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Sungho isn’t very good at life.
His hands are taking notes for his Psych 101 class, but his brain is barely paying attention. He knew it’d take a while for him to adjust to the newness of all this—small town to big city, high school to university, too much of himself to not that much of anyone at all—but he hadn’t anticipated the brain fog to be this bad. The professor is trying to teach them about ways to get better at learning, and the irony isn’t lost on Sungho that he’s failing to take any of that advice.
They’re only a little over a month into their first semester of university in Seoul, but admittedly, it’s been a rough few weeks. Sungho’s mostly taking a bunch of foundational GE classes and only two for his actual major, but all of it’s definitely nothing like high school, and Sungho doesn’t know how he’s going to keep this up. It’s funny, really; he’d built all of this up so much in his head, being in his dream university in a bigger city without his parents constantly scrutinizing his every move, but now that he’s here, it all… starts to fall flat. Or, who knows—perhaps it’s Sungho who fails to live up to his own, romanticized fantasy of it all. It’s always been hard for him to know which of his successes were his own or just pure luck. After all, everyone pretty much thinks he’s had it pretty easy up to this point.
It’s all just a little… overwhelming, he supposes. The fact that Jaehyun is here with him is the only thing that keeps Sungho anchored firmly to the ground where they both stand, and Sungho would be much worse off if he didn’t have their cramped little dorm room to come back to at the end of every grueling day. The thing is, Jaehyun’s been pretty busy, too—he does all his coursework along with whatever he does at the music club he’d joined straight away when the semester started, and Sungho is happy for him—but he just can’t help wondering why he isn’t pursuing all of that for himself. Sungho had a plan and everything: he’d take all the prerequisite courses for the electives he wants to take in the future, just to get them out of the way, and he’d join some kind of arts-focused club as an extracurricular since he only got to do so for one year in high school. Sungho would make friends there, and with the other freshmen in his major as well, and he and Jaehyun would go on weekend dates and explore this new city inch by inch when they had the time, and they’d be living their best lives and learning to grow up bit by bit and day by day. They’d miss their hometown friend group, but video calls would still exist. And, to add the cherry on top of all that, Sungho wouldn’t have to endure so many stifling conversations with his parents. Just a phone call here and there, and that’s it. As long as his grades weren’t slipping, that would be easy enough to get out of the way.
Now that he’s here, though, reality certainly isn’t the picture-perfect vision that Sungho had in his head. He’s still too scared of getting any grade under a 91 and all of his choices still stubbornly reflect that. Making friends is harder than he thought, not because he isn’t still outgoing and friendly and approachable enough to the people he meets, but because he doesn’t even know what side of himself to show to anyone that talks to him, which side of him is really even him. All their friends back home always said that Sungho’s personality was more well-suited to the big city anyway, but the sentiment isn’t really so helpful anymore, considering that he’d grown up in their small town for most of his life when his parents got tired of their own bout of city living. Sungho didn’t feel like he really belonged back there—and he’s starting to get tired of waiting to feel like he belongs here, either. Jaehyun, on the other hand, makes it look so easy, just ‘cause he’s the type of person who can belong anywhere, his energy never tamped down, always ready to rise or fall with the current of any wave.
The thing about population density is that Sungho hasn’t figured out how to ever really match up to its proportion. Back home in their small town, Sungho was too strong of a force, the whirlwinds of his mind and the depths of his personality taking up more space than his fair allotment; now, in a city as densely packed as Seoul, one that makes him feel so inconsequentially small, he can’t figure out for the life of him what it will take to make his own presence known, to shine brighter than any other star—not without getting burned. Sungho may have felt suffocated under his parents’ roof, but now it’s as if his lungs fill up with too much air, so much more oxygen than his body knows what to do with. Sungho’s not sure there are really even new places for him anywhere. He can’t help but look for what used to, what’s grown familiar.
Sungho just wants to go home.
“Park Sungho-ssi?” the professor calls out all of a sudden, and Sungho breaks out of his reverie at the speed of light, heartbeat suddenly pounding like a jackhammer in his chest.
Sungho sucks it up, and just hopes to god the question has an answer that he knows off the top of his head. Stock knowledge has saved him plenty of times before, so he prays to the gods of luck not to give up on him just yet. “Sorry—could you repeat the question?”
The professor smiles at him, not unkindly. “I was just asking what some common coping mechanisms people use to deal with failure.”
Sungho struggles not to chuckle bitterly at how fitting the question is, and even more when the guy who sits beside him—Sungho doesn’t remember his name, but thinks he remembers that he’s from a different major, and a year above him—subtly slides over his notebook, various writings under the heading, coping mechanisms, highlighted in pastel pink.
Sungho answers, “Self-handicapping?”
The professor writes it down on the whiteboard after saying thank you, and carries on with the lecture. Sungho mouths those same words to his classmate, who only responds with an expressionless nod. There are about 45 minutes left on the clock before the class is over. Sungho retreats back into his shell.
Sungho and Jaehyun’s class schedules unfortunately don’t match up in a lot of places, so Sungho mostly goes to eat lunch at 2:30 PM, alone.
It gets stronger and stronger every day, the feeling that he’s wasting this supposedly golden opportunity of his life. His parents had been so happy when his application to this university got accepted, but all that Sungho had felt in that moment was relief. Relief that his luck hadn’t run out yet, that his parents were actually ecstatic for him to spend time away from them, for once. Sungho didn’t really feel like he deserved it—all he did was study for the CSATs, take them, apply for the university, and wait. He didn’t spend sleepless nights like Jaehyun did producing songs and putting together a portfolio to get into the music department. Sungho did all the trials without any errors, and it’s coming to bite him in the ass now, when he doesn’t have any safety net other than himself and his boyfriend who, really, is dealing with this whole college thing just as much as Sungho is, and shouldn’t have to take on that responsibility on top of it, too.
And Sungho loves Jaehyun, so he doesn’t know how to tell him that this dream they embarked on together wasn’t treating him the way he thought it would, especially when it seems to be treating Jaehyun so, so well.
Sungho buys a dakgalbi rice bowl from the cafeteria. He misses the chicken that his mom would make at home, the red-sauced pieces piled up in the big, blue bowl.
[PERSONAL MESSAGES - riwoo, sungho]
sungho
riwoo-yah <
how are you? <
riwoo
> hi
> fine. you?
Sungho’s a little surprised that Riwoo replied so quickly. Honestly, Sungho’s a little surprised that Riwoo even replied at all.
[PERSONAL MESSAGES - riwoo, sungho]
sungho
fine too i guess <
thought you weren’t gonna reply ㅋㅋ aren’t you in class? <
riwoo
> ㅋㅋ yeah
> we’re watching a documentary tho. pretty sure the teacher’s dozing off at the back
> u good?
sungho
ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ <
yeah im just eating lunch now <
riwoo
> it’s like almost 3pm???
> hope the food’s good at least
sungho
it’s ok <
i have classes from 11 to 2:30 so yeah <
riwoo
> why r u messaging me?
riwoo
> yah don’t take it the wrong way, i just know you. what’s wrong
Sungho chuckles to himself after staring at that other message for too long, not really that surprised that Riwoo can still read him so well. A lot of the time, when the two of them talk one-on-one, it’s never really just trivial or surface-level.
Sungho’s food is starting to get cold.
[PERSONAL MESSAGES - riwoo, sungho]
sungho
i’m just kinda having a hard time <
you know, adjusting <
riwoo
> ahh
> i get it
> does jaehyun know?
sungho
i think he does? i haven’t brought it up though <
so we haven’t really talked about it <
i guess it’s my fault anyway bc he does ask if im ok and i just say yes so he probably thinks i’d rather handle it on my own lol <
riwoo
> okay
> what’s wrong exactly? did u fight?
sungho
no we did not fight sdhfsjhf <
he’s just thriving <
and i’m not <
imy guys <
i wanna go back home <
riwoo is typing…
Riwoo’s reply takes a little longer this time around, so Sungho puts his phone down on the table, and gets started on his food. It’s not as seasoned as he would like, but he eats it anyway. It does nothing to distract him from his spiraling thoughts, wondering what’s taking Riwoo so long to type up a response.
Sungho tries not to be too intimidated, though. Riwoo has always been a careful person—and with Sungho especially, the two of them have always been careful around each other. The two of them are the same and different in a lot of ways: they were the last additions to their friend group, having had to move into the neighborhood that Jaehyun, Taesan, Leehan and Woonhak had lived in their whole lives; but their backgrounds are stark opposite, Riwoo having had to skip a year of school as a kid because of their family’s financial issues, and Sungho literally living the farthest away from the rest of them because his family lives about three streets away where all the bigger houses are. It was difficult for Sungho to navigate at first—making friends with all of Jaehyun’s friends after lending him one of his fruit erasers the first time they met—but over time, they all adapted. Sungho did his best not to act like the snotty rich kid everyone probably thought he was, and over time, they all became the people that Sungho calls his chosen family. (Even if it took Woonhak forever to warm up to him, because he was, and he quotes, 'stealing all of Jaehyun-hyung’s attention.')
[PERSONAL MESSAGES - riwoo, sungho]
riwoo
> are u overworking yourself again? u know college is about the experience, right? ur not a high school senior anymore i promise u it’s fine if u do other stuff instead of study (assuming that’s what this is about haha just correct me if im wrong)
> sorry i dont respond much in the group chat anymore, but if u miss us im pretty sure we can facetime, just tell us when
Sungho smiles, a bite of chicken and rice trapped between his chopsticks, paused on the way to his mouth. He puts it down to type out a reply, the slight curl of his lips subtle but persistent.
Besides Jaehyun, Riwoo has always been Sungho’s main confidant, even though neither of them would have ever expected it. In their own different ways, they understand each other’s usual pressures, their sense of responsbility; their parents are hard on them both, even if it’s for different reasons. Sungho and Riwoo talk about life and the future and what it all means because it’s only ever been defined for them by everyone except them, and it’s nice to know that there’s someone who gets it, no matter how different their circumstances may be. Sungho doesn’t pretend that he can sympathize with some of Riwoo’s more practical concerns, and Riwoo doesn’t pretend that he isn’t sometimes amused by Sungho’s first-world problems—but they listen to each other, offer advice when it’s asked for, do their best not to make each other feel alone when it feels like the rest of the world’s against them. And they’ve both been pretty busy since Sungho and Jaehyun left for Seoul, so it’s nice to be able to talk to him again.
[PERSONAL MESSAGES - riwoo, sungho]
sungho
i guess im just tired <
i mean it’s fun <
i like my classes and my classmates and jaehyun finds all of these nice date places for us to go to <
but i don’t really feel like i’m meant to be here <
i kinda just wanna go back home <
idk if home wants me back either though <
but it doesn’t feel like this place wants me either <
… <
sorry <
i’ll stop complaining <
riwoo
> it’s fine
sungho
i know you’ve been so busy though <
studying for csats <
scholarship stuff <
leehan says they barely see u anymore <
riwoo
> sungho-yah
> we’re all going through our own stuff
> it’s fine
> seriously
> and i get what ur saying too
> u haven’t even been there for like 2 months yet. it’s not like everything’s just gonna fall into place overnight
sungho
seems like it’s falling into place for literally everyone else around me here <
riwoo
> i promise u they’re all faking it
sungho
:( <
jaehyun isnt faking it <
riwoo
> well jaehyun is jaehyun
> n i wont say anything more abt that
> ur the one who has access to his actual thoughts and feelings so maybe u should talk abt it
riwoo
> when ur ready
Sungho sighs. He knows Riwoo’s right. Jaehyun’s last class ends at 4 today, so maybe Sungho should just wait for him, pick him up so they can walk back together to their dorm. He’s not sure he’s ready to have this actual conversation with Jaehyun just yet—but he knows that seeing Jaehyun will make him feel better, that being with him will bring Sungho back a little bit into the parts of himself that he knows, instead of forcing him to face everything he’s so deathly uncertain of.
[PERSONAL MESSAGES - riwoo, sungho]
sungho
okay <
soon <
maybe i’ll ask him if he’s down for that facetime <
riwoo
> give me a heads up if ur doing it
> i have the group chat on mute
sungho
ㅋㅋㅋ sure <
text me if u need anything too, ok? <
riwoo
> yeah
> thank u
sungho
thank you <
also could you maybe not tell jaehyun abt this first? just need to think about it a bit more <
riwoo
> yeah of course
> just take ur time
sungho
thank you <
riwoo
> no worries
> go eat ur food
> or spam me w stuff if u want, i’ll reply later
Sungho chuckles, his heart feeling a bit more light. When he checks the time, he finds it’s been about twenty minutes since he sat down with his food, and it’s mostly gone cold by now after him texting with Riwoo for so long. Sungho doesn’t mind it much; he’ll compensate by finding something good to maybe cook or order in at the dorm with Jaehyun later, and for now he can just take a walk around campus while he waits for the clock to strike four. It’s always helped him parse out all of his thoughts, and right now, he clearly has a lot of them to try and sort through.
So he takes Riwoo’s advice, stands up from his table slowly, taking his time. He throws his leftover food away into the bin, tries not to feel too bad.
The sun on his face when he steps outside isn’t quite the same color as it is back home, but it’ll have to do.
It’s been about a week after Sungho’s conversation with Riwoo, and he still hasn’t really figured out how he wants to go about telling Jaehyun how he’s been feeling all this time.
Sungho’s pretty good at not looking like he’s all hollow inside, to be fair. He doesn’t lock himself in their dorm room all day, he smiles at strangers on campus pretty consistently, posts his pictures with Jaehyun on Instagram from their weekend plans. To pretty much any onlooker, for all intents and purposes, Sungho is living his best life. Maybe now he gets what Riwoo meant when he said everyone was faking it. God, it feels so draining to even think that everyone else, deep down, was feeling exactly like this, too.
It’s trickier with Jaehyun, though. Jaehyun has learned to be so open about his feelings that it’s a little hard for Sungho to really express his. Jaehyun is having an amazing time at college with all his music major friends, all the others that he met at his music production club—he’d already even introduced Sungho to Lee Sohee and Sung Hanbin—but he also isn’t greedy with his declarations of missing their friends back home, of missing his parents, his house, his own bed. Jaehyun says he misses being back home and Sungho says yeah, me too— but it never carries the weight he wants it to. He doesn’t know how to tell Jaehyun, I miss being home so bad, but I don’t want to go back either, but I don’t really feel at home here and I don’t know if I’ll ever belong anywhere on my own.
Instead, what Sungho says on a quiet, Friday evening in their dorm room is, “Jaehyun-ah, I think I’m gonna video chat my parents tonight. Can you be on the call with me?”
Jaehyun blinks up at him from the bed, scooting towards where Sungho’s standing at the foot of it. “Oh? Sure, of course, Yeppi. Did your mom want to call, or…?”
Jaehyun pats the bed beside him, folding his legs up to make room. Sungho sits beside him comfortably, knees bumping together when Sungho answers. “No. I just want to.”
“Hm?” Jaehyun hums, looking at him curiously. “You wanna talk to your parents? I mean, of course you can do that, but…”
“I’m just homesick, I guess,” Sungho explains, rolling his eyes playfully. It’s not like it’s a secret to anyone that they’re not exactly the closest family, so he definitely gets Jaehyun’s bewilderment. “I don’t know, I’m still bad at cooking. I miss homemade dakgalbi.”
“I think you cook fine,” Jaehyun compliments softly, his smile much more stripped-back as he notices the hint of vulnerability in Sungho’s tone, slipping through the cracks. “You sure you want me to be on the call, though? I mean, I’ll stay here if you want, but maybe you can talk to your parents a little more if it’s just you.”
“Eh, you know they’re nicer to me when you’re around,” Sungho muses, to which Jaehyun pouts. It’s true, though; they both know it is. “It’s really fine. You’ll make my mom’s day, I bet.”
Jaehyun opens his mouth and then closes it, tentative. He knows that what Sungho’s saying is true—even if it drives a lifelong stake just a little deeper into Sungho’s heart every time he remembers it. Sungho’s parents have always been on the more judgmental side when it comes to Sungho’s choices about… well, everything, but they certainly soften up when Jaehyun’s around. It took them a while to come around to their other friends, funnily enough—but with Jaehyun, it was instant. Jaehyun just has that aura about him, he supposes. It’s effortless, getting people to fall for his charm. Even if Jaehyun had his own reservations about Sungho’s family from the stories Sungho’s told him, he was always the perfect amount of outgoing and respectful that at least made Sungho’s parents approve of his choice of best friend. And boyfriend, too, for that matter. Sungho knows that Jaehyun’s offering not to be on the call because Sungho has acknowledged several times that his parents almost definitely like Jaehyun more than they like him—which is fine, because, well, Sungho should probably feel lucky that they like Jaehyun at all. Sungho literally can’t think of anything else that he likes that they like, too.
Their cat, maybe. Sungho and his parents both like Jaehyun, and their cat, and that’s it.
So, a few minutes later when Sungho deems himself ready for it, he lets Jaehyun hold the phone as the video call screen on his messaging app starts to ring. It takes a little longer than usual, and Sungho’s almost ready to just drop the call and go into the bathroom and stop himself from crying—until the ringing finally stops and his mom’s familiar voice echoes from the phone speaker, warped through layers of static, but still her.
“Hello?” She says tentatively, adjusting the phone screen to show her face. “Hi, Sungho-yah, Jaehyun-ah! How are you guys doing?”
There’s something that sounds like genuine exictement in her voice to see them— both of them —and Sungho didn’t expect that his chest would tighten up this soon.
“Hi, Imo!” Jaehyun answers first, holding the phone farther away to show more of Sungho, who answers his mom’s greeting with a quieter wave. “We’re doing good! Just finished a bunch of classes today, so we’re looking forward to the weekend, of course.”
“Oh, that’s nice, that’s nice!” Sungho’s mom laughs cheerfully, eyes crinkling at Jaehyun’s energy. Sungho’s heart twists so hard in his chest and he’s not even talking to her. He does a decent job of holding it in, though, and Jaehyun squeezes his hand where they’re interlocked, out of frame. “Any plans tomorrow?”
“Do we?” Jaehyun turns to Sungho for a second, and Sungho just shrugs, appreciative of how Jaehyun tries to include him. Jaehyun turns back to the phone screen, and mirrors Sungho’s answer. “No, Imo, I don’t think so. Maybe we’ll go out if we feel like it, maybe we won’t.”
“Have a lot of homework, too,” Sungho finally speaks up for the first time, soft as his voice may be.
“You two should have fun, Sungho-yah!” his mom says in response, the material manifestation of they’ll be nicer to me if you’re there. Sungho smiles at her without his eyes. “Jaehyun-ah, make sure the two of you both have a good time, okay?”
“Of course, Imo,” Jaehyun answers dutifully, turning to look at Sungho with so much love in his eyes, it almost turns Sungho’s smile real. “We can’t wait to come back for the summer, though. Sungho says he misses your dakgalbi.”
Sungho blinks in surprise at the sudden words, at Jaehyun suddenly telling Sungho’s mother these things—even these trivial things—that Sungho can’t really bear to say himself. On the phone, she answers, “Oh, really? I should send you the recipe sometime. Do you boys try to cook in your dorm kitchen? I hope you’re not just ordering food all the time, hm?”
It still wouldn’t be the same, Sungho wants to say—but he doesn’t. He lets Jaehyun carry the conversation for them both, just watches his mom walk around the house as she talks on the phone. It’s one of her oldest habits. Sungho’s dad must not be back from work yet. Sungho sees the big, blue bowl in the background, sitting empty on the kitchen counter. He wonders if, when he goes back to visit, his mom will let him take it back to Seoul.
Sungho doesn’t speak for most of the call, letting Jaehyun talk his mom’s ear off with his own little stories of university life. Sungho almost wishes he had some of his own, but he knows he wouldn’t talk about them with her even if he did. He scrambles silently, wracks his brain for anything interesting to say that might get his mother’s attention—but he simply comes up short. There’s nothing he wants to say except I miss you. But it’s just not the kind of thing that Sungho ever says.
“Yeppi, look, it’s Simba,” Jaehyun whispers under his breath after a few more minutes of talking, bringing the phone closer to both their faces to get a closer look at Sungho’s family cat, who Sungho’s mom is capturing with her phone camera now. Sungho softens up a little bit at the sight, and at illusion of his mom’s face no longer being on camera, even if Sungho knows that she can still see him.
“Hi, Simba,” Sungho coos in a higher-pitched tone, eyes crinkling at the little blob of fur meowing at him through the phone screen. “Hi! I miss you! Hi, Simba!”
That’s most of what he says for the rest of the call, until his mom flips the camera onto herself again, and she and Jaehyun talk some more.
It’s quiet in Sungho’s head for the rest of it, hazy and dream-like. It takes him by surprise when Jaehyun squeezes his hand again and says, “Bye, Imo! We’re gonna eat dinner soon, Sungho just wanted to call for a bit.”
“Ah, really?” she says with a smile, briefly catching Sungho’s eyes through the camera. “Well, that’s nice. You can call whenever you want, okay?”
Jaehyun doesn’t answer for him this time, so Sungho nods into the camera, still a little unsure. “...Okay.”
“Alright, I’ll let you two go now, your dad’s gonna be back soon.” Sungho’s mom makes sure to show one last frame of Simba for the road, picking the cat up off the floor to be in the frame with her as she finally says, “Have a good night, you two. Love you, Sungho-yah.”
Sungho keeps his neutral expression plastered on, saying goodbye with a little wave even as the dam behind his eyes is threatening to burst. “Bye, mom.”
“Bye, Imo!” Jaehyun says much more cheerfully yet again, both of them watching Sungho’s mom wave at the camera before Jaehyun presses the End Call button, and the room is plunged into silence once more.
That is, until Sungho tips his head onto Jaehyun’s shoulder, face all scrunched up, tears soaking into the fabric of Jaehyun’s hoodie.
“Oh— Oh, hey, Yeppi, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Jaehyun says frantically as he realizes what’s happening, hands coming up to Sungho’s cheeks, up into his hair. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here, just let it out, let it out, Sungho-yah…”
Sungho does. He’s a quiet crier, but he bleeds all of his tears out into Jaehyun’s shoulder in the moment, all his pent up emotions flooding onto his cheeks. Sungho’s arm moves to pull Jaehyun in closer almost on instinct, and Jaehyun follows obediently, wrapping him in his arms. He doesn’t nag, doesn’t push; Jaehyun simply lets Sungho cry his eyes out to his heart’s content, face hidden and shoulders shaking, and Sungho still doesn’t really know how he’s going to explain himself to his boyfriend after the onslaught of tears.
“W– We sh– We should g– get a cat,” Sungho stutters, giggling through his tears, coming up out of his hiding place in Jaehyun’s shoulder to find two, very concerned-looking eyes staring back at him, Jaehyun’s face a particular brand of worry that Sungho finds to be pretty rare, even for him. “I— I miss home. I miss my cat, Jaehyun-ah, I want to go home.”
Jaehyun nods, slowly, and then faster as more and more of it clicks into place.
“We can’t get a cat,” Jaehyun plays along gently, brushing a strand of hair away from Sungho’s eyes. “We can’t get a cat—but we can make this our home. Okay? I’m sorry I didn’t notice how homesick you were.”
Sungho shakes his head at the apology, reaching out for Jaehyun’s hand. “It’s not— It’s not your fault. I just… I don’t even think I miss home, I mean, I don’t even feel at home with my family, and I still don’t feel like I belong anywhere here, and—at least back home I had you guys. Now I’m just…”
“Hey, hey,” Jaehyun coaxes him out when Sungho tries to hide his face in his hand again, “You still have us,” he reassures, squeezing their hands tight, “You still have me.”
“I know,” Sungho pouts, another tear falling down his cheek when he looks into Jaehyun’s eyes, shame pooling hot and unpleasant in his gut, “I know, and you’re doing so well, but I don’t know what I’m doing and I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want you to be disappointed,” Sungho sniffles, eyes cast down at their hands, “I’m just not so sure anymore that I’m as great as everyone told me I was before we came here.”
Jaehyun shakes his head, the look on his face shifting into something more determined, more serious.
“You’re ridiculous,” Jaehyun scolds gently, looking right up into Sungho’s swollen eyes. “Nothing about you is disappointing, Park Sungho. I know people have told you that, but I never will. I love you. Everything about you. We’re in this together—but you have to let me in.”
Sungho nods. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no. Don’t apologize. Look at me.” Jaehyun tips his chin up with a finger, gently coaxing Sungho into looking at him through the clumps of tears in his eyelashes, the tracks still sticky on his cheeks. Jaehyun swipes some away with his thumb. “There you are.”
Jaehyun smiles at him softly, his eyes seemingly tracing every outline of Sungho’s face, even as Sungho’s eyes flit downward at the sudden onslaught of attention. Sungho rolls his eyes fondly after a few seconds, his voice barely a whisper as he says half-heartedly, “Stop looking at me like that.”
Jaehyun doesn’t stop. He moves forward even closer, whispers softly into the few inches of empty space between them.
“We don’t have to talk about this right now,” Jaehyun soothes, a melodic lilt to his tone. “I know it’s a lot right now, but we should talk about this. If you’re having a hard time, I wanna know. Whenever you’re ready, okay?”
Sungho sniffles. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” Sungho muses, chuckling breathily. “Let’s talk about it over dinner. Maybe you’ll help me get somewhere, for once. Help me figure it out.”
“Okay, deal.” Jaehyun gives him one of his toothy smiles, leans forward to press his lips to the tip of Sungho’s nose, making the bridge of it crinkle. “Wanna order dakgalbi?”
That makes Sungho smile, but he says no. More than anything, right now, it’s Jaehyun’s presence that makes him feel the most warm—the most like home. It always is, really. Sungho should tell him that more.
“I love you,” Sungho says, just as Jaehyun moves to get off the bed.
Jaehyun’s smile is wobbly when he says it back. “I love you, too.”
They settle on a simple dinner, cola and ramyeon in their tiny dorm room, and Sungho savors the feeling of taking up exactly as much space as he needs.
When the food’s cooked, Jaehyun makes a trip to the dorm room down the hall, and returns to their table with a borrowed bowl, the same shade as Sungho’s house’s blue.