Chapter Text
Seungcheol could never quite remember a time before Jeonghan and Joshua. They’d been there for as long as his memories went back, threaded through every important moment of his life like the constant, steady hum of a familiar melody.
The three of them had always fit together, like puzzle pieces meant to be pressed into the same picture. It wasn’t something they ever questioned. Childhood summers spent running through the same streets, scraped knees patched up by the same bandages, the endless sleepovers where they’d crowd onto the same bed and talk until the first signs of dawn—all those little things had woven their lives together into something strong, something unbreakable.
It was impossible to separate their stories. Jeonghan had been the one who dared them to sneak out of the house at night, dragging them through midnight escapades under a blanket of stars. His mischievous grin was always paired with wild ideas, a fearless leader in the most ridiculous of adventures. And then there was Joshua—gentle, calm, the voice of reason who usually convinced them not to do anything too reckless. But even Joshua couldn’t resist the charm of Jeonghan’s excitement for long. One look, one teasing smile from Jeonghan, and Joshua would roll his eyes and give in, every time.
And Seungcheol—well, he always thought of himself as the balance between them. Not quite as bold as Jeonghan, not quite as soft as Joshua, but something in between, always ready to keep the peace and, when necessary, dive headfirst into whatever trouble Jeonghan got them into.
They’d been through everything together, the trio. School days where Jeonghan’s clever pranks left teachers exasperated, but Seungcheol and Joshua could never stop laughing. Or the afternoons spent in Joshua’s room, guitar in hand, as he strummed the chords to their favorite songs while Seungcheol absentmindedly hummed along, and Jeonghan threw himself dramatically across the couch, offering his best impersonation of a rock star.
They grew older, but some things never changed. They stayed inseparable through high school, through college. When others came and went, the trio remained. It didn’t matter where life tried to take them—they were bound together by something deeper than time, something rooted in the days when their world was only as big as the playground and their biggest worry was who’d be "it" in tag.
Seungcheol liked to think that no matter what came next, no matter how complicated life got, the three of them would always have this—their shared past, the weight of a lifetime spent by each other’s sides. That kind of friendship wasn’t something that could be undone. It was permanent. Unshakable.
Or at least, that’s what Seungcheol had always believed.
The big city was supposed to be the next great adventure. They’d talked about it for years, dreaming of the day they’d all move away together, trading their sleepy hometown for the pulse and promise of the city.
And they’d done it, too—Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua, a trio even the city couldn’t break. At first, it felt like nothing had changed. Sure, Jeonghan and Joshua got an apartment together, a sleek place in one of the higher-end districts. They both had corporate jobs—Jeonghan as an executive in finance and Joshua as a marketing officer in the same company. It fit them both so perfectly that Seungcheol couldn’t help but laugh. Of course, Jeonghan thrived in the high-paced world of finance, manipulating numbers like he used to manipulate schoolyard dares. And Joshua? There was no one better suited for managing people, with his soft-spoken, calm charisma.
Seungcheol, on the other hand, had taken a different path. He’d poured everything he had into his clothing brand, something he’d dreamed of since he was a kid, sketching designs in the margins of his notebooks. It was tough, running his own business, but it was his. Every piece of fabric, every stitch was his creation. It gave him a sense of freedom that nothing else could.
Still, despite their busy lives, nothing ever seemed to change between them. Seungcheol spent as much time at Jeonghan and Joshua’s apartment as he did at his own. He and his younger brothers, Seokmin and Mingyu, shared a small place, but more often than not, Seungcheol found himself crashing on Jeonghan and Joshua’s extra bed, waking up to the smell of Joshua’s coffee or Jeonghan’s teasing voice dragging him out of bed.
The apartment had become a second home to him, a place where he could escape the demands of his business and just be himself—surrounded by the comfort of his two best friends.
But as time passed, Seungcheol began to notice… something. It was subtle, so subtle that for a while he told himself he was imagining it. Nothing had really changed, he kept insisting. Jeonghan and Joshua never left him out. They still invited him over for dinner, still teased him when he refused to leave their couch.
But he could feel it. Like a shift in the air, something unspoken but present.
There were moments when Jeonghan and Joshua would exchange a glance—a glance that seemed to carry weight, a kind of understanding that didn’t need words. Sometimes, Seungcheol would catch them in quiet conversations, their voices low, their expressions softer.
At first, he thought it was nothing. But then the moments grew, little things that were impossible to ignore. Jeonghan’s hand lingering on Joshua’s arm. The way they’d share quiet smiles over dinner. How their laughter was just a bit different when it was only the two of them.
They were still the trio they had always been. They still invited Seungcheol to every night out, every dinner, every impromptu movie night. But sometimes, Seungcheol would find himself watching them from the corner of his eye, wondering if he’d missed something along the way.
He couldn’t put it into words, not even to himself, but he knew something had shifted. He started to feel like the third wheel in moments where, before, he’d never felt anything but perfectly at home.
It wasn’t like Jeonghan and Joshua were shutting him out—not at all. They made sure he knew he was welcome, as always. And yet, there was this quiet, persistent ache in Seungcheol’s chest that told him things were different. Maybe it was just the way life worked—people grew closer, and sometimes, even in the most inseparable friendships, one person got left behind.
He hated how paranoid it made him feel, but he couldn’t ignore it anymore. The realization weighed heavier on him as the weeks passed.
It was in the way Jeonghan laughed just a little too hard at one of Joshua’s jokes, the way Joshua seemed to always know what Jeonghan was thinking without needing to ask.
They’d always been close, but now… now, they were closer. Closer in a way that made Seungcheol feel like he was standing on the outside of something.
And for the first time in his life, the thought crept into his mind, uninvited and unwanted: Maybe he didn’t belong here anymore.
New Year’s Eve had always been their thing. Even as life pulled them in different directions—work, responsibilities, and the endless grind of adulthood—there were some traditions that the three of them never let go. Celebrating Joshua’s birthday on the cusp of the new year was one of them.
This year, they’d planned a quiet night, just the three of them in Jeonghan and Joshua’s apartment. They'd ordered in Seungcheol’s favorite takeout and joked about how the city felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for midnight to arrive. There was a sense of comfort in those familiar rhythms—Joshua humming as he set the table, Jeonghan dramatically critiquing the fireworks on TV, Seungcheol sprawled on the couch, teasing them both between bites of food.
It felt normal. It felt like the way things had always been.
But as the night wore on, Seungcheol couldn’t help noticing how Jeonghan and Joshua seemed… distracted. There was a tension in the air that wasn’t there before, like they were holding something back. He told himself it was nothing, just his mind playing tricks on him again. But then Joshua asked if they could talk for a minute.
“Sure,” Seungcheol had said easily, sliding up to sit on the edge of the couch. “What’s up?”
It was Jeonghan who spoke first, his voice quieter than usual, almost… nervous. “There’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you, Cheol-ah.”
Joshua gave Jeonghan a quick look, then nodded, as if to encourage him.
Seungcheol’s stomach tightened.
“We’ve been… together,” Jeonghan said, the words hanging in the air between them, far heavier than they should have been. “Shua and I. For a while now.”
Together. The word echoed in Seungcheol’s mind, bouncing off the walls of his skull as he sat there, frozen. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t speak.
Joshua’s voice was soft, like he was trying to ease the blow. “We didn’t want to keep it from you, Cheol-ah. But… we weren’t sure how to tell you.” His eyes searched Seungcheol’s face for a reaction. “Nothing’s going to change between us, though. You’re still the most important person in our lives. That’s not going to change.”
Seungcheol felt like the world was tilting beneath him, like he couldn’t quite find his footing. But even as the shock rolled over him, he did what he always did. He forced a smile, forced a laugh.
“Oh my God,” Seungcheol chuckled, shaking his head in mock surprise. “I knew it! I mean, how could you two not end up together?” He willed his voice to sound teasing, light, even as something inside him shattered. “What took you so long to tell me?”
Jeonghan let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. “We didn’t want you to feel weird about it,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You know how much you mean to us, Cheol-ah.”
Joshua was watching him, though—watching him a little too closely, like he could sense that something was off. But Seungcheol waved it off, giving a light punch to Joshua’s shoulder and pulling out the most convincing grin he could manage.
“Please,” Seungcheol scoffed, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m not that fragile. Congrats, you two. Took you long enough.”
Jeonghan laughed, and for a moment, the tension dissolved. They went back to watching the countdown to midnight, back to the way things were, but only on the surface. Because underneath it all, Seungcheol was screaming.
By the time he finally left their apartment, hours later, Seungcheol was running on fumes. The drive home was a blur, the lights of the city flashing by in streaks of neon and darkness, but none of it registered. He barely managed a weak smile for Seokmin and Mingyu when he stepped through the door, muttering something about being tired before locking himself in his room.
And that’s when the weight of it hit him.
It was like a dam had broken inside him, all the emotions he’d been holding back crashing down in one violent wave. Seungcheol collapsed onto his bed, his body shaking with the force of it, the tears coming before he could stop them. The laugh he’d forced out earlier—the joke, the teasing—felt like a cruel echo in his ears now. He had congratulated them. He had smiled and acted like nothing was wrong.
But everything was wrong.
He pressed his face into the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds, but it was no use. The sobs tore out of him, raw and relentless, each one a painful reminder of what he had lost. Or maybe what he had never really had.
Because the truth was, Seungcheol had been in love with Jeonghan and Joshua for as long as he could remember. He had loved them both so deeply, so completely, that there hadn’t been room for anything else. He never told them, because he never believed it would matter. They were his best friends—always had been, always would be. And that was enough. He had convinced himself of that for years.
But now, knowing that they had each other, knowing that they were building a life together that he would never truly be part of… it broke something inside him.
His chest ached with the weight of it, the heartbreak more brutal than anything he had ever felt. He couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t stop the silent screams that clawed at his throat. It was all too much.
At some point, maybe hours later, he heard the soft knock on his door. Seokmin, probably, or maybe Mingyu. He didn’t have the strength to answer, didn’t have the words to explain what was happening to him.
“Hyung? You okay?” Seokmin’s voice was soft, filled with concern. “You… haven’t eaten. Should I bring you something?”
Seungcheol buried his face deeper into the pillow, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Not like this.
“Hyung?” Seokmin’s voice wavered slightly. “If you want to talk—”
“I’m fine,” Seungcheol managed to choke out, his voice hoarse and broken. “Just… I need to be alone.”
He could feel Seokmin hesitate on the other side of the door, and then the soft sound of footsteps retreating. Alone. That’s what he needed. Because no one—no one—could understand this kind of pain.
Seungcheol curled into himself, tears soaking his pillow as he let the grief take over. He had never prepared himself for this—never prepared himself for the heartbreak that came with loving them both.
He wasn’t sure he ever would.
Time had a strange way of smoothing things over, dulling the edges of sharp emotions until they were easier to carry. Or maybe it wasn’t time that helped Seungcheol, but the sheer force of his own will. He refused to dwell on it—on Jeonghan and Joshua being together. It was too much to think about, so he simply didn’t. He numbed himself to it, day by day, until it became something he could almost forget.
Almost.
Months passed, and before he knew it, his own birthday came around. As always, Jeonghan and Joshua made sure it was a night to remember, filling the apartment with laughter and the clink of glasses as they drank far too much. Seungcheol had done what he did best—slipped back into the easy role of the joker, laughing and drinking like nothing had ever changed.
They had all gotten so drunk that night. It was the kind of celebration where the world blurred at the edges, where everything felt warm and soft, and the problems of real life seemed so far away. Seungcheol remembered vague flashes of the night—the three of them crowded together, drinking far too much alcohol, Jeonghan teasing him about turning a year older, Joshua playfully scolding them both for drinking too fast.
And then there was the hazy memory of falling into their bed, sandwiched between them like old times. Jeonghan had his arm thrown carelessly over Seungcheol’s chest, and Joshua was somewhere on his other side, their bodies tangled together in a comfortable mess. It was almost like nothing had changed.
But when he woke up the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains, the memories came rushing back in full force. The blurred lines between friendship and love, the sting of knowing that for them, it was just another fun night. For him? It was another reminder of what he could never have.
Seungcheol had pushed the thoughts away. Buried them deep, where they couldn’t hurt him. After all, that’s what he’d been doing for months.
But then came Jeonghan’s birthday. And with it, the news that would rip apart whatever fragile acceptance Seungcheol had managed to piece together.
It was late into the night when Joshua pulled Seungcheol aside. The celebration had gone on well into the evening, with drinks flowing and laughter bouncing off the walls of Jeonghan and Joshua’s apartment. Jeonghan was in the living room, busy entertaining a few other friends, but Joshua had tugged Seungcheol by the arm, pulling him away from the crowd and into the quiet of the kitchen.
“Hey,” Joshua said, his voice soft but brimming with excitement, eyes sparkling in the dim light. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, Cheol-ah.”
Seungcheol blinked, still a little hazy from the alcohol, but he forced a smile. “What’s up?”
Joshua glanced around, lowering his voice as if he were about to share the world’s best-kept secret. “We’ve been planning something. I mean, Jeonghannie doesn’t know yet, but… I’m going to propose.”
The words hit Seungcheol like a punch to the gut. He felt the floor drop out from under him, his breath catching for just a second. But Joshua was beaming, his excitement practically spilling over, and Seungcheol knew—knew—that this moment wasn’t about him. He couldn’t let it be.
“Really?” Seungcheol managed to say, his voice lighter than he felt. “That’s amazing, Shua-yah.”
Joshua’s smile widened, like a child who had been waiting for permission to open a long-anticipated gift. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I want to make it special, though. You know how Jeonghan is—he’d kill me if it wasn’t perfect.”
Seungcheol laughed—at least, it sounded like a laugh. He wasn’t sure anymore. “Of course. He’s always had a taste for the dramatic.”
Joshua’s eyes softened. “I was hoping… well, I wanted to ask if you’d help me with the proposal. I mean, who knows him better than you?”
Seungcheol felt his chest tighten, but he nodded anyway. “You know I’ll do whatever you need. Just say the word.”
Joshua grinned, giving him a quick, grateful squeeze on the shoulder. “You’re the best, Cheol-ah. I knew I could count on you.”
And just like that, Joshua turned and rejoined the party, leaving Seungcheol standing there in the kitchen, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on him like a vice.
He should have expected this. Of course, Joshua and Jeonghan were going to get married. They had been together for months now, and they were perfect for each other. It made sense. It was logical.
But knowing that didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.
By the time Seungcheol got home that night, the numbness had started to wear off, and the full weight of it all came crashing down on him. He shut the door to his apartment and stood there in the dark for a long time, staring blankly ahead, his mind racing in circles.
They’re getting married. Joshua and Jeonghan. And I’m going to help them.
He let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing in the silence of the apartment. He was going to help the two people he loved more than anything in the world take the next step in their lives together. He would plan the proposal, smile through the wedding, and stand by their side as they built a life that didn’t include him in the way he had always dreamed.
Seungcheol sank down onto the edge of his bed, the laughter dying on his lips. He had told himself for months that he’d be okay, that he could handle being the third wheel. But the truth was, he couldn’t. He couldn’t handle any of it.
Tears pricked at his eyes as he buried his face in his hands. He had loved them for so long, carried that love with him for years, thinking that maybe one day—just maybe—they might see him the way he saw them. But that hope was gone now, broken into pieces that he couldn’t even begin to put back together.
His chest felt tight, like he could barely breathe, and the tears started to fall before he could stop them. It hurt. It hurt in a way that he wasn’t sure he would ever get over.
He had promised to help them, and he would. He would keep his word, no matter how much it tore him apart inside.
But in the silence of his room, with the weight of his heartbreak pressing down on him, Seungcheol knew the truth: this was the end of whatever hope he had left.
On the outside, everything looked fine. Seungcheol had always been good at hiding his emotions, at putting on a smile when he was falling apart inside. It was a skill he’d honed over the years, but he had never needed it as much as he did now.
He was the same Seungcheol—teasing Joshua about how nervous he was, helping Jeonghan pick out the perfect outfit for random dinners, showing up at their apartment almost every night whenever the called him over, like nothing had changed. He kept the smile on his face, laughed at the right moments, and helped Joshua plan the perfect proposal for Jeonghan, making sure every detail was flawless.
But underneath all of that, Seungcheol was unraveling.
He couldn’t stay here. Not anymore. He had made up his mind about that. After Joshua’s proposal, after Jeonghan said yes—because of course he would—Seungcheol was going to leave. He had already started making plans, quietly and carefully, without telling anyone. Not even Seokmin or Mingyu knew.
The first step had been applying for a visa. He’d always wanted to expand his clothing brand internationally, so it wasn’t hard to come up with the perfect excuse. New York. It was the center of the fashion world, and with his cousin Hansol already living there, it was easy enough to arrange a place to stay. He had called Hansol weeks ago, asking if he could crash at his apartment for a while.
“You can stay as long as you need, hyung,” Hansol had said, his easygoing voice coming through the phone. “I’ve got plenty of space. It'll be great to see you!”
It all sounded perfect. It was the fresh start Seungcheol told himself he needed. A chance to get away, to clear his head, and—more importantly—to put distance between himself and the people he loved most. He didn’t want to be here, watching from the sidelines as Jeonghan and Joshua got married, knowing he would never have what they had.
He hadn’t told them yet. Not even a hint. Seungcheol knew he’d have to tell them eventually, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it now. Not when Joshua was so excited about the proposal. He didn’t want to cast a shadow over the moment. Not when they were so close to getting everything they’d ever wanted.
So, Seungcheol focused on the task at hand, pouring all his energy into helping Joshua create the perfect proposal. He booked the rooftop of a cozy restaurant with a stunning view of the city skyline, the kind of place Jeonghan would love. He made sure the lighting would be soft and intimate, the table set with Jeonghan’s favorite flowers. He even arranged for a private violinist, something Jeonghan had once mentioned in passing as “incredibly romantic.” Every detail was planned to perfection, and Joshua couldn’t have been happier.
Seungcheol found himself standing by Joshua’s side, showing him the finalized plans on his tablet. Joshua’s eyes lit up as he scrolled through the pictures, the excitement bubbling over as he looked at the place Seungcheol had booked for the proposal.
“This is perfect Cheol-ah,” Joshua said, his voice full of awe. “Jeonghannie’s going to love it. I… I don’t even know how to thank you, Cheol-ah.”
Seungcheol smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me, Shua-yah,” he said softly, watching as Joshua’s face lit up. “I’m just happy to help. You two deserve this.”
Joshua turned to him, his expression softening. “Seriously, though. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you, Cheol.”
Seungcheol shrugged, forcing himself to smile brighter. “Hey, I know Jeonghannie better than anyone, right? It had to be perfect.”
Joshua laughed at that, the sound light and full of excitement, but all Seungcheol could do was watch him—watch the way his whole face lit up when he talked about the proposal, watch how genuinely happy he was at the thought of spending the rest of his life with Jeonghan.
And despite everything, despite the crushing ache in his chest, Seungcheol was happy for them. He really was. He had always known that if anyone deserved happiness, it was Jeonghan and Joshua. They were good for each other—perfect for each other in a way that Seungcheol couldn’t even deny.
But that didn’t make it hurt any less.
At night, when he was alone in his apartment, Seungcheol sat on the floor of his bedroom, staring at the open suitcase in front of him. His clothes were piled in neatly folded stacks around him, ready to be packed. His plane ticket to New York sat on the desk, the departure date only a few weeks away.
It was real. He was really doing this.
The thought of leaving was terrifying, in a way. New York was a whole new world, and as much as Seungcheol tried to focus on the excitement of expanding his business, he couldn’t ignore the reason he was really going. He wasn’t going for work. He was going because he couldn’t stay here, couldn’t be the third wheel in his own life anymore.
He couldn’t stay and watch the people he loved more than anything get married, build a life together, and leave him behind. It was too much.
But then there were moments—like earlier that evening, standing next to Joshua as they went over the proposal plans—when Seungcheol wondered if he was doing the right thing. Would leaving really solve anything? Would it make the pain go away? Or was he just running, hiding from something he couldn’t escape?
Seungcheol let out a breath, shaking his head as he shoved another stack of clothes into the suitcase. It didn’t matter. He had already made up his mind.
He was leaving.
For now, though, he had to keep up appearances. The proposal was less than a week away, and Seungcheol had promised to help. He had thrown himself into the preparations with everything he had, distracting himself with the details, focusing on the little things like flower arrangements and candle placements. It was easier that way. Easier than thinking about the fact that, in a few weeks, he’d be gone.
The night before the proposal, Seungcheol sat with Joshua in the apartment, going over the final details one last time. Joshua’s excitement was contagious, his hands practically shaking as he talked about how perfect everything was going to be.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Joshua said, his voice full of wonder as he looked down at the ring he’d picked out for Jeonghan. “I’ve been planning this for so long, and it’s finally here.”
Seungcheol smiled, his heart clenching in his chest. “You’re going to be great. Jeonghannie’s going to love it.”
Joshua looked up at him, his expression soft. “Thank you, Cheol-ah. Really. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
Seungcheol just nodded, his smile still in place. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
But even as he said the words, he knew that soon, he wouldn’t be there anymore. He wouldn’t be able to be their best friend, their support, their third wheel. Not from the other side of the world.
And maybe that was for the best.
The rooftop was perfect, exactly the way Seungcheol had envisioned it. The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the night sky, casting a warm hue over the intimate setup, the city lights twinkling in the distance. The violinist played softly in the corner, the music floating through the air like something out of a dream. Everything was just as it should be, everything was flawless.
Except for the weight in Seungcheol’s chest, the same ache that had been there for months now, only sharper tonight, heavier. He had known it would be difficult, watching Joshua propose to Jeonghan, knowing that this was the moment his two best friends would take the next step in their lives together. He had prepared himself for the pain, had steeled himself for the heartache.
But nothing could have prepared him for how suffocating it felt now.
Joshua had asked Seungcheol to be there, personally, insisting that he needed him by his side for this. “You’re part of this, Cheol-ah,” Joshua had said, his eyes earnest. “You’ve always been the most important person in our lives. I can’t imagine doing this without you.”
Seungcheol had agreed, of course. How could he not? Even as his heart broke over and over again, he would never deny Joshua and Jeonghan the happiness they deserved. And so, there he stood, just a few steps away, the cake he had prepared waiting on the table beside him. The ring, a simple but beautiful band Joshua had chosen with Seungcheol’s help, sat nestled in its velvet box, ready for the moment. Seungcheol had gone with him to pick it out, his heart twisting painfully when Joshua had realized that Seungcheol and Jeonghan had the same ring size. Of course they did.
Now, as Seungcheol watched, the moment he had been dreading unfolded before him.
Joshua was speaking softly, his hand wrapped around Jeonghan’s, his eyes filled with so much love that it made Seungcheol’s chest tighten painfully. Jeonghan was smiling, looking at Joshua like he was the only person in the world, his eyes shining with adoration. They were perfect together, and Seungcheol had always known that.
But watching it now, seeing Joshua’s hand trembling slightly, seeing Jeonghan’s wide, startled eyes as he realized what was happening, Seungcheol felt something break inside him. The heaviness in his heart, the familiar ache of heartbreak, was there. But tonight, it was different. It wasn’t just emotional pain. It was physical, almost suffocating. His chest felt tight, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he tried to steady himself.
You’ve got this, he told himself, repeating the words like a mantra. Just get through tonight. It’s almost over.
Joshua was dropping to one knee now, his voice soft and sweet as he asked Jeonghan to marry him. Jeonghan’s hand flew to his mouth, a gasp of surprise escaping his lips as tears welled up in his eyes. It was the signal. The moment Seungcheol had rehearsed with Joshua so many times. His cue to step in, to bring the cake and present the ring.
But as Seungcheol took his first step toward them, something strange happened. His heart, already racing, suddenly began to pound in his chest, too fast, too hard. His vision blurred for a moment, the world around him tilting unsteadily. He stopped, blinking rapidly, trying to clear the fog from his mind.
What’s happening?
He took another step, but the strange sensation only grew worse. His skin felt hot and cold at the same time, a wave of dizziness crashing over him. His hands trembled as he gripped the cake platter, and for the first time, he felt like he might actually collapse. His legs were heavy, his body sluggish, as if something inside him was pulling him down, dragging him under.
Joshua’s voice was a blur in the distance, Jeonghan’s soft laughter ringing in his ears, but it all felt so far away now. The tightness in his chest worsened, and with each breath he took, it felt like the air was being squeezed from his lungs. He was just a few steps away from them, but every movement felt like a struggle. His vision swam again, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears.
No. Not now. Please, not now.
But then, without warning, his legs gave out beneath him.
The cake slipped from his hands, crashing to the ground with a muted thud. And then everything around him tilted and spun, the world a blur of light and shadow. He heard Joshua’s startled cry, Jeonghan’s voice rising in alarm, but the sounds were distant, muffled, like they were coming from the other side of a wall.
He tried to stay upright, tried to force his body to move, but it was too late. His knees buckled, and before he knew it, he was collapsing to the ground, his body limp and heavy. The last thing he heard before the darkness took him was the sound of his name, Joshua and Jeonghan calling out to him, their voices filled with panic.
Then, everything went black.
Seungcheol woke to the steady beep of a heart monitor and the distant murmur of voices. His body felt heavy, his head groggy, as if he were swimming through thick fog. He blinked slowly, his vision hazy, the harsh fluorescent lights overhead making him squint. His mind struggled to catch up, trying to piece together where he was and how he had gotten here.
The last thing he remembered was Joshua on one knee, Jeonghan’s soft gasp of surprise, and then… nothing. The world had gone dark.
Now, as his eyes slowly adjusted, he saw the familiar stark whiteness of hospital walls surrounding him, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling his nose. A team of doctors and nurses stood around him, one of them leaning over him, their face a blur as they moved closer.
“Seungcheol-ssi?” a voice said, cutting through the fog. “Can you hear me?”
He blinked again, forcing his brain to process the words. “Y-yeah,” he mumbled, his voice weak and hoarse. “I’m… where…?”
“You’re in the hospital,” the doctor said gently. “You collapsed earlier, and you’ve been unconscious for a few hours. How are you feeling?”
Seungcheol frowned, trying to remember what had happened. His heart had been racing, his chest tight, and then everything had gone dark. But why? Was it just exhaustion? Stress? He’d been feeling off for a while now, but nothing like this.
“Dizzy,” he admitted, rubbing a hand over his face. “Tired.”
The doctor nodded, glancing down at the tablet in her hands. Her expression was calm, but there was something there, something in the tightness of her lips that made Seungcheol’s stomach twist with unease.
“Seungcheol-ssi,” the doctor began carefully, “I need to ask you a few questions. It might feel a little strange, but it’s important.”
Seungcheol nodded, his throat dry. “Okay.”
“Have you engaged in any sexual intercourse recently?”
The question hit him like a bucket of cold water, snapping him out of his fog. His head jerked up, his brows knitting together in confusion. “W-what?”
“Sexual intercourse,” the doctor repeated. “Recently. It’s important for the results we’ve found.”
Seungcheol blinked, his thoughts racing. Sex? What did that have to do with anything? He hadn’t—no, wait. His mind flashed back to that night. His birthday night. They had all gotten so drunk, too drunk to remember much of anything. But there had been… something. Jeonghan’s teasing smile, Joshua’s soft laugh, the three of them tangled together in the middle of their bed.
Had they...? No. It couldn’t be. They were just drunk. It was just…
The doctor’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Do you recall having unprotected intercourse?”
Seungcheol’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at her, his mind spinning. “I—I don’t know. I mean, there was this night... but I don’t—why are you asking me this?”
The doctor exchanged a glance with one of the nurses before she looked back at him, her expression softening slightly. “We ran some tests, Seungcheol-ssi. Based on your symptoms and the results...”
She hesitated for a moment, checking the tablet in her hands again before continuing.
“You’re pregnant.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and surreal. Seungcheol stared at the doctor, his mind going completely blank, as if the world had just stopped turning. He blinked, once, twice, trying to process what she had just said.
“I’m… what?”
“You’re pregnant,” the doctor repeated gently. “Approximately three months along, based on the ultrasound and blood work. I understand this must be a shock, but—”
“No.” Seungcheol shook his head, his pulse roaring in his ears. “That’s not possible. I haven’t—there’s no way.”
But then, like a wave crashing over him, the memories from that night hit him all at once. The drinks. The laughter. The way they had ended up in bed together. And then the blurry, hazy recollection of that night, of Jeonghan and Joshua, and how they had all…
“No,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible now.
But deep down, in the pit of his stomach, he knew the truth. It was there, staring him in the face, undeniable. The one night that had slipped through his fingers, lost to the haze of alcohol and old habits, had changed everything.
He was pregnant.