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The night before Jihoon leaves, Soonyoung finds himself cross-legged in his apartment by Jihoon’s side, hastily packing and repacking Jihoon’s small carry-on. His own bag is sitting neglected in the hall, packed carefully by Jihoon a few days earlier.
They weren’t allowed to take much with them, and Soonyoung was torn between multiple items from his own wardrobe, trying to figure out which would bring Jihoon the most comfort.
He’d given up despairingly multiple times, hands shaking as he pieced through black shirts and comfortable sweaters that smelled like home.
He huffs again, biting back some more frustrated tears that he couldn’t seem to stop from coming.
Jihoon treads back into the room, his steps quiet and hushed like the air around them, and sits down closely at Soonyoung’s side.
“It’s not that long, not really.” He tells him, his voice soft yet determined. Typical Jihoon, downplaying everything until the last possible minute.
Soonyoung wasn’t feeling nearly as optimistic. He runs his gaze over Jihoon’s side profile — the sweet curve of his nose, that persistent pout of his lips — profiling those images to memory just to keep himself going.
“It’s nearly two years, Ji.”
Just saying it has that lump forming in Soonyoung’s throat again, tight and sharp against his windpipe. He drops his head down onto Jihoon’s shoulder, latching onto the steady weight of him.
Jihoon laces their fingers together tightly. His palms are clammy, and Soonyoung can feel him shaking against his grip.
“We’ll see each other in between, though.” Jihoon whispers, “And we can call, once we get our phones back.”
Dread swirls in Soonyoung’s stomach. He lifts his face, and when he meets Jihoon’s eyes, he’s shocked to find them damp with tears.
Any disagreement dies on his tongue.
Jihoon hasn’t cried once, during this entire process, aside from getting a little teary when Soonyoung had shaved his head for him.
Soonyoung had kissed his scalp gently when he’d finished, and Jihoon had sucked in a wobbly breath. They’d spent the rest of the evening quiet. Jihoon had slipped on a beanie and one of Soonyoung’s sweatshirts, curling up tightly to him on the couch.
He’d wanted it to be his decision — a reclamation of sorts. Sure, they could take him, but he still wanted some of that power for himself — to get his hair cut by someone he loved, not a sharp military sergeant that didn’t know that Jihoon’s ears were sensitive, and that he didn’t like getting hair in his eyes when it was cut.
“You’re right.” Soonyoung whispers. He presses a kiss to the soft skin of his jaw, and cups the gentle curve of Jihoon’s cheek. “We’ll be okay.”
Jihoon’s chin is trembling, his eyes watering earnestly now. He huffs in something tight and frustrated, averting his gaze from Soonyoung’s kind face.
“I’ll miss you.” He mumbles, eyes trained on Soonyoung’s ceiling. “It’s — it’s a lot scarier, now that it’s here.”
Soonyoung’s heart twists. They’d had dinner with the members earlier, as a final goodbye, and when Seungcheol had gotten choked up during their farewell speech, Soonyoung had to clench Jihoon’s hand under the table to keep from sobbing right then and there.
“It is.” Soonyoung agrees. He kisses Jihoon’s forehead, long and lingering. “But we’re going together — almost. You aren’t scared alone.”
He won’t ever forget the day they found out they couldn’t enlist together. Jihoon had curled up silently, inconsolable and far-away, and Soonyoung had rampaged around the house until his voice was hoarse and his hands were sore from thrashing. It was one final kick in the teeth, a last reminder of their stolen freedom.
Jihoon doesn’t speak, still avoiding Soonyoung’s gaze as his bottom lip wobbles.
“I’ll be there tomorrow.” Soonyoung continues, “Until the last second. And as soon as we get a break, I’ll be at the gates waiting.”
Jihoon huffs out a shaky laugh. “With Latte?”
Soonyoung smiles. He tucks Jihoon’s head into the curve of his neck, his hair prickly against his cheek. “Yeah, with Latte. She’ll say goodbye, too.”
They made quite the pair — all teary eyes and shaved heads, somehow still soft in their home clothes and fluffy socks. He wraps his arms around Jihoon’s side, breathing in the scent of him. Another thing to keep locked up in his head, ready to access on long nights alone in an uncomfortable bunk.
There’s no use thinking about that now. Their clothes are still strewn about the floor, piled together like they belonged to one person. They might as well, at this point. Even when Soonyoung had searched through Jihoon’s wardrobe the first time he’d attempted to pack his bag, a majority of the things hanging there had once belonged to Soonyoung.
Soonyoung picks up another sweater, worn with use and fraying at the sleeves, but still soft against his fingers. He folds it tenderly, placing it gently at the top of Jihoon’s bag.
Jihoon’s voice is quiet when he speaks again. “I think I’m going to miss making music. I know I said I didn’t want to do it — but now that I’m here, I don’t think I know who I am without it.”
Soonyoung rubs a hand up and down Jihoon’s spine as he thinks. Jihoon without music had been on his mind since they’d first got the news — and even now, he couldn’t quite picture it.
“I’ve packed your notebook.” He says softly. “You can still write it, if you want to.”
Jihoon hums, and Soonyoung continues. “But maybe it’ll be good to have a break, just for a while. It might make you remember why you love it so much if you aren’t being terrorised by deadlines and public opinions.”
“My brain might explode.” Jihoon jokes. “I might come back and not even know how to play the piano anymore.”
Soonyoung laughs, short and gentle. “I don’t think so, honey. Besides, I’m sure they’ll be begging you to join the military band before you’ve even been given a uniform.”
The smile fades from Jihoon’s face, and he buries his head into Soonyoung’s neck, his voice tickling along his collarbones. “I don’t want to perform without you.”
He admits it quietly, but it shoots through Soonyoung’s chest like a bullet.
Eighteen months without watching Jihoon onstage felt like a lifetime. Even quiet moments in the studio, Jihoon humming tunes into his microphone as Soonyoung watched from the couch, seemed lightyears away.
The ache is hot and burning, an unflinching sensation in Soonyoung’s heart that he can’t seem to shake.
He swallows it down, though. Packs it away somewhere for another day and kisses Jihoon’s head again. “I won’t even sing in the shower. It won’t feel right, without you there.”
It was a redundant conversation. There was no changing it, now. The night was rapidly dwindling away, and soon Jihoon would be on the other side of those gates — shipped away somewhere far out of Soonyoung’s reach.
No matter how unfair it may be, Soonyoung wouldn’t let them take this final evening — this final chance for Jihoon to be all his.
He folds one last shirt, kissing the collar of it gently before he places it in the bag and zips it shut. There was love in there, buried within the clothes, the type that couldn’t just be washed away by cheap laundry detergent.
And there was love in his chest, too, hot and warm and unceasing. No matter how far apart they may be from each other, or for how long, it wouldn’t disappear.
“We’ll get there.” He tells Jihoon gently. “It’ll fly by. Soon enough we’ll be back here, and we’ll never have to be separated again.”
“Eighteen months.” Jihoon reiterates. It vibrates through Soonyoung’s chest.
“We didn’t meet for fifteen years, Ji, and that flew by. And even after that, another fifteen happened in the blink of an eye. A year and a bit is nothing, compared to that.”
Jihoon muses this for a moment, before shifting upright and meeting Soonyoung’s eyes. His face is earnest, and Soonyoung can see him trying to hide the disbelief there.
He kisses Soonyoung once, a gentle, fleeting thing, and nods. “I love you.” He whispers. It was a rarely spoken word between them, and Soonyoung makes sure to engrave it into his mind like a scar.
“And I love you.” He repeats. “Now, let's make the most of this evening, okay? The military hasn’t got its claws on you yet. Tonight you’re all mine.”
Jihoon nods, once, already sharp and precise, just as a soldier should be. But even under that, was Jihoon himself — soft, kind, gentle Jihoon with a heart too big for his body.
And the next morning, when Soonyoung kisses him goodbye before Jihoon travels to the base, Jihoon’s eyes are filled with that same softness.
Soonyoung knows that it won’t be gone by the time they meet again, that that part of Jihoon will stay untouched and holy in Soonyoung’s chest until the day they’re reunited properly — even if it is after eighteen months.