Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The bell above the flower shop door chimed softly. A gentle chime, like porcelain touching glass.

Kim Sunoo had decided long ago that it was his favorite sound in the world.

It meant the day was still moving. It meant the world was still warm. It meant he was alive.

Late afternoon in Osaka, Japan, the sunlight poured through the wide windows of Fleur d’Sunki, casting warm gold over neatly arranged rows of carnations, lavender, and hydrangeas. The petals glowed like small paper lanterns scattered across a shrine.

The shop smelled of sweet earth. Wet stems, cold water, and the faintest citrus from the diffuser Jungwon insisted on keeping near the counter.

Sunoo worked at the wooden island in the center, slender fingers wrapping a bouquet of pale pink ranunculus. His apron, cream linen embroidered with lavender, was dusted with bits of pollen and fragile green smears. He worked with precision, but there was softness in his every movement. As if his body remembered the rhythm before his mind did.

“Baby,” a smooth voice called from near the refrigerator. “Do we still have white tulips? A customer wants to customize an anniversary bouquet.”

Sunoo blinked up and smiled.

Ni-ki stood with a clipboard tucked under one arm, hair loosely tied back. Though younger, he’s taller than anyone Sunoo knew. His limbs long, his shoulders broad, and his features sharpened by age. But his eyes remained the same: deep, earnest, and unable to hide even a sliver of emotion.

“The tulips are in the far back,” Sunoo said, pointing with the ribbon between his fingers. “Top shelf.”

Ni-ki nodded, but he didn’t move. Instead, he leaned into the counter, gaze softening in that way that always made Sunoo’s cheeks heat.

“You look tired,” Ni-ki murmured.

Sunoo tied the ribbon carefully. “I’m fine. Just busy.”

“People come because they love the shop,” Ni-ki said. “But they stay because of you.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “You’re exaggerating.”

Ni-ki didn’t reply.

He rarely did whenever he slipped the truth into a joke.

Before Sunoo could say more, the bell chimed again.

“Sunoo-ah! Ni-ki!”

Jungwon’s voice burst into the shop like a warm breeze.

He stepped inside, stretching dramatically. “I survived another day at the office! Traffic was a war zone.”

His bag hit a chair with a heavy thud.

Jungwon was the type to look clean even after running through a thunderstorm, soft blue button-down perfectly tucked, charcoal slacks unwrinkled, hair parted neatly. He moved like someone with purpose. Confidence clung to him like a well-tailored coat.

Ni-ki snorted. “You say that every single day.”

“Because it’s always true,” Jungwon retorted, then moved closer when he spotted Sunoo’s wrapped bouquet. “Is that for the cat lady?”

Sunoo nodded, smiling. “She was afraid ranunculus might be poisonous for her boyfriend’s cat.”

Jungwon laughed loudly. “Who buys flowers for someone who lives with a monster cat?!”

“People in love do stupid things,” Ni-ki muttered.

Jungwon arched a brow. “Is that personal experience talking?”

Ni-ki’s ears turned red instantly.

Sunoo didn’t notice. He was too busy adding baby’s breath to the bouquet. But Jungwon did. And he filed it away silently.

He remembered what Heeseung once told him late at night on a crackly phone call:

“Ni-ki waited for Sunoo far longer than any of us expected. Maybe longer than he even realizes.”

Jungwon shook off the thought and hopped onto a stool, watching the two men tend to flowers with a rhythm he’d grown fond of.

“You two look like you’ve been running this place for decades,” Jungwon said warmly.

“We have been,” Ni-ki grumbled.

“It’s only been four months,” Sunoo corrected, amused.

Ni-ki lowered his gaze. “Still feels long.”

They worked through the afternoon crowd together. Sunoo’s gentle voice, Ni-ki’s efficient movements, Jungwon’s bright commentary. It all wove into a domestic harmony.

But beneath it… Sunoo felt an odd pressure.

Like a breath he couldn’t release.Like a memory he almost held but couldn’t grasp. Every time he looked at the daisy display, something tugged at his chest. Small, quiet, but persistent.

“Sunoo-ah,” Jungwon said as he slouched against the counter. “Any plans tonight? Ni-ki forced me to take a day off tomorrow so we can clean the shop.”

Ni-ki glared. “I didn’t force you! You said you’d help.”

“Same thing.”

Sunoo laughed lightly, the sound bright. “I’m free. Let’s have dinner. My treat.”

Ni-ki’s expression softened instantly. “Baby, you don’t need to do that.”

“I want to,” Sunoo said, and Ni-ki’s heart nearly tripped over itself.

Jungwon stretched. “If you insist… who am I to refuse free food?”

“Shameless,” Ni-ki muttered

--------------------------------------------------------------

After another wave of customers, the shop quieted.

Sunoo dusted his hands. “Hey, can I ask something?”

Ni-ki stiffened. Jungwon straightened in one instant.

“Sure,” Jungwon said carefully.

“Back in college…” Sunoo hesitated, thumb brushing the stem of a daisy. “Were we all friends then? Us three?”

Ni-ki replied too quickly. “Of course.”

“But…” Sunoo swallowed. “Were there others?”

Silence.

Even the flowers seemed to hold their breath.

Sunoo’s voice dropped. “I don’t know why, but… I feel like I’m forgetting more people. Like, why don’t we have more photos of us three?”

Ni-ki’s breath faltered.

Jungwon’s eyes darted away.

Sunoo continued, softer. “Whenever I try to remember… it’s blank. Like I’m walking into a room with all the furniture taken away.”

Ni-ki jumped in, tone too light. “Baby, you’re tired. When I don’t sleep enough, I start seeing ghosts.”

“But this feels real,” Sunoo whispered.

Jungwon forced a laugh. “You’ve remembered so much already. Don’t push yourself.”

Sunoo studied them, gaze flickering between their forced smiles.

Their too-fast answers.

Their subtle panic.

His chest tightened.

“Are you hiding something from me?” he asked gently.

Both froze.

Ni-ki plastered on a smile. “Baby… what could we possibly hide?”

“You’ve been watching too many dramas,” Jungwon added, but his voice trembled.

Sunoo didn’t press. Not because he believed them, but because their fear was obvious.

As Sunoo turned back to the daisies, the bell chimed softly again.

A cold breeze swept into the shop. A strange, tender chill that brushed past him like a memory with fingertips.

Sunoo’s hand drifted to his chest instinctively.

Ni-ki reacted instantly. “Baby? Are you okay? Does something hurt?”

Sunoo blinked the feeling away. “No… just felt weird for a second.”

Ni-ki’s shoulders dropped, relief palpable. He saw the man who entered. It wasn’t who they feared it would, because in the first place, their other friends wouldn't let that happen. Although, he smelled a specific scent from this man.

He has the same perfume as—

“You guys should close early today,” Jungwon said abruptly. “You need rest.” He looked at Ni-ki as if he knew too what triggered Sunoo

Sunoo frowned. “But—”

“Please?” Ni-ki asked, voice gentle, almost pleading. “Sir, we’re closed now” he said to the man who was confused at first but quickly complied and left the shop. The scent lingered for a bit until it was completely gone

Jungwon nodded. “We’ll handle the rest. You go shower and prepare for dinner.”

Sunoo hesitated… then smiled. “Okay. But only if we still eat together.”

Ni-ki brightened instantly. “Deal.”

Jungwon grinned. “I’ll find a nice place.”

As soon as Sunoo disappeared behind the curtain, the shop fell silent.

Ni-ki exhaled shakily. “Fucking scent, haven’t smelled that shit in a while.”

Jungwon leaned against the counter, voice low. “It only has been 4 months and expect more questions, but our excuses are getting weaker. I don’t know how much longer I can lie-”

Ni-ki’s fingers curled around the counter’s edge.

“You know we can’t stop hyung. We can’t let him remember….”

Jungwon nodded, eyes dark.

“Not when this is the first time Sunoo finally breathes without pain.”

Ni-ki swallowed hard.

“And not when it might kill him all over again.”

Sunoo hummed faintly from the backroom, unaware of the storm brewing behind him. The scent of flowers filled the space—soft, gentle.

But beneath it lay something hollow.

Something missing. Something waiting.

--------------------------------------------------------------

New York winters had a way of tearing through bone. They weren’t like Osaka’s shy, hesitant colds that Sunoo used to talk about with a gentle laugh. Soft breezes, a chill that came and went like a polite visitor. No, New York’s cold pressed into the skin with purpose, cracking knuckles, numbing ears, turning breath into smoke. The city itself felt sharpened. Steel edges, concrete corners, neon lights that buzzed like distant electricity.

Park Sunghoon stood in front of the tall windows of Jay and Jake’s shared apartment, watching the early evening settle in. Snow drifted down in restless swirls, tapping lightly against the glass before melting and joining the faint condensation.

Below, Manhattan pulsed. Cars crawling, people bundled in scarves, steam rising from subway grates like the city was exhaling.

Sunghoon wasn’t sure how long he had been staring.

Time didn’t stick to him the way it used to. It slid past without friction.

Behind him, cabinets clicked shut.

“Sunghoon,” came a voice, firm, familiar, laced with worry he never managed to hide. Sunghoon turned slightly to see Jay leaning on the kitchen counter, arms crossed, eyebrows drawn together. He wore a wool sweater too big on him and looked like he’d chosen it specifically to watch Sunghoon more comfortably.

“You’re doing it again,” Jay said, tilting his head.

Sunghoon blinked. “Doing what?”

Jay sighed like he’d practiced the motion. “Staring into the void like it personally offended you.”

Before Sunghoon could answer, chaos entered in the form of Jake.

The hallway door swung open as Jake stomped out, hair a mess, one sock missing, holding an empty yogurt container like it had betrayed him.

“Who ate my— oh.” He paused when he saw Sunghoon by the window. His face softened immediately. “Brooding?”
Jay glared. “Jake.”

“What? I’m asking nicely this time.”

Sunghoon gave a slow exhale. “I’m not brooding.”

From the couch, a new voice joined. Warm, calm, and annoyingly observant. “Well, whatever it is, it suits you.”

Heeseung walked in with two mugs of coffee, steam curling upward. He handed one to Sunghoon with an easy smile that could disarm an army.

Jake gasped dramatically. “It does suit him! Like a tragic protagonist in a winter drama. Or the beautiful prince exiled after losing his memories—”

Jay elbowed him. “Stop narrating his trauma.”

“It’s not trauma if I romanticize it!” Jake argued.

Sunghoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear, one day—”

Heeseung sat on the armrest of the armchair nearest him. “What’s on your mind?”

Sunghoon held the mug between his hands. The ceramic was warm. His fingers weren’t.

“It’s nothing.” Sunghoon took it but didn’t drink immediately. His eyes narrowed, searching their faces.

“Who… was with us during the last festival in Seoul?” he asked suddenly.

All three froze.It was small—barely even a shift, but Sunghoon felt it. The stillness of held breath.

Heeseung was the first to speak, too quickly.

“Just us. The four of us. You don’t remember?”

Jay added, “We were exhausted. You always forget events when they’re packed. Nothing weird.”

Jake forced a laugh. “Why? Did you dream something? Must’ve been the jet lag.”

But Sunghoon wasn’t convinced.

He felt the emptiness. A person. Shaped hollow beside every memory he tried to replay. Like a smile missing from a photo. A voice cut out of a recording.

A warmth he couldn’t place.

Heeseung stepped closer, placing a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Hey… don’t push yourself. The doctor said forcing memories can cause migraines.”

“Yeah,” Jay said, eyes firm. “You’re doing fine without remembering everything.”

Jake nodded, though he couldn’t meet Sunghoon’s gaze. “Some things are better forgotten anyway.”

Some things.

Someone.

Sunghoon turned back to the window, watching a couple hold hands as they crossed the street.

A sharp pain dug into his chest.

Jake noticed the wince. “Hoon…?”

“It’s nothing,” Sunghoon whispered. “Just… feels like I’m missing someone.”

The room stiffened instantly.

Heeseung spoke softly, carefully, like handling glass.

“You’re not missing anyone. You have us. You always did.”

Sunghoon looked at him. But Heeseung wouldn't hold eye contact.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Jungwon and Ni-ki appeared through a video call on Jay's iPad. They looked tired. Too tired for a simple check-in.

“How’s Sunghoon?” Jungwon asked.

Heeseung sighed. “He asked again today. This time about the festival. He’s in his room now”

Jay added, “The longer this keeps going on, the more harder it gets. We need to be more careful.”

Ni-ki’s voice dropped. “If he remembers Sun—”

“He won’t.” Jungwon immediately cut him off.

“How about him?” Jay asked

“He’s asleep. Treated us dinner earlier but again, had too much mint choco” Ni-ki responded and that earned a chuckle from everyone

Heeseung lowered his voice, sighing. “We won’t slip. But he felt… empty today. Like he knows something’s missing.”

Jake rubbed his face tiredly. “We just have to keep him away from anything familiar. From anyone who might mention—”

Sunghoon, who had been walking down the hall, stopped. He had gotten thirsty and thought of getting a glass of cold water in the kitchen, where he didn’t now the group was facing behind him.

Something electric ran through his spine.

He stepped closer, straining to listen but stepped too close. His foot hit the edge of the hallway table, a loud knock echoing through the quiet room.

All heads snapped toward him.

Jay jumped up immediately, turned the iPad off. “Oh Sunghoon! Didn’t see you. Need something?”

Sunghoon stared at the black screen

At the boys staring back at him with too-wide eyes.

“I heard…” he began, heart racing. “You said a name. Sun-”

Heeseung shook his head fast. “Oh, it was just a coworker buddy, Sun- Sandra”

Sunghoon opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Something in their gaze. Fear and desperation told him not to ask.

So he nodded slowly.

“Right,” he whispered. “I’m going back to bed then”

But the ache in his chest burned.

Chapter Text

Sunoo was warm.

Warm in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever. A warmth that wasn’t just heat, but presence. A quiet that wrapped itself around him like a memory returning home.

He didn’t remember lying down. Didn’t remember closing his eyes. One moment he was folding towels at the shop, humming under his breath, and then...

He was here.

Here, in a room dipped in amber light, soft as dusk filtered through sheer curtains.

Here, where everything felt touched by tenderness.

A small lamp with a fox-shaped switch, a stack of dog-eared romance novels beside the bed and the faint scent of soap, and something cool like mint lingering in the air.

Sunoo lays on his stomach, cheek pressed to a pillow that smelled like citrus and winter, a scent his chest tightened at. A scent he knew, though he couldn’t place it.

His fingers moved before he had thoughts to guide them, stringing beads on an elastic thread.

Blue and white beads. Ice and penguin charms. His hands were steady, slow and gentle. Like he had done this countless times in a life he couldn’t remember.

He tied a knot and set the bracelet beside another one he hadn’t made just now.

One that was bright orange. Sun-colored beads and little fox charms.

His breath stuttered.

This… This bracelet. It meant something.

Before the thought could take shape, the door creaked.

Footsteps, soft and slow approaches

Sunoo turned and breath abandoned him.

A tall boy stepped inside, steam trailing from his damp hair. Droplets clung to his collarbone, slipping down the curve of his chest. A towel hung low around his hips, the soft rustle of fabric brushing against his skin.

Sunoo’s cheeks flushed instantly.

But deeper than embarrassment, deeper than shock. It was recognition.

He knew this silhouette. He knew the way this boy’s shoulders sloped, the calm strength in his frame, the tender warmth in the way he moved toward him without hesitation.

He knew him. His body leapt with certainty even when his mind whispered, "Who is he?"

The boy’s face, though, is blurred. Smudged like fogged glass. As if someone had erased his features with trembling fingers.

The boy grinned. Sunoo didn’t see it, but he felt it, and called his name:

“Sunoo-yah!”

Sunoo startled. “Y-yes?”

But the boy didn’t react. He just kept moving closer, voice bright with affection.

“Sunoo-yah!”

It echoed through the room, louder, warmer, like a lover’s call.

“I’m right here…” Sunoo whispered.

But the boy walked past him, as if he wasn’t even in the room.

“Sunoo-yah!” The voice cracked.

Sunoo flinched.

That tone. It wasn’t warm anymore. It was fear.

Pleading.

“HEY!” Sunoo shouted, scrambling off the bed. “I’m here! Can't you hear me?!”

But the boy’s cries only grew more frantic.

Then…

The light vanished.

The warm amber dissolved into cold, suffocating grey. As if someone had ripped the room out of a dream and plunged it into nightmare.

The boy gasped. Body collapsing, knees hitting the floor. His blurred face twisted in agony, one hand clutching the sheets, the other gripping his chest like something inside him was tearing open.

Then…

Petals.

White at first. Then blue, and then...

Red.

Blood-soaked petals bursting violently past his lips.

Sunoo’s breath shattered.

“No no, no, please—” He crawled to him, voice trembling with horror.

The boy choked harder, each cough ripping petals from his lungs, each breath a scream. His voice broke into a raw, desperate cry

“SUNOO! PLEASE—!!!”

Sunoo’s heart convulsed.

It physically hurt. Like something was cracking open inside him.

“STOP—PLEASE STOP—” he cried, reaching out.

Their fingers were inches apart. His hand trembling when everything collapsed.

Blackness swallowed him whole.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Sunoo woke with a violent choke.

His body jerked upright, chest heaving with sharp, ragged breaths. Sweat clung to his skin, cold against the dark stillness of his bedroom. The city lights outside blurred through the tears he couldn’t remember forming.

His lungs burned, so painfully it felt like he had been the one coughing out flowers.

A warm hand grabbed his shoulder.

“Baby? Baby—fuck. Sunoo—hey.”

Ni-ki’s voice.

Not blurred. Not distorted.

Real.

Sunoo collapsed against him instantly, fingers gripping Ni-ki’s shirt as if it were the only solid thing in the world.

His chest trembled with each shaky inhale.

“Ni-ki…” His voice cracked. “I— I can’t— I can’t breathe—”

Ni-ki’s arms wrapped around him in a fierce, protective hold.

Sunoo buried his face against Ni-ki’s shoulder, shaking so hard the bed frame lightly creaked beneath them.

“Hey, hey—look at me.” Ni-ki’s hand slid up to his cheek, wiping stray tears with his thumb. “You’re okay. You’re okay, baby. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Sunoo inhaled shakily.

Citrus and winter.

That familiar phantom scent. It stabbed him somewhere deep.

He clung harder, almost desperately, his nails lightly digging into Ni-ki’s back.

Ni-ki froze for a moment at the intensity, then held him even tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“You’re safe,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

But Sunoo wasn’t listening. Not fully.

Because behind his eyelids, that tall silhouette lingered. The warmth of that smile, the ache of being called Sunoo-yah like a plea. The terror of blood and flowers, the collapse of someone he shouldn’t care about… yet somehow did.

His lungs ached in a way breathing couldn’t soothe.

Why did it feel like grief? Why did it feel like he had just watched someone he loved die? Why did it feel like his heart remembered something, no, someone his mind had erased?

Sunoo’s voice trembled as he whispered into Ni-ki’s shoulder

“Why does it hurt so much…?”

And Ni-ki held him, jaw clenched, eyes dark with fear.

Because he knew exactly why.

And he knew this was only the beginning.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Sunoo sat at the small round dining table, legs tucked under him like a child seeking warmth. Steam curled gently from his mug, but he wasn’t drinking it. Just staring into the surface like it held an answer he was supposed to understand.

He hadn’t slept after the dream.

He drifted between shallow breaths until Ni-ki finally pulled him close and made him drink water, whispering to him until the rising sun bled through the curtains.

Now Ni-ki sat beside him, hair mussed, sleep lines still faint around his eyes. He tried to mask the worry, leaning back casually, yawning a little too loudly. But Sunoo knew him. Ni-ki wasn’t tired. He was terrified.

Jungwon, sitting across from them, was the opposite. Impeccably neat. Crisp shirt, tidy hair, his tie only slightly crooked. He looked put together, but Sunoo saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped the table once, then stopped, as if reminding himself not to show fear.

“So,” Jungwon began, taking a measured sip of coffee. “Tell us everything.”

The three of them lived in the same condominium building, with Jungwon residing on a different floor. Sunoo had once asked why they didn’t all just share one big place. Jungwon’s response had been immediate, dry, and absolutely mortifying

“You two are boyfriends. I refuse to share a wall with your sweet and disgusting couple activities.”

Sunoo had turned red for an hour.

Now, remembering that, he felt a faint warmth in his cheeks—but it faded quickly.

He took a breath.

“It… wasn’t just any dream.”

Ni-ki’s hand slid across the table, resting over Sunoo’s knee. Gentle. Grounding.

“Take your time, baby,” Ni-ki murmured.

Sunoo inhaled shakily.

“I was in a room. Warm. But not this place. And yet… it felt familiar.” His voice softened. “It felt like home. A home I don’t remember.”

Both Jungwon and Ni-ki went unnaturally still.

Sunoo continued, fingers trembling slightly as he lifted the mug.

“I was making a bracelet. Blue and white beads. Ice and penguin charms.. And next to it… there was another one. Orange. With sun and fox charms.”

His throat tightened painfully.

“It felt like I’d made them before. Many times.”

Jungwon’s grip on his fork faltered. Just barely, but Sunoo noticed.

“And then,” Sunoo whispered, “someone walked in.”

Ni-ki’s jaw ticked.

“He was tall. My age it looks like, or a year oldder. Fresh from the shower. He kept calling my name but I couldn’t see his face. It was blurred, like someone smeared fog over it.”

Ni-ki forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Dreams do that. Faces get weird.”

Sunoo shook his head.

“No. It wasn’t weird. It felt purposeful. Like I wasn’t meant to see him.”

The silence thickened, suffocating.

“And then he started screaming for me. Louder and louder. And then he…” Sunoo swallowed hard. “He started coughing up flowers. Blood. He was in agony. He was begging me to help him.”

Jungwon set down his coffee as if it suddenly weighed too much.

“And that’s when you woke up?”

Sunoo nodded. “I’m scared, what does this mean?”

Something unspoken passed between Jungwon and Ni-ki—fast, sharp, filled with dread.

Sunoo saw it.

His heart throbbed with frustration.

“Jungwon,” he said suddenly, staring directly at him. “Tell me who that man is.”

Jungwon straightened, palms flat against the table.

“Sunoo,” he said gently, “that room you saw… it was your old room.”

Sunoo’s breath caught. “My old room?”

“Before your parents passed,” Jungwon continued carefully. “Before you moved in with me during your first year of college.”

Sunoo blinked hard. “But I barely remember anything from that time?”

“I know,” Jungwon said quietly. “Your relatives didn’t exactly… support you. They didn’t fight to keep you. They were relieved to let you go.” Bitterness slipped into his tone. “Cowards.”

Sunoo’s chest tightened. He looked down at the table as Ni-ki rubbed his arm in slow, soothing circles.

“But you lived with me for years,” Jungwon said. “I became your family. You know that.”

Sunoo nodded, though his mind was miles away.

“And as for the guy…” Ni-ki said, forcing a light tone, “it was probably me. But with a six-pack or something.”

Sunoo frowned. “But the voice wasn’t yours.”

Ni-ki shrugged, too quickly. “Dream voices are strange.”

Jungwon stared at his coffee, expression unreadable.

Sunoo wanted to press. Wanted to demand answers. But the confusion was heavy. Exhausting.

So he whispered, “Maybe.”

Ni-ki exhaled softly, almost in relief.

Breakfast passed with fake normalcy. Jungwon complaining about clients, Ni-ki teasing him, Sunoo poking at his food without appetite. But the dream lingered, clinging to him like cold fingers around his ribs.

When they finished, Jungwon stood and grabbed his coat.

“I’ll be back around three,” he said. “Please don’t blow anything up today.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “It was one tiny fire.”

Sunoo flushed. “It was a candle! And a curtain! It wasn’t even fully burning yet—”

Jungwon smirked. “Disasters. The both of you.” He waved and left.

The apartment silenced.

Sunoo stood at the sink washing dishes. Ni-ki approached silently, slipping his arms around Sunoo’s waist from behind. Sunoo leaned back instinctively, letting Ni-ki’s warmth anchor him.

“You okay?” Ni-ki whispered, chin resting on his shoulder.

Sunoo exhaled. “I think so. It just… felt so real.”

Ni-ki pressed a soft kiss to his neck. “Dreams can feel real. But I’m here. You’re safe.”

Sunoo nodded.

Ni-ki held him tighter. Longer. As if afraid Sunoo might disappear if he loosened his grip.

Eventually he grabbed the car keys. “Come on, baby. Let’s go to the shop.”

Sunoo dried his hands and followed him into the hallway.

But the moment the elevator doors slid open, cold winds brushed his cheek.

And everything inside him tightened.

His lungs burned. That desperate voice echoed again. That blurred boy reached out from the dark corners of his memory.

Crying. Choking.

Calling his name like a final lifeline.

Sunoo pressed a hand over his chest, breath trembling.

Who are you?

--------------------------------------------------------------

Jay shook Sunghoon awake with a firm tap on the shoulder—not rough, but urgent.

“Get up, man. It’s ten.”

Sunghoon peeled open his eyes. Everything was blurry. The room, Jay, even the sunlight filtering through the blinds like thin strips of gold. His hair stuck out in chaotic angles, his cheek pressed against the pillow he barely remembered falling asleep on.

“Ten?” His voice was hoarse. “Already?”

Jay nodded, arms crossing over his chest. “Yeah. And before you ask, yes, you need to get up today.”

His tone carried a steel edge, but underneath it was something softer. Worry. Maybe love, the brotherly kind.

“Look,” Jay said, shifting his weight, “it’s been four months since the accident. Four months since we moved to Manhattan. You’re walking around fine. You’re talking fine. You’re doing better. So… maybe it’s time to get your life moving again?”

He didn’t say “We’re barely making rent”.
He didn’t say “We’re scared you’ll fall apart.”
He didn’t say “We miss the old you so much it hurts.”

He didn’t need to.

Sunghoon swallowed past a lump in his throat. He wasn’t naive. He knew how tight things were. Four fresh graduates crammed into a Manhattan condo? It was a miracle they hadn’t been evicted.

“Yeah,” he murmured, sitting up slowly. “I know. I’ll… try today.”

Jay’s shoulders loosened. Some tension melted from his face.

“Good,” he said quietly. “You don’t know how nice it is to hear that. You’re ready now, Hoon.”

Sunghoon wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe he wasn’t just a dead weight the boys carried around out of loyalty. His amnesia hadn’t wiped out his intelligence—he still remembered formulas, theories, skills.

Just… not the people. Not the college years he supposedly shared with them. Not the faces of the boys he once loved like brothers.

He showered quickly, letting the warm water ground him. He got dressed neatly. Jay ironed the shirt for him yesterday when he thought Sunghoon wasn’t looking and went out after breakfast.

He had emailed companies earlier that morning. But walk-ins felt more personal, more real. More like he was trying.

He walked through Manhattan for hours. The city buzzed, impatient and loud. He handed out résumés, filled out forms, answered the same set of questions like a script he’d memorized.

By 1PM, he sat in a quiet café, eating a cheap sandwich and marking potential employers on his phone and by 4PM, he only had one place left.

One of the biggest landscape-architecture firms in New York. Prestigious. Sleek. Way too fancy for someone like him. someone with memory holes big enough to swallow his past life whole.

But he went.

The lobby alone felt like walking into a museum. The interview room was bright and modern. The interviewer, polished and poised, flipped through his resume with thoughtful eyes.

“You’re a recent graduate,” she said. “But your conceptual work… it’s strong.”

“Thank you,” Sunghoon replied, nervous but steady.

“One thing you should know,” she continued, leaning forward slightly, “is that we often send new hires to assist in our overseas projects. Exposure is part of our development program.” Her eyes flicked up to his. “Would you be open to that?”

Overseas. Travel. A fresh start.

And also… a risk. A massive one. His condition wasn’t exactly something people encouraged for international travel.

But money was money. And this job paid a lot more than anything he had seen today.

He swallowed. “Where… where would the assignment be?”

She smiled. A small, pleasant curve of lips.

“Japan.”

His heart cracked open in his chest.

The word hit him too hard. Too fast. Like something inside him had been asleep for years and suddenly jolted upright in panic.

Japan.

He’d never been there. Never talked about it. Never even cared for it more than a passing interest.

Yet…

Something inside him knew that name means a lot

Like a door slammed open inside his mind. Like a memory he couldn’t access trying to claw its way out.

Then the pain struck. A sharp flash behind his eyes, stabbing behind his temples. He winced and pressed a hand against his forehead, fingers trembling.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her calm demeanor cracking with genuine concern.

He forced a nod. “Yeah… yes, I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t.

Why did Japan feel like a word drenched in meaning? Why did it feel like a place he had hurt in? Loved in? Lived in?

Or lost something in?

He took steady breaths, trying to anchor himself.

After a few more questions, the interviewer leaned back with a satisfied expression.

“Well, Mr. Park,” she said warmly, “we’d like to offer you the position.”

Sunghoon froze.

He hadn’t expected that. Not from a top-tier company. Not as a walk-in. Not as someone with missing pieces.

Warmth spread through his chest. Hope, disbelief, excitement. For the first time in months, he felt a future coming into focus.

“I… accept,” he said, breathless.

“Congratulations,” she said, standing to shake his hand. “Welcome.”

His hand shook slightly when he took hers.

He walked out of the building with the contract in his bag, heart pounding.

He did it.

A real job. Real pay. A real future.

But Japan echoed in his head.

Japan.
Japan.
Japan.

Something pulled at him. Deep, aching, ancient. Like he had left something there. Or someone.

Whatever came next… he’d face it.

He only prayed Jay, Heeseung, and Jake wouldn’t lose their minds when they heard the news.
But knowing them?

He was absolutely screwed.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck, Hoon! What were you thinking?!” Jay’s voice cracked like a whip through the apartment.

His hands were shaking, clenched so tight the tendons stood out like wires under his skin. A vein pulsed violently at his temple. He stood with his arms crossed, no, barricaded across his chest. As if he could physically hold the world together by force alone.

Sunghoon kept his expression calm, but his jaw twitched. “Jay, please. I know what I’m doing. I can handle this.”

“Handle?” Heeseung scoffed as he paced, steps sharp, restless, like walking was the only thing preventing him from exploding. “You can barely handle New York’s subway system!”

Jake groaned into his palms, fingers digging into his hair. “Sunghoon… this is really dangerous for you, you’re aware of that right?”

Sunghoon gestured to the room, to the three of them forming a triangle of panic around him. “Look at you guys right now! Don't treat me like I'm a fucking child.”

“We’re not treating you like a child,” Heeseung said, voice cracking despite his attempt to sound firm. “We’re your family. Of course we’re worried!”

“I know you care!” Sunghoon snapped back, volume rising before he could stop it. “But I’m not helpless. I need to… to move. I can’t stay stuck forever!”

Jake forced himself to breathe before speaking. “Okay. Tell us everything. Start from the beginning.”

Sunghoon nodded stiffly, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired. Tired of tiptoeing around their worry, tired of suffocating under concern disguised as protection.

“It’s a top-tier firm. They want me on project rotations. Good exposure, good pay. They’ll cover my housing. First assignment is in Japan and—”

Jay’s head snapped up so violently it looked painful. “Japan?!”

Sunghoon blinked, thrown by the sudden intensity. “Yeah? Why is that—”

Jake froze. His lips parted, but no words came out. His eyes glistened too quickly.

Heeseung’s hand landed on Jake’s shoulder instinctively steadying him, grounding him.

Something cold slid down Sunghoon’s spine.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

Nobody answered.

The silence pressed in on him, thick and suffocating. Jay stared at the floor. Jake stared at nothing. Heeseung’s jaw worked as if he were swallowing words he wasn’t allowed to say.

Minutes crawled by.

Finally Jay muttered, voice low and dangerous, “This isn’t happening. Give me the company’s contact, I'll get this contract terminated tonight.”

“No!” Sunghoon lunged forward, grabbing Jay’s arm. His heart pounded so violently he thought he might throw up. “Don’t you dare! don’t you fucking dare!”

“You’re putting yourself in danger!” Jay exploded back. “Do you even hear yourself?! This whole plan—this whole thing—it’s reckless and you know it!”

Sunghoon stepped back, chest heaving. “I’m trying, okay?! You keep telling me to move forward. To live again. I’m finally doing it and now you’re trying to stop me?”

Jake let out a choked breath, voice tight. “It’s not that simple, Hoon…”

“It is simple,” Sunghoon insisted. “I’ll be fine once I’m there. If traveling is the only danger, then I’ll be careful. I’ll update you constantly. I’ll call, text—whatever you want.” He swallowed hard. “I just… need this. I need to rebuild myself.”

Another pause. Then, quietly, achingly, Sunghoon admitted

“And earlier, when they said Japan… I felt comfort? Familiarity? Like I’ve been waiting to go there my whole life. I don’t know why. I just… felt like I was supposed to be there.”

That finally broke them.

Jake’s tears slipped down. Heeseung turned away, wiping his face. Jay pressed a fist against his mouth as if fighting against the urge to scream.

Sunghoon stared at them, throat tightening.

“What… what the fuck is happening? Why are you all like this? Why won’t you explain?”

Heeseung approached him carefully, like one wrong move would shatter the whole room. “Hoon… this is a lot. Too fast. Too unexpected. We’re just trying to process.”

“And I’m trying to understand,” Sunghoon whispered.

Jake placed a hand on his shoulder, warm and shaky. “We’re happy for you,” Jake said, even though his voice sounded like heartbreak. “We are. It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Sunghoon whispered.

Jay didn’t answer.

And something in Sunghoon cracked quietly and painfully because he realized this wasn’t just about him leaving. It wasn’t even about safety.

It was fear.

Deep, old fear.

Fear that they knew something he didn’t.

His hands trembled. “I thought you guys… would support me.”

Jake squeezed his shoulder. “We do. Always. But this… Japan—it’s…”

A ghost. A memory. A past life they couldn’t talk about.

Jay’s voice was barely above a whisper. “This is going to hurt. All of us.”

Sunghoon swallowed hard. He didn’t understand.

But somewhere deep inside, something resonated.

Something old, something aching, something unnamed.

A chill ran down his spine.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Jay waited, ear pressed to the hallway, until he heard Sunghoon’s bedroom door click shut. Only then did he release the breath he’d been holding. Shaky, uneven, barely held together. Jake looked ghost-pale, his eyes swollen. Heeseung wasn’t any better, shoulders tense, hand still trembling from the argument.

None of them could sleep. Not like this. Not with the weight of Japan crushing their chests.

So the three slipped out of the room and headed for the kitchen area, suffocating silence where a video call awaits.

Jay pressed the video call button. The screen rang once… twice…

Ni-ki picked up, hair messy, blanket over his lap, eyes still half closed.

“You guys look like you witnessed a murder,” Ni-ki joked weakly.

None of them smiled.

Jungwon, who had his hair tied up and looked freshly showered, instantly felt his stomach drop. “Hey what happened? Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

They stepped inside the camera frame quietly… too quietly.

And Ni-ki, even half-asleep, felt it like a punch to the gut.

He sat up straight, blanket falling off his lap. “What’s wrong?”

Jay swallowed hard. “…Sunghoon got hired.”

Jungwon blinked. “Oh that’s good! I mean he’s finally—”

“…in Japan,” Jay finished.

The room froze.

Ni-ki shot up so fast the blanket flew to the floor. “WHAT?!”

Jake frantically waved his hands. “Shh! Isn’t Sunoo asleep too?”

Ni-ki lowered his volume, but the fury in his voice trembled like a struck wire. “You’re telling me you LET him take a job overseas?! In JAPAN?! Are you guys insane?!”

Jungwon reached out to him, trying to steady him. “Ni-ki, calm down, calm down. Japan is big. It doesn’t mean they’ll meet. It’s not—”

“Where in Japan?” Ni-ki demanded, voice low, dangerous.

Silence.

A heavy, dreadful silence.

Heeseung finally inhaled. “…Kyoto.”

Ni-ki’s jaw fell open.

Then he whispered, voice shaking with rage—

“Kyoto is so close! That’s a train ride away not a different universe! Of all prefectures—”

Jungwon sank onto the armchair, rubbing his forehead. “This is really happening…”

Heeseung nodded weakly. “He starts next week.”

Ni-ki paced the living room, hands clawing through his hair, panic dripping off him.

“This is bad. This is REALLY bad. What if—”

Jake cut him off quickly, firmly. He took a breath, trying to steady himself.

“Listen… the chances are small. Sunoo isn’t out much. He’s at home. The flower shop. Osaka. That’s it.” Jake lifted his brows. “You two don’t plan on taking him anywhere else, right?”

Ni-ki and Jungwon exchanged a look and it wasn’t just guilt or worry.

It was fear.

“Right,” Jungwon said finally. “We keep him close. No day trips, no random vacations. We’ll make excuses if we have to.”

Jay leaned back on the couch, covering his face with both hands. “But even with that… chances aren’t zero.”

Ni-ki stopped pacing. He leaned against the wall, eyes dimming, voice low and raw.

“And what if they do run into each other? What if they… recognize each other? Even a little? What if—”

His voice cracked. He didn’t finish.

He didn’t need to.

Heeseung’s throat tightened. “We can’t let them suffer again. I can’t go through that again.”

“We just—” Jungwon’s voice wavered, trembling at the edges. “We just got them stable… both of them. If they meet…” He swallowed hard. “I’m scared they’ll break in ways we can’t fix. Again”

Jay stared at the screen. His eyes were glassy despite how hard he fought to keep them dry.

“They might destroy themselves again,” he whispered.

Silence hit the room like a tidal wave.

Everyone stopped breathing. The memory of blood-soaked petals, lungs failing, air choked with love and death and the sound of tearing hearts.

No one said a word.

Because they all remembered.

And they all feared the same thing.

Ni-ki closed his eyes, jaw clenched tight. At first it looked like anger. Pure, violent anger, but then his lashes trembled.

Not jealousy. Not possessiveness.

Heartbreak.

He had loved Sunoo quietly, painfully, for years. Loved him enough to step aside. Loved him enough to hold him while he coughed blood for someone else. Loved him enough to accept that Sunoo’s lungs bloomed for Sunghoon, not for him.

He had Sunoo now. Sunoo was safe. Sunoo was healing.

But sometimes, when Sunoo smiled too gently or looked out the window too long, a small, sharp ache whispered:
He loves me, yes...
But he was made for someone else.

And fate was cruel.

Fate had always been cruel.

Ni-ki pressed his palms against his eyes, voice cracking as he whispered—

“Sunghoon won’t die… and Sunoo won’t die with him.”

Not again. Not this time. Not under their watch.

No matter what it cost them.

Chapter Text

Osaka bloomed quietly beyond the shop windows, the morning beginning in pastel blues and pale gold. Sunlight sifted through the glass panes, turning every petal into something softer, warmer, almost alive.

Inside, the smell of fresh-cut stems mingled with the sweetness of lilies and the faint bite of fertilizer. The bell above the door chimed occasionally with a breeze, its delicate ring blending into the gentle hum of the electric fans.

For Sunoo, this was home.

Ni-ki had gone out early to restock flower food, ribbon rolls, and new wrapping papers. Jungwon was already at his corporate office job, probably seated straight in his chair, tie crisp, typing with focused concentration and sipping his coffee the same way every morning:

And Sunoo?

He was alone, but he didn’t mind.

Alone meant he could move at his own pace, breathe, listen to the quiet music of flowers and wind and his own thoughts. He had done this many times. It was almost tradition by now.

The shop was famous in its quiet way. Tucked just beyond the busy Osaka district, it existed in a perfect pocket of balance, peaceful surroundings with steady foot traffic.

Ni-ki always called it “a miracle purchase,” and Sunoo agreed. The shop wasn’t just a workplace. It was a sanctuary in every sense of the word.

Sunoo hummed under his breath as he trimmed stems, arranging pale hydrangeas in a glossy lavender vase. The scissors clicked rhythmically, stem by stem.

Then the bell chimed again, but this time, not from the breeze. Someone had come in and Sunoo lifted his head.

A young man stepped through the door, dressed neatly collared shirt under a crisp jacket, shoes polished, posture straight and polite. His eyes took in the shelves, the flowers, the lighting… with the careful curiosity of someone who’d never been here before. Someone who appreciated detail.

Sunoo offered a welcoming smile.

“Good morning.”

The stranger returned it with a warm bow.

“Hi. I’m Jo.”

Sunoo set down his scissors and bowed back. “Welcome, Jo. Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

“Um…” Jo glanced around, smiling to himself. “I’ve visited many flower shops in Osaka, but this one is new to me. It’s beautiful here. Peaceful.”

A small, embarrassed laugh escaped Sunoo as he brushed his bangs away. “Thank you. Ni-ki, my partner and our co-owner, has good instincts. I just make sure the flowers don’t die on us.”

That made Jo laugh. It was bright, friendly, the kind that instantly made the room feel warmer.

And somehow, just like that, they fell into conversation.

Sunoo found himself talking with him easily about flower language, seasonal blossoms, combinations of hues and meaning. Jo knew his flowers, and Sunoo found himself unexpectedly enthralled leaning in, listening, smiling without realizing it

It felt… nice.

Talking to someone who understood flowers the way he did, not just as decorations but as things that carried meaning and weight.

Then Jo said something that shifted the air.

“I’m choosing flowers for my boyfriend.”

Sunoo’s expression lit immediately. Joy first, instinctive and sincere. “That’s wonderful! What kind of bouquet were you thinking of? Any colors he likes? Flower meanings?”

For a moment, Jo looked at the flowers on display… but then his smile changed. Soft, fragile, thinned around the edges by something heavy.

“Maybe anything really pretty sounds good,” he murmured. “Anything that can probably help him remember me again.”

Sunoo froze.

“…Remember you?” He swallowed. “Did he also get into an accident?”

Jo shook his head.

“No. He had Hanahaki Disease.”

Sunoo blinked. The name alone sent a faint chill across his skin. “Hana… haki?”

He had never heard it before. His head tilted in confusion.

Jo exhaled slowly, like someone who had explained this too many times but did not resent the burden.

“It’s a very rare illness. Most people never encounter it in their lifetime.”

As Sunoo continued assembling stems, soft peonies, ivory roses, gentle wildflowers. Jo spoke.

“Basically, you start to grow flowers in your lungs when you’ve found your soulmate. It’s painful because roots grow inside of you and you start coughing up random flower petals and it comes with blood. It obviously can make it difficult for one to breathe, and eventually, once the flowers are in full bloom in your lungs, it can kill you. Now it doesn’t necessarily mean, let’s say, you have a partner and you both don’t get the disease that you two are not in love. It’s not like that. The love is different, and it comes with this curse... and it’s a really rare chance it happens because that kind of love is rare. There are options to survive it though, but again, it’s...” Jo sighed and hesitated.

Sunoo’s hands start to shake as he assembles Jo’s flowers “Well, how did you two survive?”

Jo exhaled and is trying to shed tears. “You can get surgery to have it removed, however, once you do, your partner will also heal from the disease naturally but will lose their memory of you.”

“So you’re the one who had the surgery?” Sunoo nervously asked

Jo smiled “Yes. I couldn’t bare stand to see my Harua in a hospital bed suffering, while people remove thorns and stems in him. I rather it be me, and I did… and I get to keep my memories. I just figured we can start again and he can get to love me again. It’s been about a year now and he still hasn’t but, I haven’t given up.“

Sunoo’s hands stilled mid-cut. A shiver crept up his spine.

“That’s…” He struggled to find the right word. “That’s so unfortunate. I’m so sorry that happened to the both of you”

“It is,” Jo admitted with a small smile, one that trembled with strength and vulnerability. “Harua and I used to travel everywhere. New prefectures every break. He remembered every place, every moment. But now, when he looks at me, he smiles politely. Like I’m a stranger handing him directions.”

Sunoo’s heart clenched but Jo went on. “So I’m taking him everywhere again. Every possible place here in Japan. Maybe, just maybe… memory follows footsteps. Maybe feelings do too.”

Sunoo found himself listening not as a florist, but as someone who understood loss in a different shape.

He delicately tucked forget-me-nots into the bouquet, his voice soft. “It’s beautiful… what you’re doing. For him”

Jo smiled with a gratitude that didn’t need words.

Just then, the bell above the door chimed again. Ni-ki walked in, grocery bags in hand but his sharp eyes instantly narrowed when he saw Sunoo leaning close to another boy, smiling softly.

Sunoo brightened. “Oh! You’re back. This is Jo, first-time customer.”

Ni-ki smiled, but the jealousy was barely hidden. “Thanks for visiting.”

Jo nodded and accepted the bouquet as if it were something fragile and precious. Sunoo had wrapped it in soft tissue, tied neatly with a pale ribbon.

After a few more polite exchanges, Jo thanked them and stepped out into the Osaka street, the bell chiming behind him.

As the sound faded, Ni-ki leaned in, whispering something low to him, worry laced in his tone.

Sunoo barely heard them. His mind was somewhere else.

Hanahaki Disease. A love so deep it bloomed into suffering. Memories, stolen by heartbreak.

Could someone forget because they loved too much? Could someone remember because they loved enough?

The thought shook him.

If a heart could erase memories… Could a heart bring them back?

He pressed a hand slowly to his chest right over his ribs, right where his own memories lay sleeping.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Six days had passed since Sunghoon had gathered his friends in the living room and announced the one thing none of them expected.

He got a job in Kyoto. Across the world. Tomorrow was his flight.

The days that followed were filled with checklists and preparations, renewing prescriptions, printing medical documents, scanning copies of his ID, ironing clothes, packing and repacking and then repacking again. It felt strangely surreal. Four months ago he couldn’t even leave the apartment alone. Now he was about to board a ten-hour flight to a country he used to know and couldn’t remember.

Heeseung, Jay, and Jake didn’t love the idea. A trip across the ocean meant distance, time zones, worry. But Sunghoon had looked them in the eye and said: “I need to try.”

And if Sunghoon was ready, then they needed to be ready too.

Sunghoon was folding shirts into neat rectangles when a quiet knock sounded on his half-open door. He looked up to see Jake’s face peeking through, hair slightly messy, expression soft.

“Hey… can I come in?” Jake asked gently.

Sunghoon nodded. “Yeah.”

Jake entered, and only then did Sunghoon notice the tall figure lingering behind him.

Heeseung.

Both of them came inside and closed the door.

Sunghoon let out a small laugh. “What’s up? You two look like you’re about to stage an intervention.”

Jake sat at the edge of the bed, hands clasped between his knees. “We just wanted to talk. Before tomorrow.”

Heeseung took the desk chair and spun it around, leaning on the back like someone about to give a lecture.

“About Kyoto,” he added, “and about… everything.”

Sunghoon stilled, then nodded slowly. “Alright. Hit me.”

Jake took a breath, voice gentle but steady.

“First off, medication. Don’t forget it. Set alarms on your phone like always.”

Sunghoon nodded. “Already done.”

Heeseung pointed at him like a strict parent. “And food. Eat. Don’t skip meals just because you’re busy. I swear, I’ll fly to Kyoto and force-feed you if I have to.”

Sunghoon snorted. “Okay, mom.”

Jake gave Heeseung a side-eye. “He’s right, though. Working abroad might bring up… old memories. Or new emotions. If something hits you hard—call us. Don’t disappear into your own head.”

Sunghoon’s expression softened. “I will. I promise.”

Heeseung leaned forward, painfully blunt as always. “And also—don’t fall in love with anyone there, okay?”

Jake immediately slapped the back of Heeseung’s head. “That is NOT what we meant, idiot.”

“What??” Heeseung rubbed his head, scandalized. “I’m just saying! It’s valid advice!”

Sunghoon let out an unexpected laugh.

Jake cleared his throat and spoke again, voice lower and more sincere.

“Just… don’t shoulder everything alone this time. Talk to us. Let us help.”

Heeseung nodded firmly. “Yeah. You don’t have to be strong by yourself anymore. We’re here.”

Sunghoon looked at the two of them and suddenly the room felt a little too warm. “…Thank you,” he said quietly. “I mean that.”

And he did. More than they knew.

After a few more reminders, jokes, and reassurances, Jake and Heeseung stood up.

Jake hesitated at the doorway. “We’re proud of you, you know.”

Heeseung punched Sunghoon lightly on the shoulder. “Just don’t make us regret letting you go.”

Sunghoon grinned. “No promises.”

They left, and silence replaced them.

The room felt both emptier and steadier at the same time.

Sunghoon resumed packing and discovered he was missing a pair of black socks. He turned the room inside-out for nearly 20 minutes it seems. Checking under the bed, inside pillowcases, behind furniture, even between book pages.

Nothing.

With a dramatic sigh that would’ve earned him teasing if anyone heard it, he stepped into the hallway. Jake and Heeseung were gone somewhere, but the smell of something delicious wafted from the kitchen.

Jay was cooking, sleeves rolled up, focused on the pan like a man possessed. There was something soothing about it. Jay in a kitchen always looked like he had everything under control.

“Jay,” Sunghoon said, approaching. “Do you have extra socks?”

Jay didn’t look up, but answered immediately, “Yeah buddy. Third drawer from the bottom in my room. Take a pair.”

“Thanks,” Sunghoon said, and headed down the hall.

He had never been inside Jay’s room before.

It was cleaner than he expected. Neatly arranged books, framed photographs on the wall, and a small medium-sized cabinet by the bed.

Sunghoon crouched and opened the third drawer. There at the back were several pairs of socks.

He grabbed one, but as he pulled it free, something else slipped out with a soft clink and fell to the floor. Sunghoon frowned and searched the carpet until he spotted it a few steps away.

A bracelet.

He picked it up carefully.

It was unexpectedly cute. Blue and white beads, tiny snowflakes and penguin charms. Handmade. Child-like in its simplicity and warmth.

Sunghoon smiled softly and then he saw the letters. Two beads and ngraved with initials.

“PSH.”

His breath caught.

At first, he thought some kid made this. Someone else’s initials. But then realization crept in—

PSH. Park Sunghoon.

His name.

His pulse fluttered weakly in his throat.

Why did Jay have something like this?

And more frighteningly…Why did it feel like something he had seen before?

A memory brushed the edge of his mindlike something knocking faintly from behind a locked door.

Before he could think too deeply about it, he walked out of the room, bracelet in hand, and almost collided with Jay in the hallway. Jay froze.

Sunghoon lifted the bracelet. “Jay… is this mine?”

Jay’s eyes widened in immediate panic. “Wait—give me that—”

He reached for it, but Sunghoon jerked it back.

“Why are you reacting like this?”

Just then, Jake and Heeseung returned from outside. Stepping right into the middle of the tension.

Sunghoon looked at all three of them, confusion thick in his voice.

“Why are you being so protective over a bracelet? And if this really is mine… why didn’t you give it back?”

None of them spoke. None of them had words that wouldn’t hurt.

And Sunghoon stood there holding the bracelet not knowing that this small piece of beaded string was a memory he once treasured… and a truth they had all been terrified for him to remember.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Sunoo and Ni-ki arrived at their condo unit a little past seven, exhausted but lighthearted from the day. His feet ached, his shoulders were sore, but there was a faint bounce in his step. Work had gone well, and the florist shop was starting to feel familiar, almost home-like.

But the moment he stepped inside, he froze.

The lights were dimmed to a soft, golden warmth. The kind that didn’t just illuminate but embraced. Shadows curled gently around the furniture, nothing harsh, nothing cold. The room smelled sweet and warm and nostalgic. Flowers he loved, citrus candles, something airy and soft underneath. And then, beneath all of it, the unmistakable aroma of the foods he always asked for after a tiring day.

The dining table looked like a page from a romance novel.

Flower petals were scattered across the surface, delicate trails leading toward perfectly plated dishes. Candles flickered slowly, their flames tilting toward the air conditioner’s soft breeze. Everything looked deliberate, almost reverent.

Sunoo’s chest softened instantly.

Ni-ki

Of course. He probably did this while he was gone earlier because he had left again around 5pm.

He’d been doing things like this every week, without fail, since they moved to Japan. Every Friday. Every tiring Wednesday. Every day Sunoo looked like he needed comfort but didn’t ask for it.

After the accident in Seoul, those frightening, blurry, lost days, Ni-ki had become… everything. A constant hand at his back. A gentle reminder to breathe. Someone who smiled for him even when he couldn’t smile for himself.

And even before the accident, apparently, they had been close. Jungwon told him stories… so many stories that Sunoo sometimes wondered why he couldn’t remember even a shred of the warmth those memories should have had. Stories of late-night ramen, of Ni-ki carrying Sunoo’s heavy bags, of silent walks home in the winter, of Ni-ki arguing with bartenders who refused to serve Sunoo because he “looked twelve.”

Sunoo found himself building affection off those stories alone. That, and the way Ni-ki looked at him now, like someone who had already lost him once and never wanted to risk it again.

It hadn’t taken long for Sunoo to ask to make things official.

Ni-ki had resisted gently. “You don’t have to force anything, Sunoo. We can take it slow, your memories matter.” But Sunoo remembered how Ni-ki said it. Like each word was peeling a wound back open. Like he wanted to say yes but was terrified to.

Sunoo knew what he felt.

He didn’t want fear to dictate his new life.

If memories were fragile, he wanted to make new ones. Strong enough to anchor him.

He stepped closer to the table, brushing a petal with his fingers, smiling. Then arms wrapped around his waist from behind. Ni-ki’s embrace was warm and familiar, chin resting on Sunoo’s shoulder as if it belonged there.

“The usual?” Ni-ki whispered, the words soft as breath.

Sunoo laughed as Ni-ki peppered kisses along his neck. Tiny, affectionate pecks that made him squirm.

“You really didn’t have to do all this every week y’know?”

“I keep telling you that I want to, baby,” Ni-ki murmured. “You deserve beautiful things.”

Dinner was gentle, warm, easy. The kind of easy that comes only from routine and affection. Ni-ki smiled at every joke he made, nodded through his stories, offered small comments here and there that showed he listened. Really listened. Most of their conversation was about future date ideas: going to Kyoto Tower at night, visiting aquariums, checking out local markets, taking sunrise walks near the river.

It was simple, and it was safe.

“You seemed to awfully like that Jo guy earlier,” Ni-ki said, smiling, but Sunoo noticed the stiffness at the edge of his eyes, the way his fingers tapped once against the table.

Sunoo raised a brow. “He’s just a customer baby, and he has a boyfriend named Harua. He's literally just adorable talking about him.”

Ni-ki hummed. The smile stayed. But the tension didn’t leave.

Sunoo kept talking anyway. How Jo loved flowers, how he spoke about Harua like he was everything charming in the world, how Harua supposedly had the Hanahaki disease.

Sunoo tilted his head. “Are you familiar with Hanahaki? Jo explained it a little but—”

Ni-ki went utterly still.

Not in shock. Not in fear.

In instinct. Like a muscle remembering a wound.

He looked down at his food too quickly, jaw tightening before he forced it loose.

“I—I don’t really know anything about that,” he said. The words were stiff.

Sunoo blinked. “Really? But it’s kinda—”

“Let’s talk about something else,” Ni-ki said, almost pleading.

Sunoo frowned slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No baby,” Ni-ki replied, smiling too fast. Too forced. His fingers gripped his chopsticks so tightly they trembled. “It’s just… not important.”

But Sunoo could feel the shift. Like a curtain pulled suddenly across a window.

Their conversation drifted onward. But a new tension edged into Ni-ki’s posture, subtle, but there. Sunoo noticed. He always noticed the smallest changes in Ni-ki, even if he didn’t fully understand them yet.

Later, Sunoo mentioned casually...

“I wanna do something fun next week. Maybe we could explore Hokkaido? Or Fukuoka? Or even Kyoto one day—”

“No.”

Ni-ki’s voice snapped sharp through the air.

Sunoo blinked. The tone was unfamiliar.

Ni-ki’s hand was gripping the edge of the table, knuckles pale. “Travelling that far is dangerous for you right now.”

“Dangerous?” Sunoo repeated, eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s just a trip—”

“You’re not ready.”

“For a train ride?” Sunoo asked softly.

Ni-ki looked… afraid. Not angry. Not irritated.

Afraid.

“I’m saying no because I care about you,” Ni-ki said, voice cracking at the edges before he steadied it. “I just… I don’t want anything to happen to you again.”

Again.

The word hung there, heavy.

Sunoo swallowed. He didn’t understand.

But he didn’t want to push. Not when Ni-ki looked like he was holding himself together by a thread.

So he nodded. “Okay.”

Dinner finished in a muted hush, not awkward, not cold. Just fragile. Like both of them were walking around something breakable neither wanted to disturb. Later, they cleaned up together and slipped into bed. Ni-ki pulled Sunoo into his chest immediately, arms tightening around him like he was afraid Sunoo might drift away in the night.

Sunoo fell asleep to the rhythm of Ni-ki’s breathing.

But sometime far past midnight, he stirred.

He carefully slipped out of Ni-ki’s hold, sitting at the edge of the bed. Moonlight spilled through the window, silver and soft, painting his skin in cool light.

Osaka's streets below were quiet. Too quiet.

Sunoo pressed a hand to his chest.

Something was wrong.

Not in the room. Not in the air.

Inside him.

A hollow ache. A soft, persistent missing.

Like his heart was calling for someone he no longer remembered.

Or someone he was no longer allowed to remember.

It was that feeling again. The same exact feeling he's been feeling a lot recently.

He looked up at the moon, the brightness blurring slightly in his vision.

“I always feel like I'm missing someone…?” he whispered.

His voice cracked. “But I don’t even know who.”

Ni-ki shifted behind him in his sleep, reaching for him subconsciously, like even unconscious, he feared Sunoo slipping away.

Sunoo didn’t move.

He didn’t return to bed.

He just stared out the window, hand against his chest, feeling something ancient and aching pulling at him.

And the moon, silent and distant, held its secrets.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Sunghoon woke up before dawn because his mind wouldn’t let him sleep, not when tomorrow had finally arrived.

The day he would leave for Kyoto.

He lay still in bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, feeling the faint tremble in his chest, the kind of anxious fluttering that came with big changes. The room was quiet, too quiet compared to how alive it had been the previous night, when Jake and Heeseung were practically pacing around him, fussing like overbearing parents.

And Jay… Jay had barely looked at him after the bracelet incident.

Sunghoon sighed softly, rubbing his face with both hands before forcing himself to sit up. His suitcase sat in the corner, neatly packed, organized down to the last zipper, exactly as he wanted. Clothes folded with precision, toiletries lined up, documents in a protected folder. Medications, too. Jake made him triple-check those.

He took a slow breath, stood up, and gathered the last few items he needed to bring. Charger, notebook, the pair of socks Jay “lent” him. And despite his confusion about the bracelet, he slipped it into his pocket.

He didn’t know why.

He just… felt like he needed to.

By the time he zipped up the suitcase fully, the sun was only beginning to peek behind the buildings outside. He carried his things to the living room, where Heeseung sat hunched over on the couch with coffee, still half-asleep.

“You’re awake,” Heeseung muttered, blinking slowly.

“So are you,” Sunghoon replied.

Heeseung shrugged. “Didn’t want you leaving without saying goodbye. That’d be depressing.”

Before Sunghoon could answer, Jake stumbled in with his hair sticking up in six different directions, dragging his blanket like a sleepy child. “What time is it…? You couldn’t wait two more hours like normal humans?”

Sunghoon laughed. “My flight’s in three hours.”

Jake flopped onto the couch dramatically. “That’s not an excuse.”

Minutes later, footsteps moved quietly in the hallway. Jay emerged, dressed neatly as always, but the bruised circles under his eyes showed he hadn’t slept.
He hesitated for only a second before approaching Sunghoon, clearing his throat. “I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to,” Sunghoon said softly.

Jay shook his head. “I want to.”

Jake and Heeseung exchanged glances behind him, something between worry and relief.

Sunghoon grabbed his suitcase, the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder, and without another word, they all headed out the door.

The sky was painted pink and orange by the time they reached the car. The air was cool, carrying the damp scent of early morning. Jay opened the back door for Sunghoon, insisting he sit there so he could recline and rest.

Jake climbed into the passenger seat. Heeseung belted himself in next to Sunghoon, leaning back as if the whole weight of the world was on him.
For the first ten minutes, no one spoke.

Then Jake broke the silence with a sniff.

“I’m going to miss you, dude.”

Sunghoon chuckled. “I’m not dying.”

“You say that, but you’re fragile,” Jake countered. “I worry.”

Heeseung nodded dramatically. “Same. If someone breaks your heart in Japan, I will fly there myself.”

“Please don’t,” Sunghoon muttered. “The last thing I need is you fighting locals.”

Jay’s knuckles tightened slightly on the steering wheel. Sunghoon noticed.

The car fell quiet again until they reached the terminal. Jay parked, killed the engine, and sat still for a few seconds.

“We’ll be here when you come back,” he said quietly.

“Always,” Jake added, smiling.

Heeseung clapped Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Make good decisions. And if you don’t, at least tell us.”

Sunghoon smiled at all three of them, feeling something warm twist in his chest. “I’ll call when I land.”

They walked him inside, carried his bags, waited through check-in, and only left when he passed security.

Sunghoon waved at them one last time, from beyond the glass, where they couldn’t follow. Jake waved back wildly. Heeseung lifted both arms like a giant banner. Jay simply placed a hand over his heart.

And that alone almost made Sunghoon turn back.

--------------------------------------------------------------

15 hours later...

The flight itself was uneventful, but Sunghoon’s thoughts were not.

He stared out the window for most of it, watching the clouds form patterns he couldn’t decipher. The hum of the plane vibrated through his body, steady but foreign. He tried to distract himself with music, but every song reminded him of someone.

Of home. Of his friends. Of the bracelet in his pocket.

He took it out again, tracing the beads with his thumb.

PSH.

Why did Jay have this? Why did he hide it? And why did Jay look like someone ripped his heart out when Sunghoon held it?

He tucked it away again.

Kyoto greeted him with soft warmth, gentle sunlight, a cool breeze, the scent of cherry blossoms beginning to bloom early in the season.

It was beautiful. Too beautiful.

Almost painfully so.

Sunghoon stepped out of the airport with his luggage, where his assigned coordinator, Ms. Kanda, held a sign with his name and welcomed him with a polite bow.

“Park Sunghoon? Welcome to Kyoto.”

“Thank you,” he said nervously.

They walked to the car, and as Kyoto unfolded outside the windows, Sunghoon pressed his forehead lightly against the glass, mesmerized.

Wooden houses lined the streets, lanterns hanging beneath the eaves. Narrow alleys twisted like secrets waiting to be discovered. Temples rose quietly in the distance, majestic and serene. The city had a gentle heart, a rhythm different from Seoul and Manhattan, slower, calmer, alive in its own quiet way.

He felt a strange tug in his chest.

Something like… belonging.

The car passed by a flower stand on the corner. Bundles of baby’s breath, hydrangeas, camellias that danced in the breeze.

And for a fleeting second, a scent hit him.

Soft. Sweet. Familiar.

His breath hitched.

“Are you alright?” Ms. Kanda asked.

Sunghoon blinked. “Yeah… sorry. Just… the flowers reminded me of something.”

But he didn’t know what.

Or who.

His assigned lodging was a small but charming apartment near the Kamo River. Tatami floors, soft lighting, sliding doors. It felt like stepping into a quiet world away from everything he once knew.

After he unpacked, he opened the windows and let cool air rush in. The view overlooked a small street lined with cherry trees, their branches rustling gently.

Sunghoon’s chest tightened again. A strange ache.

The same ache he felt during the flight.

The same ache that had been haunting him for weeks, maybe longer.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling the bracelet out one more time, holding it against the light.

Penguin charms and snowflake beads.

Why did it feel like it meant something? Why did the bracelet make his heart hurt?

He exhaled shakily, lying down on the mattress. Jet lag washed over him, heavy and warm. His eyes fluttered shut.

And as he drifted off, he whispered—

“Who are you…?”

But he didn’t know if he was asking the bracelet.

Or himself.

Chapter Text

The morning rush in Osaka had a rhythm, one Jungwon had learned to move with instinctively.

People poured into the station like currents merging into a single river. The air carried the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans from the kiosks lining the entrance, mixed with the faint metallic scent of train tracks. As he stepped out with the rest of the crowd, the crisp autumn air brushed his cheeks, grounding him.

The city around him sang with momentum. Even the sun felt like it rose differently here. Sharper, brighter, hitting the glass walls of the skyscrapers at angles that made the streets glow like polished steel. Electric. Alive. Too fast for anyone to linger long enough to feel lonely.

That was ideal for Jungwon. If he stayed still, he thought too much.

He walked steadily through the automated doors of his building, the sensors sliding them open with a soft hiss. His ID card beeped against the scanner, green light flashing approval.

He bowed at the guard and the guard returned the greeting warmly. Jungwon was one of the few young workers who treated everyone with respect. He entered the elevator, joining a cluster of workers who smelled faintly of perfume, starch, ink, and caffeine. The mirrored walls reflected faces that all looked determined, tired, or simply resigned.

Jungwon saw himself in that reflection. He looked like someone who had everything under control.

Someone who didn’t break easily.

But that was a lie, and only he knew it.

Jungwon stepped into the heart of the corporate world: polished floors, quiet voices, a low hum of office machinery like a constant heartbeat. His department, International Business Development, was a maze of glass partitions, frosted doors, and rows of spotless desks lit by warm overhead LEDs.

It was beautiful, in its own sterile way.

Everything his life wasn’t before he came here.

He navigated between workstations until he reached his small corner cubicle. It wasn’t much, but it was organized, and every part of it reflected him. Dual monitors, a planner with color-coded tabs, a tiny potted plant Ni-ki insisted “needed corporate exposure."

And the picture frames, always the picture frames.

He sat down, the chair adjusting beneath him with a soft pneumatic hiss. His eyes instinctively drifted toward the last frame.

The college sportsfest.

Heeseung with his arms thrown high in victory. Jay yelling mid-laugh. Jake hugging everyone at once. Ni-ki, their youngest, pretending to be serious but clearly about to trip. And him, Jungwon, smiling with shy pride.

And then Sunoo.

Standing on the sidelines wearing Sunghoon’s jersey twice his size, hanging off his frame like a soft, oversized blanket. His cheeks flushed from cheering, hair sticking to his forehead.

Sunghoon stood next to him, sweaty, breathless, and glowing in that way only people in love can glow.

Then the kiss. Just a peck.

A fleeting touch of lips on cheek.

But the world had changed in that second. All of them felt it. Saw it. Knew it.

Jungwon swallowed.

He touched the frame gently with the tips of his fingers, as if the glass were fragile or as if the memory behind it was something sacred he wasn’t allowed to disturb. Sunoo doesn’t remember this moment. Not the jersey. Not the kiss. Not the boy who had once held his heart with both hands like something priceless.

And Jungwon had helped bury that truth.

He hated himself for it, sometimes. He hated the way Sunoo would ask, with the softest trembling voice:

“Jungwon… did I forget someone important?” “Did someone get hurt because of me?” “Was I in love before…?”

And Jungwon would smile, steady and careful.

“You’re doing fine, Sunoo. Everything is okay.”

But nothing was okay.

What happened to Sunghoon and Sunoo had carved a scar into all of them. It taught them that fate was cruel, that a love so strong like that in this world could be violent, that destiny could take the shape of shattered glass and a blood-soaked hospital bed.

Soulmates weren’t just beautiful in this world, they were terrifying.

So Jungwon learned to protect the people he loved by keeping truths in shadows, by never letting history repeat itself.

He took a deep breath and let work steadied him. He opened his computer to see a flood of morning emails. Negotiations, supplier delays, overseas meetings, spreadsheets full of numbers that somehow calmed him.

His job paid well. Enough for rent. Enough for Sunoo’s medical needs. Enough to build a safety net for emergencies.

He wasn’t at the flower shop like Sunoo and Ni-ki because someone had to keep the foundations steady. Someone had to handle the real world... the hard world. The world of bills and documents and long-term stability.

He wasn’t just a friend. He was a pillar.

He negotiated with vendors on behalf of the flower shop. Secured discounts. Managed accounting. He stayed awake some nights drafting emails across time zones while Sunoo slept peacefully in their home.

It wasn’t glamorous, and it wasn’t fun, but it mattered.

By the time lunch arrived, his eyes were burning from staring at screens. He opened his bento, letting the aroma of grilled salmon soothe his nerves. Just one minute of peace, then his gaze drifted, like a moth to a flame, back to the photograph.

He didn’t notice that his fingers were trembling slightly.

He whispered more to himself than anything—

“Sunghoon… I don’t know if we’re ready.”

The universe must have heard him, because his phone vibrated violently against the desk.

Jay calling.

Jungwon’s heart stuttered and he answered immediately. “Hyung?”

Jay’s voice was loud and breathless. Wind rushed in the background.

“We just dropped Sunghoon off at the airport. He’s already checked in.”

Jungwon’s blood ran cold.

“He’s on his way to Kyoto now.”

The world around Jungwon dimmed. His ears rang. He stared at the picture frame yet again. Sunoo laughing in Sunghoon’s jersey.

A piece of frozen, untouched past colliding against the dangerous present.

After a few more rushed exchanges, Jay hung up, saying they would keep in touch, the call ended and the office noise faded for him. Even the hum of the air conditioning felt distant.

Jungwon slowly lowered the phone, fingers numb. His heartbeat echoed painfully inside his chest. Slow, heavy, terrified.

Jungwon’s chest constricted. He pressed a trembling hand over his mouth.

“Please…” he whispered into the stillness of the office.

His voice cracked and his eyes glistened.

“Whatever is controlling all of this…” The fear in his tone was so raw it felt ancient, inherited, carved into bone. “Please… don’t mess with them again.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders shaking.

“I’m begging you,” he whispered. “Don’t kill my friends.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Ni-ki unlocked the front door of Fleur d’Sunki just a little past seven in the morning. The small Osaka street was still quiet as shops shuttered, bicycles lined neatly by the curb, a thin veil of morning mist clinging to the cobblestones like the world hadn’t fully woken up yet.

He pushed the glass door open, the tiny bell chiming softly above him. For the past four months, it was always him and Sunoo who opened the shop together. It was their routine. Sunoo humming while wiping counters, Ni-ki checking the crates of fresh flowers delivered at dawn. But today, the shop looked wrong. Wrong in a way Ni-ki could feel, like a chord in a song missing its highest note.

He flicked on the lights, and the warm glow poured over rows of flowers, each one brightening as if relieved to be seen. Roses in pale blush, hydrangeas dusted in lavender, soft white carnations, pink snapdragons, sunflowers still beaded with dew. The air smelled like earth and sweetness, one of Sunoo’s favorite scents. Ni-ki breathed it in, but it didn’t soothe him the way it usually did.

He felt the ache of missing someone who was only a few minutes away.

He had begged him to rest at home. Sunoo woke up pale, quieter than usual, his smile thin and weak. His head hurt. His eyes looked tired. Ni-ki had touched his forehead gently and Sunoo felt slightly warm.

“We can close today,” Ni-ki whispered. “Just for today. I’ll stay with you.”

But Sunoo shook his head, stubborn like only Sunoo could be. “We need customers, Ni-ki. We can’t lose business.”

Sunoo always felt guilty about money. He always felt like a burden. It wasn’t true, but fear didn’t need truth to exist.

So Ni-ki gave in.

Before arranging the flower displays, he quickly typed a message:

Ni-ki: Sunoo isn’t feeling well. opening alone today
Jungwon: I can help after work, text me if you need anything
Ni-ki: Thank you hyung.

Jungwon always helped. Even after his long workdays, he always found time for them. Always.

Ni-ki tucked his phone away and began setting up the shop. Watering flowers, trimming stems, taking online orders and deliveries, adjusting chalkboard signs, wiping down the counters until they shone. Every little action felt heavier today, but he forced himself through it, imagining Sunoo beside him, smiling while arranging tulips. He flipped the "Open" sign, and sunlight trickled across the floor.

The morning rush began right on time.

“Good morning, Ni-ki-kun,” she greeted warmly. Then she peeked around. “Is the cute boy not here today?”

Ni-ki smiled politely. He was used to this question. “Sunoo’s resting. It’s just me today, ma’am.”

“Oh, such a shame.” She sighed. “The shop feels brighter when he’s here.”

Ni-ki nodded without flinching. Because she wasn’t wrong. Sunoo had that effect.He made rooms brighter just by existing.

Next was a young man who always bought flowers for his weekly dates.

“Yo! Where’s the cute one?” he called out.

Ni-ki glared. “Resting.”

“Aw! Tell him I hope he gets well soon!”

Ni-ki didn’t answer that time.

By mid-morning, Ni-ki had heard it eight times:

Where’s your cute boyfriend? Where’s the angel? Where’s the pretty one? Where’s the soft-voiced boy?

He smiled every time because Sunoo deserved admiration. Because even strangers felt how gentle he was.

But he also smiled because hearing Sunoo’s name softened something inside Ni-ki’s chest, the same place he tried so hard to guard every day. Sunoo had been the reason Ni-ki fell in love with flowers in the first place. Not because flowers were pretty, but because they reminded him of Sunoo. Delicate, bright, soft, beautiful and stronger than people gave them credit for.

But it was also flowers that he was scared of.

He just wants to remember the good old days. Back to college.

Back when Sunoo always sat in the back row because he was too shy to be seen. Back when he doodled daisies in the margins of his notes. Back when he shared snacks with everyone except himself. Back when he laughed so hard his shoulders shook and his eyes turned heart-shaped.

Ni-ki fell slowly… then all at once.

But Sunoo had belonged to someone else.

Soulmates were unmistakable. The pull between them was visible even without words. Ni-ki had watched it all silently, and he had swallowed his feelings because Sunoo was happy. And that was enough.

Or he told himself it was enough.

The accident changed everything.

Sunoo and Sunghoon forgot.

Their love vanished from their minds, leaving their hearts cracked and bruised in ways they couldn’t name.

Ni-ki remembered standing at Sunoo’s hospital bedside as Sunoo asked:

“Is there someone I should remember?”

He had looked so lost, hurt and so scared of the answers he didn’t have.

Ni-ki had held him gently. “You’re not alone. You still have us.”

And for the first time, Sunoo leaned on him.

Ni-ki, who had promised never to be selfish, found himself wanting more than he should. Not because Sunoo was vulnerable and not because Sunoo forgot Sunghoon.

But because Ni-ki had always loved him. Silently and hopefully

And now he finally had a chance to love him out loud.

By noon, the rush slowed. Ni-ki closed the register and slipped out to buy food: Sunoo’s favorite karaage bento, miso soup, strawberry milk. He balanced the bags carefully as he approached his car.

His phone buzzed.

Jay.

Ni-ki frowned and answered immediately. “Hyung?”

Jay sounded breathless, like he had run across the entire airport.

“We just sent him off.”

Ni-ki’s chest tightened.

“…Sunghoon?”

“Yeah, forgot today's the day? He’s on his way to Kyoto now.”

The entire world seemed to stop. Even the passing cars felt muted. Ni-ki’s grip tightened around the bento bags until the handles dug into his skin. Jay kept talking. Updates, reassurances, the usual, but Ni-ki wasn’t listening anymore.

Sunghoon was coming to Japan.

To the same country Sunoo was in.

Ni-ki’s pulse pounded in his ears and hung up slowly, lowering the phone like it weighed a hundred kilos.

He got into the driver’s seat, closed the door, and sagged forward, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. For three long seconds he just sat there, breathing like someone drowning.

Ni-ki didn’t hate Sunghoon, not even when they were in college

But if Sunghoon came near Sunoo now...

If he reignited something Sunoo had only recently calmed, if fate tried to steal the man Ni-ki had spent years loving...

Then yes, he would hate him.

He would hate him because soulmate love was dangerous. They had seen what it did—how intense the flowers became, how fatal it could've been.

He would hate him because losing Sunoo again would destroy all of them. He would hate him because Ni-ki had finally built something with Sunoo.

Trust.

Warmth.

A life.

And fate was cruel enough to break it.

Ni-ki forced himself to breathe.

He looked up at the rear-view mirror. A small keychain dangled, cartoon versions of him and Sunoo, smiling like they had everything ahead of them. In the window nook sat Sunoo’s plushies. Little round animals and characters he collected.

Ni-ki reached out and touched the keychain gently.

“No matter what happens,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I won’t let you take him away again.”

He started the car.

He drove home with a heart full of fear and love so fierce it almost hurt.

But underneath all that, a trembling truth lingered.

Sunoo wasn’t just someone Ni-ki loved.

He was someone Ni-ki was terrified to lose, and the universe had just sent Sunghoon back into the picture.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The elevator ride up to the twenty-sixth floor had been silent.

The three of them stood like broken pillars. Jay still had the car keys clutched in his hand like a weapon he never got to use. Heeseung leaned against the mirrored wall, eyes vacant but storming inside. Jake stood between them, shoulders slumped, as if he were carrying the entire morning on his back.

When the elevator doors slid open, the hallway felt too bright, too quiet, too normal. The carpeted floor swallowed their footsteps as they walked to their condo unit. Jay unlocked the door and the moment the three stepped inside, the silence felt like a wall collapsing on top of them.

The air still smelled faintly of Sunghoon’s cologne. His jacket still hung on the dining chair, sleeve half folded like he left in a rush. A half-open box of tea sat on the counter. A sticky note Sunghoon wrote two nights ago (“Buy more milk?”) was still stuck on the fridge.

It all made their absence feel real.

Jay walked farther in, dropped the car keys onto the marble kitchen counter with a metallic sound that echoed louder than it should have.

Jake stood near the couch, staring at the panda mug left by the sink. His vision blurred for a moment. He remembered Sunghoon laughing while complaining about the chip. He remembered Sunoo teasing him about it too, before everything had gone to hell.

“Well, he’s gone,” Jake said weakly, barely louder than a whisper. There was a playful tone in it to, perhaps trying to lighten the mood and lift up the heavy atmosphere but also addressing the biggest elephant in the room.

But it was enough to shatter whatever thin thread was keeping the three men tethered to calm.

Jay closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, chest trembling. Heeseung didn’t look away from the jacket on the chair, his tongue pressed hard against the inside of his cheek, jaw tight.

Then he spoke.

“He shouldn’t be,” Heeseung muttered, voice bitter with fear and guilt. “He shouldn’t even be on that plane.”

Jay snapped his head toward him, a warning in his eyes. “Don’t start.”

But Heeseung didn’t back down, didn’t soften.

“How did he even find the bracelet, Jay?” He took a step toward him, anger rising like heat. “You still haven’t explained yourself.”

Jay’s expression hardened instantly. “I told you, don’t.”

“No. I want answers.” Heeseung’s voice rose, raw and sharp. “How could you be so reckless? And worse, you let him go. You LET him go to Japan.”

Jay inhaled sharply through his teeth.

“The fuck you mean I let him go? I tried! We all tried! You were THERE, Hee. You think I wanted this?”

“You didn’t try hard enough!” Heeseung yelled.

“Oh, fuck you!” Jay’s chest heaved. “You’re gonna blame me now? When you were just standing there acting like the mature hyung who had everything figured out? YOU didn’t do anything either!”

Heeseung pointed a finger accusingly. “You should’ve grabbed his passport, blocked the door—something!”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Jay shouted. “He was persistent and plus, I realized that he’s not a child we can lock in the house!”

“Maybe we should have!”

“Are you insane?!”

Jake stepped in between them, hands pushing lightly at their chests. “Stop. Both of you, stop. This isn’t helping.”

But anger made both men deaf.

“Heeseung, you’re fucking delusional,” Jay hissed.

“And you’re irresponsible!” Heeseung roared back.

Jay addeda humorless laugh. “Of course…. Of course you’d blame me for everything. You always do.”

“And what, you think you didn’t mess up?”

Jake shouted louder, “HEY. Enough—”

Jay’s rage snapped toward him next, like a whip. “And YOU.” He jabbed a finger at Jake. “You think you’re the mediator? You always try to keep the peace but you're careless too. Your mouth runs before your brain does! You caused problems too, you always have!”

Jake froze, eyes wide, stunned that Jay would throw that at him.

Even Heeseung faltered, guilt flickering over his features.

Jay shook his head, voice cracking. “We’re falling apart. We’re actually falling apart and Sunghoon… Sunghoon is fragile as hell right now. And with Sunoo and him both in the same country…” His voice broke. “We’re losing control of everything—”

Jay’s phone buzzed.

The sound sliced through the room like a blade. All three froze mid-breath.

Jay lifted the phone with shaking hands… Saw the name on the screen…

“…Sunghoon,” he whispered.

He pressed play.

The voice message filled the room, painfully familiar.

“I’m about to take off. I’ll miss you three but I’ll be back before you know it so don’t get sappy over there. I’m sorry if I caused trouble again.”

The room fell silent again, but this time, the silence was grief.

Jay lowered the phone slowly, unable to breathe.

Heeseung swallowed hard. His voice came out hoarse. “Jay… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Jake exhaled deeply, hands trembling. “We can’t… we can’t lose it like this. Not now. Not when we’re trying to protect people who are already cracked.” He took a shaky breath. “If we fall apart… everything else will fall apart too.”

Jay looked down at the floor as the exhaustion hit him all at once.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry too. Hee. Jake. I… I just need some time.”

He walked to his room and closed the door gently, not slamming it like he normally would.

Inside, the darkness wasn’t comforting, it was suffocating.

Jay sat on his bed, elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands.

The framed photograph on his nightstand caught his eye. The seven of them, before pain took everything.

Sunghoon with his arm around Sunoo.

Sunoo leaning against him, glowing.

Their smiles so bright it hurt to look at.

Jay picked up the frame, tracing their outlines with his thumb.

“How the hell,” he whispered, voice cracking apart, “are we supposed to protect you guys now?”

He stared at the picture.

His voice trembled, barely audible.

For the first time in years, Jay broke. Tears went down his face

And Jay, who always held himself together for the others, realized something terrifying:

Fate was already moving.

And now—

Japan was waiting with both Sunoo and Sunghoon in its grip.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Ni-ki balanced the two plastic bags of food against his hip while nudging the condo door open with his shoulder. “Baby? I’m here,” he called out, kicking his shoes off like muscle memory.

What he expected was simple. Sunoo curled up in his blanket, hair messy, eyes soft and half-asleep from the fever he was recovering from.

But what greeted him was chaos. Clothes everywhere. Tops tossed over the arm of the couch. Jeans spread across the bed in some sort of half-organized line. Opened packages scattered across the carpet, some ripped neatly, some torn messily in excitement. And in the middle of it all stood Sunoo, holding a pastel sweater to his torso, twisting slightly to see the back in the mirror.

He was glowing again.

Pink cheeks, lips pursed thoughtfully, hair falling over his eyes.

But the smile, the sweet, innocent smile Ni-ki knew by heart, dimmed the moment he saw him.

“Oh hi baby!” Sunoo said, breathless, as if he’d been dancing around the apartment. “My new clothes arrived early.”

Ni-ki blinked. “You… seem to be feeling better.”

“I am,” Sunoo nodded quickly. “My headache’s gone, so I started trying things on. I didn’t want them to wrinkle.”

Ni-ki hummed, trying to hide the knot forming in his stomach. Sunoo being cheerful was good wasn’t it? But something felt off.

Too sudden.

He moved toward the table to set the food down. Sunoo’s laptop sat open beside the placemats, probably from whatever online game he played earlier to kill time.

He reached forward to move it and the screen woke.

A tourism website. A bright, overwhelming display of destinations and transportation routes in Japan. Maps. Bus lines. Cheap flights. Kyoto guides. “Best places to visit with someone or alone.”

Ni-ki’s entire world caved in.

“...Sunoo,” he whispered, voice dropping into something tight and low. “What is this?”

Sunoo turned, first confused, then horrified.

He saw the screen and he saw Ni-ki’s face.

His own smile fell apart. “Ni—Ni-ki, wait—”

“What is this?” Ni-ki repeated, louder. Not yelling. But the type of voice someone uses when they’re trying desperately not to yell. “You’re looking up travel directions?”

Sunoo swallowed hard. “I… I was just curious—”

“Don’t.” Ni-ki’s voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t lie to me, Sunoo.”

Sunoo flinched. Like that single sentence hurt more than if Ni-ki had screamed.

“How many times,” Ni-ki continued, voice trembling with something more complicated than anger, “do I have to tell you it’s dangerous? That traveling is off limits? That we agreed—you agreed to wait?”

Sunoo’s jaw tightened.

“I never agreed Ni-ki,” he said quietly. “You decided.”

That one sentence... soft, but solid, hit Ni-ki harder than a punch.

Sunoo stepped closer, hands shaking, but eyes strangely steady. “You keep saying it’s for my safety, but do you know what it feels like? Being stuck here every day? Going from the flower shop to home, home to the flower shop? I feel like I don’t get to live. I feel like I’m trapped, Ni-ki. It’s been four months. I’m okay now.”

Ni-ki’s throat closed.

“Trapped?” he echoed. “You feel trapped?”

Sunoo nodded once. “Yes.”

Ni-ki stared at him like he was hearing someone else speak. Like this wasn’t the Sunoo he protected, cuddled, fed warm soup to, wrapped in his hoodie whenever he was too cold. Something in him recoiled, like the word itself was poisonous.

“Sunoo, I’m doing everything I can to protect you,” Ni-ki said, voice wavering. “I’m trying to keep you alive. I’m trying—”

“To keep me alive?” Sunoo cut in. “From what Ni-ki? From living? Just how dangerous am I supposed to be? How long do I have to wait until I’m allowed to exist outside these walls? Your walls? Are you really protecting me or are you just scared?”

Ni-ki inhaled sharply.

Sunoo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to push that far.

But it was too late.

Ni-ki laughed. A broken, humorless sound. “You think I’m a bad boyfriend, don’t you?”

“I never said that—”

“No, but you think it,” Ni-ki snapped. “You think I’m controlling. Overreacting. You think everything I do is too much.”

“That’s not what I said—”

“Then what?!” Ni-ki exploded. “What the hell do you want from me? Do you want me to stop caring? Stop worrying? Just pretend everything is normal? Should I just let you go wherever the hell you want and hope you don’t die on the way?!”

Sunoo’s breath hitched.

Ni-ki had never talked like that. Never used that tone. Never let fear twist him this ugly.

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” Sunoo finally shouted. “You’re not listening!”

“Because what you’re saying is insane!”

“It’s not! I want to live, Ni-ki!”

“You are living!”

“No, you’re living for both of us!” Sunoo cried. “I follow everything you want. Everything you say. But what about me? What do I want?”

“No, you’re living for both of us!” Those words stabbed Ni-ki somewhere he didn’t know existed.

Anger, fear and resentment suddenly flooded him.

“You selfish idiot,” Ni-ki hissed, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “You think you’re the only one struggling? You think I’m doing this for fun? I’m trying to save your useless—”

He cut himself off, horrified by his own mouth.

Sunoo’s eyes widened. He stumbled back like Ni-ki had punched him.

“...Ni-ki,” Sunoo whispered, voice breaking. “Why would you… say that?”

Ni-ki felt everything inside him collapse.

He couldn’t breathe.

He backed away, shaking. “I—I need to go.”

“Ni-ki—”

“I can’t—Sunoo, I can’t right now.”

He grabbed his keys with trembling fingers and walked out.

He didn’t slam the door to be dramatic, he slammed it because if he didn’t leave right that second, he might’ve fallen apart right in front of Sunoo.

The hallway felt freezing. Too bright. Too exposed.

He stormed into his car, slammed the door, and gripped the steering wheel so hard his hands went numb.

He hit the wheel once. Twice.

“Damn it,” he gasped. “Damn it, damn it!”

He didn’t know where he was going. He just drove.

He cursed the universe for giving him someone so fragile, so precious, so easily breakable. He cursed himself for not being enough. For not being gentle enough. For not being calm enough. For loving someone he was constantly afraid of losing.

Because Sunoo wasn’t meant for cages.

He never was.

But now it struck him. That what him and Jungwon had been doing since they came to Japan.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the condo, Sunoo sat on the bedroom floor, knees pulled tightly to his chest. He stared at the door Ni-ki had slammed behind him. His tears were hot, falling silently. He didn’t wipe them at first. He just let them fall.

Ni-ki’s words echoed inside him—ugly, sharp, foreign. Words Ni-ki never used. Words that cut deeper because they came from the person he trusted most.

But beneath the hurt… something else stirred.

A spark... a shift.

He touched his chest lightly, feeling the ache blooming there, and the strangest thing happened.

The pain didn’t crush him.

It clarified him.

He wiped his cheeks, blinking slowly.

Maybe this pain was a message. Maybe this was the breaking point he needed. Maybe he had been meant to feel this, to finally push him past the fear that had been choking him for months.

He stared at his laptop still glowing on the table.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” he whispered to the empty room.

And this time…

He didn’t feel guilty for it.

He felt alive.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Ni-ki didn’t remember half the roads he took. He only remembered the sound of his own breathing. Ragged, uneven and the way the world outside the windshield smeared into indistinct shapes of light and color. Stoplights, people, crosswalk signs, everything blended together, swallowed by the storm breaking inside him.

The steering wheel felt small in his hands, like it wasn’t enough to anchor him to the world. His knuckles stayed white, the tendons in his arms tense to the point of pain.
Every few seconds, Sunoo’s expression flickered back into his mind.

Those wide, stunned eyes. The way his lips parted but no words came out. The way his tears hung, suspended, as if even they didn’t know whether to fall.

And worst of all...

The way he looked afraid of him.

Ni-ki clenched his jaw so tightly it hurt.

He had always sworn to himself that he would never become the reason Sunoo cried. Never become another source of fear. Never be anything but gentle, patient, comforting.

And yet…

“I fucking messed up,” he whispered into the cold air of the car. His voice cracked so violently he almost didn’t recognize it as his own. “God, I messed up… baby, I’m so sorry…”

He wiped angrily at the tears streaming down his face, but they just kept coming. His chest felt like it was folding in on itself, like his ribs were bending inward.

He felt sick from the weight of it.

Everything he had done, every restriction he’d placed, every rule, every fear, he had justified them to himself as protection.

But earlier… just moments ago… he had used that same fear like a weapon.

And he had stabbed the only person he ever swore to shield.

The car jerked slightly as he swerved into another lane. A horn blasted behind him.

Ni-ki blinked, startled, realizing he had drifted. He exhaled shakily and forced himself to breathe slower, steadying his hands.

Focus. Just enough to get somewhere safe.

He didn’t even remember deciding to go to Jungwon.

He only realized where he was when he saw the gleaming office building towering over him. It looked sterile, cold, far too put together for someone like him, messy-haired, tear-stained, spiraling.

But he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.

He needed someone who understood. Someone who had lived through the same fears, the same nightmares, the same near-losses.

He needed his hyung.

When he reached Jungwon’s department floor, several employees turned their heads at the sound of someone running. Ni-ki ignored all of them, beelining toward the glass-partitioned area where Jungwon sat hunched over paperwork and dual monitors.

“Hyung!” Ni-ki burst out.

Jungwon jolted, nearly spilling his coffee over the documents he was signing.

“What—Ni-ki?!” Jungwon stood up so fast his chair rolled back. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to—are you okay? Did something happen to Sunoo?”

Ni-ki opened his mouth.

But the words were stuck.

He couldn’t say them.

He didn’t know how to admit what he had done.

His breath faltered and Jungwon’s expression grew even more alarmed.

“Ni-ki,” Jungwon said gently, stepping out from his cubicle, hands on Ni-ki’s shoulders. “Hey. Look at me. What happened?”

Ni-ki swallowed hard.

“I…” His voice cracked. “I messed up.”

Jungwon blinked. “Okay. Messed up how?”

Ni-ki inhaled shakily, then finally forced the words out—

“I fought with Sunoo.”

Jungwon froze.

“What do you mean fought?” he asked slowly.

Ni-ki looked like a kid admitting to breaking something precious. His mouth trembled.

“He… wanted to travel. Again. I found him researching places in Japan, and I— I told him it was dangerous, like always. And he said he felt trapped. Like he’s not living. Like—like I’m controlling him.”

Jungwon’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. “And what did you say?”

Ni-ki shut his eyes.

“I got angry.”

“How angry?”

A beat of silence.

Ni-ki’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Bad angry.”

Jungwon’s stomach dropped. “Ni-ki… what did you say?”

Ni-ki’s breath hitched. “Something I shouldn’t have. Something I didn’t mean. Something that hurt him.”

Jungwon stared at him.

Ni-ki had always been gentle with Sunoo. He worshipped him, adored him, treated him like the most delicate flower in the world.

For him to admit this… it meant it was bad.

“How did he react?” Jungwon asked softly.

“He fucking cried of course,” Ni-ki whispered, guilt thick in his voice. “And he just… looked at me like he didn’t know who I was anymore.”

Jungwon felt a painful tug in his chest.

“And then?” he asked.

“I left.”

Jungwon’s eyes widened. “You left? Ni-ki—”

“I know!” Ni-ki snapped at himself more than at Jungwon. “I know. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have left him alone. But I panicked. I was scared of hurting him more. I was scared of what I’d say if I stayed.”

Jungwon ran a hand down his face.

“I came here because I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t want to lose him.”

Jungwon exhaled slowly, guiding Ni-ki to sit on a spare chair by his desk.

For a long while, neither of them spoke.

The tapping of keyboards and hum of office printers filled the silence around them.

Ni-ki bowed his head. “Do you think… do you think I’m the problem?”

Jungwon was quiet for a moment.

Then he sighed.

“You were wrong.”

Ni-ki had half-expected Jungwon to defend him. Half-hoped Jungwon would tell him he did the right thing. That Sunoo was overreacting. That fear excused everything.

But Jungwon didn’t.

And maybe that hurt more, because it meant Ni-ki really had no excuse.

He had simply hurt the person he loved because he was scared.

And yet, Jungwon hadn’t condemned him. He hadn’t yelled. He hadn’t turned his back. He just… sighed. Weary. Heartbroken in his own way.

“We all became too strict.”

The words hit Ni-ki harder than any accusation could have. Because they were true.

Jungwon didn’t look like a leader then. He didn’t look like the calm, steadfast center of their circle. He looked tired. Guilt-ridden. Like someone who had spent months pretending to be strong enough to hold everyone together.

But the cracks had been there the whole time.

“We’ve been so cruel to him,” Jungwon murmured.

Ni-ki stared at him through blurred eyes, a trembling breath escaping him.

And that’s how they ended up rushing home, Jungwon abandoning his workload, Ni-ki gripping the seatbelt like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart completely.

When they reached the condo…

Ni-ki literally ran.

The hallway lights flickered across his face, making the panic in his eyes look even worse. His fingers shook so violently he dropped the keys once, twice, before finally getting the door open—

And the silence hit like a tidal wave.

Ni-ki froze.

Jungwon didn’t even have to say anything.

Everything in the apartment screamed of Sunoo’s absence. The neatness. The lack of shoes.

The emptiness.

Ni-ki’s vision tunneled.

His breath got caught somewhere between inhale and collapse.

He stumbled inside, checking every corner as if Sunoo might be hiding behind the curtains or curled up in the closet. But every space he checked only made the truth sharper, louder, crueler.

Sunoo was gone.

He had really left... and he had left because of him.

Ni-ki felt his knees buckle. He crumpled onto the floor, palms pressed against the tiles like he needed to hold onto something solid before he completely broke.
The first sound he made was a choked gasp.

The second was a sob.

“Hyung—Hyung he’s gone—” Ni-ki cried, chest caving. “Sunoo’s gone—what if—what if something happens to him—what if—”

Jungwon immediately dropped beside him, gripping his shoulders tightly. “Ni-ki. Listen. We’ll find him. He can’t be far. We’ll call the others. We’ll check all the stations. He couldn’t have gotten out of the building long ago.”

But even Jungwon’s voice shook.

Because they both knew what this meant.

Sunoo, for the first time, had chosen to run.

Not from danger, but from them.

The place seemed colder suddenly. The lights hummed a little too loudly. The air felt tight, unbreathable.

Ni-ki bowed his head, his tears falling onto the floor. “This is my fault,” he whispered. “This is all my fault.”

Jungwon felt something twist sharply in his chest.

Because deep down…

He feared the same thing.

They had tried so hard to protect Sunoo from the world, that they forgot the world wasn’t the only thing that could hurt him.

Sometimes, the people who loved you the most were the ones who trapped you the tightest.

And now?

Now Sunoo was out there.

Alone.

Searching for answers.

And if fate had been waiting for a moment like this... it finally got it.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Sunoo didn’t remember how he zipped the suitcase. He didn’t remember grabbing his wallet, his charger, the jacket he hadn’t worn in months.

All he remembered was the sound of the front door shutting behind him. A dull, painful thud that echoed in his bones.

His feet were moving before his mind caught up, the hallway blurred, and by the time he stepped out into the night air, chest tight and throat raw, he was already raising his hand to flag down a taxi.

A car pulled over quickly. The driver rolled the window down. “Where to, sir?”

Sunoo stared blankly for a moment, then swallowed hard.

“I… I don’t know,” he whispered, voice still trembling. “Just… take me to the best café you know. Somewhere quiet. Please.”

The driver blinked at him, concerned but polite, and nodded. “Of course. Buckle up.”

Sunoo slid into the back seat, suitcase beside him. He turned his phone off as he was already receiving calls from Ni-ki and Jungwon.

The faint scent of mint air freshener filled the taxi as his hands were still shaking.

The moment he was alone, his chest caved in again—and the tears finally fell.

Ni-ki’s face.

He couldn’t stop seeing it.

The anger. The fear. The way his voice cracked when he cursed at him, said something he’d never said to Sunoo before.

Sunoo wiped at his face, but more tears followed like they had been waiting for this moment, trapped in his ribs for years.

He loved Ni-ki deeply, fiercely, in a way that scared him sometimes.

Ni-ki was warmth. Ni-ki was devotion. Ni-ki was safety.

But safety had begun to feel like a cage.

Not because Ni-ki meant it that way, but because something inside Sunoo had been shifting for weeks now.

A feeling he couldn’t shake.

A quiet voice whispering. "They’re hiding something."

Not because they wanted to hurt him, Jungwon and Ni-ki would rather die than hurt him.

But because they were scared.

Scared of what he'll remember. Scared of what he'll find. Scared of who he used to be.

Sunoo pressed his forehead against the cool window glass.

Even if it hurt, even if it changed things. even if it brought back memories he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

He didn’t know where he was going, but doing nothing, staying in that condo, trapped between worry and confusion and unspoken truths, felt worse than running away.
Somewhere deep in his chest, a strange certainty pulsed quietly

He wasn’t sure if it was intuition, or fate or something buried inside his heart finally waking up.

But he trusted it…

For once, he trusted himself.

“We’re here,” the driver said softly.

Sunoo blinked and looked out.

It was… beautiful.

A quaint café nestled between tall modern buildings, its warm golden lights spilling into the street. The entrance was framed by hanging plants, small lanterns hung above the windows, flickering gently in the breeze. Inside, he saw pastel walls, shelves of books, dried flower bouquets, and soft cushions on every chair.

It looked like a place where soft things were allowed to exist.

“Thank you,” Sunoo whispered, voice hoarse. He paid, stepped out, and pulled his suitcase behind him.

The moment he entered, the warm smell of vanilla and freshly ground coffee wrapped around him. Soft indie music hummed from ceiling speakers. Sunoo found a quiet corner by the window, placed his suitcase beside him, and exhaled shakily.

His eyes were still swollen. He wiped them with a tissue, patting his cheeks gently like he was calming a child. Then he opened his laptop. The screen lit his face as he scrolled through the places he’d been looking at earlier.

Photos of peaceful towns. Old temples. Quiet gardens. Historical districts.

He didn’t even know where he wanted to go, he just wanted to breathe somewhere his memories couldn’t choke him.

He clicked open an article and a voice suddenly chirped beside him

“Oh! You’re looking at travel spots too?"

Sunoo startled slightly.

A boy who looked slightly younger than him stood beside his table, holding an iced latte with both hands.

He was very cute. Has round eyes, a smile as warm as the café lights and wearing a pastel purple sweater.

Sunoo blinked. “Ah—um, yes. Kind of.”

“We’re going there too!” the boy said cheerfully. “My boyfriend’s taking me. It’s our first long trip together.”

Sunoo blinked again and smiled. “That’s nice of him”

“Yeah!” the boy sat down on the chair across, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “So where are you planning to go? Tokyo? Nagoya? Or maybe Hokkaido? A lot of couples go to Hokkaido!”

Sunoo’s eyebrows rose. “Couples?”

The boy giggled behind his hand. “Sorry! It just looked like you were researching romantic spots.”

Sunoo’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Ah… no, I’m just… traveling by myself.”

“Oooh, independent! I love that!” the boy beamed. “Me, I’d get lost without Jo. He’s like my walking Google Maps.”

Sunoo blinked at the name.

...Jo?

Before he could ask—

“Harua,” a familiar voice called from behind.

Sunoo’s eyes widened.

Harua looked up. “Jo!”

Jo stood there, holding a tray full of sweets that Sunoo assumed was for him and Harua, hair falling into his eyes. He froze the moment he saw Sunoo.

“Oh hey,” Jo said, stunned. “Sunoo...”

Sunoo gave a small, awkward wave.

Then Jo’s gaze dropped to the suitcase.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. This is Harua by the way” he put his arms around the cute boy’s shoulder and Sunoo nodded. “So…Where are you going?” he asked carefully.

Sunoo swallowed.

He took a breath, a deep one, shaky but real.

“It’s… difficult to explain right now,” he admitted softly. “But… could I ask you something?”

Jo nodded. “Of course.”

Sunoo closed his laptop slowly.

“Could I… tag along with you two?” He hesitated. “Not the whole trip. Just… to your first stop.”

Jo and Harua exchanged surprised glances.

“Well, our first stop is Kyoto. You wanna go there?” Jo asks as he puts the tray down

Sunoo’s heart thudded painfully.

Kyoto.

A place he had been looking at for weeks without understanding why. A place that tugged at him. A place that felt familiar even though he couldn’t remember ever being there.

He nodded slowly.

“Yes”