Archive of Our Own

When the world presses in too tightly, suffocating in its fastness, the only this that felt comfortable was the weight of his guitar against his lap and the sensible hum of strings beneath his fingertips. 

Tae Rae's sister knew when something was gnawing away at him, it was when Tae Rae was uncharacteristically strumming his guitar a considerable number of times. With a blank stare, mindlessly.  

At first, when the strumming stretched deep into the night, she would bang on his door, telling him to shut the fuck up. But over time, she stopped. She had learned the pattern, understood the unspoken rule: when Tae Rae played like this, in a reverie, fingers dragging over the strings as if searching for something just out of reach, it meant something was eating at him. 

The second semester had come to an end. Exams were over, and he had done well, as expected. Tae Rae had never worried about grades; he was the kind of student who excelled at all times. He should be relieved. He should feel weightless, knowing a new year awaited him. The year that would ultimately be the most important year in his life, the closing chapter of his turbulent youth in this small, rural town. 

But all he could feel was time slipping through his fingers, dissolving like a song fading into silence, something once vibrant, now vanishing before he could hold onto it. 

The end of the school year. 

And he'd made a promise to himself. 

But Tae Rae's pretty sure he's unable to keep it. 

~ * ~

{ ~ YELLOW LOVE ~ } 

~ * ~

The rhythmic thud of the basketball against the vinyl floor echoed through the cavernous sports hall, steady as a heartbeat. Tae Rae lays sprawled on the wooden tribune, his notebook propped between his legs, a pen pressed between his teeth. His gaze is fixed on a math equation, but the numbers swam before his eyes, incomprehensible, like he is learning a new language from scratch. 

He hates P.E. He's terrible at it. Yet, the basketball court is the place he spends most of his time during breaks. For one simple reason. 

The basketball rolls to a stop against Tae Rae’s busily decorated bag, beads and patches in all colors and sizes. He turns his head slightly, already knowing what he’d see before his eyes land on them; two bright, mischievous eyes staring right at him. 

  “C'mon, throw it back, man.”  

Tae Rae turns his eyes back to his notebook, scrunching his nose. “Didn't God gift you those legs? Go pick it up yourself.”  

The tall and athletic boy with the ink black hair pouts like a spoiled brat not getting his way, walking towards him cross-armed and picking up the ball with protest, flopping next to him on the first step of the tribune with a dramatic sigh. 

Tae Rae flicks his gaze toward him, just for a second. The afternoon light from the high windows spills over Ji Woong’s sharp profile, carving soft shadows along the angles of his face. His jet-black hair is damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead, his skin pale beneath the golden glow. He’s beautiful in a way that made Tae Rae’s stomach twist violently. 

His friend sighs even louder this time, shifting beside him like a restless child. Tae Rae refuses to react. When that fails to earn him any attention, Ji Woong stands abruptly, the sound of his white, worn-out sneakers scuffing against the steps. 

  “C'mon... Get your head out of that book. You know you're gonna pass that exam. Have some fun!” 

  “I'm not reckless like you.” he mutters, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Thinking I'll pass without ever opening a book. You can't rely on just your grade for P.E. and history, right?” 

Ji Woong gives him that empty-brained, silly but endearing stare. “If I don't pass the exam, that means I'll be able to stay here another year with you!”  

The brunette shoots up, whipping his head toward him so fast his glasses nearly slip off his nose. His fingers clench around his notebook. 

He should not say things like that. Not as a joke. 

It's not funny. 

Not when in Tae Rae's wildest dreams, he'd hope Ji Woong would stay with him for another year. 

Ji Woong didn’t get it. He never would.  

He didn’t understand how much the thought of him leaving twisted something deep in Tae Rae’s chest, how much the idea of him moving on, of stepping into a bigger world, meeting new people, living a new life without Tae Rae in it, made him feel like the ground was crumbling beneath him.  

They had never been apart. Not once. 

They grew up on the same street, their parents were close, they went to the same schools, walked the same paths home every morning and afternoon, spent their evenings together without fail. Even though Ji Woong was two years older, even though they had never shared the same classes, it had never mattered. Because after school, there was always this—always them. 

Spending time together after classes was all the fixity Tae Rae had in his life. It was his routine, something they'd been doing for a decade. 

But reality was catching up on them. Soon, his best friend'd be gone, off to college, off to chase his dream of playing basketball professionally. He would be surrounded by new people, swept up in a world where everyone wanted a piece of him. As if that wasn't already the case in high school, except now, Tae Rae had control over the situation. He could influence him, he was posted about Ji Woong's daily struggles. When they'd be separated, Tae Rae would live in fear that one day, Ji Woong would replace him with someone else, someone better.  

And Tae Rae knew, there were a lot of people out there better than him. 

One day — someday — Tae Rae knew he’d meet someone, a girl, stunning and bright and perfect. In the same league as him. Someone who deserved him. 

Because girls already adored Ji Woong. They always had. He’d been asked out more times than Tae Rae could count, and sometimes, Ji Woong would say yes, even if the relationships never lasted long. He always lost interest quickly, never made time for them, and when they came to Tae Rae for advice — because, of course, Ji Woong had sent them to him — Tae Rae had to swallow down the bitterness in his throat and pretend he wasn’t...  

Tae Rae had always been his supporter, the one he'd go to for advice in relationships. It's ironic considering Tae Rae has no experience in dating, but Ji Woong thought he was more mature, and maybe, also saw his best friends' opinions as valuable.  

Unknowing to him, Tae Rae is anything but unbiased. 

Because Tae Rae, is utterly and disgustingly in love with him. 

Has been, for a while.

An unbelievable amount of time. 

But Tae Rae is also a coward. A massive one. 

It’s already a miracle that Ji Woong still held him close, that he never let the weight of their differences pull them apart.

Their reputations couldn’t have been more opposing — the golden boy, the head of the basketball team, tall and gorgeous, kind and effortlessly likable. And Tae Rae… Tae Rae's a nobody. A glasses-wearing, sharp-tongued, awkward thing. Too short. Too snappy. Too unlikeable . And worst of all, too openly queer. 

Sometimes, he wonders if he’s just an inconvenience to Ji Woong. 

If he’s a burden to be carried rather than a friend to be cherished. 

People tolerated Tae Rae at best, ignored him at worst. He doesn’t belong in Ji Woong’s orbit. If it wasn’t for his connection to the school’s basketball superstar, he has no doubt he would’ve been an easy target, another name whispered in hushed voices or pushed to the outskirts of the crowd. 

People are semi-nice to him because he's Ji Woong 's friend.  

Nothing more, nothing less.  

It had only stopped, the teasing, when Ji Woong had stood up for him. When the rumors spread and Ji Woong, without hesitation, shut them down. That day, the jeers quieted, the bullies took a step back, and Tae Rae found himself surviving his high school days in the fragile shield of Ji Woong’s presence. 

But sometimes, when the nights stretched too long and his thoughts grew too heavy, he wondered;  

Was he dragging Ji Woong down with him? 

Would Ji Woong have been better off if they had never been close? 

Would his life have been easier without the burden of being friends with someone like Tae Rae? 

And that’s when it hit him.  

That he had no right to feel this possessive, no reason to be so terrified of losing him. 

Because Ji Woong is leaving. 

Soon.  

That's the way the world works. 

He would finally be free; free to chase his dreams, to step into the world waiting for him with open arms. He would shine like he was always meant to, untethered, unstoppable.  

And Tae Rae would no longer be there to hold him back. 

~ * ~

They take this route home every day after basketball practice, despite Tae Rae’s repeated insistence that he can walk alone. He doesn’t want Ji Woong to feel obligated, doesn’t want to burden him with the added responsibility of staying after just to watch. But Ji Woong never listens. He insists on walking him home, citing safety, his mother’s overprotectiveness, even apologizing for making Tae Rae wait while he finishes practice. 

As if that’s what bothers Tae Rae. 

Truthfully, he doesn’t mind. He likes watching Ji Woong play, watching him move effortlessly across the court, free like a bird. The way he looks so genuinely happy and weightless.  

Now, as they walk, Ji Woong tips back his water bottle, squeezing out the last few drops. Tae Rae stares straight ahead, pretending he doesn’t notice the way his throat moves, the way the evening light casts highlights in his hair. 

  "Look," Ji Woong says suddenly, pointing upward. "It’s so pretty." 

Tae Rae follows his gaze. The sky is shifting, deep orange melting into soft pink, a watercolor blur of warmth. Ji Woong has a fascination with night skies. He always points out the beauty of nature around him whenever they stroll through the quiet streets of their remote little town. 

  “It’s pretty.” Tae Rae agrees, a little distracted, kicking a loose rock. It bounces off a lamppost and rolls back toward them. 

From the corner of his eye, he catches Ji Woong watching him, an amused flicker in his expression. Then, suddenly, Ji Woong tugs at his sleeve. “It's the same color, the sky, as your cardigan.” 

Tae Rae glances down at his clothes. “I think my cardigan is more of a peach color.” 

Ji Woong shrugs. "I like it regardless. It suits you." 

The words are simple, offhanded, but Tae Rae feels warmth creep up his neck anyway. Before he can think too much about it, Ji Woong’s eyes narrow in mock suspicion. 

  "Now that I think about it… you’ve been dressing differently lately. Don’t tell me…" His grin widens. "You like someone?" 

Tae Rae wiggles his eyebrows in confusion. 

  “Do you like someone? Oh, you must like someone!” Ji Woong pulls his arm playfully. “C'mon, bro, tell me. Do I know him?” 

  “Why does me dressing differently equate to me liking someone? You're so annoying.” Tae Rae says as he playfully pushes Ji Woong, never really liking it too much when Ji Woong clings to him. After all, Tae Rae’s not a physically affectionate person, especially not with the person he tries to pretend he doesn't have feelings for. 

Ji Woong laughs, adjusting the strap of his bag. "I’m just joking. I just wanna root for you, you know?" He flashes a peace sign, stupidly charming, and Tae Rae hates how easily his lips curve into a small, reluctant smile because his friend is too endearing to ignore. "You know," Ji Woong continues, like an afterthought, "There’s this junior on the team, Matthew. I think he’s gay. We were talking during basketball camp, and he mentioned an ex-boyfriend. Is he your type?" 

He tenses. 

Tae Rae hates it when Ji Woong tries to set him up with other guys. Hates it even more because it just proves, over and over again, how kind he is. How good he is. How effortlessly accepting he is. 

And how completely, painfully unattainable he is. 

Tae Rae keeps his eyes on the pavement, pushing down the knot in his stomach. "Matthew’s cute," he says carefully. "But he’s not my type." 

Ji Woong tilts his head, considering. Then he nods, slow and thoughtful.  

  "Okay. Noted." 

~ * ~

Tae Rae doesn’t like it when Ji Woong touches him. 

He doesn’t like it at all. 

Because every time Ji Woong’s fingers graze his skin, every time he lingers too close, it stirs something in him. Something warm and unbearable, something that makes his stomach twist in ways he doesn’t know how to handle. 

But he doesn’t move. 

He blinks awake from a midday nap, still groggy, the weight of last night’s restless thoughts pressing behind his eyes. He barely remembers falling asleep, but somehow, he’s ended up here, stretched out across the wooden bleachers, his head resting on Ji Woong’s lap. 

And Ji Woong is touching him. 

His fingers move with quiet care, tucking stray strands behind Tae Rae’s ear, brushing over the curve of his cheek in the process. It’s absentminded, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he’s done it a thousand times before. 

Tae Rae forgets how to breathe. 

What’s the appropriate response to this? Should he pretend to be unfazed, let Ji Woong continue as if nothing is out of the ordinary? Or should he sit up, put distance between them, stop himself from getting too comfortable with something he knows he shouldn’t want? 

But moving away would be suspicious. 

And so he stays, heart pounding against his ribs. 

  “Don’t you have… practice?” Tae Rae mutters, voice thick with sleep, unwilling to meet Ji Woong’s gaze. 

Ji Woong hums, the sound low and lazy. “In a few minutes.” 

Tae Rae forces a small nod, shifting just enough to grab his notebook and place it in front of his face; a flimsy excuse for a shield, something to hide behind. But Ji Woong’s hand doesn’t waver. His fingers remain tangled in Tae Rae’s hair, idly twirling a strand, his touch feather-light. 

It’s maddening. 

  “You know,” Ji Woong murmurs, his voice soft, almost thoughtful, “in the sunlight, your hair looks quite brown.” 

Tae Rae grips the edge of his notebook, pulse stuttering. 

~ * ~

  “Do you already know who you're going to ask for the senior prom?”  

Ricky takes a slow sip of his overly sweet strawberry milk, the contrast between the drink and his usual detached demeanor almost jarring. He always looks effortlessly cool: relaxed, unreadable, perpetually over it. Tae Rae has never been able to figure him out, never sure if Ricky is just naturally composed or if he simply doesn’t vibe with him. 

But he's in the basketball team, and Ji Woong's friend.  

Which means Tae Rae often finds himself stuck in moments like this; third-wheeling their conversations, pretending to be preoccupied with his English book while carefully tuning into every word. He sits there, textbook open, a bubblegum pop punctuating the lull in conversation, while Ricky drinks, Ji Woong eats, and he listens. 

Ji Woong scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know yet.” His voice is casual. But something about it makes Tae Rae’s fingers tighten around the pages of his book. “You need a date, right?” 

Ricky shrugs, unimpressed. “I’ll just wait for the first girl to ask me out, I guess.” 

Tae Rae wants this conversation to end. Now.   

He doesn’t want to hear Ji Woong’s answer, doesn’t want to know what kind of person he’d want to take to prom. He’s not in the mood to sit through another reminder of how inevitable this is, how Ji Woong will end up with someone, how it won’t be him, how it was never going to be him. 

God, leave this heartbreak for another day. 

  “You?” Ricky suddenly asks, his head swiftly turning towards Tae Rae, as if suddenly acknowledging his presence before him.  

Tae Rae barely has time to process the question before Ji Woong interjects, quick and easy. “He’s not in his senior year.” 

  “Oh…” Ricky drawls, dragging out the syllable as he rests his elbow against his knee. “I just assumed, since you two are always together.” 

The younger one sets his book down, trying to play it off. “We grew up together.” 

  “I see.” Ricky’s gaze flickers to Ji Woong for a second before he places his drink beside him on the wooden bleachers. Then he says it; casual, almost thoughtless, but it lands like a punch to the gut. 

  “But you’re always here waiting for Ji Woong. Don’t you have people in your grade to hang out with?” 

Tae Rae’s stomach drops. 

His heart stutters in his chest, a tight, squeezing sensation creeping up his throat.  

Don’t you have people in your grade to hang out with?  

You’re always here…  

Was he being annoying? 

Was he lingering too much? 

Had Ji Woong noticed, too? Had he ever thought about it: wondered why Tae Rae always hovered around, why he never seemed to be with anyone else? 

The words stick to the back of his throat like something sharp, something heavy, something he doesn’t know how to dislodge. He stares down at his book, not really seeing the words anymore, fingers pressed tightly against the pages as if they might hold him together. 

He can’t even bring himself to look at Ji Woong. 

But then, he doesn’t have to. 

  “And what's the problem with that?” 

Tae Rae swallows, his throat dry. 

It’s disorienting. 

Ji Woong has never looked like this before. 

Sure, Tae Rae has seen him serious; during games, when he’s focused, when he’s pushing himself past exhaustion. He’s seen him quiet, thoughtful, even sad. But this is something else entirely. 

It’s restrained, but it’s there, crackling in the way Ji Woong’s fingers tighten against his knee, in the sharp way his eyes hold onto Ricky, unrelenting. It’s in his voice, controlled but unmistakably firm, like he's keeping himself from lashing out. Like it actually matters to him. 

Like Tae Rae actually matters to him. 

Ricky’s flimsy smile wavers further, like he’s unsure if he should play it off or actually take the warning. He exhales through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck before finally speaking. 

  “Relax, man,” he says, voice dipping into something light, something dismissive. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

Ji Woong doesn’t reply. 

Not immediately. He just stares, gaze steady, unreadable. He’s always had this way about him; this ability to mask what he’s really feeling behind a well-placed grin. But right now, he’s not smiling. 

And Tae Rae doesn’t know why, but his chest feels tight. 

Then, just as suddenly as it came, Ji Woong exhales, the tension in his shoulders loosening. His expression smooths out, but his fingers remain curled, his posture still slightly stiff. 

  “If you didn’t mean anything by it,” Ji Woong finally says, his tone softer now, but still firm, still unwavering, “then don’t say things like that.” 

He picks up his chopsticks again, bringing a bite of rice to his mouth, like this conversation is over. But there’s something different in the way he moves. 

Tae Rae doesn’t realize he’s staring until Ji Woong’s eyes flick toward him. 

And for a second — just a split second — that sharpness softens. 

~ * ~

The summer heat is relentless, soaking into the pavement until even the shadows offer no relief. The air hums with cicadas, their droning song tangled with the distant laughter of students too exhausted to move, too restless to stay still. 

The classroom is stifling, a sauna masquerading as a place of learning, where textbooks stick to sweaty forearms and the ceiling fan groans under the weight of its own futility. Tae Rae feels like he’s wilting, his body caught between the slow pull of sleep and the sharper edge of unconsciousness. He rests his head on folded arms, cheek pressed against the cool surface of his desk, eyes half-lidded as they drift toward the window. 

Outside, the world is blinding. The track shimmers under waves of heat, the earth hazy. The boys run in slow motion, their forms distorted by the rippling mirage. Ji Woong is among them, his jersey clinging to his back, damp hair clumped against his forehead. His face is flushed, burning red like a midsummer sunset, but he doesn’t falter. 

He never does. 

Ji Woong lives for basketball.  

Even as the sun beats down mercilessly, even as sweat drips down his temples, even as the air itself seems to conspire against him, he keeps going. His smile, though tired, is unwavering, his steps never slowing. 

Because Ji Woong isn’t just running. 

He’s chasing something bigger than the heat. He’s chasing a dream. 

And no summer, no matter how unforgiving, will ever burn that out of him. 

When Tae Rae walks home that afternoon, Ji Woong chases him breathlessly, his sneakers scuffing against the sidewalk as he progresses.  

  “Wait, hold up...” Ji Woong huffs, his breath coming in uneven gasps. He grabs Tae Rae’s wrist just briefly, just enough to slow him down before letting go. “Why didn't you wait?” 

Tae Rae doesn’t stop walking, only swipes his sleeve against his damp forehead. “It’s too hot. And besides, I didn’t want to be a bother at practice again.” 

Ji Woong swallows audibly, looking away, his expression caught somewhere between guilt and frustration. “You know Ricky didn’t mean it like that,” he says quietly. “I like it when you’re there. I’ll never find it bothersome.” 

The words hang between them, heavy and fragile all at once. Tae Rae doesn’t answer. He keeps walking, his steps slower now. They move shoulder to shoulder, the space between them small, but vast in a way. The sky above them is painted in hues of peach and violet, streaked with the last remnants of the sun’s warmth, but Tae Rae barely notices. It's as if that specific color has become reminiscent of their relationship, bright pastels, but slowly fading, making room for darkness. 

Not just the representative colors of their relationship, but the colors of their youth. 

Tae Rae kicks a pebble along the sidewalk. “Still,” he mutters, eyes fixed on the ground. “I don’t want people thinking I have nothing better to do than sit around waiting for you.” 

Ji Woong chuckles, the sound light and easy, but when Tae Rae glances up at him, there’s something softer behind his expression. “I like having you there,” Ji Woong says again, quieter this time. “Even if you’re just sitting on the bleachers, even if you’re reading that same old book for the hundredth time... I like it.” 

Tae Rae swallows, a strange warmth unfurling in his chest that has nothing to do with the summer heat. 

They pass by a convenience store, the bright neon sign flickering against the encroaching dusk. Ji Woong stops suddenly, tugging at the hem of Tae Rae’s shirt. “Let’s get something cold. My treat.” 

~ * ~

Ji Woong has a thing for pretentious jazz; music that twists and turns unpredictably, heavy with intricate solos and time signatures Tae Rae can't quite follow. Tae Rae, on the other hand, prefers something smoother, lighter — catchy pop hooks that don’t make his brain work overtime. It’s ironic, really, considering he’s the musician between them. 

They’re constantly skipping songs in their shared playlist, their tastes clashing in a battle of the aux. 

  “C’mon… IVE next.” 

  “Let me finish this song first, please.” 

Tae Rae groans dramatically, kicking his feet back and forth like a child denied dessert. They’re sprawled out on a picnic blanket in his backyard, both in their swimming trunks, the nearby pool shimmering under the heavy summer sun. The chaotic, mathematically undecipherable jazz filters through the air 

  “Alright then, history quiz.” Tae Rae says with a flat tone, flipping the page of his book. “Which countries were the main expansionists during the Western imperialist era?” 

The older one bites his pen.  “France, Portugal, Germany—” 

  “Germany was a latecomer.” Tae Rae corrects, a mischief in his wry smile. 

Unimpressed, Ji Woong narrows his eyes. “They still had colonies. And wasn’t one of the main points of the Treaty of Versailles to divide those colonies among the Allies? If they weren’t a threat, why would France and the U.K. even bother taking them?” 

Tae Rae grins. “Wow, did you actually read the book for once?” 

  “I told you, I’m not dumb. I like history. It’s just everything else that’s uninteresting.” 

All Tae Rae can do is hum as a response to that defensiveness, flipping to a random page. “Alright, then—explain the Yugoslav Wars.” 

Without any hesitation, Ji Woong speaks. “Early 1990s. Tito dies, the Balkans fracture, some countries want to separate, others resist, and it escalates into a brutal civil war.” 

  “Srebrenica?” 

Ji Woong’s expression shifts slightly, brow furrowing as he speaks. “Genocide, thousands of Bosnjaks killed, partly due to the negligence of the UN peacekeepers. But… wait, that’s not in our schoolbook?” 

It's met by a shake of the head. “Nope. But I think you’ve got history in the bag. No need to study anymore.” 

Ji Woong smirks, voice taking on an exaggerated lilt. “Yeah, of course I’ll slay. ” 

  “Never say that again.” 

  “Fine, fine. But can we go swim now? I’m melting out here.” Ji Woong laughs, stretching his arms out with a groan. 

It's merely a tradition for them. Ever since they were younger, they'd crash at Tae Rae's house and study and moan in his garden, swim in between breaks to give their entangled minds a cleanse. However, Ji Woong's gone from a scrawny little boy to an athletic young adult, and while Tae Rae used to not be too distracted by his physique in the past, it's gotten harder and harder every day to ignore Ji Woong's presence before him, ignoring the way the water drips from Ji Woong’s white skin, tracing paths down his toned shoulders. When Ji Woong tilts his head back, running a hand through his wet hair, Tae Rae swallows against the dryness in his throat. 

  “C’mon, princess.” Ji Woong’s voice is teasing, full of laughter as he kicks up water toward the edge of the pool. 

Tae Rae flinches at both the splash and the name. “Never call me that again.” 

The raven-haired man's grins oozes with mischief. He leans his arms against the ledge, looking entirely too relaxed. “I will if you come in.” 

All Tae Rae can do is scoff, but his resolve is already crumbling. It’s hot, and the pool looks inviting. The problem is him, who’s become impossible to ignore, who’s turned into someone who makes Tae Rae’s stomach twist. 

Ji Woong must see the hesitation because his grin widens. “You’re thinking about it.” 

  “Shut up.” Tae Rae rolls his eyes. 

Ji Woong doesn’t shut up. Oppositely, he reaches out, water droplets glistening on his skin, and tugs at Tae Rae’s wrist. His grip is warm and steady. 

  “Come on,” Ji Woong says again, softer this time. “Just jump.” 

And maybe it’s the heat, or the way Ji Woong is looking at him, but Tae Rae exhales and lets himself fall. Tank top and all. When he resurfaces, a sharp splash of water greets him straight in the face. 

  “Took you long enough.” Ji Woong teases, already retreating to the other end of the pool with an easy laugh. 

Tae Rae gasps, coughing out a mouthful of chlorine. “Oh, you're dead.” 

And then it’s war. A civil war where no citizen gets spared. They lunge and splash, shoving each other under, hands grasping at slick skin and damp fabric as they wrestle like kids with no concept of time. Tae Rae gets dunked more times than he can count, but he gives as good as he gets, pushing Ji Woong beneath the surface just to hear him come up sputtering. 

Ji Woong’s hair is a disaster, soaked and sticking to his forehead in uneven clumps, and Tae Rae barks out a laugh every time he gets a look at him. Because there's something specifically satisfying seeing a totally perfect individual look a mess.

Time slips away in the whirlwind of the hush of water sloshing against the pool’s edge. It’s only when their limbs grow heavy that they finally call it quits. Dragging themselves onto the grass, they collapse onto the sun-warmed picnic blanket, chests rising and falling with exhaustion.  

Tae Rae stretches his arms over his head, his wet tank top clinging to his stomach, but he’s too comfortable to care. Beside him, Ji Woong sighs contentedly, hands resting behind his head, eyes shut. His torso expands and deflates as he inhales and exhales. 

  “We should get back to studying.” Tae Rae mumbles. 

Ji Woong hums, cracking one eye open. “In a minute.” 

They lapse into silence, the kind that isn’t awkward or expectant—just easy. The kind that only comes with years of knowing each other, of existing in the same space without needing to fill every second with words. 

Tae Rae turns his head slightly, watching Ji Woong from the corner of his eye. The way the sunlight catches on his damp skin, the stray droplets of water tracing slow paths down his collarbone, the steady rise and fall of his chest.  

Ji Woong always looks so effortlessly at peace, like nothing in the world could rattle him. 

It’s unfair. 

  “You’re staring.” 

Tae Rae jolts, his body tensing before he forces himself to scoff. “Your hair looks ridiculous.” 

  “And yet, you’re still looking.” 

Tae Rae clicks his tongue, shoving Ji Woong’s shoulder just hard enough to make him shift on the blanket. Ji Woong only laughs, a soft, lazy sound, before turning his face back toward the sky. 

The moment lingers, stretches. The sun beats down, warm and drowsy, and Tae Rae lets his eyes flutter shut. 

Somewhere deep down, in the part of himself he rarely acknowledges, he knows, this summer, these moments, the way Ji Woong’s voice sounds when he teases, the way his presence fills the air like something familiar and war, it’s not something he’ll be able to hold onto forever. 

This might be their last summer together like this. 

That inevitable summer. 

~ * ~

  “And with 122 points, the winners are… Yangju High!” 

The announcement is met with a deafening roar; cheers from the opposing team, scattered applause, and the heavy sound of disappointment settling over Ji Woong’s teammates. Ricky is on his knees, hands gripping his hair, while Matthew hurls the ball across the court in frustration before turning his back on the stands. 

Ji Woong smiles. 

What else is there to do? As co-captain, with their leader Han Bin sidelined by a broken ankle, he had done everything he could. He held the team together through the frustration, the doubt, the weight of expectations. He had carried them this far. Now, he carries the loss too. 

It’s their last game.  

And not every last game is a triumphant one. 

If this were some cliché high school movie, they would have won against the odds, celebrated their final match draped in glory. But this isn’t a movie, it’s real life. And in real life, sometimes the buzzer sounds, and you’re left standing on the losing side. 

Tae Rae watches as Ji Woong moves through his team, wearing a smile that stretches too wide, too forced. He pulls his sobbing teammates off the ground, pats their backs, offers them words of encouragement that he doesn’t afford himself. He even climbs into the stands to hug an emotionally distressed Han Bin, telling him over and over that it wasn’t his fault. That they lost, but they lost together. 

But when the gym clears and Tae Rae slips into the locker room to check on him, Ji Woong isn’t standing tall anymore. 

He’s behind the lockers, sitting in silence. And for the first time all night, he’s not smiling. 

  “You guys did your best.” Tae Rae says, quietly. 

Tae Rae watches as Ji Woong exhales sharply, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of everything he’s been holding in. His hands are curled into fists against his knees, his head bowed low, dark hair falling into his eyes. The bright, easygoing smile he wore just minutes ago is gone, wiped away like chalk on pavement after the rain. 

  "I know..." Ji Woong says again, his voice strained, barely above a whisper. "But it still sucks." 

Tae Rae doesn't know what to say to that. Of course it sucks. Of course it hurts. This was supposed to be their last moment, the closing chapter to Ji Woong's biggest arc in his youth, his love for basketball. Because in his time growing up, his passion for the sport had always been the one thing that stayed unchanged.  

But now, all Ji Woong is left with is the sting of what could have been, just a bitter ending. 

The only sound is the distant echo of voices from outside the locker room, the muffled cheers of the winning team celebrating, footsteps fading away down the hall. 

Then Ji Woong lifts his head, and his eyes meet Tae Rae’s; raw, open, unguarded in a way that's foreign to him. 

  “…Can I hug you?” Ji Woong asks. His voice is uneven, his usual confidence stripped away, leaving behind nothing but quiet vulnerability. 

Tae Rae's heart stumbles in his chest.  

He’s not sure why those words hit him so hard, why they make his breath catch and his fingers twitch at his sides. It's just a hug of comfort. Nothing more. 

But he nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, of course.” 

And then Ji Woong is reaching for him, pulling him in with desperation. He buries his face against Tae Rae’s shoulder, arms tightening around him like he’s afraid to let go. Tae Rae stills for a moment, then slowly wraps his arms around Ji Woong in return. His heart is hammering against his ribs, loud enough that he wonders if Ji Woong can hear it. But he doesn’t pull away. He lets Ji Woong hold onto him, lets himself hold Ji Woong in return. 

Slowly, he feels a wetness against his neck. 

Ji Woong better stay there, unmoving, buried in his neck so that Tae Rae's unable to see it. 

Because he's unsure if he's able to keep himself grounded if he witnesses tears falling from Ji Woong's eyes. 

~ * ~

Tae Rae has blind-picked a terrible movie for the occasion. As if Ji Woong's not already down in the mouth enough, this movie is so bad, but not even in a laughable way to ease the tedious day. 

The movie had seemed fine at first; some action-packed, mindless film Tae Rae picked purely to distract Ji Woong. But now, for some reason, the characters on screen have abandoned all sense of plot and are tangled up in a heated, borderline obscene sex scene – gay sex, nonetheless. To even speak about reading the goddamn room. 

He stiffens instantly, eyes glued to the screen, not because he wants to watch but because he doesn't know where else to look. His entire body feels like it's burning. This is embarrassing, watching this with your crush, who nonetheless is in a vulnerable state. 

Next to him, Ji Woong doesn’t seem fazed at all. He’s still slouched against the couch, fingers idly playing with the hem of his shirt, watching with the same unreadable expression he’s had all night. 

Tae Rae swallows. The sound of ragged breathing and skin against skin fills the room, and he feels his ears go hot. 

  “Wow,” Ji Woong finally says, breaking the thick silence. “This is... graphic.” 

Tae Rae lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Didn’t expect that.” 

Ji Woong shifts on the couch. “Do gay people really have sex like that?” 

Tae Rae coughs violently, his throat burning as the soda fizzes up the wrong way. He bends forward, clutching his chest, eyes watering while Ji Woong watches him with mild amusement. 

  “Are you-” Ji Woong raises an eyebrow. “Are you okay?” 

  “No, I'm not okay,” Tae Rae wheezes, still sputtering. “Ji Woong, what fucking question is that?!” 

Ji Woong shrugs, like he didn’t just casually ask something capable of derailing Tae Rae's entire nervous system. “I am just curious.” He says with a childlike curiosity that's highly deceiving and highly untrue.

Tae Rae wipes his mouth aggressively, still coughing. He’s not looking at Ji Woong. He can’t. Not when his ears are burning and his thoughts are spinning in a million different directions. 

  “I-” Tae Rae swallows thickly. “How the hell would I know?” 

Ji Woong hums, like he's actually considering this. His gaze flickers back to the now-muted screen, where the actors are still tangled together, their movements exaggerated and feverish. 

Then, and only then, does Tae Rae realize the implication. Ji Woong assumes he doesn’t know because he assumes Tae Rae is inexperienced. That he’s never— 

Oh.  

Tae Rae swears he feels his soul momentarily leave his body. 

Ji Woong finally turns his head, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, his expression unreadable. “So... you really don’t know?” 

  “I mean, I know, but I don't-” 

Ji Woong watches him. His gaze is steady, his fingers still playing idly with the hem of his shirt. The fabric stretches and pulls, exposing just a hint of paperwhite skin, and Tae Rae's stomach flips violently. 

He tilts his head slightly, his voice lower when he speaks next. “So you've... never?” 

Tae Rae swears the temperature in the room jumps ten degrees. His body feels hot, too hot, and it's definitely not from the residual summer heat. He's so flustered, and so unable to answer that question, he instead throws back a question he instantly regrets asking.  

  “I could ask you the same.” 

Ji Woong points at himself. “If I've ever done it?” 

The brunette gives him a small, shy nod, although his mind is screaming no, no, no, no, God, why did I ask that? I don't even want to know . 

Of course, Ji Woong has.

He knows the answer.

But he doesn't want to know the answer. He doesn't want to imagine it in any way. 

Ji Woong leans back against the couch, his hands still fidgeting. He looks contemplative for a moment, his lips pressed together as if debating whether or not to answer. Then, finally- 

  “No.” 

  “Huh?” Tae Rae blinks, perplexed. 

Ji Woong glances at him. “I haven’t.” 

For a second, all Tae Rae can hear is the low hum of the TV and the distant buzz of cicadas outside. His mind completely short-circuits. 

  “What do you mean, you haven’t?” His voice comes out more incredulous than intended. 

Ji Woong chuckles at that, shaking his head. “What, is it that hard to believe?” 

Yes. Yes, it is.  

Ji Woong is — well, Ji Woong.  

He’s effortlessly charming, good-looking in a way that makes people trip over themselves, confident in a way that makes it easy to assume he’s done everything. Tae Rae had never questioned it. Never even considered the possibility that Ji Woong might be in the same boat as him. 

  “I just thought—” Tae Rae stops himself. I just thought you were the kind of guy who had already given himself to someone. He can’t say that out loud, though. 

Ji Woong watches him carefully, his gaze flickering over Tae Rae’s face, as if picking apart every reaction. “Disappointed?” 

Tae Rae’s breath catches in his throat. “What? No–why would I be—” 

Ji Woong shifts slightly, turning toward him, his knee pressing lightly against Tae Rae’s thigh. It’s casual, unintentional maybe, but Tae Rae’s skin feels like it’s been set on fire. 

  “No reason,” Ji Woong says, voice slowly subduing. 

There’s a silence between them. The movie continues playing in the background, but neither of them are watching it anymore. 

Ji Woong’s hand is still toying with his shirt, fingers dragging over the fabric, grazing the sliver of exposed skin beneath. Tae Rae’s gaze flickers there—only for a second, barely a second—but Ji Woong notices. Of course he notices. 

And then, slowly, deliberately, Ji Woong stretches his arms above his head, his shirt riding up just a little higher, exposing more of his stomach, the sharp cut of his hipbones. 

Tae Rae immediately looks away, ears burning.  

God, what is he even doing...  

He drops his arms again and shifts closer, just barely, just enough that their legs press against each other, warmth seeping through the thin fabric of their shorts. 

Tae Rae swallows hard. His heart is pounding, his entire body on high alert. He doesn’t know what Ji Woong's trying or if there’s something else here, something deeper, something he’s been too afraid to acknowledge. 

Because for the first time, Ji Woong isn’t just some untouchable, faraway dream. He’s right here, inches away, close enough that Tae Rae can see the lazy curve of his lips, the way his dark eyes gleam under the dim light of the TV screen. 

And for the first time, Tae Rae wonders... 

If I reached out, would he let me touch him?  

  “What the hell are you guys watching?” 

Tae Rae jolts, his whole body snapping upright as his sister stands frozen in the doorway, eyes wide with absolute horror. 

On the screen, the moans are unmistakable. The actors are still tangled up in some overly dramatic, borderline ridiculous love scene, and in any other situation, Tae Rae would’ve laughed at the absurdity of it. Right now, though, he wants to melt into the couch and cease to exist. 

Ji Woong, for his part, remains unfazed. 

Her gaze darts between them, suspicion creeping into her expression. “Are you guys seriously watching this together?” 

  “It’s not what it looks like.” Tae Rae blurts out, which, in hindsight, is the worst possible thing he could say. 

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And what exactly does it look like?” 

Ji Woong chuckles under his breath. “You walked in at the wrong time.” He says matter-of-factly. 

  “You think?” She gestures wildly toward the screen, where the scene is still going , and oh my God, Tae Rae needs to turn it off before he dies of secondhand embarrassment. He fumbles for the remote, nearly knocking over his diet coke in the process. 

  “This was his choice, by the way,” Ji Woong adds, shamelessly throwing Tae Rae under the bus. 

His sister snorts. “Wow, really? Didn’t know you were into this kind of thing, Tae Rae.” 

  “I didn’t know this was in the movie!” 

Ji Woong leans back against the couch, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, it was… educational.” 

Tae Rae shoots him a glare, but Ji Woong just grins. 

His sister looks between them again, her eyes narrowing slightly, and for a split second, Tae Rae worries she’s about to say something really dangerous. But instead, she just rolls her eyes and sighs. 

  “Whatever. Just don’t traumatize Mom and Dad with your… film choices.” She turns on her heel and disappears down the hall. 

The second she’s gone, the tension collapses in on itself. 

Tae Rae groans, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my God. I hate you.” 

Ji Woong laughs, unbothered as ever. “Hate is a big word.” 

Tae Rae groans louder. “Stop talking .” 

~ * ~

It's a week before the exams, and Tae Rae and Ji Woong have locked themselves up, studying until exhaustion, from nine in the morning to excruciating late night hours. It's safe to say every single braincell Tae Rae had left has been fried, nothing about this abstract world even making sense anymore. He's lost the ability to live in the here and now, he feels like a shadow on earth, braindead. 

The room is bathed in a soft amber glow, the bedside lamp dimmed to its lowest setting as Tae Rae doesn't like sleeping in the dark and Ji Woong doesn't like sleeping with the lights on. Outside, the world is quiet, the late-night air thick with the occasional rustle of trees and the droning sound of insects crying out into the night. Inside, Tae Rae and Ji Woong lie sprawled on the bed, textbooks and loose papers scattered around them, casualties of their grueling night of studying. 

They've done sleepovers since the end of time, since they were little. Even as the two grew older, they'd continue to share the same doubter bed, even if it's gotten more cramped by the years. Tae Rae's never suggested anything else, scared it would only raise questions with Ji Woong why Tae Rae would suddenly opt for the sofa in the living room. 

Tae Rae blinks drowsily at the ceiling, exhaustion weighing heavy on his limbs. “We should sleep,” he mutters, voice sluggish. 

  “Mm.” Ji Woong shifts beside him, resting on one elbow as he lazily turns his head toward Tae Rae. It's impressive really, how after a day of continuous studying, his eyes still light up in the same way, his Hyung lively even when worn to a frazzle. 

  “What?” Tae Rae whispers with a sharpness to it when Ji Woong stares at him for way too long, way too intensely. 

Ji Woong reaches for his hand, lifting it with an exaggerated air of mystery. “Let me read your palm.” 

Tae Rae huffs out a tired laugh. “You know how to do that?” 

  “Nope.” Ji Woong grins. “But I’ll make something up.” 

His best friend is random like that sometimes, he's grown accustomed to it. Tae Rae lets his head fall to the side, watching as Ji Woong’s fingers trace the lines of his palm, slow and deliberate. His touch is light, but it leaves a strange, tingling warmth in its wake. 

  “This one,” Ji Woong murmurs, running a fingertip over the longest crease, “is your life line. Pretty solid. You’ll live a long time.” 

  “Good to know.” 

Ji Woong’s thumb moves to another line, brushing over it in a way that makes Tae Rae’s breath catch, though he isn’t sure why. “And this one…” Ji Woong pauses, voice quieter now. “This is your heart line.” 

The only thing Tae Rae can do is swallow, hard. Ji Woong’s touch lingers, his thumb pressing gently into the center of Tae Rae’s palm, warm and steady. He doesn’t say anything else. 

Tae Rae watches him, his pulse suddenly loud in his ears.  

  “It looks like your heart is complicated.” He lets go, rolling onto his back. “You have a lot of things on your mind.” 

Tae Rae swallows hard, focusing on the warmth of Ji Woong's soft, cushiony fingertips, the tracing almost tingly.  

It's true. Tae Rae's head is like a dumpster turned upside down, roaming through the piles and piles of trash, but feeling helpless being unable to sort it out. And it seems like every other day, a new trash bag gets added for Tae Rae to rummage through, aimlessly. 

But Ji Woong won't and can't know what is occupying his mind. 

Therefore, Tae Rae simply deflects.  

  “What is going on in your mind, Ji Woong?” 

The older one flutters his eyelashes. “Me? Hmm...”  

Tae Rae never gets an answer though, because as Ji Woong seems to contemplate, his eyes slowly fall shut. He gets the hint, he's about to doze off. 

But as Ji Woong slowly leaves this earth, Tae Rae notices; how in the meantime their fingers have intertwined with each other. 

His breath stills. 

He stares at their joined hands, at the way Ji Woong’s fingers have effortlessly slipped between his own, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The grip isn’t tight, not deliberate, just there, lingering in the quiet space between them. If Tae Rae wanted to, he could pull away. But he doesn’t. He's a little selfish, after all. 

Ji Woong’s breathing evens out, his chest rising and falling steadily. His beautifully sculptured face looks peaceful in sleep, free of the weight he’s been carrying. Tae Rae wonders what’s going through his head, what thoughts he’d never voiced before drifting off. 

Slowly, carefully, Tae Rae shifts to his side, just enough to watch Ji Woong’s face. He feels something in his chest squeeze, melancholia, but also, ultimate bliss.  

Ji Woong is here. Holding his hand. And Tae Rae isn’t ready to let that go. Not yet. 

~ * ~ 

It's official. 

Ji Woong got scouted. 

Their basketball coach lets him know a week after the final exam results. 

Ji Woong's going to Seoul. To Yonsei University, nonetheless. A private, prestigious and highly Christian University where many of the country's top athletes' were born.  

He hugs him so tightly, Tae Rae might snap in half at any time. But while Tae Rae should be happy for him, feel warm by their tight embrace, all Tae Rae can think is in words of doom. Ji Woong's leaving, Ji Woong's leaving, Ji Woong's leaving.  

He wants to cry.  

But he tries his hardest to keep it in. Smile so broadly the corners of his lips are twitching, hurting. 

  “I thought it was over, Tae Rae.” Ji Woong mutters in his neck, his voice leaping from the emotions. “I thought I never was going to get in. But I made it. I'm one stop closer to being a professional basketball player, Tae Rae.” 

The repeating of his name hits him like a sword in his left shoulder, stinging and cold. Tae Rae swallows past the lump in his throat, his arms are still wrapped around Ji Woong, the warmth of his torso pressed tight against his own, but all he can feel is the cold creeping in from the edges. 

Ji Woong is leaving.

Ji Woong is leaving him. 

He knew it was coming. Of course, he has. It was always inevitable; Ji Woong was meant for bigger things, meant for the bright lights of Seoul, meant to run toward his future at full speed with nothing holding him back. This town was too small for his larger-than-life personality. Tae Rae is just a stop along the way, a childhood friend from a town Ji Woong will soon outgrow. He knows what he is, but that doesn't make it any less painful. 

He forces a breathless laugh, tilting his head back just enough to look Ji Woong in the eyes. “I knew you’d make it,” he says, voice steadier than he feels. “You’re Ji Woong. You were never not gonna make it.” 

Ji Woong grins, wide and bright, and it’s devastating. “You really think so?” 

  “Yeah,” Tae Rae says, even as his chest tightens, even as his fingers twitch against the fabric of Ji Woong’s shirt, aching to hold on just a little longer. “Of course.” 

He gets squeezed to death again, Ji Woong burying his face into Tae Rae’s shoulder for just a second longer before pulling away. Tae Rae wants to grab him, keep him there, freeze this moment in time. But Ji Woong is already moving forward, already thinking about what’s next. 

  “I have to tell my parents,” Ji Woong says, running a hand through his hair, eyes still alight with excitement. “And Ricky, and Han Bin-God, Gyu Vin's gonna be so pissed I got into Yonsei and he didn’t.” 

Tae Rae laughs at that. He really tries.

But it’s strained, forced. 

Ji Woong is leaving him, officially.  

And Tae Rae doesn’t know how to exist without him. 

~ * ~

  “How do I look?” 

Like the showboat he is, Ji Woong spins in slow circles in the middle of Tae Rae’s room, showing off his perfectly tailored black suit as if he's walking a runway. The fabric clings to him in all the right ways, his confidence making it look even better. Tae Rae, sprawled on his bed, kicking his feet back and forth as he watches with the scrutiny of a Drag Race judge who’s seen it all. 

  “Why do you even want my opinion?” Tae Rae deadpans, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m gay?” 

Ji Woong hums as if considering it. “No, you’re right. Your opinion is useless. Your taste in clothing is diabolical anyway.” 

Tae Rae grabs the nearest pillow and launches it at him, but Ji Woong, ever the athlete, dodges with ease. He picks it up and hurls it back with more force, and it smacks Tae Rae square in the face, him groaning in pain as a result. 

  “Okay, okay,” Tae Rae grumbles, rubbing his nose. “You look stunning. Beautiful. Showstopping. Taking my breath away. Is that what you wanted? Is your ego fed?” 

Ji Woong beams, all teeth and smugness. “Yes.” 

Tae Rae glances at his watch, avoiding the way his chest feels tight. “You should get going. Your date’s probably already waiting for you.” 

The words taste bitter, but they’re the truth. And the truth is all he’s allowed to acknowledge.

He can’t let anything slip. Not the tightness in his chest, not the way his stomach twists at the thought. He’s always been the supportive friend, the one who never flinches, never hesitates, never lets on that he feels anything at all. Just the easygoing best friend, completely unaffected by the fact that Ji Woong is about to spend the whole night with someone else.

A girl.

A girl who, by the end of the night, will probably fall for him. Because, really, who wouldn’t? Ji Woong is the most sought-after boy in school, the one everyone yearns for. When news spread that he was graduating, there had been an actual outrage, a collective mourning like the school itself couldn’t bear to let him go.

Tae Rae knows how the world works. He won’t be an obstacle. Won’t be the reason anyone questions Ji Woong’s choices. Won’t be selfish enough to say what he really thinks about whoever he’s taking out tonight.

So he does what he always does. Pretends he doesn’t care. Pretends this is just how things were always meant to be.

Because at the end of the day, who is he to change it?

He’s just Ji Woong’s best friend. Nothing more. Nothing special.

Ji Woong pauses, straightening his cuffs. “Chae Won, ah... But don’t worry, she’s like a sister to me.” 

Don’t worry.  

Why did he feel the need to say that? 

Tae Rae says nothing. He just watches as Ji Woong grabs his jacket, does one last unnecessary twirl, and heads for the door. Tae Rae forces a smirk, forces his voice to stay light. “Have fun.” 

The door closes. Tae Rae exhales. 

Prom night. A night that isn't his, that he has no right to be part of. A night where Ji Woong will dance, laugh, maybe — no, definitely — get too close to his date. And Tae Rae? He’ll stay home, watching mindless romance movies, pretending he’s not staring blankly at the screen, pretending he’s not waiting for his phone to light up. 

He's already cried too much this week. Almost every night. He's not going to pour his energy into being miserable again.

At first, the movies are a decent distraction. But then an hour passes. Then two. And then, Tae Rae's resolve starts to crack. 

He grabs his phone. Checks Ji Woong’s Instagram. Nothing.  

He checks the school’s social media, the stories of mutual friends, basketball teammates, anywhere Ji Woong might show up, just to see him in the background, to know where he is, what he’s doing. 

Nothing. 

His heart pounds. Did Ji Woong leave early? Did he go home? Or did he leave with Chae Won? 

Tae Rae rolls onto his side, gripping his phone like it might give him answers. The minutes stretch into hours, his anxiety curling tight around his ribs. 

2 AM. 

No stories. No posts. No texts.  

Ji Woong is nowhere to be found. 

hey  

how was it  

are you home yet?  

(delivered: 2:12 am) 

Tae Rae stares at his message until the words start morphing in his brain. God, his life is going to be miserable if his anxiety is already this bad when Ji Woong's away from him for a few hours, imagine him leaving for Seoul. 

Seoul, Seoul, Seoul, Seoul...  

Tae Rae wants to start crying again. Fucking Seoul. 

Why does Seoul have to mess everything up for him? 

But then- 

  taerae  

  can you come outside  

  (delivered: 2:17 am)

Tae Rae blinks. The words feel surreal, his heart tripping over itself as he hastily throws on a hoodie and slips into his sneakers. He barely registers stepping outside, the night air crisp against his skin, the streetlights casting long shadows. One blink of an eye and he's there, thick puffer jacket over his pajama's, in his fluffy slippers, standing there on the driveway of his own house.

And then he sees him. 

Ji Woong is sitting on the pavement right in front of the gate of his house, legs bent, elbows resting on his knees. His black suit jacket is crumpled, his tie loose, his hair slightly messy like he’s been running his hands through it over and over again. But what catches Tae Rae the most is his face... 

Tae Rae has seen Ji Woong annoyed, disappointed, even exhausted after a long day, but this, this is different. There’s something raw in the way he sits, like he’s unraveling at the seams. His eyes are distant, unfocused, his lips parted slightly like he’s trying to form words but can’t. It's not drunkness, they'd never permit serving alcohol at their prom, and Ji Woong is surprisingly a goody two-shoes, scared to even cross a red light and get fined. No, it's something else entirely.

Tae Rae hesitates before he speaks. “Ji Woong?” 

No response. 

Tae Rae carefully steps closer, his voice softer this time. “What happened?” 

Ji Woong exhales shakily, his fingers curling around the fabric of his pants. He looks up at Tae Rae, and it’s the first time Tae Rae has ever seen his eyes shine—not with their usual confidence, but with something closer to entanglement. 

  “I—” Ji Woong tries, but his voice falters. He swallows, looks away. “I don’t know.” 

Tae Rae kneels beside him now, his nervousness replaced by something else, something protective. “Hey… just tell me. Did something happen at prom?” 

He lets out a humorless chuckle. It’s the kind of laugh that isn’t really a laugh at all. He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.” 

  “It does if you’re sitting outside my house looking like this.” Tae Rae frowns.

Something definitely happened. Tae Rae can only imagine it having to do with his date. After all, that's really what prom is all about. Celebrating your last high school moments together with your lover, or crush, high schoolers getting a resolve to their everlasting puppy love storylines. 

Is that it? Did Ji Woong finally realize how it's like to love someone? Did he properly fall in love and is that feeling hitting him deeply?

But Ji Woong looks at him, stares prolongedly. The tension between them shifts, something heavy and unspoken hanging in the air. Tae Rae can feel the warmth of Ji Woong’s body so close to his, the scent of his cologne still lingering under the night air. 

What did Ji Woong realize?

But before Tae Rae can speculate properly about that question, Ji Woong moves all of a sudden. 

His hand reaches out first, fingers brushing against Tae Rae’s wrist before trailing up, barely ghosting over his jaw. Tae Rae sucks in a sharp breath, completely caught of guard. 

His mind blanks. 

Ji Woong is looking at him like he’s searching for something, something he’s desperate to find, and then... 

Soft lips press against his. 

It’s not rough, not urgent, just a slow, aching press, like Ji Woong is testing something, like he’s unsure if this is allowed. 

Tae Rae forgets how to breathe. 

His body locks up, heart slamming against his ribs so violently he thinks it might burst. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. Ji Woong, his best friend, the one he’s spent years suppressing every single unspoken feeling for, is kissing him. 

Ji Woong pulls back just slightly, their faces still close, his breath warm against Tae Rae’s lips. 

Tae Rae’s mind is an empty void. His skin is on fire. His pulse is in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to react. And it seems like neither does Ji Woong, who looks like he just saw a dead body. 

  “I... I gotta... go.” Before Tae Rae has blinked, Ji Woong's back up his feet again. “B-bye.” 

~ * ~

The terminal is too bright. Too loud. Too full of movement. People rush past them in all directions, families embracing, children crying, airport staff announcing final calls over the intercom. But for Tae Rae, everything is muffled. His ears are ringing. His chest feels like it’s being wrung out like a wet towel, a lump in his throat making it merely impossible for him to breathe. 

This is it.  

Ji Woong is standing in front of him, a suitcase parked next to him, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, so casual, so effortless, like this isn’t a life-altering moment. Like this isn’t the last time they’ll see each other for who knows how long. Or maybe, the last time they'll see each other forever. 

Tae Rae forces a smile, even though it feels like he might throw up. 

  “Well,” he says, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, “guess this is it.” 

Ji Woong huffs out a small, breathy laugh. “Guess so.” 

And that’s the problem. 

They’re pretending.  

Pretending that nothing happened that night outside Tae Rae’s house.  

That Ji Woong hadn’t kissed him. That Tae Rae hadn’t spent the past few weeks replaying that moment over and over in his head, trying to decipher it, trying to understand why Ji Woong had done it, why they had never spoken about it since. Life had continued, their last months together as if nothing had happened. 

But something did. Something definitely did. Tae Rae can still taste the way Ji Woong's lips tasted, even though he's tried to brush his teeth, wash his face, a thousand times. The taste still lingered, the feeling still tangible on his lips.  

But Tae Rae's a coward. He can't do it. He cannot utter the words, they're stuck in his throat, on the tip of his tongue but unable to come out.

Even now, standing in front of him, Tae Rae is screaming inside his own head – Say something. Say something before it’s too late.  

But all he manages is a forced smile. That smile he's gotten accustomed too, broad, bright, but utterly forced and fake.  

  “Don’t forget about me when you become famous.” 

Ji Woong rolls his eyes, but there’s something softer in them than usual. “As if I could.” 

The intercom crackles. Final boarding call for flight 207 to Seoul.  

Ji Woong exhales, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. “I should go.” He says, looking at the space between them. 

Tae Rae’s heart clenches. 

No.  

No, no, no, no, no.  

He should say it. He should say it. Tell Ji Woong to stay, or ask him why he kissed him, or say that he—that... he... 

  “Yeah. You should.” 

No, no, no, no.  

Ji Woong stares at him for a moment. His expression is unreadable, his lips parting slightly like he wants to say something, but then— 

He also doesn’t. 

He just steps forward, pulling Tae Rae into a tight, crushing hug. Tae Rae can feel his warmth, his heartbeat against his chest, the scent of his shampoo. His arms wrap around him automatically, fingers gripping the fabric of Ji Woong’s hoodie like he wants to hold him there forever. All of this will slip right through his fingers. It's not metaphoric anymore, he knows that if he let's go of Ji Woong this time, he'll really be gone. 

Ji Woong’s voice is barely a whisper. “Take care of yourself, Tae Rae.” 

Tae Rae swallows past the lump in his throat, keeping himself grounded. “Yeah. You too.” 

And then Ji Woong pulls away. 

And walks away. 

Tae Rae watches his back as he disappears through the gate, and still, he says nothing. 

He keeps his mouth shut, his hands clenched at his sides, his feet glued to the floor. 

And then, just like that—Ji Woong is gone. 

Tae Rae doesn’t even realize he’s shaking until his vision blurs, until a single tear escapes and slides down his cheek. 

Then another. 

Then another. 

Until he’s standing in the middle of the airport, covering his face with his hands, shoulders trembling as silent sobs rack through him. 

He should have said something. 

He should have fucking told him he loves him. Loves him so fucking much this separation feels like a piece of him is dying. 

But it’s too late. Ji Woong is gone now. For real. 

Just how it's supposed to be. 

{ ~ }

 “Have you tuned it already?” 

Hao, ever the perfectionist, hovers over Tae Rae like a concerned mother hen, his voice laced with urgency. They're set to go on stage in ten minutes, but Tae Rae’s mind is elsewhere, lost in the scrawled lyrics of their newest song on his notebook. Creativity never strikes at convenient times, and right now, all he wants is to fine-tune a verse that won’t stop nagging at him. 

They’re preparing to release their first independent album, a leap of faith that could either help Tae Rae chip away at his towering university debts or crash and burn spectacularly. Hao is determined, Gun Wook thrives on a challenge, and Tae Rae, well... he’s just trying to keep up. 

He plucks a string, adjusting the tuning pegs with precise movements, his fingers nimble from years of practice. The analog clock above them ticks away, reminding him they now have only two minutes left. The bar where they perform every Friday night is small but cozy, with an easygoing atmosphere and, most importantly, an owner willing to pay them a modest fee for their sets. 

Being an up-and-coming musician isn’t glamorous. It’s exhausting, uncertain, and underpaid. But at least Tae Rae has a backup plan. University is going smoothly, almost too smoothly. He barely studies, yet his grades remain effortlessly high. He’s found friends who match his energy, who understand him, and for the first time in a long while, he feels settled. Secure. The anxious, insecure teenager he once was feels like a ghost of the past. 

Tae Rae has moved on. 

He’s become someone he actually likes. Confident, a little eccentric, but in a way that feels authentic. Everything's in the right place. 

When the clock strikes, they step on stage. The first half of their set flies by in a blur. By the time they’re done, the bar is lively, drinks are flowing, and the three of them are already a few sips deep into unwinding. 

  “Guys, remember the guy I told you about?” Hao announces, his semi-tipsy drawl making it obvious he’s already on his second Moscow Mule. “He's coming tonight.” 

Gun Wook gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like he’s just heard the biggest scandal of the year. “No way. The mystery man finally emerges?” 

Hao smirks, swirling the ice in his glass. “And he’s bringing a friend. A very single, very gay friend. I may have casually mentioned I know someone who might be interested.” 

He turns to Tae Rae, wiggling his eyebrows with all the subtlety of a neon sign. 

Tae Rae groans. "Oh, God, not this again..."

It’s a never-ending cycle. No matter how many times he insists he’s fine — content even — Hao takes it upon himself to find him a love life. Friends, friends of friends, now the friend of his fling, or boyfriend... not like Tae Rae even cares what they are. He has lost count of the number of setups Hao has tried to orchestrate. 

  “Hao, I don’t need a man.” 

Hao sips his drink, unimpressed. “Your angsty lyrics suggest otherwise. I don't care who broke your heart in ancient times, it's always the same fucking story with you. C'mon... just let loose for a night.” 

  “I just don't like all this hook-up culture and stuff.” 

Hao rolls his eyes cynically. “Sure... miss independence–oh, look, there they are!” 

Tae Rae doesn't know what he expected, probably nothing, as he turns his head lazily to the front door where Hao is gazing at. It doesn't fully register for a second, Tae Rae's brain not quite picking up who are slowly making their way towards him. 

But then, he notices a familiar face. 

Han Bin.  

But not just Han Bin... 

  “This is Han Bin, my boyfriend.” Hao announces with a broad, proud smile, “And that's–” 

  “Ji Woong?” The name falls from Tae Rae’s lips before he even realizes it, barely above a whisper, but loud enough for Ji Woong to hear. 

Ji Woong’s gaze flickers to him, and something — something Tae Rae can’t name — flashes across his face. 

  “Tae Rae…” Ji Woong says, and it’s just his name, just two syllables, but it makes Tae Rae’s stomach drop like he’s eighteen again, like his heart never really learned how to heal. 

He had tried so hard.

Letting the distance grow between them little by little, replying less often, stretching the gaps between their conversations until, eventually, they faded into nothing. It was natural a natural progression, inevitable.  

Ji Woong had gone off to Seoul, built a new life, one too full, too far away for Tae Rae to fit into anymore. They had drifted apart just like childhood friends always do. Just like Tae Rae had expected. Just like he had told himself he wanted. 

And for a while, he had convinced himself he’d moved on. The ache of Ji Woong’s absence dulled over time, becoming something distant, something he could live with. He built a new routine, new friendships, filled the empty spaces with music and laughter and late-night conversations that didn’t revolve around the past. 

But now, standing here, looking at Ji Woong again, he realizes; he never truly let him go. One spotting of his old best friend, and it's obvious. He never did. He had only buried the feelings deep enough to pretend they weren’t there. And with just one glance, one moment, everything rushes back like a wave, crashing into him so fast it knocks the breath from his lungs. 

Tae Rae is speechless. And Ji Woong is still Ji Woong. The same raven-haired boy he'd grown fond over - although his hair had grown a bit longer - the same genuine spark in his eyes, the same warm smile, the same... everything.

  “You two know each other already?” Hao says, shocked. “Did you two hook up? Here I thought I'd set you up with someone new, goddamn it.”  

Ji Woong lets out a breath of something that might be a laugh, but it’s humorless, almost strained. His eyes flick to Hao for a brief second before returning to Tae Rae, searching, like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction. 

Tae Rae swallows hard, forcing something — anything — out of his mouth before he drowns in the weight of it all.  

  “We… were past friends.” he says, and the words taste wrong, bitter, like an understatement so glaringly inaccurate it makes his stomach churn.  

Past friends.  

As if Ji Woong hadn’t once been the most important person in his life. 

  “Right.” Ji Woong nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “Friends.” 

It’s quiet for a beat too long. Tae Rae wants to say something to fill the silence before it starts suffocating them both, but it’s like his voice has abandoned him. 

Hao, oblivious as ever, groans dramatically. “Ugh, so no hookup history? Then I can set you up!” He nudges Tae Rae’s side with a grin. “C’mon, he’s hot.” 

Tae Rae barely hears him. He’s too busy watching Ji Woong, watching the way his jaw tightens for half a second before he schools his face into something neutral, something unreadable. But Tae Rae does read it. Because even after all this time, he still knows Ji Woong better than anyone. 

Ji Woong gives Hao a small, polite smile, like he’s used to playing along with things he doesn’t want to talk about. “I think we should get drinks first, don’t you?” 

  “Good idea.” Hao hums. But unlike what Ji Woong had probably been hinting at, he instead pulls Han Bin and Gun Wook along toward the bar, leaving Tae Rae standing there, stuck, while Ji Woong lingers in front of him. 

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Tae Rae’s heart is a mess, his thoughts racing too fast to untangle. Until, he finally is able to mutter something. Yeah, definitely something...

 “So... you're gay now?” 

The tense air between them is instantly broken by that question, Ji Woong fluttering his eyelashes in confusion. “You see me after five years and that's the first thing you ask me?” 

  “Umm...” 

  “C'mon.” Ji Woong says, his tone certainly much more familiar, warm like a tight blanket. “Fuck, Tae Rae... I've missed you.” And just like that Ji Woong pulls him into a hug, Tae Rae completely frozen as he has no idea what's even happening to him, everything going way too fast. “Damn, what have you been up to? Are you studying in Seoul as well? I had no clue you were too. You should've texted me!” 

Tae Rae merely chokes by how tight Ji Woong's grip is. “Ji Woong... too... tight...”  

Ji Woong quickly releases him. “Sorry. I didn't want to squeeze you to death. I've just not spoken to you in... ages!” 

Tae Rae sucks in a sharp breath the moment Ji Woong lets go, stepping back just enough to put some space between them. Not too much, though, because God, Ji Woong is still Ji Woong. Familiar in ways that make his chest ache, yet different enough to leave him completely off balance. 

  “It’s been five years,” Tae Rae mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Of course we haven’t spoken.” 

  "Yeah, but—” he gestures vaguely, like he’s trying to find the right words. “You could’ve texted.” 

Tae Rae snorts, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “So could you.” 

The older one's expression falters for half a second before he huffs out a soft laugh, nudging Tae Rae’s shoulder like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Touché.” 

His skin burns from that small touch. It still does. He glances at the bar where Hao and Han Bin are already lost in conversation, then clears his throat, forcing his voice to stay steady. “Uh, so yeah, I also study in Seoul. Medicine.” 

Ji Woong hums, his gaze lingering on Tae Rae a little too long, like he’s trying to take him all in. “I didn't expect anything less.” 

  “So, what about you... how is basketball going?” 

And just like that, Ji Woong’s smile falters, just slightly. “Yeah, about that…” He exhales slowly. “Three years ago, I suffered a hamstring injury. Had to stop playing.” 

Tae Rae blinks, his stomach sinking. “Wait, seriously?” 

Ji Woong shrugs like it’s nothing, like it isn’t the very thing he once lived and breathed for. “Yeah. Sucks, but what can you do?” 

Tae Rae frowns. Ji Woong says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, but all Tae Rae can think about is how much basketball was Ji Woong—how it had defined him for as long as he could remember. And he hadn’t been there when it all fell apart. 

  “I’m sorry,” Tae Rae says quietly. It feels like too little, too late. 

Ji Woong offers a small, reassuring smile. “It’s fine. I already cried enough tears over it.” Then, with a soft chuckle, he adds, “I’m studying history now. I want to be a teacher. Actually, I’m already working as a substitute at a high school.” 

Tae Rae blinks in surprise. “That’s… not what I expected.” 

  “Tell me about it. But I like it. It’s not what I originally wanted, but… sometimes, life just doesn’t turn out the way you thought it would, right?” 

Tae Rae nods.  

Yeah. That, he understands.  

  “Besides, being an athlete was hard. I struggled a lot with… accepting myself. Now that I’m out of that world, I don’t feel as afraid.” 

  “Afraid of what?” Tae Rae says as he tilts his head slightly, playing with the straw of the cocktail in his hand. 

He spots Ji Woong's visible hesitation before meeting his gaze, a sudden tension perceivable in his body language. “Of being myself.” He pauses, then, a little softer, the words slowly dying out. “Of being gay.” 

Tae Rae’s breath catches for a moment. His grip tightens around his glass. “How long have you… known?” 

Ji Woong exhales a quiet laugh. “Since high school. Probably before then.” 

A quick mathematic equation forms in Tae Rae's hollow head. 

  “Ah.” He doesn’t know why his chest feels tight, or why his pulse is suddenly pounding in his ears. 

Ji Woong shifts, licking his lips like he’s preparing himself for something. Then, hesitantly, he says, “You know, Tae Rae… I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. Some bigger than others. But one thing I really regret is never telling you how I felt when we were younger.” 

Tae Rae stills, his tummy twisting with something scarily close to – possibly misguided – hope.  

  “…Your feelings about what?” 

Ji Woong looks at him then, really looks at him, gaze dark and unreadable, heavy with something foreign before the words roll right off his lips. 

  “About you.” 

Tae Rae’s breath hitches in his throat. His heart feels like it’s skipping a beat, his chest tight with a sudden mix of confusion and anticipation. The words about you hang in the air, almost too heavy to comprehend. For a long moment, neither of them speaks. Tae Rae stays frozen, caught somewhere between disbelief and a strange kind of longing he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in years. He feels the weight of Ji Woong’s gaze, and yet, it’s like he can’t fully process what Ji Woong has just said. 

  “Wait, what do you mean… you felt something for me?” Tae Rae finally manages to ask, though his voice trembles, betraying him. 

Ji Woong lets out a long, slow exhale, as if the confession has taken some of his energy with it. He takes a small step closer, his eyes softening. “Yeah, Tae Rae. I didn’t just stop talking to you because we drifted apart… I stopped because I was scared.” He pauses, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “I liked you. For so long. But I was too afraid of what it meant back then. For my career, for our friendship... I thought you didn't like me. You never gave me the signs that you did. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I didn't want to turn all those memories of our youth into painful memories, but in the process of protecting our relationship, I failed it, too. Because look where we are now. I haven't spoken to you in forever because of my cowardness.” 

Cowardness.

Scared to turn their memories into painful memories.

Ji Woong battled with the exact same feelings that Tae Rae did.

Tae Rae’s mind is a whirlpool of conflicting emotions—relief, guilt, confusion, longing. He'd always thought there was no way in hell Ji Woong would feel anything, not until that unfortunate day. But Ji Woong’s attitude right after, as if their kiss wasn't anything important, had made Tae Rae feel like he'd just been hallucinating everything. Like he was seeing what he wanted to see, but which wasn't the reality before him. 

  “I… I never knew,” Tae Rae whispers, almost to himself, feeling the past two years’ worth of unanswered questions hit him all at once. 

Ji Woong steps even closer, their bodies now nearly touching. His voice is quieter now, softer, vulnerable in a way that makes Tae Rae’s chest ache. “I know. I was a coward. When you said goodbye at the airport... I cried the whole flight.” A weak smile curls around Ji Woong's lips, Tae Rae's heart breaking piece by piece. “It was so embarrassing, this old lady next to me on the plane asked me if I broke up with my girlfriend. I swear to God, when we landed in Seoul, I felt like the biggest loser in the world.” 

Tae Rae doesn't know what to say. He doesn't even know where to start.

His head is all a mess, little Tae Rae's running around in panic, alarm signs going off left and right, the chaos completely unmanageable. 

  “Ji Woong... I...” Tae Rae only manages to stutter, his hands shaking, heart hammering in his chest. “You're not the only coward. I was a coward too. When you left, I cried for days. Maybe weeks. Because I'd made this promise with myself I was going to tell you how... I felt... before you left. But I just couldn't. ” 

Ji Woong's eyes widen in shock. “Did you... like me too?” 

An uncharacteristic braveness washes over Tae Rae out of nowhere. Now that all their cards are on the table, Tae Rae knows this is his only chance to be completely honest with his feelings.

  “I didn't like you, Ji Woong. I like you, still, I'm afraid.” 

Ji Woong sucks in a sharp breath, like the words physically hit him. His expression flickers with shock, disbelief, something raw and unguarded settling in his eyes as he searches Tae Rae’s face, like he’s making sure he heard him right. 

And Tae Rae knows there’s no taking it back now. Not that he wants to. He’s kept it in for too long, buried it so deep that he thought it would disappear on its own. But feelings like this don’t just vanish. They wait. They settle in the cracks of your heart, quiet but persistent, until the moment they’re pulled back into the light. 

Ji Woong exhales, running a hand through his hair, like he’s trying to process everything at once. “You… you still like me?”  

Tae Rae swallows hard.  

He doesn’t trust his voice, doesn’t trust himself to say it again, but he nods. Slowly. 

Ji Woong lets out a breathless laugh, disbelieving. “Tae Rae… what the hell are we doing, then?” His hands twitch at his sides, like he’s holding himself back, like he wants to reach out but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to. 

Tae Rae wants to tell him that he doesn’t know. That this is all happening too fast, that he’s not ready, that he’s spent years convincing himself this chapter of his life was closed. That Ji Woong didn't like him, would move on, get together with someone else and live that life Tae Rae had carefully crafted in his head. 

But he's now realizing, it had all been his imagination, all been what he thought Ji Woong had wanted. In reality, he never knew if that was Ji Woong's plan, or even desire.  

Because when he looks at Ji Woong — really looks at him — he sees the same emotions mirrored in his face that Tae Rae feels right now. Uncertainty, fear, longing, yearning. 

He realizes, maybe neither of them have truly moved on. 

  “Tae Rae.” Ji Woong double checks before he reaches out and carefully slips his hands into his. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry for showing up so suddenly like this and dropping such a bomb. I didn't plan this either, but I feel like... this is my last chance now. I'm sorry I'm late. But I don't want to make the same mistake again and let you go.” 

  “Ji Woong...” 

  “Please, if you still like me... can we...” 

  “Oh my gosh, this melodrama.” Han Bin and Hao have suddenly found themselves spawned next to them, Hao rolling his eyes while Han Bin seems very much unsurprised, as if he'd known for a while. He crosses his arms. “C'mon... just kiss each other already.” 

Tae Rae freezes, his entire body locking up at the sheer audacity of Han Bin’s words. Ji Woong, however, just chuckles, his fingers still wrapped around Tae Rae’s. “They have a point,” he muses, tilting his head slightly.  

He opens his mouth — probably to argue, probably to deny everything, because that’s the easiest thing to do — but Ji Woong squeezes his hand, grounding him. 

And suddenly, Tae Rae realizes he doesn’t want to run anymore. 

His heart is still hammering, his mind still reeling, but when he looks at Ji Woong, he knows this is something he’s wanted for a long time. Such a long time, it feels dreadful to even think back about it. 

But Ji Woong is here, looking at him with that same longing, that same quiet hesitation. Ji Woong, who had cried on that plane. Ji Woong, who had spent years holding back, just like Tae Rae had. One of them had to break the cycle, to stop holding back. 

So, for once in his life, Tae Rae doesn’t overthink it. He follows a feeling. 

He steps forward, closing the space between them, and before he can second-guess it, he kisses him. 

Ji Woong exhales sharply against his lips, surprised at first, but it only takes a second before he’s kissing back, his hands coming up to cup Tae Rae’s face, fingers slipping into his hair like he’s afraid he’ll disappear if he lets go. Tae Rae swears his heart stops entirely. He still tastes the same. His subtle stubble still grazes Tae Rae’s chin. His cologne has barely changed, only grown a little richer. But the way he moves, the way he breathes against Tae Rae’s lips, the way his hands tremble slightly where they hold him. 

It feels like nothing has changed.  

As if they were still the same young adults they were in their adolescence. 

Ji Woong kisses him like this is something he’s thought about for years.  

Because maybe it is. 

When they finally break apart, Tae Rae is breathless, his lips tingling, his head spinning. Ji Woong smiles against his mouth, resting their foreheads together. 

  “God,” Ji Woong exhales, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to do that properly for so long.” 

A loud whistle cuts through the moment, and they both turn to see Hao grinning smugly, Han Bin shaking his head with a fond sigh. 

  “See?” Hao smirks, draping an arm over Han Bin’s shoulder. “I have a one-hundred percent success rate in getting people together.” 

  “We’ll leave you two alone,” Han Bin adds, far gentler, winking at the two of them. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on.” 

Ji Woong hums, a slow grin creeping onto his face. “We can catch up later.” 

Tae Rae furrows his brows. “Why?” 

Ji Woong chuckles, then, with no warning, tugs Tae Rae in by the nape of his neck and presses another kiss to his lips. Tae Rae squeaks, actually squeaks, his entire face going up in flames. Ji Woong just grins against his mouth, their breaths mingling. 

 “Because right now,” Ji Woong murmurs, voice low and teasing, “I just want to do what I’ve wanted to do to you for so long.”