Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In a life where he’s used to constant change, having only known change as a constant, this is not something he’s equipped to handle.

It’s barely been a week since that night Yeosang came home to find his fiancée missing, along with all of her belongings. That means it’s been a week of him forcing himself to get up every morning, get ready for work, and act like nothing has happened. Faking a smile to his coworkers who never actually care enough to know the truth in his life.

Every night he comes home is the same.

Yeosang walks through his front door, reeling in the eerie silence of his apartment that once used to be full of his fiancée’s laughter and whatever silly reality show she found this week. His hunched-over shadow casts on the floor of his entry-way, his back illuminated from the meager hallway lighting. A sigh escapes his lips each and every night. The ring—his fiancée’s ring—still sits on top of the note on the kitchen counter. He doesn’t dare to move it. It’s a sick attempt to trick his brain into believing that she’ll come back at any second, as if all of this was one big fucked-up nightmare. One Yeosang knows his own brain could never fathom on its own.

The familiar trudge to his lonesome bedroom never becomes easier. If anything, his footsteps sink further and further into the hardwood floor with each shuffle. Surely there’s a worn out path by now, one that merely appears as a connected trail rather than individual footprints. He stills before his darkened bedroom, hesitating to flip the light switch inside the room. His heart hammers in his chest every night, hoping that maybe tonight will be the night. The night his fiancée is actually just taking a nap in their bed, and shut every light off to conserve electricity—to shave a few dollars off the monthly bill.

That’s never what happens, though.

Every night Yeosang sees the same bedding that he couldn’t bring himself to make earlier in the morning, because what’s the point. It’s only him that’s going to see it, now.

There has to be a point where he stops lying to himself.

Where he finally accepts that she moved on, and no longer sees a life with Yeosang in it.

It’s been a week and he doesn’t think enough time will ever pass.

The routine is broken tonight.

Every other night has been spent in silence, not even being able to turn on the TV in his living room. He hardly used it before, anyway. It was his fiancée that insisted on purchasing such a high-end piece of technology. Growing up, Yeosang never really watched television, but it was a staple in his fiancées' childhood. Another thing to add to the list of differences that divided them into two separate identities. So he let her buy the TV, even if he hardly used it.

Tonight, it’s not the television that breaks the routine. It would never be that.

Instead, it’s his phone ringing from the depths of his somewhat-wrinkled slacks. Fear pangs deep within his heart. Could it be…?

A chill travels down his spine as the ringtone continues. Shakily, his hand travels into his pocket to retrieve the device causing the commotion in his otherwise silent apartment.

The screen displays the contact name Yunho when he holds the device in the sweaty and shaky grip of his hand. Yeosang sighs, his nerves refusing to relax though. Reluctantly, he swipes his thumb across the screen to answer the phone call.

“Hello?”

“Yeosang! I meant to call you earlier but—”

Yeosang can hardly register the words coming from his friend’s voice, and he feels terrible for not paying attention, but this isn’t who he was hoping to hear from. It’s only when he realizes Yunho stopped speaking consistently does he finally zone back in.

“Yeosang? Are you there?”

“Oh—Y-yeah, sorry, Yunho. What were you saying?” Yeosang can’t even attempt to hide the disappointment in his voice. While his voice typically doesn’t have much of a variance to it, anyone who is used to his usual cadence would be able to pick up on the sudden mood-shift.

“Is everything okay, Yeosang? Are you still at work? I can call back—”

He looks around his apartment and sighs.

“No, I’m home.”

Home.

This place is no longer a home. But what else would he call it?

“O-Oh… It sounds so quiet, I thought you might have been at the office, still.” Yeosang’s breath hitches at his friend’s comment. “Where’s—”

“She’s not home right now.” Yeosang cuts Yunho off before he can impede any further.

This is quickly becoming a more intimate and revealing conversation and the sweat beading at Yeosang’s back is more than enough of a sign to signify his stress over it. The last thing he wanted to do was bring reality into this situation. He’s avoided mentioning to anyone over his fiancée leaving, abandoning him. Including those he calls his best friends. It’s not right, but he doesn’t know how else to handle it. If he informs anyone, it all becomes too real.

“Oh, she’s not?” Yunho sounds confused.

It’s not that Yeosang and his fiancée were a velcro-like couple, but it was rare that they weren’t together a majority of the time. They were kind of like a package deal, but not in a toxic way. At least that’s what Yeosang believed, up until a week ago.

There’s a beat of silence before Yunho speaks up again. “Are you sure everything is okay, Yeosang?”

Now’s his chance. To finally admit the harrowing truth to his best friend. But the words are stuck somewhere between his brain and his vocal chords, getting lost in the very straight-forward route. It should be easy. He’s not one to hide his emotions from his friends, but something like this is different. There’s a mix of embarrassment, resentment, and denial brewing within him and he wouldn’t even know where to begin to address it.

“She’s—” He starts, voice weaker than it’s ever sounded.

This entire time, Yeosang held back his tears, save for the first night. The first time he read the letter between the ring and his kitchen countertop. After that, he refused to shed another tear. In his mind, there was no point because she would eventually come back. They had been together for six, almost seven years at that point. It didn’t make sense for his fiancée to up and leave, so he didn’t see a point in crying over it.

Until now.

“She left me…” Yeosang crumbles.

His knees gave way and the tears flowed freely from his ducts. The phone still clutched strongly in his grip, slowly collecting the loose tears as they trail the unfamiliar path down his cheek. A gut wrenching sob roars from his chest, reverberating off his ribs and clawing at his vocal chords on the way out. The hardwood flooring is melting beneath him despite being structurally sound just a moment ago. Any sensation he had in his appendages is slowly fading as he comes to terms with the brutal reality of the situation. The sound of Yunho’s voice is drowned out by the rasping of his own sobs, filling the silent apartment and echoing off the walls with nowhere else to go.

Yeosang doesn’t even know how long he’s curled in on himself, a crumpled pile of a human on his living room floor. It might have been minutes, hours, or even days. He has no idea. But when he finally comes to, the roaring sob being reduced to a hiccuping weep, he realizes his phone fell to the floor beside him, and his screen still shows Yunho’s contact on call. Maybe a couple seconds, or a couple minutes later, Yeosang is able to hear the familiar beeping of his front door, signifying the correct passcode being entered and allowing someone from outside to come within the comfort of his walls. Looking up through soaking wet lashes, he watches as someone makes their way through the doorway, pausing for a moment once they’re fully inside and the door shut behind them.

“Yeosang!” The person’s voice calls out.

The figure rushes and collapses alongside Yeosang on the floor, hands immediately finding themselves on him to help support him. The hands guide Yeosang into a bone-crushing hug and he can feel himself melt into the touch, more tears coaxing their release in the process. He never wanted to cry, but between admitting the truth, and feeling the hands soothe at the vast expanse of his back, Yeosang can’t prevent them from spilling anymore.

“Shh, it’s okay…” The voice, which he now recognizes as Yunho’s, says, barely above a whisper. “Just let it all out, Yeosang.”

So he does.

Yeosang sits there for another couple of minutes, hours, or maybe even days, huddled in the warm embrace of his best friend, and sobs his heart out. By the end of it, when his roaring sob is now reduced to barely a hiccup at this point, he can feel the gnawing pain spreading across his dome, and the hoarseness in his throat. It’s been a while since he had let his emotions overcome him this severely. Honestly, he doesn’t even know if he’s cried this hard ever.

“You okay now?” Yunho asks, his hand still rubbing soothing circles into Yeosang’s shoulder blades. Surely his hand must be numb by now.

“I’m sorry…” Yeosang mutters, his voice weakened from the abuse his vocal chords endured during the hurricane of his sobs. Yunho doesn’t say anything and only tightens his grasp against Yeosang’s suddenly weak and frail frame. Even though Yunho would normally tower over him on any regular day, Yeosang feels extra small compared to his friend right now.

At some point, Yunho had maneuvered them onto the couch and off of the painful, hardwood floor. Although, he hadn’t noticed the difference between the plush couch cushions and the painfully hard hardwood flooring; his senses still numbed.

It’s silent for another moment or so. Yunho not wanting to force Yeosang to speak, and Yeosang not knowing where to start. This is embarrassing, he thinks. None of this was supposed to happen. At least not this way. He was eventually going to tell his friends, there was no way he could go the rest of his life without admitting the truth. The thought of him going through the wedding planning only for him to be alone at the altar made him giggle internally though, as fucked up as that sounds.

“She left a week ago.” Yeosang finally admits, sniffling and hiccuping out the last few tears that remain.

He feels Yunho’s gentle movements stutter for hardly a second before resuming once more. Normally, the two of them, or any of their friends, are not this affectionate, but Yeosang has quickly learned this is a special situation. Their friend group would always joke that Yunho is like their girlfriend, but Yeosang never quite understood. Not until tonight. Not until the other man was comforting him on his couch when he was probably busy with other things going on in his life.

When he eventually finds the words, unwillingly to come up right away, Yunho listens with all of him. His ears, his heart, his soul. There isn’t a single part of him that doesn’t absorb every syllable coming from Yeosang’s dehydrated lips. While Yeosang doesn’t know the full story himself, only bits and pieces from the letter his fiancée left, he expels as much as he can, noticing the burden immediately lift itself from his shoulders.

This whole time he feared his friends would laugh, and judge him. Judge him for being an embarrassment. For being pathetic enough for the love of his life to up and walk out of his life as if they weren’t about to promise each other the world..

But Yunho proved him wrong.

And eventually, he told his other friends, Hongjoong, Mingi, and Seonghwa.

None of them reacted the way he feared. They all comforted him with gentle words, soft expressions, and open arms if he wanted them. Not a single one laughed in his face, called him names, or even judged him for failing to keep his fiancée happy. He dreaded this day, of everyone finding out, but now that he’s lived it, Yeosang doesn’t understand why he feared the things he did.

While his friends have been more than understanding, he knew it would only last so long. It would come to a point where his constant moping would damper their otherwise normal moods, even if they said they understood. The truth is, none of them are engaged, or even in serious relationships at the moment. Hongjoong is in a committed relationship with his job, Seonghwa is taking a break from dating after too many bad eggs in a row, and Mingi and Yunho have whatever that weird thing is that’s going on between them to actually focus on other people. Yeosang had been the only one in his friend group to be going down the “correct” path in life, according to his parents at least. Either way, their support is on borrowed time, and when it’s approaching a month since Yeosang’s fiancée left everything behind, he knows he needs to act accordingly to get his life back on track.

The idea had come to him in the form of a dream, ironically.

It’s hard to tell when he actually sleeps. Some nights it seems as though his eyes grow heavier and heavier on their own, meanwhile other nights he’s wide awake, tossing and turning over and over again in his bed. The nights that he’s able to succumb to slumber without medicated interventions, he almost wishes he stayed up instead. Vivid dreams flicker behind his closed eyelids, taunting him with visions of what his life could have been. A happy family. A marriage between him and his fiancée, and a couple of kids, running around in a grand backyard full of toys and equipment for them to play on. Then there’s the nights where it’s the worst day of his life replayed over and over again, adding in all sorts of scenarios to make it as nightmarish as possible. In some, instead of finding the note, he’s greeted by his fiancée herself and she hurls insult after insult at him until Yeosang melts into the worn-out floorboards of their apartment.

After the third night in a row where he had nothing but nightmares, Yeosang weighs between the pros and cons of taking his sleep medication again, trying to fall asleep naturally, or just saying fuck it and stay up all night. It’s not like he has work the next day anyway. As he ponders staying up all night, Yeosang can hear Seonghwa’s motherly tone coaxing him not to, that it wouldn’t be worth it in the long run. And he knows that, but fuck he just wants the nightmares to stop. It would be fine if he forgot them the minute he awoke, but they stay replaying in the confines of his own mind, becoming more and more vivid with each rewind.

Somehow, Yeosang falls asleep on his own accord after finally giving in and turning on the TV in his living room. This entire time, he had refused to even touch the remote. It was still sitting on the coffee table in the same exact spot his fiancée had last placed it over a month ago. But tonight, he finally decided to give in and put something on. Just like the nightmares, he was sick of the silence. It was too loud and allowed his deepest inner thoughts to become amplified. It didn’t matter what he watched, just as long as it was anything. So he ended up watching a documentary about different Greek Mythologies, the first one to pop up when he quite literally searched “documentaries.” He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, but he remembers dreaming something different than what he’s envisioned in his subconscious for the past month.

When he wakes up, feeling actually refreshed for once, Yeosang knows what he needs to do.

It feels almost abrupt to consider going back to his roots, especially after having lived in this lavish city for the past five years, but staying here also feels entirely wrong. While he’s grateful for everything that happened here, including meeting all of his current friends, it also houses every uncherished memory he needs to properly let go of.

After that night he slept soundly for the first time in weeks, he dreamt of returning back home, and starting over from scratch. It had been on his mind for days, but not in the way the nightmares had been. Those were haunting him, and they continue to do so, but this dream had felt like a breakthrough. As if something was calling to him and attempting to guide him in the right direction. Normally, he doesn’t believe in anything spiritual, or of the like, but this felt different. Maybe it had been due to falling asleep listening to stories of Greek Gods, who knows. Either way, it feels right. Yeosang had been considering breaking his lease and moving anyway. There’s no way he would be able to continue living in the apartment he once shared with the love of his life. Though, this dream seemed more fulfilling to him.

A complete restart.

Just like what his own parents did seventeen years ago.

Of course, bringing it up to his friends is the most daunting part. If anything, they had been the reason he was opposed to it himself.

“Have you lost your mind?” Seonghwa furrows his brows after hearing Yeosang explain his plan in full detail.

“Seonghwa, that’s not—” Hongjoong cuts him off and is frantically looking around the table for the other’s help. No one intervenes. Not when Seonghwa is this fired up.

“Yeosang, you can’t just up and leave. You have a life here. Did you forget that?”

It’s late at night, and they’re all gathered at Yeosang’s dining table. Most of his belongings are already packed into boxes, waiting to be either donated or taken along with him. To be honest, after his fiancée had left, the apartment was much more deprived of personality as Yeosang hardly decorated. Everything he loved and cherished was still in his childhood bedroom, thousands of miles away at this point. It made packing easy though. That’s something he’ll be thankful for, he supposes.

“I did have a life here. The only reason I moved to this city was because of—because of her.” Yeosang sighs, unable to even bear the weight of her name on his tongue. “I would have never even thought of coming here if it weren’t for her.”

“So we just don’t matter to you then?” Seonghwa bites, but his hardened expression softens the second the words escape past his lips, realizing the damage it’s about to do. The other three friends share the same shocked expression, but no one dares to speak up still.

Yeosang can only huff out a weak chuckle.

“Yeosang—I, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that, I swear—”

“It’s fine, I just…” He pauses for a minute to organize his thoughts. “It’s not that you guys don’t matter to me… You guys are more important to me than her, at this point, but there’s this feeling in my chest I can’t get rid of. I don’t know what else to do…”

His voice trails off at the end, and if it cracks on the last syllable, no one says anything.

The last time Yeosang cried over this had probably been when Yunho held him warmingly between his arms, but now, the sensation is creeping up on him once more. The unfamiliar feeling of a rock lodged in his esophagus shows up after weeks of it being gone. Any attempts of swallowing past it are pointless when Yeosang makes the mistake of glancing up at his friends who all share the same look of concern. Only then, does the rock come barrelling up in the form of an earth shattering-sob none of the other men have seen from Yeosang in the five years they’ve known him.

Yeosang has never been one to show much of any emotion, really. That’s what everyone described as his charm, but maybe that’s why—nevermind. From a young age, his parents made it a point that boys don’t cry, and he wasn’t punished for it—but definitely scolded. So, he made it a point to try and lock away any emotion that would have resulted in his parents giving him any negative attention. The only issue, when you hold back decades worth of tears, and everything is going to shit, they might just so happen to erupt like a geyser.

It takes a minute in actuality, but for Yeosang, it feels like seconds between his composure being solid like a confident-standing statue and being nothing but a pile of rubble. His shoulders cave inwards, neck snapping under the pressure of his emotions escaping, and his hands rushing desperately to catch his collapsing head. The dining room, once filled with his friends' voices, falls eerily silent as a sob rips through Yeosang’s chest violently, ricocheting off of every surface it reaches.

“I’m so sorry… I’m sorry please—” A pair of arms wrap around his frame in an attempt to bring stability and comfort, but Yeosang continues to cry out, eyes glued shut out of an automatic response his body hasn’t enacted in years.

The pair of arms don’t retract though. If anything, the grasp tightens, in an attempt to ground the very clearly distressed man. Over his own deafening sobs, Yeosang can hear his name being whispered, and someone hushing him, but his eyes are still squeezed shut. His heart is pounding against his chest and the geyser from his own eyes continues to erupt, and the rock in his throat claws its way out. Each sob is more desperate than the last, and Yeosang continues to whimper out weak apologies to no one in particular.

This certainly wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go…

By the time he comes to, hours have passed, and Yeosang finally opens his eyes to the sight of his living room—but sideways. Weakly, his eyelids dryly blink open and close as he makes sense of the change in orientation of the room he’s more than familiar with.

“Oh, he’s awake.”

Yeosang hears a voice come from behind him, but it sounds further away than he actually knows it is. That’s when he realizes his head is pressed against a solid pair of legs, hopefully belonging to one of his friends. At the same time he begins to move his head around, with the intent to see whose lap he’s resting upon, a hand moves the loose bangs away from his forehead. The gentle caress of the fingers against the side of his scalp sends a shiver across the expanse of his skin, but he doesn’t fight it.

Slowly, he tries to either turn on his back, or sit up, but a pair of hands from the other side rush to ease him into the new position. That’s when the dull pounding against Yeosang’s skull grows and his vision weakens for a brief moment as he pulls his own body upright.

“Yeosang, can you hear us?” Another voice calls out, that sounds closer, and he can faintly recognize it as Yunho's. The pressure of his blood flow changing caused him to fasten his eyes shut but Yeosang nods subtly in response. After a minute of needing to adjust, he finally opens them and sees Seonghwa sitting on his knees before him, tear tracks staining his cheeks.

“Seonghwa…” He reaches a hand out aimlessly, but it falls back into his lap.

“Yeosang… I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to make you cry like that…” The eldest man sniffles weakly as the words choke their way out, but Yeosang shakes his head firmly.

When he goes to speak, he finds it more hoarse than expected, each syllable croaking with his pronunciation. “It wasn’t you, I just—I was holding in more than I thought.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hongjoong comes more into view, chewing on his bottom lip worryingly. A pang of guilt rattles through Yeosang’s chest at the sight. If there’s a ranking for least likely to shed tears amongst their friend group, Hongjoong is about the same tier as Yeosang, maybe more likely, though. Yeosang can count on three fingers all the times he’s seen the older man cry since they first met, but who’s to say he’s not a secret cry-baby behind closed doors. Even though he doesn’t have visible tear tracks like Seonghwa, the bloodshot whites of his eyes give away the past.

“You don’t have to, you know?” Mingi, the one whose lap housed Yeosang’s lap a moment ago, speaks up from beside him. “I know you don’t see a point in therapists, but it could help. Talking to a professional about all of this… Maybe when you get to—”

“Yeah, maybe.” Yeosang cuts him off.

It’s not that he doesn’t see a point in therapists, it’s just that he’s never seen a point in them for himself. Nothing has ever gone this wrong in his life before where he justified needing to tell a complete stranger about his worries. Even if they’re "qualified" in that sense. Not when, up until this point, most of Yeosang’s worries were miniscule enough for him to handle on his own. Just like his parents had raised him to do so.

That’s one thing he struggled to adjust to when he moved out here: how open everyone is about their emotions, even the deepest, most darkest ones one should never reveal. When Mingi had first mentioned he had a therapist, Yeosang gave him his condolences and the younger man looked at him as if he had five heads. That’s when Yeosang learned some people don’t see a therapist because they’re sick. As opposed to back in his small town of less than a couple thousand people, you only saw a therapist if something was severely wrong. Even then, it became gossip amongst the church pews the following Sunday, always leaving a nasty feeling in Yeosang’s gut each time the whispers spread to his ears.

Yeosang has issues, sure, but so does everyone. He doesn’t need a therapist.

What happened tonight was an odd occurrence. A situation he hasn’t experienced since he was a young child, much too long ago to be able to vividly remember.

The next few days pass by in a blur.

Restless night after restless night, nerves eating Yeosang alive instead of nightmares.

It’s finally the morning he’s leaving this city, traveling hundreds of miles eastbound into a town much like the one he grew up in, only slightly more rural. As much as he considered going back home for a while, he realized that could never be an option. The minute he would land on the porch of his childhood home, his parents would pull every excuse in the book to blame their son for his current standings.

The thought of even telling them about any of this sends a chill down his spine.

“Are you sure you have everything?” Even though Yeosang spent his last night in the city in Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s apartment, the eldest man of the friend group still worries over him forgetting any belongings.

“You’re the one that packed my bag, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa gives him a look and huffs a breath in defeat. “God forbid a man triple check!”

Yeosang chuckles as the five of them stand on the platform, awaiting for the train that is set to arrive in just a few moments.

It was certainly something to walk out of his apartment for the last time yesterday morning, hearing his footsteps echo amongst the barren walls. When he pictured moving out of there, he imagined it to be due to him and his wife, probably with a baby on her hip, moving into a much bigger space for their growing family. Never did he imagine it to end this way. With Yunho by his side instead of the woman he thought he’d grow old with.

“You’re positive you’re going to the right station?” This time it’s Hongjoong that speaks up. Yunho and Mingi always joked around, for as long as the five of them have been a team, that the two eldest were like mom and dad. Though, Yeosang never understood, deep down. They were much more kind to him than his parents. If anything they were more like aunt and uncle.

“Yes, I double checked with San, too.” He’s about to pull it up on his phone when a train horn sounds in the distance. Everyone’s heads perk up and suddenly it becomes all too real.

Yeosang tries to calm the rapid beating of his heart as he notices the train beginning to approach the station. In the midst of his attempts, a pair of arms are thrown around him, and his feet struggle to keep him standing as a body crashes into him.

“I can’t believe my baby is really leaving us!” Seonghwa cries out, stroking the back of Yeosang’s head as gently as one can. Yeosang reluctantly throws his arms around Seonghwa, awkwardly patting at the older man’s back in comfort.

When he looks around the group for moral support from the sudden attack, they all stare at the two with glassy eyes. Hongjoong has to force himself to stare down at the ground and inhale to keep the tears away. But Mingi and Yunho don’t try to hide it. They’ve always been more in touch with their emotions, especially Yunho. It starts something in Yeosang’s chest seeing his friends react in such a way to his departure.

Is this the right thing to be doing after all?

Leaving the only people he’s known for the entire life he’s spent in this city?

There’s no time to question that, even though it feels like the pebble in his throat is collecting debris once again and growing in size. Not when the train is roaring past them still as it eventually slows to a stop.

Seonghwa reluctantly frees the younger man from his grasp, holding back sniffles and attempting to keep a smile upon his face. The mask only holds up for so long, but it’s as expected.

“You’re gonna do great, kid. I know it.” Hongjoong pulls his lips tight to hold himself back from tears as well, extending a hand to pat at Yeosang's shoulder.

“Thank you, Hongjoong.” He himself still feels the burning sensation in his chest at his friend’s words. When Yeosang turns to Yunho and Mingi, their expressions still read sorrowfully.

“We’re gonna miss you at the office. Pizza Party Friday’s won’t be the same, y’know.” Yunho’s facade is cracking too, his eyes slowly becoming more and more bloodshot as he keeps the tears at bay.

Yeosang chuckles and allows the taller man to pull him into an awkward side-hug.

When he turns to face Mingi, the burning in his chest begins seeping through his skin and even attempting an escape through his thin t-shirt.

There’s a certain relationship between them that Yeosang has always been grateful for, but he could never find an appropriate word to describe. The other man found ways to broaden Yeosang’s small-town, closed-minded beliefs into more liberal ones, even if it took hours long discussions.

Maybe one day he’ll discover a new word to finally define the way Yeosang’s heart is always set aside for the other man. But that’s not right now.

“If you ever need me, call me, okay? It doesn’t matter what time, I’ll answer.” Mingi faces Yeosang, but doesn’t pull the other close. Even though they’re a good distance apart, Yeosang’s heart stammers against his chest wall, leaving him short-breathed for just a moment in time.

“Of course… You’re always up anyway, Mingi.”

It’s an attempt to crack a light-hearted joke in this serious time, something Yeosang has never been great at doing. But it leaves a crooked smile on his friend’s face, so he replicates it as well.

A majority of the other passengers that were standing amongst the friend group have since boarded the train, and the attendants signal its departure in a few moments. Yeosang grabs the bag sitting on the ground near his feet and gives his friends one final farewell smile before turning in the direction of the train car door.

“Text us when you get there!” Seonghwa calls out, his voice cracking at the very end, and Mingi’s laugh roars throughout the barren platform afterwards.

There’s more people on the train than Yeosang expected, but this route has stops closer than his actual destination. Once his bag is in the overhead department, and he’s settled in a seat against the window, he can spot his friends still standing on the platform a couple yards away. They spot him and wave frantically as the train begins to pull away from the station, and the conductor begins announcing the next stop already.

The four men stand proudly as they wave off Yeosang. Yunho standing closer to Mingi than the rest of them, and Seonghwa wiping tears away with one hand.

Soon enough, the train shoots far enough ahead that Yeosang can no longer see them and a pang of loneliness echoes throughout his chest.

The last time he had left everything he knew behind, he had the love of his life with him. Holding his hand every step of the way.

Now…

It’s just him.

The stinging behind his eyes is relentless, but he blinks it away and pulls out his phone. A message sits high up on his notification list, having come in about twenty minutes ago. It’s from San.

After Yeosang dreamt of starting over, he began researching nearby towns he could escape to almost immediately. A few hours away by train, and even by car ride, lays a town even smaller than where he grew up, so secluded from cities that it takes at least half an hour to travel to the nearest grocery store. Even then, it’s not a chain one like out here in the city. It’s one he’s never heard of, which made it all the more perfect.

Somehow, the town still shows up on Google Maps and he discovered the main attraction of the town is an agricultural farm, called Umbrella Farm, that provides all the residents with fresh dairy and produce.

It felt like fate when Yeosang came across the Facebook page and discovered they were looking for a new on-site farm-hand. The position came with a room in the farmhouse, and a rather decent pay for a town like that. Of course, it’s only a fraction of what Yeosang made prior, but considering he won’t have as many bills to pay, he won’t need much money. At least not for now. Besides, the savings he managed to build up over the years, despite all of his recurring student loan payments, should keep him afloat for some time.

Yeosang messaged the Facebook page, and a man named San reached back out to him, and was thrilled to have him work on the farm. Yeosang has some knowledge when it comes to farmwork, mainly in regards to produce, all thanks to the summers he spent with his grandparents, but it’s nothing extensive. San didn’t seem to care about experience, he just needed the hands.

And so that’s how Yeosang managed to score housing and a job all in one go.

Something he knew Seonghwa would be worried about the minute after he cooled down from his initial outburst.

He opens his messages with San and feels the nerves begin to settle deep amongst his guts once more.

San

Hey Yeosang! We finally got your boxes in the mail! They’re safely in your room.

Hope your ride goes smoothly, see you at the station soon!

Yeosang

Thank you, San.

I’ll see you soon.

He locks his phone and places it on his lap, looking out the window next to him.

The estimated time to reach his stop is just short of three hours, but even then it’s around another hour drive to the farm. Thankfully, San was more than willing to pick up Yeosang from the train station, especially since most taxis won’t actually want to take him that far out into the country-land.

Unfortunately, Yeosang didn’t bring much with him to do on the train ride, except for a book he had sitting on his nightstand for far too long that collected more dust than he’d like to admit. It’s either kill time and read through it, or stare out the window as the scenery changes from a city skyline to open fields of grass. Sleep is not an option when every nerve in his being is actively set aflame.

So he settles for finally reading the damn book.

He doesn’t even remember buying it, actually. Maybe it was a gift from years ago. Or maybe it somehow ended up with his belongings. Or maybe—no. Highly unlikely…

It keeps Yeosang entertained for a total of fifteen minutes before, by the Grace of God, his eyelids grow heavy and his head lulls to the side as sleep comes over him peacefully for once.

Roughly half of his ride passes by as his head rises from its position against the cold-feeling glass pane beside him. As his eyes adjust to the bright lighting in the train-car, Yeosang notices there’s far fewer passengers now, just as he predicted. The partially older woman who sat next to him initially is long gone, as well as the passengers that filled the rows in front of him. Yeosang takes advantage of the now free-space and stretches the sleep from his limbs, craning his neck in an attempt to pull at the cramp forming atop his shoulders already.

One look out the window and it reveals open fields of grass, something he hasn’t seen in years. Yeosang can’t help the warm sensation that spreads from his fingertips as he watches the scenery pass by him, glowing under the rays of the afternoon sun. A big sigh escapes through his nostrils, one he hasn’t been aware of holding in.

Hopefully this is just what he needs.

Before he knows it, Yeosang is off the train, standing on the platform of his stop, stopped amongst the small crowd of other passengers rushing through the exits located on either side of the building.

This is it.

Yeosang pulls out his phone again, and reopens the messages with San. The man had texted not too long ago to let Yeosang know he’s at the station, and will be waiting in front of the building to greet him. But, before he makes his exit, he pulls open the group chat between him and the other four men he left behind, letting them know he arrived safely to his stop. Almost immediately, Seonghwa sends a “heart” reaction in response.

Seonghwa

I miss you already ! :(

Please let us know when you’re at the farm !

Yeosang

I miss you too, Seonghwa.

Don’t cry too much.

Mingi

It’s too late for that lol

He cried the whole car ride back

Hongjoong had to hold his hand the whole time

Seonghwa

Hey !

You can’t talk when Yunho kept wiping away your own tears

Yeosang chuckles at the incoming messages, but pockets his phone so he can finally meet San out front as he agreed to.

When he was scrolling through the Facebook page for the farm, Yeosang had seen a few photos of either other employees, or volunteers, but he didn’t actually know what San looked like. Of course, the other man knows what Yeosang looks like, since his profile picture is a relatively recent selfie. Now that he thinks about it, there really isn’t much he knows about San. For instance, how old he is, what he looks like, his background, or that he won’t murder Yeosang as soon as he gets into his car.

He’s spent too much time around Seonghwa, as never has he concerned himself with thoughts like this before. San is probably a lovely person, with a lovely girlfriend or even wife, maybe he has some kids. Yeosang supposes he’ll learn all about that on the hour-long car-ride back to the actual farm.

Before he makes it even three steps out of the train station building, a man with a thicker-sounding accent calls out his name.

“Yeosang?”

Upon turning towards the direction of the voice, Yeosang is caught immediately off guard.

All the images he had of San in his mind are blown away in the same breeze that threads through Yeosang’s lengthy bangs.

A man, similar in height to Yeosang, stands with shoulders broader than Mingi’s. Instead of a rugged looking appearance, San has soft yet chiseled features that mesh together flawlessly. Unlike any other farmer Yeosang has ever met, San’s skin shows no signs of blemishes, or even a hard day at work. As well as his hair, that is somewhat buzzed on the sides, and remains trimmed neatly on top, keeping out of his face entirely. There’s no evidence of stubble or anything, either. Is this really the man that works on a farm? Or did San send someone else and not tell him for some reason?

Still processing the man’s appearance, Yeosang almost forgets to respond. “That’s me. And I’m guessing you’re San?”

San approaches Yeosang, a hand stretched outwards for a handshake. “Ah, right, I didn’t send you a photo of myself. Yes, I’m San.”

Even though he’s further out into the country, Yeosang is now bewildered by just how thick-sounding San’s accent is compared to anyone he’s ever met in the city. Does everyone sound like this? Or maybe he’s from further South and relocated up North? Yeosang himself knows he has an accent, but from growing up on the western coast, it’s nowhere near the levels of San’s.

“Here! I’ll take your bag.” San reaches out to grab Yeosang’s duffle bag, which he’s able to snag successfully due to Yeosang still being caught off guard. “I’m parked not too far from here.”

Yeosang looks out into the small parking lot before him and there’s maybe five, or six cars parked amongst the fifteen total spots there are to choose from. San leads them to a slightly-aged pick up truck parked in one of the first spots. The exterior shows some wear-and-tear, as if it’s lived a life on nothing but farm-roads, but it still shines brighter than his own father’s pick-up truck back home.

“Sorry if she looks a bit muddy. I got her cleaned up the other day, but these back-roads aren't kind, y’know?” San opens up the door to the backseat and places Yeosang’s duffle bag on the freshly detailed seat. “Hop in! We’ve got quite the ride back.”

The first ten minutes are filled with the opposite of silence. Yeosang learns rather quickly that either San is naturally a talker, or doesn’t meet new people often and is rather thrilled to have a new set of ears. The man doesn’t talk fast, but sometimes his words slur together creating sounds Yeosang isn’t accustomed to after spending years in the city. Sure, he’s met people from all over while living there, but it was very rare for him to meet another with an accent similar to San’s.

Yeosang learns that he’s originally from down South, just as he assumed, but moved up North with his business-partner who inherited a piece of land from a family member that passed away a couple years ago. The farm had been around for decades, but the business-partner, Wooyoung, had taken over around the time Yeosang started his sophomore year of college. Which, as it turns out, the three of them are all the same age, but Yeosang was born a month before San, and a couple before Wooyoung. The thought of running a farm at the same age Yeosang was still struggling to adjust to city-life gave him a sense of whiplash, but perhaps that’s something they already knew how to do.

“Wooyoung was gonna come with me, but something came up so he had to stay back and help Jongho.” San explains as they’re driving down a poorly-paved road with only a single dotted-yellow line separating the two sides of the road. “Jongho is one of my cousins, he’s actually from the city too, so you two should have something in common!”

“Ah, I’m not really from the city. I grew up in rural Washington, actually. I only came out this way for school.” Yeosang finds it easy to admit details like this about himself, but anything more and it might meet some resistance. He’s sure over time he’ll have to share his true story with San, but for the first day, the less the better.

“Well,” San’s eyes are focused on the long expanse of road in front of them, the never ending road blending in where the blue sky meets the winding hills. “I’m sure you guys will still find some common ground.”

San informs Yeosang just about what kind of duties to expect to complete on the actual farm, all tasks that sound similar to what he helped his grandparents with as a young child. Though, it’s easily been a good ten or eleven years since the last time he visited his grandparents for the summer. Who knows how efficient he’ll actually end up being.

Fortunately, Yeosang is able to stay awake for the ride to the farm, although San had hardly a second-long break from talking, besides for breathing. As much as he spoke, he mainly shared information regarding himself, Wooyoung, Jongho, and any of the other employees that work on the farm. Not too many questions were asked about Yeosang, yet. But he supposes they have all the time in the world to find out those answers eventually.

As they’re pulling up to the farm, Yeosang had entirely forgotten about how nervous he was about this whole ordeal. About leaving the life he grew somewhat comfortable with, along with all of his best friends and—that’s it.

There’s a long driveway leading from the main-road all the way up to where the farmhouse is and Yeosang is in awe at what appears just outside the rolled-up window next to him. It has to easily be a couple acres of land, judging by how many crops they pass on the minute long drive up to the farmhouse. On the other side, looking across San and out through the driver’s side window, Yeosang notices more shed and animal houses than crops, presumably for storage of farm equipment, the dairy cows and poultry.

“I won’t have you do any work today, let you get all settled in and check out the farm. I know it looks like a lot, but you’ll learn your way around in no time.” San parks the car and turns to face Yeosang for the first time since back at the train station.

Now that they’re closer in distance, Yeosang truly notices how young San looks compared to himself. Even though they’re the same age, he looks as if he could still be in his teens, not in his early twenties. It’s amazing this man works on a farm, even though he tends to handle more of the business aspect and Wooyoung is more hands-on.

As they exit the pick-up truck and approach the extensive, quaint farmhouse, Yeosang notices a man sitting in a rocking chair on the wrap-around porch that he hadn’t noticed earlier in the truck. The man, dressed more casually than San, and sporting a few dirt stains on his apparel from a long day of hardwork, gets up from the rocking chair and meets the pair halfway in front of the steps.

“You must be Yeosang!” The man greets him, but does not extend an arm out for a handshake. “I’m Wooyoung. I’d shake your hand, but I was out in the fields all day, and you look rather clean.”

Wooyoung, who Yeosang also can’t help but notice how sharp the young man’s features are, maybe even more so than San’s, stands with his hands on his hips. He’s certainly not as broad as San, but he’s definitely muscular. Yeosang can tell by the way his almost skin-tight t-shirt clings to his body and stretches around his leaner biceps. Of course Yeosang works out as well, but suddenly being between these two men who seem as though they could lift him no problem, leaves him worrying about his future work load.

“I’ll show you your room, let you get settled before supper. Marissa, one of the chefs, is on duty tonight and boy does she cook up a mean brisket.” San leads them up the steps to the porch and through the front door of the farmhouse, Wooyoung trailing in behind them.

Yeosang has seen plenty of farms in his life, but this is nothing like the ones he’s seen back home. The exterior appears more aged, signifying its history, but the interior has obviously been renovated over the years to keep up with more modern trends. As of now, it’s clear it hasn’t been renovated since the early 2000s, but isn’t showing any signs that it needs to be upgraded. There’s a large entry way with an immediate double-wide staircase leading upstairs, and to the side, a hallway that leads presumably to the living area and kitchen.

“Right now, it’s just me, Wooyoung, and Jongho that live in the farmhouse. We had someone else, but he moved out not too long ago. You’ll be taking his old room.” San explains as they climb the staircase and traverse down a short hallway that ends with a bedroom on each side. Right before the two bedrooms is a full-sized bathroom. “The one on the right is Jongho’s, and the one on the left is all yours, Mr. Kang.”

When Yeosang enters the room, he doesn’t expect much. And there really isn’t much. Just the basic necessities, similar to how his room in his apartment had been. Standing from the doorway, the rectangular room has a double-sized bed against the center of the shorter wall perpendicular to them, and rustic nightstands on either side. Opposite of the bed is a well-loved dresser, and next to it, a work out desk with a rather cheap-appearing rolling desk chair. Stacked in front of the bed are the few boxes Yeosang had mailed out prior to his arrival. There isn’t much in them besides bedding, clothes, and personal belongings that managed to survive all four years of college and then the move into his previous apartment.

San sets the duffle bag on top of the bare mattress and turns to face Yeosang. “I’m sure you had a long day of traveling, so we’ll let you be for now. We’ll be downstairs, straight towards the back if you need anythin, ‘kay?”

They make their leave and Yeosang releases a deep breath once the door clicks shut against the frame. Silence fills the room and once again Yeosang is unsure if this is actually what he should be doing. But it’s too late now. There’s no turning back.

So he begins to unpack. But first, he pulls out his phone to text the group chat between his friends about his safe arrival to the farm. As much as he would love to talk with them more in depth right now, San was right about having a long day of traveling, so the sooner he can unpack and get settled, the better.

It doesn’t take long, maybe about an hour and a half. Even when he packed all of these boxes initially it didn’t take much time either. After his fiancée left, there really wasn’t much left in the apartment besides useless knick-knacks she had bought Yeosang over the years, and all of the larger pieces of furniture. So the three medium-sized boxes Yeosang had mailed to this farmhouse begin to fill the small bedroom. As if it’s a miniature version of his previous apartment. The only difference being there’s no one to share it with this time.

When all of his bedding is made, all of his clothes folded and hung in their appropriate spots, and the boxes successfully deconstructed, Yeosang’s stomach growls for the first time all day. Now that he realizes, the last time he properly ate was last night. Or maybe yesterday afternoon? Sure, he had a small bite of an omelet Seonghwa cooked up this morning, but it wasn’t more than a few bites before the pebble in Yeosang’s throat became impossible to swallow past, and the acid in his stomach didn’t approve of the incoming contents.

It shouldn’t be scary to leave the bedroom Yeosang’s grown acquainted with in the past few hours, but as a hand twists and pulls on the doorknob, he worries about what might lie further into the farmhouse.

Yeosang has never been the best at getting to know people, especially when he’s left to fend for himself. A majority of the friendships in his life have been due to other people making the first move, and Yeosang growing comfortable with their presence. Even when it came to his current friend group, they all initiated contact with Yeosang first. Even with his fiancée, she reached out to him first all those years ago, and now—well it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?

Just as San said, him and Wooyoung were downstairs and straight back, in what looked to be a sunroom. Instead of four solid walls, floor-to-ceiling glass windows take place, allowing every single ounce of sunlight to shine inside. There’s a few houseplants scattered among the edges of the room, but primarily there’s a large plush couch in the center, surrounded by other single-seated patio-style chairs and a few ottomans. San is sitting on one end of the couch, body leaning against the comically large armrest, while Wooyoung’s body is sprawled across the remainder of the furniture, his head using San’s thigh as a pillow. San is engrossed in a novel of some sort meanwhile it appears Wooyoung might have fallen asleep in the time it took for Yeosang to traverse back downstairs.

It takes San a minute to notice Yeosang standing before him, who is merely taking in the appearance of the cozy sunroom. “Oh, you’re done already? That didn’t take long.”

He places a feather in between the pages he’s currently on and closes the book, placing it on one of the end tables between the couch and one of the chairs. It’s only then does the man peer downwards into his lap and notice Wooyoung caught up in a light slumber.

“Young-ah, wake up. Yeosang came back down.” San speaks more gently, and in a language Yeosang himself hasn’t spoken in years.

It had taken him this long to realize San is a Korean name, much like his own and all of his other friends. If only he knew the man’s surname maybe he would have made the connection sooner. But hearing Yeosang’s native language being spoken by someone other than his parents caught him beyond offguard. Sure, his friends knew some Korean, but they were born here and primarily speak in English, as opposed to Yeosang who only learned it when he was in first grade.

“Are you Korean?” Yeosang finds himself asking out of curiosity and when San perks up, nodding in response he realizes how foolish he had been. “Ah, I didn’t realize. I’m Korean too.”

“I figured as much with the last name Kang! I should have properly introduced myself at the station. I’m San Choi, born and raised in Namhae.” San smiles widely, his eyes turning into crescents in the process. “Wooyoung and my cousin, Jongho, were born here, but they speak Korean too. Whatever more’s comfortable for you.”

Now that Yeosang thinks about it, he really doesn’t know what to consider his primary language. Sure, until he was about six or seven, he only read, wrote, and spoke in Korean. But once him and his family moved here, he had been forced to assimilate and pick up English as a majority of the kids in his class couldn’t understand him otherwise. The only time he speaks Korean nowadays is when he calls his parents, but even then it’s been quite some time. Yeosang, who used to be a native speaker, begins to question that aspect now as he’s brought face-first with it.

“Ah, either is fine. It doesn’t matter to me.” Yeosang answers in English.

San nods and nudges at Wooyoung more, smiling as the smaller man begins to stir awake. It’s endearing, how San watches his friend gently come back to consciousness. It almost reminds Yeosang of how Yunho would be if he ever fell asleep during a group hangout.

Eventually Wooyoung fully opens his eyes and groans from the golden rays of the setting sun beaming into the sunroom. “Ugh, you shouldn’t have let me fall asleep…”

“You look so peaceful sleeping, I couldn’t just wake you up for no reason.” San speaks to Wooyoung in Korean, and his thick southern accent almost dissipates entirely in the other language. Sounding almost like an entirely different person if anything.

“So then why wake me? Let me—” Wooyoung sits up and notices Yeosang standing in the middle of the room. “Oh, Yeosang! You’re all unpacked?”

“Sorry, he gets grumpy when I wake him from a nap, but he’ll be okay.” San pats Wooyoung on the shoulder who’s still taking a minute to fully wake up. “Marissa should be done cooking, if you’re up for some supper. Then I can take you on a tour of the farm right quick.”

Yeosang is led back into the farmhouse but they stand idle for a moment while San contemplates. He peeks into the kitchen on their right, noticing the petite woman standing in front of the stove still stirring the contents of a pot. “What’s the e.t.a. on supper, Marissa?”

The woman, who Yeosang now learns is Marissa, one of the chefs, turns her attention to the entrance where San hangs onto the doorframe. “Should be a couple more minutes! Is Jongho joining you guys?”

San shakes his head with a smidge of disappointment attached. “Nah, not tonight. He's already left for the city again. But, we’ll have Yeosang, our new farmhand, joining us!”

“Ah, that’s right. He moved in today right? Isn’t he a cityboy like Jongho?” Yeosang hears Marissa ask from across the way and a sensation rises from his chest from the adjective she used to describe him. He’s not a “cityboy.” Never was, never will be.

“Something like that,” San turns around and nods his head in the direction of the kitchen for Yeosang to introduce himself.

Reluctantly, Yeosang peeks his head in the kitchen and receives a better view of the layout, as well as the chef working. The kitchen reads as though it hasn’t been renovated too much over the years, with the exception of more modern appliances. Meanwhile, the chef, who cannot be much taller than where Yeosang’s chest sits, navigates around the kitchen as though it's like her own home. When she notices Yeosang enter, quickly she wipes her hands on a dishrag hanging from the handle of the oven door.

“Hi, I’m Yeosang Kang. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extends an arm at the same time as Marissa, their hands meeting in a firmer handshake than Yeosang extended.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Yeosang.” She offers a closed-lip smile before retracting her hand. “I’m sure San already told you, but I’m Marissa, one of the chefs. I work a couple days a week, meanwhile the other chef, Antoine, works the other days.”

Even though Marissa is on the shorter side, her personality definitely makes up for it. Her confidence seeps through in an instant and Yeosang is impressed by how well she’s handling the kitchen all on her own. It oddly reminds him of his older sister when she would help their mother during the holidays.

Across the kitchen is the dining room, where San invites the other two men trailing him to take a seat. There’s not much to the dining room, although Yeosang notices a handful of picture frames amongst the walls, containing pictures of what appears to be different areas of the farm. They all seem more recent rather than outdated and aged photos. Unlike his previous apartment, the dining table here is more worn, as if it’s been used for years past its prime. The same goes for the chairs; cushions worn and chips of wood missing from the backs and legs.

Everything is all still so new that Yeosang is struggling to determine whether this is really what he wants. After living in a bustling city for the past five years, the calming silence of the vast prairie hills leave a deafening ringing in his ears. It echoes against his skull until Wooyoung clears his throat.

“So, Yeosang,” He’s sitting in a seat beside San, while Yeosang sits on the opposite side. “What made you come all the way out here?”

An accidental sigh escapes his lips.

There isn’t any way to avoid this, right? He knew it would be brought up eventually, but every imaginary conversation Yeosang tried to prepare himself for vanished without a trace.

“Oh, it’s just… You know… I wanted a change, I guess?”

The two men opposite of him stare as they anticipate more to the answer, but when they realize Yeosang is done speaking, San nods his head and Wooyoung looks away sheepishly.

“Well, this is certainly a change from the city, I’ll tell you that.”

Dinner is finally served not too much later, and Yeosang unexpectedly clears his entire plate. Even though there’s still the pebble in his throat, each bite goes down with ease and it’s nothing like how his breakfast was. Even though it’s his first time eating a home cooked meal like this in such a long time, it brings a wave of familiarity over Yeosang that he can’t quite place.

When him and his fiancée first moved in together, she would try to cook meals often, but once she became more busy with work, it went from every night to maybe once or twice a week. Not that Yeosang was complaining, because none of that was important to him anyway. Having a wife who cooked dinner every night was never on his checklist, unlike most men he’s interacted with.

Regardless, this is the best home cooked meal Yeosang has eaten since he moved out of his parents’ house.

Afterwards, Yeosang offers to help with dishes, but Marissa declines. She says something about how it’s kind of relaxing after sweating over a hot stove for that long. Yeosang doesn’t quite understand, but he doesn’t push and leaves it at that.

The sun is just near setting, still about an hour left until it completely sets beneath the horizon. San and Wooyoung give Yeosang a tour around the farm just like they promised. Instead of walking around via foot like Yeosang expected, San leads them to a small garage attached to the farmhouse where a golf-cart is housed to make traversing the land more efficient.

Somehow the land is even more gorgeous at this time of day. The golden hour, as people from the city would refer to it, usually makes nature even more attractive and is a common time to capture the best shots.

All of the employees have since gone home for the day, and the gates that are open for the public remain closed as well. So it’s just the three of them on the premises since Marissa has gone home as well after completing her duties.

“It seems like a lot, but don’t fret, we have more than enough employees to handle all these crops.” San begins to explain as they drive down the dirt roads between fields, pointing out which crop is which in case Yeosang doesn’t know. “Each team does something different each day. That way y’all don’t get too fatigued pulling the same crop every day.”

Yeosang hums in response, staring out as they pass by a miniscule corn field.

“Tomorrow will be your first day, bright and early, so make sure to get lots of rest. Wooyoung does all the dirty digging while I handle most of the business aspect, so he’ll show you what to do in the morning. Got it?” The golf cart is only traveling maybe ten miles-per-hour, so San takes a second to turn his head towards Yeosang in the back seat.

“That sounds good to me. Do you perhaps have a schedule of what team I’ll be working on, and what we’re doing each day?” Yeosang asks, cringing from how proper it sounds compared to the two country-men’s casual talk.

“Wow,” Wooyoung speaks up for the first time since they departed the farmhouse. “You picked a good one, Sannie. The last guy never asked questions like that!”

What Yeosang thought was a basic question, apparently turns out to be a good sign in Wooyoung’s book. If anything, Yeosang likes to be as prepared as possible, and knowing what he’s expected to do each day would lighten his stress. Perhaps that’s a weird quirk of his, to be overprepared, or maybe the previous employee did not care as much? Who knows.

The ride around the farm only lasts another ten minutes and Yeosang doesn’t feel as overwhelmed as he expected. Of course, they harvest dozens of different crops each season, and the workload drastically cuts back during the winter, but it shouldn’t be too much for Yeosang to handle. As they pull up to the farmhouse again, San sends Yeosang off to enjoy the rest of his night on his own, promising to get back to him with a schedule once he finds it in his office.

“Did San actually show you around the farmhouse?” Wooyoung asks once San is the first to head inside. Yeosang shakes his head no, and the other man sighs disappointedly. “I’ll show you around then. Sometimes he has so much going on up there that he ends up forgetting something.”

Yeosang can only imagine how much work it is to run a farm, so he understands how busy San must be. Even though Yeosang worked in something similar before coming here, running an entire business for a whole town seems even out of his skillset, so mentally he applauds San for being able to do so.

“And here is the bathroom. Only downside of living in a house as old as dirt; there’s only one full bath, so try not to hog it too long, ‘kay?” The house-tour concludes in front of the bathroom just off to the side of the staircase. “Me and Sannie have a half bath in our room, but there’s no shower, so seriously, no hogging it, mister.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll make sure.”

Once Wooyoung trails off across the hall to what Yeosang now knows is his and San’s bedroom, he heads back into his own room in the opposite direction to grab his set of towels he brought from home.

Just as he promised, Yeosang takes no longer than fifteen minutes in the bathroom, even though he’s sure everyone has washed away their days already. The last thing he wants is to get on Wooyoung’s bad side this early on. Although, Yeosang is only ninety-percent sure the younger man was joking in that regard, but it’s hard to tell with the monotony of his tone.

There’s something odd about the two country-men that Yeosang can’t quite place. From how they both act around one another, nothing seems too out of place, until Yeosang learned they share a bedroom that can’t be too much bigger than the one he’s currently residing in. It could be possible to fit two beds, but in that case, why not just use the room they offered up to Yeosang? He doesn’t stress it too much because he’s not about to offer them to displace him for the sake of convenience. Not when he quite literally has nowhere else to go.

It’s when Yeosang is about to lay down for the night, the time on his phone showing just past nine in the evening, when the letter and small velvet box on his nightstand catch his attention. He entirely forgot about them being in his jacket pocket all day until he shed his clothes before showering. He could have kept them in his duffel bag, but Yeosang would rather set himself aflame then allow them to get crushed by whatever other contents are within.

Is it silly to still hold on to this? When it’s already been well over a month, and Yeosang has now removed himself from that area? Maybe.

The truth is, Yeosang doesn’t even know how he feels anymore.

If she ever came back, would he take her back as though nothing even happened? Maybe.

Even though he’s had to force himself to adjust to a life without her, she was a constant in his life for roughly a decade, possibly even longer. They’ve known one another since middle school, and finally gathered the courage to start dating during high school. But even then, it wasn’t Yeosang’s idea. Honestly, he never even realized he had feelings for her until they went on a few dates and realized how much he enjoyed the company.

To say his parents were upset he brought home a fair-skinned girl, with bleach-blonde hair and crystal blue eyes was an understatement. His mother wallowed for ages about how she always wanted grandchildren, but ones that would keep their bloodline strong. Whatever that means. But for once, his father kept his mouth quiet and allowed all the complaining to sound from his wife. Just as long as you keep your grades up, Yeosang remembers him saying.

It’s been a while since he last properly spoke to them, maybe a good couple of months. Of course, his mother texts often, asking how everything is going, and that he needs to come home soon, but he deflects every time. Saying something about how he has to work extra, or his fiancée is picking up extra hours. But now that excuse won’t work so much anymore.

They also don’t know she’s not in his life anymore.

Maybe his mother would be thrilled, considering she never actually liked Yeosang’s fiancée, even if she never directly admitted it. On the other hand, he can only imagine how she’ll wallow about what her son did wrong.

He doesn’t need her to do that when he’s still doing it to himself on a daily basis.

What happened that caused her to leave?

What did Yeosang do wrong?

That’s all he wants to know at this point.

Yeosang’s fingertips are gripping at the letter as he struggles to swallow past the eagerly growing pebble in his throat.

Then there’s a knock on his wide-open door and San is standing in the doorframe, a paper in his own hands as well. “Sorry for taking so long, but I finally found the schedule for this month—oh. Is everything alright, Yeosang?”

He blinks away the tears that are stinging behind his eyelids and shoves the paper into one of the nightstand drawers next to where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Only then does he realize the small velvet box containing his fiancée’s ring is still sitting atop and he rushes to throw it in the drawer as well. But it doesn’t matter, because San has already seen it. And the way Yeosang is getting worked up over a piece of paper.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I didn’t hear you coming. Um, thank you.” He gets up and takes a hold of the paper from San, pretending to scan over it.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” San says awkwardly, and Yeosang notices it but refuses to acknowledge anything about the current situation. It’s too early for him to trauma-dump on the man who so graciously took him in for this position despite a lack of experience. “Well, Wooyoung and I are going to bed. If you ever need anything, we’re right down the hall, ‘kay?”

Yeosang nods, his eyes still fixated on the schedule in his hands.

“Goodnight, Yeosang. Seeya in the morning.”

He finally looks up and tries his best to ignore the sympathetic look on San’s face. “Goodnight, San.”

If a few tears slip down Yeosang’s cheeks while he lays on his back staring up at the ceiling, then it’s no big deal. As long as the pebble in his throat doesn’t grow any larger, then everything will be fine.

Everything will be fine.

Chapter Text

It’s already fall.

Summer has come and gone, apples being replaced by pumpkins.

Visitors of the farm sporting full-length overalls instead of shorts. Young children gather by the dozen to paint silly expressions on the harvested pumpkins, instead of plucking apples right from the branches they grow on.

It’s rather rewarding, actually. For Yeosang to see all of his hard work be enjoyed by the families that visit everyday.

Of course, it tugs on his heartstrings a tad more than he’ll ever admit. Having to see what should have been his future. Watching the young couples pick out a pumpkin for one another, a smile plastered upon their faces throughout. Or hearing the giggles from the young children as their mother and or father take them on a hayride through the farm grounds. Or even when the older married couples, the ones who have brought their grandchildren out for the weekend, walk hand-in-hand down memory lane.

It’s all a bit much, but Yeosang turns his head the other way each time.

There hasn’t been an instance since the first night, especially after he made sure to bury the letter and small velvet box in the very back of his nightstand drawer. Though, the apprehension from San has never left his mind. And if the other man seemed to walk on egg-shells around Yeosang for a few days afterwards, Yeosang ignored it.

Though nothing lasts forever.

The pebble in his throat hasn’t grown in size. If anything, it’s reduced to a grain of gravel. Spending his days in the last few weeks of the scorching summer sun with Wooyoung have helped. Significantly. Slowly his mind has become less focused on the heaviness still weighing down his heart.

That is, until.

Even though Yeosang is worked deep to his bones everyday, and all of his friends back in the city have their own busy lives, they’ve made a consistent effort to keep a steady flow of almost daily updates for Yeosang.

Some updates managed to slip through the crack though, and it’s rather alright. For the most part.

It’s finally the end of his work day, and sweat is dripping from his hairline as always, even if the forecast today was nowhere near as brutal as his first day of work.

“You did great today, Sang-ah.” Wooyoung pants as he sits besides his roommate, applying a cold water bottle to the back of his neck. The pair are sitting underneath a shaded tree outside of the section they just finished up, watching as one of the employees hauls their workload away to a different part of the farm for processing.

He’s definitely grown more comfortable with Wooyoung than he imagined previously. In the beginning, all communication had been with San, and Wooyoung seemed almost impossible to approach. Once they started working together in the fields though, it’s as if Wooyoung turned into an entirely different person. As if each time a hand dug into the earth and ripped out a ripe vegetable, Wooyoung found it easier to share a piece of his soul with Yeosang.

“You always say that.” Yeosang himself is just as out-of-breath as he leans back on the palms of his dirt-covered hands. At first he wore the gloves Wooyoung had brought him, but ultimately it was deemed easier to rip at the roots with his bare hands. A little dirt under his nails and cuticles never hurt. It’s not like he needed them to appear neat anymore.

A lengthy, skin-burning shower washes away the dirt no problem.

With his stomach full from dinner, and his scalp scrubbed clean of any dirt or debris collected from outside, Yeosang finally collapses on his bed. There’s still a few hours of free-time until his self-imposed bedtime, so he pulls out his phone and instantly opts to read through his friends messages from the day. It’s only after Yeosang reacts to some of the messages does his screen transition into the one when he receives an incoming phone call.

Of course, it’s Seonghwa.

“Hello?” He taps on the green accept button rather immediately.

“Yeosang! How are you doing?” Seonghwa chimes on the other side, sounding more than elated that Yeosang answered the call. Even though there’s never not been a time the man declined an incoming call from anyone.

“Good, I think. Today wasn’t too bad. The weather is finally starting to cool down, but Wooyoung and I still sweat buckets. It’s gross.” Yeosang answers honestly because he knows it’s what Seonghwa wants to hear.

After the first week and Yeosang seemed to be keeping things to himself, Seonghwa reached out privately to dig more out. So, now he makes a conscious effort to keep his eldest friend happy and be honest about his days. It’s rough, especially when prior to all of—this—it was normal for Yeosang to be vague about his day-to-day life. It feels as though everyone is still walking on eggshells, despite everything happening months ago.

“That’s good.” Seonghwa’s voice muffles for a moment, mumbling something incoherent Yeosang struggles to make out. “What about other than work? How’s things going with those country boys? They’re not treating you too rough, are they? I have the address, I can be there—”

Yeosang has to stifle a fit of laughter. If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s Seonghwa’s maternal instinct when it comes to Yeosang—or even any of his friends.

“They’re… They’re good. Sometimes they take me out into the town, or sometimes we’ll watch a movie together. It’s nice.” He fiddles with one of the strings on his pair of sweatpants, not noticing the subtle smile creeping across his lips. “It’s getting easier too. You know, with everything. I haven’t—I haven’t looked at the letter since I first got here. A-And I don’t find myself thinking about it as often.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone call for a couple seconds longer than Yeosang likes. It’s not like him to be this open, but after talking with Mingi a few times since then, he’s realized how much it hurts to keep everything bottled up. That, and he knows how much Seonghwa worries even if he doesn’t outright say it. While Seonghwa has a maternal instinct, Yeosang very much has a troubled-child instinct that can sense when a parental figure is upset.

“Oh, Yeosang… I’m—I’m really happy to hear that. You deserve to move on and find the happiness you deserve.”

Something stirs in his chest, but it’s unlike an emotion Yeosang has ever felt before. It almost makes him feel uneasy, except in a good way?

He clears his throat. There’s background noise still and Yeosang is perplexed why his friend would call if he’s clearly occupied. “Are you busy? You could have called later, you know.”

“Oh, it’s just—I’m helping Yunho get ready for his date with Mingi tonight.” Seonghwa sounds reluctant in revealing his plans for the evening, but once he does, Yeosang’s blood runs cold. For a reason he once again can’t quite place.

“They’re going on a date?” The pebble begins to scratch at the walls of his throat unexpectedly.

“Yeah! Uh, Yunho finally confessed not too long ago. About-fucking-time. You should have seen the look on Hongjoong’s face when—”

Seonghwa continues to tell the tale of the night it happened, or when the two eldest at least found out, but Yeosang fights to comprehend the words being spoken. Not when the pebble in his throat is suddenly becoming hard to swallow past again. After all of this time.

The eldest is still in the middle of talking when Yeosang cuts him off abruptly. “Ah, sorry, Seonghwa. I have to go… Wooyoung needs to talk to me about what we’re doing tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

And before he can even hear a goodbye from his friend, the call ends and Yeosang sets his phone down beside him.

Everything is fine, until it isn’t.

And more importantly, when Yeosang doesn’t understand why.

He should feel glad his two friends finally got their shit together, and are going on a date. With each other. But something stirs in his chest again, a feeling Yeosang hasn’t felt before, but in a different context this time.

In the morning, the sensation is still there.

And even when he’s taking his lunch break.

If anything, Yeosang has been physically digging at various roots, and tossing the byproducts into their respective bins, but mentally, he’s elsewhere. It feels as though that night he found the ring and the letter—but he doesn’t understand why.

“You good?” Wooyoung sits next to him under a different tree today, stuffing a bite of a sandwich into his gullet, not caring about how improper it is. “You’ve seemed off all morning.”

Is it that noticeable? He struggles to swallow his lunch.

“I’m fine.”

But apparently that isn’t a good enough answer.

Yeosang has learned that Wooyoung is a very different person from Seonghwa, but somehow there’s distinguishable similarities as well. Including their ability to sense a disturbance in Yeosang’s behavior.

“If you say so.” The younger man sets his sandwich down on the plate beside him, dusting his hands off afterwards. Yeosang continues to nibble on his own even if his stomach is close to repelling another bite.

Wooyoung doesn’t bring anything up again, but Yeosang can feel the country-boy’s eyes on him for the rest of the afternoon.

Even then he still can’t manage to shake the sudden heaviness in his chest. While his limbs move on their own accord, his mind doesn’t make much note of them. It’s as if muscle memory takes over while the numbness he hasn’t felt in months returns unexpectedly.

Nothing helps, and the pebble grows after weeks of it remaining its shrunken size. Every sip of water is agonizing. The minimal lunch from earlier threatens vengeance. Nothing feels right.

Finally the workday ends and Yeosang returns to the farmhouse in silence, remaining a few paces ahead of Wooyoung. If the screen door slams on his way in, it’s accidental, but he doesn’t apologize as his feet carry him up the flight of steps and into his bedroom. On most days, Yeosang will shower away the day first, but tonight all his body allows him to do is sit meaninglessly in the cheap desk chair in the corner of his room. That is, until he hears the click of the bathroom door down the hall closing and opening once Wooyoung is finished with his own routine.

A shower doesn’t help. As expected. The steaming, boiling hot water spits against Yeosang’s skin relentlessly, but to no avail.

And when San calls up for dinner, Yeosang remains in his room without responding.

So much progress has been made, he thinks to himself as he wastes the hours leading up to his bedtime in this worn-out desk chair. He quite literally mentioned to Seonghwa the night prior about how everything has been easier, and yet—it feels like he’s back at square one.

Why didn’t Mingi mention anything to him when they talked on the phone earlier in the week?

Yeosang gladly shared about his day, so why didn’t Mingi? Unless it happened after they hung up for the night, a slight buzz on Yeosang’s skin when the slightly-younger man wished him a goodnight and sweet dreams. Unlikely.

His throat becomes unbearably dry, so Yeosang forces himself to grab a glass of water. Despite his lack of motivation and unintentional yearning to rot in this desk-chair until the clock strikes nine at night.

What he doesn’t expect, as his feet land at the bottom of the staircase, is to hear a conversation he’s probably not meant to hear.

“He’s not telling us something.” It’s Wooyoung who says this, voice laced with concern.

Yeosang stills right before the entrance of the living room, hidden enough for neither of the two country-men to see him.

“Young-ah, I get it, but—”

“You didn’t see him in the fields today, Sannie. It was like a robot took over; he kept picking but his mind wasn’t there.” Wooyoung cuts San off, seeming more stressed by the second.

Are they talking about him? But why?

San audibly sighs, and Yeosang can already imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose. Much like any other time he gets stressed out during a conversation. “He didn’t come down for supper either…”

“Right, I tried asking him earlier, but—”

Yeosang appears in the entrance and clears his throat, noticing the way the two men jump in their bones at the sudden appearance of the new farmhand. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about me behind my back.”

Both men’s eyes widen from the confrontation.

“Sang-ah, I-I was just worried and—” Wooyoung tries to admit, but Yeosang only cuts him off again.

“I said I was fine, and I wish you would respect that.” He tries to say as confidently as he can, but the rock in his throat lodges itself between the rapidly constricting walls. Instead his voice breaks at the very end, and a crack forms in his composure.

Neither of the men can say a word, but the level of concern in their expressions easily doubles after hearing Yeosang’s voice crack.

This is when Yeosang is supposed to storm off to his bedroom again, and slam the door shut, breaking down in the privacy of those four walls. But his feet never pick themselves up from where they take root into the living room floor. No matter how many signals his brain rapidly fires to his nerves, none of them are received and Yeosang merely stands in silence as his stature begins to weaken over time. Once made of solid stone, the simple crack formed from within leaves his exterior crumbling onto the pristine floor beneath him.

It comes like a wave.

Entirely calm one minute, and then destroying everything in its path merely a second later.

This needs to stop happening…

Ever since that first night. Where everything about his future became uncertain, and he was completely blind-sided. Holding back his emotions has caused him more pain than the actual heartbreak, he’s beginning to realize.

The years of his father beating into him that boys don’t cry wash away when Yeosang’s knees buckle and crash into the hardwood floor, feet still rooted beneath the floorboards and into the soil at this point. All he can accomplish right now is allowing the floodgates to be broken open from the dam failing to contain any and every emotion he’s fought so hard to bottle away. It’s relentless, the burning ache in his chest, that comes prior to the sob that rips at his vocal chords raw and earnestly.

Just when everything seems to be going swell, something happens. And Yeosang is reduced to a puddle of failure his father would spit on if he saw.

Why? Why does this keep happening? When will it ever end?

This time, it has nothing to do with his fiancée, but still, Yeosang despises the burning in his chest and just wants it to be gone.

The next time he opens his eyes, he recognizes the same ceiling he’s woken up to for the past month, but he has no recollection of crawling into his sheets. The morning sun is proudly beaming through his white cotton curtains, allowing the room to glow in its honor. But the sun is never this eager when Yeosang normally wakes. If anything, the weak shine of rays barely seep through the curtains on most mornings. Especially nowadays since the sun rises later and later each morning.

“Oh, you’re finally awake.” A voice calls out from his doorway, on the opposite side of the room from the window Yeosang is fixated on.

No one usually greets him in his bedroom, so the sudden voice causes him to jump ever so slightly beneath the thin covers. But the sight of who the voice belongs to is even more shocking.

“Good morning, Jongho.” His voice comes out more hoarse and raspier than expected, and attempting to clear it only results in more pain shooting throughout the muscle.

In the month that Yeosang has been living on the farm, he’s maybe seen Jongho enough times to count on both hands, despite the man having a bedroom just on the other side of the hall. Even when Yeosang has seen the younger man, their interactions have been minimal.

So why is Jongho greeting him before San or Wooyoung?

From what he’s learned about Jongho, is that he’s born and raised in the same city Yeosang went to college at, but miraculously they never crossed paths prior to last month. Although, their directions of studies were in opposite departments so perhaps that has something to do with it; Yeosang studying business, and Jongho studying psychology.

The younger man makes trips into the city often for work, as the clinic he’s employed at has a satellite location out that way, staying for days at a time sometimes, but San is persistent on him having a room in the farmhouse. Becoming oddly defensive when Yeosang questioned it that one time. And only dropping it when Wooyoung shot him a pleading glare as if to not get him all riled up on the subject.

Either way, seeing the man in his doorway brings more questions than answers.

But he has a feeling the night prior has something to do with it.

“How are you feeling?” Jongho pushes himself off of the doorframe he was leaning against, and sits in the empty desk chair between Yeosang’s desk and the foot of his bed. It feels oddly formal.

“Like shit.” There’s no point in sugar coating it. Yeosang’s head is pounding against his skull, and the hoarseness in his throat feels like miniature knives poking and prodding all throughout.

Jongho chuckles at the honesty. “I’m sure. San said you had quite an… Episode… Last night.”

So it is about that.

“I’m not sick.” He answers directly.

“I never said you were.”

“But that’s why you’re here. Aren’t you?” Yeosang is growing more defensive by the second, skin burning from the inside out.

A blunt sigh escapes Jongho’s lips. “San is just worried, and—”

“Well tell him not to be.” Yeosang bites, finally ripping the covers away from his body, groaning as his muscles ache from the sudden movement. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for work.”

His footing is anything but steady as a wave of stars rush over his vision, and every muscle forcing him up weakens, nearly collapsing in an instant. Jongho rushes to the farmhand’s side, arms bracing to catch him if needed, but Yeosang continues to stand tall despite all of the alarms sounding within his skull.

“They gave you the day off,” Jongho says gently, now understanding just how fragile Yeosang actually is. “So just get back in bed. Your body needs time to recover.”

So that explains why he’s awoken so much later than typical.

“I’m not sick. I don’t need to rest.”

He attempts to take a step forward, away from the younger man, but the roaring within his skull increases and the invisible anchors attached to his ankles prevent him from making any progress.

“Yeosang—”

A strong pair of hands land on his biceps as the attempted step fails, his body careening towards the hardwood floor, but this time his body remains upright. The burning from last night returns unwillingly and Yeosang is screaming internally. It spreads from his lungs to his esophagus until the knives start poking and prodding even more.

He hates feeling weak.

Even more so when his usually confident stature is beginning to crumble once more, this time in Jongho’s gentle hold. As if he’s keeping Yeosang from deteriorating into a pile of debris once more. “It’s okay.”

“No—” Yeosang chokes out dryly. There’s no tears this morning. Every ounce of hydration evaporated after last night. “I just—I don’t…”

He remains in Jongho’s grasp as his lungs heave for a solid breath. One that doesn’t cause agony throughout his chest. One that doesn’t aggravate the knives in his throat. But that never happens.

For once the rock is nowhere to be seen, but Yeosang rather be choking on that than the blood spewing from every stab wound inflicted within.

This is all because of Seonghwa. If his friend never mentioned helping Yunho getting ready, none of this would be happening. He wouldn’t be heaving the imaginary blood out of his throat. All while a stranger holds him from collapsing into a heap onto the floor.

But why is it even happening?

Why does he care so much, deep down, about the pairing finally getting together?

Is it jealousy? Is that why his chest began burning so much after hearing Mingi accepted Yunho’s advances after all these years?

But why? Why?

Yeosang is struggling to breathe, only weak little gasps making it out past his lips. “I can’t—why?”

It’s pure desperation.

He’s desperate for the oxygen in the room to find his lungs again. He’s desperate to know why Seonghwa would tell Yeosang when everything was going so well.

“It’s okay, Yeosang. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

The words echo through his skull, but they mean nothing.

“Why… Why wouldn't he…” Yeosang cries out, finally noticing the dampness on his cheeks as it catches in the corner of his lips.

Every part of him feels numb as his body shakes through the rocky sobs.

Even after last night, it seems as though this being still has more to release. All the simple caution tape hanging over the washed out floodgates doing nothing to hold this round back.

His head hangs loosely between his shoulders, no strength to hold itself up. Just like the rest of his body.

He’s only been awake for thirty minutes, maybe. And now twice in a row all the emotions he’s spent bottling up for years have come erupting out.

Maybe it’s good he’s hundreds of miles away from his friends. Mingi would definitely be spewing something about how he needs to talk to somebody. But then again, if he hadn’t moved away, would he even be in this predicament?

After all, it all came surging back once Seonghwa mentioned—

Another sob chokes its way out from the rawness of Yeosang’s lungs, and he wouldn’t be surprised if blood comes up one of these times.

He wonders just how much experience Jongho has, and if he’s ever dealt with a patient like Yeosang before. Or if this is the first time, and Yeosang is mentally scarring him. Fortunately, his meltdowns like this are a rare occasion. Even if this is now the fourth time in almost three months he’s experienced one quite like this.

He doesn’t realize when the tears stop flowing, and the oxygen finally forces its way into his lungs. Or when sleep finds him once more that morning.

Only, instead of awaking to the gentle morning sun coaxing him out of a peaceful slumber, despite the circumstances that lead to said slumber, it’s a crowd of voices from outside of his bedroom. The door is wide open, and Yeosang’s eyes are crusted shut momentarily.

“I don’t know what happened, but I get what you mean.” He recognizes Jongho’s hushed voice, with a slight shake in it this time.

“Did he say anything?” San speaks up, his southern drawl exasperated more than usual. Yeosang figured out a while ago that it becomes thicker than molasses when the country-man is experiencing an adequate amount of stress. “Last night… He kept mumbling something but we couldn’t tell.”

It’s silent for a couple of seconds, and someone inhales deeply. “He kept asking ‘why’ over and over again. The mumbling, too.”

Yeosang’s eyes refuse to open and his head pangs at the thought of even attempting. A soft groan escapes his lips and his eyes screw further shut in frustration.

The conversation drones on as he lies there, helpless.

They want to help him, but he himself doesn’t even know what’s wrong. Nothing has made any sense over the last two months, and Yeosang is sick of feeling like this.

He shouldn’t be laying here letting the workday go to waste, especially when they’re in the peak of the harvest season. Being short a farmhand can’t be good, even more so when Yeosang was scheduled to help stock the store with fresh produce for the townsfolk today.

Though, even if he wanted to get up, every muscle in his body is screaming at him from even the slightest movement.

It takes everything in him to simply sit up in bed, his back resting against the wooden headboard. It takes even longer for him to open his eyes at last, squinting against the scintillating afternoon sun still casting through the cotton curtains. The pounding against his skull worsens from the ever so slight change in pressure, and he feels as though he could faint at any second. Whatever conversation that’s happening outside Yeosang’s bedroom turns into sounds of the ocean as blood rushes against his eardrums.

This is pathetic.

“Get yourself together…” Yeosang grits as his hands slam against his head, wishing for the pain to just go away. His voice comes out an octave deeper than usual, the strain on his vocal chords being more than apparent.

“Yeosang?”

The blood stops pounding against his eardrums and that’s when he notices a crowd towards the side of him, hovering in the doorway. Wooyoung stands in the forefront while San and Jongho linger in the background. Unfortunate for him, all of them share the same look of concern. A second later and Wooyoung moves a few paces forward until Yeosang is right in front of him.

“How are you feeling?” A hand reaches up to his forehead and brushes the greasy bangs away, feeling for a fever.

He gets an overwhelming sense of déjà vu from the question, but somehow it feels more sincere coming from Wooyoung.

“I’m sorry…” Is all Yeosang can muster out. Truly, because he is. They’ve barely known him for a month and had to witness a petrifying meltdown in which he can’t even find the source of himself. The worst part, there had been no warning signs beforehand. So he couldn’t even prepare himself.

“What—Why are you sorry? Sang-ah there’s nothing to apologize for…” The hand moves from his forehead and cups his cheek ever so gently. It feels cold against the simmering warmth radiating from Yeosang’s skin. Almost… Comforting?

The feeling lasts for a second until reality slaps him in the face. “But I—I scared you guys. And I missed a whole day of work for nothing—”

His throat is on fire but San cuts him off. “Yeosang-ah, your body needs to rest. There’s no way you were working today.”

“Please, Sang-ah, just lay back down…” Wooyoung’s thumb is brushing against his cheek. “We’ll bring you up supper when it’s ready, ‘kay?”

“I’m not sick!” Yeosang rasps out, as fiercely as he can despite the knives sinking in his vocal chords. “That’s what you both think? Right? That’s why you brought Jongho. Because you think I’m sick in the head.”

A fire has ignited in his chest at some point, but it’s nothing like the burning sensation from before. Wooyoung jerks back slightly from the sudden outburst, but his hand stays steady in its position. Even San becomes more alert in the moment.

“No one is saying that—Yeosang, why—we don’t think that!” Wooyoung’s thumb falters and his voice laces with hurt instead. “We just—”

He cuts himself off when the right words don’t come in time, and that’s more than enough for Yeosang to understand. Even more when he turns to look at San for help and the other man is just as stumped.

“We called Jongho ‘cause he’s a therapist, and can help—”

“I don’t need help!” Yeosang yelps, his hands slamming against his face, causing Wooyoung’s own hand to fall in the process. “I came here to forget. A-And I was so close, and then—”

His voice shatters like glass in his throat and the pain becomes unbearable instantaneously. The room falls silent while Yeosang heaves once more, an actual sob unable to force its way out.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay…” There’s pressure in the spot beside him in his bed, and a pair of arms wrap around his shaking frame. Carefully, a hand finds its way against the plush of his hair and strokes gently. The touch is grounding, but Yeosang is still reeling mentally.

“N-No… It’s not… I don’t—” There’s so much pain. Everywhere. “I want it to stop…”

And it does. For a little while, at least.

Not consistently, though. It comes and goes. Sometimes lasting for days at a time and then vanishing for a little while longer.

The late November air is starting to bite back once the sun sets before his shift ends. Even though Yeosang always wears gloves, they only prevent so much when the wind whips against his bones and settles for far too long. Even Wooyoung, who has been in this line of work for much longer, complains about how exceptionally cold it is this year. Thankfully, it’s only the wind, and not the ground. The first frost hasn’t broken yet and they don’t have to evacuate the plants from the soil just yet.

To combat the bitter complaints, San started building a bonfire behind the farmhouse for his two roommates, providing a beverage to warm their souls as well. It’s nice, is what it is.

After everything that happened, it took a while for Yeosang to realize the two men genuinely care for his well being. Even if it has been such a short amount of time. He supposes that it’s a good thing, especially since they all live under the same roof. Although, even if they didn’t care about him, Yeosang wouldn’t take it personally. They are coworkers at the end of the day.

When he’s walking the path back to the farmhouse, Wooyoung toe-for-toe with him, the familiar sight of the bonfire comes into view and a smile spreads across his face. With the added wind, its flames extrude fiercely and have no intention of extinguishing anytime soon.

There’s a few log stumps, as well as actual tree logs laid on their sides, carefully placed around the bonfire. Yeosang remembers seeing the layout when he first moved in, and his interest being piqued. Reminding him of the late summer nights spent at his grandparents home. Except, here, the bonfire hadn’t been ignited until the first night Wooyoung complained about cold fingertips.

“He spoils me too much.” Wooyoung smiles bashfully as he sits on the tree log, extending his fingers towards the everlasting flames. Yeosang sitting on the log stump to the right of his roommate.

“Pft, I do not.”

Their heads whip around to San’s voice, noticing the tray in his hands carrying three mugs tonight. Sometimes he’ll join them, other nights he’ll make up some excuse of still having work to finish up. So when Yeosang notices the third mug on the tray, a part of him perks up at the promise of extra company.

He’s grown much closer to them than he expected, truthfully.

Maybe it’s too pessimistic of him to not expect friendships while working on the farm, especially with his roommates, but Yeosang isn’t the kind to make friends that easily. How he became friends with his group back in the city is still beyond him. And that was all without the efforts of—never mind.

Every now and then he’ll find himself telling either of the two country-men about something it took him months to tell even Seonghwa or Mingi. Perhaps it’s a change of character, or as Jongho would say, growth. But there isn’t a worry in the back of his head when he shares the tidbit. Not like before.

They’ve picked up on his cues all too well by now. The first time was almost frightening, but Yeosang felt relieved when the pressure building in his chest dissipated after a short talk with San. Without even realizing, he’ll immediately seek their presence when the sensation shows up out of the blue, especially after a particularly slow day and unwanted thoughts fester in his mind.

It’s only been four months since Yeosang’s life flipped upside down, so it’s natural for the pebble in his throat to start acting up again. But the knives have never come back, like that horrific night at the beginning of the season.

And he hopes they never do.

But hope is a strong word when it comes to a situation as unique as this.

He hasn’t told San or Wooyoung about any of that yet. Is that fucked up? They’ve told him so much, but yet, he’s guarding that part of his heart as if his life depends on it.

Would it be so terrible?

Every night San prepares the same beverage for Wooyoung and Yeosang, and even though it’s not Yeosang’s favorite, he gulps it down to the last drop each time. Green tea with ginger, and a squeeze of honey for Wooyoung’s sweet-tooth. After the first couple times, San started to make Yeosang’s with lemon in place of the honey so it’s not as sweet.

Tonight, as Yeosang accepts the mug from San, he notices the contents to be darker in appearance, and a different scent wafting upwards. Wooyoung notices it as well and tilts his head in confusion.

“Gentlemen,” San sits beside Wooyoung on the tree log, leaving minimal space between the two of them. “Tonight, I offer you pumpkin spice tea, made with fresh ingredients.”

A chuckle escapes Yeosang's lips as he cradles the mug with both hands, relishing in the warmth it’s already providing. “Isn’t it a little late to start making us pumpkin spice drinks?”

Maybe it’s from the glow of the fire, but San’s cheeks darken as if the wind brought over a dusting of blush.

“Well—yeah, but I thought…” The younger man stammers over his words, looking down at his mug as if it’ll whisper the correct string of words. Something stirs in Yeosang’s chest, just like the fresh cinnamon stick in his mug.

“I’m just joking, San. Thank you. I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

Yeosang brings the mug to his lips and sips carefully in case the contents are still simmering. Barely a drop lands on his tongue before the familiar flavor of the blend of spices takes over his tastebuds in blissful harmony. Next to him, Wooyoung watches, hesitant for a moment. But when Yeosang goes back in for a second sip immediately, Wooyoung takes his chances and sips from his own mug.

“Oh my stars, Sannie, this is amazing!” The youngest out of the trio goes to take a second, and even a third sip while the other two men giggle earnestly at the reaction.

It’s comfortable, Yeosang appreciates.

Though his heart still hurts.

His eyes are focused on the fire before him, but he can see out of his peripheral vision how San inches closer to Wooyoung over time. It makes him miss his friends. How Seonghwa used to lace their hands together whenever either of them had a particularly rough day. Or when Mingi used to be able to read his mind and force Yeosang’s head into his lap, brushing any worries away with the gentle touch of his finger tips. Even when Yunho would invite him out for drinks after working way too late in the office. And especially when Hongjoong would ditch his studio for lunch when Yeosang needed it the most. It was all the little things that he never noticed until they stopped. And now he misses them more than he ever imagined.

On the other hand…

It’s when Yeosang accidentally falls asleep on the couch on a day off and he awakes to being covered by a blanket that wasn’t there before. Or when Wooyoung will finish Yeosang’s row in their section even though he’s been out there for hours prior already. Even when San is buried in knees deep of paperwork but accepts Yeosang’s offer to watch a movie in the living room because it’s been a while since they last did. And especially when he doesn’t even need to say anything and somehow they already know how to cheer him up.

Even when he hasn’t been entirely honest with them. About anything.

He’s never told them his true reasoning for traveling hundreds of miles away from his current life.

He’s never told them why he sometimes needs to lock himself away in his room after work.

He’s never told them why he insists he doesn’t need to talk to Jongho, even after Wooyoung almost came near to tears over Yeosang skipping meals because the pebble in his throat grew larger for no particular reason.

Some days it comes out of nowhere and completely blindsides him, other days he can feel the stuffiness in his chest and is waiting for the break.

Tonight is one of the former.

“I think I’m gonna head in,” Yeosang announces with his eyes still focused on the luminescent fire. His mug is cold in his hands, only half empty. The chill has reached his bones quicker than expected, and the smoke must be inhabiting his lungs quicker than usual. His breaths become more shallow by the second.

But his body doesn’t move.

“Sang-ah?” San questions with softness on his tongue and worry in his brows.

But Yeosang’s eyes don’t move.

There’s movement in his peripheral vision, and rustling coming from something other than the wood settling in the bonfire.

Then the mug is pried from his cold, rigid hands.

And a warm, gentle hand is laced with his own.

“You don’t have to hide in your head, Sangie.” Wooyoung breaks the unintentional silence as he rubs his thumb over the backside of Yeosang's hand.

A single tear slips down his cheek. Only then does his body finally move and it’s to wipe away the evidence before either of the two men can notice. With his trance on the bonfire now broken, he notices San staring over from the tree log, his expression unreadable.

“I…” He breathes out, locking eyes with San. “I don’t want to.”

His head falls forward and a small sniffle comes out.

It’s taken this long for him to come to that realization.

From being berated for crying as a toddler, Yeosang has learned to hold back any and every emotion that made him seem like a girl. Words directly from his father. Meanwhile, his older sister was allowed to cry and even coddled by their mother.

It took a lot for him to open up to anybody.

In all the years he spent with his fiancée, he never cried once. Except for when she berated him for it in her letter to him. How it wouldn’t kill him to show a little emotion.

Maybe she would be happy with how much he cries nowadays. Even if it is because of her, and the other looming dread that settles in his chest some nights.

Even amongst his friend group, they always joked about how his heart might be made of stone. Especially after watching a movie that made even Hongjoong tear up. All while Yeosang sat there dry-eyed.

If only they knew.

Would Mingi be proud if he knew he admitted this? Would Seonghwa hold his hand and tell him it’ll be okay? Would Yunho and Hongjoong be there for him as well?

“Oh… Oh, Sangie…” Wooyoung is crouched down next to Yeosang, but as the confession rings in his ears, his head falls against the older man’s arm. Another tear slips down his cheek, but this time he lets San come closer and wipe it away for him instead. His heart adding additional weight to the density in his chest.

It’s not easy.

And he expected that.

This time San calls Jongho and sets up an actual appointment, but in San’s office downstairs. Not at the clinic Jongho works at in the city. They give Yeosang an extra day off, but don’t dock it from his pay. Especially with Christmas right around the corner.

It’s silent for a little bit. He’s unsure how to navigate these kinds of things. The only friend who ever shared what happened in his therapy sessions was Mingi, but even then Yeosang couldn’t find it within him to care. Mainly because he never thought he would find himself talking to a therapist. That is the cousin of his employer.

He’s nervous, but because he doesn’t even know where to start. More like, where the roots begin in all of this.

The night before, Yeosang sat between Wooyoung and San who both held either of his hands with their own. With Wooyoung’s head on his shoulder. A movie playing on the flat-screen television before him, but his mind elsewhere. Probably playing a movie of his own predictions for the following morning.

It’s a miracle he slept, but when his alarm rang, it definitely felt like he didn’t.

And now he’s sitting on the small, worn-out couch pushed against the back wall of San’s office while Jongho sits in the newer-appearing office chair.

“I’m glad you’ve opened your mind to this, Yeosang.” Jongho finally says after settling in with his pen and notepad. “Was there something in particular that made you more willing?”

Yeosang breathes in.

And breathes out.

“I’m tired of having good days and then suddenly feeling the weight of the world in my chest.”

“That sounds like a pretty good reason.” Jongho nods and writes the response down. Is he going to do that after everything Yeosang says? “Have you felt like that lately?”

This is going to be more difficult than expected.

“Yeah.” He breathes out while trying to recall the last time he experienced the burning sensation. “But it’s not everyday? At least I don’t think… I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

He brings his head into his hands and sighs.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can take your time, I don’t need an answer right away. I’m here to help you, not quiz you.” This Jongho and the one he’s run into between business trips feels like two different people. The version that lives in the farmhouse, San’s younger cousin, laughs with his whole chest and easily throws back four or five beers like it’s nothing. Meanwhile this version that’s slowly picking away at Yeosang’s brain is gentle with his tools and speaks in a calming tone. “Are you doing anything in particular when the chest pain shows up?”

Yeosang leans back against the couch and thinks for a minute before shaking his head. “Sometimes I get lost in my head, and that’s when I notice it. But I first noticed it a couple months ago when—”

He cuts himself off as the memories of his phone call with Seonghwa come flooding back. That had been the first time, hadn’t it? They hadn’t mentioned his fiancée at all, except for Yeosang admitting he’s slowly getting over her. The chest pain was never there when it came to his fiancée breaking his heart. Only when…

“I was engaged.” Yeosang blurts out against his will. “She left me, and then I moved out here. That’s when I first noticed it…”

It’s Jongho’s turn to need a minute before answering. The younger man’s mouth forming a small ‘o’ from the revelation. None of them knew the real reason he moved out here, except now for Jongho.

Something bites at him for telling the younger man before telling his roommates.

“And you feel the chest pain when you think about her…?” Jongho’s approach is even more gentle now, his tongue tiptoeing around the questions in his brain.

Yeosang nods.

He glances at the clock on San’s desk, behind Jongho, and quickly darts his eyes away. It’s only been five minutes yet he already revealed the most damning part of his past. How is this supposed to last for an hour?

“We were together for almost seven years…” The information spills from his lips without needing Jongho to even ask a further question. As if his heart is yearning for another soul to weep his sorrows. “I-I came home from work and all of her belongings were gone… All she left was a letter and her ring, but I don’t—”

The pebble is a solid lump in this throat.

The words from the letter are permanently etched into his brain at this point, so when they come flashing across his vision it doesn’t come as a shock. The bitter, unpleasant words that haunted him for so long. The ones that kept him up for days on end, presenting him with nightmares that felt never ending.

Every flaw Yeosang ever learned about himself came from that letter, and he’ll never forget them.

“I thought we were happy…” He admits, but deep down he doesn’t believe it. Not when he knows the cruel intent behind those words he’ll never forget as long as his soul roams this earth. “I went on dates with her… I moved across the country for her… I bought her the smart t.v…”

Jongho merely sits and listens, occasionally jotting notes down, but he doesn’t dare interrupt Yeosang’s dump. Not when he knows the farmhand has been holding it in for God knows how long.

“Do you wish that she stayed?”

Yeosang’s brows automatically furrow. What kind of question is that? “Of course… We were supposed to get married, have kids…”

“Even if it meant she would be unhappy?” Jongho presses further, but Yeosang is getting more irritated by the second.

“Are you insinuating I made her life miserable?” Any other time, Yeosang remains calm, but when it comes to this… He’s like a bomb waiting to detonate.

Jongho senses he might have overstepped, once more, but the questions don’t stop. “I’m not saying you made her life miserable, Yeosang. You said she left a letter, and with that knowledge, do you wish she stayed?”

This is ridiculous.

He never should have gone through with this. Not when it’s turning out like this. Not when the pebble in his throat gradually growing into the size of a stone, almost blocking his airway. The fire is igniting within his chest, but with a different connotation behind the cause.

“I don’t know what I wish for. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?” It’s unlike him to become this aggravated, ever. But Jongho is doing a damn good job at bringing Yeosang’s emotions to the surface after they’ve been boiling in his veins for far too long.

“It’s not I that needed to hear it, but you.” Jongho sets his pen down on top of the notepad in his lap and makes direct eye contact with Yeosang.

At the end of the session, Yeosang feeling more drained than he honestly expected, Jongho gives him a task to take note of whenever the pain in his chest comes back, and what he’s lost in thought about if there’s anything.

Afterwards, with the blood in his veins still simmering, the enjoyed silence contained within his four walls is disturbed by a gentle knock against the wide-open door.

And when he sees San’s head peeking around the doorframe, a careful smile doting his lips, the blood in his veins reduces heat rather quickly. “Can I come in?”

Yeosang nods subtly, and shifts over on the bed for San to take a seat next to him.

“Are you guys done already?” He asks as San parks his rear on the edge of the mattress, not expecting his or Wooyoung’s appearance for another couple of hours. Even though the farm is closed for harvest, they have plenty of holiday activities going on to still bring in revenue.

“Youngie is still manning the stands, but I wanted to check on you.”

The admission comes from the younger man easily, but Yeosang falters for a second. He couldn’t wait until the farm closes to check on him? It’s only the middle of his shift, and surely Wooyoung needs the assistance. Even though the weather has been growing more and more bitter as the days pass, the crowds that gather seem to increase as well.

“You’re my employer, though. Isn’t this some kind of HIPAA violation?” Yeosang jokes, but San doesn’t laugh. Maybe now isn’t the right time.

“Sang-ah…”

“Right, sorry…” He ducks his head down, ignoring the burning heat spreading across his cheeks. “I’m… Okay? I don’t know. I got really upset, but I think I needed to. In order to realize some things…”

When Yeosang picks his head back up, San is staring with intent, a glisten in his eyes. “It’ll get easier, but we’re here for you, ‘kay? Don’t forget that.”

It’ll be a harrowing journey, that’s for sure. This is only the beginning, but Yeosang is willing to brave the harsh winds of the sea if it means having San and Wooyoung behind him to catch him if the winds blow too hard. There’s hope in his heart that only good can come from this, even if it is scary to have to admit he’s not innocent in the whole ordeal.

He nods and the careful smile remains on San’s lips.

“If you’re feeling up to it, me and Youngie were gonna go into town tonight.” San starts to ask, approaching the topic slower than usual. “Or if you want the house to yourself for the night—”

“I’ll go with you guys.”

San stops and stares for a minute, mouth still agape from being cut off in the middle of his sentence. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Yeosang easily admits. “Besides, I oddly feel better when I’m with you two.”

It’s the truth, for once.

Even though this morning was a lot for him to deal with, sitting alone at home would cause his mind to spiral. That’s the last thing he needs right now. Jongho had to return to the city after their first session, so sitting in a home this big with no one else to occupy the space would only bring back a nerving reality. One he hasn’t had to deal with for months now.

“O-Oh, right… Well, I’ll go let Youngie know and get back to work.” The slighter younger man’s face reddens under the pale overhead lighting in Yeosang’s room.

When it’s about the time Yeosang would normally make his ascent up the hill to the farmhouse, sitting outside for at least another hour in front of the warmth of the bonfire, he finds himself cozied up on the couch reading a book instead. It’s one that Jongho recommended to him a while ago, back when they first met. He’s put off reading it for far too long, but after San went back to work, he didn’t want to sit and stew for any longer.

On the couch beside him, his phone buzzes a few times in a row, distracting him from the paragraph his eyes read over. Sighing, Yeosang places the bookmark in between the pages and sets it down on his lap, reaching for his phone afterwards.

Seonghwa

Kang Yeosang!

You haven’t answered my texts all day!!!

Are you alive???

Instead of answering the texts, Yeosang clicks the call button, and brings the phone to his ear. It only rings one and a half times before Seonghwa picks the call up.

“Yeosang? Is everything okay?” Seonghwa sounds more panicked than Yeosang expects and guilt pangs through his chest. He hadn’t meant to ignore his best friend, but his mind was just too heavy to hold a proper conversation.

“Everything’s okay, sorry for making you worry, Seonghwa.” He apologizes sincerely, even when he knows he would never need to. Not when it comes to the eldest in the friend group. “I was… Busy… And couldn’t find the time to respond. Sorry…”

The other side of the line is quiet for a second. “That’s okay. I thought you had off today? What were you up to?”

And this is why he opted to call Seonghwa instead of text through reply. If there’s one thing about Yeosang, he hates texting. Sometimes it’s easier to opt for calling the other person, especially if time is of the essence.

“I did, but, um…” A knot forms in his gut. Why is he so nervous to tell the truth? He knows Seonghwa, or even any of his friends aren’t going to think any different of him. “I had a therapy session this morning. And it was kind of a lot? Well—It actually was a lot. I’m sorry for not answering your texts.”

When Seonghwa falls silent again, Yeosang immediately fears the worst.

But then.

“Oh… Yeosang… That’s—I’m really proud of you. You know that right? I always will be.” Seonghwa’s voice chokes out, cracking on some words. It doesn’t sound like he’s crying, but definitely choked up over the confession.

“Thank you, Seonghwa…” The world keeps spinning. “And, uh, to answer your question from earlier: I don’t know if I’ll come down for the holidays. It kind of feels like—”

“Ah, right—yeah. Maybe we could try to come up and visit? We all miss you.”

It’s been three months since he moved out of the city. Three months since he last saw his best friends in person. They’ve video called from time to time, but even Yeosang realizes it’s not the same. As much as he would love to visit his friends for the holidays, going into the city is a bit… Much. Too soon, maybe?

“I miss you guys too, a lot.” He releases a breath he hasn’t realized he’s been holding. “I could talk to San and Wooyoung, but there aren’t any extra beds here. They might know about a motel in town, or something.”

“Okay, yeah! I’ll talk with the boys later, they’re coming over in a little bit for dinner. Let me know what your boys say. I gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later, okay? I love you, Yeosang.” Seonghwa breathes out, sounding winded. There isn’t a crack, but Yeosang knows why regardless.

“Yeah, I’ll talk with them. Love you, too.” There’s a smile on his face as the call ends.

Not only from telling one of his best friends about something he swore he’d never do, for the sake of his own pride, but also from knowing Seonghwa said he’s proud of him. He thinks about how if they were still in the same city, that Seonghwa would have taken Yeosang’s hands into his own, or even pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Now he wonders if he’ll tell the rest of the friend group, or wait for Yeosang to tell them himself. A part of him wishes Seonghwa would do it so he doesn’t have to fear for their reactions, but he also wishes

Yeosang holds his phone in his hand, the book completely forgotten about at this point. There’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest instead of pressure. A smile still doting his expression after Seonghwa hung up the call.

“Talk with who?”

He whips his head around, startled by the sudden voice whispering in his ear. Wooyoung is inches away from his head, bursting into laughter when Yeosang clutches his chest to calm his now-pounding heart. “What is your problem!”

Behind Wooyoung is San, with his fingertips digging into his eyes, sighing as well. The youngest of the trio is still giggling to his heart's content while Yeosang stares daggers into his figure.

“I’m sorry, Sangie, I didn’t think you would jump like that!” Wooyoung cries with laughter from the floor, where he has since fallen over and rolled on to his side. It wasn’t that funny of an ordeal, but he knows the man is most likely delirious after working from dawn to dusk, hours later than he usually does.

“Mhm, I’m sure that’s exactly what you thought… But I forgive you.”

“I knew you couldn’t be upset for too long.” Wooyoung pulls himself off of the floor and goes to sit next to Yeosang on the couch. The blanket covering primarily Yeosang’s lap is lifted to attempt to cover Wooyoung’s cold bones, especially after he didn’t get the chance of warming up in front of the bonfire tonight. The youngest man gladly accepts the invite and snuggles up to Yeosang while San makes his way over as well. “Were you on the phone?”

He chews on his lip for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I uh… I told Seonghwa about my session this morning, and he asked about coming up here to visit me for the holidays, but I said I would talk to you two.”

He skirts past the first part, and they don’t make a big deal, but Yeosang notices the way their eyebrows raise at the revelation. The fuzzy feeling grows. Only ever-so-slightly.

When they don’t say anything, his mouth keeps working on his own to fill the silence. “I know you guys said the farm is closed for a couple days around Christmas, so I mentioned it to the rest of them, a-and they wanted me to visit but I don’t think—I said I would ask if you guys knew about a motel they could stay at. So…”

San, who is sitting in an armchair to the left of the couch, closest to the side Yeosang is sitting on, chuckles to himself and ducks his head down sheepishly. It takes him a second to regain his composure, but he finally picks his head up and nods. “Yeah, there’s one downtown. I can probably talk to the owners to get them a discount. Just let me know what days, ‘kay?”

Yeosang nods and only then notices how silent the rest of the house is. Usually Marissa or Antoine make their way over by now to start preparing dinner, but there’s no other commotion besides the three men in the living room.

“Are we on our own for dinner, tonight?” He asks, a small pout forming on his lips. There’s every so often that the roommates prepare dinner themselves as the two chefs have other priorities outside of work. Which is entirely fine, by the way. If anything, Yeosang sometimes misses eating something cheap and simple, like a cup of instant ramen.

“Oh, right, I forgot to mention earlier,” San perks up in his seat. “We’re gonna get dinner at a restaurant in town. It’s nothing fancy, so don’t fret. I just figured it would be nice, y’know?”

And it is nice.

Way nicer than Yeosang actually expects. The restaurant itself is small, a mom-and-pop style one, but its menu offers more than what meets the eye. They decided to sit down and eat first, before walking through the town square and visiting all of the varying shops. Even though he hadn’t done any physical labor, Yeosang’s stomach had started growling on the ten minute drive into town.

As the food is brought out to them, and everyone slowly clears their plate, Yeosang can’t help but to notice the fuzzy feeling in his chest continue to slowly grow. Jongho had told him to write down any time the heavy sensation appears, but maybe it’s worth jotting down this sensation as well.

“And then he asked the poor girl, ‘cash and card?’” San is retelling events from their workday, struggling to keep himself together while he chews through the current bite of food. “I wanted to laugh so bad, but I was helping someone else.”

Wooyoung buries his head into his hands out of embarrassment. “It was the end of the day! I was exhausted. You can’t laugh at me!”

San reaches across the table and attempts to tug away one of Wooyoung’s hands away from his face while Yeosang struggles to stifle a fit of laughter back. Eventually, San succeeds and moves his hand down Wooyoung’s arm to clasp at his hand gently, holding on to it for a moment longer before eventually letting go. It feels more intimate than Yeosang expects, and if he notices a shade of pink dust over Wooyoung’s cheeks, he certainly doesn’t say anything. Another bite of food is brought to his lips.

Even though it’s freezing once they step out of the restaurant, Yeosang’s full belly is enough to warm him from the inside out. That and the little bit of wine him and Wooyoung sipped on throughout the meal. Normally he doesn’t drink, but it had been on the house since San knows the older couple that owns the restaurant. That and the glass had been offered to San, but he drove, so Yeosang accepted it and sipped comfortably. For once he didn’t hold himself back.

All of the streets downtown are decorated for the holidays, but the main street running through the town square is where all the stops are pulled. If Yeosang thought the farm decorations were a bit much, this is as if Christmas spilled its guts over every square-inch possible. With the light dusting of snow still on the ground from a few nights ago, it really makes everything more dramaticized. From the wreaths hanging on every streetlamp, to string-lights hanging from each shop's awning, and even the giant Christmas tree in the middle of the plaza. It seems like a cliche, almost. But Yeosang loves it.

The first shop the trio ventures into is a quaint bookstore, with the intent to purchase something for Jongho. San complains as they stroll down the carefully organized aisles, unsure what genre his cousin would enjoy the most. Yeosang and Wooyoung follow like lost puppies, still feeling a slight buzz from the alcohol. He would consider grabbing a book or two while he’s here, but when does he have time to read? Maybe when winter fully grasps at the land and forces them to work less often, but even then, Yeosang mainly spends his free time with his roommates.

“I’m sure he’ll like anything you get him, Sannie. Jjongie isn’t picky, you know that.” Wooyoung’s words slur as he trails beside Yeosang, eyes scanning the shelves on either side of them. He turns to face the eldest of the three. “Are you gonna get anything?”

“Me?” Yeosang asks and Wooyoung nods. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t read that often, and none of my friends in the city really do either.”

The man beside him hums in response and looks away. “Well, if you see anything, I’ll buy it for you, ‘kay? But you have to act surprised on Christmas morning!”

San leads them down a different aisle and is able to pick out a relatively interesting novel that Jongho hopefully doesn’t own already. In the meantime, Yeosang swallows down the feeling bubbling in his chest, probably from the wine. Most definitely from the wine.

He doesn’t find any books that interest him, but Wooyoung picks something at random for him anyway when his back is turned and sneaks it into San’s hands. They exit after the gifts are paid for and move on to a different shop further down the street.

It’s one of those knick-knack stores that has everything and anything a person could ever decorate their home with. Almost like a HomeGoods, but the small-town version that doesn’t have a proper inventory on the items. It smells like cinnamon and pine trees as soon as they enter. Reminding Yeosang of all the pine tree farms his grandparents used to drive him past during holiday breaks.

They split up in this store, Yeosang realizing he could easily find something for the four friends in the city. Wooyoung sticks close to San, though, and ventures off in a different direction from the eldest of the trio.

It’s not a big store by all means, the shelves all pressed as close together as possible while still allowing customers to traverse without knocking anything over in the process. You could easily search the whole store in ten, maybe fifteen minutes, but Yeosang takes his time scanning over every shelf. It’s not as organized as the bookstore, but that’s where the charm is. Maybe. Actually, it kind of is a nightmare the further Yeosang delves into the store, realizing he has no idea what to search for.

As he turns the corner into another aisle, there’s a few rows on the first shelf that seems dedicated explicitly to snow globes. His eyes scan over them until one catches his eye and he gasps aloud. Reaching out towards the shelf, Yeosang picks up what is a snow globe containing a small bright-red barn with farm animals in the grassy field surrounding the structure. It’s corny, but it brings a stupid giggle out of Yeosang’s throat as he holds it in his hand. The other two have got to see this.

Yeosang walks to the other end of the aisle in search of his roommates when he spots them near the entrance of the store again. Their backs are turned to him and he’s about to call out for their attention, when the words die in his throat.

Wooyoung is completely pressed against San’s side, his head nuzzling into San’s shoulder playfully. Meanwhile, San has an arm around Wooyoung’s waist, anchoring him further into the touch. A breath escapes from Yeosang’s lips. The hand holding the snow globe slowly drops to his side. The two men turn their heads towards one another and the fuzzy feeling in Yeosang’s chest comes back but slowly transforms into something else unrecognizable in the moment. Wooyoung is saying something to San, and San looks at him in a way Yeosang has never experienced from the same man. There’s a grin growing on Wooyoung’s face afterwards and Yeosang turns away. His heart pounding in his chest.

He puts the snow globe back and keeps looking down the rest of the aisles the store has to offer.

“Did you find anything for your city-boys?” Wooyoung asks when he and San finally bump into Yeosang near the back of the store. They aren’t connected at the hip anymore.

“Yeah, but I don’t know. They’re kind of corny.” His buzz is beginning to wear off, and he desperately wishes for it to return.

“I’m sure they’ll love them.” Wooyoung peers into his roommates hands at the items he picked out. “And if not, then maybe they suck—”

“Young-ah.” San says sternly.

“I’m joking! I’m sorry, Sangie. I’m sure they’ll love them and that they’re lovely people.”

There’s a few more shops in town square they check up before finally calling it quits. Especially after Wooyoung stumbles one too many times, not even being able to blame the glass of wine that’s certainly worn off by now. Probably due to the lack of sleep and from working as long as he did. It’s a miracle San isn’t as exhausted, but if Yeosang recalls correctly, he woke up later in the morning.

Yeosang only has two bags in his hands, meanwhile San managed to find something for just about everyone in his contacts list, leaving him with easily three or four bags hanging around his fingertips. Wooyoung might have been the only one to not end up with more than one bag in their hold, which comes as a shock.

Once they return to San’s truck, parked near the restaurant they began their evening at, everyone loads their bags into the backseat before climbing in. Of course, Wooyoung sits in the passenger seat while Yeosang sits in the back seat directly behind.

The night is still young, with some time left before Yeosang has to usher himself off to bed for work the following morning. But it doesn’t come as a shock when Wooyoung falls asleep in the first two minutes of the drive back to the farm. If San is extra careful to not hit any potholes or ditches in the gravel roads, Yeosang doesn’t mention anything. The memory from his first day about how Wooyoung gets grumpy when he’s woken up from a nap comes back to him. He chuckles to himself in remembrance, and from experiencing Wooyoung’s post-nap attitude as well.

“You can head in first, I gotta wake the beast.” San turns to face Yeosang in the backseat after he puts the truck in park back at the farmhouse. He nods before grabbing as many of the bags as he can, hoping to lighten San’s load on his trip later.

It’s when he’s finally in his room, setting down his own bags on the desk, that he hears the front door open again. Yeosang is about to go down and help San with the remaining bags, and even Wooyoung if needed, when he pauses in his tracks for a second time that night. This time, because of the conversation that carries itself up the staircase and into Yeosang’s ears.

“Baby, come on. I know you’re tired, but you gotta walk yourself.” San’s voice can be heard clearly all the way from the front door, and it echoes against Yeosang’s skull.

Huh? Did he hear that right?

“All those muscles… And you don’t even wanna use them to carry your exhausted boyfriend…” Wooyoung’s slurred speech comes across clearer than the stars in the sky tonight. “I’m telling your mom! That I’m being neglected!”

They’re dating?

Yeosang remains rooted in the hallway between his room and the staircase. Soon, the two men will be making their way up to the second floor, but Yeosang can’t seem to move even a twitch of a muscle.

It’s not an issue.

The two men’s voices carry up the staircase, but the words fall deaf on Yeosang’s ears. Unbalanced footsteps are approaching and thudding against the first few steps downstairs. Much like Yeosang’s heart in his chest.

The sensation in his chest returns.

As two shadows climb up the wall along the staircase, a flip switches in Yeosang and his muscles finally regain their momentum. Before his roommates can fully reach the landing at the top of the staircase, Yeosang slams his bedroom door shut and presses his body against it.

Everything is fine.

Except it’s not.

Because how has he never realized? He’s lived in this farmhouse for three months and never once did he make the realization that the farm owners might be more than business partners?

Or how they share a bedroom. Amongst many other things.

Everything is coming back to him. All of the subtle moments Yeosang thought two close friends were sharing. Looking back, it’s rather ridiculous he never put two and two together sooner.

Like the one time Yeosang came down into the living room for their scheduled movie night, but Wooyoung was already curled up in San’s lap like a cat.

Although, there have been plenty of times Yeosang ended up in a similar situation with Mingi, and they were only ever friends.

Or even all of the times he’s caught San looking at Wooyoung with crescent shaped eyes, a smile from ear to ear doting his face.

But even then, he’s given Yeosang that same expression as well.

So could he really be blamed for not realizing?

Either way, it’s not an issue.

It hasn’t been an issue in the time he never realized, so why would it be an issue now?

If only it didn’t feel like his chest had a stack of bricks on it right now, and his heart wasn’t about to burst out of his ribcage.

Yeosang shakes his head and removes his body from up against the closed door. He should make sure San got Wooyoung upstairs alright. After all, he bolted the second the couple began ascending the staircase.

It’s as soon as he opens the door that he’s suddenly face-to-face with San, a closed fist ready to tap against the unusually closed door. Yeosang jumps back further than he intends to, not helping the current state of his heart-rate.

“Oh! Sorry, Sangie. I just wanted to say goodnight.” His roommate stands before him, looking more spent than the last time he saw him in the truck. “Is everything alright? You don’t normally—”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I just—um, did you get Wooyoung in alright?” Yeosang looks past San, unable to make eye contact with the man for some reason.

San turns around as if something is behind him that could have caught Yeosang’s attention, and his brows furrow when there’s nothing but Jongho’s door. “Yeah… Stubborn as always, but he’s in bed now. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

His palms are itchy.

“Mhm, I think I’m still feeling the wine a little bit.” He lies through his teeth.

It’s obvious that San doesn’t believe him, especially since hours have passed and it was only one glass of wine. Truthfully, Yeosang sobered up immediately upon the sight his eyes fell upon in the knick-knack shop.

Regardless, San accepts that as an answer. “If you say so… Get some sleep, Sang-ah. I’ll see you in the morning.”

When Yeosang finally gets ready to settle down for the night, he pulls out a notebook from the drawer of his nightstand and opens it to a blank page.

November 28th

• talked to Seonghwa on the phone; didn’t feel pressure in my chest, but something else? I don’t know…

• went out to dinner with San and Wooyoung; same feeling from before

• found out they’re dating; the usual pressure came back this time

This is only the first entry of what will probably be many, and Yeosang is almost exhausted from the thought of having to keep track of this physical symptom that comes and goes with a mind of its own.

Hopefully it’s all worth it in the end.

Chapter Text

It’s already his third session with Jongho. The last one before Christmas that’s only a week away now. And only two days before his friends travel up from the city to the small town Yeosang now resides in.

They’ve agreed on weekly sessions for now, until Yeosang’s symptoms improve drastically enough that they can then be spaced further apart. He doesn’t have much say in it, but if it helps then he won’t complain. Even if it is a slight hindrance in his usual routine.

“So,” Jongho leans back in San’s desk chair, setting his mug of coffee on the desk behind him. “What’s been new?”

Yeosang snorts. He hasn’t seen much of Jongho as of late, maybe only one or two other times besides from the previous sessions. If there’s one thing Yeosang admires about the younger man, it’s his dedication to his work. He’s never seen someone travel to and from the city as often as Jongho, all for the sake of helping other people.

“Honestly? Not much.” Yeosang answers, pouting as he tries to recall anything monumental happening in the past week. “I haven’t felt the pressure in my chest in a while.”

Truthfully, the last time he felt it was maybe the morning of his last session, but that might have been chalked up to nerves. Now that he has a better grasp on how these will go down, it’s not as intimidating. Especially when it’s Jongho. There’s something about the other man that allows Yeosang to spill his guts without any fear of repercussions.

“That’s great, Yeosang. It already sounds like these sessions are helping you.” Jongho says, skimming over his notes from the previous time. Yeosang nods, but it falls on blind eyes. “Hm, let’s see. You mentioned last time that your friends are coming up for Christmas. How are you feeling about that now?”

He leans back and his eyes float upwards as he tries to source the emotions regarding the question. “I’m kind of nervous? I haven’t seen them in almost four months, and…”

“And?”

“Well… Two of them started dating after I left. So I don’t know how that’ll be.” His palms grow sweaty despite merely resting atop his thighs. The last time he really sat down and thought about Yunho and Mingi was when—never mind.

Jongho narrows his eyes in confusion and ponders for a moment.

“I can see being nervous about not seeing them in a while,” He starts, tapping the end of the pen in his left hand on his notebook. “but I don’t see the vision about being nervous around the two that are dating…”

Yeosang releases a shaky breath. He himself doesn’t even understand.

“I… I don’t know either. I just know I get nervous thinking about it. They didn’t even tell me they were going out. Seonghwa told me. That’s when—” He cuts himself off abruptly. “When I had that… episode…”

It all comes back to him.

The night Seonghwa called him and mentioned helping Yunho for his date with Mingi. That’s when he first felt the pressure in his chest. But he didn’t understand why. Even now, he still doesn’t. It feels like one big blur.

His hands are shaking in his lap now, and Jongho definitely notices.

“I see… Do you think maybe they didn’t tell you because of what you’re going through?” Jongho contemplates the reasoning himself.

“Maybe? I don’t know…” He’s picking at the natural tears in his jeans from working out in the fields. “Even now they never brought it up to me. I see their posts on Instagram all the time, though. So it’s not like they’re making an effort to protect me from it or anything.”

Now that the memory is back to the forefront of his mind, Yeosang notices a familiar density settle in his chest.

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t read their minds, but you could always ask them. It’s good to have clarity, especially if it does cause you stress.” Yeosang chews on his bottom lip and nods in agreement. If only it were that easy. “On the other hand, I’m curious to explore the connection you made between finding out about them dating and your episode. If you’re up for it?”

Did he mention that out loud?

He swallows past the unfamiliar lump forming in his throat. “Sure.”

He’s not. But this isn’t about him being comfortable. It’s about figuring out what the fuck is wrong with him and how to get it to all stop.

“I know it was a while ago, but can you walk me through what led up to that night?”

Jongho doesn’t have to clarify which night, because Yeosang already knows.

“Yeah, um—Seonghwa called me the day before and told me about Yunho and Mingi. That’s when…” His voice is shaky but Yeosang continues on. “That’s when I first felt that pressure? I guess. The feeling I get in my chest. Anyway, I couldn’t focus at work the next day, and Wooyoung noticed. I-I told him I was fine. Then… Before I was supposed to go to bed, I went downstairs and heard them talking—about me. I asked them to stop, and that’s when I just—yeah.”

They don’t harvest cotton, only produce and dairy, but somehow a handful ended up stuffed in Yeosang’s mouth. He swallows dryly, not a single drop of moisture going down. All of it secreting from his palms instead.

Jongho is still writing down what Yeosang just admitted. The pen scratching against the paper amplifies against Yeosang’s eardrums. Finally, he stops writing, but taps the butt of the pen against the notepad in contemplation.

“Do you know what bothered you so much about finding out about them dating?”

Yeosang shakes his head. His eyes are stinging, and profusely blinking only threatens the tears to fall even more.

“I… I wasn’t upset about them dating. I don’t care about that—” His voice wavers completely, struggling to sound as confident as it did at the beginning of the session. “I just don’t know why Mingi didn’t tell me.”

It’s the first time he’s able to get the thought out of his head. For the first time since that night. When he broke down in the living room, mentally scarring San and Wooyoung for quite some time, probably.

“Are you closer to him than the rest?” Jongho asks with the intent to gain intel on the friend group dynamic.

He nods again. “I met him and Seonghwa first. They were my first friends in college… We—we told each other everything. But he—”

The words fall short in his throat, a hiccup coming out instead. He tries again. “But not about this…”

A cry finally breaks through, but not in the dramatic appearance it’s been warming up for. It comes out much weaker than Yeosang expects. Nothing like any of the other outbursts he’s experienced in the past few months. He whimpers pathetically as the tears flow freely down his cheeks. The hands that were once previously balled up on his lap now cover his face, in an attempt to mask his shame. Even though Jongho has probably witnessed events like this already.

It feels like too much.

The pressure in his chest evaporates with the cries, but some of it still lingers as it's eventually reduced to quiet sniffles. At some point Jongho handed over a box of tissues from somewhere in San’s office. He dabs away at the remaining tears tracking down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry…” Yeosang apologizes even though there’s no reason to.

“It’s okay, Yeosang. This is good for you to let it out, especially while I’m here. Just let me know when you’re calm, okay?” Jongho speaks with such softness in his voice, Yeosang is almost convinced it’s an entirely different person sitting before him.

He waits another minute, confirming there’s no new fresh tears about to fall.

“The only way for you to find out why Mingi didn’t tell you, is to ask, Yeosang.” Jongho advises. “I know it’s easier said than done, but sometimes you have to bite the bullet.”

“Y-Yeah… I just—I don’t know why it’s bothering me this much…” He admits, sniffling every so often.

“Would you be this upset if Seonghwa didn’t tell you he was dating someone?”

Yeosang stares blankly, holding a balled up tissue in his fist. Seonghwa has always told him about any and every date he’s gone on. This hypothetical wouldn’t work, but for the sake of Jongho who probably doesn’t care about all of that, he keeps it to himself.

“It would hurt, but… I think I could get over it.”

Jongho nods his head and chews on his bottom lip for a moment. “So then why are you holding such a grudge when it’s Mingi?”

He’s starting to lose Yeosang.

“I don’t understand…”

“I only know so much about you, Yeosang,” Jongho starts, “but I think you prioritize Mingi more than you realize. Maybe even more than your ex-fiancée, which I thought would be the general direction these sessions would go in.”

He stares at the younger man, only blinking his eyes.

“Is it possible you’ve ever seen Mingi as someone more than just a friend?”

The world stops spinning entirely.

Yeosang sits there, frozen in time.

“No—” His voice is weak. “There’s no—it's not like that…”

He can’t complete a single thought running through his mind.

Why would Jongho suggest that? In what world would he ever see that as a possible outcome for Yeosang’s reactions? How could he even come to that conclusion? Especially when Yeosang has mentioned his fiancée is a woman. Mingi is a man. Yeosang isn’t—he can’t be.

The letter.

The words come flashing across his mind. Every single word. Written with nothing but hatred and ill intent, Yeosang realized after reading it over and over again.

Some of it never made any sense, the claims his fiancée wrote about.

But now…

“My fiancée left me because she said I didn’t love her.” Yeosang bites. “Not because I loved someone else.”

“I never mentioned anything about why she left, Yeosang.”

He drops his head into his hands for the second time this session. This can’t be happening.

Not now.

Not only two days before all of his friends show up for the next week.

No no no.

“I’m not like that, I—fuck!” Yeosang next to never swears, but the confusion swirling around his head is pounding, disorienting him entirely. Left is right. Up is down. The world never resumed spinning.

Yeosang feels ill for the rest of the day.

He lays on the couch in the living room, the curtains drawn shut, and the lights turned off. His head had been pounding, and no amount of painkillers and water had been able to kill the sensation. This is his life now. Balled up with a thin blanket strewn across him lazily.

Time passes, but he doesn’t even realize how much until one of the living room lights flickers on, blinding him in the process.

“Yeosang?” A familiar voice calls out, sounding almost panicked. His eyes are squeezed shut due to the brightness of the room being increased by tenfold. “Sang-ah? Are you okay?”

There’s a hand on his shoulder, not nudging him though. It’s only sitting there.

Weakly, he shakes his head no. He’s not alright. And the pounding against his skull only increased with the rather-dim lamp being turned on.

“Sang-ah, are you sick? What happened?” The hand resting on his shoulder moves to cup his face and eventually pressing against his forehead to check for a fever. The touch feels boiling against his cold skin.

Eventually his eyes slowly blink open and sees San crouched to his level before him. The man is doting a rather worrisome expression and Yeosang feels guilt pang throughout his chest. In the background, he can hear Wooyoung’s voice calling out for the two of them.

“Sannie? Yeosangie?” Wooyoung calls out as he enters the living room, sounding more clear and less muffled from the proximity. He must notice San crouched down before Yeosang as a gasp is heard and then he’s appearing beside the other man in an instant. “W-What happened?”

“I don’t know… I found him like this. All the lights were shut off too.” He’s talking to Wooyoung, but his hand has fallen back down to cup at Yeosang’s cheek, a thumb gently brushing over the smooth skin beneath it.

Yeosang watches as a light-bulb clicks in Wooyoung’s head before he crouches down as well. “He had a session this morning. Was it not a good one, Sangie?”

He shakes his head no again.

Wooyoung stares at him with heartache in his eyes and a pout on his lips. “Oh, Sangie, baby… I’m sorry…”

San’s hand moves back up to his forehead but this time to move the stray pieces of hair out of the older man’s face, tucking some of them behind his ear. His hand lingers against the side of Yeosang’s face for a little bit longer. “Can we do anything for you?”

In a perfect world, the two men sit down and keep Yeosang company, but not in this one. That’s too selfish of him to ask for when they probably have their own plans for the evening. He’ll be perfectly fine on the couch, unless they want to sit here, then he can go lay in his bed. Either way, he doesn’t want to put a damper on their night.

“I just wanna lay here… But if you guys need me to move, I can.”

This time, it’s both of the men that shake their heads no in response.

“No, no. You can stay here, Sang-ah.” San says, barely above a whisper. His eyes mimicking the same sorrowful glaze as Wooyoung. “Do you want us to stay with you?”

“Only if you guys want to… I don’t want to bother—”

“You’re never a bother for us, Sangie.” Wooyoung reaches out and pets the top of Yeosang’s head, smoothing any out of place hairs San might have missed from earlier. “I’ll just tell Antoine real quick that we’re eating in here. I’m sure you haven’t eaten in a while…”

Yeosang nods and Wooyoung gets up to head to the kitchen, leaving just San before him. He stands up and Yeosang follows him with his eyes, confused as to where he could be going. “Can you sit up for me real quick?”

Still confused, Yeosang obliges and picks himself up to a half-sitting, half-laying position. San takes a seat where Yeosang’s head was and then pats his lap, signaling for the man to rest his head there now. As soon as he lowers himself back down, head resting comfortably against San’s thigh, the other man pulls the blanket back up to his shoulders. Afterwards, gentle fingertips find their way carding through Yeosang’s hair.

The gesture is all too familiar, and after today’s session, it makes Yeosang’s heart ache a little bit more than it normally ever would. Nonetheless, he melts into the touch and closes his eyes, this time from the comforting touch.

“Hey!” Wooyoung’s voice calls out a minute later. Yeosang opens his eyes to see the man standing with his hands on his hips, glaring at San in particular. “That’s my spot!”

The pair on the couch chuckle lightly in response. San is about to move, but Wooyoung urges him not to, taking a seat on the floor right in front of Yeosang instead. Even though the eldest man’s hands are tucked almost entirely under the blanket, Wooyoung pulls the edge back enough to bring them into his own.

“Do you want to talk about any of it?” Wooyoung asks him gently, and accepts Yeosang’s shake of his head as a response again.

Instead, Wooyoung and San’s voices fill the previously desolate living room, telling Yeosang all about their time hosting the letters-to-Santa event today while they wait for dinner. Slowly but surely, the pounding against Yeosang’s skull diminishes into a faint knock without him even noticing. The fits of laughter come easily to him despite the complete opposite mood he was in not even half-an-hour ago.

When Antoine brings their plates to the living room, Yeosang finally sits up properly for the first time since the early afternoon. As expected, the pounding comes back, but only for a moment until it fades to the dull ache it was just a moment ago.

The three of them chat amongst themselves on the couch while stuffing bites of brisket into their mouths. In the background, a movie plays and Yeosang tries to pay attention to it at first, but it gets drowned out by other tidbits his roommates forgot to mention earlier. It’s peaceful like this and Yeosang almost forgets about how rough his morning was. Almost.

He must have dozed off at some point, because San is nudging at his opposite shoulder, whispering his name sweetly in his ear. His other hand occupied by Yeosang clinging onto his arm, head resting on the younger man’s shoulder. “Sang-ah… Let’s get you to bed, ‘kay?”

Lazily, Yeosang nods his head. His bones are like lead throughout his body, though. He makes an attempt to stand, but with sleep still lingering behind his eyes, it doesn’t bode too well for him. With two feet solid on the ground, his muscles work hard to pick his body up from the couch, and yet they fall just short of succeeding. In an instant, Yeosang wobbles over but Wooyoung is there on the other side to catch him from falling face first into the floor.

“Sannie, you should just carry him up. He can’t weigh much more than me…”

Something in Yeosang’s chest flutters at the thought, but he’s too exhausted to argue.

So San carries him up the staircase, down the hall, and into his room. Wooyoung pulls the covers back so San can place him in the bed. At least he was smart enough to change into his pajamas after Jongho had left the farmhouse. There’s no way he’d be able to get changed, and there’s no way he was letting his roommates help either.

The cool sheets and comforter atop and beneath him are a drastic difference from the natural heat radiating off of his roommates bodies. A shiver wracks through his body, but soon enough he’ll warm up the sheets if he doesn’t fall asleep first. His eyes droop fully closed once he’s completely settled underneath the comforter.

“Goodnight, Sang-ah, sleep well.” San says barely above a whisper, but his voice sounds much closer than as if he were standing next to Yeosang’s bed.

A subtle hum escapes Yeosang’s vocal chords in response just before he drifts off to sleep.

And if San places the lightest peck upon the older man’s forehead, Yeosang has already succumbed to the most peaceful slumber he’s had in a while.

Even in the morning, he awakes to feeling lighter on his toes. A shift in the cold December air.

But it only lasts for so long before it's finally the morning Yeosang's friends are set to arrive to the small town and his nerves begin to act up again.

When he awakes that morning, sometime past six in the morning, the sun not even awake yet, he is greeted with a text in the group chat between his friends that they're already on the train. In three hours, the four city-men will soon be acquainted with the small town Yeosang has been residing in all this time.

Yeosang

I can't wait to see you guys. I've missed you…

Just… When you guys get here, don't bring anything up about

You know…

I haven't told San and Wooyoung yet.

Seonghwa

You haven't told them...?

Yeosang…

Hongjoong

We'll keep our lips tight

Mingi

^^

Yunho

Of course Yeosang <3

He knows it's not right. That his roommates don't know the full extent to why Yeosang ended up here. Or why he's finally agreed to talk with Jongho. But they haven't pushed for an answer. Maybe that's why it sits on the back burner.

Soon.

He planned on telling them after the sessions started, but every time the three of them gather, Yeosang doesn't want to put a damper on the wondrous mood. The other night would have been the perfect time. Yet Yeosang still didn't.

Even though the farm is bustling with families, Yeosang stays inside all morning, somewhat cozied up by the fireplace in the living room. San is holed up in his office as usual, and Wooyoung is sacrificing his soul to the young children eager to sit on Santa's lap. Yeosang remembers exiting his room and seeing the younger man donning the most ridiculous elf costume he's ever seen. He didn't even hold back a fit of laughter in the moment, his chest roaring with all its might as he folded over in the process. If Wooyoung's ears turned a pretty shade of red, Yeosang didn't notice from the complementary elf ears sitting atop Wooyoung's actual pair.

He has to leave relatively soon with San so they arrive at the train station in time. Thankfully, there's a van the farm owns for San to borrow, as his truck wouldn't be able to occupy four additional passengers. In the meantime, Yeosang sits directly in front of the fireplace with a blanket draped across his shoulders.

On the floor in front of him is the letter his fiancée wrote over five months ago.

He hasn't touched it since the very first night he arrived to the farm, allowing it to collect dust in the nightstand beside his bed.

Ever since the session from a few days prior, Yeosang hasn't been able to get Jongho's question out of his head.

He brought the letter back out for answers he had been too blind to notice at first. And rereading the handwritten words brings the pebble back, but it isn't impossible to swallow around today. For once.

It's been sitting folded up on the floor in front of him for too long. Too afraid to come face-to-face with it after so long. But he needs to move on. And to move on, is to face the worst night of his life, and everything else that led up to it.

With reluctant hands, he picks it up and unfolds it.

Yeosang,

I'm sorry to end things like this, but I just can't live with it anymore. I know it's not right, but I don't care anymore. I've reached my limit.

I can't marry you.

I can't even be with you anymore.

I've held on for years, hoping things would eventually get better, but they never did. I thought you were the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but I finally took off the rose-colored glasses and realized you're nothing of what I need to thrive.

I've known you for this long, but I realized every flaw I thought was a cute quirk is rooted in something I can't and won't ever be able to change. And I know you won't seek the change either. Hell, you probably don't even know what I'm talking about.

It's not normal to never cry. Would it kill you to let go for once? When my grandmother died, it didn't even seem like you cared. And even when I was upset, it felt like you were miles away while trying to console me. That should have been the first sign, but I ignored it.

I should have never said yes to your proposal. I should have ended things right then and there, but of course your friends were there and I'm not heartless. Though, maybe I should have so it would finally reveal the truth about this loveless relationship.

Why did you even propose? I remember you saying in high school how you don't think you'll ever get married, not after watching your parents fight all your life. Were you trying to prove something? That you could be better than them? If that's the case, you have to actually be in love with the person you're proposing to, Yeosang. I don't think I've felt that from you since we first moved here.

Something changed when we started college. I don't know what, but as soon as you met your friends it felt like I was moved to the side. I didn't want to bring them into this, but it's hard not to when I've spent the past four years watching you prioritize them over your own girlfriend. Even after your proposed, it didn't feel like things were going to change. I seemed more like an achievement in your mind than a person you have a deep connection with. I don't wish any ill on them, for it's not their fault, but for the sake of you, I hope they're ashamed of finding out about this side of you.

I'm sorry for doing it this way, but I know had I done it face-to-face, I would have gotten angry from your lack of a reaction.

Please don't contact me, let's just leave it at this.

He knows the sessions are helping, because the world keeps spinning after he finishes reading it. The fire still crackles, and the embers keep drifting towards the bottom of the fireplace. Unlike the first time, it felt like the world had stopped moving for hours, maybe even days. His breaths fall slowly, with ease. Then, it had felt like he was suffocating.

Jongho's question circles back to his mind.

Yeosang had been so quick to grow angry over it, but now, after he spent the whole day afterwards he cringes at the overreaction. Jongho had just been doing his job, but it struck a nerve. Although he spent the whole afternoon wallowing over it, the realization finally came to him two days after the fact.

There's regret hanging heavy in his heart.

There's no way to make things right, with either of the two people involved. They've both already moved on, and Yeosang is stuck in limbo.

Yeosang glances at the letter still in his grasp one last time.

Then, he leans forward and allows the flame to bite and snatch at the edge of the letter, burning it to a crisp immediately. Slowly, the flame crawls down the rest of the paper, reducing it to a pile of ash on the stone floor surrounding the fireplace. Yeosang holds it carefully by the bottom, simply watching as the flame engulfs the entirety of the letter. When it begins to reach his fingertips, Yeosang throws the remainder directly into the flames. It curls up for a moment before it's reduced to nothing more than ash. In a matter of seconds, the letter that once haunted his nightmares is no more. Its remnants mixing with the wood logs that have met a similar fate.

Yeosang wraps the blanket tighter around himself.

She moved on the second she left it for Yeosang to find.

Now, five months later, he's finally learning to do the same thing.

Even if there's still a lot left for him to work on, the pebble in his throat shrinks away with a swallow of the saliva in his mouth. He unfortunately made an enemy for life, but he'll make sure it's the last time that ever happens.

"Yeosang?"

He turns around and sees San standing in the entrance to the living room, leaning against the framing. The man has a blank expression on his face, but Yeosang knows he saw everything. There's a certain glint in his eyes that reveals the fact. Or maybe it's somehow the flames dancing across his pupils from all the way across the room.

"You ready?"

Yeosang nods and moves to stand up, stretching his muscles after sitting criss-cross for quite some time. He folds the blanket neatly and places it on the arm of the couch.

San doesn't ask anything on the ride to the train station. He's not that kind of person, Yeosang has learned. Never overstepping anyone's boundaries. Wooyoung wouldn't either, but he's always the first to ask Yeosang if he wants to talk about his worries. Maybe they both are upset about the eldest man keeping to himself so much, but it never shows on the surface. Even after his last session.

He could tell San now, on the near hour-long ride to the station, but that wouldn't be fair. There's so much to dive into, and San wouldn't be able to react properly. It'll have to wait. Again.

They arrive with still fifteen minutes to spare, and Yeosang grows anxious while waiting on the rather vacant platform. There's a few other people, presumably waiting just like the pair, as this is the last stop for that specific route. It's still early in the day and the sun hasn't been given a chance to warm the land from the bitter bite of the frigid cold air. It's not quite winter yet, but they haven't had a day above freezing in over a week already. Yeosang bounces his legs to generate warmth as well as to remove the jitters from his bones. San, who's right besides him on the old-wooden bench, remains unmoving like a statue.

"Are you nervous?" The man asks and Yeosang whips his head around.

"I don't know why…" He admits easily. "I'm also freezing. I should have brought a thicker coat."

The coat he has on is already quite thick, but it's one without a hood, so he struggles to keep a hold of his body heat trapped between the layers.

"Here, you can wear mine." San begins to unzip his own coat and Yeosang removes his hands from the warmth of his pockets to stop him.

"Are you crazy? San, it's below freezing. You'll get sick and Wooyoung will kill me." It's not an exaggeration in the slightest. Especially with Christmas right around the corner.

San chews on the inside of his cheek, hand still on the zipper of his coat. "Fine, but at least sit closer to me. I'll keep you warm."

Before Yeosang can even question the statement, San is pulling him closer and wrapping an arm around his waist to trap him in. The chill buried deep in his bones melts away too quickly for it to be from San's heat. Some of the other bystanders turn at the commotion from behind them, but they only bat an eye before turning back around. The heat burning from the inside out reaches his cheekbones, and thankfully no one can tell due to them already being pink from the cold bite of the air.

"Thank you." Yeosang says. San nods and mumbles a quiet of course, not thinking much of it. "For everything, I mean."

It comes out of nowhere to San, but for Yeosang, it's been on his mind for a while.

"I just…" He starts, taking a deep breath and watching his exhale fog up around him. "You and Wooyoung have been so kind to me since I got here, and I'm really thankful for it. I feel sorry, too—that I haven't let you guys in as much. I want to… I was ashamed of your disapproval, even from day one. Before I even knew anything about you two."

San can only stare in confusion at the rather abrupt confession. "Sang-ah… You don't owe us anything."

"You say that, but I can see it on your faces when I have a bad day and you guys don't know how to help." Yeosang admits. An uneasy expression comes across San's face as confirmation to his suspicions. "The sessions with Jongho have been really helping, and I'll tell you guys everything soon. I just—need a little more time..."

It comes across more soul-crushing than he intends, especially with the way San hold his gaze with his own. The man has no idea what Yeosang could be referring to, but when a train horn sounds in the distance, it becomes a tad more clear.

The train pulls up to the station as swiftly as it did the day Yeosang first arrived. Except, instead of him exiting onto the platform alone, he'll be welcoming his best friends into his arms. There's anxiety looming in his gut, but when he can spot Seonghwa seated against one of the windows, he turns to San with an unbeatable smile plastered across his face. "I see them!"

It feels like time drags on as each passenger makes their way off of the train and it's not a face Yeosang recognizes. There can't be that many passengers, but finally, among the last few to exit on to the platform, Seonghwa's face appears in the front of the pack. Their eyes meet and the eldest of the friend group carefully snakes his way around the other passengers to reach the pair off to the side.

"Yeosang!" Seonghwa calls out as their path is finally clear, and he captures the younger man into a bone-crushing hug. Yeosang can't even complain about the wind being knocked from his lungs as he melts into the embrace he didn't realize he had missed after all of this time. Behind Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Mingi, and Yunho follow in tail, all sharing a similar expression. "I've missed you so much."

Yeosang melts into the hug as Seonghwa brings a hand to cradle the back of his head. It's warm, and comforting, and exactly what he's been needing this entire time. At some point his eyes closed, but they open upon hearing someone clear their throat.

"Um, we missed him too, Seonghwa." It's Hongjoong that speaks up, and Yeosang chuckles as Seonghwa reluctantly peels himself away. The embrace with him is much shorter, but still as impactful on Yeosang's well being. Even before he left, Hongjoong was never one to be as affectionate, so it doesn't come as a shock when he pulls away from the embrace after only a fraction of the time Seonghwa spent.

When it's Yunho's turn, Yeosang expects it to be awkward, given the one-sided tension they have in his head, but it's nothing like that. If anything, Yunho is just as excited to see his best friend, and former coworker after all this time. It's a short and sweet hug, much like his with Hongjoong's, but at the end, Yunho ruffles the top of his head like he always does after a hug. The smile on his face doesn't falter.

Mingi is the last one to approach him, and this is where Yeosang can sense the apprehension from his friend. Nonetheless, the taller man pulls him into his arms, and holds on to him tighter than expected. Yeosang melts into the touch quicker than he'd like to admit. But it doesn't last long when Mingi is already pulling himself back after a brief moment. Perhaps even quicker than Hongjoong had.

He doesn't have the chance to acknowledge the confusion wracking through his brain when the sight of San standing off to the side comes into his field of view. "Oh, right. This is San, he's one of the owners of the farm."

San offers a kind smile to the group of friends, who all mimic it back. Yeosang extends a hand in front of each of his friends as he introduces them to San. "San, this is Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Yunho, and Mingi."

"It's nice to meet you all, I've heard lots about everyone from Yeosang." The farm owner says which bewilders some of them.

"Ah, really?" Seonghwa asks, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. "That's good to know. I hope it's all good things!"

The traverse back to the farm feels quicker than it did the first time Yeosang experienced it, but maybe since he's already acquainted with the route. They all fall into an easy conversation, mainly consisting of the group of friends asking San about the farm, and San asking them about their lives in the city. It's comforting for Yeosang to listen to his best friends get along with one of his roommates. Every now and then he'll chime in as well to defend his honor when an embarrassing story gets brought up regarding himself.

For now, everything is temporarily unloaded at the farm as their check-in time at the motel isn't for another few hours. San offers to give them a tour of the farm in the meantime, and everyone perks up in response. A majority of the fields are empty now, however, Yunho still shows his excitement to see what exactly Yeosang does for work now.

It's frigid as they drive around on the golf cart, the wind whipping past each and every body present. The sun is high in the sky by now, but its warmth still doesn't reach as strongly through the frozen air of the season. With each field they pass, Yeosang can tell they hope it's the last and they'll turn around afterwards.

"Wow… Yeosang you really have been working hard out here." Hongjoong acknowledges as they finally make their way to the shop where Wooyoung is still working as one of Santa's elves.

A blush creeps across Yeosang's face as he imagines Wooyoung's reaction to his roommates friends' first impression of him dressed in that ridiculous costume. That reminds him he still needs to take a picture of the younger man to keep as a memento.

"Ah, I would just stick to one section a day." Yeosang explains to his friends, who must have forgotten his spiel from a few months ago. "It's not too bad honestly. You get used to it over time. Unless you're San who only ever has to work when someone requests off, then you never will."

San, from behind the steering wheel, can't even defend himself as he rounds the bend leading up to the shop. The group of friends, including Yeosang, laugh aloud at the man getting his revenge from San making a jab at him previously. Finally, the man parks the golf cart and turns to face Yeosang. "Hey! I'm probably the strongest out of all of you, I can handle a little farm-work every now and then!"

Upon entering the shop, Yeosang watches as his friends look around in awe. There's patrons waiting in a queue wrapping its way around the walls of the shop. Plenty of mothers and fathers with their young children, eagerly awaiting to sit on Santa's lap. All of the employees scheduled to work in the shop today are dressed in similar costumes to Wooyoung, and Yeosang has to stifle back a chuckle as he makes eye contact with a few of them. None of his friends think it's out of the ordinary, if anything they find it endearing how dedicated they are to making it a memorable experience for the children.

Just as Yeosang begins to look around for his roommate, that's somewhere in the crowd of identical elves, a pair of hands grab at his waist, causing him to release a yelp that alerts San and the rest of his friends. From behind him, Wooyoung emerges and has to steady himself from doubling over in laughter because of Yeosang's reaction.

"What is wrong with you!" Yeosang cries out as his heart still pounds hard against his ribcage. Seonghwa looks over in concern, but realizes there's no real danger and soon joins Wooyoung in a fit of laughter, the rest of them finding the situation amusing as well.

"You scare so easily, Sangie." Wooyoung jokes, his one hand remaining on Yeosang's waist as he now stands next to his roommate. The sensation leaves a burn on his skin through the several layers of clothing as Mingi and Seonghwa notice the lingering hand. Finally, it's retracted as Wooyoung extends it to greet Yeosang's friends.

"I'm Wooyoung, by the way, it's nice to all finally meet you." He goes around and shakes all of their hands, listening intently as they share their names as well. Of course, he already knows the names from Yeosang, but it's good to finally put faces to them. "Here, follow me, I'll get you guys something to eat and drink. Then, we can go back to the house."

It's disappointing that Wooyoung takes off his costume before Yeosang can get a picture, too distracted by the conversation he got dragged into between San and Seonghwa about their workout routines. When the youngest man emerges from his room and makes his way into the living room, Yeosang pouts at the sight of his normal clothing.

"What's with that look?" His roommate asks as he takes the empty seat next to Yeosang on the couch. "All your friends are here and you're pouting?"

"You took off your costume." Yeosang exaggerates his pout playfully. Their conversation falls deaf amongst all the other ears in the room, everyone else engaged in several other conversations at once.

He's not actually upset by any means, but it's fun getting to tease the other man, especially when his ears redden in response. "What—of course I did. You think I was gonna stay in that all day?"

"Mhm, you looked cute." He admits truthfully. Wooyoung's expression falters and he's rendered speechless for a moment. Yeosang giggles as he takes a bite from the muffin he grabbed back at the store, keeping eye contact with him the entire time.

Yeosang hasn't felt this complete since—well since his fiancée left him.

If he's completely honest, his heart might not have ever felt this full ever.

Surrounded by his best friends he's known since the beginning of college, as well as his current roommates that all happen to get along. The initial plan was for his friends to stay until their check-in time at the motel, but before they even realize, it's dinner time, and Marissa comes out asking if she should prepare a few extra plates. Thankfully it's not any extra work since she usually cooks enough for leftovers, but Yeosang extends his gratitude nonetheless for the offer.

At some point, Yeosang runs up to his bedroom real quick to grab something, and bumps into San, who's heading to the bathroom, on his way out. It's more of a startle, rather than an actual physical bump, but Yeosang stumbles backwards regardless. San reaches out quickly to prevent his roommate from completely toppling over. "Oh, sorry, Sang-ah."

His hands lay on Yeosang's waist, much like Wooyoung's did earlier in the day. Except, Yeosang has his coat removed this time and can feel San's fingertips digging ever so slightly into his ribcage to keep a steady hold on the man. When he doesn't let go even after an eternity, Yeosang has to look away and clear his throat, feeling heat rise up his neck.

Finally he lets go.

But they both still linger there for a minute.

"Are you having a good time?" San asks rather sheepishly.

"Y-Yeah. I really am." Yeosang smiles genuinely in response. "I was kind of nervous about some things, and that you guys might not get along, but I'm glad it was just in my head."

"That's good, Sang-ah."

Unfortunately, all good times have to come to an end, and before Yeosang realizes it, he's back in the company van with San driving his friends to the motel in town. It's a short drive compared to last time, maybe only fifteen or so minutes, as opposed to nearly an hour.

While the night is still young, he's sure his friends are exhausted from the train ride and would like to wind down on their own accord. Yeosang helps them carry their bags into the two rooms that San was able to get a discount on them for. They already were pretty cheap, compared to hotel rooms closer to the city, but San still didn't want them to spend any unnecessary money if they didn't need to. That, and apparently the owner of the motel has an I-owe-you with San, but he didn't disclose much about it.

"I'll go wait in the van." San announces as the friend group finally have all the bags brought in, and gives Yeosang some time alone with them before heading home.

The door shuts behind the man and that leaves Hongjoong and Seonghwa sitting on one edge of one of the beds, while Yeosang remains standing. Yunho and Mingi are in the room next door, so he'll head over in a minute to say goodbye.

Silence encapsulates the three men for only a moment before Seonghwa cracks it with a hammer.

"You know, I was really worried for you, Yeosang." The eldest of the friend group begins with. "I was so beyond scared the first couple of nights, and even still a little bit before today, but I think coming here and seeing how well San and Wooyoung treat you relinquished my fears."

He doesn't know how to respond, and as he's formulating the right string of words in his mind, Seonghwa continues on.

"I thought it was a bit ridiculous for you to run all the way out here, but when I saw you on the train platform today, it felt like I was looking at the Yeosang I first grew to know. You look so genuinely enthralled with life again." Seonghwa tries to remain eye contact with Yeosang, but when the tears threaten, he blinks his eyes and looks away. "I'm really glad you're finally becoming yourself again."

The last sentence is what gets him.

Not like a knife to the heart, no.

More like a squeeze, as if Seonghwa pulled his heart from his chest and held it in his own clasp. It's not painful, not at all.

"Seonghwa's right." Hongjoong speaks up this time, a slight waver behind his tone. "We all had our doubts, and it's fucked up that we did, we realize that now. We just didn't want you to get hurt from making another rash decision."

Yeosang doesn't quite understand the last part, but he doesn't interrupt.

"I'm glad we ate our words, though. I don't think I've ever seen this side of you before, and I'm glad those two were able to help bring it out of you. I hope you don't let it go into hiding again, Yeosang."

Both of the men sitting on the edge of the bed are teary-eyed, one more than the other, and Yeosang himself can feel his own eyes stinging.

"I'm—" He doesn't even know where to start. "I'm sorry for making you all worry, and I know you're going to tell me not to apologize, but I didn't approach it in the best way. It was a rather rash decision, but I think it was the best one I've made. It hurt leaving you all behind—I think maybe even more than being left first—but I'm glad I did. It's made me face parts of myself I might never have otherwise."

His chest feels full, but not as if he's suffocating.

Seonghwa is the first to get up and pull Yeosang into another bone-crushing hug. The pressure from it is nothing short of relieving, and Yeosang releases a breath from deep within his lungs that had been held in this entire time. His head falls easily into the crook of Seonghwa's neck, relishing in the warmth. It's something he didn't realize he had missed after all this time. While Yeosang has never been an overwhelmingly affectionate person, he was never one to deny it from Seonghwa. It's something he learned to deal with overtime, but now he knows just how crucial they were for his well being.

"We're so incredibly proud of you, Yeosang." A hand reaches up and strokes the back of his head carefully.

He's proud of himself as well, even if it might not seem so on the outside.

There is still so much for him to work on, and this is only the beginning.

It's baby steps, he reminds himself each time he struggles.

"It's baby steps…" Yeosang whispers to himself just before he knocks on the door neighboring Seonghwa and Hongjoong's motel room.

Carefully, he raises his hand and taps his knuckles against the solid wood door. There's laughter coming from within the room until it fades away and Yeosang hears the locks being undone on the other side.

The door pulls back swiftly and reveals Yunho already dressed in his pajamas. "Oh, Yeosang! I figured you went back to the farmhouse already."

His friend steps aside, allowing Yeosang to enter. The room is identical to the one next door, including the two beds right near the entrance. And on the bed closest to the entrance, Mingi sits with his body facing the other side of the room, but with his head turned towards the direction of the door.

"I just wanted to make sure you guys got settled in, and to say goodnight." He stands between Yunho who idles near the door, and Mingi on the bed who finally turns his whole body around.

It feels awkward, but why?

There's never been a lingering tension between any of them. So why does the air in this motel room feel stuffier than the one right next door?

"Um, thank you guys for coming up, by the way. I really appreciate it. I've missed being around all of you." Yeosang admits, his voice coming out weaker than he intends.

"Of course, Yeosang. Honestly, we meant to come up much sooner, but time got the best of us." Yunho shares truthfully. Mingi nods silently from where he still sits.

"Well, I'll let you guys get some sleep, I know you're probably exhausted." His eyes bounce between the two men nervously, feeling an itch in his throat simultaneously.

Right as he's on his way out, Yeosang turns in the middle of the doorway. "Congratulations, by the way. I wanted to make sure to say it in person before I forgot."

It's the way Yunho's ears redden rather immediately.

And the way Mingi's eyes widen, yet he still remains silent.

"O-Oh, right… Ah—thank you, Yeosang." Yunho stammers out, leaning against the solid wood door for support.

In a matter of what feels like only seconds later, he's back in the passenger seat of the company van, with San being the only other occupant this time. He doesn't say anything as he buckles his seatbelt and San merely observes from the driver's seat.

Yeosang hates the way his heart feels heavy in his chest.

And the feeling persists even with San's hand reaching across the way to rest atop Yeosang's knee, offering support. He doesn't know the thick of it, and quite truthfully, Yeosang is still learning about it himself, but the gesture brings him comfort regardless.

Wooyoung is curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over his being and pulled up snugly to his chin as the T.V. drones on in the background. Soft snores pour from his ever-so-slightly agape jaw. While Yeosang finds the sight to be nothing short of adoring, San exhales deeply from beside him for knowing what's next to come.

"I love him, but I hate having to wake him up…" San groans, throwing his head back gently in defeat.

Yeosang releases a quiet chuckle as his gaze still focuses on his sound-asleep roommate.

He never ended up asking the couple for confirmation about their relationship, but Yeosang realized shortly after his discovery that there isn't a need to. Not when he started paying attention more and noticing just how un-subtle the two actually are. Perhaps it was due to Yeosang sorting through the war waging on in his own mind to properly pay attention. Either way, it's much harder nowadays to not notice how head-over-heels they are for one another.

Yeosang hopes he can find something like that one day. Properly, this time.

"I can wake him if you want." He sacrifices himself to the wolf snoring against the couch cushion beneath his head.

"Actually, he might be more happy to see you anyway."

Whatever that means.

Yeosang approaches the couch and crouches down to be head-level with Wooyoung, who has no intention of waking up any time soon.

There's only been a few times where he's had to awake Wooyoung from a nap, and the results were fifty-fifty depending on the circumstances from those days. If it was a lazy day with Wooyoung curled into Yeosang's side, he awoke more graciously and with a purr in his chest. Though, if it was after a long day of work with several stressors involved, the man would growl from being disturbed and bare his fangs.

Right now, as he places a hand on Wooyoung's shoulder to gently nudge him awake, he can't predict how it might be.

"Mhm…" Wooyoung mumbles, full of sleep still, as he begins to stir. Yeosang removes his hand from the man's shoulder and brings it to swipe the loose piece of bangs dangling across Wooyoung's cheeks, tucking them gingerly behind his exposed ear.

San watches from the sidelines as his partner slowly comes to, beginning to honor his previous statement.

The gentle caresses of Yeosang's fingers against the side of scalp bring a subtle smile to Wooyoung's lips as his lids begin to flutter open. Yeosang can't help but mimic the reaction as his roommate leans into the touch, the heavy ache in his heart slowly melting away by the second.

"You guys are back?" Wooyoung mumbles groggily, his tone an octave higher than usual as he stretches the sleep from his muscles. "I didn't mean to fall asleep…"

"It's okay, Wooyoung. You've been up since before dawn; if you didn't fall asleep I'd be shocked." Yeosang chuckles as his roommate pulls himself up from the couch to sit in an upright position. He rubs at his eyes and lets out a wide yawn, resembling a cat who's freshly awoken from a nap as well.

San finally makes his way over to the couch and sits on the empty cushion beside Wooyoung, collapsing against it with a soft bounce. Wooyoung wastes no time curling into his partner's side, sleep still evident in his veins. Yeosang is still awkwardly crouched on the floor until he's yanked up onto the couch on the other side of Wooyoung. "C'mere, Sangie."

Yeosang is resting with his head fully in Wooyoung's lap, fingers lazily carding through his dark and lengthy locks. San is squished between Wooyoung and the arm of the couch, somehow leaning comfortably enough for his partner to nestle deep with his back against his side. The situation comes naturally to them, gravitating towards one another without any repel. "Your friends settle in okay at the motel?"

"Mhm." Yeosang finds himself closing his eyes from Wooyoung's feather-light scratches against his scalp, attempting to resist the urge to fall into a similar fate of sleep.

"That's good." Wooyoung hums. "It was nice to see you have such a good time, Sangie. I can tell how much they care about you."

The ache in his heart has completely melted away at this point and is gradually replaced with a flutter instead.

Yeosang chuckles softly, a smile spreading smooth like butter across his face. "It's funny you say that, Seonghwa and Hongjoong said something similar about you two."

"What do you mean?" He hears San ask from behind Wooyoung, curiosity lacing his voice.

"They said something about how they're glad how well you treat me, and that you guys bring out a side of me they haven't seen in a while… It was really sweet." The memory is still fresh in his mind, but he's sure he'll hold onto it dearly for many, many years to come. Especially after everything he's been working through.

The T.V. continues to play in the background, set to whatever show Wooyoung had put on in San and Yeosang's absence, none of them paying any mind to it. Yeosang can only focus on managing to stay awake despite Wooyoung's unintentional relaxing lure to fall into a fit of sleep. His eyes are growing heavier with the promise of remaining shut for the remainder of the night.

"You're nothing shy of an angel, Sang-ah." San finally responds, bringing Yeosang's level of consciousness back to the surface. "I don't see how anyone could treat you any different."

He hums softly before mumbling, "There's some people who might beg to differ."

The last thing he remembers before finally succumbing to the slumber dangling behind his eyes is the couple behind him murmuring to themselves, but it's beyond his capabilities to decipher the words spoken.

He really needs to tell them.

It's not fair to hide it from them any longer.

It's going on five months since he moved into the farmhouse, and nearly a month since his weekly sessions with Jongho began. He knows it won't cause the drastic change that deep down he believes will be as a result.

They're not those kind of people.

But still, he needs to clear his conscious with someone else first. And the opportunity unexpectedly presents itself on the last night that Yeosang's friends are in town.

They only promised to stay until two days before Christmas, in order to grant their families wishes of seeing them for the holiday as well. Even though they all have to be up early in the morning to arrive at the station in time, Wooyoung pulled out the homemade egg-nog he made earlier in the month. It had been ageing in their fridge for roughly three weeks at this point, a giant do not drink sticky-note plastered on the front of the container. Initially, he had saved it for the actual night of Christmas Eve, but what better way to end everyone's mini-vacation than by busting it out now.

Unfortunately, almost everyone in the farmhouse, besides Wooyoung is a light-weight and become intoxicated rather quickly. Yeosang, who has learned his limits and refrains from ingesting too much, sits back as the designated sober one of the group, even though it's a rather stressful role.

Everything is relatively easy going for a majority of the evening.

They had a hearty dinner served up by both Marissa and Antoine, chased with the glasses of eggnog as a dessert. Praises for Wooyoung's concoction came from all around the dining room table, the man gladly accepting the compliments and inflating his ego in the process. It barely takes more than one glass for San, and a little less than two for the rest of them to begin feeling the effects of the beverage. Though, the only one who still sips their first glass alongside Yeosang is Mingi. He says something about wanting to make sure nothing happens to any of them also. Yeosang merely nods as Wooyoung and Hongjoong groan on and on about something he has no expertise on.

It begins to grow later into the evening when San finally passes out on the couch, curled up into a ball on Wooyoung's lap. Seonghwa is leaning against the couch between Hongjoong's legs while Yunho explains to them about the newest show him and Mingi have started watching. Some kind of anime that has a plot Yeosang can't quite follow, and still wouldn't be able to even if he was completely sober.

There's something about whenever he leaves his group of friends to venture upstairs, this time to use the bathroom, that he ends up bumping into one of them on his way back.

"Can we talk?"

Mingi stands in front of him at the top of the staircase.

Yeosang nods and then redirects them to his bedroom only a few paces behind them.

It's strange how things feel between them anymore. What Mingi used to tell Yeosang about on nearly a daily basis becomes luck if Seonghwa happens to mention it in passing. Things have been like this since him and Yunho started dating, if he could pinpoint it to a certain time-frame.

Even in the past few days they've all been in town, there's an unmeasurable distance between them. For some reason Mingi will linger further and further away from Yeosang whenever they're out as a group. If anyone else has noticed, no on has mentioned a peep about it. Maybe it's for the best that way. They're supposed to be enjoying their time in town, not causing unnecessary drama.

There's not many options for them to choose from in regards to seating, so Yeosang offers Mingi his desk chair, meanwhile Yeosang leans against the end of his footboard facing the slightly-younger man.

"Seonghwa told me you started going to therapy." Mingi offers.

"Mhm, if you wanna call it that," Yeosang contemplates with a slight pout hanging off of his lips. "It's with San's cousin, Jongho, that works in a clinic near the city. We meet in San's office once a week, for now."

"That's really good, Yeosang. I'm glad you've finally opened up to it."

He stares at his feet sheepishly. "Y-Yeah, thank you. It's definitely helping… I've—um—come to terms with some things."

He's alluding, but even then, Mingi doesn't know the full story about why his ex-fiancée left him. None of them do. He's told them about the letter, but still he was too ashamed to tell them of her factual reasoning's.

A heavy silence lingers in the air for a few moments longer than Yeosang is personally comfortable with. He eventually looks up from his feet and finds Mingi's gaze landing directly on him. There's an apologetic expression painting his face, yet the words haven't found the route off of his tongue yet.

"I'm sorry for not telling you about Yunho and I." This time it's Mingi whose gaze falls to the floor, his hands clasped together in his lap. "I know it was fucked up of me, but I—I'm sorry."

He wants to say it's okay, but he doesn't. Instead he chews on his bottom lip and replies with, rather bluntly, "Yeah."

Mingi doesn't pick his gaze up from the floor. Yeosang can see the wave of regret wash over the man sitting before him. It's selfish of him to feel hurt by the neglect, when he's just as guilty of running from his own problems. Hence how he ended up in this town to begin with.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He finds himself asking while still staring at the crown of Mingi's head.

"It's not that simple—" Mingi finally picks his head back up, a glisten within his eyes that knocks the wind out of Yeosang's lungs.

"Mingi, please." It comes out just as desperate as he intends.

He needs to know.

He needs to know if the actuality matches the assumptions in his head. So he doesn't spend another night losing sleep over this. Wondering what the fuck happened between them for things to be as estranged as they currently stand.

"You left."

Yeosang scoffs from the response. "What does that have anything to do with it? Just because I left the city doesn't mean you can't tell me—"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Please don't…" Mingi's plead comes out as a whisper almost completely lost between the two of them.

Does he though?

One could argue that Yeosang has known he's always been Mingi's favorite amongst the group of friends, naturally gravitating towards him a majority of the time. That is until somehow the line between his and Yunho's friendship began to blur and the gravitational pull switch directions. It had been relatively recent, maybe after Yeosang proposed to his ex-fiancée. Either way, it had been a drastic enough change for Yeosang to become aware of the shift of attention going from him to their other best friend. He didn't realize why it hurt deep down to no longer be the center of Mingi's affection.

He doesn't respond, and the silence is enough for Mingi to accept.

"I didn't always know." The confession falls gracefully from the edge of his lips. "I'm sorry, Mingi."

"It's a little too late for that."

He nods, avoiding Mingi's gaze entirely.

"You leaving made it real." Mingi breathes out harshly. "That it would never happen. That I needed to move on. Just like you needed to."

It stings.

All of it.

Somehow this feels worse than if his ex-fiancée had dumped him in person. With that, Yeosang knew he never would be able to love her in the way she needed him to.

So why does it hurt worse when it's exactly the same with Mingi?

"Even if I didn't leave," his voice wavers, "even if I had stayed. I wouldn't be able to—"

"I know. You're not—" The words tear through Mingi's chest, cutting off abruptly with a slight choking sound following.

There's a tug in his chest, pulling on his heart.

"I'm sorry, Mingi, I—I wish…" The thought dies on his tongue when he finally looks back over and finds Mingi already staring back at him.

"Yeah." Is all he says. Mimicking the way Yeosang had responded to him earlier. "Just don't… Don't string them along like you did with me."

But before Yeosang can even ask what he means by that, Mingi removes himself abruptly from the desk chair and stalks out of the bedroom.

In the morning, Yeosang jolts to the sound of Seonghwa's alarm sounding from the nightstand beside his bed. Even though he hadn't drunk more than a glass of Wooyoung's eggnog, he groans alongside Seonghwa and Hongjoong who have fallen asleep beside him in his bed. While his friends battle a hangover, Yeosang battles sleep deprivation from losing himself to yet another night of no sleep. He'd be lucky if he actually fell asleep, but considering the way his nerves tingle already, he doubts slept found him for more than a couple of hours.

He's the first one to roam out of bed, his limbs moving on their own accord with barely any recognition in his mind. Step by step, Yeosang makes his way downstairs to see Wooyoung and San still sound asleep on the couch. They were kind enough to lend their bed to Yunho and Mingi and take the couch instead. Of course the other couple insisted they would be fine otherwise, the two farmers won the battle. After all, Yeosang's friends are the guests and should be able to sleep comfortably on their last night in town.

That hadn't initially meant to be their plan, but the motel accidentally double-booked the exact same rooms Yeosang's friends had been occupying, so they had to check-out a day earlier. How it happened, Yeosang has no clue. All he knows is that San was rather frustrated and mumbled something about how he should have expected this.

Yeosang floats his way over to the couple tangled between one another, soft snores pouring from both of their mouths. Wooyoung is sprawled atop San, nearly hanging off the edge of the couch. Meanwhile San has his arms wrapped protectively around his partner, unintentionally tucking Wooyoung's head underneath his own chin. The sight only adds to the dull ache in Yeosang's chest, despite how endearing it is.

"San… Wooyoung…" Yeosang whispers, not reaching out to physically disturb them yet. San shifts ever so slightly beneath Wooyoung, inhaling deeply from the careful mention of his name. Though, it's not enough to fully awake either man.

Delicately, Yeosang reaches a hand out to nudge at Wooyoung's shoulder. This time, he stirs for a moment, but his eyes remain shut. A soft groan sounds from the man in protest. "Wooyoung… It's time to get up."

"Don' wanna…" He clings tighter to San beneath him, who reacts as well by tightening his grasp on Wooyoung as well.

"I need your boyfriend to drive my friends to the station." Yeosang giggles as he informs his roommate, who doesn't plan on budging. "So, I need you to get off of him."

San finally opens his eyes and peers up at Yeosang through them, half-lidded. His movements are languid from sleep still settling deep within his muscles, but it's seeming he's making more of effort than Wooyoung. "Young-ah… C'mon…"

The younger man shakes his head persistently and burrows deeper into San's chest.

Yeosang finds it endearing, but only mildly frustrating since he really does need to steal San for a couple of hours. They don't technically have to leave yet, not for another hour or so, but the more awake everyone is, the better.

"You're so warm… And it's so cold…" Wooyoung whines into the hoodie San fell asleep in. One of San's hands runs itself up and down Wooyoung's back to softly coax him awake.

An idea comes into his mind, but it might be crossing a line.

"You can lay on me while San helps everyone pack everything into the van?" Yeosang offers.

He watches as Wooyoung nods his head instead and lazily pulls himself up into a sitting position, nearly falling off of the couch in the process. San's eyes widen from Wooyoung accepting the offer, but Yeosang doesn't notice as he picks himself up to sit on the other end of the couch near San's feet. He's not even fully seated before Wooyoung immediately latches himself on to Yeosang like a koala.

Yeosang falls with his back landing against the arm of the couch and watches as San sits up in confusion, probably from a mix of being hungover and still weaning off of the sleep. "Are you stealing my boyfriend?"

He chuckles softly, but before he can respond, Wooyoung picks his head up off of Yeosang's chest and turns to face San. "Don't be so jealous, Sannie. You can have your turn later…"

Almost immediately, Yeosang watches San's cheeks grow more red in color which he presumes is not from the sleep, or even from all of the alcohol he consumed last night. He can't help but giggle once more, completely oblivious to what Wooyoung even meant by the statement.

Slowly but surely, the rest of Yeosang's friends eventually make their way into the living room, hauling not only their belongings, but also their achy bones and muscles. Wooyoung is still passed out on Yeosang's chest for the time being, and Seonghwa can't help but tilt his head in confusion at the sight on the couch. Hongjoong doesn't even notice, his eyes only half-open as he relaxes into one of the armchairs on the other end of the living room.

Though, once Mingi and Yunho enter not too much later, Yeosang tenses up unexpectedly.

Even though the back of the couch faces the entrance of the living room, Yeosang is sitting propped up and makes immediate eye contact with Mingi. He notices the situation presenting before him, and scoffs to himself with no amusement behind it either. Yeosang doesn't say anything, only tearing his gaze away and focusing on Wooyoung who's snoring softly against his chest.

Soft chatters fill the otherwise silent living room as they await for San's return from filling the van up with gas. Everyone's limbs are still filled with lead after the previous night, and having to wake up this early on their vacation isn't helping. Yeosang can't help but feel guilty for some reason, even though he knows it's with the intent of his friends returning home as soon as possible.

"I'm really glad you guys had a good time. Thank you, again." Yeosang is truly grateful that his friends were able to come visit him, even if it was in the middle of their holiday breaks.

"Of course, Yeosang. It felt really good to see you after so long." Seonghwa is sitting at the end of the couch near Yeosang's feet, his knees tucked up to his chest. "And to see you becoming yourself again after… Everything…"

He notices the way Seonghwa catches his words and shifts his gaze down towards Wooyoung. It's the way Seonghwa returns his gaze to Yeosang that causes him to let out a sigh.

"I'm gonna tell them, I just—" His words fall short as he looks over and finds the rest of them staring directly at him. "I can't ever find a good time, and I don't want them to see me any differently."

Without realizing, his fingers began combing through Wooyoung's dark locks as a form of stress relief. The younger man stirs subtly, only to nestle his head further up into the crook of Yeosang's neck. It feels almost too intimate, especially in front of his friends, but he can't deny the rather addicting warmth spreading throughout his chest currently.

"I don't think it would be like that…" Seonghwa admits rather softly, voice barely above a whisper, eyes falling back down to where he can see a smile spreading across Wooyoung's face.

Not too much later does San finally return to the farmhouse and helps everyone load their belongings into the van. He seems much more awake, unlike his other half who does not want to get off of Yeosang. There's much of a protest given by Wooyoung, but ultimately, San ends up picking him up and plopping him down on the other end of the couch. Everyone who watches can't help but chuckle over how unserious the situation is.

"I'll wait here," San says after Yeosang's friends climb out of the back of the van, leaving just the two of them up front momentarily. "So you can have some time with just them before they go."

It's a sweet gesture, especially considering there hadn't been much time where neither San nor Wooyoung were present. Any time they went into town, or one of the neighboring towns, San offered to drive them for the sake of convenience. If not that, they were at the farm house where the couple also live. It's not that Yeosang didn't want them there, but he understand what San is getting at. They're Yeosang's friends after all, and probably want some time with just him. Even if it's only for the fifteen minutes they have until the train pulls up to the station.

"I'll be back soon!" Yeosang cheers as he hops out of the van, mimicking the smile San offers him in return.

Once they're all on the train platform once again, Yeosang feels odd to be the one staying behind afterwards. While he had missed his friends dearly, he didn't realize how emotional it would be sending them off. Is this how they felt sending Yeosang off all those months ago? At least they had each other then. Yeosang will have to walk back to the van by himself, even if San will be sat inside waiting for his return. It's a strange feeling.

"This is probably a stupid question," Hongjoong randomly brings up, all of their eyes landing on the confused expression he has. "But are San and Wooyoung together?"

"Hongjoong! I told you not to—" Seonghwa smacks at his arm but gets interjected by Hongjoong who scoffs louder than he intended to.

"What? I know what you said, but I still haven't figured it out on my own, thank you very much!"

Yeosang chuckles as he watches them bicker. Maybe they are like mom and dad after all, just not as aggressive and constant.

"Yeah, they're together." Yeosang answers simply. "I only realized a couple weeks ago, though. So I don't blame Hongjoong for not being able to tell either. They don't really act like a couple."

Even though Hongjoong's confusion had been cleared for only a moment, it comes back after the last statement Yeosang brings to the table. "No, it's not that—they very much do act like a couple—it's just—"

Once again, Seonghwa cuts off his sentence with a smack to the arm and stares at him sternly. "Hongjoong!"

There's something about the look in Seonghwa's eyes that deters the man for only a couple of seconds before he ends up finishing his thought anyway.

"They're very affectionate towards you too, Yeosang. That's why I wasn't sure."

Everyone's eyes land on Hongjoong again, but only his land on Yeosang's. There's something hidden behind the gaze, but he can't determine what.

"Oh…" Yeosang responds with flatly. "I think that's just how they are though? They're from the south, so maybe that's just how everyone is down there."

Hongjoong stares back at him with blinking eyes, his mouth opening and closing a few times before ultimately remaining closed. Mingi snickers as he turns his head to face the opposite direction. Meanwhile Seonghwa and Yunho both bring their hands to their faces while sighing expansively.

Did he miss something?

The topic switches to something else right after, but Yeosang still feels stranded.

Did San and Wooyoung really act that much like a couple for his friends to question their relationship status after only a few days? Meanwhile it took Yeosang months to even realize, but only because he overheard Wooyoung call San his boyfriend. He was going through a lot, and still actively is, to properly pay attention.

Even then, are they really just as affectionate towards Yeosang as Hongjoong pointed out? He really does think that's just how their personalities are. Though, he isn't sure if he's seen them act that way towards any one else on the farm. Actually, Yeosang doesn't really pay attention to how they interact with anyone else on the farm.

Why does any of this matter?

It doesn't.

"Yeosang?"

One of his friends calls out, but he was too lost in thought to pay attention to their conversation. "Huh?"

"Um." It was Yunho. "Maybe next time you can come visit us?"

Oh.

They're all glancing through anxious filled eyes, awaiting for his response.

To be honest, he's never thought about returning to the city, at least any time soon. Not even because of how much disdain he grew for the place, simply because he was enjoying all of his time on the farm. Especially when San and Wooyoung are always finding different things for them to do around town as well, or even while at home. Of course, the city has probably a million and one more things to offer, but Yeosang always hated going out for the night while he lived there. Too many people he didn't know, even if his friends or ex-fiancée were by his side.

"You could always bring San and Wooyoung with. They're really fun to be around, and I'm sure they'd enjoy it too." Yunho adds when Yeosang still hasn't answered.

Too.

They would probably enjoy it more than Yeosang, to be quite honest.

Every time San talks about the times he would go with Jongho down to the city, Yeosang couldn't comprehend just how excited he was to see skyscrapers and electronic billboards. Even Wooyoung seemed enthralled by just the concept of having to hail for a taxi, something Yeosang always hated doing.

Maybe going back to the city with them wouldn't be as terrible.

"I'll think about it…" He finally answers, hesitancy more than noticeable in his tone. "I'm sure they'd enjoy it, though."

Yunho offers a gentle smile in return, the expression bleeding onto everyone else's faces as well.

Before anyone can get another word out, a train horn sounds in the near distance, and the physical train can be seen making its approach towards the station.

A hallow sensation finds itself clearing a path in Yeosang's chest.

The past couple of days have been more fun than he was honestly expecting, but there's something wrong he can't place his finger on. It's not the same emotion he felt when it had been him hopping on the train all those months ago. It's similar, but this feels more harrowing. Back then, he was beyond anxious, but now, anxiety doesn't come anywhere near him. Something else does this time, but he doesn't recognize it.

"We'll text you when we all get home, okay?" Seonghwa says as he's smothering Yeosang in one last hug. He tries to respond, but it only comes out as a strangled muffle against his friend's shoulder.

And with that, Yeosang watches as the train attendants close the vestibule doors only moments before the train rips away from the station.

When he enters the van again, San immediately turning as far as he can in the drivers seat, Yeosang remains rather quiet. He wordlessly buckles his seatbelt and faces forward, feeling the heat of San's gaze on the side of his profile. A hand lands carefully atop his left knee. Then, there's a gentle squeeze. "Are you okay?"

It comes from San's lips so softly, that Yeosang almost misses it.

"I don't know, but it doesn't feel like it." There's another squeeze to his knee afterwards.

The lack of sleep is starting to catch up to him on the drive back to the farm. Without his friends to fill the silence, and with San's soft, melodious humming, Yeosang finds his lids growing heavier and heavier. Every now and then, he has to shake his to keep himself from completely falling asleep. Even though they all have the rest of the day off, and the farm is now closed for the rest of the month, Yeosang doesn't want to ruin his sleep patterns with a mid-day nap. That, and he wants to be awake in case any of his friends need him for any reason.

Much to their surprise, Wooyoung is awake and alert when San and Yeosang enter the farmhouse. They can hear a movie playing from the living room, and can even see it as the two stand in the entrance. Wooyoung, who had heard the front door open and close, is already sitting on the couch with his head turned completely behind him. "You guys are back already?"

Before either of them can even answer the younger man's question, he's up and off of the couch in a matter of seconds, jogging over to where his two roommates stand. Wooyoung's still in his pajamas, which Yeosang can't even blame him for, which he's practically drowning in. Yeosang recognizes the shirt as one of San's, but the pants are most likely a pair of Wooyoung's. Either way, he looks entirely warm and comfy on this cold, winters day.

Once he's immediately in front of them, Wooyoung wastes no time in pressing a quick, chaste kiss upon San's cheek.

But what Yeosang doesn't expect is one for himself directly afterwards. The warmth from Wooyoung's lips radiates from his cheek to the rest of his face.

His eyes widen, and he half expects San to scold Wooyoung, but when Yeosang looks over, he's only greeted with a smitten expression painting the man's face.

Huh?

"Gosh, I hung that up so long ago, but neither of you have stood underneath of it until now." Wooyoung groans and points to above them in the framing of the entrance, where a lonely piece of mistletoe hangs gingerly.

Has that seriously been there the whole time? Yeosang really needs to open his eyes more.

He remembers the day Wooyoung was hanging up all of the decorations, though, and he really doesn't remember a stalk of mistletoe being one of them.

"You're so cute when you lie, Young-ah." San chirps and pinches Wooyoung's cheek. "I saw you hang that up yesterday."

"What—no! I hung it up with the rest of the decorations a few weeks ago!" His face is beginning to turn red as he defends his honor. Then, he turns to Yeosang. "Right, Sangie? You watched me hang everything up!"

"Actually, I don't remember mistletoe being one of the decorations, but—"

"See!" San cuts him off, but the excitement in his voice from proving Wooyoung wrong is rather adorable, so he lets it slide.

Wooyoung finally admits defeat and crosses his arms over his chest. "Fine! I hung it up yesterday, but either way, I got to give you two a kiss, so I still win in the end."

Rather dramatically, he lets out a humph and turns to head back to the couch, presumably to continue the movie he has playing. From the looks of it, it seems like one of those cliche Hallmark films, where a business woman ends up in a small town, falls for one of the townsmen, and even quits her job to marry him and start a family there. To be honest, Yeosang never understood the appeal behind them. Every Christmas, his ex-fiancée would binge-watch them, and cry over each and every one, even though they all contained the same mediocre acting and quite boring storyline.

"Sangie, come watch!" Wooyoung calls over to Yeosang who's still lingering in between the living room and the entryway to the farmhouse.

Looking back, maybe there's a reason why his ex-fiancée enjoyed watching those kinds of movies.

Now's not the time to figure out a deeper meaning for something Yeosang is probably making up in his head again. Not when there's Wooyoung patiently waiting for him to sit between the obvious space left between him and San.

Somehow, Yeosang ends up falling asleep despite his previous intentions not to.

The last thing he remembers is Wooyoung mentioning something about how the main character in the movie is too oblivious for her own good, and how San's fingertips were gently scratching against his scalp like they always seem to do as of late.

By the time he opens his eyes again, the movie has ended and the smart T.V. has blackened from lack of activity. He goes to stretch his arms, hoping to release the accidental sleep from his bones, but an obstacle prevents that from happening. Against his right shoulder, lays San melted into the crook of his neck. Then, on curled up against his lap, as if he has become an actual cat, is Wooyoung. All while Yeosang still remains upright, but only slumped forward just the slightest bit. There's a strain in his neck from the poor posture, but that's the least of his concerns at the moment.

Neither man show any sign of waking from their slumbers, putting Yeosang in quite the precarious situation. While he's in no rush to remove himself from the comfort of his roommates, there's only so long he could possibly sit in this position while conscious. That, and even though the sun is still shining bright through the drawn-closed curtains, it's impossible to know the time.

Have his friends made it back to the city yet?

In front of him, on the coffee table, Yeosang spies his phone, screen blackened from lack of activity as well. If only he could just reach out and tap the screen without waking either man on top of him. A sigh escapes through his nostrils as he contemplates which action could bring him success.

Ultimately, the one he chooses does not bring him any success in keeping the men tucked into their peaceful slumbers.

As gracefully as he can, Yeosang pushes himself forward, bringing San with him in the movement, and careening over top of Wooyoung's head. The only issue is that one hand is trapped underneath of Wooyoung's side, meanwhile the other one remains cradled by San's own two. Now that he's leaning forward, closer to his phone, Yeosang realizes there's physically no way for him to actually reach out and grab at the device.

Defeatedly, Yeosang collapses with his back against the couch, not being gentle with the man still burrowed against his neck. A groan can be heard from San, who begins to stir against Yeosang, slowly becoming unstuck from the man's side.

"Sang-ah?" San asks softly, his voice thick with sleep and eyes still closed shut. In the brief moment that San's grasp loosens against Yeosang, he contemplates grabbing at his phone now, but it's too late as San immediately glues himself back onto Yeosang's arm. "Don' go…"

"Sorry, San. I was trying to grab my phone…" Yeosang whispers as to not disturb Wooyoung, who thankfully remains in the same position as he was found in moments prior.

The younger man doesn't respond and simply returns to his previous state of being, leaving Yeosang in the same situation he first awoke to.

Despite the lack of sleep from the night before, sleep doesn't come back to him like it did for San.

Instead, his head works overtime in sorting through everything that's happened in the past couple of days. Jongho would be happy to see him taking the time to do so, even if it's quite literally the only thing he can do in this situation.

There's a lot to unpack.

It's true that Yeosang has felt better in the past few days than he's ever felt in his whole life. There's no doubt about it. Being reunited with his best friends again rekindled a spirit deep within him that had gone dormant this whole time. Sure, being around San and Wooyoung have helped him with his journey so far, but they're in their own separate compartment it seems. Somehow, though, all six of them being near Yeosang doubled the flame, and he's felt more alive in ways he's ever experienced before.

Everything was great, despite the way it felt like Yeosang was walking on tightrope trying to get closer to Mingi throughout the trip.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong felt like walking through a park.

With Yunho, maybe on a windy day.

But with Mingi it seemed as though he didn't want to be in the park, and purposefully split the world and put a river between them.

It wasn't until the last day he finally confirmed why, watching as the bridge he laid across the river seemingly set ablaze on its own accord.

Even if it wasn't intentional, Yeosang is entirely to blame if the bridge burns entirely to ash, crumbling and dissolving into the rushing currents of the raging river beneath itself. It's only a matter of how long the fire burns before it extinguishes itself over time, or until someone puts a stop to it.

The match had been struck during their conversation, and at some point, Mingi flung it in the middle between them, carrying the weight of the words that have sat heavy in Yeosang's mind since the previous night.

The rift had been there the entire time, Yeosang only had his back turned, oblivious to it all. Only, the construction of the bridge had begun far too late as Mingi had already been fiddling with the pack of matches in his hand, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

It's too late, he keeps telling himself. Mingi's moved on. Not that it would even make a difference if he hadn't—Yeosang couldn't…

San shifts against his shoulder, mumbling something incoherent into the crook of Yeosang's neck. Wooyoung has shifted ever so slightly onto his back, legs folding upwards in the process.

While running away had been the only part of his plan, Yeosang hadn't intended to actually befriend anyone he met on the journey. Now, he's more than glad to have become closer to San and Wooyoung, even if it is rather intimidating with how easily they've intertwined themselves into his life.

They've dug a place into his mind and now Yeosang struggles to go even a day without concerning himself for either of his roommates well beings. Something he's never found easy to do with just anyone. When Seonghwa had quickly become a constant in his life after starting college, Yeosang struggled with allowing the older man into his rigid-fortress walls. It became easier with each person who approached the gatehouse. After everything that happened, Yeosang expected San and Wooyoung to go through something similar, but it seemed as though his fortified walls had been weaker than he assumed.

As they lie against him, Yeosang worries his brows and chews on his bottom lip.

How close is too close?

In the moment, Yeosang didn't understand Hongjoong's comment—about them being as affection towards him as they are with each other—but now it's slowly piecing itself together as the cogs keep spinning in his head.

The way Wooyoung has always been just as touchy with Yeosang as he is with San.

The way San smiles at him with those crescent-shaped eyes like he does with Wooyoung.

The way they're both sound asleep on him like they do with each other.

"Sorry I missed your call," Yeosang apologizes, his phone pressed firmly against the shell of his ear. "I dozed off earlier and couldn't find my phone afterwards. Are you guys all back at home now?"

At some point, his phone was ringing on the coffee table, but all Yeosang could do was watch it go to voicemail as San still clung to his side, and Wooyoung curled further into his lap, arms eventually snaking around his waist.

"It's all good. I figured you must have been busy or something—but yeah, we're all home now." Seonghwa responds, his voice sounding somewhat far away from the phone.

"Ah, that's good…" He exhales. There's a humming coming from the other side of the call, meanwhile there's a ringing against Yeosang's skull. "Did you guys know?"

It comes out rather abruptly, but for Yeosang the question has been on his mind for hours now.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

He closes his eyes and pinches his brows. "Um—about Mingi's… Feelings. Did you all know?"

Seonghwa falls silent for a second, "Oh… I'm guessing he talked to you?"

Of course he did. Seonghwa is smart, so what kind of question— "Yeah, he did. So I'll take that as a yes then."

Every point Yeosang had mapped out for this conversation is pulled off the wall. There's no point in this conversation anymore. He found his answer, so he can hang up now.

"Even Yunho?" He hears himself ask.

"I don't—I'm not sure…" Seonghwa's motherly tone has found its way into the conversation. "I think he's been too head over heels with Mingi to ever notice."

Somehow that makes everything worse.

This is all too fucked up for Yeosang to deal with right now.

It's a good thing his sessions with Jongho won't resume until after the New Year, otherwise he'd have to confront this much sooner.

So for now he allows everything to sit on the same back burner, idling at a low heat. So it won't burn, or overflow, or go anywhere. It'll sit there peacefully for the next week or two until Jongho makes his way back into town.