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Hwang Inho was not a man who got nervous. Or, at least, he never showed it. Years of practice had made sure of that. But as he sat at the dinner table in Gihun’s modest apartment, watching him plate up the last of the food with his usual casual sloppiness, he felt an unfamiliar knot in his stomach.
It wasn’t like he had any reason to be nervous. He knew Gihun loved him. He knew Gihun’s feelings had never wavered, not even with the way they both had been scarred by life’s many detours before—marriage, fatherhood, bitter and heated divorces... Despite all these challenges, despite having experienced the uglier side of love, of trusting someone not to break your heart only to be hurt, Gihun has never let Inho feel unloved. Not once. His love and compassion seemingly endless.
So Inho knew that he had nothing to worry about. And yet here he was, clutching a small velvet box in his pocket like a lovesick teenager, his pulse hammering against his ribs and small beads of sweat gathering near his temples.
Inho had spent years being alone. By choice, mostly. His ex-wife had been a good woman, but their marriage had been built on practicality rather than love, and once their daughter was old enough to understand, they had parted ways on quiet, mutual terms. It had been the right decision—just like Gihun and his ex-wife had realized, eventually, that amicable feelings and stability alone weren’t enough to keep a marriage from falling apart.
They had both walked away from their respective marriages with battle scars, regrets, and the quiet understanding that they weren’t meant to be husbands to the women they had once promised forever to. They had thrown themselves into single fatherhood, doing their best to remain present in their children’s lives despite the inevitable guilt that came with shared custody and weekends spent apart.
Then Seong Gihun had stumbled back into his life like a whirlwind. Loud, ridiculous, infuriatingly sentimental Gihun, who somehow managed to crack through the walls Inho had spent years building.
And he has been the centre of Inho's life ever since.
Gihun set down the last dish with a satisfied sigh, then ruffled a hand through his hair as he dropped into the seat across from Inho. “Alright, dig in before it gets cold. I even made sure not to overcook the beef this time.”
Inho smirked, reaching for his chopsticks. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Gihun rolled his eyes but grinned. “You’re impossible.”
They ate comfortably, exchanging quiet conversation between bites. Their daughters were both at sleepovers tonight—Gayeong with a friend from school, and Inho’s son, Junseo, staying with his mother. That had given Inho the perfect opportunity to set this evening up, but now that they were here, he found himself hesitating.
Gihun was so relaxed, so utterly unaware of the way Inho’s heart was currently racing.
Halfway through dinner, Gihun paused, tilting his head slightly. “You’re weirdly quiet tonight.”
Inho wiped his mouth with his napkin, stalling for a moment. “Can’t a man enjoy a meal in peace?”
Gihun snorted. “Sure, but you usually have some snarky comment about my cooking by now.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Come on, what’s up?”
Inho exhaled sharply. He had rehearsed this moment in his head countless times, but suddenly all of his carefully chosen words felt clumsy and insufficient.
“I—” He stopped, frowning at himself. Then, steeling his resolve, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box.
Gihun’s eyes widened as Inho flipped it open, revealing the simple but elegant silver band inside.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, softly, Inho spoke. “I never thought I’d want to do this again.”
Gihun swallowed, his fingers twitching slightly against the table. “Inho…”
Inho held his gaze, his voice steady. “We’re not kids anymore. We’ve both been through too much to pretend that love is easy. But I know what I want, and that’s you. You, and the life we’ve started building together.”
Gihun let out a shaky breath, his usual bravado slipping away to reveal something raw and vulnerable underneath. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Inho’s lips twitched. “Though if you say no, I will be insulted.”
A laugh burst out of Gihun, startled and warm, and suddenly all of Inho’s nerves melted away.
Gihun reached for the ring with slightly trembling fingers, running his thumb over the smooth band before looking up at Inho with a soft, disbelieving smile. “You really want to marry me?”
Inho rolled his eyes, but his expression was fond. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”
Gihun laughed again, then, without another word, slid the ring onto his finger. It was a little loose—Inho would get it resized later—but the sight of it there, solid and real, made something in his chest tighten.
“Yes,” Gihun said, and Inho barely had time to register the word before Gihun was pulling him into a kiss. It was soft, slow, nothing dramatic, just the quiet certainty of two men who had already lost too much in life but had somehow found their way back to love.
When they pulled apart, Gihun rested his forehead against Inho’s, his breath warm against his lips. “Guess this means I’m stuck with you now.”
Inho smirked. “Guess so.”
They sat there for a long moment, their fingers loosely intertwined on the table, before Gihun chuckled softly. “Our kids are gonna have a field day with this.”
Inho snorted. “Gayeong’s going to insist on planning our wedding.”
Gihun groaned, but he was still smiling. “Junhee's gonna be equally obsessed, you know?”
“Probably.” Inho squeezed his hand. “But we’ll deal with that when it comes.”
And they would. Together.