Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sangwon always hated the drive into Lakeview.

Not because the town was ugly—it wasn’t. It was actually quite pretty, the kind people from the city romanticized in Pinterest boards with VSCO filters. Rows of pastel houses, porches draped in string lights, kids on bikes with the wind blowing through their sun-bleached hair. The lake looked like glimmering glass under the sun and the air smelled toasted marshmallows even when it was barely ten in the morning. 

No, the town wasn’t the problem. It was the memories.

His mom used to say summers in Lakeview were the glue holding their family together. “A place where time slows down,” she’d smile, brushing his hair off his forehead before dragging him to the water. His dad would roll his eyes but still slip an arm around her waist. Back then, they actually looked happy.

Now everything felt like a rerun of a show he didn’t want to watch anymore.

He pressed his forehead against the car window, watching the familiar houses blur past. Same flowers, same everything. He hadn’t been here since the divorce, and somehow that made everything feel worse.

“You’re sulking,” his mother said from the driver’s seat.

“I’m not.”

“You’ve been sighing for the last half hour.”

“That’s just breathing.”

She gave him a look he knew too well. The stare that said ‘I know you better than you think, Sangwon’. He ignored it and kept watching the road. A boy ran across the street chasing a dog. A group of girls were carrying a beach cooler with matching friendship bracelets. Somewhere, The Chainsmokers was playing on a speaker loud enough for the whole block to hear.

Lakeview didn’t change. It never did.

His mom pulled into the driveway of their little summer house. Pastel yellow, chipped in places, just as Sangwon had remembered. He climbed out of the car and stretched his arms overhead, letting out a low groan.

“Help me unload the boxes,” his mom called.

“I will. Just... give me a sec.”

He wandered toward the porch, dragging his fingers across the railing. The wood was warm from the sun. For a moment he let himself breathe it in. Maybe this summer wouldn’t be terrible. Maybe he could use the peace of the beach, away from the hustle and bustle of the city that he was used to.

Inside, everything smelled like lemon cleaner and nostalgia. His mom opened all the windows so the air could move, but it didn’t help much. The house was warm in that way summer houses always were, as if heat had seeped into the wood and refused to leave.

“You know,” she said, setting her purse on the counter, “Mrs. Kim told me her son’s helping out at the inn this year. You remember him, don’t you?”

There it was. As if Sangwon didn’t already have a messy trail of almost-relationships behind him.

“That’s nice,” he said, because anything else would drag this into a conversation he didn’t want to have.

He dropped his bag in his room and lay on the bed without bothering to kick off his shoes. He stared at the ceiling fan turning lazily, watched one of the blades wobble like it might fall.

Thirty days. I can survive thirty days.

He closed his eyes.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He woke up to sunlight slicing across his face and the noise of knocks on his door.

“Sangwon? Honey? You awake?” It was his mom.

“Mmh.” He rubbed his eyes. “What’s up?”

“Mrs. Kim invited us for dinner. Thought it’d be good to stop by, you know… since it’s been years.”

Of course. The universe wasn’t even trying to be subtle.

He changed into shorts and a loose shirt, ran his fingers through his hair until it looked purposely messy rather than actually messy, and met his mom at the door.

The Kim family inn was right at the edge of the lake. White siding, a wraparound porch, climbing roses that somehow never died no matter how brutal the summers got. Kids used to dare each other to climb up the vines at night, back when climbing things was enough of an adventure.

The door was propped open. Warm light spilled out, and laughter floated through the hallway. It felt like walking into a memory.

Mrs. Kim greeted them with flour on her hands and a hug that squeezed the breath out of him. She smelled like sugar and old books.

“Oh sweetie, look at you,” she said, cupping his face. “You got so handsome I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Heat climbed up Sangwon’s neck. He laughed awkwardly, a faint pink on his cheeks. “I just grew, Auntie.”

“And your hair! So stylish.”

“Mom,” someone called from the back, “I need more plates.”

He turned to the source of the voice, and his heart stuttered.

The boy carrying a stack of plates froze too.

Geonwoo.

Not the soft-eyed kid Sangwon vaguely remembered. Not the one who used to hide behind his mother’s skirt and blush whenever Sangwon asked if he wanted to play tag. This Geonwoo was taller, shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms, sun shaping his skin into warm browns and golds.

His hair was a little messy, like he’d been running around all day. His eyes were deeper than Sangwon remembered. Calmer too.

For a second, neither of them said anything.

Mrs. Kim clapped her hands together. “You boys remember each other, right?”

Geonwoo blinked out of it first. He set the plates down before he dropped them.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. His voice was deeper than Sangwon expected. “Hey.”

Sangwon swallowed. “Hey.”

And God, he hated how breathless that sounded.

Dinner was loud in that comforting way families are when they’ve known each other for decades. Sangwon’s mom told stories he wished she’d forgotten. Mrs. Kim made everyone try her “new secret recipe” which was definitely just the old recipe with more garlic.

Geonwoo didn’t talk much. He sat across from Sangwon, focused on his food, occasionally helping his mother carry dishes back to the kitchen.

But each time Sangwon looked up, Geonwoo’s eyes flicked away like he’d been caught.

After dinner, Sangwon slipped out before anyone could notice he was gone. His mom and Geonwoo’s had fallen deep into the kind of catch-up conversation that only moms could survive, digging through years of updates as if they were flipping through an old photo album. He figured he had at least twenty minutes before they’d even remember he existed. He stepped outside and crossed the quiet road toward the stretch of sand he used to think belonged to him.

The breeze tasted the same as it always had. Salt, lakewater, and a little sweetness from the pines. He shut his eyes and let it wash over him. For the first time in months, something in his chest loosened.

He used to crave this. Summers where the world felt simple and easy, where he woke up with sand in his hair and freckles he hadn’t noticed the day before.

He remembered being eight and spending entire days here with Geonwoo, building lopsided sandcastles they swore were masterpieces. They would race up and down the shoreline until their legs gave out and their parents had to drag them home, still giggling, still sun-soaked. He remembered running into his dad’s arms, cheeks sunburnt and mouth sticky with lemonade, while his mom scolded him for tracking sand across the kitchen.

And then he was thirteen, slipping out the kitchen door after midnight, padding barefoot across the yard to the Kims. He and Geonwoo whispered under the blanket fort they’d made out of sheets, laughing at nothing until the sky turned pale. They’d sleep for two hours, wake up still smiling, and do it all over again the next night.

They used to be inseparable.

It was wild how fast people could drift, how easy it was to wake up one day and realize the person who used to know every corner of you now felt like someone you had to reintroduce yourself to.

A crunch of footsteps behind him pulled him out of his head.

“Sangwon.”

He turned, surprised at how quickly his heart jumped. Geonwoo was coming down the slope of sand, hands in his pockets, expression soft in the dim light.

“Oh,” Sangwon breathed. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” Geonwoo said, settling next to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. He sat close enough for their shoulders to almost brush. “I come out here most nights. But then I saw you, so I thought I should come over and, you know... catch up.”

“Oh,” Sangwon nodded, still awkward around him. “Yeah.”

Geonwoo brushed a bit of sand off his knee. “You look different,” he said.

“So do you,” Sangwon replied. “You got taller.”

“That’s what people usually do,” Geonwoo teased.

“Shut up. I mean, you got more, like..” Sangwon waved vaguely at him. “Adult.”

Geonwoo raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying I look good?”

Sangwon scoffed. “Relax. I’m not flirting with you.”

“You always were a terrible liar.”

Sangwon snorted. “Don’t be annoying.”

Geonwoo cracked a small smile. “Some things never change.”

The water reflected the moon in a long silver path, stretching right toward them.

They sat there for a while, the waves brushing the sand in slow, tired breaths. Fireflies flickered in the grass behind them.

“It’s weird, seeing you again,” Sangwon said quietly.

“Good weird or bad weird?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Geonwoo’s shoulder bumped his lightly, almost shy. “I missed you, you know.”

Sangwon’s breath caught. “You did?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Did you?”

The question slipped out of Geonwoo’s lips so easily it scared him. Sangwon ignored the feeling in his stomach and looked back at the water, because staring at Geonwoo felt too much like falling face-first into something he wasn’t ready to name.

“I did,” he said honestly. “I just... didn’t think you remembered any of that stuff.”

“I remembered everything,” Geonwoo said.

And he said it in a way that made Sangwon feel like a kid again, sneaking out at midnight with a blanket under his arm, already knowing which window Geonwoo left unlocked.

“How’s life been?” Geonwoo asked, leaning back with his hands buried in the sand.

“It’s been fine. Mostly.” Sangwon sighed, bringing his knees to his chest. “You heard about my parents, right?”

“Yeah.” Geonwoo breathed out, softer. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sangwon muttered, drawing shapes in the sand absentmindedly. “I saw it coming.”

He glanced over at Geonwoo. “What about you? How’s life been?”

“Busy,” Geonwoo said. “The inn gets packed in summer. My mom can’t carry half the stuff she pretends she can, so I’ve been helping out more.”

“That sounds like her,” Sangwon laughed lightly. “She used to make us carry her bags even when they were empty.”

“She still does.” Geonwoo rolled his eyes affectionately. “Nothing’s changed.”

“You still playing soccer?” Sangwon asked.

Geonwoo shook his head. “Not since high school. Got boring, I guess. You still doing music?”

“Kind of. Not seriously.” Sangwon traced a line in the sand. “I don’t really know what I’m doing right now.”

“That’s normal. Don’t worry.” Geonwoo said simply. Sangwon glanced over at him for a moment, a little surprised at how oddly reassuring that felt.

They fell into silence again, the kind that’s quiet and comfortable. Like the pause between breaths.

Sangwon stretched his arms over his head, groaning softly. “God, I’m tired.”

“Long day?”

“Long life,” Sangwon joked. “But yeah. A lot’s been going on.”

Geonwoo pushed himself to his feet, brushing sand off his palms. “You should sleep. The first week back always hits the hardest.”

“You sound like an old man.”

“I work at an inn. It ages you.”

Sangwon laughed, standing up too. “Well, thanks for the... surprise reunion.”

“Anytime,” Geonwoo said, hands slipping into his pockets again. “I’m usually out here if you ever feel like escaping your mom’s conversations.”

“Trust me,” Sangwon said, “I’ll definitely be escaping those.”

They shared a small smile.

Geonwoo tilted his head toward the road. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” Geonwoo said, already stepping ahead. “But would you want me to just leave you out here alone?”

Sangwon rolled his eyes, but followed anyway.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When Sangwon woke up the next morning, the first thing he heard was birds.

Not the loud city pigeons that sounded like they were arguing outside his window every morning, but the small ones, the ones that chirped like they were warming up to a song. The room was full of gentle yellow sunlight, stretching across the wooden floorboards and creeping up his sheets.

For a second he didn’t remember where he was.

Then he noticed the lace curtains fluttering in the breeze and the stupid framed watercolor of the lake his mom always insisted on hanging above his bed.

Right. Lakeview.

He pushed himself upright, hair sticking out in all the wrong directions. His phone was buried somewhere in his blankets, but he didn’t bother looking for it yet. For the first time in ages, he wasn’t waking up to notifications or group chat chaos or reminders he didn’t want to deal with.

He padded to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, stared at himself in the mirror.

“Wow,” he mutters, inspecting his face in the mirror. “I don’t remember looking this fucking ugly.”

Downstairs, his mom was cooking something over a sizzling pan, humming some old ‘90s song she had played a million times during road trips.

“You’re up early,” she said without looking.

“It’s almost ten.”

“For you, that’s early.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed a glass of water. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Pancakes. The box kind.”

“So gourmet, Ma.”

“Don’t complain unless you’re offering to cook.”

He ate at the kitchen island, taking small bites, scanning the fridge for anything recognizable from his childhood. The magnet collection was still there; a jumbled collage of beach towns they'd visited when things were simpler. Two of the magnets were crooked, the ones he and his dad had bought together.

He straightened them without thinking.

His mom’s eyes softened for a second, but she didn’t say anything. They had gotten good at quietly sidestepping grief.

“Got plans today?” she asked.

“I thought I’d walk into town. See what’s still here.”

“You should,” she said, pouring herself coffee. “A lot changed, but also... not really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“That’s Lakeview for you.”

When he finally got ready and stepped outside, something in his chest felt different. The sky was cloudless, a big washed-out blue. Someone down the street was mowing their lawn. Kids yelled in the distance, probably at the public beach.

It was all so normal it almost felt unreal.

Sangwon shoved his hands in his pockets and walked.

He passed the old candy store, the windows now filled with beach toys instead of jelly beans. The thrift shop looked exactly the same, even the sun-faded posters in the windows. The corner café had a new sign, but the smell was exactly the same, roasted coffee and butter and something sweet.

He stepped inside, greeted by the air conditioning hitting him like a blessing.

A barista with bubblegum-pink nails glanced up, her smile bright. “Morning! What can I get for you?”

“Uh…” He squinted at the menu. “Iced vanilla latte?”

“Size?”

“Whatever the normal one is.”

The barista laughed and rang him up. “You’re not from here, huh?”

“I am,” Sangwon said. “I just came back after a really long time, so I’m a little unfamiliar with everything.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Sangwon wasn’t sure how he felt about that, so he just nodded politely.

He grabbed his drink and sat near the window, letting the condensation drip onto his hand. Outside, the sun caught the lake at just the right angle, turning it bright and blinding.

He sank back into the chair, sipping slowly.

Then the bell above the café door jingled softly. Sangwon didn’t look up at first. He was busy watching a flock of birds fight over a piece of bread on the sidewalk. But the voice at the counter made him blink.

“Hey, can I get an iced Americano? Large. And maybe one of those muffins with the sugar on top.”

Sangwon’s fingers paused around his cup.

He didn’t mean to look, but his head turned instinctively.

Geonwoo was leaning on the counter, hair damp like he’d showered recently, shirt slightly wrinkled like he’d thrown it on while rushing out the door. He thanked the barista politely, slipping a few crumpled bills into the tip jar.

He looked so normal. So human. So now, instead of rooted in the past.

Sangwon watched for a second too long.

Because Geonwoo’s eyes flicked over, as if pulled by instinct, and landed right on him.

“Oh,” Geonwoo said, surprised but not startled. “You’re here.”

Sangwon lifted his cup, shrugging. “Small town.”

Geonwoo huffed a soft laugh, walking over to him. “Mind if I sit?”

“It’s a free country,” Sangwon said, even though he definitely did not expect company this early in the morning.

Geonwoo slid into the seat across from him, smile easy and charming across his face.

“I didn’t expect to see you here this early.” He said, taking a sip of his drink. “Reminds me of when we were little. You’d come here every morning and ask for the pink donuts just because they were pink.”

Sangwon laughed softly, something warm blooming in his chest at the memory. “I didn’t even like the taste of those.”

Geonwoo laughed with him, nose crinkling up in a way Sangwon had never noticed. “You’d take one bite and make me eat the rest every single time. I’d try to convince you not to buy them anymore but you’d whine, saying they might’ve made it a different way this time.”

Sangwon scoffed playfully. “I was 9. Don’t be a dick.”

The bakery’s morning chatter hummed around them. It had only been twenty-four hours since Sangwon came back to town, but somehow his life already felt different, like he stepped back into a version of himself he forgot existed.

Before Sangwon could say anything to ruin it, Geonwoo broke the silence. “So what’s the plan today? Besides eating a donut you hate for old times’ sake.”

Sangwon snorted. “Absolutely not. I’m staying far away from those.”

“Mhm. Coward.”

“You’re so annoying.”

Geonwoo just lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, but you missed me.”

Sangwon shrugged, playing it off. “Maybe a little.”

Geonwoo’s smile softened at the edges, like the admission landed somewhere close.

“Well, in that case,” he said, fingers drumming on the table, his foot nudging Sangwon’s under it, “lucky you. I’m free all day.”

Sangwon raised a brow. “Are you… offering your services or something?”

“Wow. You make it sound like a job.”

“Isn’t hanging out with you one?”

Geonwoo laughed. “Then consider it volunteer work.”

“Stop being like this.” Sangwon muttered, chewing at his straw.

Geonwoo raised his brows. “Like what?”

“Nothing, I just..” Sangwon sucked in a breath, looking out the window, trying to sort out the jumbled words in his head. “I didn’t think you’d care this much, you know. That I’m back.”

It was the first real truth he had said all day long, and he regretted it instantly. It hung in the silence between them, leaving him too honest, too bare.

But Geonwoo didn’t tease him. His voice just dropped into a lower tone, one that made Sangwon feel weird in his chest, saying, “Sangwon, of course I care.”

It was the way he said it—genuine, like it’s something that shouldn’t even be questioned. Something obvious.

“I literally disappeared on you without saying anything.”

Geonwoo leaned back in his chair, eyes still on him. “You didn’t disappear, you just... went somewhere else for a while. ”

“That’s what disappearing is,” Sangwon mumbled, looking down at his feet.

“Not to me.” Geonwoo interrupted a little too quickly. Then, he cleared his throat, backtracking a little.

“I did miss you. I did spend a long time wondering where you had gone and why you weren’t coming back, but it’s not your fault anyway. So stop feeling bad about it.”

The words settled in the pit of Sangwon's stomach. He knew he was blushing by now, an embarrassingly light pink dusted over his cheeks.

He took a sip of his drink to hide it. The coffee was too cold. His heart was too warm. Everything felt off balance.

“Okay,” Sangwon said finally, shaking his head a little. “Let’s say I actually do want to hang out today. Hypothetically.”

Geonwoo’s mouth lifted into a smile. “Hypothetically,” he repeated, nodding slowly. “I’d say you should let me show you around.”

“I grew up here.”

“Still.” Geonwoo shrugged. “You left. Things changed. You might’ve changed too.”

Sangwon laughed softly. “Are you calling me rusty?”

“I’m saying it’d be nice to get to know you again.”

Sangwon’s breath caught in his throat. “Oh. Right.”

Outside, someone laughed. A bell rang. The whole town started to feel familiar and a little too much like home. And Sangwon, without meaning to, started to imagine what today could look like with Geonwoo by his side. Like they used to back when they were younger.

He exhaled slowly. “Okay,” he says. “Show me.”

Geonwoo grinned, bright enough to make Sangwon’s pulse jump.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Geonwoo led him down Main Street, pointing out every tiny update as if he’d been preparing a tour for months. He pointed at a new surf shop that definitely wasn’t here three summers ago. “This place has board rentals now. I go out on the water some mornings.”

Sangwon blinked at him. “You? Sporty now?”

“Wow. Rude.”

“I’m just saying.” Sangwon bumped his shoulder into Geonwoo’s, light and teasing. “You’ve got, like, a tan. That’s new.”

Geonwoo gave him a look. “I’ve always gone outside.”

“Lies.” Sangwon said. “You were allergic to going outside.”

“I was allergic to you dragging me to the beach at six in the morning.”

They both shared a quiet laugh at that, oddly comfortable. For a moment, Sangwon almost forgot he just got here a day ago, after years too, at that.

It slipped out before he even really thought about it.

“Sooo..” he swung his cup casually. “You got a girlfriend yet?”

Geonwoo blinked. “What?”

“You know,” Sangwon grinned. “Pretty boy like you? I’m sure someone tried.”

Geonwoo slowed a little. “Uh… no. No girlfriend.”

Sangwon raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Huh.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t expect that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Sangwon said with a shrug. “You just… seem like the type people would go for.”

Geonwoo huffed out a quiet laugh. “People go for all kinds of types. Doesn’t mean I go for them back.”

“Wow. Mysterious.”

“Not mysterious,” Geonwoo insisted. “Just picky.”

“Picky?” Sangwon gave him an exaggerated once-over. “Okay, so what’s your type then?”

Geonwoo shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, smile pressed thin. “Not sure you’d believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Geonwoo glanced at him, just a quick flick of his eyes, then looked away again before Sangwon could read anything in it. “..Maybe another time.”

Sangwon groaned dramatically. “You’re no fun. I tell you embarrassing stuff all the time.”

“You’ve been here for less than a day.”

“And I’ve already told you embarrassing stuff.”

“Fair.”

They walked a few more steps before Sangwon nudged him again, this time a little more playful.

“What about a boyfriend then?”

Geonwoo actually choked a little on his own breath. “Sangwon.”

“What?” He laughed. “I’m being inclusive.”

“You’re being annoying,” Geonwoo muttered, ears turning the faintest shade of red.

Sangwon didn’t notice. He was too busy squinting up at the sky like he was doing some serious thinking. “So… no girlfriend. No boyfriend. Wow. Dry spell?”

“It’s not a dry spell,” Geonwoo protested, voice edging toward flustered. “I’m just… not looking.”

“Lame.”

“It’s not lame.”

“Feels lame.”

“Feels peaceful,” Geonwoo said under his breath.

Sangwon just grinned and poked his side. “Well, guess I’ll have to set you up with someone cute this summer.”

Geonwoo rolled his eyes. “Sure. Have a try.”

It was supposed to shut Sangwon up. It did the opposite.

His whole face lit up. “Oh, I’m so doing this. Okay, tell me what you like.”

Geonwoo made a face. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Come on, how am I supposed to set you up without some guidelines?”

“You’re not supposed to set me up at all.” Geonwoo glared at him.

Sangwon frowned, starting to whine. “Geonwoo, please.”

Geonwoo stared at him. For one second, then two. Then, he groaned. “Ugh. Fine.”

He took a moment to think, before answering, “I guess… I like someone who’s sharp.”

Sangwon blinked. “Sharp?”

“Yeah. Someone quick. Someone who doesn’t let me win arguments easily.”

“So… someone who fights back.”

“Not fights,” Geonwoo corrected. “Just someone who keeps me on my toes.”

Sangwon grinned. “Okay. Smart mouth. Got it.”

“And they should be curious,” Geonwoo added. “About everything.”

Sangwon scoffed. “Sounds like you just want someone fun.”

“No,” Geonwoo said, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Fun is different. Curiosity is… it’s like when someone sees something small and makes a big deal out of it. Or asks questions about stuff no one else cares about. I like that.”

“That’s oddly specific,” Sangwon said, narrowing his eyes. “Who are you describing?”

“No one. Shut up.”

“Uh-huh.” Sangwon poked him again. “What else?”

He shouldn’t have continued. He knew he shouldn’t. But Sangwon was looking at him with that stupid wide-open grin he hadn’t seen in years, and the words slipped out before he had time to stop them.

“I like someone who doesn’t pretend to be confident when they’re not,” Geonwoo said. “Someone who acts bold but gets flustered easily. The kind of person who’ll tease you nonstop, but the second you tease them back they freak out.”

Sangwon snorted. “So you want... a hypocrite?”

“Basically.”

“So feisty, curious, and hypocritical. You’re really fuckin’ weird, man.”

Geonwoo shrugged lightly. “Now you get why I’m still single.”

Sangwon’s cheeks puffed out in thought. “Okay. Okay. I can work with this. I definitely know people who fit some of that.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. Totally.”

“You don’t,” Geonwoo said, amused.

“I do!”

Geonwoo snorted. “Sure.”

Later that day, they’d wandered down toward the marina because Geonwoo wanted to check on his dad’s old boat, the one that still sat tied to the dock like a loyal old dog.

Geonwoo hopped onto the dock first, boards creaking under his shoes. “Hold on a sec. The front rope on the boat’s been loose since yesterday. If I don’t fix it now, my dad’s gonna kill me.”

Sangwon leaned on a post, half-smiling. “Go on then, handyman.”

He expected Geonwoo to bend down, maybe tug on a knot for ten seconds. Easy. But nope. This man stepped into the boat like he’d done it a thousand times, grabbed the rope, and started working through it with practiced hands. And Sangwon realized instantly.

Oh.

The afternoon light hit Geonwoo in the most seductive way, turning his skin gold, glinting along the muscle in his arms every time he pulled the rope taut. The boat rocked gently under him, but he barely swayed.

He wrapped the rope around his forearm to tighten the slack. Sangwon swore he had never seen anything more attractive in his life.

“What’re you staring at?” Geonwoo muttered without looking up.

Sangwon nearly choked. “I’m not.”

Geonwoo flicked a tiny glance over his shoulder, amused. “Right.”

“Should I help?” Sangwon mumbled, just for the sake of being nice. He knew full well that if he tried to help, he’d probably just make it harder.

“No, it’s fine. I can do it.”

The rope was stubborn, and Geonwoo gritted his teeth as he pulled it through. His shirt stuck a little between his shoulder blades from the heat. A bead of sweat slid from his temple down the side of his face, catching on his jawline before dropping to his collar.

Sangwon’s brain just… stopped. He tried to look anywhere else—the trees, the sky, the water, literally anything—but his eyes kept drifting back like they were magnetized.

Geonwoo finally looked up. His smile hit full force, bright and charming in the way it always is, and Sangwon felt his chest do something. “Get over here.”

“Huh?”

“Come on.” Geonwoo beckoned him with one finger, still holding the rope in his other hand. “You said you wanted to help.”

Sangwon stepped inside, heart thudding far too loud for how casual this was supposed to be. Geonwoo held the rope out. “Here. You hold this part and pull tight when I say.”

He shifted closer, their knees brushing for a split second. Sangwon’s breath snagged. Then Geonwoo’s hand covered his, guiding his fingers into place, calloused and rough and so manly, for lack of a better word.

“Hold here,” he said, voice lower now, focused. “Not too hard. Just enough to keep it from slipping.”

Sangwon swallowed. “Okay.”

Geonwoo worked through the knot, explaining each step in that patient, slightly nerdy way he always had. Sangwon pretended he was paying attention. He wasn’t. Not really.

He was watching the way Geonwoo’s lips curved when he concentrated. The way one stray lock of hair kept falling near his eyes, and how he pushed it back, leaving a smudge of grease across his temple.

When the knot finally cinched, Geonwoo pulled back with a satisfied grin. “See? Easy.”

“You did everything,” Sangwon said.

“Yeah, but you were moral support.”

“You’re such a dork.”

Geonwoo wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, still smiling that stupidly beautiful, easy smile of his. “Dork or not, the boat’s not drifting off anymore, so I win.”

“Congrats, Captain.”

Geonwoo laughed and reached for the little plastic cooler wedged under one of the seats. He popped it open and handed Sangwon a cold bottle of water. “Here. You’re turning red.”

“I’m fine.” Sangwon said, but he took it anyway, grateful for something to put in his hands so he’d stop looking at Geonwoo’s.

Geonwoo stepped out of the boat and offered him a hand without even thinking. Sangwon grabbed it, letting himself be pulled back onto the dock. For a second, he didn’t let go. Maybe Geonwoo didn’t either. Hard to tell.

Then Geonwoo cleared his throat and looked out across the water. “Are you hungry?”

Sangwon blinked out of his brain fog. “Huh?”

“There’s a street vendor a little down the road. Makes grilled corn that’ll change your life.”

Sangwon snorted. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you’ll never go a day without thinking about it once you’ve tried.” Geonwoo nudged him with his shoulder. “Come on. Before he sells out.”

The sun set lower as they walked, gold turning into that peachy summer glow. Seagulls mewed overhead. Every now and then, Geonwoo would point something out without looking at him—an osprey nest on a pole, a boat he used to rent with his dad, the stretch of water where he fell in when he was nine and cried for a whole minute before pretending he hadn’t.

Sangwon was only half listening.

The other half was just… watching him. The way Geonwoo talked with his hands. The crinkle near his eyes when he laughed. The way his steps seemed a little lighter today, like having Sangwon back made things feel right again.

“You’re staring again,” Geonwoo said casually.

Sangwon blinked. “No I’m not.”

“You are. It’s okay though. I get it. I’m very handsome.”

“God, Geonwoo, you’re unbearable.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Geonwoo: Pool’s warm. Come over if you’re bored.

If you’re bored. As if Sangwon’s pulse hadn’t gone haywire the second the message came in.

He hadn’t even packed swim clothes. He showed up in black shorts and one of Geonwoo’s old shirts, the soft blue one with faded lettering. It felt stupidly sentimental, wearing something that used to be Geonwoo’s, but the alternative was showing up in yesterday’s jeans. No thanks.

Sangwon almost turned back twice on the walk over.

He told himself it was because he forgot a towel, or because he didn’t like walking in the dark, or because he wasn’t actually that bored. None of that was true. He was just... nervous. For literally no reason. Because it was just Geonwoo. The same kid he once shared juice boxes with and argued over skipping stones with.

Except now that kid was taller and handsome-er and had that stupid way of smiling like he knew something you didn’t. So maybe there was a reason.

He pushed open the wooden gate to the Kims’ backyard.

The pool lights glowed under the water like they’d swallowed the moon whole. Steam curled lazily off the hot tub in the corner. And Geonwoo was there. He glanced up, and that charming smile made its way right back to his face.

“There you are,” he said, leaning back on his palms. “Thought you bailed.”

“Why would I bail?” Sangwon said, pretending he didn’t need to compose himself for a second. “You texted me, like, twenty minutes ago.”

“Yeah,” Geonwoo snorted. “Which, knowing you, is enough time to chicken out at least twice.”

Sangwon’s mouth opened, then closed. “…Okay, maybe once.”

“I knew it,” Geonwoo laughed.

Sangwon tossed him a look, but Geonwoo was already tugging his shirt over his head, and—

Okay. No one warned him. No one said Geonwoo was hiding a torso sculpted by God and whatever the fuck else. Sangwon scanned him over, eyes running across abs and a faint trail between them leading lower that he absolutely did not let his eyes drift toward.

His shoulders were ridiculous. His arms were ridiculous. His whole existence was kind of ridiculous, if Sangwon was being honest.

Geonwoo didn’t notice his internal meltdown. He pushed his hair back, water dripping down his temples, and gestured toward the hot tub.

“Get in.”

“Shouldn’t we, like, ease into it?”

“It’s water, Sangwon. Not lava.”

Sangwon rolled his eyes, but his heartbeat was embarrassingly high as he slid into the hot tub, the warm bubbles rushing up his back. He sank to his shoulders, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Geonwoo joined a second later, thigh brushing his for a heartbeat as he settled in across from him.

The touch was brief. Nothing.

Except it didn’t feel like nothing.

“You good?” Geonwoo asked.

“Yeah,” Sangwon said too fast. “Fine. It’s just… hot in here.”

Geonwoo smirked like he knew. He didn’t. God, he better not.

“It’s literally supposed to be hot.” He replied, raising a brow.

“You’re annoying.”

“And you’re jumpy.”

“I am not jumpy?”

“You flinched when a bubble popped.”

Sangwon splashed him. “Eat shit.”

Geonwoo grinned, wiping water from his face. His hair was slicked back, a few strands falling forward again, and Sangwon had to look away before he did something embarrassing.

“So,” Geonwoo said casually, “you glad you’re back?”

Sangwon exhaled. “I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know. Don’t make me explain my feelings, dickhead.”

​​“I didn’t even say anything.” Geonwoo snorted, watching as Sangwon glared at him and sank lower until the water reached his chin, a faint smile on his face as if he knew exactly what Sangwon was doing. “You’re such a brat.”

“Ew. Don’t ever say that shit again.”

Geonwoo laughed at that, tipping his head back. Water ran down his neck, and it pissed Sangwon off how good he looked doing literally nothing.

Geonwoo studied him, gaze flicking from his eyes to his mouth for one split second too long. It was nothing. It was everything. Sangwon’s stomach swooped and clenched and did something medically concerning.

“You keep looking at me,” Geonwoo said.

“I’m literally not.”

“You are.”

“No I’m—”

“You so are,” Geonwoo murmured, leaning forward a bit. The water rippled around him. His knee brushed Sangwon’s again and didn’t move away this time. “You’ve been doing it since you walked in.”

Sangwon swallowed. Hard. “You’re imagining shit.”

Geonwoo’s smile tilted, slow and knowing. “Alright.”

That alright was infuriating. Like he was humoring him. Like he knew exactly why Sangwon’s pulse was hammering and was waiting for him to dig his own grave.

Sangwon kicked him under the water.

“You’re so full of yourself,” he muttered.

“Ow,” Geonwoo said, not sounding hurt at all. “See? Weird.”

“Dude, leave me alone.”

“You came here.”

“Because you asked.”

“And you came fast.”

“Shut up.”

“So fast,” Geonwoo repeated, teasing leaning into something cocky. “Didn’t even pretend to think about it.”

Sangwon forced a laugh. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have anything else to do.”

“Liar.”

Sangwon didn’t know what to do with the way Geonwoo’s eyes were fixed on him like he was waiting for something honest to slip out.

So he just looked away. “Whatever.”

There was a pause. Then Geonwoo’s voice dropped, just enough.

“You really don’t miss me at all?” he asked. It was weird this time. He didn’t say it playfully, it felt like there was something else, something real tucked under it.

Sangwon’s breath hitched. “Why are you asking that?”

“Just wondering.”

“Why?”

"I don't know," Geonwoo shrugged, eyes dipping to Sangwon’s mouth again, lingering there a second too long. “Feels like we’ve been dancing around something all week.”

Sangwon’s pulse thudded in his throat.

“What something?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“You tell me,” Geonwoo said softly, moving closer.

Sangwon’s fingers curled under the water. He could hear his own heartbeat. He could hear Geonwoo’s too, he swore he could.

Sangwon blinked like he was unsure if this was actually happening or if he was overanalyzing again, a shaky breath escaping his lips.

Everything in his body went quiet. His brain went still.

A frozen, breathless stillness, like one wrong move would tip them into something they couldn’t walk back from, and he didn’t know if he was terrified or starving for it.

Apparently, he didn’t get to decide.

Because the next second, Geonwoo was coming closer, hand lifting to cup Sangwon’s cheek, glancing at him once before leaning in.

He didn’t realize it until their noses brushed, until the heat of Geonwoo’s mouth was right there, until every thought he’d ever had dissolved into static.

Geonwoo didn’t hesitate. Not even a little. His hand found the back of Sangwon’s neck, and he pulled him the rest of the way into a kiss that hit like a shove to the ribs.

Sangwon’s fingers curled into Geonwoo’s shoulder like he was trying not to fall, even though he was already falling. And Geonwoo kissed him back like he’d been waiting for this all week, maybe all damn year, water sloshing around them when Sangwon shifted closer without even realizing he’d moved.

Their teeth bumped once. Neither of them cared.

When they finally broke apart, it wasn’t graceful. Their mouths dragged a little, breath catching in the space between them. Geonwoo’s pupils were blown. Sangwon could feel his own pulse in his fingertips, his throat, everywhere.

He stared. Geonwoo stared back.

“..Fuck.”

Geonwoo huffed a quiet laugh, like he couldn’t believe this was happening either. His lips were red. He looked unfairly good. And he looked at Sangwon like he wanted to ruin him.

“Yeah,” Geonwoo murmured, voice a little rough. “Come here.”

Sangwon didn’t even get the chance to think.

Geonwoo grabbed his waist and pulled him forward until Sangwon practically toppled into his lap. Sangwon’s thighs slid around Geonwoo automatically, knees bracketing his hips, chest pressed against chest.

Sangwon scrambled, like he didn’t know where to put his hands.

No, that was a lie. He knew exactly where he wanted to put them. Everywhere. On Geonwoo’s stupid broad shoulders. On his jaw. In his hair. Gripping the sides of his neck like he was scared this was all a dream.

So he did all of it.

He kissed Geonwoo harder, fingers sliding into the damp strands at the back of his head, and Geonwoo made this deep sound in his throat that Sangwon felt all the way down his spine.

Water kept splashing over the edge of the hot tub every time they moved. Someone was going to hear them if they weren’t careful, but neither of them cared. Not even a little.

“Holy shit,” Geonwoo breathed into his mouth, like he had no idea what else to say.

“Shut up,” Sangwon whispered back, kissing him again. His lips brushed Geonwoo’s cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth, like he couldn’t pick one place to land. “Stop talking.”

Their noses bumped. Their teeth clicked once. Sangwon nearly slipped but Geonwoo grabbed him before he could fall, and that turned into another kiss, deeper this time, their breaths mixing in the warm steam rising around them.

Sangwon felt dizzy in the best possible way.

Geonwoo’s thumb brushed under his jaw, slow and soft in a way that didn’t match how desperate their mouths were. It made Sangwon shiver, leaning into it without meaning to.

“You okay?” Geonwoo asked, voice low, lips still touching his.

“No,” Sangwon whispered, not pulling back. “Keep going.”

Geonwoo laughed low and obeyed, kissing him again. His hand slid up Sangwon’s back, guiding him a little closer until their chests pressed together, water rippling around them. Sangwon’s fingers curled into Geonwoo’s shoulder, holding on like he needed the anchor.

Every kiss got deeper, lazier, hungrier, like neither of them wanted to come up for air. Geonwoo kept catching Sangwon’s bottom lip, soft but insistent, and Sangwon kept making these tiny noises he hoped to God weren’t as obvious as they felt.

At one point Sangwon pulled back just enough to breathe, but Geonwoo chased his mouth like he couldn’t stand the space.

“Come here,” Geonwoo murmured, voice dragging, and Sangwon practically melted as he leaned in again.

Geonwoo kissed him slow. Then fast. Then slow again, like he was figuring out what Sangwon liked by instinct alone.

Sangwon didn’t even realize he’d whispered his name — “Geonwoo…” — until he felt the way Geonwoo’s fingers tightened on his waist in response.

He pulled back half an inch. Just enough for their lips to brush when he spoke.

“Yeah?” Geonwoo breathed.

Sangwon had no fucking idea what he meant to say. So he kissed him again instead.

For a second, everything clicked back into place. Geonwoo’s mouth softened, like muscle memory kicking in. His hand slid a little higher on Sangwon’s back, thumb pressing gently between his shoulder blades.

And then something changed.

The thought hit him out of nowhere. The kisses were still good. Too good, even. That was the problem. His head felt fuzzy, his body saying yes yes yes while something else was tugging him back. His chest tightened for no clear reason, heart tripping over itself like it always did when things started to matter and there was something to lose.

He broke the kiss with a soft sound, barely more than a breath.

Geonwoo followed instinctively, lips chasing for half a second before he realized Sangwon wasn’t leaning in anymore.

“Hey,” Geonwoo murmured, confused but gentle. “What’s wrong?”

Sangwon didn’t answer right away. He stared at Geonwoo’s mouth, then his eyes, like he was trying to memorize them before doing something stupid.

“I—” He swallowed, then pulled back another inch. “I think I should go.”

Geonwoo blinked. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Sangwon said quickly, already scrambling for something that sounded reasonable. “It’s late. And I’m tired. And—yeah. I just… I’m sorry.”

“That’s it?” Geonwoo asked, trying to keep his voice even. “You were just—”

“I know,” Sangwon cut in, a little too fast. He forced a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just being weird.”

He stepped back, water sloshing around his thighs. The distance hurt more than he expected. Geonwoo’s hands dropped to his own knees, like he didn’t know what to do with them anymore.

“Sangwon,” he said, softer now. “Did I do something?”

Sangwon shook his head immediately. “No. God, no. You didn’t. It’s just—”

Just what?

Just him. Always him.

“I just need a second,” he muttered, already turning away. “I’m sorry.”

Geonwoo frowned, clearly not following, but Sangwon couldn’t bring himself to explain. Not like this. Not when his heart was still racing and his head felt like a mess.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Sangwon said, already stepping out of the hot tub. He grabbed his towel, hands clumsy, refusing to look back for too long.

Geonwoo didn’t stop him.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Sangwon first heard about her in passing while he and Geonwoo were washing dishes after dinner.

“My mom’s friend’s daughter is visiting for a few weeks,” Geonwoo said, drying a plate. “Haven’t seen her since we were kids, but she’s our age.”

Sangwon didn’t think anything of it at the time. People came and went in their neighborhood all the time. And Geonwoo had a lot of old connections, with how close their families were. It wasn’t weird.

At least, it wasn’t until she showed up.

Hana arrived the next afternoon, pretty as hell, stunning in the way that made everyone smile at her without even thinking. She hugged Geonwoo like they were siblings who grew up glued at the hip, laughing at something his mom said, effortlessly sliding into the kitchen like she’d been there every weekend of her life.

Sangwon hated how she fit.

But he didn’t hate her. That was the worst part.

She was sweet. Ridiculously sweet. She complimented his jewelry, asked him about his classes, laughed at his jokes in this soft way that made him feel guilty for wanting to throw her out the window.

And the whole time, Geonwoo didn’t even notice a thing. He was just… normal. He was polite to her. Gentle like he always is.

Which made it worse.

Because she was beautiful. Pretty in a soft, natural way Sangwon could never compete with. Nice in a way that wasn’t annoying. Funny in a way that made Sangwon actually laugh before remembering he was supposed to be upset.

And Sangwon hated himself for noticing all of that.

He wasn’t even supposed to feel this. They kissed once. In a hot tub. And they didn’t talk about it after either. No confessions, no promises, no "what are we now?”

They weren’t anything.

So when the jealousy hit his stomach, small and sharp, he swallowed it like it was nothing. He forced a smile, made conversation, played along with everything, because that’s what he was good at. Trained to shove down every uncomfortable feeling until it dissolved into something harmless.

He convinced himself he was being dramatic. That he had no right to feel anything weird about Geonwoo laughing a little too easily with her, and that he shouldn’t think too deeply into how close they stood or how familiar she seemed by his side.

It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re not even dating. Don’t be stupid.

He repeated it in his head every time he caught them talking alone at the counter. Every time she playfully nudged Geonwoo’s shoulder. Every time Geonwoo didn’t look at him first.

But that didn’t stop the quiet ache of wanting to stand where she stood.

He ignored it, because it’s not like Geonwoo would ever think of him that way anyway. Not when someone like her existed.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The whole thing happened at a family lunch.

Nothing fancy. Just a long table in Geonwoo’s backyard, too many chairs squeezed together, adults talking over each other, the usual chaos Sangwon was used to after growing up basically glued to this household.

Sangwon slipped in a little late, tugging at the hem of his shirt, trying not to overthink how he’d spent the whole walk there telling himself to relax. He wasn’t going to act weird tonight. He wasn’t.

But the second he stepped through the doorway, Geonwoo looked up from the couch. His face softened like someone had let sunlight in. It was small, just a shift around his eyes, but Sangwon felt it all the way in his chest. He tried to ignore it and kept his gaze low, pretending he was looking for a place to sit.

There was an empty chair right beside Geonwoo.

And before Sangwon could even take a full breath, Geonwoo lightly tapped the seat with two fingers, almost absently, like he’d been saving it without even thinking.

Come here. Sit next to me.

Sangwon froze for a moment, and he could feel the way it scrambled every excuse he’d rehearsed in his head.

So he looked away. He pretended he didn’t see the gesture and moved across the room, choosing a spot on the far end of the couch instead. Neutral, safe, impossible to misinterpret. He sat down slowly, careful not to make eye contact.

Across the room, Geonwoo’s hand dropped from the empty seat.

Before either of them could say a word, Hana stepped in from the kitchen holding a glass of iced tea.

Her voice was soft. “Is anyone sitting here?”

Geonwoo didn’t answer immediately. There was a moment of silence, and Sangwon felt like it was directed right at him.

Then Geonwoo glanced across the room, at Sangwon. Jaw tight, eyes sharp with something he wasn’t showing to anyone else.

Sangwon swallowed hard and forced his gaze onto his lap. When he didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even try to go over, Geonwoo finally answered Hana.

“No,” he said quietly. “Go ahead.”

She smiled and took the seat.

Geonwoo didn’t laugh much that night. Not even when one of Hana’s jokes landed exactly the way it always did. He kept glancing over, eyes dark with confusion and hurt. And every time Sangwon felt those eyes on him, his chest tightened.

He wanted to look back. He really did.

But he just pressed his fingers together under the table and kept his face neutral, telling himself he’d done the right thing. He was giving Geonwoo space. Letting him sit with someone he clearly enjoyed talking to. Not inserting himself where he didn’t belong.

Still, the lump in his throat kept rising every time he felt Geonwoo watching him like he was trying to solve a problem that hadn’t existed yesterday.

He convinced himself he was doing Geonwoo a favor. He convinced himself everything was fine.

But across the room, Geonwoo’s stare stayed glued to him long after Hana settled comfortably in the seat that was meant for someone else.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Sangwon’s hair was still damp. He should’ve dried it properly. He should’ve stayed inside. He should’ve done literally anything else except walk out here like some desperate idiot.

But it had been twenty-four hours since Geonwoo last looked at him properly, and it was driving him absolutely insane.

So here he was, in Geonwoo’s room, sitting on the edge of his bed, chewing on his lip nervously. The overhead light was off, just the warm glow of the desk lamp spilling across the bed and the scattered clothes on the floor. It smelled faintly like soap and something clean, like Geonwoo had just showered.

Which, apparently, he had.

The bathroom door opened, steam curling out first, then Geonwoo stepped into the room, towel slung around his neck, hair damp and messy from where he’d clearly just scrubbed it dry. He was wearing sweatpants, bare-chested, skin still flushed from the heat.

He froze once he saw Sangwon. Their eyes met, and for a split second, Sangwon saw it. Surprise, yes, but also something else underneath it. Something that made Geonwoo go very still.

Then his face closed off. Without a word, Geonwoo looked away and walked past him. Sangwon turned, watching him cross the room, drop the towel onto a chair, and pull a shirt on like Sangwon wasn’t even there.

The silence felt so uncomfortable.

“Geonwoo,” Sangwon said finally, softer than he meant it to be. “C’mon.”

No response. Geonwoo kept his back to him, shoulders tense.

“You’re really just gonna ignore me?” Sangwon asked.

A moment passed before Geonwoo finally spoke, voice flat. “What?”

Sangwon deflated with a sigh. “So you were ignoring me on purpose.”

“Why wouldn’t I ignore you?” He asked, finally looking at Sangwon, and yeah, he was pissed. “You’ve been ignoring me first.”

The words hit Sangwon like a slap. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“Sure.” Geonwoo didn’t sound convinced.

“Geonwoo, I wasn’t.”

He didn’t respond.

Finally, Sangwon sighed. “Can we talk? Please?”

Geonwoo shifted, still not looking at him. “You can talk. I’ll listen.”

Sangwon stared at the floor between them for a moment, gathering confidence he didn’t actually have. “Why are you mad at me?”

Geonwoo scoffed under his breath. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“You know,” Geonwoo finally turned to him, voice sharp, “for someone who gets such good grades, you can be so unbelievably dense sometimes.”

Sangwon blinked. “Me?”

“Yes.” Geonwoo crossed his arms, jaw set. His eyes were dark with something Sangwon had never seen on him before. “I saved you a seat.”

Sangwon’s stomach dropped. “Geonwoo—”

“You walked right past me. Didn’t even look at me.”

Sangwon opened his mouth, but Geonwoo cut him off.

“And then she sat down. You know how weird that looked? How weird it felt? You didn’t even look at me the rest of the night.”

Sangwon felt his cheeks burning, unable to meet Geonwoo’s gaze. Hearing it laid out like that… yeah. Okay. He looks like an idiot.

“I thought…” Geonwoo swallowed, gaze flicking away just for a second. “I don’t know. That maybe I misread everything. Maybe I went too far.”

The words hit Sangwon square in the chest.

“You didn’t.” He said, then breathed out slowly. “I just... thought you needed space.”

Geonwoo frowned. “Space from what?”

Sangwon didn’t answer. He shifted on the bed instead, shoulders curling inward, gaze fixed on the floor like if he looked up he’d say something he wasn’t ready to admit.

Geonwoo then pushed off the desk and stepped closer, stopping right in front of the bed. His voice dropped, irritation softening into something else. “Sangwon... if I wanted space from you, you’d know.”

Sangwon’s jaw tightened. He looked away, fingers twisting into the sleeve of his hoodie. “You know what I’m talking about, Geonwoo.”

The night Sangwon tried not to replay every time he closed his eyes. The kiss that started and ended too fast, the one that left them both weird for days, the one Sangwon backed out of even though he wanted it so badly it scared him.

Geonwoo held his gaze now, searching his face like he was trying to line the past up with the present.

“Sangwon. We kissed that night. I kissed you first.” His voice cracked just slightly. “And you still thought I needed space from you?”

“You left right after,” Sangwon said quietly. “We both did.”

“That’s because you pulled away,” Geonwoo shot back, sharper now, frustration leaking through. “You said you should go. What was I supposed to do? Grab you and force you to stay?”

Sangwon’s chest tightened. “I just didn’t know what you wanted.”

Geonwoo stared at him like he was insane. “I kissed you.”

“That doesn’t mean you actually liked me.”

The words slipped out before Sangwon could stop them.

Geonwoo’s expression shifted instantly. Frustration gave way to disbelief, then something more raw underneath it.

“..You think I kissed you for fun?”

Sangwon dropped his gaze again. “I don’t know. You’re… you.” He swallowed. “You’re confusing.”

Geonwoo let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “Are you serious?” His voice was lower now, stripped of its edge. Hurt, unmistakably so. “You think I’m that kind of person?”

“Geonwoo, no.” Sangwon sighed, rubbing at his face like he was already exhausted. “I just—”

“Sangwon.” Geonwoo cut in quietly. He was sitting on the desk chair opposite Sangwon now, arms resting on his thighs. He rubbed his forehead with a sigh before continuing, “I asked your mom where to get those stupid spicy snacks you like. The ones you’re always complaining about being sold out.”

Sangwon looked up, confused despite himself.

“I still have them,” Geonwoo went on, quieter now. “I didn’t even open them. I kept them there in case you showed up one day and acted like everything was normal again. Like… you still wanted to be here, with me.”

Sangwon stared at him. “But, that store’s near the station.”

“Yeah,” Geonwoo said softly. “It is.”

He waited. Watched Sangwon’s face like he was begging him to understand without having to spell it out.

“And I went all the way there,” he continued, quieter now. “Which means... what, Sangwon?”

Sangwon’s brows knit together. “That you... really like the snacks?”

Geonwoo let out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. “God. You really don’t see it.”

“Sangwon, if I went out of my way to drive across town just to get something you liked, because I wanted to make you happy, what do you think that means?”

Sangwon was silent for a moment, just staring at Geonwoo. Then the gears turned and it all made sense. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Geonwoo looked at him again. Really looked, this time. “It means I like you, Sangwon. I like you more than I know what to do with.”

The room went still. The hum of the lights, the faint noise from outside, all of it faded until it was just the two of them and nothing else.

“If you were just someone that I wanted to make out with casually, would I think about you this much? Would I feel like this about you?” Geonwoo’s tone softened. “I thought that was obvious.”

“It wasn’t,” Sangwon said quietly. His eyes burned. “Not to me.”

“Then listen now. I wasn’t ignoring you because of her,” Geonwoo said after a long moment. “I was ignoring you because I thought you didn’t want me. Because I thought I embarrassed myself and you were done.”

Sangwon couldn't even look Geonwoo in the eye. “I didn’t sit with you because I was mad,” he admitted. “I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“A favor?” Geonwoo’s voice rose a little. “How is removing yourself a favor?”

“Because you seemed close with her,” Sangwon mumbled. “I didn’t want to make things weird.”

Geonwoo stared at him in complete disbelief.

“Sangwon,” he said slowly, like he needed Sangwon to really listen and get it inside his head. “I don’t want her. I never did.”

He hesitated, then said it anyway, voice barely above a breath. “All I’ve ever wanted is you.”

Sangwon’s breath stuttered.

Geonwoo sighed softly and leaned back in the chair, eyes locked on to Sangwon’s, voice dropping. “Come here.”

Sangwon swallowed. “Geonwoo…”

“Just come here.”

Sangwon slid off the bed, bare feet hitting the floor quietly. He could hear his own heartbeat way too clearly, like it was trying to trip him up with every step.

He walked over slowly, stopping right in front of him, standing between Geonwoo’s knees close enough that he could feel the heat coming off him. For a second, neither of them spoke.

Geonwoo looked up at him carefully. Like if he moved wrong, Sangwon would vanish.

Sangwon’s hands shook a little. Not because he was scared, but because this felt big. Because there was too much sitting in his chest and nowhere else for it to go.

He lifted a hand. His fingers brushed Geonwoo’s jaw first, just a light touch. Warm skin, damp hair curling at his temples. Sangwon cupped his cheek gently, thumb tracing the faint edge of stubble, and Geonwoo went still.

Like a deer in headlights. Like someone who had been holding onto every emotion too tightly for too long.

Sangwon’s voice came out small, breathy. “I’m sorry.”

Geonwoo’s inhale was sharp, a little broken. His shoulders dropped, all the tension leaking out of him at once. His eyes lifted to Sangwon’s face, wide and dark in the low light, vulnerable in a way Sangwon had never seen from him. Not even close.

He looked young like this. Hurting. A little lost. Like he’d been keeping himself together with both hands and Sangwon just gently removed one.

Geonwoo leaned into the hand on his cheek like he couldn't help it. His breath came out slow and trembling, lips parted, eyes scanning over Sangwon’s face as if he was memorizing every little thing.

Sangwon’s thumb brushed his cheek again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Sangwon,” he said quietly, like it was a plea. His voice dropped even lower, shaky in a way that told Sangwon everything. “Don’t say sorry like that unless you mean it.”

“I do,” Sangwon said, just as softly. “I really do.”

Geonwoo’s hands came up then, settling at Sangwon’s hips like he needed to ground himself. And before Sangwon could even process it, Geonwoo tugged gently, pulling him forward. Sangwon went willingly, legs straddling Geonwoo’s, settling onto his lap.

“You didn’t even look at me,” Geonwoo said under his breath. “The whole time. Not once.”

Sangwon felt his chest pull tight. He leaned down a little, forehead almost touching Geonwoo’s. “I didn’t look because I knew if I did, I’d… want something I didn’t think I could have.”

His fingers slid into the strands of Geonwoo’s hair, gently pushing them back from his forehead. The touch felt oddly intimate; the kind you only did when you meant it. When you weren’t going anywhere.

Geonwoo swallowed hard. His voice came out stripped of all that usual confidence. “I didn’t want space from you. I wanted…” He stopped, overwhelmed, jaw tightening like the rest of the words were too much.

Sangwon’s thumb stroked his cheek again. “Tell me.”

Geonwoo looked up at him like he might actually fall apart if Sangwon pulled away now. “I just wanted you.”

Sangwon leaned down a little more, close enough that their noses almost brushed, that Geonwoo’s breath hit his lips. “You have me, Geonwoo,” he murmured. “I’m yours.”

Geonwoo let out a shaky breath that sounded like relief, like he’d been holding it in for days. Weeks. Maybe longer.

Sangwon's eyes flicked down to his lips, just for a second, as if checking if he was allowed. Geonwoo looked at him the way someone looked at their secret, their almost, their what-if.

“Sangwon,” he said softly, “come here.”

“I’m already here.”

“Closer.”

Sangwon almost laughed, but it got stuck in his throat because Geonwoo’s hands were moving on his hips now, desperate and a little unsure, like he didn’t trust himself not to let go.

Sangwon leaned down further, lips almost touching. “Is this close enough?”

“No.”

Sangwon’s heart tripped over itself. “Then—”

Geonwoo tilted his chin up, eyes locked onto his like he was letting Sangwon choose, letting him close this distance or walk away.

Sangwon closed it.

Geonwoo made a quiet sound against his mouth, barely there, like something he didn’t know he was holding finally slipping free. He didn’t rush it, didn’t grab or pull or chase. His lips stayed still for half a second, just there, making sure it was real.

Sangwon smiled gently into the kiss like he couldn't help it, tilting his head to deepen it, kissing him sweet and in a way that said so much more than what words alone could. 

They pulled back just enough to breathe. Sangwon was still smiling, brushing his nose against Geonwoo’s. “Hey.”

Geonwoo opened his eyes and really looked at him properly this time, like he was burning the shape of his face, the way his mouth curved when he smiled like that, into his memory.

“Don't leave like that again.” he muttered quietly.

Sangwon’s eyes softened more, if that was even possible. He leaned in again, kissing him again, slower than before. Like he meant every bit this time.

“I’m here,” he murmured against Geonwoo’s mouth. “I promise.”

Geonwoo didn’t reply right away.

Maybe it was that he didn't believe Sangwon's words. Or that he was uncertain of his own heart and what it wanted. Whatever it was, Sangwon saw it clear, flickering behind his eyes momentarily before closing off. 

“How long are you here for?” Geonwoo asked quietly.

It caught Sangwon off guard.

“…What?”

“In Lakeview,” Geonwoo clarified, eyes dropping for a second, voice careful like he didn't want to give off the wrong idea. “I mean. You said summer, but—”

“Oh.” Sangwon blinked. He hadn’t expected logistics, especially not now. He thought they were past the thinking part. “Uh. A few more weeks. My mom hasn’t decided exactly.”

Geonwoo nodded once. “Okay,” he said.

Sangwon felt something shift in his chest. He could see Geonwoo thinking about all the wrong things just like he did that night in the hot tub. 

He leaned down again, brushing their noses together, trying to pull the moment back where it was. “Why?”

Geonwoo smiled, but it didn’t really reach his eyes this time. “No reason. Just wanted to know.”

They kissed again after that. Still slow, still gentle. But different now, like both of them were holding back something else between their teeth, careful not to bite down on it.

Geonwoo rested his forehead against Sangwon’s shoulder once they pulled apart, exhaling.

“We don’t have to figure everything out tonight,” he murmured. “Yeah?”

Sangwon hesitated, just for a moment.

“…Yeah,” he said anyway. “Yeah. Of course.”

Geonwoo squeezed his waist, affectionate.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

That was that. 

After that night, nothing really happened.

Which made everything worse, because a lot of things should've happened.

The next morning, Sangwon woke up thinking he’d imagined half of it. The touching, the words, the way Geonwoo looked at him like he’d finally been allowed to stop pretending. But then he walked into the kitchen and there was proof of it.

Geonwoo, leaning against the counter, wearing an old hoodie Sangwon gifted him. There was a mug already on the table, steam curling out of it. It was Sangwon’s mug; the one with the faded cartoon fish on it that he always used when he came here.

All of the tiny details he usually didn’t think twice about felt like they held so much meaning that day.

“Morning.” Geonwoo said when he noticed Sangwon in the doorway, without looking up.

Sangwon froze for half a second. “Uh. Morning.”

Geonwoo didn’t say anything. He just nudged the mug a little closer with his fingers. It was coffee, just the way Sangwon liked it—lots of sugar, with just a smidge of cream.

Sangwon sat down without thinking. He wrapped both hands around the mug and burned his fingers a little, a quiet hiss slipping past his lips.

“Careful,” Geonwoo muttered, finally glancing at him.

“Eat,” he said, sliding a plate of food across the table. “You didn’t have dinner.”

Sangwon blinked. “You noticed?”

Geonwoo shrugged, still focused on the stove. “Hard not to.”

That was it. No follow-up. No about last night. No are we okay. As if last night never even happened.

Sangwon ate quietly, brain going a mile a minute. Geonwoo hummed under his breath while he cleaned up, some random tune Sangwon didn't recognize. It was domestic in a way that made him uncomfortable.

Not just uncomfortable. Worse. The kind that made you want to crawl out of your own skin because it felt like something important was happening and you had no idea how to deal with it.

They didn’t talk about it that day.

Which meant Sangwon talked about it constantly in his head.

Okay. So. He likes me. No—he said he loves me.

But like. What does that mean?

Does that mean we’re together? Are we supposed to be together? Why did he look so upset?

That night, they watched a movie with Geonwoo’s parents in the living room. Sangwon sat on the floor, back against the couch. At some point, Geonwoo dropped a blanket over his shoulders without asking and Sangwon had to pretend his heart wasn’t running laps.

Day two was worse.

Geonwoo kept doing these small things. Grabbing Sangwon’s favorite drink without asking. Handing him sunscreen at the lake. Wordlessly switching sides with him on the sidewalk so Sangwon wasn’t walking closest to the road.

None of it was romantic in the obvious way. It was just… care. And Sangwon didn’t know what the fuck to do with it.

By the third night, Sangwon was back in his childhood room, lying flat on his bed, staring at the ceiling where glow-in-the-dark stars were still stuck from when he was twelve. He hadn’t touched them in years.

He had been staring at the same one for, like, twenty minutes.

He thought about Geonwoo sitting across from him on the dock earlier, legs stretched out, talking about some bird he spotted near the lake. He’d been so focused on explaining it, hands moving, eyes lit up, that Sangwon barely heard a word.

They didn’t say if they were together. They didn’t say if this was temporary, vacation-only, Lakeview magic that evaporated when Sangwon went home. They didn’t say if Geonwoo expected something from him now. Or if Sangwon was supposed to act differently.

If I ask, is that desperate? If I don’t ask, is that cowardly?

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Geonwoo hadn’t been this stressed out since his driver’s test. And at least then, the stakes were just a license. This felt worse. This felt like he could permanently fuck things up in front of the person he’d apparently been in love with for half his life.

It had been nearly a week since they last saw each other, and Geonwoo hadn’t slept properly ever since. All he thought about during those sleepless nights was Sangwon. How much he wanted to be able to love him openly. How much he wanted to cut the bullshit and do what they’ve both been wanting to for so long.

Earlier, he was afraid of the fact that Sangwon would have to go back home in a few weeks. That this would end up temporary, as just some stupid summer fling that Sangwon would forget about and have to re-introduce himself to all over again just like he did this time.

But then he realized there was no point in living the present in fear of the future. If not now, when else? He was sure the regret of not taking the chance even when it was right in his palm, the guilt of what could've been, would've eaten him up much more than the heartbreak of Sangwon leaving would.

So here he was.

Geonwoo: Get dressed
Geonwoo: We’re going somewhere fancy

Sangwon: huh
Sangwon: i just woke up from a nap

Geonwoo: Ok well you have 30 minutes
Geonwoo: Wear something nice

Sangwon: is it like my birthday today or something

Geonwoo: Stop asking questions and just get ready

He chewed on his lip as he re-read the chat. There were less than fifteen minutes left until they had to leave and he still hadn’t picked out an outfit. He stood in front of his mirror for the nth time, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

“Mom,” he called out, “does this look stupid?”

From down the hall, his mom sighed the long-suffering sigh of a woman who already knew the answer was no. “Geonwoo, if you ask me one more time, I’m taking your mirror away.”

The shirt was navy, crisp, something his mom had bought him “for nice occasions,” which he had previously assumed meant funerals or family dinners where he’d be forced to sit next to distant relatives. He ran a hand through his hair, then immediately stopped.

No. Don’t mess it up. She told you to leave it like that.

His mom appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes scanning him up and down.

“…Wow,” she said after a beat, that fond mother's smile spreading over her face. “You look really nice, baby.”

She looked at him, soft and knowing. “You’re taking Sangwon out, aren’t you?”

Geonwoo froze. “How do you—"

“Honey,” she laughed. “He’s all you’ve ever talked about since you were eight."

"I have not—?" Geonwoo sputtered.

"I’m your mom, Geonwoo-yah, I know you better than you do."

He looked away, embarrassed. Then, he asked, quietly, “Is it.. too much?”

His mom cupped his cheek affectionately. “You’re taking someone you like out to dinner. There’s no such thing as ‘too much’. And if you think it’s too much, then it means it’s exactly right.”

He looked up at her, hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt. “You’ll be fine, okay? Don’t stress it and just be yourself, like you always have.”

“Okay,” Geonwoo said, mostly to himself. “Okay. Yeah.”

His mom gave him one last look, then turned to leave. Halfway out the door, she paused. “Also—”

“Open the car door for him,” she added. “And don’t forget to breathe.”

“I know how to breathe,” he muttered under his breath.

When she was gone, Geonwoo checked the time again and nearly cursed. Ten minutes. He grabbed his wallet, keys, phone, then stood there staring at them like one of them was going to explain what he was supposed to do once Sangwon was actually sitting next to him.

This is just dinner, he told himself. Normal people go to dinner all the time. It’s literally just food.

Except normal people weren’t taking their childhood best friend / first kiss / crush for 7 years out on what was very clearly a date.

His phone buzzed.

Sangwon: ur scaring me
Sangwon: do i need to bring my passport

Geonwoo let out a soft chuckle.

Geonwoo: 🙄
Geonwoo: You’ll be fine
Geonwoo: I’ll be there in 5

Sangwon: why r u even picking me up
Sangwon: we live like a minute apart

Geonwoo: Will you stop questioning everything???

“Drive safe!” his mom called from the kitchen.

“I will!”

“And be home by midnight!”

“We’ll see!” he yelled back, already outside.

When he pulled up in front of Sangwon’s place, he didn’t honk. He turned the car off and waited, fingers tapping nervously against his thigh.

The front door opened a moment later, and Geonwoo forgot everything he had rehearsed in his head.

Sangwon stepped out onto the porch, dressed better than usual—dark slacks and a nice navy knit sweater, like he’d tried not to try too hard. His hair was still a little messy, like he had run his hands through it on the way out.

He looked really, really good. In that effortless way that made Geonwoo’s heart pound in his chest.

Sangwon spotted the car and smiled, small and shy. Geonwoo got out before Sangwon even reached it, moving on autopilot. He opened the passenger door, hearing his mom’s voice replay in his head.

Sangwon stopped short. He blinked, laughing softly. “Oh.”

Geonwoo rubbed the back of his neck. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Sangwon said, still smiling, eyes flicking between Geonwoo and the open door. “…Since when were you such a gentleman, opening doors and all?”

"Don’t make it weird,” Geonwoo said immediately.

Sangwon laughed, warm, and ducked into the car. Geonwoo closed the door, then got back into the driver’s seat. For a second, neither of them said anything.

“You look,” Sangwon started, then stopped. “Uh, really nice.”

Geonwoo glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sangwon nodded. “Very fancy.”

Geonwoo gulped. “You do too.”

He cleared his throat and started the car before his brain could think too hard and freak itself out.

“Seatbelt,” he said, a little too quickly and on-edge.

Sangwon clicked it on, still smiling to himself. “You’re acting so weird, Geonwoo.”

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

Geonwoo rolled his eyes. “God forbid I’m a little nervous.”

Sangwon giggled quietly, fidgeting with his thumbs. “You’re so cute.”

Geonwoo froze for a moment, the words unexpected to his already anxious ears. Then, a smile spread over his face despite himself, glancing beside him for a split second. “I’m so what? Sorry, couldn’t hear you there.”

“Shut up,” Sangwon laughed, shoving him away. “Where are we going anyway?”

“Somewhere,” Geonwoo shrugged. “You’ll see. And you’ll like it, I’m sure.”

And then, as if it was perfect timing, the radio crackled and settled on an old station Geonwoo’s mom always listened to in the car. He was about to change it when the opening riff of Every Breath You Take came on.

“Oh,” Sangwon said, surprised. “This song.”

“You don’t like it?” Geonwoo asked, already hovering over the display.

“No—I do!” Sangwon replied quickly. “I just.. didn’t expect it.”

Geonwoo chuckled softly, hand dropping back to the steering wheel. “My parents used to play this every year. On their anniversary.”

Sangwon looked at him, a small smile spreading over his face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Geonwoo nodded, laughing a little under his breath. “We’d be on the way to a nice restaurant, my sisters and I crammed in the backseat, and they’d be singing along together, eyes more on each other than the road.”

“Which is why, now,” he added, “it’s kind of like a tradition for us.”

Something warm bloomed in Sangwon’s chest.

He always knew Geonwoo was thoughtful, but he didn’t know he’d be this intentional. That he’d pick this song, of all songs, because it meant love to him. Because it reminded him of something lasting and real.

And that he’d choose to bring Sangwon into that memory.

He smiled, voice suddenly softer. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Yeah?” Geonwoo finally looked at him properly as the light ahead turned red and the car stopped. Sangwon caught the faint pink creeping up his ears. “I guess it is, huh.”

“You’re blushing,” Sangwon said gently.

Geonwoo scoffed. “I am not. Stop staring at me.”

Sangwon smiled, then, almost shyly, started humming along when the first verse came in. It took Geonwoo a second to realize what he was doing.

“You know the words?” he glanced over, corners of his mouth already lifting in a fond smile.

“Everyone knows the words,” Sangwon deadpanned. “Come on, sing.”

Geonwoo laughed, shaking his head. “No. I’m busy driving.”

“That has never stopped anyone in history from singing,” Sangwon replied, immediately launching in louder this time. “Every move you make, every step you take—” He nudged Geonwoo with his shoulder, pointedly expectant.

Geonwoo sighed like he was being inconvenienced, but when he finally looked over, his eyes were soft, amused. “I’ll be watching you.”

Sangwon smiled, satisfied. They continued to sing, voices blending together in the small space of the car. Sangwon laughed when Geonwoo got a line wrong, bumping his shoulder lightly.

“It’s ‘lost without a trace’, dumbass,” Sangwon giggled, subconsciously leaning closer to Geonwoo.

“I said I haven’t heard it in a while.” Geonwoo groaned. “And I usually sing this with my sisters yelling over me, so excuse the rust.”

Sangwon looked down at Geonwoo’s hand resting atop the center console. Then, tentative, he reached over.

His fingers just brushed Geonwoo’s knuckles at first, like a question, and Geonwoo answered by not pulling away. He turned his hand slowly, like he was afraid of startling Sangwon. Their fingers slid together naturally, like they had done this all the time in another life.

The date itself passed in a blur.

The restaurant was fancy, the kind of place Sangwon had only ever gone to for birthdays. Geonwoo pulled his chair out without even thinking about it, looking a little proud when Sangwon noticed. Geonwoo had ordered for both of them before Sangwon could even decide on something, telling him ‘I got this, don’t worry,’ like a loser. They’d laughed too much over appetizers, pretending they were sipping glasses of wine instead of their fruity mocktails.

Geonwoo was listening to him, really listening. Elbows on the table, chin in his hand, eyes on Sangwon like nothing else in the room mattered. Sangwon had talked more than he meant to, rambling about gossip back in the city and childhood stories.

He realized halfway through how talkative he got around Geonwoo and how much Geonwoo absolutely loved that about him.

Neither of them noticed how quickly the night had gone by. They were now in front of Sangwon’s place, still in the car. Neither of them moved to open a door.

Sangwon unbuckled his seatbelt, then immediately re-buckled it again like he wasn’t sure whether he should leave now or wait. Geonwoo noticed and bit back a smile.

“So,” Sangwon said, dragging the word out, fingers drumming awkwardly on his knees. “That was fun.”

“Yeah,” Geonwoo said. “It was.”

Another pause, longer this time. Sangwon twisted in his seat to face him, knee bumping into the center console. Geonwoo turned too, one hand still on the wheel, the other resting uselessly in his lap. They both looked like they wanted to say something, but they couldn’t find the right words.

“I guess,” Sangwon broke the silence first, scratching the back of his neck, “I’ll—”

“Wait.” Geonwoo cut him off, already opening his door.

“You don’t—” Sangwon’s retort died in his throat because Geonwoo was already out of the car, hurrying over to the other side to open Sangwon’s door.

“Don’t do that,” Sangwon laughed quietly as he stepped outside, a little sheepish. “You don’t have to impress me.”

“Well, I want to,” Geonwoo says, his smile turning a little playful. “I’ve grown up with you, Sangwon. I know how much you like being pampered and spoiled, so don’t act like you don’t like it.”

Sangwon giggled, shoving Geonwoo’s shoulder. “God, you’re so annoying, you know that?”

They stood on the porch a minute later, side by side. Geonwoo shoved his hands into his pockets. “I had a really good time.”

Sangwon nodded too fast. “Me too. Like—yeah. Obviously.”

Geonwoo stared at him, grinning, then raised an eyebrow. They both burst out laughing.

“So… I’ll see you?” Sangwon said once the laughter had subsided.

Geonwoo scratched the back of his neck. “You live here… I kind of hope so.”

“Shut up,” Sangwon said, cheeks starting to hurt with how much he had been smiling.

Geonwoo cleared his throat. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“You better. Or I’ll assume you crashed your car,” Sangwon teased, poking his finger into Geonwoo’s chest, “with how giddy that little heart is right now.”

Geonwoo huffed and rolled his eyes. “Giddy. You wish it was.”

“Please. I know it is.”

It was stupid. It was perfect.

Geonwoo stepped closer like he’d done it a hundred times already. Sangwon’s back hit the door softly, wood cool through his shirt. For a half second, they both just stared at each other, giggling like idiots.

Then Geonwoo leaned in.

The kiss felt so much more heartfelt than the previous ones. Sangwon’s hands slid up Geonwoo’s shoulders without thinking, heart doing something embarrassing and loud in his chest.

Sangwon pulled back first, flustered, palms pressing against Geonwoo’s chest. “Stop—” he murmured, laughing under his breath. “Someone could see us.”

Geonwoo glanced around the empty street, smug. “Who?”

“I don’t know!” Sangwon said, cheeks burning. “Someone. A neighbor. God.”

Geonwoo smirked and leaned in just enough to brush their noses together. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll behave.”

Sangwon rolled his eyes, still blushing, then reached out and tugged Geonwoo back in by the collar for one last quick kiss. “Text me.”

“I will.” But Geonwoo still didn’t leave—he just stayed there looking down at Sangwon, smiling fondly like he was the greatest thing God had ever created.

Sangwon’s pulse was going crazy by now, solely by the weight of Geonwoo’s gaze on him. He chuckled breathlessly, a little embarrassed, and shoved weakly at Geonwoo. “Go! What are you doing—?”

“C’mon,” Geonwoo’s voice cut in, still holding that same heavy look. He hadn’t blinked once since he started staring. “Let me look at your pretty face just a little bit longer.”

“Geonwoo!” Sangwon laughed in disbelief, voice dropping to a whisper. “Seriously, come on.”

Geonwoo laughed too, velvety and so hopelessly in love. “Fine, fine! I’m going!”

He made sure to press one quick kiss to Sangwon’s cheek before leaving. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Ba—what?” Sangwon sputtered, butterflies erupting in his stomach like he was a middle schooler again. “Oh my God. Night, loser.”

He watched Geonwoo walk back to the car, hand hovering over the door handle before he looked back and smiled that pretty smile of his again, and Sangwon waved at him shyly.

He was barely inside his room when his phone buzzed in his palm. 

Geonwoo: I'm home

Sangwon smiled as he flopped onto his bed, typing back. 

Sangwon: okk
Sangwon: gooodniiighttt

Geonwoo: Already??
Geonwoo: Hmmm I feel like something's missing 🤔🤔

Sangwon: i love you geonwoo

Geonwoo: Woah
Geonwoo: Wow
Geonwoo: Can u say that again

Sangwon: LOL

Geonwoo: I love you so much
Geonwoo: I'm gonna marry you one day

Sangwon: go to sleep idiot