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Suho and Sieun had been dating for two months now, much to the surprise of absolutely no one in their friend group. They had gotten together after what could generously be called “a bit of back and forth” during Sieun’s second year of college—though really, it had been more like years of painful pining, missed signals, and their friends collectively losing their minds watching two oblivious idiots dance around each other. And honestly, once they’d finally gotten their act together, they really went from zero to one hundred quick. From their first official date to moving in together had taken exactly three weeks and two days—not that Suho was counting or anything.
Much to everyone’s mock annoyance and secret delight.
They were all gathered at some fried chicken joint where their friend group had claimed a spot in the back corner.
“We’ve been pushing you two together for years now,” Baku gestured dramatically with a chicken wing, sauce dripping dangerously close to his shirt, “and you what—speed run the entire relationship in a month? What’s next, you’re gonna have kids by Friday?”
Gotak nearly choked on his beer, laughing so hard he started coughing. “Yah, I expected this energy from Suho but I didn’t know our innocent Sieun could be this bad either. Moving in after one week of official dating!”
“Three weeks,” Sieun corrected quietly, but his ears were turning pink.
“Oh, excuse me, three whole weeks. So much better,” Gotak rolled his eyes at them.
“What do you mean too fast? We’re high school sweethearts!” Suho protested, his voice rising enough that a few nearby tables glanced over with amused expressions. The table erupted into loud protests from Baku and Gotak.
“You’re delusional,” Gotak said shaking his head.
“You didn’t even start dating until college,” Baku wheezed.
Suho looked at them incredulously. Shaking his head and taking a swig of his beer.
Suho wished they actually were high school sweethearts—wished he’d been brave enough to confess sooner, instead of spending years convinced Sieun would never see him as more than a friend. But he also didn’t regret a single rushed decision they’d made since finally getting together. The end was always going to be the same—there had never been anyone else in his heart but Sieun.
“I think it’s cute. I’m very happy for you guys,” Juntae said softly, directing his gentle smile mostly toward Sieun, who had been quietly picking at his food while the others bickered.
“Thank you, Juntae,” Sieun smiled back, his voice warm with genuine appreciation as he pointedly ignored the continued bickering between Suho, Gotak, and Baku.
Under the table, hidden from view, Suho’s fingers found Sieun’s, lacing them together and squeezing gently. It was a small gesture, but one that had become automatic over the past two months—reaching for each other, maintaining that constant connection even in a crowded room full of their closest friends. Sieun squeezed back without hesitation, his thumb brushing across Suho’s knuckles in a way that sent warmth spreading through his entire chest.
The conversation flowed naturally from there—complaints about part-time jobs, upcoming exams, gossip about various classmates.
The familiar rhythm of their group dynamic settled around them, voices overlapping and interrupting in the way that only happened between people who were truly comfortable with each other.
Suho found himself relaxing into the booth, one arm draped across the back behind Sieun, watching his friends with deep contentment. This—hanging out with good food and cold beer, listening to his friends bicker about nothing important while the love of his life sat warm and solid against his side—this was exactly where he wanted to be.
Suho had grown genuinely close with Sieun’s friends—their friends now—over time, and Sieun had discovered he was actually quite good at making friends and acquaintances in a setting outside of high school. He was sought after a bit, in a way that made Suho simultaneously proud and possessively nervous. Part of him wanted to keep Sieun all to himself. But he was glad for this change considering everything they’ve gone through.
“What about next week? We could all go see that new action movie,” Gotak suggested.
Coordinating their schedules had become increasingly difficult as they all juggled part-time jobs, full course loads, and various other commitments. Between Suho’s shifts at the convenience store, Sieun’s demanding coursework, and everyone else’s respective obligations, finding a day when all five of them were free required some real organizational skills. But they always made it work somehow—their friend group was too important to let slide, a priority they’d all seemed to silently agree on.
“What day works for everyone?” Sieun asked, and Suho could practically see the mental calendar spinning behind his boyfriend’s focused expression. Sieun was naturally organized.
“Thursday?” Gotak suggested hopefully. “The seven o’clock showing?”
Most everyone nodded—Baku checked his phone and gave a thumbs up, Juntae verbally confirmed he was free, and even Sieun seemed to be mentally checking his schedule without any immediate red flags. Suho was about to voice his agreement when Sieun suddenly shook his head, his expression shifting to something almost… guilty?
“I can’t Thursday. I’ve got a presentation with the chemistry club that afternoon, and I’m not sure how long it’ll run.”
The words hung in the air for a moment before chaos erupted around their table.
“You joined a club?” Baku asked incredulously, as if Sieun had just announced he was joining the circus or running for student government.
“Chemistry club?” Juntae wondered aloud, his eyebrows rising. “Since when do you do extracurriculars?”
“Are you being blackmailed?” Gotak asked with complete seriousness, leaning forward across the table as if ready to throw hands with whoever might be threatening their friend.
Suho smacked Gotak upside the head, laughing despite his own confusion. “Lay off him.” But he turned to look at Sieun too, genuinely curious. This was the first he was hearing about any chemistry club, and usually Sieun told him everything.
Sieun rolled his eyes at their dramatic reactions, but there was fond exasperation in the gesture rather than real annoyance. “I didn’t join any club. The president asked me to fill in for a sick student on Thursday. It’s a one-time thing—I’m just helping them out.”
“Ohhh, look at our Sieunah,” Baku cooed teasingly, “so popular in college! Getting personally recruited by club presidents! Don’t forget about us little people when you’re famous.”
The comment was obviously meant to be playful, but Suho caught the genuine pride underlying Baku’s teasing tone. They all looked proud, actually—proud and maybe a little bit amazed by how far their normally reticent friend had come. Sieun had always been brilliant, but college had given him the confidence to let that brilliance shine, and it was beautiful to watch.
They lost track of time after that, bickering good-naturedly about movie preferences and debating whether the restaurant’s new menu items were worth trying. In the end, they agreed to go to the movies on Thursday while Sieun promised to make it to the next hangout.
It wasn’t until Suho caught sight of the clock on the far wall that he realized they’d been sitting there for nearly three hours, empty plates and glasses scattered across their table as evidence of a very successful evening.
They settled up their bill with the usual antics—arguing over who had eaten more, miscounting change, and Juntae quietly covering the difference when they came up short because he was too polite to call anyone out on their math. Eventually, they made it outside into the crisp evening, breath visible in small puffs as they stood on the sidewalk figuring out rides.
The cab ride home was quiet and comfortable, city lights streaming past the windows in warm blurs of yellow and white. Sieun dozed against Suho’s shoulder, his breathing evening out as exhaustion from a long week finally caught up with him. He’d been working extra hard lately, staying up late over textbooks and lab reports, and the warmth of the restaurant combined with a full stomach had clearly done him in.
Suho pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, inhaling the familiar scent of Sieun’s shampoo—something clean and subtle that he’d grown addicted to over the past two months of sharing a bed. The weight of Sieun’s head on his shoulder, the clear trust in the way his boyfriend relaxed completely against him, never failed to make Suho feel like the luckiest person alive.
~
The rest of the week passed in the comfortable rhythm they’d settled into since moving in together. Suho worked his regular shifts at the 24-hour convenience store near campus, occasionally picking up extra hours when his coworker called in sick or when they needed the money for something.
Their tiny one bedroom apartment was nothing special—a fourth-floor walkup with thin walls, a small kitchen, and a bathroom with a perpetually leaky faucet—but it was theirs. Every morning, Suho woke up to Sieun’s sleep warmed body pressed against his back. Every evening, they collapsed onto their couch and debated what to watch on Suho’s laptop while sharing whatever quick dinner Suho managed to get together.
It was domestic in a way that should have been boring, but instead felt like a prize they had earned.
“You’re working too much,” Sieun had scolded him Tuesday evening, looking up from his homework with concern creasing his forehead. “You picked up three extra shifts this week.”
“What?” Suho had grinned, pulling Sieun away from his textbooks and into his lap, delighting in the way he went willingly despite his protests. “I’m the provider of the house until you finish your studies. Then I can be your trophy husband and live in luxury.”
“You provide plenty,” Sieun had replied without thinking, then immediately turned bright red as the double meaning of his words hit him.
Suho had laughed, absolutely delighted by the accidental innuendo, and proceeded to press kisses all over Sieun’s face—his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, anywhere he could reach—until they were both breathless and laughing. One thing had led to another, as it tended to do when they were alone in their apartment, and they’d ended up thoroughly distracted from both homework and responsible bedtimes.
The next morning, they’d both been scrambling to get ready, Suho grabbing a piece of toast and his convenience store uniform while Sieun cursed over a chemistry lab report he’d meant to finish the night before. But even running late, Suho had felt stupidly happy watching Sieun rush around their tiny apartment in yesterday’s clothes, hair sticking up at odd angles, absolutely swimming in a shirt that was Suho's.
Thursday arrived with the first real bite of winter in the air. Suho bundled up in his thick jacket and the scarf Sieun had bought him, getting ready to meet the others at the cinema while Sieun was already at his mysterious chemistry club presentation.
He’d seemed nervous before leaving, fidgeting with his bag straps and checking his phone repeatedly, and Suho made a mental note to text him good luck before turning off his phone in the theater.
The movie outing was chaotic in the best way—they spilled popcorn, Gotak provided unnecessarily dramatic commentary during action scenes, and Baku somehow managed to cry during what was supposed to be a mindless blockbuster. Afterward, they hit up their favorite late-night food stall, still hungry despite the theater snacks.
Suho turned on his phone to call Sieun, hoping he might be free to meet up so they could head home together. The phone rang once, twice, then went to voicemail. He frowned, sending a quick text instead
Suho: How’d it go? Want to meet up?
“Yah, you can’t live without Sieun for a few hours or what?” Baku noticed Suho’s distracted phone checking, grinning around a mouthful of food.
“It’s not that,” Suho protested, though his cheeks warmed slightly. “He was just nervous about his presentation today. I wanted to make sure it went well.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Gotak said distractedly, still studying the menu as if he hadn’t been coming to this stall for three years.
“Sieun-ah is brilliant,” Juntae added supportively. “Whatever he presented, I’m sure it was impressive.”
Suho sighed and tried to push down his worry, but it lingered at the back of his mind throughout the rest of the evening. By the time he made it home, he’d only received one text from Sieun.
Sieun♡: It went okay. Going out to celebrate with everyone—home late. Love you.
Suho: Okay, love u too :)
He tried to settle in for the night, but sleep didn't come easily. The apartment felt too quiet, too empty without Sieun’s presence.
He woke immediately when he felt the mattress dip, his body automatically recognizing the familiar weight and warmth of Sieun sliding into bed beside him. For all of Suho’s outward clinginess—the hand holding and casual touches and general inability to keep his hands to himself in public—Sieun was definitely the needier one in private, always seeking contact and closeness the moment they were alone together.
True to form, Sieun pressed up against Suho’s back like a cat seeking warmth, his cold nose finding the space between Suho’s shoulder blades and making him shiver. Suho immediately rolled over and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, pulling him close until Sieun was tucked securely against his chest.
“How’d it go?” he murmured, still half-asleep but needing to check in, to make sure Sieun was okay.
“I don’t think I did well,” Sieun whispered back, and Suho could hear the frustration and self-doubt threading through his voice. Even in the darkness, he could sense the tension in Sieun’s shoulders, the way his mind was still turning over whatever had happened during his presentation.
“Mm, no,” Suho mumbled, sleep making his thoughts sluggish and his words imprecise.
“No?” There was amusement creeping into Sieun’s tone now, probably at Suho’s incoherent response.
Suho really wasn’t sure what he was trying to say, but he managed to string together “You’re amazing. You did great, I know it. We can talk about your worries tomorrow when I can think properly, okay?”
The words were punctuated by a jaw-cracking yawn that made Sieun huff a quiet laugh against his chest.
“Okay,” Sieun agreed softly, finally relaxing into Suho’s embrace.
They drifted off together, tangled up in their shared warmth and the comfortable darkness of their bedroom, but not before Suho pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of Sieun’s head and made a mental note to properly check in about the presentation in the morning.
~
The next morning, it became immediately obvious that Sieun was still stuck in his own head about whatever had happened the day before. Suho had called his name twice from across their kitchen—once to ask if he wanted coffee, once to ask about his plans for the day—before getting any kind of response.
“Hm?” Sieun finally glanced up from his phone, where he’d been staring at what looked like the same webpage for the past ten minutes, his expression distant and unfocused.
Suho sighed, abandoning the coffee he’d been making to cross their small living space and squeeze Sieun’s cheeks between his palms, physically forcing Sieun to focus on him instead of whatever was happening on that phone screen.
“Hey,” he said gently, thumbs stroking across Sieun’s cheekbones. “You’re worrying me. What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”
The physical contact seemed to ground Sieun immediately, his expression softening as he leaned into Suho’s touch. “I’m okay,” he said, but his voice wasn't so convincing.
“Are you?” Suho kept his tone gentle, searching Sieun’s face for clues about what was bothering him. “Did your presentation really go that badly yesterday?”
Sieun shook his head slightly, still trapped between Suho’s hands. “It didn’t go bad at all,” he admitted quietly. “But… it wasn’t perfect either.”
“Yeah?” Suho prompted, releasing Sieun’s face to return to their coffee, giving his boyfriend space to organize his thoughts while still staying close enough to provide comfort if needed.
“It’s just…” Sieun paused, seeming to wrestle with his words. “It wasn’t perfect. I made some mistakes, forgot a couple of details I meant to include. It’s fine—I’ll do better next time.”
Suho furrowed his brow, genuinely confused. “I thought this was a one-time thing? Baby, don’t stress yourself out over this. You’re not even in the chemistry club.”
The flat, unimpressed look Sieun gave him could have withered flowers.
“Right,” Suho said quickly, wisely choosing to shut his mouth before he dug himself into a deeper hole.
He served their breakfast and made a conscious effort to change the subject to a safer topic. Whatever this chemistry club thing was, it was clearly more important to Sieun than he’d initially let on, and pushing the issue wasn’t going to help anyone.
His boyfriend was stubborn when he set his mind to something, a trait that Suho usually found endearing but could occasionally be frustrating when it meant Sieun refused to ask for help or admit when he was struggling.
~
Over the next week, Sieun had “obligations” with the chemistry club twice more—once on Monday evening, once on Wednesday afternoon—and each time he returned home looking more frustrated and exhausted than when he’d left.
Monday, he’d come back with what looked like chalk in his hair and a small burn on his thumb that he’d tried to hide under a Band-Aid. When Suho had asked about it, Sieun had just muttered something about “equipment malfunctions” and disappeared into their tiny bathroom for a very long shower.
Wednesday was even worse. Sieun had returned home nearly two hours later than expected, his clothes wrinkled and smelling faintly of something sweet and burnt. He’d been quiet during dinner, pushing food around his plate more than actually eating, and had gone to bed early claiming to be tired from his regular coursework.
Suho was starting to seriously worry, but every time he tried to bring up the chemistry club, Sieun would deflect or change the subject with the skill of someone who’d had years of practice avoiding conversations he didn’t want to have.
But it was finally the weekend, and they’d both cleared their schedules completely for date night and their three month anniversary celebration.
Suho could admit they were probably a little ridiculous, celebrating every monthly milestone like it was a major holiday, but honestly? After everything they’d been through to get here they deserved it.
Friday night was perfect in its simplicity. They’d ordered takeout from their favorite take out place. They’d curled up together on their couch, sharing bites of each other’s food and watching a cheesy romcom that Suho chose and Sieun pretended not to like.
They’d made it through most of the movie before getting distracted by the much more interesting activity of kissing on their couch, takeout containers forgotten on the coffee table and the laptop screen casting flickering light across their faces.
Eventually, they’d made it to bed at a reasonable hour for once, falling asleep tangled together while Sieun traced lazy patterns across Suho’s chest and murmured about the plans for their anniversary the next day.
Saturday morning, Suho should have known something was different the moment he woke up to find Sieun’s side of the bed not just empty, but cold—as if his boyfriend had been gone for a while already. On lazy weekend mornings when they had nowhere to be, Sieun usually stayed curled up under their blankets until Suho woke up, stealing body heat and demanding five more minutes of cuddling before they had to get up.
The fact that he was already up and moving around was definitely unusual, but Suho had chalked it up to anniversary excitement. Maybe Sieun had plans for the day that required an early start.
He’d dozed for another twenty minutes, enjoying the warmth of their bed and the distant sounds of Sieun moving around their apartment—the soft thud of cabinet doors, the quiet clink of dishes, the familiar hum of their coffee maker turning on. It all sounded perfectly normal, domestic and peaceful in the way that never failed to make Suho feel grateful for the life they’d built together.
That was strike one, the cold bed and early morning activity.
Strike two came in the form of smoke— sharp and definitely wrong—drifting all the way from their kitchen to their bedroom. Suho sat up immediately, nose wrinkling as the smell grew stronger, his sleepy contentment rapidly shifting to concern.
Strike three arrived in the form of Sieun’s voice carrying clearly through the apartment a frustrated, slightly panicked “Shit!” followed immediately by the distinctive crash and sound of glass shattering against their floor.
Suho was up and moving before his brain fully processed the situation, he shoved his feet into his slides and rushed toward the kitchen. The smoke smell intensified with each step, and he could hear Sieun sighing loudly.
“Baby?” Suho called out as he rounded the corner into their kitchen.
The sight that greeted him was, admittedly, kind of funny, or would be as soon as he knew if Sieun was hurt or not. Their kitchen looked like a disaster zone. Every available surface was covered in a fine layer of what appeared to be a mist flour. Something on their stovetop was actively burning, sending up thick, dark smoke that made his eyes water and his throat burn. In the middle of the kitchen floor, Sieun stood frozen like a beautiful, frustrated statue—completely barefoot, wearing only his oversized sleep shirt and boxers, surrounded by what appeared to be the scattered remains of one of their good glasses. His dark hair was sticking up at odd angles, suggesting he’d been running his hands through it, and there was a suspicious white streak across his cheek that looked like flour.
Sieun’s eyes went impossibly wide the moment he spotted Suho in the doorway, his expression shifting from general panic to mortification. His shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Don’t move,” Suho said automatically, taking in the glass situation, but Sieun was already way ahead of him on that front.
Sieun let out a long sigh, tilting his head back to stare at their ceiling as if it might offer some divine intervention or at least a convenient escape route. When he looked back at Suho, his expression was a mixture of embarrassment and something that looked suspiciously close to being overwhelmed.
“Help me,” he said simply, and Suho could hear the frustration creeping into his boyfriend’s usually composed voice. It made Suho’s heart clench with sympathy and affection.
“Yah, you forgot to say please,” Suho teased gently but he was already moving, carefully navigating around the worst of the glass shards to reach him.He slipped his arms around Sieun’s waist, lifting him easily and setting him gently on their kitchen counter, well away from the broken glass. The position put them at eye level, and Suho took a moment to really look at his boyfriend—checking for cuts or burns, making sure he was actually okay beneath all the flour and frustration.
Satisfied that Sieun was physically unharmed, Suho pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, tasting flour and something slightly sweet. Sieun leaned into the gesture, some of the tension leaving his frame at the simple contact.
“So,” Suho said, deliberately keeping his tone light as he stepped strategically out of Sieun’s reach, “why exactly are you trying to burn down my kitchen?”
He moved to grab the broom and dustpan from their spot by the trash can, noting that the shattered glass appeared to be one of the cups from the set Juntae had given them for their housewarming. Definitely replaceable, but he’d have to remember to text him for the brand name, Sieun really liked those.
“I wasn’t burning it down,” Sieun mumbled, his hand automatically moving to tug at his ear—a nervous habit he had that Suho found unreasonably endearing.
Suho paused in his glass sweeping to shoot Sieun an incredulous look, then looking around at their kitchen. The smoke was still visible, Sieun had just coughed from the lingering haze, and whatever was in the pan on the stove was beyond recognition.
“Right,” Suho said dryly, carefully sweeping the larger glass pieces into the dustpan.
Sieun made a soft sound of protest mixed with embarrassment. “I’ll open a window,” he said, moving to slide off the counter.
“Wait,” Suho said quickly, catching his movement. “Let me get your slippers first. I want to make sure I got all the glass.”
He padded quickly to their bedroom, grabbing Sieun’s favorite fuzzy slippers—ridiculous things shaped like bunnies that Suho had bought him as a joke gift but that Sieun had immediately adopted as his primary house footwear. When he returned, Sieun was sitting patiently back on the counter. Suho knelt down and carefully fitted the slippers onto Sieun’s feet.
“Thank you,” Sieun said softly, and when Suho looked up, those dark eyes that had caught his attention the very first day they met, watching him with an expression so tender it made his chest tight. Suho had been mesmerized by those eyes for years now—the way they lit up when Sieun was excited about a new discovery, the way they went soft and unfocused when he was thinking through a complex problem, the way they crinkled at the corners when he was genuinely amused rather than just being polite.
“Suho-yah,” Sieun said, and there was a note of amusement creeping into his voice now.
“Mm?” Suho responded, still a bit distracted by his very pretty, very bad at cooking boyfriend.
“Can you turn off the stove?” Sieun asked, definitely amused now. “Before we actually do burn the apartment down?”
“Oh. Right.” Suho snapped back to reality, quickly moving to turn off the burner. On the griddle there were several black, smoking lumps that bore no resemblance to any food known to mankind. The smell was actually impressive in its terribleness.
“Um,” Suho said, poking at one of the lumps with a spatula and watching it crumble into charcoal bits, “what exactly were you trying to make?”
Sieun pulled out his phone, swiping to what appeared to be a bookmarked recipe page, and held it out for Suho to see. The screen showed a photo of perfectly fluffy pancakes topped with what looked like a meringue topping.
“Oh,” Suho said, looking between the photo and the burnt remains on their stove.
“Yeah,” Sieun replied very seriously.
Suho was actually speechless for a moment.
Sieun had hopped down from the counter and was already starting to clean up, moving with efficiency, but Suho could tell he was upset. Not angry, exactly, but disappointed in that particular way Sieun got when his high standards for himself crashed into reality.
Suho started helping with the cleanup, and after a few minutes of working in companionable silence, Sieun spoke up.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said quietly, scraping burnt pancake remnants into the trash. “I’ve been practicing. This girl in one of my classes—Yoon Harin—she’s a really good cook and offered to teach me.”
Suho paused, a piece of burnt batter halfway to the trash can. “Teach you when?” Then the pieces were clicking together in his mind. “Oh. The chemistry club meetings.”
Sieun nodded, looking sheepish. “There was no chemistry club. Sorry for lying. And sorry for the burnt pancakes.” His voice got smaller with each apology, and Suho felt his heart do that stupid fluttering thing it always did when Sieun got vulnerable.
Suho set down the spatula he’d been holding and leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, fighting back a smile. “You know, you could have asked me to help you. This Yoon Harin was obviously not a very good teacher.”
He was just joking, and Sieun seemed to recognize it as such. He shuffled closer to Suho, who automatically opened his arms to pull him into a hug. Sieun fit perfectly against his chest, solid and warm.
“That would completely negate the purpose of me surprising you for our anniversary,” Sieun said, his voice slightly muffled against Suho’s shoulder. There was a sulky note to it that made Suho want to kiss the pout right off his lips.
“Yeah, but then we could have spent all that time you were taking secret cooking lessons together,” Suho pointed out reasonably, running his hand up and down Sieun’s back in slow, soothing strokes.
He felt rather than saw Sieun pretend to consider this, probably weighing the theoretical benefits in that analytical way of his. When Sieun pulled back to look at him, Suho deliberately stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.
The effect was immediate—Sieun’s expression shifted from sulky to fond to amused in the span of about three seconds, and then he was smiling, the real smile that had always made Suho feel like he’d won something important.
“You’re right,” Sieun admitted, leaning up to press a quick, sweet kiss to Suho’s lips. It tasted like morning and promises and just a tiny bit like smoke.
“Of course I am,” Suho grinned, chasing the kiss into something slower and more thorough, pouring all his affection for Sieun into it. When they broke apart, both slightly breathless, he pressed their foreheads together. “Come on, let’s finish cleaning up this up and start over. We can make terrible pancakes together this time.”
“They won’t be terrible if you’re helping,” Sieun said with such complete confidence, that Suho didn’t have the heart to mention that his own pancake-making experience was limited to the box mix kind.
“We’ll figure it out,” Suho said instead, he felt that familiar contentment settle in his chest. They had the rest of their lives to learn new things together—to make messes and clean them up, to surprise each other and be surprised in return.