belonged to a celebrity or anyone like that. Well, on second thought, perhaps it did belong to the closest thing this town had to a celebrity. 

Local legend might be a more accurate term to describe Hao Zhang. Not the football quarterback, but the captain and star of the swim team, to say the least. Hanbin’s former classmate dabbled in other athletics of the varsity degree: basketball, soccer, cross country, but he’d gotten a full-ride to their state university for swimming. Outside of his athletic achievements, he’d been crowned ‘Homecoming King’ twice in a row, and probably would’ve ruled over the Prom court too if there wasn’t a specific rule against winning both positions. Hanbin wouldn’t have been surprised if the school board had to put that rule in place just because of him. 

Alright, maybe he’s being a little dramatic, but Hao Zhang gave a new meaning to the term “suburban legend.” Not only was he famous among the town population under the age of 25, but Hao Zhang was the number one topic of discussion for the gossip mongering mothers after church. He was the constantly-compared to but incomparable golden child. Unarguably, the best thing to come out of this place.

Most importantly, he was untouchable. Hanbin had never spoken a word to the other man in his life. Which was probably a good thing given the fact that Hanbin didn’t know if he’d be able to say anything to the other at all, as his tendency to get absolutely tongue-tied quadrupled in the face of a pretty boy. 

That was the second, undeniable thing, Hao Zhang was undoubtedly the prettiest boy he’d ever seen. 

“Um… hello?” Hanbin comes back to reality with the flash of a hand being waved in his face. Shit , what was the question again? 

“Would you like that in a cup or a cone…?” Hanbin swings a wild guess and strikes out. By the way Hao’s expression shifts into a kind of half-smile and his head tilts ever so slightly in a way that gives more ‘amused puppy’ than anything, whatever Hanbin had just said was completely wrong. 

His face heats up, and his ears burn pink. God, it’s like his brain is empty! What had Hao said the first time? Maybe he should stick his head in the freezer or knock himself in the head with his scooper just for a shock to the system. Hao couldn’t have shown up more than thirty seconds ago, and Hanbin had already botched it all. 

“You’re Hanbin, right?” Hao greets, “I’m Hao, we went to high school together.”
He tries to keep a dumbfounded expression off his face, steeling his nerves into something cool and collected. A traitorous voice in the back of his head is screaming that Hao hadn’t even leant over to check his name tag, he had just known Hanbin’s name. Though, Hanbin must not have the self-control he believed given the way Hao giggles at Hanbin’s lack of reaction. The single synapse left in his brain is firing one thought over and over again into the abyss. His laugh sounds just like bells. 

“Oh god, do I have it totally wrong?” Hao’s expression drops into a pout, and Hanbin’s heart drops to his feet with it. How does anyone ever say no to this man? He’s so cute it should be illegal. His eyes should be certified as weapons if he’s going to be carrying those around in public every day. Hanbin doesn’t think he would have survived had high school him been faced with this Hao on a daily basis.

“Nonono,” Hanbin scrambles to say, “You’re right. I’m Hanbin, and uh, we did go to school together, of course, because there’s just the one school, as you know. But, um, I didn’t think you would remember me.”

Apparently in the span of 60 seconds Hanbin’s problem has gone from being tongue-tied to being loose-lipped because Hao did not ask for all that. He hides his hands behind his back in a bid to stop them from shaking. Hao’s brow furrows slightly in reaction, and instead of shutting up and taking his losses, Hanbin digs himself even further into a trap of his own creation. 

“I didn’t mean it in a rude way, or anything like that. It’s just, well. You’re so…” 

Backtrack, shit , Hanbin needs to backtrack ASAP. 

“I’m so…?” 

“Well, it’s just, everyone knows you, that’s all.” 

Surprisingly, Hao doesn’t preen under the compliment like Hanbin would expect. He seems almost disappointed at Hanbin’s perception of him, but that can’t be right. Why should Hao care at all what Hanbin thinks of him? This is probably the first and last time the two of them will ever interact (and Hanbin will not cry later when he thinks about the way he ruined any chance with the cutest boy he’d ever met because he couldn’t get his foot out of his mouth for one minute to serve him some ice cream). 

“Well, I do remember you,” Hao says with finality, like the conversation is over, and he has the final word. It really should be, if Gunwook was here he would be on Hanbin’s back about taking so long with a customer. There isn’t anyone else in line though, so this time Hanbin will plead for forgiveness. 

It’s not every day your crush from high school confesses to not only knowing of your existence but remembering you from your days as a major loser poetry nerd (oh god, he hopes Hao doesn’t remember about the poetry thing). 

Maybe crush is a bit of a strong word. For the sake of Hanbin’s mental stability, he would call it more of an admiration than anything. I mean, honestly, everyone has had a crush on Hao at some point. Let’s face it, in about three years Hao will  probably be the most eligible bachelor in this whole town. He had a slew of silent admirers, and Hanbin was just one of them. 

Breaking the brief silence, Hao slides along the counter to peer through the glass at the tubs of ice cream illuminated by the white led lighting. 

“Which one do you recommend?” He asks, as if fully absorbed with visually trying to discern the difference between the raspberry swirl and strawberries and cream flavors. Maybe this is better, because now Hanbin can almost breathe with those ocean-deep eyes distracted from trying to see right into his soul instead.

“Um, this is only my first day…” Hanbin confesses. 

“You haven’t tried any of the flavors yet?” Hao questions, peering upwards through his lashes at Hanbin where he’s leaned over the glass display. Hanbin thinks he might have to ask his mother if they have a family history of heart disease, because with the way Hao’s gaze has locked back onto him, he feels like he might feel a heart attack coming on. 

“The coconut one is pretty good?” Hanbin offers. Honestly, working around ice cream all day had made the thought of tasting any of it quite unappealing. But the one time he had come here the previous summer, he vaguely remembers trying the coconut flavor then and being pretty happy with it. 

“I’ll do one scoop of the coconut then,” Hao decides, not even taking another second to think about it despite how meticulously he’d been examining the flavors before. 

“You don’t want to try it first?” Hanbin asks, surprised, “We offer free samples.”  

“I trust you.” 

And isn’t that a statement? Hanbin won’t dwell on it, Hao’s waiting for his ice cream, and Hanbin would loathe to disappoint. 

Hanbin flips the scooper out of its resting bowl with practiced technique. The first time he’d tried, he’d ended up flicking water all over his apron. This time, there wasn’t even a splash. It was a trick Yujin had been trying to teach him when Gunwook wasn’t watching. Carefully, he rolls out a perfect scoop of coconut ice cream and places it into one of the tiny pink cups marked with the parlor’s cute logo design. 

“You must be pretty strong from scooping ice cream all day,” Hao compliments, eyes glued to Hanbin’s forearm where he’d rolled the sleeves of his white button up shirt up earlier in the day. He’d gotten a swipe of chocolate ice cream on it almost as soon as his shift started, but only now was starting to feel self-conscious that Hao had noticed it. That’s surely what he was staring at, and Hanbin tries not to wither under the weight of his gaze. 

Hanbin can feel the tips of his ears burn under his cap, but fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately?) Hao had yet to lift his eyes to meet his face again, entirely focused on the ice cream. 

“Oh, er… I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you did, um… do… you’re still swimming right?” It’s an obvious deflection, but Hao still looks up with a satisfied smile. 

“You remember,” He says, a proud smirk adorning his otherwise delicate features. The expression makes his eyes sharpen, and his words take on a tone like there’s some kind of hidden meaning in them that Hanbin can’t quite read. 

Suddenly realizing that Hanbin is still holding the other’s coconut ice cream, he quickly slides it across the counter to Hao, who grabs a spoon from the cup on the counter and drags it once across Hanbin’s perfect scoop before sticking it straight into his mouth. Hanbin pretends he’s only watching carefully for Hao’s reaction to the flavor, “Good?” 

“Perfect,” Hao smiles, tongue peeking out to catch the excess that remains on the spoon.

“It’s 2.50 for a single,” Hanbin finally remembers that he is supposed to charge the other for the purchase. 

Hao fishes in his pocket for the bills, “Single for a single,” he jokes. 

This is news to Hanbin, and it shouldn’t shock him as much as it does. He’d known Hao had broken up with his long time girlfriend some point before Valentine’s day. It had been a town-wide scandal, though it had soon been forgotten when two exes had been crowned Prom king and queen and been forced to take the first dance together. Hao had accompanied his ex-girlfriend and her new girlfriend as a trio and had been the first to cheer them on when they kissed on the dance floor, so there didn’t seem to be any bad blood in particular between them. Hanbin had third-wheeled Ricky and Gyuvin all night, so he’d wiped much of the traumatic experience from his memory. 

But even if Hao had graduated single, Hanbin thought he’d have been taken by now. Some new person should have swept him off his feet at university, then taken him on some whirlwind summer tour where they’d fall desperately in love like he deserved before coming back to this town to show off what a prize they’d managed to bag. Certainly, that’s what Hanbin would have wanted to do. 

No , those are bad thoughts. Put those away. Hanbin didn’t stand a chance with someone like Hao, nor did he have the money to fly him to Europe given his current state of employment at minimum wage in a tiny ice cream shop in their hometown, population 2,500 without tourists. 

Because Hanbin is a glutton for punishment, he asks, “No university beau waiting for you at the end of the summer?” 

Hao shakes his head, “Fortunately not,” then he pauses for a second, as if contemplating his next words, “but don’t they say summer is the best time to fall in love?” 

Hanbin busies himself putting Hao’s money into the register, “It might be a bit tough in a town where you’ve already known everyone for years,” he points out. So what if he’s a bit cynical, it’s not like he’s said anything false. Then, he remembers that most people here are more attached to this place than him and take any words against it as a personal attack. He looks up to gauge Hao’s reaction, but the other is only watching him curiously. 

“Who knows, maybe it can be someone that’s right in front of you that you never thought about before,” He’s looking at Hanbin pointedly, but there’s no way Hanbin can be reading this situation correctly. Hao would never try to imply anything about him . They’ve never spoken to each other directly before this. Hao is probably only being cryptic because he’s too polite to outwardly insult Hanbin for his commentary. 

“Hao!” Yujin yells excitedly, bursting out of the back of the room, “What are you doing here? Is that ice cream?” 

“Yujin-ie,” Hao greets the younger boy with a wave, but backs away towards the door, “It’s good to see you again, let’s catch up later okay?” 

Hanbin’s coworker looks a bit confused, but waves at Hao nonetheless. As soon as the little bell above the door chimes to signal Hao’s departure, Yujin rounds on him, brow raised. 

“What was that about?”
“No idea,” Hanbin says, entirely honest, still reeling from the conversation as it repeats over and over again in his head. 

Yujin doesn’t look convinced. 

*

There have to be more interesting things in this town besides the ice cream parlor, but apparently not according to Hao, who seems to be showing up every day at this point. The first week he only came back once, but once Hanbin got over the shock of being in such proximity to Hao’s everything, and they actually managed to carry on an entire conversation without Hanbin saying something stupid, Hao started coming back a lot more. 

He only ever orders the smallest cup of ice cream and chooses a different flavor based on Hanbin’s recommendation every time. Once Hanbin had offered to make him a milkshake or a sundae, on the house as a favor for a friend, but Hao had respectfully declined and stuck to his single scoop. Usually, he savors the cup for nearly half an hour, making small talk or teasing Hanbin about his uniform. Surprisingly, he never brings up their time in high school, but often talks about his swim teammates in university and their antics after matches. Hanbin finds he could probably talk to the other for hours, but somehow he always seems to escape once one of Hanbin’s co workers return from their break. He worries that Hao thinks he’s a distraction to Hanbin’s work, which he could never be (he totally is), but he only ever comes in at times when hardly anyone wants to buy ice cream anyway! There’s nothing more that he wants than to take this friendship (it’s a friendship, if Hanbin even lets himself think about anything more than that he actually spirals and shows up late to work with his shirt on backwards from losing track of time) outside the ice cream parlor. 

But what if Hao doesn’t want that? What if Hao just really likes ice cream and only keeps Hanbin around for the free toppings? What if on Hao’s side Hanbin’s friendship is nice, but only in a certain context. Take that context away and Hanbin is just another small town loser trying to bask in the rays of Hao’s shining light. 

He tries to convey this to his best friend from university over the phone one evening, only to be laughed at to the point where he genuinely considered hanging up and biking out to the lake and throwing himself off the dock to punish himself for all his terrible life choices. 

“You can’t be serious,” Matthew practically howls over the crackly facetime connection. They’re both from tiny towns though on opposite sides of the state border, but Hanbin can brave the poor cell connection in exchange for what he thought would be a reality check on what has quickly devolved from a peaceful summer to insanity. 

“You’re not supposed to be feeding my delusions,” Hanbin whines, hoping his desperation might make Matthew understand the gravity of the situation. The problem is, Hanbin is drowning in delusions, and Matthew’s the only one who can pull him out. 

“He literally comes to talk to you every single day without fail,” Matthew argues, “He’s got to be flirting with you!” 

“Absolutely not,” Hanbin disagrees, desperately, “Strike out all thoughts of that, Matthew. Friends aren’t supposed to lie to each other.”

“I’m literally not lying! What have I said that’s a lie!” Matthew’s voice raises in frustration, “I’m telling you, he doesn’t want to be your friend.” 

Traitorously, Hanbin’s heart flinches even though he knows Matthew doesn’t mean it in that way, “What if he’s just being nice?” 

“There’s being nice, and then there’s whatever your man is doing,” Matthew refuses to budge. 

“What if he just really likes ice cream?” Hanbin counters, though it sounds like a weak argument even to his ears. Hao has basically tried every single flavor the parlor offers at this point, but apparently nothing has been good enough to order twice. 

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Matthew sighs, “Would it be so bad if he liked you?” 

“I just…” the words are there, but saying them out loud would make it impossible to deny anymore, “I just like him, a lot. And I don’t want to lose him even if he only wants to be my friend.” 

“God, fine… whatever. Lose your shot at love for all I care,” Matthew complains bitterly, “All I’m saying is that you’ve got a summer love right in front of you, and it’s going to take a sign from the universe for you to realize that.”

*

Apparently, the universe has a name, and it’s Taerae Kim. Gyuvin’s second oldest brother, Taerae was known for being the artistically-inclined brother between the two back-to-back long-legged basketball champion brothers. More than once bringing an audience to tears with the beauty of his voice alone (though surely, the dimples helped as well), Taerae had surprised everyone with his choice to give up music in favor of studying medicine in university. Hanbin, who had the inside scoop from all of Gyuvin’s update texts, knew that Taerae was giving up on music really, just making sure he had a back up plan in case his grand plans to pursue his dream didn’t work out. 

Taerae Kim was also the best friend of Hao Zhang and had been since the pair were in middle school. At first, Hanbin had wondered why Hao didn’t choose to hang out with the other jocks on his various esteemed sports teams, but after learning more about the other, he realized why. There was definitely more to Hao than just being one of the most popular guys at school. Or maybe, that was just his massive crush talking. 

Hanbin had never seen Hao come to the ice cream shop with anyone else before, and he had come to cherish their twenty minutes alone together each day. At first, like the hopeless person he was, he tried to brainstorm questions to ask or topics to discuss before Hao would arrive, anything to keep the captivating man in his presence just a little longer before he would leave and inevitably take his light with him. Dramatic, he knows, but Hanbin was a bit of a poet after all. Somehow, he’d found that Hao always preferred the days when Hanbin went in with no plan, preferring when chatted about whatever until the pair ran out of things to say, or the other had to go. Fortunately, it was more often the latter than the former.  

This morning, Hao comes into the shop alone as usual. He greets Hanbin with a wide smile and a half-wave as he waits behind a small family for whom Hanbin has been scooping perfect scoops of chocolate cookie dough much to the delight of their wide-eyed toddling son. 

The child teeters away with his mountain of ice cream, and Hanbin hopes he at least makes it outside before he drops it, less Hanbin have to deal with another spilled mess on the floor he’d just mopped. 

Just as Hanbin opens his mouth to ask Hao what flavor he’d like to try today, the bell above the door clatters noisily as someone bursts inside.
“Hao Zhang!” Taerae cheers, bounding up to the display case to stand next to him, “When Ricky told me I could find you at the ice cream shop, I thought he was kidding.” 

Assuming Hao’s friend is only being dramatic, Hanbin asks, “Why’s that?“

Now it’s Taerae’s turn to look confused, “Well,” He says, trailing off the end of his sentence by looking Hanbin up and down appraisingly. Hanbin might be a bit dense, but he’s not stupid. It’s flattering that Taerae would think of him that way, but Hanbin has already made a five-year plan for his life with Hao, and a new lover doesn’t really fit into that. 

“Maybe our new flavors finally won him over,” Hanbin offers, trying to appease Hao who is starting to look a bit uncomfortable with all the scrutiny over his appearance in the shop. Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to be the answer he was looking for, Hanbin’s response only heightening the tension in his shoulders. Hao looks at Taerae searchingly, clearly trying to use some form of mental communication to tell him something that Hanbin has not been keyed into. 

Taerae turns away from his silently-pleading friend in a universal symbol of, ‘I pretend I do not hear’ to smirk at Hanbin, “Don’t think that’s it either. Hao’s lactose intolerant after all.” 

“What?” Hanbin’s eyes widen. The tubs of ice cream in the display case suddenly seem like an ocean between them. There’s no way Hanbin understood that correctly. 

“You’re kidding,” He looks at Taerae, the tables turned as now he seems to be the one pleading for an answer. Taerae doesn’t reply, so he looks to Hao himself, “He’s kidding right?” 

“Oh no, you didn’t know,” Taerae tries to feign a shock in his voice, but it’s obvious he’d been scheming if the satisfied expression on his face is any indicator. 

“Taerae,” Hao hisses, “Scram.” 

“What if I wanted some ice cream?” Taerae drifts along the display case, peering through the LEDs into the welcoming colorful tubs. 

“You can come back later,” Hao suggests, but it’s less of a suggestion and more of an order. 

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Taerae relents. 

“Don’t wait,” Hao replies shortly, but his eyes still haven’t left Hanbin’s. 

“Uh, okay. Thank me later, I guess,” Taerae rolls his eyes, but it’s clearly in jest. If Hanbin could summon more than one brain cell to analyze the situation, he wouldn’t still be stuck on the fact that he has practically been feeding Hao poison for the past month that probably makes him violently ill. 

Fortunately, the rest of the parlor is empty, Hanbin finally trusted to open on his own without the watchful supervision of Gunwook or slightly less watchful but equally as authoritative Yujin, so Hanbin doesn’t feel bad to slip around the counter to come right up to Hao. Nonsensically, he looks Hao up and down like he’ll be able to see the physical evidence of his wrongdoings. 

“Are you alright?” Hanbin frowns, “Why do you keep coming here if it makes you sick?” 

Hao crosses his arms petulantly, “I’m fine. You think a little ice cream is going to take me down?” 

Hanbin mirrors him, but counters his nonchalance with genuine worry, “A little sort of adds up to a lot when it’s been an entire month.” 

Finally, the other sighs, “Has it ever occurred to you that it’s not the ice cream I come here for?” 

“Er…” Hanbin’s thoughts have really only gone to one place, but if denial was a knife, Hanbin would stab himself with it before believing it to be dull enough not to leave a mark. 

“Are you really going to make me say it out loud?” Hao presses closer to him, a kind of spark burning in his eyes that is both mesmerizing and terrifying at the same time. “I never have to be the first one to say it,” he whispers to himself. 

Maybe denial is not a knife, but a cliff. Hanbin decides at this point he’s so close to the edge he might as well throw himself off and hope he floats. If he makes it to the bottom, it all will have been worth it, right? 

“Tell me I’m not reading this wrong,” He reaches forward to pull Hao’s hands into his own. 

“Thank god,” Hao takes Hanbin’s initiative as an opportunity to pull the other flush against him, winding his arms around Hanbin’s waist instead of keeping their hands conjoined, “I thought you were never going to get it,” All the tension in his body seems to fade when Hanbin is finally in his grasp, “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?” 

Hanbin had probably gone cross eyed with his efforts to keep his eyes from straying below Hao’s own, but they slip down anyways, catching on Hao’s lips for a single second before they flick back up, guilty. 

Then, without waiting a second longer, Hao surges forward to connect their lips, hot against him in a way that contrasts the chill of the air-conditioned ice cream parlor, making it easy to reciprocate instantly, until their fronts are almost entirely pressed together. It’s only natural that Hanbin lets his empty hands rise to gently cup at Hao’s cheek, licking at the seam of his lips to press further into the warmth of him. Hao lets him, welcomes him is probably closer to the right word, squeezing at Hanbin’s hip as if to pull him closer, despite the utter lack of space between them already. His hand slips down further, dipping into the back of Hanbin’s jeans’ back pocket like they’re two protagonists in a teen movie instead of two university students making out in the middle of the ice cream parlor lobby. 

Shit they’re still in the lobby. Hanbin regretfully pulls away, Hao coming forward to minimize the distance anyways. 

“You taste like ice cream,” Hao laughs, “Cherry ripple, to be exact.” 

Hanbin’s eyes go wide, “Are you going to be okay? Should I get you something? Isn’t there a kind of medicine you can…”
Gently pushing against his chest to get him to shut up, Hao leans against him smirking, “Just a taste isn’t going to kill me.” 

But Hanbin is already on a roll, words coming out faster than his brain can process Hao’s words, otherwise he knows he would have gotten stuck on the implications behind Hao’s comment, “Sorbet. We have sorbet,” He repeats. 

“What?” Hao leans back, the moment he’d been trying to preserve was disrupted by Hanbin’s rambling. 

“We have sorbet. It’s dairy free,” He points to the far end of the display, “Strawberry, mango, and grapefruit flavor.” 

Eyes widening in shock, Hao questions, “and you’ve had that the whole time?” 

Hanbin nods. He’s sure that from an outside perspective, the equal expressions of surprise and amusement would make them look like twins. 

“So you’re telling me I came here and made myself ill for weeks when you’ve had dairy free sorbet the whole time?” 

“You told me you didn’t get sick!” Hanbin accuses. 

“Well it was my choice, and you were the one who never recommended it to me!” Hao crosses his arms, “You’re not mad, right?” 

“Why would I be mad?” Hanbin crosses the distance between them, pulling Hao’s arms apart so he can fit between them again. Now that he knows what it’s like to have this, it’s like something green-eyed and greedy has been unlocked, and he can’t go a minute without the feeling that Hao is only looking at him, only touching him. “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” He continued. 

Hao’s eyes lock back onto Hanbin’s lips, expression turning coy, almost cat-like in his satisfaction, “You know, just because I can’t eat ice cream doesn’t mean that I don’t like the taste of it.” 

“Oh, really?” Hanbin asks, though he can already feel the way Hao has gotten a fist into the front of his button-down uniform shirt. As much as it pains him to break the moment, he pulls back as he whispers, “Not here.” 

*

Hao has Hanbin slammed back to the freezer door as soon as the back room door slams shut behind them. In a reversal of his allowance of some semblance of control to Hanbin during their first kiss, he seems to have thrown caution to the wind now that they’re in a secluded location. Hao tugs almost violently at Hanbin’s collar, their noses bumping awkwardly before their lips seal together.  They’re about the same height, meaning he has to tilt his head slightly to licks into Hanbin’s mouth like he really can taste the ice cream on his tongue, and if this is all Hanbin will ever get to have, he thinks he’ll be able to die happy. 

The pair are so caught up in each other, they completely miss the sound of the bell ringing above the door to inform them of a new guest in the shop. Should it have been a customer, Hanbin would only have to apologize profusely for his distraction. For this person, he may have to beg on his knees for forgiveness. 

“What the hell are you doing back there Hanbin?” Gunwook hisses, “Get out here, now!” 

Maybe Hanbin should just melt into a puddle like a child’s fallen ice cream cone. He doesn’t think he can face his younger pseudo-boss now with what is certainly a hickey forming at the junction of his collar and neck, let alone with Hao in the back room where a customer has absolutely no right to be. Hao seems to find Hanbin’s utter state of panic hilarious, pinching at the swell of his cheeks as though that isn’t going to make his blush fade any faster. 

“I’ll handle it,” Hao straightens Hanbin’s collar before prancing through the door. Hanbin can only chase after him in shock, brain coming back online at the consequences of his actions finally being realized. 

“Gunwookie,” Hao greets, somehow looking almost put together if not for the slightly disheveled state of his hair, “How have you been?” 

Gunwook looks between them in surprise, his million-dollar scholarship brain obviously running the calculations to land at the only possible explanation, and when he hits it, his eyes narrow in stupefaction. Hanbin tries not to cower behind the protective figure of Hao. 

Before he can open his mouth to speak, Hao interjects again, “Just remember that I used to babysit you when you were little, and I know a lot of things about those days  I’m sure your mother would love to hear about the next time I see her.” 

“Are you… blackmailing me?” Gunwook asks incredulously at Hao’s nerve.  

Hao shrugs, “I suppose so.” 

For once stunned into silence, Gunwook just looks between them like they’re a particularly difficult equation that doesn’t make sense unless you flip it around and realize you were looking at it the wrong way the whole time. 

“Okay. Congratulations, I guess,” he tacks on at the end like he’s ready to put this conversation in the past (or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on Hanbin’s part). Gunwook claps his hands together, and Hanbin tries not to visibly flinch at the sudden noise. He fails if the hand squeezing his shoulder is to be believed. 

“I’m happy for you, but in the future, please do not do that on company time, or in shared company spaces,” He finishes, “I’m going to clock in now, and also bleach my eyes.” 

With the final word, Gunwook disappears through the door, leaving Hanbin and Hao in the front alone again. 

“I should probably go,” Hao says, but he drags it out like he’s waiting for something. Hanbin will actually jump off a bridge if he doesn’t do something now that he knows how Hao tastes. It was one thing to imagine, it’s another to actually shoot his shot. 

“I’m glad you um, love the shop, but, would you ever like, want to hang out outside… of the shop?” He cringes and hopes he hasn’t just lost all the aura he’d gained by making out with his crush in the back room for the last thirty minutes of his shift. 

“Like as a date?” Hao asks. 

Hanbin nods, “Yes. A date. Great idea. We could watch the fireworks together by the lake this weekend?” 

“Are you asking me to skip the founder’s festival, the event of the year to go out with you?” 

Awkwardly, Hanbin doesn’t answer, just fidgets with his apron awkwardly as he tries to figure out how he can regain any of the flirting abilities he’d had thirty minutes ago. 

Hao rolls his eyes and fixes the apron for him, “I would love to.” 

Lighting up, Hanbin asks, “Do you want to drive or should I?” 

Laughing, Hao points to the bike locked up across the street, “I don’t drive, silly.” 

*

Hanbin’s mother didn’t say a word when he asked her if he could borrow the hand vacuum to clean the layers of dust out of his car, but maybe that was for the best. While Hanbin had never really integrated with the majority of residents of the town, his mother had no problem joining the local bridge club and befriending the other mothers and aunties that lived on their block. The last thing he wanted was for news of his ‘date’ to spread around the town, especially when he was sure that his mother knew exactly who Hao was. It’s not that Hanbin was embarrassed to be going out with Hao, quite the opposite actually. He would happily shout it from the rooftops that the hottest guy in the entire radius of their town and probably the surrounding county had given him a chance. But he wasn’t sure how Hao would feel about everyone knowing, especially when Hanbin was just, well, himself– a slightly reclusive loser who was better known among the elementary schoolers as the ‘ice cream man’ than by anyone his own age. 

He swung by Hao’s house a quarter to eight, just as the sun was finally starting to set, tinging the sky above the perfect cookie-cutter shaped houses a dark orange. For sixty seconds he tries to work up the courage to go up to the door, but it seems that Hao had beaten him to it. Was he watching for him from the window? No, don’t think too hard about that, he can already feel his heart rate start to pick up from the thought alone. 

“Nice ride,” Hao teases, sliding into the front seat and peeking around to the back. Hanbin is endlessly grateful he’d decided to vacuum, who knows what kind of nastiness Matthew and his other friends from uni left back there. He didn’t know he was going to be subjected to an inspection, but hopefully he would pass. 

“She’s my pride and joy,” Hanbin pats the dashboard affectionately, “Came all the way across the country when we moved here.”  

“Well I’ll have to thank her then,” Hao turns to him, a smile already forming on his lips before he finishes what he’s going to say, “for bringing you to me.” 

Hanbin flushes scarlet, the tips of his ears burning red. Okay, so maybe both of them have a problem with giving the most cheesy lines possible. But why should it matter if it’s not deterring either of them? If anything, the dorky side of Hao’s personality makes Hanbin like him even more. 

Starting the car, Hanbin drives them in the direction of the lake, which is situated just at the edge of town. Parking on one side of it gives the perfect view of the fireworks that will be launched as the finale of their town’s annual summer festival. Really, it was just an excuse for everyone to come out of their air-conditioned houses to main square and come together in a celebration of the town's founding. The city council rents a massive ferris wheel, which probably makes their tiny town go from invisible to actually visible from space (Hanbin is being dramatic, but he has no idea how they manage to get that thing through their tiny streets for one single day of use). The various town organizations run a barbeque potluck, and the festivities conclude with the launch of fireworks over the lake. Truly the pinnacle of small town America, and the event of the year for anyone calling this place their home. 

“Did you just reverse park with one hand?” Hao asks suddenly, breaking the silence. 

“Um, yes?” Hanbin answers. 

“Hm,” Hao makes a thoughtful noise, but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Did you go to the festival this afternoon?” Hanbin asks curiously. Back in high school, Hao had been the life of the event, always involved in some booth or another, raising money for charity or fooling around with his friends. 

He shakes his head, “Can I be honest with you? I’m kind of avoiding it this year.” 

What kind of small-town legend skips the event that would have the whole town fawning over him, aunties filling his plate with the best foods from the potluck, and everyone fighting for a chance just to ask how he’s been for the whole year he’s been away? 

“And deprive all your admirers of your handsome face?” Hanbin teases. 

“They wanted me in the kissing booth this year,” Hao looks practically terrified by the prospect, but he schools his expression back to his usual picture of coolness after a moment, a brief crack in the mask he always seemed to wear. 

“There’s a kissing booth?” Hanbin’s brows furrow, “I don’t remember that from last year.” 

“Yeah, me neither,” Hao crosses his arms, “I don’t think they ended up having one this year either.” 

Hanbin decides not to think too hard about that statement, lest the jealousy simmering in his stomach crawl up his throat to say (or do something) he’d later regret. 

Instead, he tries his best to continue the conversation as normal, “That’s a bummer then.” 

“Why?” Hao turns to him. Hanbin wishes he could have the luxury of a red light so he could look back. He would never decline an opportunity to admire Hao if given the chance, but the busy streets seem determined to deprive him of that. 

“Would you have come to visit?” Hao asks, and Hanbin knows his cheeks are burning again. He grips onto the steering wheel tightly to prevent himself from doing something stupid like crashing the car just to get a glimpse of Hao’s pouting face. He releases his white-knuckle grip on the wheel, letting one hand fall to the gear shift in an attempt to relax. 

Hanbin replies, “If you would’ve been able to make some time for little old me.” 

“Maybe we can have private recreation later, hm?” Hao suggests cheekily, and Hanbin thinks he should get used to never getting the last word when it comes to Hao, though he can’t say he minds. 

What he should get, is a gold star for managing to pull them safely into the dirt parking lot at the lake without further incident, especially when Hao asks to put on some music and surprises him with an impromptu concert of his favorite songs. He wishes he could keep the other all to himself, to know every part of him, not just the ones he shows the public. 

When the car is safely turned off, the pair fall into silence, music cutting off with the engine. Without prompting, Hao reaches for Hanbin’s empty hand, pulling it down to rest on the inside of his thigh, leaving one of his own hands on top of Hanbin’s to keep it there. 

“I thought you wanted to watch the fireworks,” Hanbin says dumbly. He’s kicking himself internally as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Hao freezes, expression tightening like Hanbin has really gone and mucked things up now. He starts to push Hanbin’s hand away, the other hand reaching for the car door handle, and Hanbin scrambles to stop him. 

“Hey, wait, I didn’t. I’m just,” He struggles to find the words to say that won’t end with him totally embarrassing himself. There aren’t any, so he’ll just have to bite the bullet and admit it, “I just still can’t believe you’re here with me right now.” 

Hao’s hand snakes away from the door, his body angling back towards Hanbin. “I know this is probably too much to say, and if you hate me forever after this I’ll drive you home, and we never have to talk about it again, but I really like you, Hao.” 

The other’s free hand reaches up to cup at the side of Hanbin’s face, forcing him to look him in the eyes, “That’s good, because I really like you too.” 

“Yeah?” Hanbin has to confirm one more time, because all of this still feels far too much like a dream to be reality. 

“Yeah. Why do you think I’m sitting in this car with you instead of with all my other friends at the festival?” Hao replies, but all Hanbin can focus on is the smoothness of his thumb as he pets at Hanbin’s cheek. 

Hanbin presses forward to connect their lips, leaning uncomfortably over the center console so Hao won’t have to. The gear stick presses uncomfortably into his stomach, but he can barely feel it, not with the warmth pooling there at the way Hao kisses him back with equal intensity. 

He feels like he’s back in high school again, making out with his lover as the sun sets over the lake without a care in the world for who could catch them. Well, Hanbin hadn’t exactly experienced that when he’d been in school, but this is something like how he’d imagined it, though never in his wildest dreams would he believe Hao Zhang would be the one his lips were attached to. 

Hao leans down to mouth at the side of Hanbin’s neck, close to the shell of his ear. 

“Wait, Hao. The fireworks,” Hanbin tries to say despite Hao’s attempts to keep him utterly distracted. 

“Why do you keep yapping about the fireworks, Hanbin, please,” Hao complains, trying to reattach their lips even as Hanbin tries to put enough distance between them so that his mind gets is clear enough to speak. 

“No, I mean. I put some blankets in the back so we could watch the fireworks. That’s why I picked this spot,” Hanbin admits, the flush on his face not only from the heat between them but in the embarrassment of having to reveal that he’d had a plan from the beginning. He wasn’t necessarily thinking he would succeed at said plan, but he also wanted their date to be perfect. 

“Oh,” Hao pulls back too, eyes dilated and empty of their usual calculation, “Good idea.” 

“Yeah?” Hanbin nods, it seems that Hao isn’t the only one who seems to have been thoroughly kissed out of all functioning thoughts in his head. 

Impatient, Hao nods and straightens Hanbin’s collar where he’d pulled it down to get his mouth on the other’s clavicle, “Let’s go to the back.” 

*

The fireworks don’t start going off until ten, sending showers of red and blue sparks high into the sky just to fall back down to the earth. The pair lay cuddled in the back of the car, where Hanbin had pushed the back seats forward to reveal the blankets he’d laid out in advance. He’d popped the door trunk open to give them the perfect view of the show when they’d heard the first sounds of the fireworks being launched. 

“When I kissed you the first time, was it like that?” Hao points to a particularly large burst of fireworks, all red and gold. 

After a few hours in the other’s presence, Hanbin thinks he’s starting to get used to the other’s game. It’s a game for two after all, and Hanbin is happy to play, “Just like that.” 

Hao preens, nuzzling into the side of Hanbin’s neck happily, “Good.” 

Like this, in peaceful serenity, the only noise being the quiet hum of children playing closer to the shore and popping of each firework being launched, Hanbin feels confident enough to ask. 

“How did you remember me? On that first day, when you came into the shop,” He clarifies, “I don’t think we ever talked before.” 

“We hadn’t… talked before,” Hao agrees, “But I knew you because of something else.” 

Hanbin had been even more of a recluse in high school than he was now, and he was sure they hadn’t shared any classes together, “From what?” 

Reaching over the backseat, Hao grabs his phone from where it had fallen somewhere between the seats during their earlier activities. He pulls the back of the case off, and a flurry of small pink papers drop out like cherry blossom petals. 

With a start, Hanbin realizes he recognizes them, picking one up from their laps. It’s one of the poems he’d written for the Valentine’s day charity event. He scoops up the rest of them to find they’re all the same. He can’t remember exactly who had paid for each one of these, but he could recognize his own handwriting. His heartbeat stutters as he remembers just how many of these he’d written for Hao. Some of the buyers had requested the receiver be anonymous, but plenty of others had outright requested Hanbin address their love notes to Hao. He hopes Hao doesn’t feel the way his heart rate picks up with each note he scans.  

“You kept these?”

“I kept all of them,” Hao admits, “You’re a really great writer, did you know that?” 

“They’re not from me though,” Hanbin starts to say, shaking his head in confusion. 

“I know, but I sometimes imagined they were.”

Hao tilts his head up to meet Hanbin’s gaze,  “Did you like me as much then as you do now?”

He pulls Hao to him tighter, like answering the question might spur the other to try and escape him, and he refuses to let him go, “Of course I did.” 

“I had to ask so many people who was the boy who wrote all these poems,” Hao whispered, “and they told me it was you, but you were so shy. Maybe it’s narcissistic to say, but there’s a lot of people in this town who think they love me. Except, when I read this, it felt like you were the first one to see me,” Hao whispers, like for some reason he too is afraid of losing Hanbin if the other knows just how long he’s waited for him. 

“You never said anything,” Hanbin’s expression furrows. 

“Would you believe that I was shy too?” 

Hanbin jostles them a bit so he can cuddle Hao further into his chest, hand splayed at the curve of his waist. Hanbin in high school wouldn’t have believed it, but knowing Hao today means he understands perfectly. Like this, they feel like two puzzle pieces, waiting for the right time to come together. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to Hao’s temple. 

They make it official under the glow of the fireworks. A love that was born in spring years ago, finally sealed with a promise in the heat of summer. 

*

To Hanbin’s surprise, Hao keeps hanging around the ice cream shop. Hanbin always scoops him a generous serving of sorbet, on the house despite Yujin’s copious ribbing that each scoop comes out of his paycheck. Hao will loiter around in the lobby, even if Hanbin is busy serving little children their ice cream sundaes all morning, just for them to spend Hanbin’s brief ten minute break hiding in the back behind the store. After getting caught the first time, Hanbin refused to let Hao in the back room anymore, no matter how much his boyfriend pouted about it. Instead, they would hang out behind the building, out of sight from any bystanders who might air their relationship at the next town gathering. 

Not that they were really keeping things a secret, Hao had introduced Hanbin to all his friends the day after the festival. Hanbin had at least known of all of them, and there’s a small part of him that can’t believe the group that makes him feel the most accepted in this town are the former popular kids who Hanbin believed to be entirely untouchable just a month ago. 

Sometimes, Hao will request a flavor of ice cream for Hanbin to try, just so he can kiss the flavor off of his lips afterwards. Was it practical, not particularly, but it made Hao smile every time, and Hanbin wasn't about to lose an opportunity to kiss his boyfriend (his boyfriend!!) in the shade outside of the shop.

In just a couple weeks, they’ve become almost attached at the hip. When Hanbin isn’t working, he’s with Hao. If someone needs Hao for something, the first place they check is the ice cream shop. Hanbin himself has never been happier, wishing he could keep these long days of domestic bliss forever. 

Even Matthew had noticed Hanbin’s abrupt change in attitude, accusing him of ditching their weekly catch-ups more than once to hang out with his boyfriend. 

Hao had crashed their facetime call once, informing Matthew that if he was so bitter about being single, Hao had plenty of friends he could introduce him to. Matthew had spluttered at the insinuation and announced that he wanted nothing to do with whatever small-town everyone-is-related kind of dating pool Hao had access to. Hao had only shrugged and told Matthew to let him know if he ever changed his mind. Personally, Hanbin thought Matthew would fold as soon as he convinced his friend to visit the town. He had a feeling a certain bright-eyed, sharp-tongued musician might be just his best friend’s type. 

The only problem with a love born in summer is that it’s accompanied with an expiration date, one that Hanbin had done his best to ignore, but it only seems to weigh heavier on him the closer and closer summer comes to an end. At first, Hanbin had wanted to believe that if they just didn’t talk about it, everything would be fine, that if he hoped and dreamed and prayed hard enough this summer would just last forever. 

They would spend their mornings down at the ice cream shop and their evenings splashing around in the lake, tangled together under the light of the stars, talking about a future where there was never a question that they’d both be in it together. 

It’s only when Matthew texts him to ask what day he’s moving in that the reality finally sinks in for Hanbin. There’s only two weeks left until the best summer of his life is over. The realization weighs on him even when he sees Hao later in the afternoon. They’re driving through the streets in the middle of the night, because what else is there to do for fun around here, and Hao has his favorite pop songs blasting with the windows down. Hanbin doesn’t want to lose this, and he knows exactly why, it just feels a bit too soon to admit it out loud (even though he can admit it just fine in his head).

They pull up to the lake, where they somehow always end up on nights like these, when all their aimless wandering brings them back to the place where it all began. Hanbin had gotten progressively more silent the closer they got to the lake, letting Hao continue the conversation and interjecting only when he needed to convince his boyfriend he was still engaged. The truth was, once reality had set in for him, he couldn’t help but spiral down the rabbit hole trying to figure out what Hao thought of all of this. There’s no way Hao had been a fellow member of team 'denial until the last minute' like Hanbin had been for the last month. Hao was always the kind of person that preferred direct communication. 

Would that apply to breakups too? Hanbin doesn’t think he would survive if Hao broke up with him, he'd probably never be able to come back home again. This whole town that had once felt foreign to him was now repainted with memories with Hao. The thought of driving down these streets without Hao by his side didn’t feel possible anymore. 

“You look like you’re thinking about something really hard,” Hao observes, “Is everything okay, Bin-ah?” 

Hanbin realizes that he’d parked the car by the lake but hadn’t cut the engine off yet. Pop music was still streaming through the speakers even as they’d sat in an awkward silence. 

“Everything’s fine,” Hanbin shakes his head, trying to shake himself out of his slump before Hao really notices something was wrong. Unfortunately, it was too late for that, and Hanbin knows once Hao has his hooks into something, he’s never going to let it go. He’s clingy in the best way possible, until Hanbin is trying to convince him that there’s nothing wrong with him. 

“I don’t believe you,” Hao’s eyes narrow, “Are you lying to me?” 

Hanbin reaches over to squeeze at Hao’s hands with both of his, “No, of course not.” 

“Your nose twitches when you’re lying,” Hao tells him. 

“What? How did you…” Hanbin freezes. 

“I notice everything about you, silly,” Hao tilts his head, so puppy-like Hanbin could cry in adoration. And somehow, that’s his turning point, the point at which the water crosses the top of the dam and the whole thing comes spilling out. 

“I’m in love with you,” Hanbin blurts out, “Please don’t break up with me when the summer is over.” 

Hao’s expression goes complicated for a second, and Hanbin worries he’s said the wrong thing. Is this the point where Hao tells him he never had a choice? That things were always going to end with the summer, and that their relationship never had a chance to make it to the fall? 

“Okay, there’s a lot to unpack there,” Hao leans back, but then watching Hanbin’s expression fall, he presses forward again, “I love you too, first of all.” 

He squeezes at Hanbin’s hands tightly, just to make sure that Hanbin feels his sincerity both verbally and physically, “And I wasn’t planning on breaking up with you at the end of the summer, unless you were…?”

“NO!” Hanbin shouts, “No, no way. Absolutely not. You’re it for me, I love you.” 

Hao’s expression finally curves back into a smile, the soft one he reserves only for Hanbin, “Okay, that’s good. I’m glad we got that settled then.” 

But because Hanbin can’t ever seem to stop talking when it’s good for him, he blurts again, “You’re not worried about the distance?” 

Hao shakes his head, “Four hours is nothing, and you’re still going to come home sometimes too, right?” 

“Of course I’m going to come home,” Hanbin replies, “I’ll come to wherever you are, even if you decide to transfer to some other school across the country.” 

“Good, because that would have made this really embarrassing otherwise,” Hao says, before he reaches for something in his back pocket. He places a crisp piece of plastic upside down in Hanbin’s hand. Hanbin flips it over, it’s a driver’s license in Hao’s name. 

“When did you get this?” Hanbin asks in shock. As long as he’d known Hao (three  months, though it felt like much longer), the other had never expressed interest in learning to drive. He was perfectly content to sit in Hanbin’s passenger seat with full control over the aux while bossing him around as he directed them wherever he wanted to go. 

“Yesterday, I wanted to surprise you,” Hao smiles brightly, “Mom said I could get a car this year if I learned to drive, so now it’s not always you who has to come to me.” 

Hanbin presses kisses all over Hao’s face, anywhere he can reach, his cheeks, his nose, the outside shell of his ear, “I’m so proud of you, love.” 

“Oh,” Hao whispers, a flush rising on his cheeks, and for once their roles are reversed, “Say that again.” 

“What?” Hanbin feigns confusion, and Hao punches him gently on the shoulder, “Say what again, love?” 

Hao shuts him up in just the way Hanbin had hoped, leaning across the console to kiss the words right off of his lips. Finally, when Hao pulls away, satisfied, with his lips swollen and hair tousled, Hanbin can barely stop himself from pushing the seat back and climbing right over to him. 

“You’ll let me drive your car until I get mine, right baby?” Hao asks. 

The comfortable daze Hanbin had settled in shatters, “Um, well…” 

“Please? I’m a good driver, I swear! I passed the test,” He pouts in the exact way he knows Hanbin can never deny. Hanbin never denies him, but he’s known to fold even faster under the weight of Hao’s wide eyes and protruding lower lip. 

“I know it’s just,” Hanbin scrambles to come up with a valid reason not to let his boyfriend into the driver’s seat of his precious Subaru that isn’t just pure fear. 

“I thought you loved me?” Hao goes right in for the kill, and Hanbin feels his resolve shatter underneath him like a house of playing cards. 

“You can’t start using that against me right away,” Hanbin begs. 

“Please?” 

“Fine. Do you want to drive us home?” 

“No way! I’m just kidding. Until I get my car, I am going to be sitting right here,” He shimmies a bit in the seat as if to prove his point. 

Hanbin thinks it should be impossible to be this endeared by one person, but Hao proves him wrong every time. 

“Alright princess, just tell me where you want to go,” Hanbin starts the engine and puts the car into driving, reaching over to place his hand on Hao’s thigh. 

“I think I want some ice cream.”