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Staring at the door to his boyfriend’s apartment made Nam-gyu more fidgety than usual. He slid his rings up and down, up and down, contemplating turning tail instead.
The memory of his outburst over last night’s call with Dae-ho made his chest tight, like a balloon with too much helium. He shouldn’t have yelled at him like that. He knew it then, and he knew it now.
Nam-gyu wiped his palms on his jacket, boring holes into the door. The last rays of the sun painted it in an orange-pink combo. He checked his phone—it was getting late. He tried not to deflate at the fact that Dae-ho hadn't returned any of his calls. Chewing on his bottom lip, he spared a glance at the elevator on the far end of the corridor.
If his sister Young-mi were here, she'd probably say something like, “You'd regret it later if you didn't say something, wouldn't you? What's more important here?” Maybe she would have ended up saying that if Nam-gyu told her about their fight, but she was on vacation with her girlfriend in Thailand.
And anyway, she would be right.
He tightened his grip on the plastic bag in his hand. Before he could change his mind, he knocked on Dae-ho's door.
From behind it came the shuffling of feet. There was a sudden pause—perhaps Dae-ho checking through the peephole—before the metal door unlocked with a definite click. He opened the apartment door, his expression one of surprise, then quickly changed into something more…guarded.
Something twinged in his gut. Nam-gyu felt like he was being pinned down by eyes alone. It would probably have been smart to let him know he was dropping by.
“...Hi,” Dae-ho offered.
“Hey.” Nam-gyu licked his lips, his mouth dry. “About last night…” He readjusted his grip on the bag, his palms clammy. Why did he get so nervous every time he had to own up to something? This new position was a good thing for Dae-ho. His boyfriend had experience in a little bit of everything—night shift wasn't new for him. The pay was better too. He would be fine, maybe even better than his colleagues.
Dae-ho's hard expression softened slightly. He beckoned him inside.
His apartment was small, but not much smaller than Nam-gyu's own. It had a kitchen to the side, a cozy living room, and a tiny bathroom. Some of Nam-gyu's clothes were carelessly strewn about, and he resisted the urge to store them out of sight.
He placed the plastic bag on the counter, wringing his hands together.
“I… got you this.” He showed Dae-ho the instant noodles he picked up from the convenience store. He had picked them out because they had little tigers on them. Only now did he wonder if they were even the type Dae-ho liked. “In case you haven't had dinner yet,” Nam-gyu added.
“Oh—thanks.”
Dae-ho looked at what he had brought, then at the pan on the stove. Following his gaze, the aromatic smell of kimchi and freshly cooked rice wafted from the kitchen. With a start, Nam-gyu realized Dae-ho had already made dinner for himself.
“I’ll just have some tomorrow,” Dae-ho assured. He tried to meet his eyes, but Nam-gyu quickly looked away. The balloon in his chest expanded.
“Listen, I…” His voice died in his throat. Clearing it with a cough, he tried again. He just wanted to get this over with, and get this weird dissonance between them gone. “I didn’t mean the shit I said the other day. I was… I dunno. Only thinking about myself.” His knuckle ached from where he slid his ring over and over. He picked at a hangnail instead.
“If only you just—” He caught himself. “No…there wasn't anything you did that made me act like that. It was my gut reaction, but that's not how I should have talked to you in the first place. I actually think switching your hours is pretty rational. Just so you know.”
Dae-ho sighed. Nam-gyu finally met his gaze, but he looked relieved.
“Yeah, I get it. It wasn't my first choice. Nightshift sucks,” he said, his shoulders relaxing. Nam-gyu hadn't realized he was tense. “The pay’s way better. I think it's like double? And you know it's only until I find something better.” Nam-gyu nodded. Dae-ho wasn’t mad at him—or at least not as mad as he had initially thought. The balloon loosened, and he could breathe a little easier.
“Sorry I made you worry about it,” Dae-ho said. “l was a little scared of you, to be honest. I thought you were actually mad.”
“No, I wasn't! I’ll…I’ll be better. I promise,” Nam-gyu vowed sheepishly, fiddling with his rings again. Dae-ho’s eyes darted towards his fingers—he grasped Nam-gyu’s hands in his, breaking him out of his restlessness.
“So, have you had dinner yet? I made enough for two if you want to eat with me,” Dae-ho said, already leading him to the kitchen. He nodded and trailed after him. They weren't breaking up. They would be just fine.
His boyfriend had made kimchi fried rice for dinner. Dae-ho never learned to cook from his parents, so his elder sisters took on that responsibility. He apologized for the lazy meal, but Nam-gyu, who nearly always makes the same three meals himself, really didn't mind.
Dae-ho put up their plates after they had finished. Nam-gyu rested his chin on his hand, feeling a lot less cold than when he first entered the apartment. He watched Dae-ho work in the kitchen from his place on the table. His hair was put up in the way it usually was—half down and half in a pony tail. It shined in the kitchen lighting, greasy. Nam-gyu wondered if his hair just got like that easily or if he hadn't washed it in a while. He decided he looked good either way.
“Nam-gyu,” Dae-ho turned to him, wiping his hands on a towel, "you're staying here for a little bit longer, right?” Nam-gyu hadn't planned to. He didn't think Dae-ho would want him here an hour earlier. But if he wanted him to stay, then he wasn't about to turn him down.
“If you let me.”
“Do you want to have some time with me in the bath?” Nam-gyu blinked, taking a second to register his words. How forward. Dae-ho's not usually like that. At all.
“You can help me get ready for my first day. Or I guess, first night.” Dae-ho’s smile is easy-going.
“Are you asking to get freaky in the shower?” Nam-gyu asked, raising a brow. Dae-ho is a bold guy, in nearly every sense of the word. He rarely says something he doesn't directly mean, so when he does, it was usually something he was embarrassed about. Nam-gyu loved to misinterpret the worst option possible on purpose, just to see his flustered reaction.
This time though, he's not actually sure what Dae-ho wants. Both possibilities were fine with him.
“No! Not…not like that.” Dae-ho exclaimed, shaking his head. “Like, take a bath together. With you and me in the tub. Maybe put some music on.” He paused, leaning in a little. “Please?”
“Okay.” Something warm bubbled in Nam-gyu's chest. He's never shared a bath with anyone before. Dae-ho's bathtub wasn't all that big, even for one person, let alone two. It sounded…grossly intimate in a way that intrigued him.
Also, this might be Dae-ho's way of giving Nam-gyu a chance to prove himself. Prove to him that he's not all talk.
“That sounds nice. And I owe you, so I guess I can't say no anyway.” A hair strand had fallen across Dae-ho's face—Nam-gyu tucked it behind his ear for him. “But you have to clean the bath. You know some of the tile’s turning brown, right?”
Dae-ho groaned, seemingly now remembering how his bathroom wasn't in the same presentable condition as his living room.
“Yeah, I will.”
After the bathtub was scrubbed clean and filled with warm water, Dae-ho invited Nam-gyu in. The tiles were noticeably cleaner, their amber tones shining like fish scales. On one wall, a tiny frosted window nested below the ceiling, painting the bathroom in evening light. Dae-ho hadn't bothered to turn the light on. What looked like Tupperware used as a bucket sat in the corner.
In the tub, Dae-ho was completely submerged, only his face showing above the surface. His hair, no longer tied, flowed under him like a watercolor dream. It almost looked like he was taking a nap.
“Scoot over, Big Tiger,” Nam-gyu said. He threw his shirt and pants on the floor, not particularly caring where they landed. As much as he hated breaking his peace, they didn't have all night.
Dae-ho moved upward too quickly, splashing water into his nose. “Ack!”
“Dumbass.”
“Hey.”
Nam-gyu smirked, but got in. It was immediately clear the tub wasn’t made for two grown men to share. They sat across, but their legs brushed against each other. Nam-gyu had never touched a seal before, but he imagined them to feel like this.
Dae-ho’s eyes flickered from the ceiling to Nam-gyu, his cheeks dusted pink. It took a second for Nam-gyu to put his finger on it, but he wondered if this was Dae-ho's way of trying very hard not to ogle at his body. They’ve seen each other naked before—they’ve literally had sex before too. But seeing him blush like a school girl when they've done much more…Nam-gyu couldn't hold back his chuckle, and in turn, Dae-ho cracked a timid smile.
“I want to say something,” he mumbled. Nam-gyu tilted his head, sensing an opportunity to tease him coming up. He put on his most innocent face: a polite grin and relaxed eyebrows.
“Mm?” He hummed. Dae-ho suddenly scrunched up his nose at Nam-gyu's expression, a smile tugging at his lips. Damn it. He recognized Nam-gyu's face from too many unsuspecting times before. He dropped it.
“...Anyway. I'm glad you're here. And that you're my boyfriend. I—I really—uhm—” he faltered, rubbing the back of his neck. He searched the ceiling as if he would find his words there. Sighing, Dae-ho’s attention fixed back on him. “I like you. And I'm just… really happy with you.”
Nam-gyu lit up, warmth flooding his face. That's not what he was expecting at all…what felt like Dae-ho being shy felt more like him trying to hide something now. Nam-gyu drew closer, studying his face. A twinge of worry quirked in his stomach, wary of what he might find. Dae-ho blinked. His lips curved upward a little too quickly.
“Glad to know my boyfriend likes me.” But that came out too harsh, so he added, in a softer tone, “I like you too, Big Tiger.” He seized the opportunity to sneak a quick kiss to his nose. Dae-ho let out a surprised yelp at the sudden movement, covering the spot where he kissed him with a hand. He laughed—and gave him a small, real smile. Not the one he gave just before, the one that looked like it was constructed on a time limit. Nam-gyu let out a breath. There really wasn't anything to worry about.
From a shelf built into the wall, Dae-ho handed him bottles of shampoo and conditioner before quickly turning around. They were both hot pink. Maybe a close friend got it for him as a joke. Or maybe the women’s hair care worked better. Nevertheless, Nam-gyu put some on his hands and began combining his fingers through Dae-ho’s dark, wet hair. He tilted his head upward, and started humming a tune Nam-gyu didn't recognize.
From his angle, he could see the marine tattoo on his shoulder. The one he often spoke about getting covered up or removed altogether. (“Maybe a tiger…hey, then I'd be matching with you.” he had then pointed to Nam-gyu's tattoo of a tiger’s head.) Apparently, he got it during a moment of weakness in his early 20s. Dae-ho hadn't felt like he was doing enough to keep the lie that he served in the Marines—something he believed he had to be due to his father's strict “teachings” of what it meant to be a man. Nam-gyu hated that man’s guts. It wasn't teaching, it was abuse. Dae-ho's bruises might have healed but his soul didn't. He was glad that man had died years ago.
After an anxiety-induced mental breakdown, Dae-ho got the tattoo from a private tattoo artist without anyone's knowledge. The lie went on for several years, but eventually, it came to light. Dae-ho didn't hide the nature of his tattoo anymore, and when they met, he was honest with Nam-gyu.
But to Nam-gyu, the tattoo was a sign that Dae-ho survived something. A trophy for getting through the worst time of his life. Adopted a coping mechanism that was, in hindsight, unhealthy from the start. It was comforting to see that Nam-gyu's not the only one with a past. And as selfish as it is, he hopes some part of it remains, whatever Dae-ho decides to do with it.
His eyes flickered down to his own arms, marred with tattoos and discolored markings that would probably be there forever. He wondered if Dae-ho felt the same way with Nam-gyu's scars.
“Close your eyes, I'm done with the shampoo,” Nam-gyu warned. Dae-ho's humming went up an octave in response. Nam-gyu filled the bucket with water and poured it down his boyfriend's head, careful not to get his face wet in the process.
He put some conditioner on his hand, but quickly realized he didn't know how to actually use it. Nam-gyu was vaguely aware he wasn't supposed to treat shampoo and conditioner as the same thing—even though he totally did. Dae-ho deserved better, though.
“How are you supposed to use the conditioner?” Dae-ho half turned around, confusion making his eyebrows bunch together. “I don't use this fancy stuff. I use two-in-one.” Nam-gyu added, holding up the bottle. Dae-ho stared back blankly. Something seemed to click in his head.
“Two-in-one…? That's terrible for your hair!” he exclaimed, turning around fully now.
“Yeah, of course you'd know that, topknot.”
“How long have you been using it for?”
“I dunno… since forever? It works just fine for me.”
Dae-ho gaped.
“No, I can't allow this. Your poor hair…. I'll wash it. Properly.” Dae-ho shook his head—he looked like a mother disappointed in her child. Nam-gyu shrugged, grinning without meaning to. He was so funny when he got fussy.
“Put it on the ends of my hair, and make sure it doesn't touch my scalp.” Nam-gyu did as he was told, carefully combining his fingers up to the mid way point of his hair. After he was done, Nam-gyu turned around to let Dae-ho wash his hair. He was taller than him and his posture was better so Nam-gyu didn't have to tilt his head up and look at the grimy ceiling, opting to slouch comfortably instead. The shampoo opened with a pop and soon Dae-ho's gentle fingers were on his scalp.
As he worked, a wave of tranquility passed over Nam-gyu. To be taken care of was nice. It was just so…domestic. Had he ever felt so peaceful before in his life? He couldn't really remember. His childhood was a blur he chose to forget, and his days of working as a club promoter were spotty, a book with some of its pages torn out. He remembered the drugs—pills, needles, powders of all kinds that baited him with a taste of heaven then held him by the neck, determined to keep him chained for life. And at some point, he stopped trying to break out.
The feeling he felt back then, under flashing lights, blaring music, and hazy drinking…he shoved the memories away, quickly regretting ever trying to pry. He fumbled for his rings—but quickly remembered he had left them on the sink. He pressed his teeth together instead. God, he was going to slip and fall into nothing if he kept thinking about it.
“Ah, my boy Nam-su! C’mere, I have something new for you. You'll love it.”
He took a shallow breath, the smell of sweet, floral hair product tickling his nose. Dae-ho’s fingers rubbed behind his ears. The water glistened like broken shards from a blue crystal.
He has a proper job now. He's beaten his addiction. He has a partner who supports him. That's right. He hasn't taken a recreational drug in years.
Water cascaded down his head, breaking him out of his trance. Dae-ho must have finished already. His song had ended—it was silent now.
Nam-gyu brought his knees to his chest, watching his silhouette copy him in the water’s reflection. The evening was dwindling like a dying candle light, coating the bathroom in a cool darkness.
He was distantly aware of something pulling him down. Maybe a thread had tied itself around his heart and was dragging it away, but had to be careful about it before Nam-gyu noticed. A wave of cold washed over his arms despite the warm water.
“You okay?” Dae-ho asked, having noticed the silence.
“Yes.” He gave a curt reply that sounded like a retort. Dad-ho shifted, but otherwise didn’t respond. Nam-gyu wanted to snap at him for that. Yes, he was fine. Why wouldn't he be?
…why did he want to say that? Nam-gyu blinked, creasing his eyebrows. There wasn't anything wrong in asking how someone was doing. He knew that.
“Sorry,” Nam-gyu mumbled.
“It’s okay. Is there something on your mind?” Dae-ho asked, ever patient.
He remembered the phone call, and how angry he had gotten. Something was buried under his outburst, and it poked at the back of his throat, asking to be spit out. He resisted the urge to swallow.
Nam-gyu wasn't angry then, and he wasn't angry now. Not really. Maybe he was just scared.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you over the phone.”
“It’s okay,” Dae-ho murmured, his tone softening.
“I think…I think I was afraid.”
“Afraid?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Of me?”
“No. I think…” Nam-gyu trailed off. Dae-ho put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it slowly.
If this were anywhere else, Nam-gyu would have cringed at his words and insisted Dae-ho pretend he didn't hear anything. Cutting his heart out and offering it to Dae-ho gave him a chance to crush it, leaving Nam-gyu to pick up the broken pieces. But in this space—in this tight apartment in an even tighter tub—the rawness of it all felt like a sacred ground. You’d be stupid to lie, because only genuine words were allowed here.
“I think I was afraid we would stop being close. At my job, the super market, you know I work during the day. Mostly during the week, but sometimes during the weekends. It was pretty much the same for you, so because of that, it was never like I got to see you a whole lot. And with this new schedule…” He shifted, leaning into Dae-ho’s warmth. “I think I was…am still… afraid to lose you.” Nam-gyu sucked in a breath. Now that it was out, he couldn't stop, like a dam breaking loose. “I hate feeling like I'm going to ruin everything between us. Something will happen, we’ll stop hanging out, and I'll never see you again. Or some shit like that, I don’t know. I always fuck everything up. I don't…I don't want that to happen. I don't wanna be without you.”
Dae-ho is a kind man. He's never taken advantage of the secrets Nam-gyu's told him. Never brought anything over his head when they were arguing. He wouldn't even join in on Nam-gyu's shit talking, always telling him to “knock it off.” Nam-gyu's not like Dae-ho. He is a kind, genuine person who doesn't go out of his way to attack and criticize. He was literally holding him right now. So why did Nam-gyu feel like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to fall at any moment?
Clink-clink. Water echoed in the room like wind chimes. Arms wrapped around his torso and a wet cheek pressed against his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.” Dae-ho’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“No.” They were both whispering now. “Don't apologize. It's not anything you did.” For some reason, tears pricked in his eyes. His throat grew heavy, threatening to collapse from the inside. Nam-gyu sagged against him, and Dae-ho pulled him closer.
“I don't think relationships in general are something that can be so easily ruined,” Dae-ho said. In the distance, the call of an ambulance faded in and out. He continued. “There might be fighting and tears sometimes, but it's not like people get curses put on them and they can't ever be together again. For every type of relationship, not just the romantic kind. But that's just what I believe. No matter how long it takes, people find a way to fix themselves.”
Nam-gyu’s reflection turned muddled—he decided he would attribute this to the steam and lack of light.
“There’ll be bumps between us, but that's inevitable. And it's not like you're alone. We're a team, so we'll get through them together.”
“...Yeah?”
“Mhm,” Dae-ho confirmed. Nam-gyu wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Still, his vision grew blurrier. “Together forever. You’d get so sick of me.”
That would never be true. Getting sick of Dae-ho wasn't something Nam-gyu could even imagine. He would never tire of Dae-ho's light, his enthusiasm, his sense of fairness. The way he’d talk about something for too long or how he always made sure no was left out. He could picture them growing old together.
“No, never,” Nam-gyu insisted. Dae-ho chuckled against his shoulder, a soft, breathy sound that sent gentle ripples through Nam-gyu's soul.
“...Thank you for telling me, by the way,” Dae-ho said, his grip tightening around Nam-gyu's waist. He can tell by the way he talks that he's smiling. But it also feels slow, deliberate—almost tense.
Nam-gyu opened his mouth to speak, but he's afraid his voice would break the delicate vulnerability that's settled over them. He closed his mouth. He's not sure what to say anyway. He nodded instead.
Dae-ho's breath tickled his nape.
“...I love you.”
Nam-gyu's breath hitched. Dae-ho was barely audible, so he's not sure if he heard that right. Nam-gyu turned around to look at him, water sloshing against hard plastic. Even in the dark, he can tell Dae-ho's eyes are misty. They look back at him shyly, just as vulnerable as Nam-gyu's is. He's smiling, but it looks fragile—if Nam-gyu's not careful, it might shatter at the slightest give.
“That's what I was trying to say,” Dae-ho added. He looked up at Nam-gyu, hopeful, like maybe he's the one about to fall off the cliff and not Nam-gyu. His eyes sting, and hot tears drip down his face. Dae-ho's face is a melted blur now, but hands come to wipe tears off his cheeks nevertheless.
“Dae-ho, I—”
He was right. It did break, his voice going too high and squeaky at the end. Nam-gyu grabbed Dae-ho’s face in his hands and gave a fierce kiss to his lips before pulling back and sobbing, his shoulders shaking violently. Relief made him weak, great waves of emotion rocking through his body. Dae-ho cradled Nam-gyu to his chest and let him sob on his shoulder. All the pent up fear and frustration burst from its containment, a bomb that had run out of time. And even though he was bawling his eyes out, it felt so good to cry.
Slowly, loudly, Nam-gyu resolved to hiccups and sniffles. Dae-ho still had him wrapped in a protective hug, his chin on Nam-gyu's head.
“All good now?” Dae-ho asked.
“Yeah.” Nam-gyu's an ugly crier. He knows that. Drool, tears, and snot clung to his face, and his voice was raw and itchy. Hair stuck to his skin like burrs. The water wasn’t clean anymore, and the fun in a bath had gone along with the temperature. But despite his disheveled state, he felt okay.
“Good. Let’s get cleaned up, hm?”
“Okay,” he croaked. Dae-ho pulled back from Nam-gyu. He assumed he was getting up to turn the light on, but he stayed. Dae-ho studied him in the dimness. The only light was a sliver of amber from under the door. Even in the dark, Nam-gyu could see the clear affection that welled up in Dae-ho's eyes. Tucking back his own hair, he bent down and placed a tender kiss on Nam-gyu's inner elbow, where his track marks were. Warmth bloomed from the spot like a wildflower in spring. Dae-ho smiled. And Nam-gyu knew then that everything would be okay.
Apparently, otters hold hands in water to make sure they don't drift away from each other. He wondered if the ones that did ever found each other again.
Nam-gyu stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around his shoulders. His steps are light and airy, barely brushing against the floor. Dae-ho had gotten out early, and probably for the better. He had begun to turn red from how long they had spent together in the tub.
Speaking of—Dae-ho came to meet him, already properly dressed in his work clothes. “It's about time I get going.”
“Aw, lame. Good luck.”
“Thank you, babe,” Dae-ho paused, then squinted. “Hey—are those my pajamas?” He pointed to Nam-gyu’s clothes, which were more like a faded, oversized shirt and pants than pajamas.
“No, it's not.” Yes, it was.
“You sure?” Dae-ho asked with his stupid puppy grin.
“Well, maybe…. Go to work already,” Nam-gyu said. He leaned forward and gave Dae-ho a kiss on his cheek, like it was a tax he needed to pay.
“Okay, okay,” Dae-ho chirped. “I’ll call you when my shift is over!”
As Nam-gyu watched Dae-ho make his way toward the door, he thought about what Dae-ho had said in the bathtub. Relationships aren't so easily broken. They aren't brittle. They can be put back together again, but it requires the work of two people. At that, an agitation Nam-gyu hadn't realized was there finally quieted in his chest.
They were going to be okay. They would try their best to.
Dae-ho put his hand on the doorknob. The metal door swung open—jet black night spilled out to greet them, stars and promises dotting the sky. A soft wind pulled at Dae-ho, urging him to go catch his train.
But he turned around again. His eyes shone.
“I love you, Nam-gyu.”
“I love you more, Dae-ho.”