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Summer.
A fleeting breath of warmth that wraps around you like a gentle embrace.
It is a time for new beginnings and unexpected encounters, where the world seems to stretch a little wider.
This is how their story began .
Sohee had always imagined summer before university differently—long, lazy, fun-filled days at the beach. Yet here he was, with his heart numb beneath the weight of uncertainty.
At 18, he stood on the corner of adulthood, the last taste of freedom before university life settled in.
He had chosen to escape the noise of his hometown, seeking solace along a distant coast. The familiar sound of crashing waves filled his ears, giving him a feeling of nostalgia.
I really have grown up, haven’t I.
Sighing, he wandered along the shoreline, his feet sinking into the warm sand while taking in the view before him. Each step felt like a small rebellion against the expectations that loomed over him, especially from his parents, who weren’t that supportive when Sohee decided to pursue music.
He took a deep breath as he tried to find a moment of clarity amidst the confusion of his future.
“Why did I even think this was a good idea?” he muttered to himself, kicking at a stray shell.
Wonbin had just turned 21, a milestone that seemed to demand more than he was ready to give.
He had freshly embarked on his journey as a founder of a start-up company, he wore the weight of responsibility with a mix of pride and anxiety—mostly the latter though. The pressure to succeed felt too suffocating at times, leading him to seek refuge in this calm escape by a familiar coast far away from his city.
As he strolled along the shore, he tried to push away thoughts of work, work, and more work . He wanted nothing more than to breathe, to simply exist without anyone’s expectations weighing him down.
Meanwhile, the sun continued to shine a golden glow over everything it touched, including the moment when they collided.
Two souls have fallen into the ebb and flow of the summer tide yet again.
Sohee had just turned just as Wonbin approached, their eyes locking for the briefest of moments.
Time seemed to slow, the world around them fading into a blur. Sohee’s heart skipped a beat, a fire igniting within him. While Wonbin felt a warmth spreading through his chest which confused him.
A lot .
“Sorry….” Sohee murmured, looking up at Wonbin, his cheeks starting to get redder by the second.
The sun painted Sohee’s features in warm hues, and for a moment there, Wonbin lost himself in the beauty of the younger male.
Ah… this can’t be right.
“No, it’s my fault,” Wonbin replied, shaking his thoughts away.
This is nothing but a fleeting encounter. I shouldn’t think much about this.
They wouldn’t even be seeing each other the next time so he had nothing to worry about.
Or so he thought.
“I should have been paying attention.”
They stood there for a moment longer, uncertainty hanging between them. The silence was too tangible yet it also served comfort to the both of them.
“I’m Sohee. Lee Sohee,” he introduced himself, breaking the looming spell that seemed to put both of them in a trance.
“Wonbin,” he responded, his eyes studying Sohee with curiosity, “What brings you here? I’ve never seen you around here before.”
“I needed a break. Things have been… overwhelming back home,” Sohee shrugged, suddenly feeling shy under Wonbin’s gaze, “Thought I’d find some solace and inspiration by the sea.”
“Understandable,” Wonbin nodded, sensing a depth to Sohee’s words that intrigued him. “By the way, how old are you, Sohee?” Wonbin asked, genuinely curious.
“Me? I’m turning 19 this week, so… 18, “ Sohee replied, his eyes now decorated with warmth, “It feels like a big deal, you know? Like I’m officially an adult now.”
Wonbin couldn’t help but smile fondly at Sohee’s spirit, “That’s a good age so don’t worry about it. As for me, I just turned 21 a few weeks ago.”
“21?! Woah… Hyung, what’s it like being in your twenties?” Sohee found himself wanting to know more about the older man. Not just because he found him insanely attractive but also just to look for advice from someone who’s experienced life longer.
Wonbin chuckled at the way Sohee called him ‘hyung,’ the word softening the tension between them.
“It’s complicated,” he admitted, his gaze shifting to the waves, “There’s this pressure to have everything figured out, to succeed. But… it’s also freeing in a way. You kind of just learn to navigate it as you go, even if you don’t always know where you’re heading.”
“So, it’s just a different kind of overwhelming??” Sohee mused, nodding in understanding, “I get that I think… But it seems like hyung is handling it well.”
“Thanks, Sohee,” Wonbin replied, his heart involuntarily fluttering at Sohee’s compliment. He gave a small smile, glancing at Sohee.
“Sohee…” he repeated the younger’s name, making Sohee feel a bit lightheaded with the way his name rolled off Wonbin’s tongue. ”It’s nice to meet someone still so full of life despite all the shit that’s happening. I wish I had that in me still.”
Sohee shook his head to compose himself, chuckling lightly, “Honestly, I’m just trying to figure it all out. It feels like everyone expects me to have my life planned out by now, but I just want to enjoy this summer before everything goes kaplurt.”
A part of Wonbin envied that carefree attitude.
Sohee was at a pivotal point in his life, and yet… he radiated a glow that seemed so foreign to him. “You’re brave, Sohee,” he replied, a hint of admiration slipping through despite his inner constraints.
“And you, hyung?” Sohee asked, tilting his head slightly, “You seem like you have it all together, somehow.”
Wonbin forced out a smile, masking the turmoil churning within him, “Not really. I’m just… trying to keep my head above the water with my new company.” The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the responsibility he had chosen. “It’s a lot, and sometimes I feel like I’m just running in circles.”
As he spoke, he couldn’t help but notice the way Sohee’s eyes sparkled with understanding. It was as if Sohee saw through the facade Wonbin wore so well, unraveling the layers of his guarded heart. The warmth of that subtle connection sent an unexpected jolt through him, stirring feelings he couldn’t afford to entertain.
Wonbin swallowed hard, grappling with the growing intensity of his feelings.
He shouldn’t be feeling this way.
He had been raised to believe that love was strictly defined—a man should love a woman, and nothing else was acceptable. The idea of feeling something for another man felt like a betrayal of everything he’d ever known. Wonbin had never looked at a man like this before.
Yet, here he stood, drawn to Sohee in a way that both terrified and excited him. Everything he’d been taught before warned against these feelings, but something about Sohee shattered those walls.
It clicked all at once.
In a way, he found himself wanting to protect Sohee—that understanding warmth in his eyes, his entire being . The thought was confusing to him— overwhelming even, leaving him more conflicted than ever. Despite everything, he found himself wanting to know more about Sohee, to dive deeper into the mystery of the boy who stood before him with such unfiltered joy.
Wonbin cleared his throat, “So Sohee, do you have any plans here? For summer?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the unsettling direction his thoughts had taken. “Well,” Sohee started, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “I was hoping to explore more of this coast. Maybe try surfing or find a hidden cafe. Just to make the most of the few days I have here.”
“Sounds adventurous,” Wonbin said with a small smile, secretly wishing he could join in on those adventures, “Maybe I could point you to some good spots, if you’d like.”
“Really? That’d be amazing!” Sohee beamed and Wonbin couldn’t help but smile even wider.
In that moment, he realized that he didn’t want this fleeting encounter to end.
Yeah, I’m fucked, Wonbin thought to himself.
As their eyes met, he was reminded of the barriers that stood between them.
Just don’t get too attached, Wonbin.
A part of him yearned for something more, something that felt dangerously right.
But he knew in his heart that he absolutely can’t .
The sun dipped lower in the sky, leaving a dim blue aura that made the sand cooler beneath their feet, as they got to know each other more.
Sohee felt a strange sense of ease wash over him, like he had known Wonbin for much longer than just a few hours.
They exchanged stories—Sohee shared his dreams of studying music, while Wonbin talked about the challenges of starting his company.
They were slowly inching closer, both feeling the magnetic pull between them. The world around them seemed to take a pause, replaced by the steady rhythm of the waves and the silent connection forming between them.
“So, you’re really just here for summer huh?” Wonbin asked as they walked by the shoreline slowly, the sea breeze ruffling his hair. “A couple of days, yeah…” Sohee nodded, looking out to the darkening waters, “Just a little more freedom before life becomes… I don’t know, complicated, I guess.”
Wonbin watched him carefully, the subtle weight of Sohee’s words hanging between them. There was something about Sohee’s honesty, something that pulled at him despite the quiet alarms ringing in his head.
Sohee wasn’t like anyone else he’d met before—free-spirited yet tethered to a certain vulnerability. And the contrast intrigued him.
“Complicated,” Wonbin echoed Sohee’s words, half-smiling, “That’s one way to put it.” Sohee glanced up at him, curiosity in his eyes, “What do you mean, hyung?”
Wonbin sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Starting a company at my age, dealing with all these expectations… It’s like I’m being pulled in a hundred different directions.” He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not as freeing as people think. But you wouldn’t guess that just by looking at me, right?”
Sohee’s expression softened, his voice lowering as he got serious, “No, hyung. I can tell from our conversation. You carry a lot on your shoulders.”
The sincerity and seriousness in his words took Wonbin offguard, a pang of emotion flickering inside him. It made him feel exposed but also comforted in a strange way, as if he didn’t have to hide with Sohee.
“You know,” Sohee continued, kicking the sand gently as they walked, “I always thought people had to have everything figured out by the time they hit their twenties. But hearing hyung talk about it, I guess no one really does.”
Wonbin half-scoffed, half-giggled, “No one really does, noh? You just figure it out as you go.”
Sohee’s smile grew warmer, his heart unexpectedly soothed by Wonbin’s words. He hadn’t expected to find someone like Wonbin here—someone who appeared so cool and put-together, yet shared the same uncertainty he often felt.
“That actually makes me feel better about not having my whole life planned out, hyung,” he admitted. “Good,” Wonbin said, his tone lighter now, “We’ll figure it out together. Maybe.”
Maybe.
The word hung in the air, leaving a question mark between them— what would this summer even bring?
What did together even mean for two people who had only just met but already felt like they’d known each other for longer?
“Sohee,” Wonbin broke the silence, his voice tentative, “Should we head back? Or…” He hesitated, his gaze shifting to meet Sohee’s, only to find those soft eyes already on him.
The gentle look in Sohee’s eyes made something in Wonbin’s chest tighten. He swallowed hard before averting his gaze and continuing, his voice barely steady, “O-or… do you want to stay out here for a bit longer?”
Sohee’s eyes widened as he hesitated for a moment, then shifted his gaze from Wonbin’s eyes to the now dark sky, “Maybe we can build a small campfire,” he suggested, a grin lighting up his face, “Make the most out of tonight with hyung.”
Wonbin smiled softly, “Alright, let’s do it.”
Together, they gathered some driftwood, laughing at their awkward attempts to get a fire going.
Sohee’s playful side came out in full force, teasing Wonbin everytime the older male fumbled with the lighter. “Hyung, I thought you were supposed to be the cool one,” Sohee joked while continuously poking Wonbin’s arm. “Shut up,” Wonbin muttered with a chuckle, shaking his head but secretly loving the way Sohee’s laugh sounded against the backdrop of the ocean.
Finally, after a few more attempts, the fire sparked to life. They sat beside it, the warmth a comforting contrast to the cool night air. Silence stretched between them again, but it was a comfortable one, filled with the crackle of the fire and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore.
Sohee hugged his knees, staring into the flames. Wonbin sat next to him, closer than before, feeling the tension and awareness grow between them.
“I’ve never seen so many stars,” Sohee mused quietly, gazing up at the night sky. “They’re always there,” Wonbin replied, his voice gentle as he watched Sohee, the boy’s face glowing softly in the light. His gaze lingered a moment too long, tracing the curve of Sohee’s cheek and the way the light played on his features. “It’s just easier to see them here. No city lights to drown them out.”
Sohee smiled, his lips curling in a way that made Wonbin’s heart ache, a gentle warmth spreading through him in ways he didn’t want to admit.
“What’s it like, hyung?” Sohee asked, turning his head slightly to meet Wonbin’s eyes. “What?” Wonbin replied back, though he had a feeling he knew what Sohee was about to ask.
“Running your own company. Having all that responsibility.”
Wonbin sighed, his fingers digging into the sand, “It’s not as glamorous as people think. Everyone expects you to succeed. And if you don’t, you’re automatically a failure.” Sohee blinked at him, clearly trying to understand where Wonbin was coming from, “But… you’re doing it. And that’s amazing.”
Wonbin shrugged, tearing his gaze away from Sohee’s, “It doesn’t feel that way at all.”
“You’re just being hard on yourself, hyung,” Sohee said as he sat up a little, “You’ve done something people wouldn’t even dream of doing at your age. You should be proud of yourself, hyung.”
Wonbin wanted to believe him. He wanted to feel that pride.
But it wasn’t just the weight of his career that bothered him.
There was something far more personal eating away at him, and it involved the boy sitting just centimeters away.
Sohee had noticed it too. How Wonbin would sometimes pull away, his eyes clouding with unspoken thoughts. At first, he thought it was because Wonbin was overwhelmed with work or life in general, but it soon became clear that there was a bit of something else—something deeper .
Yet, Sohee didn’t push. He respected the wall Wonbin put up, even though it made his chest ache a little.
“This day has been… unexpected to say the least. But… I’m glad I met you today, hyung,” Sohee said softly, the words carrying a weight he really didn’t mean to reveal.
Wonbin’s heart had skipped a beat at the admission. He looked at Sohee, who was gazing up at the sky again, unaware of the storm those simple words had unleashed inside him.
Wonbin wanted to say something— anything —to acknowledge the connection that had formed between them.
But he couldn’t.
His throat tightened, and he felt the familiar pang of fear grip onto him. Because despite how much he enjoyed Sohee’s company so far, there was a boundary he couldn’t cross.
A boundary that had been drilled into him since he was young.
Men didn’t fall for other men. It was wrong . Unacceptable . But here he was, feeling something that he couldn’t shake off. And the more time they spent together, the stronger it grew.
“I should go,” Wonbin said suddenly, his voice rougher than intended. Sohee blinked, startled by the sudden shift in the atmosphere, “What? Why?”
“I just… I have things to attend to,” Wonbin replied as he pushed himself to his feet, wiping the sand that clung to his clothes and skin. Sohee frowned but nodded slowly, the hurt flickering in his eyes for just a moment before he buried it with a smile, “Okay… well… I’ll see you tomorrow, hyung.”
Wonbin hesitated, his mind in a war with his heart. He wanted to say yes, wanted to promise that he’d be there again tomorrow, then the next day, and the day after that. But he knew he couldn’t.
He couldn’t keep doing this—letting these feelings foster.
“Yeah… tomorrow,” Wonbin said quietly, though his words felt like a lie.
As he walked away, the sound of the waves fading behind him, his chest ached with the weight of what he couldn’t say tonight.
He genuinely enjoyed the unexpected encounter he had with Sohee today—it even made his entire day as much as he hated to admit it. And as much as he wanted to return to that campfire, to the warmth of Sohee’s company, he knew that this has to end as soon as possible.
He returned to his family’s beach house with a heavy heart, knowing that tomorrow would only bring more pain for him.
As for Sohee, the day had been absolutely perfect. He felt alive, like he had found someone he didn’t even know he was looking for.
The sun, the stars, the campfire, the gentle breeze… all of it seemed to whisper of something fated.
He couldn’t wait to see Wonbin again the next day, his heart light with the thrill of a new and unexpected summer romance.
The days that followed their unexpected encounter at the beach blended into a vivid tapestry of laughter, discovery, and bittersweet longing that hung in the air.
Sohee woke up earlier than usual, excitement thrumming through his veins as he recalled the previous day’s events—the way Wonbin’s smile was engraved in his mind, the sound of his chuckles, the warmth of their shared moments lingering like an embrace.
Then, their adventures began on the second day. They decided to explore a nearby seaside town, a charming place brimming with small shops and vibrant street vendors.
Sohee was drawn to a stall selling colorful trinkets, his eyes wide with wonder as he picked up a delicate seashell necklace. He held it up to the sunlight, basking on how its iridescence glimmered against the light.
“Should I get it?” he asked, glancing over at Wonbin who stood a few steps away, casually leaning against a wooden post. Wonbin pushed himself off the post and slowly approached Sohee, a playful grin lighting up his face.
“Definitely. It suits you. You’ll be a real beach boy now.” Sohee laughed, the sound bright and carefree, and decided to buy the necklace.
As they walked away, Sohee was struggling to clip the necklace around his neck. Wonbin seemed to notice this and sighed fondly at the sight of Sohee struggling.
Wonbin wanted to help him, but of course, he was hesitating.
“Hyung, can you give me hand please?”
At this point, Wonbin didn’t really have a choice but to help him—not that he didn’t want to. In fact, he liked this. He liked being close to Sohee, even in the most subtle ways like this—helping him with his necklace, the casual brush of their fingers while scanning for things to buy.
All of these moments painfully tugged on his heart but his mind wasn’t going to let him have it. Nonetheless, he went behind Sohee and fastened the necklace, his fingers brushing against the soft skin at the nape of Sohee’s neck.
Wonbin could feel his pulse quicken as he worked the clasp, the intimacy of the moment hitting him all at once. Sohee’s hair smelled faintly of saltwater, shampoo, and summer, and for a brief second, Wonbin allowed himself to get lost in the scent.
“There,” he said softly, his voice quieter than usual as he finished fastening the necklace. He didn’t move away immediately, lingering just a second too long before stepping back.
Sohee turned around, his eyes sparkling with gratitude, completely unaware of the internal battle Wonbin was fighting. “How does it look?” Sohee asked, lifting the seashell pendant between his fingers, but his gaze was locked on Wonbin’s face.
Wonbin’s heart skipped a beat, “Perfect,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.
Sohee took a step closer, his smile softening, and Wonbin’s breath caught in his throat. He was standing too close, and everything about this moment felt too much. His eyes flicked down to Wonbin’s lips for a fraction of a second before he blinked, pulling away just enough to keep things casual.
But the atmosphere had already shifted, the tension lingering between them becoming tangible by the second.
“L-let’s go to the next stall, hyung…” Sohee cleared his throat and started walking away from Wonbin who was still in a daze after that delicate moment of intimacy. He followed right after, still in a bit of a trance, jogging a bit to catch up to Sohee.
The two then continued to spend the afternoon wandering the town, sampling local delicacies from food stalls, their laughter blending into the sounds of the bustling market.
And as they made their way back to the beach, the sun began its descent once again, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. They decide to settle down on the sand, the cool breeze gently caressing their skin.
This setting was starting to become increasingly familiar to the both of them, along with each other’s presence.
For Sohee, it felt like a dream.
Every moment with Wonbin was soaked in the warmth of nostalgia, like something he'd imagined years ago but never believed could come true. Each passing second solidified the fact that he had never felt more at peace than when he is by Wonbin’s side.
For Wonbin, though, it was something entirely different.
He couldn't stop the battle waging inside him, the constant push and pull of what he wanted and what he thought he should want. Sitting next to Sohee on the beach, the naturally intimate ambience around them, the proximity of their hands laid bare on the sand, it all felt too real—too raw .
His feelings were no longer something he could ignore—even if he knew it went against what he was taught. But with every smile Sohee sent his way, every casual touch, it felt as though his heart was being pulled in two different directions.
Sohee leaned back on his hands, his eyes drifting to the horizon, “Do you think we’ll remember this years from now?” he asked quietly, almost to himself.
Wonbin turned his gaze to Sohee, his heart squeezing at the sight of him bathed in the colors of the sunset, "Yeah," he said softly, his voice laden with more than just the simple agreement. "I think some things are just impossible to forget."
Sohee glanced over at him, a small smile pulling at his lips, but there was something deeper in his eyes.
Something hopeful, yet uncertain. “I hope so,” Sohee whispered, his words carried off by the wind.
Sohee’s fingers dug into the sand, and his heart was beating faster than usual. "Hyung, do you ever wonder what it would be like... if things were different?" He wasn’t even sure what he meant, or maybe he did, but it was easier to leave the question open ended, to let Wonbin fill in the blanks.
Wonbin’s chest tightened at the question. He wondered about it every day, every second he spent with Sohee. He had imagined it more times than he cared to admit—what it would be like if he let himself fall. Really fall.
But he couldn't— wouldn’t —let himself be swept away by what he felt. He had spent years teaching himself to hide, to suppress the things that didn’t fit within the boundaries he had been raised to follow.
And no matter how much his heart yearned for Sohee, this... this was something he couldn’t allow himself to have.
For a brief second, as Sohee's fingers brushed against his, Wonbin felt the temptation to let it all go. To give in to the warmth of Sohee’s touch, the promise of something more.
But just as quickly as the thought came, he crushed it.
So instead, Wonbin smiled softly, masking the turmoil inside him. “I think... sometimes we all wonder about things that could be or could’ve been different,” he said, his voice calm and measured, though it cost him everything to keep it that way, “But wondering doesn’t change reality, Sohee. It doesn’t change anything at all.”
Sohee blinked, the weight of his words crashing against him harder than he expected.
He had been hoping, maybe foolishly, for something more. A tiny hint of mutual understanding, a glimpse that Wonbin might feel even a fraction of what he was feeling.
But as he stared into Wonbin’s calm, composed expression, the realization hit him—Wonbin wasn’t going to meet him halfway. His heart sank, but he forced himself to smile, even if it felt like a lie.
“Yeah... you’re right, hyung.” His voice came out quieter than he meant it to, and he hated that Wonbin might hear the crack of disappointment in it.
Sohee wanted to keep this moment light, casual, just like always—but it was too late for that.
Wonbin’s chest ached at the sight of Sohee’s faltering smile, but he forced himself to stay composed, to keep the distance between them—no matter how much it hurt.
Sohee turned his gaze back to the ocean. This moment, this setting, had been everything he imagined it could be, but somehow it felt wrong now. As if he had let himself dream too far, too fast.
For a while, neither of them spoke, the tension making the silence unbearable.
Wonbin shifted beside him, and Sohee instinctively glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but the emotional distance between them felt astronomically larger than the physical space separating them.
And that scared them.
Wonbin finally stood up, brushing the sand off his hands. “We should probably head back,” he said, offering a hand to Sohee. Sohee stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, his mind spinning with a thousand unspoken words he wanted to say, but none of them seemed right.
With a slight hesitation, he took Wonbin’s hand, though his grip was a little looser than usual, his heart too heavy to hold on like he normally would.
“Yeah... let’s go,” he mumbled, his voice lacking the usual cheer it carried when they were together.
As they made their way back up the beach, their footsteps fell into sync, but the silence between them was deafening.
Sohee couldn’t shake the feeling of loss settling deep in his chest, the realization that maybe—just maybe—he had read the signs wrong all along.
Beside him, Wonbin snuck a glance at Sohee, his heart aching as he watched him retreat into his thoughts. He would never show Sohee the truth, no matter how much it tore him apart.
They still have time left together, and that was all they could allow themselves to hold onto.
That something might change .
The next day as they woke up, they silently agreed to themselves to leave yesterday's tension behind—it was a new day after all. Without speaking it aloud, they chose to focus on the present, determined not to let anything spoil the little time that remained.
So today, they decided to go for a hike along the coastal cliffs during the late morning.
The scenery was absolutely breathtaking and Sohee felt invigorated as they climbed, the salty air filling his lungs and the thrill of adventure coursing through him.
Wonbin, beside him, was encouraging him when the path became steep. “Just a little further,” Wonbin called, his voice filled with excitement, “I promise… the view at the top is worth it.”
With every step, Sohee felt a growing sense of exhilaration, not just from the hike but also from the time spent with Wonbin.
Although they had that exchange the previous day, it still didn’t stop Sohee from feeling so strongly towards his hyung.
Then, they finally reached the summit in the early afternoon. They stood at the edge, the world spread out before them.
“It’s beautiful,” Sohee breathed, his gaze still fixed on the horizon.
Not as beautiful as you.
That would’ve been what Wonbin wanted to say but he held himself back.
“Yeah,” Wonbin murmured before turning his head to look at Sohee who was still engrossed at the view, “It really is,” he muttered under his breath while admiring the young male’s features, kissed by the light of the afternoon sun.
There was a pause, a moment where neither of them moved, as if the air between them had thickened.
Sohee’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the unsaid pressing down on him. He glanced at Wonbin, wondering if he felt it too—this pull that seemed to be growing stronger with every second they spent together.
And when Wonbin finally met his gaze, the wall he had built around himself crumbled even more. His feelings for Sohee were growing exponentially and he didn’t know what to do with it anymore.
God, what the fuck should I do now?
They decided to make their way down the cliffs after sitting in quietness for a long time. The sun had started to set, casting the world in warm hues. Their journey downwards was a stark contrast to the silence at the top of the cliff earlier.
This time, they talked about everything and nothing—silly jokes and laughter escaping from their lips like it was their last day on Earth.
Sohee felt lighter than he had in years, so caught up in the bliss of the moment. It felt so easy, so right, to be with Wonbin. He genuinely likes Wonbin and wants to be near him.
But for Wonbin, it wasn’t easy but it did feel right. He craved to be selfish, to hold onto this feeling, yet deep down, he wrestled with the values that conflicted with his desires. And this was beginning to affect him in ways he never imagined.
At their first encounter, he had thought it would be a fleeting interaction— nothing more, nothing less —just a brief connection without anything to follow. But now, after spending the last few days together, neither Wonbin nor Sohee seemed willing to let go.
“Hyung, do you want to light a campfire again tonight?” Sohee asked after a moment of contemplation. Wonbin hesitated, knowing that this could lead to another intimate and romantic evening like last night.
But ‘ fuck it ,’ he thought, pushing his reservations aside. He could feel his defenses slipping away, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. The pull to be with Sohee was too strong to ignore despite the battle between his mind and his heart.
“Sure,” he replied nonchalantly, trying to mask his internal struggle, before dashing off to gather driftwood.
As Sohee stood alone at the foot of the cliff, he let out a soft sigh, mentally bracing himself for the conversation that was about to unfold.
The campfire was set up on the beach, the flames flickering and dancing, illuminating their faces with a warm glow.
A wave of belonging washed over Sohee, and he wished he could freeze this moment in time. He observed Wonbin tossing pieces of driftwood into the fire, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.
After a moment, Wonbin settled down beside Sohee, careful to maintain a respectful distance. Wonbin couldn’t shake the uncertainty that bothered him, an internal battle raging as he contemplated what might happen if he dared to sit just a little closer to Sohee tonight.
The mere thought of a brief touch, of feeling Sohee’s breath against his skin, sent shivers down his spine and sent him spiraling into a whirlwind of emotions. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady his racing heart.
In that moment, the world around him faded, leaving only the crackling fire and the soft rhythm of Sohee's breathing, both soothing and intoxicating.
“Do you ever think about the future?”
Sohee’s sudden voice startled Wonbin out of his reverie, pulling him out of the depths of his thoughts.
“What would it be like once this year’s summer is over?”
Wonbin hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly, “Sometimes. It’s hard not to,” he shifted slightly, “But I try not to think about it too much. I like living in the moment so…”
Sohee nodded, feeling a sudden pang of pain in his chest. He wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as possible, but the looming reality of their impending separation loomed over him.
“I guess I just don’t want this to end,” Sohee admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking it too loudly would make it true.
Wonbin glanced at him, the truth of those words settling between them like a heavy weight. The thought of saying goodbye felt unbearable, and he wished for a way to keep this summer alive, to trap it in amber where they could revisit it whenever they wanted.
Nobody spoke after that. The crackling of fire plus the occasional crash of the waves were the only sounds breaking the stillness.
Sohee turned his gaze to the flame, eyes staring blankly at the intense light, but his thoughts were far from bright. A heaviness settled in his heart, a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting nature of summer.
“I’m leaving soon,” Sohee said quietly, his voice barely audible, “Summer is just halfway over but… I have to fix my papers for university, for my new apartment… yeah.”
Wonbin felt a knot form in his stomach. He’d known this moment would come, yet hearing Sohee voice it out made the reality feel crushing.
“Oh… right…” he replied, forcing casualness in his tone, but the panic rising inside him felt insurmountable. Sohee turned to him, searching his face for understanding, “I wish I could stay longer. I wish…” His voice trailed off, and vulnerability flickered in his eyes, piercing through Wonbin like a shard of glass.
“I wish I could spend my birthday here.”
The weight of that wish hung in the air, and Wonbin felt his heart shatter at the thought.
A surge of emotion twisted within him, a mix of longing and despair. He had already been considering not showing up tomorrow if Sohee decided to meet up again, but now, this was his birthday they were talking about—the day that should be filled with laughter and joy, not overshadowed by unsaid goodbyes.
“I’ll only be able to spend my birthday here in advance… so that’s tomorrow…‘cause well… I have to leave on the day of my birthday… y’know, family shit,” Sohee added sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe we could celebrate then? Just… the two of us.”
Wonbin felt a wave of guilt crash over him, the urgency of the situation eating him up.
He wanted to shout a loud yes, to promise him a day filled with laughter, fun, and the kind of joy that only friendship—no, something deeper —could bring. But the reality of their situation was a cruel reminder that he could not.
The past few days have been a whirlwind of emotions, a beautiful chaos that had turned his world upside down, and now it was all about to slip away.
Sohee, I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore .
“Yeah,” he said at last, contrasting the thought he had prior to speaking up, “Let’s celebrate it together,” the last word was forced out slower than he intended, his voice strained.
Sohee’s face lit up, his excitement shown throughout his expression, but Wonbin just felt extremely guilty. The warmth radiating from Sohee was intoxicating, and every fiber of his being screamed at him to embrace it, to let go of the walls he’d carefully constructed.
Yet the rational part of his mind fought back fiercely.
He couldn’t do that to Sohee—not when he was on the brink of departure, not when it meant risking everything for a fleeting connection that felt too real to be just a summer fling.
“I can’t believe it! I’ll make it special for the both of us! I promise!” Sohee exclaimed, his enthusiasm wrapping around Wonbin like a warm blanket.
But as Sohee’s joy enveloped him, Wonbin felt that icy grip of dread constrict his heart.
He was going to leave Sohee too, and he wouldn’t be back.
Not ever .
He could already imagine the ache of separation, the silence—the void—that would replace Sohee’s laughter once he was gone.
“Are you sure you wanna celebrate it with me?” Wonbin asked, his voice softer now, tinged with the vulnerability he hadn’t intended to reveal.
Sohee turned serious, a shadow passing over his features, “Of course, hyung. I want to be with you on my birthday. I want…” His voice faltered, and for a moment, he hesitated, “I want to explore this,” he said finally, gesturing between them, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions hanging in the balance.
Wonbin’s heart raced at that admission. He wanted it too.
So fucking bad .
The potential of something beautiful blooming between them filled his heart but the fear of the unknown loomed larger.
How could he explain his reasons?
How could he admit that the very thing that brought them together was also the reason he had to push Sohee away?
“I don’t want this to end, hyung,” Sohee confessed, his voice breaking slightly as he struggled to contain his emotions, “Not after you’ve made this summer the best time of my life.”
Each word echoed in Wonbin’s heart, breaking it a little more. He wanted to reach out, to pull Sohee close and promise him the world, but the truth was heavier than he could bear.
The reality was that he wouldn’t be able to hold Sohee’s hand in the days to come—he wouldn’t be there to share in his laughter or comfort him when the world felt too overwhelming.
The thought sent a sharp pain through Wonbin’s heart, and he fought against the urge to reach out, to pull Sohee close and tell him that everything would be okay.
But how could he promise something he couldn’t deliver?
Sohee looked at him, eyes shining with unfiltered hope, “I’m excited for tomorrow, hyung,” he said, his voice brightening with every word, “It’s going to be amazing. Just the two of us, celebrating my birthday!”
“Yeah,” Wonbin forced a smile, but the weight of the unspoken truth bore down on him, “It’ll be special.”
A silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.
Sohee’s laughter faded, replaced by the sound of waves crashing on the shore. In that moment, Wonbin felt like the world was closing in on him.
Each second was a reminder of what he would lose.
“What if we made a list of all the things we want to do tomorrow?” Sohee suggested, his voice filled with enthusiasm, “I want to make it memorable!” Wonbin swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat and forcing his own excitement to the surface, “Sounds great to me.”
“What about going to that ice cream shop we came across the other day?” Sohee asked, glancing over his shoulder with a grin that lit up his face, “Or or! Maybe we could watch the sunrise together?”
A soft smile crept onto Wonbin’s lips, the mention of ice cream sparking a warm memory from the past days, “Yeah, we could do that.”
“Okay! And let’s add some sort of game. Like… I don’t know, a shell hunt?” Sohee’s laughter was contagious, and Wonbin couldn’t help but chuckle, even as the weight in his chest pressed harder.
“Whatever you want, Sohee,” Wonbin replied, his heart aching at the thought of how much he wanted to be part of his future. He pictured Sohee at university, surrounded by new friends and new experiences, and felt an emptiness settle in.
“Hyung?” Sohee’s voice brought him back, his expression shifting to something more serious. “You’re going to come, right? You’ll be there tomorrow?”
Wonbin hesitated. “I—”
“I know it’s going to be a little bittersweet,” Sohee interjected, sensing the change in Wonbin’s demeanor. “But I want to make it special. I want to remember this summer forever.”
The plea in Sohee’s eyes shattered Wonbin’s resolve. He could see all the dreams and hopes wrapped in those words, and it twisted the knife of reality deeper into his heart. “Of course I’ll be there,” he said finally, his voice a mere whisper.
“Promise?”
“Promise."
The assurance felt like a lie on his tongue, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to ruin Sohee’s joy.
Sohee shifted closer, the warmth of his body mixing with the heat of the fire, and Wonbin’s heart raced at the closeness. He felt the urge to pull him into an embrace, to hold on for dear life. But he kept his distance, every inch feeling like an insurmountable barrier.
“What are you thinking about?” Sohee asked, tilting his head to meet Wonbin’s gaze. “Just… how lucky I am to have spent this summer with you,” Wonbin replied, his voice low.
Sohee’s face lit up, a bright smile breaking across his features. “Me too, hyung. This has been the best summer of my life.”
Those words sent a fresh wave of pain through Wonbin. He wished he could tell Sohee that he felt the same, that he wanted to be a part of every moment that lay ahead of him. But i nstead, he had to carry this burden alone.
As the fire began to die down, Sohee leaned back, stretching out on the sand, looking up at the stars. “You think we’ll be able to see these stars tomorrow? You know, after all the celebrations?”
Wonbin watched him, his heart heavy. “I hope so. I really do.”
“Then I’ll make a wish,” Sohee said, eyes sparkling. “I’ll wish to see the stars with hyung tomorrow and for this summer to never end.”
Wonbin’s breath caught in his throat, and he turned his gaze away, the raw honesty of Sohee’s words cutting deep, “I wish I could give you the latter.”
“Don’t worry about it, hyung,” Sohee said cheerfully, “Tomorrow will be perfect. I promise!”
As the night wore on, Sohee’s laughter echoed like music in the air, filling Wonbin’s heart with warmth yet leaving him colder than ever. He was losing the person who made this summer the most unforgettable time of his life—and it will be all because of him.
Finally, as the fire flickered down to embers, Wonbin knew he had to say something. He had to let Sohee know how much he meant to him, even if the words were not enough.
“Hey, Sohee?” he started, his voice trembling.
“Yeah?” Sohee replied, turning to him, his expression softening.
“Whatever happens, I want you to remember this summer. Remember us. You’re going to do amazing things, and I’ll always be cheering for you, even if I’m not there.”
Sohee’s eyes widened, and for a moment, the joy flickering in them dimmed, “What do you mean?”
Wonbin took a deep breath, forcing the words out through the pain that threatened to choke him. “Just… promise me you’ll be happy. No matter what.” Sohee searched his face, confusion shadowing his features, “Of course, but why are you saying this? You’ll be there tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, tomorrow.” Wonbin swallowed hard, the ache in his throat making it difficult to continue, “I just… I want you to know how special you are to me.”
A moment of silence passed between them.
Sohee opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, he smiled, as if Wonbin had reassured him that everything would be okay.
“Thank you, hyung,” he said softly, his gaze penetrating as he held Wonbin’s eyes, “You’ve changed my life.” Wonbin’s heart squeezed painfully as he forced out a smile, realizing the gravity of what he was about to lose.
As the last embers of the fire faded into the night, Wonbin took a moment to breathe in Sohee’s scent.
It felt like home, a home he had to leave behind.
“Goodnight, Sohee,” he murmured, his voice heavy with unshed tears.
“Goodnight, hyung,” Sohee replied, a bright smile lighting up his face again, “I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
With that, Wonbin turned away, the tears finally spilling down his cheeks as he faced the ocean, the waves crashing against the shore echoing his heartache. He watched the moon reflecting on the water, feeling the full weight of his decision.
Tomorrow was meant to be a celebration filled with fun and laughter, but the thought of leaving Sohee alone twisted like a knife in his chest.
He knew he should be the one by Sohee’s side, but instead, he was retreating. He was running from a truth he could no longer ignore.
Meanwhile, Sohee plopped on the bed of his room at the lodging house, feeling nothing but warmth as he replayed their conversation in his mind.
Tomorrow is gonna be perfect.
He could picture everything—the laughter, the banter, the games, and how Wonbin would try to win at every game.
“I’ll make it special,” he whispered to himself, smiling at the idea. He couldn’t wait to surprise him with all the little things he planned in his head, “Just you wait, hyung,” he promised, filled with anticipation and giddiness. He turned to his side, feeling a flutter in his chest at the thought of how lucky he was to share this summer with Wonbin.
Nothing could compare to the bond they had forged.
But as sleep slowly claimed him, a tiny whisper of doubt fitted through his mind.
What if Wonbin didn’t show up?
As the hours pass, sleep evaded Wonbin,
He lay on his bed, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, a haunting reminder of what he was about to sacrifice.
He had never intended for things to turn out this way. He wanted to be with Sohee, to hold his hand, to embrace the connection that had blossomed between them.
But the truth was heavy. He just couldn’t let himself feel for the younger male anymore. What he felt for Sohee was different, and he was terrified to explore it. Experimenting with his emotions was a risk he couldn’t take. He couldn’t put Sohee through that confusion—that heartache.
“I can’t do this to you,” he whispered into the stillness of the night.
It hurt to think about leaving Sohee alone, unaware of the void that would follow. But inevitably, tomorrow would end in a painful goodbye that neither of them could foresee.
He imagined Sohee, hopefully waiting for him to show up tomorrow.
Could he really let go of this summer?
The weight of his decision pressed down on him like a burden he couldn’t shake. The idea of Sohee spending his birthday alone made his heart clench, but he knew this was for the best.
I won’t be there. I have to let you go, Sohee.
The next day dawned bright and warm, casuing a golden light over the beach. Sohee stirred awake early, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore invigorating him.
Today was his birthday celebration—an advanced celebration, sure, but it was still a day meant for joy.
He jumped out of bed, feeling energized as he stretched, the excitement bubbling in his chest like the sea foam outside his window. He dressed quickly, choosing a light yellow summer shirt that brought out the brightness in his eyes.
After breakfast, he went into the kitchen, humming to himself as he whipped up some snacks, determined to make the evening unforgettable.
Every detail mattered—he wanted to create a memory that would last long after the summer ended.
So Sohee spent the day preparing with giddy anticipation. He decorated the small table he had set up by the beach, draping it with a colorful cloth, arranging the snacks he had prepared, and placing a small cake at the center.
“This is going to be perfect,” he whispered, his heart swelling at the thought of celebrating with Wonbin.
In his mind, it was a day for laughter and connection, where everything would fall into place.
By the time the clock struck six in the afternoon, Sohee had dolled himself up a bit more, applying a touch of lip balm and combing through his hair. He adjusted his shirt, checking his reflection in the mirror one last time.
He looked good—confident, even. Stepping outside the lodging house, he felt the warmth of the sun hanging low in the sky.
He could already picture Wonbin’s face lighting up when he saw everything, the surprise and joy reflected in his eyes. The anticipation bubbled inside him, fueling his excitement as he imagined their perfect celebration.
But as the minutes passed, that initial excitement began to dull into anxious waiting.
Sohee paced back and forth, glancing at the path leading from the shore to his setup, “Maybe he’s just running late,” he told himself, trying to shake off the unease creeping into his heart.
“He’ll be here soon. He wouldn’t miss this.”
Right?
With each passing moment, however, the sun sank lower, casting long shadows that stretched across the sand, and Sohee’s hope flickered like the fading light.
The air grew cooler as the night approached, the stars beginning to peek out one by one, their twinkling distant and indifferent. “He’ll be here,” he reassured himself, willing his thoughts to focus on the happy moments to come, envisioning the smiles and laughter they would share.
But deep down, a nagging voice whispered that Wonbin wouldn’t come.
Unbeknownst to Sohee, Wonbin was watching from afar, standing at the edge of their beach house, all covered up and heart heavy with regret. He felt the weight of his decision pressing down on him, the effect of what he had chosen clawing him internally. Biting hard on his lip, he fought against the tears threatening to spill again.
He watched Sohee, his heart aching at the sight of him waiting, so full of hope. The table was set, the cake sat untouched, and the smile Sohee radiated was painful to look at.
Each passing second felt like a dagger, piercing him with the knowledge that he was the one denying Sohee this moment.
And as the stars finally emerged, Sohee stood gazing up, searching the night sky for the familiar constellations. He had mentioned yesterday wanting to share this moment with Wonbin tonight, to lay back on the sand and watch the stars together.
This gave Sohee a bit more hope. And so he waited.
“Just wait a little longer,” he murmured to the stars, his voice barely rising above the gentle wind, which carried his words away into the night. But deep down, a pit of worry churned in his stomach, eating at his excitement.
Where was Wonbin?
Hours passed, the soft glow of the candles flickering in the evening breeze, each flicker mirroring the wavering hope in his heart. The laughter he had envisioned hung heavy in the air, replaced by a growing silence that felt increasingly oppressive.
Sohee’s heart sank as the reality of the night settled in—each tick of the clock reminding him that he was waiting for someone who might not come.
The cake stood there, a testament to his anticipation, every detail carefully prepared for this moment.
Yet, as time stretched on, there was still no sign of Wonbin.
“Well, maybe something happened… Can’t be helped, I guess,” Sohee murmured to himself, a weak chuckle escaping his lips. He tried to push away the growing ache in his chest, ignoring the quiet knocking of dread that seemed to grow louder with each passing minute.
The beach, which had felt so full of promise hours earlier, was now unbearably still.
His eyes darted toward the horizon, scanning for any sign of movement, any sign of him. But it was just the sea, the gentle lapping of waves at the shore, as if mocking his optimism.
Sohee fell silent. His fingers curled into his palms as the truth began to settle. The excitement, the hope—everything was starting to unravel.
After a few long moments, he took a deep breath, the weight of the moment crashing over him in waves. Alone, he bent over the cake, the candles flickering brightly, full of wishes that now felt pointless. With a shaky breath, he blew them out.
He stood there, staring at the cake, forcing himself to clap softly, to somehow acknowledge the day, his birthday.
“Happy 19th to me,” he whispered, voice barely audible. But as much as he tried, the joy he’d tried to muster crumbled.
Tears welled in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks before he could stop them, bittersweet and heavy. The loneliness, the disappointment—it was too much to hold back.
The night that was meant to be filled with joy and companionship had turned into a quiet, painful reminder of how fragile hope could be. He hugged himself, his sobs quiet.
It wasn’t just about Wonbin not being there. It was about feeling like he wasn’t enough, that somehow, something had gone wrong, and he was left to pick up the pieces.
From his hidden spot, Wonbin watched, heartbroken as he saw the tears streaming down Sohee’s face. “I’m so sorry I had to fulfill your wish this way, Sohee,” he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the rhythmic crashing of the waves.
The sting of his own tears fell silently down his cheeks. The pain of his decision echoed in the void where joy once lived, a reminder of what he had chosen to sacrifice.
After a long moment, Sohee turned away from the beach, the cake still untouched, the candles’ smoke flowing up into the night like fading dreams.
The celebration he had so eagerly anticipated was now a hollow shell of what it could have been, a celebration turned into mourning for the love he longed to share.
Sohee knew he couldn’t stay here another night. It was too painful to wait any longer for a person who wouldn’t come, someone who had filled the air with laughter and warmth during his entire stay here.
Sohee made the decision to head home, the ache in his chest amplifying with every step away from the beach. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of his unfulfilled hopes clung to him like the sand on his skin, gritty and suffocating.
He wanted to call out to Wonbin, to share one last laugh or a lingering touch, but the reality of the night pressed down on him.
This was it.
He was leaving behind everything they had shared, the connection that had felt so effortless yet was now painfully out of reach.
As Sohee walked away, he glanced back one last time, wishing desperately to see Wonbin’s silhouette against the fading light.
But the beach was just dark and empty. With each step, the memories flooded back, scenes of shared smiles and unspoken feelings under the stars.
For Wonbin, the pain of his choice was almost unbearable, a weight that pressed down on his soul. Leaving Sohee alone was a decision steeped in heartache, and he would carry that burden with him always.
The tears streaming down his face were not just for the moments lost but for the future that would never be.
As the stars twinkled in the sky, their distant light felt mocking to Wonbin, revealing the vast emptiness he now faced. His heart ached with the knowledge that he had given up the one person who truly saw him for who he is, who made him feel understood, accepted.
He stood there, tears blurring his vision, wondering if he would ever see Sohee again, if their paths would cross in the future when he becomes more open-minded, hopefully.
But for now, there was only silence, an empty beach, and the aching knowledge that some goodbyes might last a lifetime, reverberating through the heart long after they were spoken.
Would they cross paths in the future?
Would he have the courage to face his feelings then?
Only time will tell.