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It was the first day of August. The sun hid behind thick clouds, casting a heavy gloom over the sky. Rain clung to the air, ready to fall. Jeonghan glanced through the window, the warm tea his spectacled friend had made slowly cooling in his hands.
Wonwoo adjusted his rimmed glasses as he followed his older friend’s line of sight. It was surely gloomy for the first day of spring, and the mere thought brought a subtle ache within the depths of his heart. In just a few days, it would be his 14th birthday, and Wonwoo could only let out a sigh. The noise was soft enough to be unnoticeable, but Jeonghan heard it regardless. He tore his gaze away from the daisies in the yard and soundlessly examined the younger man in front of him, still preoccupied with the now-pouring rain.
Wonwoo’s eyes were sunken, dark circles framing them like bruises. Jeonghan wondered if the sleeping pills he’d recommended had lost their effect. Wonwoo looked pale, almost sickly, his skin untouched by sunlight. His cheeks had hollowed, his cheekbones sharper than the last time they met, just weeks ago.
Jeonghan clenched his fist, his face blank, but his anger simmered beneath the surface as he scanned the mansion Wonwoo shared with his husband.
The house was vast—a dream compared to Jeonghan’s cramped two-bedroom apartment. But at least his home was a home, a place of comfort and solace. This mansion however big, loomed like a fortress, its halls heavy with quiet despair. Once, it might have been a home, but now it felt like a tomb. Even the pool outside—untouched for many years—was pristine, as if waiting for something that would never come.
In the middle of it all stood Wonwoo—alive, but just barely.
Imprisoned within the walls of the decaying home.
“Why don’t you just divorce him, Wons?” Jeonghan asked, breaking the heavy silence. He noticed the subtle flinch that crossed Wonwoo's face at the mention of divorce. Gently placing his teacup on the knitted saucer, he watched his friend, concerned etched on his features.
“Look at yourself, Wons. It’s like you’re not even married. He’s never around. You’re just… here. Existing in this house like a ghost.” The last phrase said almost inaudible, barely above a whisper but Wonwoo heard it regardless. Jeonghan awaited a response, which he never got.
Silence hung between them, the whirring of the washing machine and the simmering of the beef stew in the kitchen can be heard in the background. Wonwoo looked up from the ground and met Jeonghan’s hazel-brown eyes. There were familiar emotions brewing within them—concern, confusion, frustration—emphasised by his frown.
“Because- ” Wonwoo’s voice cracked, the tremor in his hands now prominent. His throat constricted as he let out a shaky breath. The words all dying on his tongue.
" Wonwoo. " Jeonghan called out softly. The younger looked back at him, his eyes had a familiar gloss in it. His heart broke. How can the Jeon Wonwoo everyone used to look up to look so frail and unsure? " You don't deserve this. " Wonwoo averted his gaze. “ After what I did—" He bit his lower lip enough to draw out blood. The metallic taste coating his tongue as he choked the words out. " After I killed our child—this is what I owe him. "
“ Wonwoo, love, you know it's not your fault, “ Jeonghan inched forward, attempting to reach for Wonwoo’s shaky hands but the younger turned away, tucking them under the table, away from him. Jeonghan slumped against his chair, defeated.
“It is, Han. “ He paused, the weight of his guilt hanging between them. “I killed our baby. And Mingyu…” Wonwoo’s voice cracked. “I’ll never forgive myself, hyung.”
Wonwoo tried to blink away the tears but it kept falling, cascading down his reddened nose to his chin. " And he shouldn't too. " Jeonghan watched the onslaught of tears but heard not a single whimper or sniffle from the man. Years of screaming matches and cold shoulders had taught Wonwoo the art of silence. He moved like a ghost through his own life, blending into the wallpaper, quietly enduring sleepless nights and tear-stained pillows. And it’s alright, he's told himself frequently enough. He’d grown accustomed to being invisible in his own marriage anyway. Jeonghan sighed for what seems to be the millionth time today; this place was just as shitty as their hometown.
The washing machine rumbled to a stop, followed by the faint clatter of utensils in the kitchen. The house settled into a tense quiet, the kind that always seemed to return, no matter how many times the air filled with noise.
Wonwoo grabbed a handful of tissues and gently wiped away his tears. Jeonghan stared at the broken man, taking in his delicate features that were now permanently tainted with sadness and despair.
“Don’t do that, hyung,” Wonwoo said.
“Do what?” Jeonghan asked, slightly startled and confused.
“Pity me.”
“Hey, I’m not pitying you. I just—” Jeonghan argued back, almost defensively.
“ See, you’re doing it again." Wonwoo replied, exasperated. " Stop looking at me like that. Like I’m some kind of charity case you can’t help but take in under your wing.”
He chastised, frowning at him before continuing. “ You sound just like my therapist, and it’s pathetic. Makes me feel like a specimen on a lab table.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that—”
“It's fine. " Wonwoo interjected, holding his right hand up dismissively. He stood up, and grabbed Jeonghan by the wrist to help him up. " Let’s just eat. " " Oh I'm sure you'll like it! The beef's so good.I’ll ask Jihan to pack some for Sunoo as well. " Wonwoo exclaimed enthusiastically, practically dragging the older man to the dining room. " It’s imported from New Zealand, a gift from one of Mingyu’s business partners.”
“Well, at least Mingyu contributes something to the household.”
Wonwoo gave him a pointed look, obviously unamused by the sarcastic remark. Jeonghan held both his hands up, “Fine, you win. I’ll shut up now before I end up eating sorrow instead of Mingyu's premium beef stew.”
“I swear to God, hyung.” Wonwoo rolled his eyes in faux annoyance but ended up smiling fondly as Jeonghan burst out laughing.The moment felt like an old photograph—frayed at the edges, yet precious, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that lingered around them.
They were almost done eating when the front door opened. Jihan hurriedly left the unwashed dishes in the sink as she greeted the two men in business suits making their way to the hall connecting the kitchen and the massive living room. Wonwoo stopped eating immediately, carefully cleaned his plate, and neatly placed it in the sink. Jeonghan watched him wordlessly as he gracefully washed his hands, tied his shoulder-length hair into a bun, and fixed his glasses.
Wonwoo glanced at Jeonghan, his face softening for just a moment, a silent plea passing between them. He quickly looked away as the door swung open, and Mingyu stepped inside, breaking whatever fragile peace they had shared.
“Hi, welcome home. How was your meeting ? “ Wonwoo asked, albeit awkwardly, both his hands playing with the hem of his sweatshirt.
“ Good,” Mingyu answered, nodding to Jeonghan and walking past Wonwoo to grab himself a can of beer from the fridge. Wonwoo glanced at him briefly before acknowledging the other man with a smile.
“Long time no see, hyung.”Wonwoo greeted the man.
“Long time indeed, Wonwoo. ”
The sound of the man's voice froze Jeonghan in place. It was deep, steady, and it hit him in a way it shouldn’t after all these years. Slowly, Jeonghan turned to meet Seungcheol’s gaze, the air thick between them. It had been a few months since they last met.
Seungcheol’s gaze lingered on him, expectantly. Despite himself, Jeonghan’s eyes met his, and he felt the familiar pull—one he thought he’d left behind long ago.
“ Jeonghan, too. It's been a while. “ Seungcheol greeted him, offering a smile. Jeonghan stiffened, his chest thumping wildly. Almost two decades later and the man still has the same effect on him as when they were in college.
“Seungcheol… Hi.” Jeonghan tried for a casual tone, but his voice wavered. “How’ve you been?”
“Good. How are you?” the older man once again asked as Wonwoo observed them both.
Jeonghan squirmed in his seat, hoping the ground to swallow him whole.
“Okay,” Jeonghan sheepishly smiled, dragging Wonwoo to sit beside him. The younger man groaned as his bottom hit the chair.
An uncomfortable tension settled in the kitchen as Seungcheol took a seat at the table, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Wonwoo watches as Jeonghan dug his nails into his jeans, feigning nonchalance as the other man stares him down while drinking.
“So... when are you two making a move, or are you simply content with eyeing each other at every opportunity?” Mingyu’s voice echoed as he leaned on the countertop, a sly smirk pointed towards Seungcheol. Jeonghan’s fist itched to wipe it out.
“Mingyu—” Seungcheol started but was immediately cut off by Jeonghan.
“Maybe when you finally get the guts to divorce my friend,” Jeonghan shot back, his voice low, laced with barely contained anger. “So he can move on to someone who actually deserves him.”
Mingyu didn’t flinch, only smirked—unbothered. He chugged down the full can of beer before tossing it in the trash. “Shouldn’t you be asking him that, not me, hyung?”
That smirk sent a fresh wave of rage through him. “Son of a bitch-” The audacity of Mingyu tightening every muscle in his body.
“ Aren’t you leaving now?” Wonwoo interrupted, squeezing his clenched fist, “Hyung you said Sunoo is waiting for you, right?”
There was no “please” in the sentence, but Jeonghan heard it anyway—the silent plea for him to stop, to avoid starting another argument.
He fought the urge to stand, to do something reckless, and instead settled on just throwing Mingyu a glare.
He’s always had a soft spot for Wonwoo, his introverted, spectacled, cat-like baby brother—the one person he could never say no to.
" Fine. " Jeonghan stood up, and grabbed his bag along with the huge Tupperware that Wonwoo had prepared earlier for Sunoo.
"I'll walk you to the door, hyung." Wonwoo presented, lacing his hands with his hyung; a grateful smile pointed towards his older friend. Jeonghan slightly nod, squeezing back his hand in response. They were just about to leave the kitchen when Seungcheol suddenly called out to Jeonghan.
"Can you tell Sunoo I said hello? " Seungcheol requested, seemingly reluctant to continue. " And... that I've sent him money in his account; he hasn’t touched it."
There was silence as Jeonghan watched his ex-lover, the usually confident man now fidgety and unsure at the mere mention of Sunoo. Mingyu grabbed himself another can of beer, obviously unaffected by the scene.
"You have his number, don't you? " Jeonghan asked, an eyebrow slightly raised as he paused. " You also have his socials. Why don’t you just ask him and tell him that yourself?"
“But—”
“He’ll answer.” Jeonghan interjected, voice steady and firm, effectively shutting down Seungcheol's objections. " He can’t stay mad at you, you know. He’s your son.”
Seungcheol nodded, his brow furrowing, but Jeonghan left it there. There was no point in pushing further.
The duo turned away and walked in silence to the door, where the Uber Wonwoo had arranged was waiting.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Jeonghan muttered just as the vehicle came to view. Wonwoo always do this, even without being asked. Jeonghan unlaced their hands, Wonwoo glanced at him
“I wanted to, hyung.” Wonwoo explained.
“I’m not broke, you know.” Jeonghan replied almost immediately, tone sharper than he intended.
“I know.” Wonwoo’s tone was soft, steady as he assured the man. “But even if you had all the money in the world, you’d still choose to commute unless someone forced an Uber on you." "Now go home. " Wonwoo nagged playfully, pushing Jeonghan out the door. " Sunoo’s waiting for you at home.”
Jeonghan paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, alright. I’m going.”
He had barely turned to leave when Wonwoo’s voice came again, quieter this time. “Hyung... I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”
Jeonghan smiled, but his knuckles clenched in his pockets, fingers digging into his palms until they ached. His rage sat just beneath the surface, buried behind the familiar smile he wore like armour.