Work Text:
1
The new family had just moved in next door, and Jihoon’s mom had dragged him along to say hello. He didn’t care about fruit baskets or introductions though, he just wanted to go home, play with his toys, and avoid the endless polite small talk of adults.
But then the door opened, and there was Hyeonjun.
Round cheeks, wide eyes, and a shy little smile that lie up the doorway brighter than the afternoon sun. Something in Jihoon’s small chest clicked the second he saw him.
He didn’t wait. Didn’t think. He just marched right up, grabbed Hyeonjun’s hand in his tiny fist, and announced, “You’re mine.”
The grown-ups laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world – how cute, they’re fast friends already! – but Jihoon wasn’t joking. Not even a little.
He tugged insistently until Hyeonjun followed him outside, confused but smiling, still holding on.
And Hyeonjun didn’t protest. Not when Jihoon declared him “mine”, not when he dragged him towards the sandbox like they’d known each other forever. He just let himself be pulled along, that shy little grin still blooming on his face.
Jihoon didn’t know what it was, didn’t know what to call it, but he knew one thing for sure: Hyeonjun was his.
2
School was supposed to be boring. Lessons stretched on forever, handwriting was hard, and teachers always told you to sit still.
But with Hyeonjun there, it was better.
They walked into class together, sat side by side whenever they could, and shared snacks at lunch. And whenever Hyeonjun forgot his pencil or didn’t finish a worksheet, Jihoon slid his own paper across the desk without hesitation.
“You’re going to get us in trouble,” Hyeonjun whispered once, cheeks pink when Jihoon leaned too close during math.
“You’d be lost without me,” Jihoon shot back, smug.
Hyeonjun ducked his head, hiding a smile.
To Jihoon, every second was better with Hyeonjun beside him. He didn’t have words for it yet, didn’t know why his chest felt warm whenever Hyeonjun laughed, but he knew he wanted to keep that smile for himself.
3
By the time they hit secondary school, things had shifted.
Not the closeness – that was still there, if anything stronger. They sat together in every class they could, shared lunch boxes like it was the most natural thing in the world, and walked home with their shoulders brushing.
But the feelings… those were new.
Jihoon didn’t have words for it yet, but he felt it in the way his chest tightened whenever Hyeonjun smiled, or the way his palms sweated when their hands accidentally touched. He felt it in the restless energy that came with wanting to be near Hyeonjun all the time, in how he couldn’t quite stop staring.
Hyeonjun wasn’t any better. He blushed too easily those days, fumbling through homework explanations whenever Jihoon leaned too close. He caught himself smiling at stupid things Jihoon said, or looking forward to breaks just so they could sit in the courtyard together.
Neither of them said it aloud, too nervous to break the fragile balance they had.
One rainy afternoon, Hyeonjun caught a fever. Jihoon practically barged into his room, scolding him for not wearing a jacket, piling blankets over him, hovering like a restless cat.
“You don’t have to worry this much,” Hyeonjun mumbled, flushed from fever and embarrassment.
“I do,” Jihoon said, without hesitation. His heart raced, louder than the rain outside. I do, because it’s you .
4
The summer after graduation was the first time they’d be apart.
Hyeonjun had gone on a family trip, and Jihoon had stayed behind. At first it didn’t seem like a big deal. They’d text, call, joke like always. But after a week, Jihoon felt like his chest was missing something.
He found himself scrolling through their old chat logs at night, rereading the dumbest conversations just to feel closer. He caught himself saving every photo Hyeonjun sent, be it blurry landscapes, meals, or even just a casual selfie at the airport. Each one made his heart ache and warm all at once.
Hyeonjun wasn’t faring much better. He stared at sunsets and thought they’d look better with Jihoon beside him. He laughed at something his cousin said, only to feel an emptiness because he wanted to share it with Jihoon first. His heart lurched at every notification sound, hoping it was him.
When they finally met again once Hyeonjun returned, Jihoon didn’t bother with words. He threw his arms around Hyeonjun, clinging tight, burning his face in his shoulder.
“I missed you,” he mumbled, muffled, refusing to let go. “Don’t ever leave me like that again.”
Hyeonjun’s heart raced, but slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around Jihoon too. His voice was quiet but steady. “Okay. I won’t.”
That was the moment it clicked. This wasn’t just a friendship. This was something deeper, heavier, brighter. And it scared them a little, but it felt right.
5
Their world shrank to tiny dorm rooms and late-night ramen runs. They had finally said it one night, the words spilling out clumsily after one too many instant noodles, caffeine and late nights. Jihoon had grinned like a cat who’d gotten exactly what he wanted and Hyeonjun had blushed so hard he thought he’d combust.
From then on, they were inseparable in a new way. Officially, forever.
Jihoon made a show of walking Hyeonjun to every lecture, no matter the time. He’d tug him close at crosswalks, sulked when Hyeonjun was late, and snuck his hand into his under the table at libraries.
“You’re embarrassing,” Hyeonjun muttered once, face red, when Jihoon insisted on holding his hand all the way across campus.
“But you love it,” Jihoon said, smirking.
Hyeonjun sighed, exasperated, but he squeezed his hand back.
At night, sprawled on the creaky dorm bed, Jihoon made promises into the dark. “One day I’ll buy you the biggest house. The coolest car and we’ll see the whole world together.”
Hyeonjun laughed softly, knowing they could barely even afford meat in their diet right now. But deep down, he believed him. Because if anyone could make the impossible happen, it was Jihoon.
6
It wasn’t grand or showy. That wasn’t them.
They were walking home late, the city quiet around them, when Jihoon suddenly stopped. His hand tightening around Hyeonjun’s.
“I can’t wait anymore,” he blurted out. His voice shook as he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket, getting onto one knee while fumbling to open the box. “Marry me.”
Hyeonjun froze, eyes wide, cheeks flooding red.
“I mean it,” Jihoon said quickly, desperate. “You’re… it. My everything. The happiest place I could ever be. Just… marry me.”
There was silence, just the sound of their breaths in the cool night air.
Then Hyeonjun smiled. The same smile that Jihoon had fallen for all those years ago. Sweet, warm, sure.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Of course, yes. How could I ever refuse you, Jihoon-ah.”
Jihoon laughed in sheer relief, pulling him into a hug so tight they nearly toppled over. He didn’t care. Hyeonjun was his – officially, forever.
7
It wasn’t a big wedding. Just family, a few close friends, and laughter under soft lights.
Jihoon thought he’d hate the attention, but he didn’t. Because every time he looked at Hyeonjun, standing there in a suit that made him look both nervous and radiant, the rest of the world blurred away.
They held hands the entire ceremony, knuckles white, hearts racing. And when the vows came, Jihoon didn’t even bother reading from the card he’d prepared. He just spoke, straight from the heart:
“I’ve loved you since the day we met. I’ll love you until the end.”
Hyeonjun’s answer was quieter, shy, but just as steady: “Me too.”
Jihoon grinned so wide his cheeks ached, eyes wet, while Hyeonjun flushed and tried not to cry.
When the officiant finally gave the signal, Jihoon didn’t hesitate. He leaned in, eager and unashamed, kissing Hyeonjun like he’d been waiting his whole life.
It wasn’t a chaste brush of lips, nor was it something scandalous. It was them . Warn, tender, and longing, full of years’ worth of unspoken promises. Jihoon’s hand came up to cradle Hyeonjun’s jaw, thumb brushing lightly against his cheek as if he was afraid Hyeonjun might slip away even now. Hyeonjun’s breath hitched at the contact, eyes fluttering shut, leaning into the kiss like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The cheers, the clapping, and the laughter of their friends and family blurred away. None of it mattered. Jihoon kissed him deeper, lips lingering, savoring, as if to carve the truth into stone: you’re mine, and I’m yours .
When they finally broke apart, Hyeonjun’s face was flushed scarlet, lips kiss-swollen, eyes glassy with emotion. Jihoon grinned like a cat who’d finally caught his favourite sunbeam, utterly smitten with love.
+1
The morning light was soft when Jihoon woke. He turned over, half-asleep, to find Hyeonjun still beside him, breathing slow, hair messy, face slack in dream.
Jihoon smiled, pressing his forehead to Hyeonjun’s shoulder. Five years of marriage, and he still felt the same as he had that very first day. Possessive, adoring, and unwilling to let go.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, the words he’d said when they were just four years old. Except now, they weren’t childish – they were everything .
Hyeonjun stirred, cracking one eye open. “Still half-asleep and already clingy,” he whined, voice rough with sleep. But he reached for Jihoon anyway, pulling him close until they fit together just like they always had.
They didn’t need grand gestures, or anything else other than the warmth of each other, and the steady rhythm of love that had never wavered.
Jihoon nuzzled against him, stubborn. “I only want to love you. For the next 5, 50, and even 500 years. Forever.”
Hyeonjun kissed his temple, offering his version of support. “Then do it.”
And Jihoon did.