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The airport is dull all around, no decorations, few people, and almost entirely silent besides the sounds of luggage spinning around the baggage claim carousel, waiting for someone to retrieve them. Jiung had come early– much too early. Early enough to have seen families, lovers, and businessmen come to collect their things from the endless spinning. All of the suitcases from the last flight have been taken, all but one. A lonely brown roller, slightly flawed, color straining off the edges, only identifiable by the damage of use and time, otherwise entirely simple and forgettable. The longer it stays, the more focused he becomes on that lost bag, circling endlessly, much like his own eyes as they follow it around the loop each time.
Jiung begins to scratch his brain to remember what Keeho’s suitcase looks like. Even though he’s stood in this airport a hundred times already, he can’t imagine a single detail of his luggage whatsoever. Unable to recall a single detail, not the color, not the shape, not the damage. Jiung finds himself trying to imagine what it might look like. There must be scratches from pin-balling between here and there, now and then. It was probably a bright, loud color, so as to be unmistakable that it was his own.
Jiung’s eyes are heavy to the point of hurting. Though he swore he slept fine, something about entering an airport sucked the soul out of his body. Perhaps his soul had mended itself onto that lonesome piece of luggage; maybe that’s why he was so unable to pry his hurting eyes away from it.
A voice shouted, a voice loud enough that his soul then ran back into its body, “Jiung!” Jiung’s head whips around to see Keeho, who was running toward him excitedly. With no attempt on Keeho’s part to slow down, and no attempt on Jiung's part to step away, Keeho crashes into him, full force. The movement almost knocks the wind out of him– or maybe his soul again. Keeho’s arms tightly lock around him, squeezing him so hard Jiung’s sure he wouldn’t be able to escape if he tried. Keeho’s shaking him back and forth like a ragdoll, Jiung’s mumbling complaints, and groaning. Keeho is strong, buff even, which is something Jiung’s still not used to. Seeing him once or twice a year since he left during high school, it felt like Keeho was the embodiment of change. Not much ever was different in Jiung’s life, but when it was, somehow it all came back to Keeho. Keeho pulls back slightly from Jiung, just enough to force Jiung into eye contact when he asks, “Don’t you miss me?”
Jiung’s sure he’s never stopped missing Keeho. The day he moved away is probably not even when it started. Would he tell Keeho that? No, never. So what Jiung does say is just, “I do, but get off of me.” Keeho frowns slightly, and because Keeho had not listened to a word Jiung said all his life, of course, all he does is hold him tighter. Jiung sighs, “Ah, seriously?”
Keeho just engulfs him more. “Hug me back first,” He demands. Selfish. Keeho’s so damn selfish. He’s always been this way, like when he would ask for Jiung’s answers for homework he had been too lazy to do, or like when he would cheat off of his paper during tests. Jiung complies, just as he always had back then, awkwardly framing himself around Keeho’s form.
Finally satisfied, Keeho pulls away, “See, it’s not so hard.” With one last tap on Jiung’s shoulder, Keeho removes himself entirely. Keeho’s attention is then on the carousel in front of them. They stand there silently for a moment before Keeho announces, “There it is.”
Jiung watches closely as Keeho grabs his luggage. It’s new– brand new even. Not at all like he had imagined. “Is this new?”
Keeho raises a brow, “Huh?” Jiung points at the suitcase. Keeho continues, “Oh! Yeah. My suitcase was basically falling apart when I got home last time, so I had to get a new one.” ‘Home.’ It’s true, but it sounds so unpleasant to hear Keeho say that anywhere but here is home. A reminder that his presence is temporary. Jiung just nods.
Jiung leads Keeho to his car, trying to be nice. Jiung reaches for Keeho’s luggage to put in the trunk. Keeho stops him. “Why would I work out just to have other people lift heavy things for me?” Jiung groans and lets Keeho put the bag up himself. Jiung sits down, waiting a few seconds before Keeho opens the passenger's door and sits down next to him. “Wow, my chauffeur is handsome.”
Jiung shakes his head, “Obviously.” Keeho snickers.
The drive to Jiung’s family home is not far, but it is enough for Keeho to detail his flight experience. A nightmare; as was every flight story Keeho had told, and Jiung had therefore been subjected to.
Usually, Keeho just stayed at some hotel nearby during his visits, but this time, Jiung’s mother had insisted Keeho stay with them. There wasn’t a guestroom, which was the main issue, but Jiung wasn’t the type to argue with his mom. So here the two of them were, two grown men in a room barely suited for one. It was late, and everyone else in the house was already asleep. Jiung is immediately brought back to one of their childhood sleepovers, staying up late, being too loud, and getting in trouble together. Jiung shakes his head at the memories, slightly ashamed of himself for being so rowdy.
Keeho analyzes the room carefully, picking things up and inspecting them, as if to make sure nothing had changed. Keeho looks at the poster that’s been up on the wall for god knows how long. “You still have this Justin Bieber poster up?” Jiung’s face flushes as soon as he says it.
Trying to at least act as if he isn’t embarrassed, he doesn’t look into Keeho’s eyes when he replies, “I’m just too lazy to take it down.”
Keeho laughs, “Liar.” Jiung doesn’t attempt to defend himself any further. Keeho suddenly speaks again, “You know, Jiung, you really haven’t changed at all.” Jiung’s first thought is maybe you’ve changed too much. But then again, how true would that be? Keeho was still selfish, overly confident, and loud.
“Really?” Jiung asks, even though he certainly knows it is.
“Yeah, you’re still the same cute Jiung,” Keeho teases.
Jiung rolls his eyes, “You’re annoying.” Keeho shrugs.
Keeho sat down on the bed. Jiung’s bed. Jiung stood. “Do you remember when I would always spend the night here on Saturdays? Our houses used to be so close,” Keeho says. ‘Used to be.’
Jiung nods, “I remember you inviting yourself over and eating all of my mom’s cooking, yeah.”
Keeho shakes his head, “Don’t act like we didn’t have fun. I know you liked having me over the most anyway.”
“You’re so sure of yourself,” Jiung retorts.
Keeho shrugs and argues, “I know Theo didn’t come over as much as me.”
“Theo didn’t live as close as you did, and he had the decency to not bother me by constantly showing up at my door,” Jiung defends.
Keeho hums, “Mmm, I think if that was really how you felt, you would have just kicked me out.” Jiung stays silent. “Too shy to admit I’m your favorite?” Keeho mocks, because he’s the worst person on the planet.
Jiung ignores that, “You’re not sleeping on my bed.”
“Why not? That’s what we used to do.”
“Yeah, when we were kids.”
“I don’t get why it has to change now.”
“Keeho, get off my bed. Seriously. My mom even bought you a futon,” Jiung says as he gestures to the carefully set up futon on the ground. Keeho’s not convinced; he actually flops down on his back and sprawls out across Jiung’s bed. Jiung sighs, irritated. He walks toward his bed to hover over Keeho, “Dude, come on.” Keeho shakes his head, a grin plastered evilly across his face. Jiung grabs a hold of one of Keeho’s arms, tugging at him, “Move, you asshole.” It’s all pointless, Keeho’s much too heavy for Jiung to lift, especially given how tired he was.
“I’m not moving. Why don’t you sleep on the futon? I’m the guest, aren’t I?”
Jiung pulls with all his might. “Are you fucking serious? This is my house.”
Keeho grabs onto Jiung’s wrist. Suddenly, his grip is firm. “It is your house, isn’t it? And this is your bed?” Jiung freezes up. Keeho pulls Jiung’s arm closer, by proxy closing a significant amount of distance between their faces, “If you want to sleep on it so badly, why can’t we just share?” Selfish. Unbelievably selfish.
“What is with you?” Jiung asks.
“I miss you,” Keeho answers seriously.
Jiung sighs, “Don’t try to cuddle me. This is already weird.”
Keeho lets go of Jiung’s arm, “But when we were kids–”
Jiung cuts Keeho off, “Don’t push it.” Keeho nods sadly, but shuffles slightly to make room for Jiung in the bed. Jiung lies down stiffly, facing the opposite side of Keeho’s face.
“You’re not saying goodnight?”
“Goodnight.”
…
Jiung doesn’t close his eyes; he just stares blankly at nothing in particular. There’s a noticeable heat radiating from Keeho’s body next to him. Jiung tries to pretend it isn’t there at all, forcing his eyes shut so tightly they begin to hurt slightly.
“Are you asleep?” Keeho asks.
“No.”
“I don’t wanna be weird but…” It’s already weird. We’re two grown men sleeping in a bed together like kids. “Do you remember the day I left?”
Jiung swallows dryly at the question. Flopping to the other side, he faces Keeho and answers, “Of course I do.”
“I never wanted to leave, you know that, right?”
“I know.”
“You looked so sad that day. I was mad at myself for leaving. But I really didn’t have a choice. But…” Keeho pauses, “I do now.”
“What does that mean?” Jiung asks dumbly, because he really doesn’t know.
“We're not kids anymore, we don’t have to follow our parents around. I can move back here.”
“Don’t be stupid. You need to graduate from university, and anyway, your Korean sucks now.”
“But… I miss you.” How many times can you say that, especially when I don’t believe it?
“You don’t miss me, Keeho. You miss being a kid and getting to play around all day,” Jiung states.
“No. I miss you,” Keeho repeats seriously. “I can transfer to a university here. My Korean will come back fast that way.”
Where is this all coming from? Out of all the times Keeho has visited, why spill all of this out now? “You’re not thinking clearly.”
“No. I am.” Keeho sighs, “I told you, I never wanted to leave.”
“Then why tell me all of this right now?”
“The only thing worse than leaving would be losing you in the process.”
“You care about me that much?”
“Of course I do.”
Jiung doesn’t say anything; he just searches for Keeho's face in the dark. Physically, he knows it’s there, but yet even looking Keeho in the eyes isn’t enough to convince Jiung of his presence. Was it Jiung’s time to be selfish? Would it really be ok to say ‘yes, please, come back.’ Would he stop missing him even when he was right in front of him if Keeho did? “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“I love you too much.”
Keeho’s silent, dead silent, until, “I know.”
“We should stop talking about this.”
“Why?”
“It’s too late,” Jiung says simply.
“You’re just scared.”
“You know everything.”
“I know you.”
Jiung scoffs, “Just stop, ok?” Jiung feels terrible looking at Keeho’s face; all he can see is the boy he used to see every Saturday. He was so small, like Jiung’s words had hurt him so badly that he had reverted to a child right then and there. Keeho reaches out, and Jiung flinches at the sudden movement. His hand reaches Jiung’s face, grazing it gently, and before Jiung can open his mouth to ask why, he realizes the dampness of Keeho’s thumb as it swipes against his cheek. How embarrassing. Jiung sniffs in, trying to prevent his nose from running along with any more humiliating tears.
“Jiung, you can cry, it's ok. I’m sorry.” Surprising himself, Jiung buries himself in Keeho’s chest. Keeho wraps around him immediately, not giving Jiung anytime to back out. “I never wanted to leave,” Keeho repeats it, over and over. Saying it so many times, Jiung can tell Keeho isn’t reassuring him anymore; he’s reassuring himself. “I’m not leaving again,” Keeho finalizes. Out of all the times Keeho has ever visited, this is the only time his warmth has felt real. Jiung feels like he’s somehow stealing the heat from Keeho’s body with how deeply intertwined they’ve become. “Jiung, I love you.” Jiung can’t move, can barely think. He just lies there in Keeho’s arms. “You don’t have to say anything.”
…
When Jiung wakes up in the morning in Keeho’s bear-strength hug, he’s absolutely horrified. He hopes it’s too early for his mom to be awake, otherwise she could come in to say goodmorning any second. The sun is out, Jiung can tell by the window’s reflection, which makes Keeho’s skin look so radiant, but there’s really no way of knowing the exact time unless he could get out of this death trap.
Keeho’s eyes flutter open. Jiung watches silently. “Were you staring at me while I was asleep?”
“Where else am I supposed to look? I can't move.” Jiung moves the most he can, which is very little, to demonstrate his point.
“Before I let you go, I want to say something.” Jiung nods, not really having much of a choice regardless.
“I’ve been planning to move back for a while, so please accept it,” Keeho confesses.
Jiung sighs, “Of course you would do something like that without asking me.”
“How could I ask you? I knew you would say no.”
Jiung shakes around, trying to free himself of Keeho’s grip. Keeho releases him, and Jiung sits up on the bed. “You at least took time to think about it, right?”
“I’ve thought about this ever since I left,” Keeho replies.
“Ah, seriously? Do you think you’re starring in a movie or what? What kind of line is that?” Keeho shrugs. “I don’t think telling you no could stop you anyway. You never listen.”
“You should stop scolding me then.”
“Someone has to try.”
“Jiung.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
Jiung looks away, embarrassed, “You already told me.”
Keeho scoffs, “Ok? I. love. you.”
Jiung complies, like he always does. “I love you too,” he mumbles.
Keeho smiles, satisfied. He’s quiet, and it’s peaceful for a small while, but only that small while. “Do you remember when I kissed you by accident that one time?”
“Can you not bring that up right now?”
“Why not? Wanna kiss me? Go ahead.”
Jiung sighs, “You know, you’re the one who brought that up out of nowhere.”
Keeho shrugs, “Ok and maybe I want to kiss you. Is that a bad thing? And it wasn’t out of nowhere, I just remembered it, so I wanted to know if you did too.”
Jiung presses his mouth into a line, “Most people don’t forget stuff like that.”
Keeho snickers, “You wouldn’t talk to me for like a week after it happened. I remember that.”
“Yeah, because no one wants their first kiss to be a mistake.”
“I was your first kiss?”
“Well, yeah, we were like thirteen or something. Wasn’t I yours?”
Keeho stops for a moment, “I guess I never really thought about it. But yeah. Does that really count though?”
“Why wouldn’t it count?”
“Well, it was an accident.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“Then, can I kiss you for real?”
Jiung looks at Keeho. Really looks. Keeho’s face is slightly red, his eyes are ever so swollen from just waking up, and his hair is also a bit messy from the pillow. He watches Keeho swallow hard, which somehow compels him to swallow too. The truth wasn’t that he didn’t talk to Keeho because he was mad that he took his first kiss. The truth was that he could barely stand to face Keeho after realizing he had a crush on his best friend. All of those childish butterflies come back to him in an instant. “...Yeah.”
Keeho leans in painfully slowly, or maybe everything has slowed down in general. Instead of his heart rate increasing, Jiung’s heart feels like it’s about to stop altogether. Jiung grabs a handful of his bedsheets, just to keep stable. When Keeho’s lips finally reach his, Jiung’s reminded of every teenage daydream he’s had about this. All the times he had to shake his head to himself and tell himself, ‘snap out of it,’ leading up to now. The way he cried and wrote to his journal as soon as his mom told him Keeho was moving back to Canada. So many suppressed things were revealing themself, he felt like his head might just explode.
Keeho's lips are soft, but that was something he had never been able to repress, despite how hard the thirteen-year-old had tried to. The way he kisses is so clingy, much like every other aspect of Keeho. Clingy when speaking, clingy when sleeping, clingy when kissing. It just made sense. His bottom lip clinging to Jiung’s upper, his desperation so apparent, Jiung starts to wonder if Keeho had daydreamed about this too.
Jiung pulls away, not entirely out of breath, but definitely much too overwhelmed by repressed emotions to not at least take a break for a few moments. Keeho’s so dazed, his eyes foggy, like he wasn’t even present in his own body, just mindlessly looking at Jiung, panting. Jiung’s hand has gripped the bedsheet so tightly that he can see at the very edge behind Keeho that it’s started to lift off the mattress itself.
There’s a knock at the door that scares Keeho so much, he ends up falling off the bed and onto the futon. Jiung’s mom opens the door, unaware of everything she greets cheerfully, “Good morning, I hope you were able to sleep well on that futon, Keeho.”