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“I’ll teach you.”
It’s a promise he remembers from multiple points in their lives. Sunwoo would offer, and Changmin would pretend to accept, just to humour him. He’d never thought Sunwoo would take it so seriously. But here they are, years later, his hands in familiar grasp, and his stance under watchful eye.
“Foot’s angled wrong, baby.”
Changmin tries to push him, but it results in him wobbling. He’s lucky Sunwoo keeps his grip, stopping the board with his own foot.
“Don’t… call me that,” Changmin mumbles. “We’re too old for those jokes, Sunwoo.”
Sunwoo laughs at that. “What? Never too old to be someone’s baby. Also you’re just twenty six.”
Changmin doesn’t really know what to say to that. He feels ridiculous, in fact—the past few years have aged him, drained him immensely and he’s sure the occasional ache in his bones is a sign of that. The digits on his last birthday cake looked a little too serious of a number. The things that weigh on him are too heavy as of late.
But he’s out here with his best friend, hands joined, his foot on a skateboard. Sunwoo had even given him knee-pads. He looks like a child right now and he thinks this is all so silly. There’s a middle-schooler in the distance who kicks off effortlessly, disappearing from his view.
Changmin’s other foot stays stuck on concrete ground.
“Stop thinking for a moment,” Sunwoo advises, like he can see through him. “Just… focus on trying to find balance on the board.”
“I’ll fall.”
“I won’t let go. You know I won’t.”
Changmin almost laughs at him for how serious he sounds, but he finds that the words reassure him just a tad.
“Promise?” he asks instead.
There is a squeeze to his hands. “Promise.”
..…….. pause ……....
⇄ |◁ ▶ ▷| ♡
A promise is his new neighbour’s first attempt at befriending Changmin. Sunwoo is even smaller than him. What is he—like, nine? That’s what his sister had said, before nudging him to say hello.
“You’re a hyung now,” she had told him, patting his head. “You have to look out for him.”
His eyes are bright, and his cheeks are still chubby and rosy. This is a baby in Changmin’s eyes.
And really, what would a baby know about the dangers of this? Changmin has seen the older kids who go to the skate parks after school. They’re always covered in bandaids, even though they’re bigger and stronger than either of them.
“You might fall,” Changmin tells him. He nods to himself, pleased. Silly Sunwoo, what was he thinking? At least someone’s warned him now.
But Sunwoo just frowns in confusion. “Then you can try again.”
When Changmin doesn’t seem convinced, the other smiles wide. Changmin can see his canines growing back in.
“I can teach you!” Sunwoo declares. He holds out the colourful board, all excitement and shining eyes.
Changmin could never trust a kid with his life like that. He wrinkles his nose, and then remembers his mother’s reminders to be polite to the new boy. He sighs. “No, thank you.”
Sunwoo pouts, retracting the board. “One day, I will.”
“No way.”
“Yes way! We can try on the pavement.”
“It’s dangerous.”
Sunwoo’s big, chocolatey eyes blink in thought. “If you get scared, I can hold your hand.”
Changmin panics. He can’t let a fourth grader sense his fear. He only just became a hyung. He needs to be someone his new friend can look up to, not the opposite.
“No, you just can’t teach me! You’re so… small. Your board will be too small for… for hyung.”
At this, Sunwoo hugs his board like Changmin had insulted it. “When I’m bigger, and I get a bigger board, I will then.”
Changmin purses his lips. “Sure.”
Sunwoo holds out his pinky and Changmin decides it wouldn’t hurt to link it with his. Sunwoo is a kid, and he’ll forget this in the next five minutes.
“I promise!” Sunwoo says, nodding earnestly.
He doesn’t think much of it.
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⇄ |◁ II ▷| ♡
“I thought you wanted to learn.”
Wheels roll into his view, a familiar boot stopping them right in front of him. The board is a modest black, much less flashy than the salmon pink one Sunwoo used to lug around in his younger years, but there’s a tiny cherry-shaped print just above where his other foot sits—it makes him smile a bit at how some things never change. Changmin looks up to find Sunwoo watching him fondly. Strangely, it makes him feel small, although not without some warmth.
“I am learning,” Changmin insists, sticking his foot out to tap the front of Sunwoo’s board. “Watching the master at work.”
He gets a laugh in return.
“If you wanted to just sit around, we could’ve gone somewhere else, hyung. Like the beach or something.” His tone may tease, but Sunwoo’s smile is gentle when it emerges. “You didn’t come back all the way here to watch me skate.”
He knows what Sunwoo really means. All the unsaid and unasked things that hang around them in the night breeze. About where he was all of last year, and why he’s suddenly back in Korea when it’s mid-June, and most of all, how he’s been. There’s concern in his eyes that Changmin feels guilty for causing. He has been meaning to call, just like the million other things he has been meaning to do, until it all got too much and the ticking clock is all he could hear.
But perhaps Sunwoo is right, and he did just want a moment to sit around. Maybe he needed a moment, for everything to slow down.
“I like watching you skate.”
Sunwoo hums in thought. The lights overhead wash him in orange, and for a second, Changmin is taken back to a simpler time.
“Yeah,” Sunwoo agrees, readying his foot to push off the ground again. “Yeah, you always have.”
..…….. pause ……....
⇄ |◁ ▶ ▷| ♡
“When are you going to skate with me?”
A shadow falls over his sketchbook, and Changmin slams it shut, immediately grabbing the packet of snacks next to him instead. He doesn’t even care that it’s unopened and it makes him look all the more suspicious. The embarrassment of Sunwoo seeing anything he had drawn would probably make Changmin explode.
“I wanna see!” Sunwoo whines, dropping down next to him. The puppy eyes he puts on are gleaming, almost rivalling the sun’s glare on his new helmet, vibrant and red. It matches the red of Changmin’s bucket hat. “I even showed you a trick today. C’mon c’mon c’mon —”
Changmin knocks on the helmet and pushes him away. “You’re so annoying. I can’t wait to start high school next year and leave you behind.”
Sunwoo tries to reach for his book again and frowns when Changmin swats his hands away. “You’re so mean. I hope they bully you in high school.”
Changmin scoffs. “I hope they bully you when I leave middle school.”
Sunwoo sticks his tongue out. His expression brightens at the crackling of the packet as Changmin rips it open. When Changmin pops a corn puff into his mouth, Sunwoo leans forward, blinking at him expectantly. Reluctantly, Changmin holds one up to his lips.
“You big baby,” Changmin sighs, when Sunwoo simply opens up again for another one. “We can’t do this in high school, by the way. Only couples do this.”
“Says who?”
“My sister does this with her boyfriend.”
Sunwoo grins, big and mischievous. “Then I can be your boyfriend in high school, problem solved.”
Changmin pauses at that, and then shakes his head. What does Sunwoo know about boyfriends? He’s thirteen and stupid. Changmin still feeds him snacks and pastes colourful bandaids on his scraped knees. Still… he doesn’t know what he’s going to do without Sunwoo. Changmin doesn’t have many other friends, and he doesn’t think any of them are going to the same school next year.
“I’ll show you the drawing,” he relents, and the other claps his hands, thrilled. His skating gear is abandoned for now, their heads pressed together as they crowd over the book.
He’s nervous, but Sunwoo marvels at it noisily. In awe of the bright cherry reds and warm caramels. Changmin waits for him to bring up the very obvious subject of the drawing, but he doesn’t. Sunwoo pouts instead, cheek squished against Changmin’s shoulder. He makes a sniffly sound, and Changmin can’t really bring himself to make fun of him. He’s been feeling the same as the holidays draw closer to an end.
“Please don’t get another best friend in high school. Even if they’re cooler than me.”
“... I won’t,” Changmin says, and then holds up his pinky. “I promise.”
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⇄ |◁ II ▷| ♡
The yellow of the hoop is exactly the same as he remembers, as is the blue of the court flooring. The only difference is that now, Sunwoo can hold the ball up out of his reach.
“You ass,” Changmin grumbles, kicking him in the shin. The ball slips out of his fingers right as Sunwoo tips over onto the ground.
“Me?” he groans, clutching his leg. “I’m not the one crippling the competition instead of trying to win.”
Changmin forgets the basketball, letting it bounce away on its own course. His brows knit on their own accord, hands finding Sunwoo’s leg. He didn’t think he’d hit him hard enough to hurt, but now Sunwoo’s eyes are screwed shut and Changmin feels guilt unfurling within.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t—”
He halts massaging Sunwoo’s leg when the other starts shaking. With laughter.
“Oh, Changmin,” he giggles, rolling over onto his back, trying to block out the sun with a hand. The shadow it casts over his face shouldn’t make him look like art. “You’re so cute. I’m just messing with you.”
Changmin huffs, shoving his leg away. The feeling overcoming his cheeks is unwelcome, and he’s so sure it manifests in visible pink. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
The grin he gets is still the same. Boyish and charming. The way it makes him feel is still the same.
“Chanhee would always tell you I was faking, but you’d never believe him. You’d think you’d learn your lesson by now.”
Changmin perks up at the familiar name, memories flooding back. And questions that he’s dying to ask. He chooses to divert from the thoughts.
“Well, I was a very concerned hyung , looking out for you. I thought you were in pain!”
“I know. I missed having your love all for myself, can’t you tell?”
The phrasing of it makes his heart do a funny little flip. Love —sure. If only Sunwoo knew. Changmin laughs softly, patting his leg. “You attention seeker.”
“Only when it’s you.”
Sunwoo’s smile has mellowed out into something less bright, but just as warm. It feels as warm as the inside of his cartwheeling heart. Changmin can only wonder what it means.
He chooses diversion, yet again, clearing his throat and looking over to where the ball has rolled. “How is Chanhee, anyway? Are you guys…?”
Changmin should know these things. But he’s hidden away from the world for the past year, wandered too deep into a dreary old cave with nothing much but his own thoughts.
“We didn’t last at all ,” Sunwoo laughs.
Changmin feels even worse at this revelation. He had been the one to beg Chanhee to go out with Sunwoo, after all. He hadn’t spoken much with either of them since, until his impromptu trip back home.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
Sunwoo waves a hand, and his expression doesn’t dull. “Don’t be. He and I are great friends.”
“Oh.”
And then when Sunwoo frowns, he expects some semblance of heartbreak to show up, but all that’s on his face is confusion. “Come to think of it, we didn’t even date much. But he’s been steady with Jaehyun for the past six months.”
Changmin blinks in surprise. How ironic it is that of all people, Jaehyun is finally his match.
..…….. pause ……....
⇄ |◁ ▶ ▷| ♡
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, break up with him.”
Jaehyun’s eyes are unreadable. Changmin regrets taking to the bench today to keep him company. He should’ve left Jaehyun and his twisted ankle to have fun on their own, instead of buying them both slushies that turn their tongues purple. But they’ve long established that Saturdays are for all things starting with B—the boys, boards and ball. Apparently now it includes break-ups and business that people don’t want to mind.
“Who are you to tell me this?” he bites, but he regrets it. Jaehyun may have a mischievous streak, but he’s never been one to hide his concern when it comes to any of them.
“Changmin-ah,” he says, a little gentler, reaching for his hand. “Chanhee says you seem faraway whenever you guys are alone. He’s confused because you did ask him out, but I think he’s putting pieces together. You need to stop before you hurt him—and yourself.”
Of course Chanhee knows. What was Changmin thinking, dating one of the smartest people he’s ever met?
“He’s worried you’re forcing yourself.”
“I—! I’m not. I like Chanhee.”
He gets a disapproving look. The setting sun paints Jaehyun in a light too angelic, soft tangerine glow on his edges. It makes Changmin feel like the worst person in the world.
“But not like that,” Jaehyun prompts, keeping his voice quiet. “Right?”
Changmin can’t answer, and that seems to be telling enough.
He dived into this hoping to bury his feelings for someone the complete opposite of Chanhee. And he was so sure he’d get there, he likes Chanhee enough to take a bullet for him. But it’s been a few weeks and he hasn’t felt a single thing reminiscent of what he feels around S—
“It’s okay if you’re not in love with him,” Jaehyun says, like the words don’t stab him directly in the gut. “But you’re not being fair to yourself, or to Chanhee.”
Changmin swallows something painful in his throat. He watches Chanhee flail around on the court, yelling out expletives as he tries to block the basketball aimed for the hoop. He’s so beautiful and so good to him, and Changmin should be in love with him. But then his eyes wander over to who’s holding the ball. The sky swirls in pinks and oranges behind him, and he’s bathed gold in sunset. And Changmin’s heart bursts open at the slightest glimpse of Sunwoo’s smile.
His lip trembles when he inhales. Jaehyun is squeezing his hand.
“He’ll appreciate my honesty, right?” Changmin asks, eyes stinging the more he accepts his truth. And then he’s being pulled into a hug, Jaehyun nodding. “Hyung, what if he hates me?”
“I don’t think he will.”
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⇄ |◁ II ▷| ♡
“What do you mean you’ve been staying at a hotel for the past two weeks?”
“Exactly that,” Changmin settles, not really meeting Sunwoo’s eyes. “So no, we can’t exactly go to my house.”
“Is that not expens—forget that. What about… your parents? Your sisters?”
Changmin hasn’t told his family that he’s back yet. Sunwoo takes in this information without any questions, but with a concerned stare and his arms wide open. Changmin fits into them, and it’s like stepping into sunsoaked honey—sweet and slow and warm. He presses his face into Sunwoo’s neck and it feels like coming home.
“You can stay at my place,” Sunwoo offers, arms secure around him like he’s worried Changmin will fly away. “I mean, I share with Chanhee, but he can keep a secret if you need him to. Especially if you ask.”
The mention of Chanhee again has him tensing up, but Sunwoo rubs his back. It eases the sudden spike of nerves, and Changmin lets himself melt into the comfort once more.
“Look at you, all grown up.”
The laughter that rumbles against him is soothing. “That’s right, I’m a man now. I have my own place.”
“That you share with your ex. You guys are still friends?”
Sunwoo’s laugh is a breathless little thing, somewhat in disbelief. But he doesn’t let go. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? He’s your ex, too. And still one of your closest friends.”
Alright, he walked right into that one. But nothing that Sunwoo said is untrue.
“He’s barely an ex, anyway,” Sunwoo offhandedly reminds later, when Changmin’s suitcase is safely inside the apartment. He hasn’t had to run into Chanhee just yet. “We went on two dates and called it quits. You guys dated for way longer—wasn’t he your first kiss?”
Changmin looks up from his dinner, a lone noodle strand halfway into his mouth. “No, I lied about that.”
“What,” Sunwoo croaks, nearly choking on his food. He narrows his eyes in scrutiny. “Have you even had one?”
“Yes,” Changmin replies, a little offended at being branded a liar. Even if he kind of is. He’s mostly just embarrassed that this is how Sunwoo finally finds out.
“Who was it, then?”
Changmin swallows the rest of his mouthful. “Do you remember when you had your first date? In high school?”
“What, Jeon Heejin?”
“Yeah.” Changmin allows himself deep breath. “Do you remember what you asked me the day before?”
He’s imagined Sunwoo’s shocked reaction a million times in his head, but it doesn’t prepare him for how rapidly he feels heat along his face.
..……. pause ……....
⇄ |◁ ▶ ▷| ♡
“You’ve dated before, hyung.”
Changmin frowns at him, leaning back against the wall. He’s not sure they’re allowed to skate up here given that the rooftop is still school property, but the peace it brings him to watch Sunwoo is enough to erase those worries. The younger boy grins, gliding through the space, wind in his hair.
“Well… yes,” Changmin answers. He and Chanhee had broken up amicably. Though they’re a little awkward now, the more they patch up, the closer they grow as friends. “What about it?”
“So,” Sunwoo says, not really putting any power into moving past him faster. “So, you know Heejin, right?”
Right. Of course. Changmin has listened to Sunwoo’s spiels about this girl from music club. He can’t even hate her out of jealousy because as far as he’s gathered, she’s so badass, hyung. She’d brought in her bass guitar despite everyone else’s more classical taste. Effectively winning over the club leader’s favour, and also many hearts. He’s not surprised that Sunwoo’s was one of them.
“I think she’s…” Sunwoo begins shyly, stopping his board and hopping off, wringing his hands together. “Well, we’re going on a date this Saturday. Which is tomorrow, holy shit. Goddamn… I’m just nervous because, well…”
And truly, he wants nothing but for Sunwoo to be happy.
“Eric says she might try to kiss me,” Sunwoo murmurs, sitting down next to Changmin, leaning back too.
“Why would you listen to Eric? The only person he’s dated is Haknyeon, and it was to get them both in character for drama club.”
Sunwoo elbows him in the stomach, but it’s weak, not a hint of his usual fire in him. He’s scared shitless about this date.
“You can always tell her no, Sunwoo,” Changmin reminds gently, feeling odd at the thought of his friend locking lips with someone. It feels strangely like an ache.
“No! No, I know, I just…” Sunwoo trails off, looking up. The sky above them stretches on forever in blue, fluffy white scattered along it. “I don’t know how. I’ve never done it before.”
Teenagers still blooming, he finds that Sunwoo still looks at him the same as when they were little kids. With so much admiration, like he knows all the answers that Sunwoo doesn’t, and it feels like the day they first met all over again. Changmin can’t bear to let him down.
“But you have, right? With Chanhee?”
Changmin swallows down the truth, and opts for fabrication. “Yeah.”
“Do you think you could, tell me how to—?” Sunwoo gestures with his hands and Changmin wants to help him in any way he can, but he’s also selfish. God, he’s so selfish.
“I can show you,” Changmin lies through his teeth. To his surprise, Sunwoo looks relieved.
“Okay,” he replies.
“Okay,” Changmin echoes.
There’s blood rushing to his ears, and his hands are trembling when he leans in to peck Sunwoo on the mouth. When he retracts almost immediately, Sunwoo chortles.
“That’s it? No wonder Chanhee dumped you.”
It’s hushed and there’s no bite to it. And yet, it works and Changmin takes it as a challenge. Maybe he knows it is bait, deep down. Maybe he wants whatever he can get, to cling onto, so he can have this.
“I was being polite,” he lies, once more, leaning in again. Sunwoo’s eyes flutter shut in anticipation.
And when they touch lips, Changmin doesn’t know if he’s doing this right, but he can’t let Sunwoo figure that out. So he thinks back to everything he’s ever read about this, and does his best.
Angle your head just right. Mouth melting against theirs. Soft pressure, nothing too much. A hand cradling their face, perhaps. He doesn’t know; it’s all blurring together and his mind feels fuzzy, and Sunwoo’s mouth is over his and—
His heart feels weightless. Like the clouds high above them. In this moment, it feels too real.
When they part, Changmin thinks he lingers too long for a simple demonstration. But Sunwoo’s cheeks are dusted pink, and his eyes are dazed. The breeze ruffles his hair, and Changmin wishes he didn’t notice it in such detail.
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⇄ |◁ II ▷| ♡
“Well, well, well… how the tables have turned.”
Changmin laughs, even if his face may colour up. “It sounds less evil when you’ve got a Pororo bandaid in your hands.”
Sunwoo pretends to be hurt, but it’s a ruse. Just to see if it’ll make Changmin laugh. And with his expertise at this, he succeeds easily.
“Hey! Be nice to your medical professional,” he says, pushing back the hem of Changmin’s shorts. The cut on his knee isn’t at all a critical wound, but Sunwoo treats it like it is. “You used to do this for me all the time, back in the day.”
He’s got Changmin seated at the dining table, skateboard long forgotten the moment they’d stepped back into the apartment. He’s down on his knee like this is all some very delicate process. Changmin dares to run a hand through his hair, something unspeakably fond beating behind his ribs.
“Okay, medical professional, how’re you finding this reversal of roles?” he jokes, fingers lingering. Sunwoo’s hair is soft as he recalls, albeit a little longer than he remembers when he’d left.
(He looks… infuriatingly handsome. Which is something he hasn’t changed his mind about all these years, though he never admits it.)
Sunwoo flattens the bandaid with his thumb and grins up at him, perfect hair framing his perfect face. He’s still radiant as ever. God fucking damn it.
“I’d rather you didn’t get hurt at all,” he admits. “But hey, you’re learning.”
“I am mostly falling .”
In many ways. Off his board, into Sunwoo’s arms. Onto the ground. Into patient brown eyes. In… love, deeper than he’d thought he could go. Some of these have been a constant drop, never-ending.
“But you’re smiling,” Sunwoo remarks, and Changmin blinks when realises he’s right. The corners of his mouth don’t falter. “And I’ve really missed seeing you smile.”
..…….. pause ……....
⇄ |◁ ▶ ▷| ♡
Their Fridays usually end with Sunwoo dragging him into the store right after school. Uniforms and all, he lets the other tug him along, eyes filled with wonder at the display of boards propped against the bright purple walls. Sunwoo will point out his favourites, and Changmin will jokingly scrutinise his taste, but mentally take note.
At some point, Sunwoo begs the owner to let him customise his own, so long as he pays for all the materials. He takes on summer jobs, saving up all throughout their holidays. Changmin helps him sketch out his vision on paper, his insides going dangerously fluttery when he sees the joy on Sunwoo’s face. He realises Jaehyun was right about his heart’s direction.
But he’s endured it this far, and he can surely go on for a few more years. Or as long as it takes for him to get over it.
The end result of their diligence is an elegant, deep red board, white wheels accented with the same colour. The underside is patterned with cherries, and the imperfections in the lines make him smile. It’s not so bad for a project by a pair of high schoolers.
It’s a bit later when he hears of Sunwoo’s second attempt. He admits that he’s been trying for a few months, and brushes off all his attempts to help. Something about doing it all on his own this time. It stings a little, how he clams up whenever Changmin asks about its progress, but he reasons that it’s none of his business really.
The curiosity gnaws at his insides.
But his birthday comes around, and Sunwoo presents him with a much-missed embrace, and a brand new board. It’s cleaner, and matches the one they’d worked on together, save for the blue theme. The blueberries on the underside match Sunwoo’s cherries.
“I’m sorry I left you out of this,” Sunwoo says, squeezing him tight. “I just wanted to surprise you. I’m sorry, baby.”
Sunwoo picking up this endearment for him has to be the best and worst thing that’s ever happened. Changmin has never been able to stay upset when Sunwoo says it like that, and only ever to him.
“This is a good apology,” Changmin says, and Sunwoo looks at him, still worried. Changmin sighs at the expression, and then pecks Sunwoo’s forehead, momentarily stunning him, but effectively unraveling his frown. “But you don’t need to apologise, Sunwoo.”
“I do if I made my baby sad.” Sunwoo’s hands are coming up, fingers poking at the corners of Changmin’s mouth. Changmin’s lip wobbles, and makes way for a small smile. Sunwoo mirrors it. “There you go—my favourite smile in the world.”
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⇄ |◁ II ▷| ♡
Running into Chanhee isn’t something he should’ve been dreading, nor something he should’ve been prolonging for the next tomorrow (which turned into the next, and then the next, and then the next). The park they used to frequent as kids is still there, and Changmin finds him on the swing-set, late into the night. Old habits die hard, it seems.
“Where have you been?” Chanhee all but whines, hopping off to embrace him, his hold bone-crushing. “God, I’ve been worried sick about you. Are you okay?”
Changmin is forever in awe of how benign Chanhee can be, despite the prickly front he puts up. He’d been the first to reach out after their breakup in highschool, ready to mend their friendship. It shouldn’t be a surprise that after months of radio silence from Changmin, his first reaction is of concern.
“I don’t deserve you,” Changmin mumbles miserably, not making any move to let go of him.
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous,” Chanhee scoffs, and then pulls away to look at him directly. “Jinsoul tells me it’s been a hard year, but nothing beyond that. Her texts lack detail for someone so chatty.”
Changmin’s jaw drops. “Why do you even have h—”
“We’re instagram friends. I had to find a way to track you down.”
He sits back down on the swing with a sigh, and Changmin joins him on the other one. Chanhee always has been scarily driven when he wants to be. Changmin just hopes Jinsoul wasn’t scared off. Finding a flatmate without a language barrier between them felt like a miracle, and he doesn’t think it’ll be an easy task finding another one so soon. That, and the rent isn’t going down any time in the near future.
“Don’t worry. Noona loves me. I actually have a lego set I need you to take back to her.”
Changmin can’t believe Chanhee has been bribing her with tiny overpriced building-blocks in exchange for private intel. Never trust anybody, not even the sweet, almost naive girl that forgets her own birthday and straightens Changmin’s collar like he’s some little kid.
Chanhee is rolling his eyes, but then the expression falls away. All that’s left is softness.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asks, unmoving. He watches Changmin swing back and forth instead, drifting through the air. “You can talk to us when things get tough. Why didn’t you?”
Pretending has always been so hard around Chanhee. His vision begins to blur, and his voice cracks as he tries to speak.
“I—I don’t know? I didn’t want to dump shit on you guys when you probably already have your own.”
The sound he gets is sympathetic, and Changmin holds the swing handles and grounds himself, heels digging into the sand.
“We want to know,” Chanhee pipes up, and suddenly everything he’s done feels so silly. For all his complaints about ageing too soon, Changmin sure feels childish. “We care so much, you know? Me, Jaehyun, Haknyeon, Eric… Sunwoo.”
When Changmin doesn’t reply, Chanhee reaches over to tap his arm.
“Especially Sunwoo.”
When Changmin looks at him in confusion, Chanhee laughs, incredulous.
“Trust me, I learned a lot about him on those two dates.”
..…….. pause ……....
⇄ |◁ ▶ ▷| ♡
Chanhee’s deadpan eyes are very clear even with the delay in their video call.
“Please?” Changmin tries again, and it feels a little pathetic. “Please Chanhee, please? He’s a good guy, I promise.”
His friend raises a brow. “Okay, then why haven’t you gone out with him? He’s clearly obsessed with you. Even when you’re in a completely different country.”
Changmin’s laugh is too airy, his lack of proper response not making for a convincing speech.
“Wh—!” he says, facing his phone to shrug. Even through a screen perched on his bookshelf, Chanhee manages to stare into his soul. “Don’t be silly! It’s Sunwoo. I can’t just—that’s my best friend!”
He gets a funny look in return. “We’re friends. And you dated me.”
He puts down the vase he was wiping clean. “But that’s different.”
When Chanhee keeps staring at him with big, unblinking eyes, Changmin exhales.
“He’s Sunwoo,” Changmin mumbles. He’s warm sugar in his veins and the high of the summer breeze and everything good in the world. Changmin can’t do something that might leave him heartbroken. “He’s my Sunwoo. I can’t. It wouldn’t be… right.”
He shakes his head, picking up the vase again. In the tiny rectangle in the corner of the screen, he sees his own face. He wouldn’t believe himself either, not with that dejected expression.
Changmin attempts a smile and continues. “Besides, he wouldn’t have asked you if he wasn’t genuinely interested. Please don’t break his heart. Again, that’s my best friend.”
Chanhee sighs, and the look he gives Changmin is half-pitiful. “Okay, I’ll go on one date. But only because you vouched for him.”
ıılıılıılı play ıılıılıılı
⇄ |◁ II ▷| ♡
“So that’s why you didn’t come back for the holidays.”
Sunwoo’s room is a lot different from the one back in his childhood home. There are no scribbles on the walls to mark their heights, and his sheets are plain and unpatterned. Changmin almost wonders if growing up had plucked him of his whimsy too, but there are splashes of warmth here and there that remind him of the Sunwoo he knows and loves.
The reds that catch his eye every now and then, cherry-shaped cushion against his bed, the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, the free space above his desk that is scattered with memories of sorts. Posters, polaroids, notes. In the centre of it all is the drawing from his middle-school sketchbook.
“I can’t believe you kept that,” Changmin teases, pointing.
It’s not his best work, but he’s surprised at how well his younger self had captured the memory. Strokes of warm hued crayon, all lines forming the image of Sunwoo on his skateboard. Changmin had doodled the little stem above him for fun, claiming he looked like a cherry with his bright red helmet. To this day, he’s surprised by the fruit-themed memorabilia that shows up in Sunwoo’s things.
“It’s a masterpiece,” Sunwoo argues, and then jabs a finger into his side. “Hey! Don’t change the subject.”
If Changmin lays himself against the ash grey of his bed and lets his vision unfocus, he can pretend they’re a little younger again and forget. But Sunwoo is beside him, expectant and present and oh-so patient.
“I was just so… embarrassed,” he replies, remembering their topic at hand. “My parents were so proud of me, and they were so happy to support me flying out to study. What would I even tell them if they asked? Everyone’s always talking about how bright I am, or whatever.”
Sunwoo is next to him, their shoulders touching. “You are bright.”
Changmin scoffs. “So bright I flunked an entire semester by not getting anything done and running away instead. Yeah, right.”
Sunwoo exhales heavily. He turns onto his side, and his eyes glimmer. Golden meteors and amber starlight. Changmin is always so fascinated by the lustre they hold. “You’re not running away. You’re just taking a break. On your professor’s recommendation , might I add.”
What’s worse is that Sunwoo is right. Whatever was happening to him had gotten so bad that his professor had pulled him aside, reassured him to take it slower. It wasn’t until he hit a breaking point that Changmin felt forced to step back.
“It’s okay,” Sunwoo whispers, arm slipping over him.
Changmin lets out a short laugh. If Sunwoo hears how it breaks at the end, he doesn’t mention it. “If it’s okay, why do I feel so fucking terrible?”
“Because you’re incredible and you’ve never failed at anything in your life. Of course you weren’t equipped to deal with this on the first time.” Sunwoo is murmuring his strange reassurances into the side of Changmin’s head, and languidly, the world seems to grow rosier. He seems pleased to hear Changmin laugh. “Wait, but you were always so busy when I tried to call you. What were you doing then?”
Changmin takes a deep breath. They have a lot to catch up on. Before he can continue, Sunwoo is wrapping around him again, squeezing him tight in his arms. He supposes they have a lot of hugging to catch up on, too.
“Also, just saying, you can’t make fun of me for keeping your drawing. I’m not the one who packed a whole skateboard into my luggage.”
..…….. pause ……....
⇄ |◁ ▶ ▷| ♡
“Sorry to cut this short, I’m late.”
Changmin hops around as he tries to wiggle into his work pants. Sunwoo is staring at him through the phone screen, set nicely on his desk.
“It’s alright to be late for class every now and then,” he says, much too seriously. “Or to even ditch.”
Oh, if only. Changmin wishes he was late to class. His parents still send him sweet words in the family group chat. He hasn’t gone to his classes in a solid month. His eldest sister still sends him money. He’s juggling part time jobs instead to ease his guilt, and maybe pay her back when the truth comes out.
He can’t do it anymore. He wants the world to stop for a moment, to allow him to exhale.
“Hyung, we should call again when you’re free.”
If he were still back at home, this would be Sunwoo’s usual clinginess. But right now it’s code for something a little less lighthearted. Something more desperate—a rope to grab onto after Changmin has consistently shut everyone out for too long. But Sunwoo knows him, and so he doesn’t push hard enough to corner Changmin.
“Sure, Sun. When I have time.”
It’s a white lie.
Changmin can’t face him until he’s got it together. But that’s turning out to take longer than he hoped. And picking yourself up off the ground is harder when you’re not holding onto someone’s hand.
Still he’s mortified at the prospect of disappointing those closest to him.
“You keep the board in your room?”
Sunwoo’s question snaps him out of his thoughts. He glances at the spot next to his wardrobe. Jinsoul had helped him secure a wall-mount, after finding the skateboard under his bed. She’d insisted that if it was special enough for him to bring all the way to another country, it’s special enough for him to put up to see whenever he wants to.
“Uh, yeah. I really do love it.”
Jinsoul was right. He finds himself staring at the cute little blueberries more often than he’d admit. He doesn’t know how to tell Sunwoo that it’s the only thing keeping him sane right now.
After a moment’s hesitation, he picks up the phone, bringing it closer. He hasn’t held Sunwoo in forever. “I miss you.”
“Me too,” Sunwoo says, relief in his voice.
.…….. rewind ……...
⇄ |◁ ↺ ▷| ♡
“Tomorrow, huh?”
The image of Sunwoo, his pants soaked up to his knees, holding a bucket full of ocean, standing statue-still—it’s so silly, it should technically be funny. His expression is anything but, and Changmin can’t find it in himself to laugh.
“Yeah,” he says instead, turning back to the mound of sand they were trying to shape. Their sand-sculpture is a sad, lopsided sort of thing. “I’ll be flying out just before midnight.”
There’s a look in Sunwoo's eyes that makes him want to drop it all. It’s the same dread he’s been feeling in the last few months leading up to this. But you can’t have it all, he’d reasoned. And god, he’s dreamed of this opportunity for so long. He knows if Sunwoo knew of his inner-conflict, he’d spend every last moment trying to convince Changmin to pursue that dream.
“I’ll call you,” Changmin begins.
There’s a pause, before Sunwoo places the bucket next to them. For a moment, they’re both silent, patting sand into place.
“Call me every day,” Sunwoo blurts out, and then shakes his head. “Well, I mean, when you can, of course. Post-grad sounds like a shitload of work.”
“Sunwoo,” Changmin sighs. “Of course I’ll make time.”
“Any time is a good time for me, by the way. I can make time, at any time for you.”
Changmin dusts the sand off his hands. He reaches out to ruffle his friend’s hair.
“I’ll text you,” Sunwoo continues, and his voice is growing thick. He sounds like he did back when Changmin was graduating from middle school. “If I can’t do that, I’ll email you. Or send you letters. Hell, I’ll bring back messenger pigeons if I have to.”
“Sunwoo—” he giggles, accidentally knocking over a portion of their structure. “Oh, no. Sorry. This is a shitty castle.”
But Sunwoo smoothens it further. Their castle is looking less sturdy by the minute, and more like one really long wall that keeps varying in height. Sunwoo plucks a flat shell off the ground and places it atop a section, and then finds one more. He places his index and middle finger on the shell, and uses his other hand to do the same with the other one. Changmin tilts his head in confusion.
“Look, it’s us,” Sunwoo explains.
He drags both shells along their sculpture, and that’s when Changmin realises what he’s doing. When his fingers bend in an imitation of how he’d often try to explain how you should bend your knees while doing this.
Changmin doesn’t know how he’ll fare if he spots a skateboard abroad, with no Sunwoo next to him. The sun is slowly dipping towards the horizon, colouring everything apricot. Tomorrow is one minute closer, and he is dreading it.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispers, spellbound by how Sunwoo’s silhouette is glowing.
There are other words that are bursting to leap out of his heart. Things he would love to be out in the open when there’s distance between them. Things he’s been wanting to tell Sunwoo for the longest time. He wonders if he’ll regret biting his tongue instead.
“Maybe,” Sunwoo begins, abandoning his makeshift mini skateboards, “maybe you should fit me into your suitcase.”
ıılıılıılı play ıılıılıılı
⇄ |◁ II ▷| ♡
Changmin has always much preferred the beach during the day, but he had the sudden urge to watch the sunset this evening. He brings it up after one too many tries at kick-turning, only half successful under his friend’s observations. Sunwoo’s eyes had lit up, and he’d immediately ushered Changmin out of the skatepark and into his car. He even gets them slushies on the way.
The sun’s farewell is as beautiful as in his memory, and Sunwoo’s shoulder is as easy to lay his head on as he remembers. The aureate glow it traces him with, however, looks more ethereal than ever—or is he just dramatising it, knowing he’ll miss Sunwoo again when he has to leave?
But even later, when they’re still sitting on the beach, gazing up at star-painted skies, it’s the same. Sunwoo’s beauty doesn’t diminish with the lack of golden hour.
“When do your classes start again?” he asks, sipping out of his bright red cup noisily, despite having finished five minutes after buying it. He claims the melted ice has flavour left.
Changmin sighs. “Not until the next semester.”
He has a few more months to kill before he dives into it all again. When he’d finally broken the news to his family, they had been devastated to learn about how he’s been shouldering all this. He’d been smothered with love for a good two weeks before they let him out of their clutches, and back to Sunwoo’s place.
These weeks, carefree and fun as they are, all feel like a dream in slow-motion, fuzzy at the edges and tinged too rosy to be true.
“Should we go back together for the rest of your break? I’ve always wanted to visit.”
Sunwoo is gently fitting his fingers in between Changmin’s, glancing up to gauge his reaction.
“What, you and me?” Changmin asks. “Don’t you have a job?”
Sunwoo shrugs. “I’m due to take some time off anyway.”
He knows all dreams are something you eventually wake up from. And despite his words, Changmin isn’t ready to wake up just yet.
There’s a nudge to his shoulder. Sunwoo leans closer to his ear.
“I think you’re still healing, and that’s okay,” Sunwoo whispers. He presses his lips to Changmin’s temple. Quieter, he continues. “And it’s been hard for me, too. Being away from you.”
Changmin’s heart starts to speed up, and he feels like a child when he rushes to admit, “Me too. There were so many days where I just wanted to see you.”
Sunwoo smiles at that. Their fingers are still interlaced. “So I see no reason not to book flight tickets for both of us.”
Changmin is almost convinced.
“I could even take my board with me, to teach you once we’re there.” Sunwoo tries to persuade him, fingertips tapping on the back of his hand. “I bet yours hasn’t left that wall since, well, ever.”
There is a lot he has wanted to show Sunwoo in person there. There are so many things he’s experienced, that he’s only been able to explain to Sunwoo in pictures and excited voice messages. Changmin is pretty sure Jinsoul would love to meet the artist who crafted the board in his room. And yet—
“Your parents would be so pleased to know you’re spending the rest of the break with me, instead of alone,” Sunwoo says, cutting his worried thoughts short. “They love me.”
Changmin scoffs, but he also laughs. “They do. But they wouldn’t want me to inconvenience you like that just because you’re my friend.”
He expects Sunwoo to gasp, all dramatic and over-the-top, like he usually does. But his eyes are soft as seafoam, his smile a little nervous.
“What would they say if you took your boyfriend instead?”
Time stopping around Sunwoo is nothing new. But the pause of the world in this moment is different to anything else he’s ever felt. Changmin tries to speak, but all he can feel is his heart beating in his throat.
“Not that I expect you to say yes,” Sunwoo continues, and the hold of his fingers is loosening. Trying to give Changmin some space if he needs it. “Especially if you don’t feel the same way. But I know you… so, tell me I’m wrong.”
Changmin grasps his hand again right before their skin stops touching. He can’t leave this time without telling Sunwoo. He doesn’t know if he can bear swallowing it down again. Not when they’re finally on the same page.
“I guess, it’d be pretty nice,” Changmin mumbles, looking down at their hands. “To take my boyfriend with me.”
“Yeah?”
He doesn’t dare look at Sunwoo’s face. The glee in his voice is enough to send the butterflies in Changmin’s stomach flying up into his brain, settling on his cheeks to stain red. He shrugs instead, eyes trained on the sea in the distance.
“I think if someone stays on your mind for years even after such a shitty first kiss, then it means something.”
Sunwoo laughs so hard he tumbles over onto the sand. Changmin finds himself smiling, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. Who would’ve thought, years later, he’d be sitting hand in hand with a crush his heart so stubbornly wouldn’t let go of? He feels like he’s fifteen and newly in love again.
“Years, huh?” Sunwoo asks, sitting up again. He’s leaning close and Changmin finds the courage to turn his face so their eyes meet. “You want a do-over of that kiss?”
There’s a part of him that’s finding it hard to believe he can now say yes to this. But there’s another part of him, a patiently waiting part that’s been unearthed, that has been dreaming of this for so long.
“Mhm,” he hums, leaning in. “If you think you can do better, show me.”
Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow at this, but then he’s slotting their lips together. Gentle steps, clockwork hearts stopped for just this instant. He cups Changmin’s face, patient thumb running along his cheek. He’s still careful when he takes Changmin’s bottom lip between his teeth, a small laugh escaping him at the quiet gasp he gets. But he takes his time, and Changmin realises just how much love there is, built up between them. When they break apart, the smile he gets is elated, and so, so tender.
It’s always been Sunwoo, despite all the denying Changmin has tried to do.
“That was some kiss,” Changmin whispers, leaning down to peck Sunwoo’s neck. And then making himself at home there, face nestled into the crook of it. “Will you teach me your secrets to this, too, on our trip?”
“Oh, this?” Sunwoo asks, fingers running through Changmin’s hair. He wiggles his shoulder, and Changmin has no choice but to leave his hiding spot, meeting bright eyes full of mischief once again. “This, I can teach you right here and now.”
Changmin giggles, stopping him with a palm to his chest. He glances around the beach, vacant at this hour but still very public.
Sunwoo looks sheepish when he realises what he means. But he blinks, struck with a sudden idea. “Good thing my car isn’t too far away.”
Changmin cannot believe him sometimes. He raises a brow, but the corners of his lips are already trying to betray him. “How convenient.”
But that’s all it takes for Sunwoo to get to his feet, eyes glittering in excitement. He hauls Changmin up, and pecks him swiftly. And then has the gall to laugh when Changmin’s mouth falls open in surprise.
“I’m going to do that so much,” Sunwoo sighs, a blissful sort of curve to his lips.
Changmin tries to fix him with as serious of a stare as he can manage. “You better.”
“Oh, trust me baby, I will.” And then Sunwoo is holding up his pinky, grinning when Changmin laughs in disbelief. “I promise.”
“You’re so…” Changmin shakes his head, but he reaches up to wrap his pinky around Sunwoo’s. His cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, and yet he can’t seem to stop. “I’ll hold you onto that promise.”
But then he’s got that look in his eyes again—content and delighted and almost starstruck.
“Let’s go get started then.”
The feeling that overcomes him is giddy, but it melts away into a calmer buzz when Sunwoo laces their fingers together again. He reaches up with his free hand to touch his mouth, and finds that he’s still smiling. Changmin could get used to this.