Archive of Our Own

One thing about university students: they waste absolutely no time throwing a party. Zhang Hao caught wind of it by way of his new roommate Matthew, a buff, kind of stocky-looking guy who was extroverted and glaringly so; by the time Hao had finished arranging his fresh sheets and comforter over the twin bed on his side of the room, he already knew all about Matthew’s family, his best friend’s name, and the time he got dared to dry swallow a scoop of protein powder and ended up in the emergency room getting his back pounded on by a middle-aged nurse. 

Hao had absolutely no protest about Matthew’s yapping, in fact, he enjoyed it. It saved him from having to maneuver the awkward intricacies of icebreaking, and in any situation having to make small talk was always the greater evil. 

“By the way,” Matthew started, dumping an armload of clothes from his luggage onto his bed. “There’s this frat party going on tonight that me and Taerae are going to, so if you wanna come with that would be super cool too.”

“This early in the semester? School hasn’t even started yet,” Hao returned. 

“I know, right? But me and Taerae know one of the guys in the frat and he said it was gonna be fun. Besides, it’s not like we have anything better to do,” Matthew added. “No pressure, though, if you’d rather not. But the guys in that frat are pretty hot.”

Zhang Hao narrowed his eyes at his roommate, trying his best to fathom how exactly Matthew managed to find out he was into guys before he’d even said anything about it. Matthew caught his eye and smiled, a little sheepishly. 

“It’s kind of obvious,” he said, sounding a little rueful. “Either that or my gaydar’s getting better. Sorry if you’re like, not out or whatever, I didn’t mean to-”

Hao waved him away. “No, you’re all good. I’m very comfortable with myself.”

“Oh, good, good. Anyway, I’m going to go meet Taerae for dinner now, but I’ll text you the place in case you change your mind about the party, okay?” Matthew said, hopping around on one foot trying to get his sneaker on without undoing the laces. 

“Yeah, sure,” Zhang Hao answered, lying back in his freshly-made bed. “Thanks. See you later.”

“See you!”

The door closed behind Matthew, and the room was silent again. He liked his new roommate. There was always some level of risk, with random assignment, that he’d be forced to live with some axe murderer or psycho stalker or worse, someone who liked to watch videos at night without headphones on, but all things considered he felt like he’d lucked out. 

After all, he’d made himself a promise before starting university. He was going to leave his comfort zone behind, somehow, whether that meant he would step out of it of his own volition or be dragged. He would make the most of his freshman year, meet as many new friends as possible, and immerse himself in all the festivities that came with dorm life, no matter what it took. He’d even written it all down in the first page of the new planner he’d bought, that was now sitting in a stack on the table along with a bunch of other things he hadn’t gotten to arranging. Accountability was important, plus it never hurt to do some manifesting. 

Of course, studying was important too. But after spending the past three years topping every ranking chart in his high school major, he figured a well-deserved break was in order. 

A frat party didn’t sound like it would be his ‘thing’ in the slightest, but he checked himself with the realization that if he said that about everything before even trying it, he was going to end the year with nothing done. Besides, Matthew had said the guys from the frat were hot, and that was always a big plus no matter what the circumstances were. 

Right, Hao decided, he was going to go. A solid start to what he had high hopes would be the best freshman year ever. He was just going to go there, drink some alcohol, mingle around and make some new friends, and he was going to forget all about his ex and anything to do with h-

He sat up in bed and reached over to grab the planner from the table, took up a pen and added a line to the front page with determination. 

I will not think about Sung Hanbin.

There. He clicked the pen closed, shoved it between the pages of the planner and set it back down. Nothing said best freshman year ever more than leaving his ex in his past for good, right?

Zhanghao lay back down, threw his arm over his face, and sighed deeply. Who was he to blame? Himself, of course, always himself. Loving someone more than they loved him back was not a crime in any book, but that didn’t mean it felt any less like a punishment. And contrary to popular belief, time most certainly did not heal all wounds. 

Regardless, what had happened had happened, what was over was over. There’d been nowhere for him to put all his heartbreak down, no pocket deep enough to hold all his sorrow, but no one cared about that. Why should they? Hanbin had always been the more sociable one, the more popular one of them. There was no point trying to tell his side, and Hao didn’t try. He hadn’t wanted to turn people against Hanbin, back then, even if it meant gritting his teeth and quietly taking it when hallway gossip said he must have done something to screw it up, how could he fumble Sung Hanbin like that?

So he’d kept his head down, his hands full of broken glass, misery pooling in the imprints of the footsteps he left behind. The last few months of his high school life had slipped past him in that way, without him really noticing, blanketed by a sort of hopelessness that made everything feel like it was always fading away. It suffocated him. He‘d wondered, back then, if he would ever feel like his old self again. 

God, what a way to start the year.

Zhang Hao got back up out of bed, pulled a jacket on, checked to make sure his key card was in the pocket of his pants, and left decisively through the door without looking back. 

The inside of the frat house smelled like a mix of soju and cigarettes. He’d never seen anything like this before; students of the fine arts were not usually in the business of throwing rowdy house parties, and even if they were, he probably wouldn't have gone to them anyway. It was brighter than he’d expected, most of the house was lit apart from the stairwells leading upstairs. Someone he didn't manage to get a good look at handed him a plastic cup and someone else danced by with a bottle of soju two-thirds full, waving it in his direction to ask if he wanted some. 

Zhang Hao stretched his hand out so the other boy could fill his cup, giving a little nod of thanks. The music blasting through speakers in the corners, some fast-paced bass-boosted radio hit, was too loud for him to say much at all. He downed half of whatever was in his cup in one shot, wincing as it burned on the way down. 

The room he was standing in was adjacent to what looked to be a living room, though it was a little difficult to tell. All the furniture in the room had been pushed back against the walls to create a wide empty space in the middle, where a crowd of people were now dancing and laughing and looking very much entertained by each other. 

Hao took another sip of his soju. Even just standing here was wearing out his social battery fast. 

“Zhang Hao!”

His head snapped around as he heard someone’s shout above the sound of music and people. Matthew weaved his way through the people crowding the entryway of the house, one hand waving excitedly, one hand dragging someone behind him.

“You came!” he said cheerily, stopping in front of him. “Oh, this is Taerae, by the way, the one I told you about. Taerae, this is my roommate, the one I told you about.”

Zhang Hao downed the last of his soju and offered Taerae a handshake. “Hey, nice to meet you, I’m Zhang Hao. What’s your major?”

“Music!” Taerae answered, abandoning the handshake to dap him up instead. “What’s yours?”

Before Zhang Hao could answer, Matthew had taken them both by the hand, pulling them in the direction of the living room dance floor. 

“Come on! Enough chatting, this is a party!” he laughed, stopping only when they were fully surrounded by the dancing people. The music seemed to have gotten even louder now that he was standing amidst a crowd, it was now some electronica-style rap song with indiscernible lyrics. He physically swallowed the urge to cover his ears. 

Have fun, he reminded himself. Come on, you promised. He looked back at where Matthew and Taerae had been standing. The two of them had wasted no time getting into it; they were currently locked in what looked like a heated battle to see who could throw their back out the hardest. Zhang Hao laughed as he watched and swayed along to the pounding music. This was fine, he thought, fun, even. He was sure he had sustained some sort of short term hearing damage, but he wasn’t going to let that ruin his time. 

An elbow slammed against his lower back just then and he lost his balance for a second, stumbling a little, but a hand closed around his arm and pulled him back upright, and he regained his footing without missing too many beats. Zhang Hao turned to see who it was. For lack of better words to describe it, he felt his heart jump. 

The man standing in front of him, sandwiched between faceless people, was dressed in a black tank top, very decidedly fitted to his body. The lines of muscles running from his shoulders down to his arms were so defined they looked like pencil strokes on paper, and overhead lights cast a halo over the blonde hair that fell over his forehead. He glanced over at Hao and let go of the hand around his arm that’d been keeping him steady, a faint smile crossing his face. 

“Sorry,” he mouthed, before turning away. His eyes were stunningly piercing amidst the crowd of people. 

Fuck, he’s so hot. 

How exactly he ended up pressed against the wall in the hot man’s arms later on in the night, he couldn’t exactly remember. But as he gasped for breath between kisses, his hands trailing over shoulders so broad he was sure they were twice his size, he couldn’t find it in himself to care about how he got there, only that he was in fact there. 

A warm, solid palm slid over the dip of his waist, moving slowly downwards to slip under his shirt, and he felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he tried to focus his thoughts enough to keep his legs from turning to jelly under the other man’s touch. 

The man leaned close, breath warm against his neck. His hair smelled like cigarettes, Hao couldn’t tell if it was because he smoked them or because of the lingering smell of it everywhere in this frat house. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered lowly, his fingers wandering over the flat of Hao’s stomach. “You taste so good, did you know that?”

Zhang Hao wondered, as he blinked slowly in the dim light of the stairwell, exactly how wrecked he already looked, just from making out and hardly anything more. He wasn’t the kind of person who often made bad decisions, but right now he was so far beyond any sort of rational thinking that if the man asked him to jump off a bridge with him, he would probably follow without hesitation. 

To hell with everything , he thought, pulling the other man impossibly closer by the belt loops of his jeans. Here’s to new beginnings. 

He had zero memory of making it back to his room last night, but he awoke on top of his comforter in the clothes he’d worn to the party, which meant evidently he’d been coherent and sensible enough to find his way back. All things considered, he supposed that was a win. 

He tried to sit up and immediately gave up, wincing at how sore his legs were as he lay back down. Oh god, he’d hooked up with Hot Man From Frat Party. Not even a week into university and he was already losing all his principles. 

But on second thought, as the image of Hot Man From Frat Party flashed through his mind again, he decided there was nothing he regretted about it. It wasn’t like he was any sort of conservative, anyway, and in his view hooking up with Hot Man aligned perfectly with the promises written in his planner. Altogether, he considered his first venture in pursuit of Making The Most of College a complete success. 

It was a pity he didn’t even know Hot Man’s name. They hadn’t done much talking at all, actually; he was sure Hot Man didn’t know his name either, but that was that. Thousands of students lived on campus. The chances of them ever crossing paths again weren’t high, and Zhang Hao didn’t mind that, in view of the most important rule he’d imposed before coming to college.

It was an overarching rule, one which formed the cornerstone of his entire Making The Most Of College plan, namely: absolutely no falling in love. The rule was a simple one, just that, and exactly that. After everything that had happened the last time, he’d be damned if he was stupid enough to let it happen again. Besides, the idea of ever letting his guard down again abhorred him so much that he figured even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to. Love was a weapon. Most people didn’t learn that until they’d already been wounded beyond repair. And now that he’d learned, he was going to make sure he never forgot.

No, the rule had been the right choice. No more. He’d make friends, work hard and have fun, and he’d do everything he wanted and leave no regrets, but he was determined not to date anyone, and extra extra determined not to fall in love again. He’d always been the independent sort, even growing up, he’d never been the kind who wanted or needed the constant company or support of someone to get by. And sure being in his previous relationship had changed that, but he was a firm believer that if you could make a habit you could break it, too. All it took was discipline, and if he was disciplined enough to face a wall and practice the same piece so many times his fingers bled red into the strings of his violin, then surely he was disciplined enough to do this. 

Zhang Hao saw Hot Man From Frat Party again a week later, at the dining hall of the building he lived in. As he waited in line with a tray in hand for a plate of kimchi fried rice with a fried egg on top, he caught a glimpse of platinum blonde hair, which by itself was not uncommon, but the pair of shoulders attached to it was broad, and as the head turned to look towards the far side of the dining hall, he felt his heart skip a beat in recognition. 

So Hot Man possibly lived in his building. He was undecided on whether that would prove to be a good thing or a bad thing, but in any case it never hurt to have attractive people around to look forward to seeing. Besides, he had no intention of pursuing anything with that guy anyway. That night had just been a one night thing. Hot Man was hot, and as far as Hao could remember through all the soju he’d downed that night he was in fact very good in bed, but he was done attaching strings. 

He could do it, right? Of course he could. 

Hot Man appeared in front of him again three days later, except this time he was much closer, quite literally right in front of him in the dinner line at the dining hall. Zhang Hao looked up from his phone, froze, and then proceeded to deliberate for an entire minute over whether to say hi or act like he didn’t recognise him, but Hot Man turned back and caught sight of him, and he gave up on having any choice in the matter. 

“Hey,” Hot Man said, turning around to face him. “It’s you.”

He was dressed casually today, in a hoodie and a matching pair of gray sweats. He leaned casually against the pillar, fingers fiddling with the aglets of his hood as he looked Zhang Hao up and down. 

“Hey,” Zhang Hao said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Didn’t, uh, didn’t think I’d see you again. You live around here?”

Hot Man gestured upwards. “I live here,” he said, amused. “Tenth floor.”

Zhang Hao nodded. Two floors below his and Matthew’s room. “I know it’s kinda funny to do this now but…” he trailed off, sighing shortly. “I’m Zhang Hao. What’s your name?”

Hot Man laughed out loud for a second. “Nice to meet you again, Zhang Hao,” he said, smiling. “I’m Kim Jiwoong.”

“Kim Jiwoong…” Hao repeated, nodding slowly. “Nice to meet you. What do you study?”

“Acting,” Jiwoong answered, taking two trays from where they’d reached the front of the line, handing one to Zhang Hao. “Not porn acting, in case you’re wondering.”

Hao froze for a second, caught off guard, then found himself laughing. “I wasn’t wondering, actually. But porn actors worldwide should be thanking their lucky stars you chose a different career path.”

“That good, huh?” Jiwoong opened the fridge and took a bottle of green tea, placing it down on his tray. “Hey, I’ll take my compliments where I can get them.”

“I’m sure you’re self aware, so I won’t boost your ego any further,” Zhang Hao retorted lightheartedly, picking up his cutlery on his way out of the line. As he turned to leave, Jiwoong stopped him. 

“Um, before you go,” Jiwoong started, balancing his tray on one hand to fumble for something in the pocket of his sweats. “Can I get your number? I know you live in this building but, still…”

He fished his phone out of his back pocket with some skilful maneuvering, offering it to Hao. Zhang Hao looked at it and gave himself five seconds to gather the courage to say no. 

“Okay.”

Hao took the phone and typed his number in, cursing at himself in his head. How was it that he’d caved so easily? Was his supposed ‘discipline’ really so fragile?

“My name’s Zhang Hao,” he said again, as he handed the phone back to Jiwoong. “Just in case you forgot.”

“Oh? With a face like that, I don’t think I could ever forget.” Jiwoong smiled and slid his phone back into his pocket. “See you around.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd of students. Hao stood where he was, running his hand over his face, partly out of frustration and partly to hide the blush that he knew was coloring his cheeks. He’d never been good at saying no to people. But there was still hope, he reasoned with himself, as he searched for Matthew and Taerae’s table amidst the sea of other students. Maybe Jiwoong would forget to text him, and that would be the end, and he wouldn’t even have to worry about it at all. 

“Who was that?” Matthew asked as soon as he sat down, smiling conspiratorially. 

Zhang Hao gave him a stern look. “No one.”

“Really? That guy’s pretty hot.”

His first thought was to say “Don’t say that”. His second thought was to not say anything at all. Shoving a spoonful of rice and chicken into his mouth, he went with the second. 

He, Matthew and Taerae quickly became fast friends. Matthew was his roommate and the natural proximity combined with his effervescent personality had broken the ice between them with ease from the very start, and Taerae was a music major which meant he and Hao shared a couple of classes a week and walked to and from campus together. 

He liked both of them, he really did. They never made him feel like a third wheel even though the two of them had known each other and been good friends since middle school, in fact, they had taken every opportunity in the past two weeks to drag him out of the dorm room, whether it was just to have bagels and iced coffee at a cafe near campus or to see a new movie at the cinema. They had, and Hao appreciated it dearly, proven themselves both vital contributors to the Making The Most Of College plan.

Someone called him later that night, as he was lying in bed scrolling through social media. He’d contemplated ignoring it; he didn’t like answering calls from unknown numbers, but as he moved to reject the call he remembered he’d just given out his number to Jiwoong earlier that night.

“Hello?”

“Hey, uh, is this Zhang Hao?”

“No, sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong number,” Hao said, covering his mouth so Jiwoong wouldn’t hear him giggle. 

There was a beat of silence. “Damn, really?”

“No, I was just lying, it’s me. What’s up?”

Jiwoong laughed softly, sounding relieved. “That’s mean…for a second I really thought you’d given me a fake number.”

“Do I look like the kind of person who’d do that?”

“I don’t know, maybe. Pretty privilege makes some people unkind.”

“You know what, you’re not wrong,” he conceded, sitting up so he could hold the phone to his ear more comfortably. 

“Who’s that?” Matthew asked from where he was lying on his bed across the room. 

“No one.”

“Oh, that guy. Have fun.”

Zhang Hao rolled his eyes in retaliation and turned his attention back to the call. “Sorry, that was my roommate. You were saying?”

“Nothing, actually. I just called to see if you actually gave me your real number. Are you busy?”

“Nope, I’ve been spending the past hour lying on my bed doing nothing useful.”

“Then…by any chance, do you want to go get some ice cream or something?”

Hao raised an eyebrow. Jiwoong was surprisingly forward. 

“Sure. Let’s meet downstairs in five?”

“Okay. See you in a bit.”

He saved Jiwoong’s contact with a star emoji next to the name before putting his phone down. He’d already showered for the day and by no means intended to put on anything special now, but he changed into a fresh shirt and pair of sweats anyway. 

Matthew looked up as he headed for the door, taking one earphone out of his ear and pausing the show he was watching. “Where are you going?”

“To get ice cream,” Zhang Hao answered. “Don’t feel like you have to wait up for me.”

“Ice cream? With who?”

Hao opened the door, sliding his key card into his pocket. “No one.”

Matthew laughed to himself as the door clicked closed. “That guy moves fast…”

Jiwoong was already at the lift lobby of their building, by the time Hao got downstairs. 

“Did I keep you waiting?” Hao asked, a little awkwardly. He’d never been one to start conversations, more often than not he only continued them. 

“No, I just got here too,” Jiwoong said, smiling. “Shall we go?”

The nearest place that sold ice cream on campus was about ten minutes’ walk away, a route that weaved between all the other dorm buildings and through the big patch of open lawn in front of campus everyone called the Quad for brevity. There weren’t many people around at this time; it was a little past midnight, and most students were usually back in their rooms by now. 

The path connecting all the dorm buildings to the campus was dotted with streetlights that cast pools of warm glow over the ground. It was autumn again, he thought to himself. The night wind was cool, but not cold enough that he could feel it through his hoodie. 

He thought about the last two years of his life. Two autumns ago he’d been nose-deep in the happiest relationship he could ever imagine, the sort people watched movies about, the sort people wished they had when they listened to love songs. All he could remember of last autumn was knowing everything that went wrong must be his fault somehow, a horrible feeling that stuck in his throat like syrup, like a rainy day that never let up. 

Fall was a bittersweet time, and falling was a bittersweet memory. It’d been more than a year now, since he’d had to unlearn everything he’d taught himself about love. The rest of the world had moved on since then and the seasons had come full circle, but maybe there was still some part of him that wasn’t done unlearning. 

He took a deep breath and forced himself to stop reminiscing. It wasn’t doing him any good. 

“So,” he started. “Why’d you ask me out?”

“Because I want to get to know you.”

“You’re straightforward.” 

Jiwoong shrugged. “I don’t like wasting time. I know what I want.”

Hao nodded slowly, watching his shoes dip into the illumination of the streetlights and back out again with every other step. “Then, in the spirit of being straightforward,” he started. “I don’t…date. As in, I’m not looking for a relationship. Sorry if I’m disappointing you.” 

He felt a weight lift from his chest as the words left his mouth. Leading people on was a Class A level dick move, something he wasn’t going to be party to if he could help it. 

“You don’t date?” Jiwoong fixed him with a bemused look. “What, commitment issues or something?”

Hao made a face. The opposite of commitment issues, more like. He’d committed, given it his all and in the end it’d been too much, he’d been too much. “No, not that,” he answered, trying to keep his tone lighthearted. “Have you seen the amount of dramas I’ve started and finished? Definitely not that.”

“Then, what is it? What’s holding you back?” 

He frowned, trying his best to look completely serious. “I just don’t think love is real.”

Jiwoong laughed out loud, caught off guard. “What’s got a pretty boy like you so disillusioned?”

“Don’t flirt with me while I’m trying to tell you I don’t believe in love,” Hao protested. Jiwoong raised his hands in playful surrender. 

“Okay, okay. I’m listening, I promise. Tell me why.”

Hao sighed deeply. “There’s nothing much to it. Just…been there, done that, he broke up with me because I needed too much from him and then started talking to some other guy like immediately after, so…I’m done with all that stuff.”

“So you dated one shitty guy and-”

“He wasn’t shitty,” Hao interjected. 

“Kinda sounds like he was.” Jiwoong narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re still defending him.”

“Force of habit,” Hao gave in, shrugging. “I guess he’s just that kind of person.” He thought about the number of times he’d said that over the course of their relationship; when he’d had a violin recital and Hanbin had missed it because he promised some friends he’d go watch a movie with them, when Hanbin had been two hours late to their sixth monthsary dinner because he’d been held up helping an upperclassman proofread his college admissions essay, god, if he started thinking about it now, it’d never end. 

Just that kind of person, he’d told his friends, his parents, himself. What kind of person? The kind who’d put everything under the sun above his relationship because he knew his pathetic, besotted boyfriend would take whatever he got. Just like a street dog jumping at scraps thrown on the pavement. 

He winced at the mental comparison. It wasn’t pleasant to think about, for sure, but thinking of the street dog couldn’t possibly be any worse than being the street dog, and he’d already done his time as the street dog for a year and then some and made it out somewhat unscathed. 

Hao scoffed, and put the idea out of his head. Even now, he was still making excuses for him.

“So you let one shitty guy convince you no one else was worth a shot,” Jiwoong said evenly. He didn’t sound like he was trying to be mean. 

“Learning from mistakes is important,” Hao shrugged. “It’s a survival instinct. If humans didn’t learn from their mistakes they’d have been extinct thousands of years ago.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jiwoong conceded. “Besides, everything you lose is a step you take.”

“Quoting Taylor Swift now?”

“Oh, is that where that came from? I thought I made that up myself.”

They reached the ice cream shop just then. Hao didn’t even realize they’d already walked so far. 

“It’s my treat,” Jiwoong said, holding the door open for him. “Pick whatever you want.”

Hao smiled. “You don’t have to be nice to me because you feel bad for me.”

“I don’t feel bad for you. Can’t I be nice to you for no reason?”

“One scoop of honeycomb, please, in a cone,” Hao said to the employee at the counter, gesturing to the flavor in the display, before turning back to give Jiwoong a little teasing glare. “You don’t feel bad for me? That’s cold.”

“Caramel for me please, in a cone as well.” Jiwoong glanced over at Hao and laughed, swiping his card at the payment terminal. “Yeah? I’m sorry. Let me buy you an ice cream to make it up to you.”

Hao looked a little flabbergasted, but protested no further. “I can’t decide if I won or lost this battle,” he said, as he thanked the counter staff and took his ice cream. 

“You got ice cream for free and you still think you lost?” Jiwoong retorted playfully. “Someone’s high maintenance…”

“Shut up, I am not. ”

The ice cream shop was a small one with no seating and the two of them left, finding a bench somewhere along the edge of the Quad to sit at while they ate. 

Hao sat quietly, licking at his ice cream like a satisfied cat. “So, now that you know my entire life story,” he began. “Your turn to talk.”

“I’m single,” Jiwoong answered, offering Hao his ice cream. “Wanna try some of this?”

Hao leaned over and licked some off the top . It was good. “Just that? No backstory, or anything?” he pressed. “How many exes?”

“One.”

“How long ago?”

Jiwoong frowned. “Let me think. One, two…” he trailed off. “Wait, I’m a sophomore now. Two years? Yeah, about there.”

“Wow. It’s been a while,” Hao remarked. “What happened?”

“He, uh, he passed away. Summer before our final year of high school,” Jiwoong said. “Septic shock, from a wound he got when we were out surfing at the beach earlier that week. It happened so fast, he was gone two days later. We would have been together for three years, that November.”

Hao was silent for a good few moments. “Jesus, I’m so sorry. I’ve been complaining this whole time and- I’m so sorry. I hope you’re doing better.”

“I am,” Jiwoong answered, reassuring. “It’s been a long time. There was a time where I missed him so much it felt like I couldn’t keep living, but I’ve moved on now. Life goes on, right? I couldn’t stay there forever.”

“No one would’ve blamed you if you had.”

“I know. But it’s all over now. I’ve made my peace with everything that happened. Besides, he would have hated it if I spent the rest of my life moping over him.”

Jiwoong glanced over at him for a second, looking into his eyes. “Stop pitying me.”

“I’m not.”

“Good, now we’ve both lied to each other. Can we call it even?”

Hao found himself laughing, unexpectedly, and he swiped at Jiwoong with the loose end of his hoodie sleeve. Jiwoong was just so strangely easy to talk to. They’d spoken a grand total of, like four times and the first one hardly counted, but all the same he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was talking to someone whom he’d known forever. 

“You know,” Hao began slowly, tilting his head back so he could look at the sky. The lights around campus disturbed the view a little, but if he squinted he could still see the faint splatters of stars. “It’d probably be better if you stayed away from me.”

“Better for you or for me?”

“For you. Maybe for me, too. I don’t know.”

“Tell me why.”

“Because I think there’s still a part of me that’s messed up.” The lights were too bright, and looking up was beginning to hurt his neck. Hao turned his gaze back down, watching those weird patches of color flash across his field of vision. “And I don’t want anyone else to be collateral damage. It’s not fair.”

Jiwoong studied him for a long minute. Hao swallowed the urge to hide his face; something about Jiwoong was unsettlingly perceptive. “You’re afraid.”

“No, I’m not.” He knew he was. How could he not be?

“Happens more often than you think. People sit in burning houses and think the whole world’s on fire.”

“Didn’t know you were a psychologist too,” he retorted, playful. 

“We study emotions and how people express them all the time in acting,” Jiwoong answered. “Body language, facial expressions, verbal inflections…”

Hao made a face and pulled his hood tighter around his head. “Creepy. Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

Jiwoong smiled. “Call it what you want, but I can see right through you.”

By the time Hao got back to his room that night, it was already past three in the morning. The lights were all still on and Matthew was dead asleep, sprawled out on his stomach with his mouth open and his earphones still in his ears. Hao leaned down, plucked his earphones out and moved his Macbook from his bed over to the nightstand so Matthew wouldn’t roll over and hit his head in the middle of the night. 

He turned off the light, lay back in bed and stared at the ceiling. He could still taste a mix of caramel and honeycomb ice cream in his mouth. 

So maybe having ice cream with Jiwoong had turned into sitting on a bench and talking to him for hours, and maybe talking for hours had turned into making out for hours, but so what? At least making out with each other hadn’t turned into sleeping with each other this time. A splendid exercise of sense and self control, if he said so himself.  

Although, he didn’t quite remember how they’d managed to steer the conversation from dead ex to kissing at the Quad in the middle of the night. Looking back, that must have been a weird fucking segue. 

He had to admit, though, that he was really hilariously bad at the whole no falling in love thing. He tried to remind himself that even regularly hooking up with someone didn’t necessarily mean falling in love with them, but was quickly humbled by the self awareness that he was not one of those people who could mess around like that with no consequences. Not that he had anything against it, but he just wasn’t built like that. He was going to fall for Jiwoong if he wasn’t careful, and he was damn sure not being anywhere near careful. 

Hao sighed, rolled over and buried his face into the pillow. He was smart and he knew it, but bad decisions just made themselves when he was around Jiwoong. And everything was fine up till now and no one had gotten hurt, but who was to say the same would happen every time? He wasn’t the kind of person who could handle being friends with benefits; at some point he was going to want more and Jiwoong would undoubtedly say yes, but what then? Sooner or later Jiwoong was going to realize he was more trouble than he was worth, and then he would leave. 

It always came back to this. His very existence felt like an imposition. 

Maybe the way to fix this was to prove himself, to prove his point. Maybe all he needed to do was show Jiwoong that he really was just too much of a bother to keep around. Rational people made rational decisions, right? And Jiwoong was sensible. As long as he could convince Jiwoong that nothing he brought to the table was worth the trouble it took to keep him there, Jiwoong would stop thinking about him, and it would be for his own good, too. 

And Hao would be spared from having to hear once more that he was too demanding, that he was asking for too much, because this time all his cards would have been on the table from the beginning. He’d be spared from having to hear that Jiwoong “couldn’t do it anymore”. Because Jiwoong would have known from the very beginning that Hao was no better, would have known from the start that he was selfish and difficult, that he needed to feel loved to know he was loved, that he always wanted more than he got. 

And Jiwoong would unfortunately be collateral damage, like he’d warned, but at least he would leave after and not look back, and everything would be over once more. No smart man liked to fight wars. Surely there were easier people out there to love than him. 

You know what? I’m thinking too much. 

Jiwoong hadn’t asked him out or confessed or said anything hinting that he wanted to be anything more than good friends. Hao was just overthinking it, as usual, trying to plot ten moves ahead when the game hadn’t even started. 

He turned over to face the wall, pulled his comforter up around his shoulders, and went to sleep. The next time he saw Jiwoong was a couple of days later. They’d kept in touch over text though conversation had been limited since that night; Hao was a notoriously bad texter and Jiwoong was just the sort that hardly looked at his phone for any reason other than actually making urgent calls, so in a way neither of them really minded too much. 

Hao was sitting in the dining hall towards the tail end of the allotted breakfast hours, a plate of waffles and scrambled eggs in front of him growing cold. It was destined to be a bad day from the start; he’d been so groggy falling asleep last night that he’d somehow entered 0730 into his calculator instead of his phone’s alarm clock app and had woken up completely disoriented halfway through his first lecture period, late enough that even if he got ready and rushed over to campus as soon as possible, the most he’d catch was the last half hour. As such, he’d made the unhappy decision to just give up on it altogether and get some breakfast before his next class. It was the first class he’d missed all year, but he didn’t like it regardless. 

“Can I sit here?”

Hao looked up. Jiwoong stood opposite him, a tray in hand, blonde hair falling into his face. 

“Yeah, sure,” he sighed, moving his tray a little closer so Jiwoong had space for his. 

Jiwoong sat down, frowning. “What’s got you so down?”

“Nothing much, just overslept my alarm and missed my lecture,” Hao answered. “You’re probably going to say it’s no big deal, aren’t you?”

“Well, it isn’t,” Jiwoong smiled. “But it’s a slippery slope between missing one class and becoming a delinquent dropout, so it’s good you’re conscientious.”

Hao pouted and stabbed his fork into a stray piece of egg. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Forgive me. You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

He huffed and looked away, pushing leftover waffle around his plate. “I just don’t want my grades to start slipping. I mean, I topped my major all three years of high school, so I’m definitely destined for greater things, right?” he finished jokingly, with a little laugh. Being around Jiwoong was enough to lift his mood on its own, apparently. 

“You are,” Jiwoong nodded. “Destined for great things, I mean. Don’t think too much about it. Lectures are suggestions at best.”

Hao looked at Jiwoong a little despairingly. “If I flunk my first semester at college because I missed a few ‘suggestions’, I’ll lose my shit.”

The outlook of his day was beginning to improve after he left the dining hall, but a few swipes on his social media feed a couple of hours later was enough to bring it crashing back down again. 

Thank heavens Jiwoong was in his room right then. Hao hadn’t even thought about texting and asking before coming down. 

“Hey, everything okay?”

“No, everything’s going wrong today,” Hao answered, sighing deeply. “Sorry. I just need something to take my mind off things. Are you busy?”

”Not too busy for you,” Jiwoong said, standing back from the doorway. “Come in.”

As luck had it, Jiwoong’s roommate lived close to campus and often went home instead of coming back to the dorm, meaning they had the room to themselves, as Jiwoong did on most days. And of course, one thing led to another; Hao didn’t seem to be in a talking mood, and Jiwoong would have done anything to get that despondent look off his face. Whatever the actual problem was, sex was probably not going to fix it, but at the very least it would quite literally take Hao’s mind off it, and Jiwoong figured that was good enough for the time being. 

Hao lay on Jiwoong’s bed after, legs entangled in the blanket, his arms barely finding their way out of the hoodie he’d borrowed. He was sleepy, as he usually was after all the exertion, but not yet asleep. 

“So,” Jiwoong started, rifling through his drawer for a fresh shirt. “What actually happened?”

Hao made a face, tapped on his phone a couple times and offered it to Jiwoong. “See for yourself.”

Jiwoong looked down at the screen as he pulled his shirt over his head. “That’s him? The one in the picture holding the phone?”

“Yup. And that’s the guy he got with after we broke up. They were joint valedictorians last year at graduation.”

“Didn’t you say they got together before you graduated?”

“They did,” Hao answered. “This is a hard launch, I guess. Whatever, it was just pissing me off.”

“They’re good looking,” Jiwoong remarked, handing the phone back to Hao, who sent a feeble glare in his direction. 

“I know. Don’t make my mood worse than it already is.”

“You’re still in a bad mood after all that?” Jiwoong laughed softly, sitting down on the bed next to him. “Do we need to go one more round? I mean I’m not complaining, but-”

“Shut up,” Hao retorted, swinging a pillow at Jiwoong. “No more rounds. You’re going to kill me at this rate.”

“Eh, it’s not a bad way to go.”

“For you, maybe.”

“So, what about it? I thought you were over that guy.”

“I am, it’s just annoying,” Hao sighed. “For what it’s worth, I hope he treats his new boyfriend better than he treated me.”

Jiwoong nodded with approval. “You’re mature.”

“No, I was just trying something, and I don’t like it,” Hao retorted. “Hope they break up.”

Jiwoong reached out to brush hair out of Hao’s eyes. “You don’t actually mean that.”

“Maybe not. I’m a complicated person.”

“Oh trust me, I know.”

He’d knocked out in Jiwoong’s bed soon after. By the time Jiwoong shook him gently awake, it was half past six. 

“Do you want something to eat? I can bring it up for you if you don’t feel like going down to the dining hall,” Jiwoong asked softly. 

“No, I should be waking up anyway, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight,” Hao mumbled, still groggy. “I’ll come, just gimme a min…”

Another ten minutes of rolling around passed until Hao finally decided he was awake enough to actually get out of bed. He spent a few seconds looking around for the pants he’d come down in before Jiwoong opened a drawer and threw a pair of sweats at him, a matching set with the hoodie he was already wearing. 

“You’ve got a bunch of these sets, huh?” Hao remarked, as he pulled the pants on. 

“They’re comfortable,” Jiwoong shrugged. “I don’t like trying too hard day to day.”

“Fair enough. Let’s go.”

They bumped into Matthew and Taerae as they were looking for seats in the crowded dining hall in the middle of the dinner rush hour. From a distance away, Hao watched Matthew lean over and whisper something into Taerae’s ear, and Taerae’s expression brightened up so visibly it was almost comical. 

“Who are you looking at?” Jiwoong asked casually, glancing over in the same direction. 

“That’s my roommate,” Hao said. “And the third honorary occupant of our room.”

“I think I know him,” Jiwoong squinted into the distance. “He’s the guy you were with at the party that night, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’s the one who invited me, kinda.”

“Oh, figures. I thought I’d seen him before somewhere.”

Matthew and Taerae had him cornered later that night, when he finally went back up to his room. 

“So…” Matthew started, spinning around in his wheely desk chair. “Where were you the whole day?” 

“At school,” Hao said calmly. “Which is a place students go.”

“No, your classes ended at one today,” Matthew countered. “I know because every Wednesday you always come back early and try to practice your violin when I want to take a nap.” 

Hao smiled ruefully. “My bad. It’s just a convenient timing, you know?”

“That aside,” Taerae interjected. “Class ended early today, and you left almost immediately. Where were you?”

“With that guy? Dining Hall Guy?” Matthew prompted.

Hao resisted the urge to slap a hand over his own face. “Please don’t call him Dining Hall Guy…”

“Sorry, I’ve only ever seen him at the dining hall, and you won’t tell me his name,” Matthew shrugged. “I’m doing the best with what I’ve got.”

Hao sighed. They were going to get it out of him sooner or later. It was probably better to just rip the bandaid off quick. “His name is Jiwoong.”

“That’s the No One guy I told you about,” Matthew explained to Taerae, who nodded in understanding. 

Hao was beginning to despair at the direction conversation was taking. “How many nicknames are you going to give him?” 

“So what’s going on between you and Jiwoong?” Taerae probed. 

“Nothing’s going on, we’re just friends.”

Matthew gave him a look. “Friends who change into each others’ clothes in the middle of the day?” 

“What? How’d you know?”

“It was a wild guess,” Matthew answered snugly. “But I guess I was right. So the two of you are sleeping together.”

Hao caved to the impulse of slapping himself, did it, then promptly gave in. “Okay, fine, fine! God, are you Sherlock or something?” 

Matthew and Taerae fist-bumped each other in triumph. “I knew it! I had a theory, but I was waiting for more evidence before I confronted you.”

“Confronted is a crazy choice of words,” Hao protested weakly. 

“So, just sleeping with each other? Is it a situationship, are you guys dating, or-”

“No, not dating. Absolutely not dating.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him!” Hao felt a little like he was being interrogated for a crime. “It’s not him, it’s me. I just don’t, like, date or whatever.”

Taerae gave him a curious look. “Oh. Why?”

“I don’t know. Don’t want to risk tainting my memories of college,” Hao reasoned. “You know how when you date someone so many of your memories and experiences start revolving around that person? What do you think happens when you break up?”

“Jesus, you’re even more pessimistic than Taerae,” Matthew griped. 

“It’s not pessimism, it’s called being logical and realistic,” Taerae shot back. “This is why all your situationships fail.”

“Can you shut the fuck up-“

Hao had laughed and disappeared to go shower after. By the time he made it back to the room, it was past ten; Taerae had gone back to his own room, and Matthew was absorbed in reading notes. He and Matthew spent a quiet few hours sitting in silence broken only by the flipping of pages and clicking of pens. 

When the both of them decided to turn in and go to sleep, it was already past midnight. Matthew turned over in his bed to look at Hao, his eyes shining in the dimness. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“You’re already asking,” Hao said, smiling. “Go ahead.”

“Have you ever actually dated anyone? Like, not a situationship.”

“Yes, one. What about you?”

Matthew sighed. “Nope. Like Taerae said, all my situationships fail.”

Hao laughed softly. “Come on, I’m sure that’s not it. Ever heard of the burnt toast theory?”

“No, what’s that?”

“It’s called the burnt toast theory because the original story was about some guy who was late because his toast was burnt, and because he was late he ended up escaping this disaster that would have happened if he had been on time,” Hao explained. “Basically, sometimes little bad things happen to save you from bigger bad things happening later.”

“Little bad things feels like an understatement,” Matthew said, pouting. 

“I know,” Hao answered. “Trust me, I know. So what happened with your…guy? Girl? Man, I don’t know.”

Matthew laughed. “Both, actually. I’m just not made for this shit, I think.”

“When was your last?”

“Oh…can’t tell you.”

“What the!” Hao sat up in bed, indignant. “I just got my entire life story beaten out of me by you and Taerae, and you’re not telling me? Tell me now, or I’m throwing you out.”

“I can’t! You know how they say it starts going wrong the second you tell someone about it? I can’t risk it getting any worse than it already has,” Matthew despaired.

“You know what, that’s kinda valid,” Hao conceded. “Okay, fine. But tell me as soon as anything happens. I’m rooting for you.”

“Aww, I know. Thank you, I mean it,” Matthew said cheerily. “Anyway, so what happened with your ‘one’?”

“God, it’s a long fuckin’ story…”

“Well, I’m not sleepy,” Matthew mused. “Unless you are.”

“No, not really. I had a nap.”

“Right, in Jiwoong’s room. After-“

“Will you shut up? I’ll talk, jeez…”

Matthew made a big show of sitting up in bed and placing his hands on his lap. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Me and him started dating around the end of the first year of high school,” Hao began. “We’d known each other for a while, though, at that point. We broke up, like, April of third year? But it had already been rocky for months before. I wanted to break up with him in November of second year, but he promised me he would do better and I believed him.”

“I guess he didn’t,” Matthew said. “Do better how?”

“You need to know a little more about the kind of person he was, first,” Hao continued. “He’s really nice, and friendly with everyone. He’s the kind of person that hardly ever does anything selfish or malicious. In everyone else’s eyes, he’s capable of no wrong. And that was true most of the time. I mean, I guess it’s part of why I liked him.”

“But…?”

Hao smiled, a little bitterly. “Right, there’s always a ‘but’. He had a ton of friends and everyone loved him, but he was always so busy with one thing or the other. I know this sounds selfish, but he just never made time for me. Sometimes I didn’t see him for days, and he’d hardly answer my texts, and it didn’t feel like I was in a relationship at all. I’d ask to go out together, or study, or just hang out, but more often than not he always had something on. And I know having a boyfriend doesn’t mean you’re supposed to cave to their every whim, but there’s gotta be some balance, you know?”

Matthew nodded, looking so very serious that Hao wanted to laugh. “That sounds terrible.”

“Well, I loved him a lot, I suppose,” Hao said softly. “I was unhappy sometimes, but whenever he was around, it felt like all of my unhappiness went away. He was just…so easy to love. But I was too much for him, so that was that. It’s kind of ridiculous, actually, that I wanted to break up and he promised he would change, and then hardly four months later he ended things. He said I was too demanding, that I wanted too much from him and he couldn’t handle it, but he started talking to this other guy in our school pretty soon after, and if you’ve seen them together in school you’ll know why I feel the way I do. I just wasn’t worth the trouble, I guess.”

Matthew threw a pillow over towards Hao’s bed. “Hey, don’t ever say that again,” he said sternly. “You’re worth all the trouble in the world. Besides, he sounds like a dick. Why get into a relationship if you have no time to commit to it?”

“I don’t know,” Hao sighed. “But that’s the way things are. I don’t know how people out there stay in relationships for like, ever. Don’t they ever get sick of each other?”

“I like to think if you love someone enough one of two things will happen,” Matthew said. “Either you’ll never get sick of them, or you’ll love them so much that being sick of them doesn’t even matter.”

Hao scoffed. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Have some faith!” Matthew chided. “But all this that happened with your ex, is that why you don’t want to date Jiwoong? Because you think it’s going to happen all over again?”

Matthew’s words made Hao wince ever so slightly. He was right, after all. Hiding behind the guise of all the other silly reasons he could cook up for not wanting to date, was the real reason; he had once been a street dog waiting at the same old corner every day hoping for his special person to walk by and throw him a scrap. Back then, he’d been content to wait for hours, days, on nothing more than a mere hope. The idea that he could one day go back to being that street dog terrified him to his core. 

He wondered where he’d learned that if he pretended not to want scraps, his hunger would go away. It didn’t.

“Something like that.”

“But you can’t let one bad experience change your mind forever.”

“Funny,” Hao remarked, smiling. “Jiwoong said the same thing.”

“Great, so now you’ve got two really hot, smart, incredibly attractive men telling you that. Doesn’t that lend some extra credibility?”

“I’ll believe it when the second hot, smart, incredibly attractive man tells me that,” Hao returned playfully. “So far it’s just Jiwoong.”

“You know what, you piece of sh-”

The next time Hao ended up in Jiwoong’s room, Jiwoong offered to buy him dinner as an apology for going so hard on him. 

“Are you okay?” he’d whispered, brushing sweat-soaked hair out of Hao’s forehead as both of their heart rates began to slow back down. “Was it too much? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Hao shook his head, panting softly to catch his breath. “Don’t be sorry, you idiot.”

He’d accepted, anyway. They went out to some barbecue place downtown, somewhere Jiwoong had gone to before and claimed was worth a visit. 

“So, how’s school?” Hao started, moving raw meat onto the grill with metal tongs. 

“It’s the same old,” Jiwoong answered, shrugging. “At least I’m taking better classes than I was last semester. I’m taking one about the use of music as subliminal stimuli in broadcast media, actually, which might be interesting to you.”

“Hey, I’m taking that one too…” Hao narrowed his eyes at Jiwoong. “I’ve never seen you at the lecture theatre.”

Jiwoong laughed, looking sheepish. “Right…remember what I said about lectures being suggestions?” 

“It’s a miracle you even made it to second year.”

Hao turned the question over and over in his head that night, as they left the restaurant, before finally deciding to just come right out and ask it. 

“Do you, uh, want to get tested together?”

“Hm? For what?”

“So you can save all that money you’re spending on condoms,” Hao answered, making a face that said the answer was obvious. “I know I’m clean and I trust that you are too, but it’s probably a good precaution to take, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jiwoong mused, nodding. “Let’s go do that as soon as possible.”

Neither of them said anything about how with “saving on condoms” came the implication that from then on they wouldn’t be doing anything with anyone else. Hao hadn’t been, and as far as he knew he was pretty sure Jiwoong hadn’t either, but the little agreement they had was a nice confirmation, regardless. 

He pondered about it that night, as he lay in bed. It felt nice, he thought, to have something exclusive. Something that only he had, something to call his own, after such a long while. 

Of course, at the end of the day, it was just something as silly as agreeing not to fuck anyone else. The most they could be called was friends with benefits, or some extension of that. Right?

He buried his face into the pillow. The idea of Jiwoong even touching anyone else made his stomach turn. 

Ugh. He was just brilliant at screwing himself over, wasn’t he? He toyed with the idea of forcing himself to stay away from Jiwoong as a precaution, but the entire sentiment was so off-putting to him that he dismissed it almost immediately. 

Hao reached over to his nightstand and tapped at his screen until his chat with Jiwoong was open. 

breakfast tomorrow?

The reply came about a minute later. 

Okay, 7:30?

mhm ok

Alright. Goodnight.

goodnight ^^

He turned his phone off, placed it back onto the nightstand, and smiled at the ceiling. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It had shocked him, honestly, how easily and comfortably Jiwoong fit into his life at college. The proximity of living two floors away from each other in the same building meant they could look for each other almost anytime they wanted, but it also meant that he saw Jiwoong around every so often even if they didn’t have plans together. And every time he saw Jiwoong with someone else who wasn’t him, he found his mind wandering; who were that? What were they talking about? What was he saying?

And weirdly enough, a part of him knew that if he just asked, Jiwoong would probably tell him. It felt strange, like reading a question on a test that had an answer a little too straightforward. Something that left him wondering is this it? Is it supposed to be that easy?

“Dude, I’m the worst possible person to ask about this kind of thing,” Matthew returned, when Hao posed the question to him. “Like, all I ever fall for are toxic people. But for what my opinion is worth, Jiwoong seems like a great guy. I mean, he’s dedicated and patient and deals with your princess attitude, which already says a lot.”

Hao glared at him. “I’ll give you a minute to rephrase what you just said to me.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I said what I meant,” Matthew countered lightheartedly. “But seriously, I don’t understand why you keep holding yourself back when you clearly like him.”

“I don’t like him,” Hao protested.

“Yeah, shut up. You need to remember that Jiwoong isn’t your ex, and you aren’t that person you used to be anymore. You’ve learned hard lessons and you have all your walls up now, but he’s still willing to wait for you to let him in. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“That no one else wants him and I should set him free again?”

“What the fuck?!”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Hao gave in. “I know, I know. I’m just scared, okay? You can’t really blame me.”

“No one’s blaming you,” Matthew answered. “But in order for anything to work, you have to love more than you‘re afraid. That’s the only way.”

That sentence stayed in his mind for a long time after that conversation was over. It was true, wasn’t it? That he was letting his fear have a greater say than any other emotion he felt. And sure there was a good reason for it, but-

He couldn’t help but think about how unfair it was to Jiwoong. To leave him waiting on someone who might never decide to let their guard down on him. He hadn’t wanted to lead Jiwoong on, but that was exactly what he’d ended up doing, maybe even without either of them knowing. Everything they were doing, all this sleeping together and having meals together and spending time together like they were already a couple when they weren’t, was sending them in the direction of imminent disaster if Hao didn’t sort his own emotional baggage out before it was too late. 

He thought about the piece of burnt toast. The man would have died if all he’d decided to do was curse his luck, eat the burnt toast and go on his way. 

Strangely enough, the only person he wanted to talk about Jiwoong to was Jiwoong. He wondered when he had started having a someone he wanted to tell things to. It’d been a while since he’d sworn never to have one again. 

He reached for his phone and called. 

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Are you busy? Can I come over?”

“I’m not busy, but I’m too tired to do anything tonight. My legs feel like they’re going to detach from my body.”

“I wasn’t going to ask for that, you animal. I just wanted to talk. Why are you so tired, anyway?”

“Oh, my friends invited me out hiking earlier today. It’s bad for the knees, but it’s seriously a nice view. I’ll take you, if you want to go.”

“Hiking sounds like my worst nightmare, actually. Can I come down?”

“Yeah, of course. See you.”

The room door was already cracked open when Hao turned the corner into the corridor. He knocked first, anyway, out of courtesy before peeking in. Jiwoong was seated at his desk, his laptop open in front of him, but he turned around and smiled when he saw Hao. 

“Hey.”

Hao walked in and perched himself up on the foot of Jiwoong’s bed. “Remember what I said that night we went out for ice cream? About me not wanting to date because I don’t believe in love?”

“Mhm. What about it?”

“Now I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve been processing that all wrong.”

Jiwoong looked amused. “This is a new realization for you?”

“Shut up,” Hao retorted. “I’m serious. I feel like I gaslit myself into thinking I don’t feel anything for anyone by, you know, forcibly telling myself I shouldn’t.”

Jiwoong nodded, thoughtful. “So who do you think you have feelings for?”

“You.”

“Not beating around the bush, huh?” Jiwoong mused, sitting back in his chair and shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. 

Hao deliberated over whether rolling his eyes was appropriate. He decided it was. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You knew this was going to happen.”

“Knew, hoped…” Jiwoong did a little nonchalant shrug. “Not really the same thing. But anyway, what are you going to do about it?”

“About?”

“Your feelings for me.”

Hao buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Don’t say it like that!”

“You know, the first step in being comfortable with your emotions is being comfortable talking about them,” Jiwoong reasoned. “But if you’d rather talk to someone else about it instead of me, that’s okay too.”

“No, I want to talk to you.”

“Okay, go on.”

Hao frowned, and ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus, where do I even start?”

“Relax,” Jiwoong said. “It’s just me. Take your time and think if you need to.”

Hao was a little peeved that communicating with Jiwoong was so deceptively easy. “Can you come sit on the bed? You’re so far away.”

Jiwoong laughed, like a pet owner amused by his cat’s antics, and came over to sit next to him on the bed, close but not quite touching. Hao thought for a second, then swung his legs up to rest on Jiwoong’s lap. There, that was better. 

“What was I saying?”

Jiwoong gave him a pointed look. “You were going to talk about your feelings.”

“Ugh, fine. I just- I guess I don’t want to pull you into something I’m not ready for,” Hao said slowly. His fingers played absentmindedly with the hem of Jiwoong’s hoodie. “Because that wouldn’t be fair. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not going to disagree with that, because it’s right,” Jiwoong answered. “But I knew what I was getting myself into from the start. I’ll wait, if that’s what it takes.”

“But why? Why would you bother with me?”

Jiwoong fixed him with a questioning look. “You say that like it’s surprising.”

“It is.”

“Well, I like you. I care about you and I want to be more to you than- than whatever we are right now, but I understand if you might not be ready.”

Hao nodded slowly as he listened. He knew none of it was his fault and Jiwoong would never blame him for anything, but there was some part of him that felt bad for dragging Jiwoong into his mess, anyway. 

“I’m sorry, I wish I could make this easier for you. I’m just scared, I guess.”

Jiwoong’s thumb rubbed gentle, soothing circles over Hao’s thigh. “Don’t apologize unless you’re leaving me.”

“I don’t want to,” Hao answered quietly.

“Then don’t.”

They spent so long just lying together and talking, that night, that they both ended up falling asleep in Jiwoong’s standard dorm-issue twin bed, which was somewhat of a feat. But it’d been a fruitful conversation; an agreement had been reached. 

For thirty days, they would enter a special arrangement. For the duration of this “arrangement”, they would do everything like they were a couple and treat each other accordingly. And in the meantime, Hao would have those thirty days to decide if he was really and truly ready to be in a relationship.

“Like a free trial?” Hao made a face. “I don’t know. What’s in it for you?”

“Does there have to be something in it for me?” Jiwoong returned. “If it all works out, I get to have you. That’s all that matters.”

Hao let his gaze fall. “You’re going to realize I’m really not worth all that trouble.”

“I have a very strong feeling you are,” Jiwoong answered. “But we’ll never know until we try, right?”

“What happens if I decide I can’t do it? Do we just break up, like that?”

“Well, that’s part of the deal. I’ll leave you alone, you’ll never have to see me again. No hard feelings.”

“No hard feelings? Really?” Hao doubted, very strongly, that the words breakup and no hard feelings could even exist in the same general vicinity as each other.

Jiwoong laughed. “Well, I guess I can’t exactly promise that. Depends on the circumstances.”

“But I don’t want to lose you.” It was a simple statement, a simple sentiment. 

Jiwoong laughed softly. “Well, even if we stay the way we are now, if you never push yourself to decide if you’re ready, you’re going to lose me someday. As in, I won’t be waiting for you forever, right?”

“Right. And I would never ask you to.”

“But if we do this, who knows what might happen? Maybe you are ready, and you’ve just been too afraid to realize it. Maybe we could be happy together.” Jiwoong smiled, as if he knew how cheesy he sounded. “Is that so difficult to imagine?”

“I don’t know,” Hao answered. “But it’s less hard to imagine if it’s you.”

Jiwoong woke him up as gently as possible at quarter to eight the next morning, keeping the window shades down so Hao wouldn't be blinded by the morning sun the second he opened his eyes. “You’ve got class at nine, Hao, come on,” he said softly. 

Hao only groaned, mumbled something incoherent, and rolled over in bed. Jiwoong tried to bite back a smile. Hao was so cute when he was asleep. His mouth that naturally formed a little pout and the cheek that squashed up against the pillow he was laying on made him look even younger than he was. 

Jiwoong ruffled Hao’s hair, messing up the bedhead he already had even more. Hao made a vague sound of protest and swiped out one hand like a cat paw to bat Jiwoong away, and he gave up on it altogether.

His roommate wasn’t in, as usual. Jiwoong headed over to his closet, rummaged through his drawers, and pulled the shirt he’d worn to sleep over his head, stretching his shoulders out as he did.

Hao made a soft groan as he finally sat up in bed. “Don’t strip in front of me first thing in the morning…” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

“Two things,” Jiwoong answered, pulling on a fresh shirt and clean pants. “One, we’ve slept together. Two, this is my room.”

“Yeah, don’t strip in front of me or I won’t want to go to class anymore,” Hao retorted. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight.”

“I need to go back upstairs to get ready…” Hao looked devastated at the prospect of having to actually get out of bed.

“You can do it, I believe in you,” Jiwoong returned, amused. “Bring some of your clothes down the next time you come, if you’d like. There’s some space in my closet.”

“Or, I have a better idea,” Hao shrugged, stretching his legs out before standing up reluctantly. “I could just keep borrowing your clothes.”

“Yeah? I like seeing you in them, so no complaints. They make you look tiny.”

“We’re pretty much the same height, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Wonder how that works.”

“Shut up. I’ll meet you at the dining hall for breakfast?”

“Fifteen minutes. Don’t go back to sleep.”

Hao was ambushed by Matthew the second he opened the door. 

“So where were you all night?”

Hao made a face. “You’re not my mom.”

“Tell me, or I’ll pee on everything you own while you’re out,” Matthew threatened, looking absolutely serious. 

“You’re an animal,” Hao shot back. “I was in Jiwoong’s room, I just fell asleep.”

“So what’s the status quo? Are you guys dating, or is it-”

“Why’re you up so early anyway? You don’t have classes till noon,” Hao deflected, grabbing his laptop and charger to slot into his bag. 

“I don’t, but Taerae woke me,” Matthew answered. “I couldn’t go back to sleep after, so I just got up.”

“Taerae woke you, ergo, he slept here last night.”

Matthew shrugged. “Kinda.”

“Yeah, nothing to unpack there at all.” Hao slung his bag over his shoulder. “I have to go meet Jiwoong for breakfast. Debrief when I get back?”

“There’s nothing to debrief me on!”

“Lie to me all you want. See you later.”

Dating Jiwoong was surprisingly easy. It was unsettling to Hao sometimes, just how easy it was. They’d have breakfast and dinner together at the dining hall, Hao would drag Jiwoong to attend the one lecture they shared every week, they’d spend evenings either studying together in Jiwoong’s room or out doing something, like window shopping or visiting a dessert cafe or whatever activity Hao stumbled upon on social media and showed Jiwoong, who was very much chronically offline. 

And in the beginning Hao tried his best to hold back, to text only if there was something important to say, to call only when something urgent came up, to preface all his requests with some variation of “it’s okay if not, though” or “only if you want to”. 

Jiwoong called him out on it, a week into their thirty-day arrangement, in the most passive, unobtrusive way possible. “Why do you always say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re trying not to offend me, or something.”

Hao sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be too demanding, or whatever.”

Jiwoong laughed softly, like there was a joke only he was privy to. “Who cares? Demand whatever you want. That’s kind of the point of being in a relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship yet, this is relationship-adjacent,” Hao protested. “I don’t know, okay? I keep thinking if I ask for too much you’ll think I’m not worth the trouble and you’ll just leave.”

“Jesus…” Jiwoong ran a hand over his face. “Stop thinking like that, okay? I want to spend time with you. I want to talk to you and be around you. I’m not gonna just change my mind and abandon ship.”

“That’s easy to say.”

“It’s even easier to do,” Jiwoong responded. “Honestly, you make it sound like being with you is some sort of chore. Some days it’s the only thing I look forward to, you know?”

Hao had said nothing to that, but he thought about it often when he couldn’t fall asleep at night, as he lay on his back in the darkness with his arms and legs sprawled out around him, watching the ceiling fan spin. Jiwoong was right. He did think being with him was a chore. That his very existence was a chore. 

But Jiwoong had never made him feel like that. From the first time they’d met, on the dance floor at that silly frat house, Jiwoong had never done a single thing to make Hao feel like he was unwanted, or unwelcome, or undesired. And yet Hao let that fear eat away at him. 

He picked his phone up from his nightstand. It was close to one in the morning now. Jiwoong slept early, and Hao had no idea if he was still awake, but he texted anyway. 

you still up?

Hao scrolled his social media feeds for a minute before the notification popped up. 

Mhm. What’s up?

can i come down?

Of course. Door’s unlocked.

He slipped his sneakers on, not bothering with socks, and padded down two flights of stairs to the fifth door to the right on the tenth floor. The door was unlocked, as promised, and the room was dark. Hao closed the door as quietly as possible and slid his shoes off, getting into Jiwoong’s bed. 

“What’s up, hm?” Jiwoong’s voice was a little raspy, as if he’d already been half asleep when Hao texted. 

Hao tucked himself into Jiwoong’s side, draping one arm loosely over his torso. “Nothing. Just wanted to be with you.”

Jiwoong said nothing, but Hao felt something soft press into the top of his head, a kiss. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Another week passed like this, without much event. Jiwoong and Hao were at the dining hall one of the weeknights, dinner trays in hand, when Matthew called out for Hao, with someone behind him in tow. 

“Hao! Oh, hey Jiwoong,” Matthew greeted, smiling. “This is my friend Hanbin, he’s just here to have dinner and hang out for a while. He goes to this school too, but he doesn’t stay in this building.”

Hao stared blankly at the face he’d seen a million times before, willing either his mouth to say something or his legs to carry him away from here. Hanbin stared back, looking surprised to see him. A long, awkward moment of silence passed before Hao found it in himself to speak. “Oh. Hey, Hanbin.”

Matthew noticed the weird tension in the air and frowned. “Do you guys know each other?”

“Kind of,” Hao answered. “Um, he’s my…”

“Ex,” Hanbin finished for him, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Um, we dated back in high school. Matthew, he’s your roommate?”

Now it was Matthew’s turn to be awkwardly silent. “Oh, yeah…” He gave Hao and Hanbin each a very pointed look. “Yup, shouldn’t have done this. See you later, Hao. Sorry.”

Matthew steered Hanbin away to a table at the far end of the dining hall, and Hao stood where he was, frozen, his knuckles almost white where they gripped the dinner tray he was still holding. Jiwoong ran a comforting hand along the small of his back. “Hey, you okay?”

Hao shook himself out of the daze he was in, and nodded. “Um, yeah. Let’s sit down.”

Jiwoong led him to an empty table and sat down opposite him, watching his expression carefully. “So that’s him?”

Hao nodded, biting his lip. “Didn’t know he was friends with Matthew. That’s awkward.”

“Yeah, kind of.” Jiwoong grinned wryly. “But how are you feeling? You kind of clammed up back there.”

“I’m fine, it’s nothing. Just…it’s been a while since the last time I saw him. It was just kind of a shock, you know?”

“I know. But did it upset you? Are you unhappy, or-”

Hao shook his head decisively. “No. For me to be unhappy, I’d have to feel something towards him first. I don’t think there’s anything there for me to be unhappy about anymore.”

“Are you sure? You know you don’t have to hide it.”

“I know I don’t have to,” Hao smiled softly, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. “He’s just…him. He’s just someone. He doesn’t have an effect on me anymore. Not the way he used to.”

Matthew had apologized profusely to him, later that night when they were both back in their room. 

“Hao, I’m so, so sorry. I swear, I had no idea you guys knew each other. I mean, I didn’t even put the pieces together that you guys went to the same high school. I should have thought it through, I’m so sorry, it’s completely my bad-”

Hao took Matthew by the shoulders and interrupted his spiralling. “Hey, it’s not your fault. You had no idea, I know. I’m not mad, or upset.”

“But even if you’re not, I-”

“Shhh, no more apologizing. It really isn’t anything to do with you,” Hao interjected. “Besides, I feel kind of bad about that after everything I told you about him. Did I make it awkward?”

Matthew made a face. “Funnily enough, I yelled at him over you back in high school. I didn’t know it was you, obviously, but I know he was dating someone and he was kind of a shitty boyfriend back then, and I told him if he didn’t get his shit together he wasn’t ever going to find love and happiness or whatever.”

“Yeah?” Hao looked amused. “I’m surprised he told you about the stuff he did. I don’t think he ever really thought he was in the wrong. I mean, a lot of it was a matter of opinion, honestly.”

“Matter of opinion or not, I don’t think the way he treated you was right,” Matthew shrugged. “But he’s changed a lot since the breakup. Like, you know he’s dating someone now, right? I can tell his attitude’s changed. Like he grew up, started caring more about the right things.” Matthew was silent for a second. “Sorry if you don’t want to hear about this kind of thing.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m happy he’s changed. I sure hope he treats Ricky better than he treated me,” Hao said. “I don’t really hold any grudges towards him. I don’t see a point.”

“That’s a really mature way to see it,” Matthew answered. “I know he hurt you a lot.”

Hao thought for a second before he spoke again. “Maybe he hurt me. Maybe I hurt myself. Who’s to know, right? But it’s over now. I’m happier.”

“Right, with Jiwoong.”

Hao smiled. “Right. With Jiwoong.”

He shot Jiwoong a text that night, before he went to sleep. 

thanks for being here for me

Almost immediately, Jiwoong answered. 

Always.

Goodnight.

He was in Jiwoong’s room again, one afternoon a few days later, sitting cross-legged on the bed typing away on his Macbook as Jiwoong sat at his desk.

“Hao?”

Hao looked up from his screen. “Hm?”

“I know we’ve still got a while more to go and we agreed you only had to decide at the end of thirty days but…”

“But…?”

“I want to know how you’re feeling. About this whole thing, about me, anything. Talk to me,” Jiwoong continued. “Sometimes I wish I could pick your brain apart so I could understand what you were thinking, but I can’t, so talk to me.”

Hao smiled, and set his Macbook aside. “Sometimes I wish I could pick my own brain apart, too. But you know, it always starts off perfect. No one gets into a relationship thinking it already sucks. It’s time that wears people down.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jiwoong mused. He dropped the pen he was spinning between his fingers back onto the table, and fixed his gaze on the other boy. “What can I do? To prove I’m different?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?”

“You’re right. I guess we do.”

Matthew returned to their shared room after his morning class the next day, looking mildly distraught. 

“Hao, I know you probably wouldn’t care, but…” he trailed off, dropping his bag onto his chair. “Hanbin’s grandmother passed away. My mom just heard about it from his mom.”

“Oh my god, are you serious?”

“Yeah, it was just last night,” Matthew continued. “I- I don’t even really know what to say to him, I know he was close to her when he was younger, but…”

“He was close to her all through high school, too,” Hao answered quietly. “He must be devastated.”

Matthew looked absolutely crestfallen. “I feel so awful. I’ll try and send him some condolences later. She used to babysit the two of us when we were younger, you know? She always snuck us sweets and stuff. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

Hao deliberated for the rest of the day over whether or not to reach out. He knew there were some social etiquettes about keeping no-contact with exes especially since Hanbin had a boyfriend now, but all rules had exceptions for extenuating circumstances like these. He decided, by morning of the next day; to send a short text message, nothing more than a “hey, i heard about your grandmother. i’m so sorry, i hope you and your family are doing fine. if there’s anything you need, let me know.”

He half expected Hanbin not to reply. He was sure Hanbin would be bombarded with messages like these, anyway. But by noon, there was a notification on his phone, from a number he hadn’t seen a notification from in a long time. 

hey, hao. thanks for the message, i appreciate it. i know things between us didn’t end well but it means a lot that you cared enough to text. 

i know that last line was probably just a courtesy but

i could really use your company right now. i know it’s a lot to ask for but no one else understands how i feel about my grandmother the way you do. i just feel like i have no one to talk to and it’s killing me inside. 

The last message was timestamped an hour later than the others. 

but don’t feel obligated, i mean it. thanks for checking up on me either way. 

Hao set his phone down and chewed on the inside of his lip as he thought. Hanbin had always been close with his grandmother. Back when they were dating, it was one of the only excuses he’d never objected to. Because he knew that if his grandmother were here and not back home in China, he’d probably want to see her just as much as Hanbin wanted to see his. 

But things were different now. There had to be boundaries, definitely, but Hao couldn’t help but feel like he owed it to Hanbin to put aside his own petty feelings and be there for him for this one thing. 

And then Jiwoong- oh god, Jiwoong might be unhappy about Hao going to see Hanbin, and he would be fully within his rights to. He worried about it for a few seconds more before remembering this was Jiwoong he was talking about and he could just ask him straight up without having to brood over it. 

Hao brought it up over dinner. “Um, I got some news from Matthew yesterday…” he began, a little tentative. “Hanbin’s grandmother just passed away.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. My condolences to his family.”

Hao nodded, chewing at a bite of rice and egg. “I sent him a quick text to say I’m sorry about his grandmother and to let me know if there’s anything he needs.”

“Okay.”

“And he said I shouldn’t feel obligated, but he could really use my company or something, since no one else really understands his relationship with his grandmother…” Hao trailed off, watching Jiwoong’s expression. 

Jiwoong nodded. “So, are you going to meet him?”

“You don’t mind?”

Jiwoong shook his head. “His grandmother just died. I think if there’s ever a time he deserves some grace, it’s now.”

Hao pondered over it for the rest of dinner. As they returned their trays and headed upstairs, he made a decision. “I think I’ll go and see him. Just for a little while, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Jiwoong answered, tracing gentle circles over Hao’s knuckle where their hands were intertwined. “But if anything happens and you feel like you need to leave, or if you don’t want to be there anymore, just call me and I’ll come get you, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks for understanding, Jiwoong, I-”

I love you. 

Jiwoong looked over at him, waiting for him to finish what he was going to say. 

Hao felt the tops of his cheekbones color. “I really appreciate you. Thank you.”

He thought about that little slip-up, as he showered. He’d almost said it. Those words were so terrifyingly easy to say, and the scariest part was that some part of him wanted to say them. Wanted to mean them. Hao closed his eyes, let the hot water run down his face and tried not to think about anything at all. 

He headed over to Hanbin’s dorm building the next day a little past noon, since he had no classes till the late afternoon. Hanbin lived on campus too, but at a building closer to the arts side of the campus. The door was left ajar for him. Hao took a deep breath before pushing it open. 

“Hey.”

Hanbin was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling off, sneakers on the floor. “Hey. Thanks for coming.”

“It’s okay, wasn’t a big deal. Can I sit?”

Hanbin used his leg to kick his desk chair so Hao could sit. “Yeah, of course.”

Hao sat. Silence dragged on between them for a long few moments. 

“Honestly, I don’t really know why I asked you to come over,” Hanbin mused, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, as was his habit. “I thought talking to you might make it feel like…I don’t know. Like I was back in high school. When she wasn’t yet gone.”

Hao nodded slowly. “Is it working?”

Hanbin looked at him, tilting his head like he was studying an art piece at a museum. “Yes, and no.”

“Why?”

“Yes, because…” Hanbin sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Because you still look and sound the same as you used to, and it kind of makes me feel like the person I used to be.”

Hao stayed silent. Hanbin continued speaking. 

“And no, because I can tell you’re different now. You look happier.”

Hao nodded again. “I am happier.”

Hanbin smiled. “I’m glad. I know I didn’t really talk much to you after…after everything, and god knows I don’t deserve that kind of privilege, but I’m really grateful for the time you were in my life.”

He glanced over at Hao. “You taught me a lot of things,” he continued. “Some of which were at your own expense, and looking back, I know a lot of the time I didn’t do right by you. I’m sorry I was too self-absorbed to see it back then. And I know apologies don’t mean anything when the bullet’s been shot, but…”

“I didn’t come here for an apology,” Hao answered softly. 

“I know you didn’t,” Hanbin said in return. “But I’ve never really gotten past the fact that I never apologized to you, so I need you to know that I’m sorry.”

Hao nodded. “Thanks for apologizing.”

The conversation returned to silence, for a minute or so. 

“So, how’s everything going? With Ricky, I mean,” Hao began. 

Hanbin laughed, a short, bitter sound. “He’s, uh, we’re not really on talking terms at the moment,” he said. “Haven’t been for a while now. He wanted to take a break, so that’s what’s happening.”

“He’s mad at you?”

Hanbin nodded, and Hao sighed. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know.” Hanbin shrugged, and let his hands fall uselessly in his lap. “I must have done something wrong, but I don’t know what I did. Hell, I never ever know what I’m doing wrong till it’s too goddamn late.”

“How could you not know?” Hao asked, frowning ever so slightly. 

“I don’t know,” Hanbin said again. “I just know I screwed up and now I might lose him, and my grandmother just passed away but all I can think about is that my boyfriend is mad at me.”

Hanbin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and his shoulders heaved the way Hao knew they did when he cried. Hao swallowed the urge to reach out and hug him, but decided against it a moment later. The build of Hanbin’s shoulders was so achingly familiar, yet strange in his arms, like he was standing in a room that used to belong to him but no longer did. 

“I’m sorry,” Hanbin said, his voice muffled. “I know I sound ridiculous, and- you shouldn’t have to deal with this…”

Hao hugged him tighter, as if to wring every last bit of sorrow out of him. Only when Hanbin’s sobs quieted and his breathing slowed did Hao speak. 

“This might sound deceptively simple, but it really is just that,” he said quietly. “If you don’t know why Ricky’s mad at you, ask him. And if he won’t tell you, ask yourself why he feels like he can’t. You’ve always been perfect and composed and self-possessed, but you forget that being in a relationship is about the other person, not about you.”

Hanbin was silent for a long time after that. Hao pulled away eventually, taking a piece of tissue from the box on Hanbin’s desk and offering it to him. 

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do need to just talk to him,” Hanbin said finally, his voice thick from crying. 

“Does he know about your grandmother?”

Hanbin shook his head. “Our break started before she passed.”

“I think you should tell him. He’d want to be here for you.”

“Maybe.”

Hao had to leave, at some point, for the class he had at four. Hanbin gave him a grateful smile as he got up to go. 

“Thanks for coming. It meant a lot to me.”

“Did it help?”

Hanbin made a face. “A little. It took my mind off my grandmother. I’m glad I was able to tell you everything I wanted to. It’s been on my mind ever since…ever since the breakup.”

Hao nodded slowly. “I think some of that was good for me to hear, too.”

“I’ll see you around campus?” Hanbin offered. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” Hao replied, smiling. “And for all it’s worth, I wish you all the best.”

“I wish you all the best too,” Hanbin said. Hao pulled on his shoes and opened the door. “Oh, and by the way…”

“Hm?”

“Who was that guy you were with that day at the dining hall? The one with the blond hair?”

“Oh, him?” Hao thought about what to say. “He’s…my boyfriend.”

Hanbin smiled. His eyes were puffy from crying and his hair was messy, but his smile was genuine. “I hope you’re happier.”

“Thank you. I am.”

There were three messages from Jiwoong, and one missed call when Hao next checked his phone. 

Hey, let me know how it goes. 

Everything okay?

Call me when you see this, okay? Just want to check on you.

1 missed call from Jiwoong

Hao smiled, and called Jiwoong back. He answered almost immediately. 

“Hey. How’d it go?”

“Fine,” Hao answered, as he left Hanbin’s dorm building and headed towards campus for his class. “I could tell he kind of needed that, so…”

“Okay. Just making sure. I’ll see you for dinner later, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be back at, like, half past six.”

“Okay, love you. Bye.”

Jiwoong hung up immediately after, and Hao blinked slowly, his phone still pressed to his ear. 

Did Jiwoong just say “love you”?

Hao slid his phone into his pocket and kept walking. He tried to bite back the smile that crept onto his face and dampen the little spring that came into his step, but it didn’t quite work. 

Jiwoong had said it, so casually. Did he even know he’d said it? Maybe it was just a habit, something he used to say to his ex and he’d mindlessly repeated now-

Hao stopped walking and forcibly cleared his head. Overthinking again.

Class flew by faster than its usual crawl. He was back at the dorm by quarter past six, and as he tapped his key card and shouldered the room door open, Matthew was inside, spinning in circles on his wheely desk chair. 

“I heard you went to see Hanbin earlier,” he said, giving Hao a little sailor’s salute as a greeting. “How was it?”

“Just fine,” Hao answered, setting his stuff down. “How’d you know? Hanbin told you?”

“No, Jiwoong was here kind of tweaking out earlier.”

Hao furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly. It was difficult to imagine Jiwoong “tweaking out” in any capacity. 

“Tweaking out like how?”

Matthew sighed. “Okay, not really, I was just being dramatic. He came up here at like, half-past three and asked if you’d been back because you weren’t answering your phone. I told him you had classes till six and he told me you’d gone to see Hanbin.”

“Oh.” Hao kept his expression neutral. So Jiwoong had come up here to ask after him when he hadn’t answered his texts. There was a warm feeling that bubbled up inside him, like melted chocolate. 

“So what are you guys now?” Matthew probed. 

“I don’t know,” Hao answered. “Dating-adjacent?”

“What’s stopping it from being just dating?”

Hao thought about it for a good few moments. “You know what? I have no idea.”

Later at dinner, something was off. Hao couldn’t put his finger on it; Jiwoong had picked up a drink for him on the way back, he’d pulled out a chair for him, he’d offered to switch his plate with Hao’s because his had more meat. 

“You’re acting weird,” Hao remarked, forking up a piece of meat and sending it back to Jiwoong’s plate so they had the same amount. “What’s going on?”

Jiwoong shrugged. “Nothing. I’m not acting weird. How was your day?”

“Don’t make small talk to me,” Hao returned.

“I’m not. How was the thing with Hanbin?”

Hao made a face. “It was okay. I think it was a conversation we needed to have, since we never really talked anything out after we ended things. It just…got toxic between us really fast.”

“But how do you feel? Did it make you feel better?”

“Kind of? Like I sort of understood things a little bit from his perspective, and it made things make more sense. But he’s going through a tough time with his relationship, too, so he was really stressed out.”

Jiwoong frowned. “He is?”

“Yeah, but I’ll spare you the details,” Hao answered. “I did what I could to comfort him and I gave him some honest advice.”

“But he didn’t…try to start anything, right? Like, make any moves on you, or…”

Hao laughed softly. “Is that what you were worried about? Jeez…”

“I wasn’t worried …” Jiwoong protested, huffing softly. 

“No, it’s cute,” Hao insisted, smiling. “God, you’re so cute. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you act like that.”

“I just didn’t want to lose you, okay?”

“You thought I was going to jump back into his arms after spending three hours with him?”

Jiwoong threw his hands up in a show of defeat. “I don’t know! I just feel like…like we’ve made so much progress since we first met and I didn’t want anything to derail that.”

“I’m not that easily shaken,” Hao answered, reassuring. “If anything, all that conversation did was patch up old wounds. I still feel the same way about you.”

Jiwoong smiled. He looked relieved, though he tried to hide it. “Okay. Just making sure.”

That night, as he lay with Jiwoong’s arm tucked beneath him, their faces lit only by slits of moonlight peeking through the partially-closed windowshades, he spoke. 

“Jiwoong?”

“Hm?” Jiwoong’s gaze fell on him, dark eyes that looked caramel-colored in the light. 

“I love you.”

He watched Jiwoong’s face stretch into a familiar smile. “I love you too.”

“I think I’m ready,” he said finally. He felt like his heart was going to stop in his chest. 

“Ready to…?”

“To be in a relationship. With you.”

Jiwoong laughed. “We were kind of already doing that.”

“I know, but…” Hao traced invisible circles on Jiwoong’s chest. “I mean it. For real this time.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Jiwoong leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Hao’s forehead. “Thank you for trusting me. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“Thank you for letting me trust you,” Hao answered. Jiwoong’s eyes shone, in the dim moonlight, like stars. “You made it easy for me.”

Matthew was absolutely ecstatic to hear the news the next morning, partly because he was happy for them, but more so because he’d had a running bet going with Taerae on how long it would take before they finally got together and he’d been three days away from losing fifty bucks. 

He gave Hao an enthusiastic uncle-style clap on the back. “I’m proud of you, son,” he said, in a ridiculous deep voice. “Okay, but seriously, I’ve watched you pine over him for almost a semester. It’s about time something finally happened.”

Hao smiled. “Thanks for being here through everything. I don’t think you know it, but your advice helped a lot. Not to boost your ego or anything, though.”

“Yeah? Consider my ego boosted,” Matthew retorted. “You know what they say about coaches never playing?”

Hao met Jiwoong at the dining hall for breakfast a little later. Things felt different, but also exactly the same; they sat at the same table they always did, and Jiwoong took the same old coffee while he took the same old breakfast tea, but it was different, still, and cosmically so. As he sat down at the table and cut into a stack of pancakes with fruit compote, he thought about how lucky he was to be able to feel happiness so deep it seemed to permeate every piece of his existence. 

“What are you thinking of?” Jiwoong asked, bringing a piece of pancake to his lips. 

“Everything, us,” Hao answered. Life had never been more blissfully perfect than it was in that moment. “You. Always you.”