Chapter Text
“Jiungieeee!”
The call cuts through the steady hum of Incheon Airport in the early morning. Jiung barely has time to turn properly before there’s a body barrelling straight into him. His suitcase rolls to a gentle stop at his heel as he braces on instinct, arms already lifting for the impact—his boyfriend crashing into his chest and wrapping himself around him, legs lifting off the ground to circle Jiung’s waist.
Jiung exhales, a soft laugh slipping out despite himself struggling to balance his suitcase and his boyfriend’s weight altogether. “Love,” he murmurs fondly, dropping the handle of his suitcase and tightening his arms around Keeho’s waist and bottom, steadying him after the impact. With practiced ease, he lifts him up and spins once, twice—the way he always does every time he’s back from his work, like a ritual they’ve perfected over time from being used to the long-distance relationship all the time. “Let me be ready for once before you jump so I can catch you properly, will you, love? One day we’re going to fall face-down together and I’m sure you’d hate that.”
“I don’t care,” Keeho mumbles, his voice muffled against Jiung’s neck, warm breath seeping through the collar of his coat. “I miss you.”
Jiung closes his eyes, pressing his cheek into Keeho’s hair as his grip tightens, pulling him closer by another inch—if that’s even possible, with the way a grown-man was draped over him like glue—at least, that’s how it must have looked to anyone passing by. He presses a kiss into Keeho’s hair and smiles softly to himself. His boyfriend smells like familiar shampoo and soap all over, smells like home, and something in Jiung’s chest finally loosens after weeks of tight schedules and lonely hotel rooms.
He miss him too.
“It was just a month, love,” Jiung says gently, teasing but warm. “We’ve been through longer separations than this, remember? I’m here now, love. I’ve got you.”
Keeho pulls back just enough to look at him, eyes already glossy with offence as a pout slowly forms. He drops his cheek back onto Jiung’s shoulder, looking through his eyes—as if challenging him to think otherwise. “Just a month?” he echoes. “Do you know how long a month is for me when you keep sending pictures of airplane wings and hotel ceilings instead of your beautiful face? I miss my boyfriend, not Italy! I can just Google that if I want pictures of Florence Cathedral and Castel Sant’Angelo, you know? With or without you sending them to me every minutes you’re there.”
Jiung chuckles, thumb instinctively brushing beneath Keeho’s eye. “I did send my selfies, love. Three. That’s a lot, coming from me. Hey, I’m innocent here.”
“Three selfies for the whole month,” Keeho huffs, finally sliding down from Jiung’s hold but refusing to fully let go, arms still looped around his boyfriend’s neck. “One day I swear I’m going to start threatening you for those selfies. Transaction. No selfies from you—no new gossips from me either. Let’s see who’s clingy now without your built-in yapper in your life.”
Jiung can’t help but laugh at the so-called threat.
They stand there longer than necessary, airport announcements droning around them, travellers weaving past with curious glances and tired expressions. Jiung feels the weight of his month-long absence in the way Keeho clings, the way his fingers fidget with the hem of Jiung’s coat like he’s grounding himself. It’s always like this when Jiung comes back from his packed schedule—Keeho turning into a clingy koala, refusing to let go as if the moment he does, Jiung will be boarding another plane without him knowing.
“Come on, love,” Jiung finally says softly. “Let’s get out of here now.”
Keeho brightens immediately. “Home?”
“Yes.”
“Like… straight home?”
Jiung raises an eyebrow. “Where else would we go, love?”
Keeho grins—mischievous and relieved—but Jiung still catches the sadness lingering behind the smile, despite all the hiding his boyfriend’s trying to do. “Just checking. In case you want to go to Eomma’s place first to catch up with your family. I can wait in the car.”
Jiung laughs quietly, guiding him forward to the exit with a hand at his waist. With his other hand, he reaches for his suitcase, a soft, knowing sadness tugging at his smile as it mirrors Keeho’s. “It’s okay. I’ll go there later if I have time. You’re the priority, okay, love? You’ll always come first for me.”
Keeho hums happily, basking in the way Jiung keep him close as they walk toward the parking lot, where Keeho’s car waits in the quiet early morning. It’s not even five yet, and his boyfriend is already here, waiting for him—like always. Jiung presses a kiss to Keeho’s head before moving toward the driver’s seat, ready to take them home.
The parking space in front of their house greets them with a quiet warmth, the lights Keeho turned on that morning before heading to the airport now dim and familiar—the kind of soft stillness that only comes after long absences.
Jiung closes his door and moves around to Keeho’s side, scooping him up mid long stories without warning. One arm slides beneath his legs, the other braces his back, lifting him easily into a bridal carry while Keeho continues his story uninterrupted. His legs dangle uselessly in the air, feet not even pretending to touch the ground as he talks nonstop, voice high and breathless, hands still gesturing for emphasis. Jiung smiles fondly as his boyfriend yaps the whole way home and keeps going even now that they’ve arrived.
My suitcase can wait, Jiung thinks. I’ll get it later.
“And then the sink started leaking again, you know?” Keeho says, waving his hands despite being carried. “And I swear, it only does that when you’re gone. Like it knows. I had to call the landlord out of my panic—you know how I get when the sink leaks, and he had the audacity to ask if my ‘husband’ was home to help, and I said no! Of course he’s not here. That’s why I called you, idiot—because my boyfriend was literally somewhere over the Pacific flying people to their destinations—reliable, not like you.”
Jiung laughs softly, arms secure as he carries him inside. “You survived, love,” he says fondly. “I’m proud of you.”
“Barely,” Keeho scoffs, tightening his hold. Then his gaze flickers up to Jiung’s face, guilt creeping in as Jiung brings them upstairs toward their bedroom. “I ate instant noodles three nights in a row, for your information. Before you find the trash in the kitchen.”
Jiung hums. “Really? I’m pretty sure I banned those before I left, love.”
“It was grief,” Keeho insists immediately. “Because I missed you.” He sighs contentedly and rests his cheek against Jiung’s shoulder. “You should let me walk on my own, you know? I still can walk, using my feet. You’re tired, Jiungie.”
Jiung only adjusts his grip—one arm firm beneath Keeho’s knees, the other steady at his back—carrying him down the hallway like it’s the most natural thing in the world. After countless hours in the cockpit, hands steady on controls, eyes trained on endless skies, this—this feels grounding. Real.
He lowers Keeho onto the bed gently, carefully, like sudden movement might shatter the moment. “I’m okay,” Jiung murmurs. “I insist to carry you, am I not?”
Keeho bounces slightly against the mattress, smiling up at him. “Shower now?” he asks, head tilting.
Jiung hums, already loosening his tie, his shoulders sagging now that the uniform no longer has to hold him upright. “Yeah. I’ve been in the air for too long.” He exhales, fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. “Can you start the hot water for me, love? I’d really appreciate it.”
Keeho grins as he sits up. “Anything for my hardworking boyfriend.” He swings his legs off the bed and stands. “Five minutes, okay? I’ll prepare your clothes too. You can lie down first. Rest a bit. You’ve worked very hard.” He barely takes two steps toward the bathroom before Jiung’s hand wraps gently—but firmly—around his wrist again, tugging him back until Keeho stumbles into his chest.
“Yah!” Keeho laughs, startled, giggles echoing softly in the room.
Jiung leans in, smothering him with kisses—cheek, jaw, the corner of his mouth—until Keeho is laughing helplessly, hands instinctively gripping Jiung’s sleeves. Jiung lifts him just slightly off the ground again, just enough to steal the breath from his laughter, before finally pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.
Keeho hums into the kiss, a quiet sound of contentment, smiling as Jiung lingers just a second longer.
“I miss you too, love,” Jiung murmurs when they part, breath brushing against Keeho’s mouth. His hands settle around Keeho’s waist, thumbs tracing slow, absent circles as their foreheads rest together.
Keeho blinks up at him, eyes bright. “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” Jiung murmurs. “Every time I land somewhere new without you beside me, it sinks in how far away I am from you. And I hate that—every single time. Because I miss you.” He exhales softly. “I miss you so much, my love. It never gets easier.”
“I know, Jiungie. I miss you more,” Keeho says quietly.
Jiung chuckles, nudging their noses together. “But I’m home now. That’s all that matters, love.” He kisses Keeho’s nose, voice dropping into something playful. “Be ready.”
“For what?” Keeho asks, already laughing.
“I’ll love you properly now that I’m back. Through and through. Again and again,” Jiung says, warmth threaded through every word. “Until you beg me to stop.”
Keeho bursts into laughter, pushing lightly at Jiung’s chest. “Can’t wait then.”
“Oh, please wait, my love,” Jiung replies easily. “Please wait to feel my endless love for you.”
Keeho grins and pulls Jiung back in for another kiss—longer this time, slower, like neither of them is in any hurry to let go again. It’s warm and familiar, lips moving together with the quiet certainty of something that has survived distance and time. Unspoken promises hum softly between them, settling into the space they share, into the corners of the house that has waited just as long.
When they finally part, Jiung rests his forehead against Keeho’s, breathing him in like reassurance. The early morning light filters in through the windows, pale and gentle, painting everything in soft gold. Outside, the world is still asleep. Inside, everything feels steady again.
He’s home now.
And for now, that is enough.