Archive of Our Own

“Will you just light!”

Chanhee hates outdated household appliances.

Granted, it’s been nearly two decades since any new ones have come out— any at all, for that matter. It’s one of those early 2000’s utility lighters, one that you could find in the junk drawer of any dilapidated home. It sputters to life every few seconds, clearly running out of juice. He doesn’t have any, of course, and he’s never going to find some.

Sure, he could physically light a fire. Anybody living after the end of the world should have some kind of survival skills. Maybe if a nuclear bomb was the culprit— or even a super scary zombie outbreak. Had oblivion been more interesting and dire, maybe he would care enough to light a fire with his bare hands. But he won’t, because he knows Younghoon cares about one thing and one thing only— that he’s dedicated this very day to their love.

Nobody told Chanhee that the apocalypse would be so incredibly mundane at times.

It’s second nature to him, the famine occurred when he was maybe 5. All those ridiculous forms of media he consumed— the comics about deadly outbreaks or war raging between the nations, none of that was realistic. All it took was for one year of deleterious weather and climate change to disrupt supply chains all over and starve the damn planet. Of course humans should have known their own negligence would take them out before anything else.

But living amongst a famished population is all he’s ever known. Growing up in previously suburban neighborhoods, mugwort and pines slowly biting back at capitalism, reestablishing their rightful place in the earth. An overgrown world, one that reminded him that the only threat were the very humans that survived the initial blow.

He clicks the lighter one more time in hopes of watching the expired candle burst into a small flame. It kind of works, the candle briefly licking up with a pathetic orange before immediately dying back down. He tries it one last time before tossing the useless tool behind him, willing himself to just deal with it later.

Of course, growing up as a traveling orphan made it very difficult to learn domestic tasks. But the no-bake cake complete with the pitiful candle in front of him doesn’t look half bad. He winged it, of course, but he knows it’s sweet and edible. Besides, most of the stuff he found in their current pantry won’t go bad for another twenty years or so. The end of the world is still young, as Younghoon says.

Chanhee sighs and figures he’ll just leave the candle for decoration. Younghoon will still gently smile at him, clasping soft fingers together and jubilantly kissing Chanhee’s red cheeks with a loud smack. He does it every year, but somehow it gets impossibly sweeter. Love grows in dull places, and Chanhee is just glad their place has the privilege of being dull.

The cake is lopsided now, the makeshift frosting inching closer to the dated plate. It would be wonderful if anything could go right today, considering the previous run-ins.

Chanhee’s azaleas are dying. Which is crazy, because everything else seems to grow where his hands haven’t touched. They’re running out of eggs again, which means he’ll have to trek down to the hub two hours out from their little cottage. And he can’t seem to find his favorite shirt, the one that Younghoon said he looked so pretty in. And now the goddamn candle won’t light.

Valentine's Day in the apocalypse isn’t so strange when he thinks about it.

In an alternative universe where the world didn’t collapse, he’d probably still be having these same inconveniences. He’d still probably be loving the same man, too, except maybe he’d encounter him in a much less unfortunate way.

And maybe, the fucking candle would light, too.

🌎

Three years ago

Choi Chanhee didn’t think he was afraid of many things anymore.

After the events of his early twenties, nothing could possibly scar him more than what the earth took from him. That’s why he set the traps up in the first place, littered around his small cottage, designed to subdue any soul that crossed onto his property. He wasn’t actually expecting to catch anyone or anything for that matter.

His feet were frozen in place, heartbeat ramming against his chest. He hadn’t felt a chill since…since the incident seven years prior. He’d almost forgotten what real fear felt like in his bones.

There was a boy in the trap outside of his garden.

He’d fallen for his dug-out trap, a deep, gaping hole covered with thin plywood and a bunch of rotting leaves. It had worked like a charm, causing the stranger to fall right through the hole that Chanhee spent almost an entire month digging out. There was no way to get out unless someone physically helped him out. It did its job, so why did he suddenly feel so ill?

He inched closer to the hole, tightly clutching a rusted cleaver. He didn’t want to use it.

He could hear heavy breathing from below his feet, ragged breaths that indicated whoever it was certainly was panicking. But the boy was quiet besides this fact, quiet enough that Chanhee figured he was nothing but trouble. He’d have to suck it up and get rid of this individual once and for all to keep himself safe. It was the only way to live comfortably.

Chanhee took a shaky breath and delicately peered down into the hole, careful to not slip down himself. He squinted, just barely making out the figure leagues below him. And suddenly, the stranger moved, head lurching up to meet Chanhee’s eyes. In an instance, Chanhee gasped and bolted away.

“Hello?” The stranger’s voice called, unexpectedly gentle. “Will you come back for a second? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Bullshit. He was wandering around Chanhee’s property! No way he wasn’t a threat.

Chanhee kept his mouth shut, scooting precariously back to the edge of the hole without peeking inside again. He waited, anticipating any more words from the boy. Sure enough, the soft-spoken stranger spoke once more.

“I don’t mean to hurt you,” he said slowly, testing the waters. “I can tell from this trap that someone has done so before.”

A lump grew in Chanhee’s chest, stopping any words that might have left his lips. How dare this stranger say something like that?! Just because he covered his entire parameter with traps didn’t mean it was out of paranoia or fear of the past repeating itself!

Or so he told himself.

“I’m serious. I don’t have any weapons on me. I’m visiting from the Northern Hub.” He continued, defending his honor. “I was plucking persimmons. I didn’t believe anybody lived so far out here.” He paused, waiting for any kind of answer. “I belong to a brigade.”

Chanhee almost scoffed out loud.

A brigade? Nothing but violence and trouble. Sticking with others gets you killed.

“I can offer you supplies.”

Ridiculous. The stranger had been caught and still remained hopeful that Chanhee would let him go. He didn’t need supplies. In his little cottage, he was entirely self-sufficient.

“Friend, will you come speak to me?”

At the mention of friend, Chanhee growled and roughly peered down into the hole again. That time, he could clearly make out the stranger’s features. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t someone so young.

The man was somewhere around his own age, with dark brown hair falling over his eyes. He appeared tall, with furrowed brows on a delicate face. A pronounced philtrum, sitting pretty above sculpted lips. Despite the state of their world, the stranger looked strangely harmless.

And even worse, the stranger offered a blinding smile.

Much to Chanhee’s great dismay, he was beautiful.

“Hi there,” he spoke, offering a small bow. Chanhee scoffed under his breath. “Again, I didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry. Will you consider helping me out of here?”

“How do I know you won’t kill me?” Chanhee finally spoke, making it clear he held the cleaver to his chest. The stranger briefly glanced down at it with little to no fear.

“Ah, so you speak.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

The stranger put his hands up in defense. “I was worried you wouldn’t say a word. I’m sorry.”

Chanhee wrinkled his nose. “Stop apologizing. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m only trying to be polite.”

“You’re in a trap!”

“And I’m trying to get out!” The stranger cracked another small smile.

Chanhee was at a loss of what to do. It appeared the stranger had no intention to steal or hurt him, yet Chanhee couldn’t quite trust the harmless demeanor. Being kind in the apocalypse is being stupid, and Chanhee wouldn’t make that mistake a second time.

“How do I know you won’t hurt me if I get you out?”

“Because I was telling the truth. Look,” he said, pulling his pockets inside out. “I’m defenseless.”

He was telling the truth. No weapons spotted on his body.

“How do I know you’re not hiding them somewhere else?” Chanhee narrowed his eyes.

The stranger sighed and shrugged. “I guess I can’t blame you for not believing me. You’ll just have to trust my word.”

“Absolutely not.”

The stranger nodded his head past Chanhee’s direction. “If you look at the last tree on the left, my basket of persimmons is still there. I put them down before I wandered over here. Curiosity seems to be my enemy.”

Holding the cleaver in front of him, Chanhee whipped his head around. Sure enough, there was a basket of persimmons sitting idly below the tree. The stranger was once again being truthful.

“Those are my trees, you know.”

“I’m sorry. Can I have some persimmons?”

“Well, now you can’t.”

“If you get me out, I’ll give them back to you and leave.”

Chanhee glared. “I’m not letting you out.”

The stranger pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “My friends will come looking for me.” It was unfair that he looked that innocuous and cute. If Chanhee was a weaker man, he’d have already fallen for the charm.

“Is that a threat?”

“No, but they’ll get me out.”

“What if they fall into my traps, too?”

The stranger laughed, causing Chanhee’s eye to twitch. “The more the merrier.”

“You don’t seem to be too worried.”

“You don’t look like someone who is going to hurt me.”

“That’s a bold thing to say when you’re at the bottom of my trap.”

The stranger shrugged again. Unbothered, he took a seat in the dirt. “I guess I’ll just have to convince you to let me out. I can be patient.”

“You’ll starve down there,” Chanhee threatened, though he was aware he didn’t sound too scary.

“Throw me a persimmon?” The stranger perked an eyebrow and grinned.

Unbelievable. He had a death wish.

Without saying a word, Chanhee slumped down near the hole with a frustrated grumble. He could either throw the stranger a rope and help him out or truly leave him there to starve. Knowing the deepest parts of himself, he’d never let the latter happen. So he sat there and pondered instead.

“Does the cleaver-wielding man have a name?” The stranger called out after a few minutes of silence. “Or should I just refer to you as Mr. Cleaver? Or Persimmon Man?”

“I’m not telling you my name.”

“Ah. I should have figured.” There was a beat of silence. “You can call me Younghoon.”

Chanhee wasn’t going to be calling him anything. But it was nice to put a name to the face.

“I suppose you’re not going to tell me why you’re isolated out here all alone? Or why you have so many traps around the property?”

“Stop asking so many questions. I’m not telling you anything.”

“That’s fair.”

Chanhee was almost irritated that Younghoon didn’t put up a fight.

“I can only assume you’re quite scared right now.”

Offended, Chanhee peeked his head over the ledge with a deadly glare. “I’m not afraid of you!”

Younghoon smiled, his eyes crinkling and his teeth showing. He could be deadly and Chanhee wouldn’t know it.

“I’m sure it’s not me in particular you’re afraid of. But clearly, there must be something you must fear.” He looked up, eyes darting across the sky. “How many of these cursed holes have you dug?”

Chanhee glowered. “I told you to stop asking questions!”

Younghoon wrapped his arms around his knees. “Okay. I’ll tell you about myself, then.”

“No, don’t do that either!”

Younghoon didn’t listen, smiling away like Chanhee wasn’t in control of the situation.

“I was raised in a commune of sorts…”

Oh, so a cult, Chanhee thought.

“A farming commune.”

Oh.

“My friend, Sunwoo and I, realized we’d never come out this far before. He sent me to check it out.”

Sunwoo? Sounded like a killer.

“We’re about an hour away by foot. I didn’t mean to veer so far off. This area…we believed was historically abandoned. I don’t even handle the defense part of the brigade. I grow the crops.”

Chanhee peered into the hole and squinted his eyes at the unassuming man. He definitely didn’t look like someone who could correctly wield a weapon. But still, it was never worth it to trust someone right off the bat.

“How many people are in your brigade?” Chanhee questioned, narrowing his eyes. Younghoon beamed, happy that he was being asked.

“There’s 11 of us. We all have our own roles and responsibilities.”

Eleven. It was a sizable number.

“We provide supplies for the Northern Hub. Crops, weapons, clothing. We aren’t violent.”

“And yet you rob people of their fruits.”

Younghoon frowned, a look that Chanhee didn’t like on him.

“I didn’t mean to rob you.”

Chanhee wrinkled his nose. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t!” Younghoon threw his hands up in frustration. “Had I known a mean, beautiful man would be guarding said persimmons with such awful traps I wouldn’t have come near here in the first place!”

Silence. Chanhee froze.

Beautiful?!

“I mean…” Younghoon started, awkwardly coughing. “That’s not true, actually. I still probably would have come.”

Chanhee shook away the blush on his cheeks. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“But I mean it!” Younghoon said in desperation. “I didn’t mean to scare you, beautiful man. I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to steal your fruits! Will you please let me out? I won’t touch you, I promise.”

Chanhee huffed. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Please— I don’t want my friends to have to intervene.”

“You said that wasn’t a threat.”

“If they see me down here and you up there, they’ll see it as a threat,” he panted.

Chanhee genuinely considered it for a moment, helping Younghoon out so soon. He shook his head, ultimately deciding against it.

“Then I’ll wait for their arrival. In the meantime, you’re staying right there until I figure out what to do with you.”

Younghoon pouted, an action Chanhee did not appreciate— given the way his cheeks flushed red and his eyes watered with such sincerity. Still, he didn’t appear to understand the brevity of the situation.

Chanhee was dead serious about waiting it out. It’s nothing he hadn’t done before, loitering outside his own property. Losing his will to live had turned him into a madman. An angry, paranoid madman.

He’d always told himself he’d be able to swing first, to finally fight back, to make up for what he didn’t have the chance to do before. Maybe then, would the guilt finally subside.

Over the course of three hours, Younghoon sure did have a lot to say. None of it particularly interesting, either. Which was in theory a good thing— Chanhee almost wished he would just threaten him instead of talking his ear off.

Younghoon knew how to grow everything, apparently. Fruits, vegetables, flowers, grass. He could sew fabric and cook food. He could fight if he needed to (even if he didn’t want to, he specifically stated) and he could run really really fast. His best friend’s name was Changmin, and he’d been with his brigade since he was a teenager. The sons of all the neighbors with the misfortune of giving birth a few years before the world ended. They were bonded by trauma and history. To some extent, Chanhee could relate.

Not that it mattered, but Younghoon had a pretty singing voice. When Chanhee failed to answer a question (which was every time), he would fill the silence with a bridge sung by popstars long gone. Despite being in the dirt, he found comfort laying there with a small smile on his face, every so often throwing a thumbs up to an irritated Chanhee.

It really was no use. Choi Chanhee was in possession of an annoying, harmless man. But he couldn’t give it up. Younghoon could still be playing a long game.

When nightfall came around, a chill followed. Acutely aware of the freezing temperatures, Chanhee disappeared for a few minutes with an old blanket, tossing it down into the hole with a grumble. A gasp erupted from the earth.

“See, I knew you didn’t want me to die!” Younghoon called out, graciously accepting the blanket. Chanhee didn’t say anything, rolling his eyes. He too, would wrap himself in a blanket to remain by his hole. Despite the darkness, nothing dangerous ever really came around his way. Younghoon was a new development in a life of isolation.

The prisoner had fallen asleep by the time loud footsteps shook Chanhee’s exhausted brain awake.

He’d trained himself to wake up at any inconvenience, muscles jumping to life as he wrapped frozen fingers around the trusty cleaver. There were certainly a group of people, feet pounding against the dirt just a stone’s throw away from him. This was it— the fight he’d prepared himself to win for so many years. He was going to have to defend his honor.

“Hoonie?!” A panicked voice suddenly called out, a rustle of leaves following right after. “Jesus christ— where are you?!”

“His basket is here! He’s gotta be close!” Another voice called out in desperation.

A knot of fear curled within Chanhee’s stomach, an indication that he would have to confront his worst nightmare a second time. The cleaver shook with his body, held tightly against his chest. Younghoon appeared to be waking up below him, confusion overtaking his senses.

“I see something!” A third voice called, a faint figure in direct line of Chanhee’s freezing body. He wiped the sweat off the weapon’s handle and repositioned it in his hands.

“Is that…” Younghoon started, rubbing his eyes as he lifted himself from the ground. Chanhee could only see the outline of his movements, slow and dazed. He stood up with faux confidence, swallowing hard.

“There’s someone there!”

Chanhee’s breath hitched as a small light got closer and closer to his shivering frame. It was a brigade alright, at least 9 different men were huddled together in search of their beloved Younghoon. What would they do when they discovered his poor body at the center of the earth?

“You! Don’t move!” A man with a larger build said, pointing a small pistol in Chanhee’s wake. Not anticipating a gun, Chanhee immediately put his hands up in defense. He couldn’t fight against weapons like that.

“Sangyeon hyung?” Younghoon yelled from below. “Is that you?!”

Panicked, Chanhee hurriedly shushed him. But it was no use, his cover was blown.

“I’m in here!” Younghoon’s voice was far too cheery for 3 am. “I’m in the hole!”

Without giving a moment to assess his potential escape, someone tackled Chanhee into the cold hard ground. His cleaver went flying out of his hands, useless metal that Chanhee probably couldn’t have brought himself to use anyway. His face was pressed into the earth, hands held securely behind his back in a terribly uncomfortable way. He whimpered in pain, his body not used to the freezing ground.

“You better not move an inch or I’ll shoot you,” the voice threatened. A dark, brooding demeanor emanated off him. Chanhee was scared senseless.

“What the— Younghoon?” The first voice had said, clearly peering over into the hole. “What the hell happened to you?!”

There was a small bout of laughter from Chanhee’s victim. “You’ll never believe it. I’ve been arguing with the prettiest boy for hours. I told him my friends would come looking for me!”

Chanhee grumbled in frustration. “Stop flattering me!”

He was held tighter into the ground, the voice above him threatening him once more.

“Be quiet,” the stranger hissed.

“Wait! Sangyeon hyung! Don’t hurt him!” Younghoon called.

What?

The pressure behind his back loosened as Sangyeon slowly released his tight grip. “Younghoon, what are you talking about? Did he or did he not put you down there?”

“Well—I….he did, but he didn’t hurt me. It was my fault for trespassing and falling into the trap,” Younghoon honestly confessed. “I mean, he wouldn’t let me out but it's clear he’s more afraid of me than I am of him. He even gave me a blanket!”

Chanhee scoffed, offended.

“Besides, you should see him in the daytime he’s so incredibly pretty and he—”

“Enough!” Chanhee called, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “What is wrong with you?! Just take the persimmons and leave!”

Sangyeon roughly flipped Chanhee around and shone a flashlight directly into his eyes, searing them. Two more men appeared above him, cocking their heads in his presence.

“Huh. You’re right, he is pretty.”

“Sunwoo, don’t be weird.”

“But Younghoon is right, he doesn’t look particularly dangerous. Sangyeon? Just let him go,” the third man said. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. I mean, look how fast you disarmed him.”

Chanhee growled. “Will you people just leave me alone?”

Sangyeon titled his head. “Now why are you trapping humans out here all alone if you don’t mean to kill them?”

“Yeah, what’s your damage man?” Said the third man. He had a curious smile on his face, a tell-tale sign that he too, did not take Chanhee seriously.

“I’m sure he’s just crazy, Kevin,” the Sunwoo man said. “All kinds of freaks out here.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” Chanhee said to himself, dusting off the dirt on his clothes. Sangyeon had indeed let him go.

From behind, he could hear the rest of the brigade helping Younghoon out from his demise. Whatever. It’s not like he was going to do anything to him, anyway.

“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt him,” Sangyeon warned, his eyes darkening. Despite the presence of the others, this man did seem like business. Chanhee didn’t doubt that Sangyeon would have slaughtered him in a heartbeat had he done anything to their Younghoon.

Sighing, Chanhee looked off into the distance. “I wouldn’t have done that.” He was being honest. He would have never killed Younghoon— even if the friendly man wasn’t so friendly.

Kevin narrowed his eyes. “Then why the traps?”

“Protection.”

Kevin pursed his lips. “You sir, give me the vibe of a man who has gone through some shit.”

Chanhee couldn’t bring himself to refute the statement. Kevin was entirely right.

“Finally! I’m free!” Younghoon called out from behind, causing Chanhee to whip around in fear. The last thing he wanted to do was face the man he’d just imprisoned the entire evening. But despite that fact, Younghoon was just as smiley as he was in the hole, grinning from ear to ear.

To Chanhee’s great dismay, he was much cuter up close. He had a softness in his eyes that was hard to look away from, capturing Chanhee’s immediate attention. He cocked his head and stepped closer, causing Chanhee to fall back.

“Ah, the man who wouldn’t let me out. Are you finally going to tell me your name? I promise it will be worth it.”

Chanhee glanced back at Sangyeon who was still glaring at him. Defeated, he took a deep sigh.

“Choi Chanhee.”

🌎

Younghoon was really annoying.

Like, really annoying.

So annoying that Chanhee often found him at every corner, ready to bother him.

In the end, Younghoon’s brigade was pretty defenseless. Chanhee had been in one years before and knew the ropes. Everyone had their own responsibility, their own little puzzle piece to the working whole. And once they had all introduced themselves, they didn’t stop harassing him.

It had been years since Chanhee had real company.

Younghoon’s brigade— or just “the boys,” as Chanhee had begun to refer to them as, had dragged him back to their base of operations after freeing Younghoon. He was only an hour away by foot, too close for comfort. And instead of violently questioning him or beating him purple for taking their beloved boy, they fed him hot tea and a warm meal, opting to gently pry open his depressing history.

It kind of worked.

Sangyeon had managed to get a single confession out of Chanhee— that something evil had once come his way, rendering him alone for good. He didn’t like people and he didn’t want people. He’d finally begun to live with some sort of peace.

Sangyeon determined that proper reparations would occur only if Chanhee allowed them to bother him relentlessly (or in their words, establish trading between them considering his hearty acres of farmland). The Kevin guy and his best friend (Jacob) were strangely worried for Chanhee’s wellbeing, their brows constantly furrowed in his presence. Jacob was the Northern Hub’s acclaimed therapist, apparently. The way he spoke to Chanhee at first was almost unnervingly thoughtful. After a few weeks, Chanhee realized he just wasn’t used to genuine kindness.

They were all nice in retrospect. Some more weary than others, but still nice. Chanhee didn’t always have to keep his guard up around them.

Younghoon, though, was the real kicker.

Perhaps Chanhee laced the persimmons with something addicting, as Younghoon couldn’t seem to leave him be. While the other boys visited every few days, Chanhee would find Younghoon standing outside of his yard with a massive smile on his face, waving like he wasn’t a threat weeks prior.

“I have some goods for you!” He’d call, holding up a bag of homemade stew. Sometimes it was fruits that only he could grow in his garden, and sometimes it was a “new” recipe that Haknyeon had cooked up. It didn’t matter as long as he had some sort of excuse.

“What kind of stockholm syndrome bullshit is this?” Chanhee would mutter under his breath, begrudgingly taking the bag and allowing Younghoon to enter his household.

His precious domain, entered for the very first time after seven years by a man with such audacity.

“What? I wanted to see my pretty Chanhee!”

“Stop calling me that!”

“I’m not the only one who calls you that! Jacob says you’re pretty too!”

“That doesn’t make anything better! We shouldn’t even be friends!”

Younghoon was a little too good at pouting for a man his age. Younghoon must have known that Chanhee had a massive soft spot in his heart as he didn’t let up once. No matter what, Younghoon continued to bother him, unafraid of the repercussions.

“Your house is so organized. I wish ours was. The boys are so messy sometimes.”

“Is that why you spend so much time irritating me?”

Younghoon grinned, a big goofy grin. “It’s not the only reason.”

At some point, Chanhee had slammed his hands against the table, frightening a giddy Younghoon. He stared at him for a good minute, trailing his eyes over every maddeningly attractive detail of Younghoon’s features.

“Why do you keep following me? Why do you care?!”

Not expecting the question, Younghoon had thought about it for a moment.

“You’re lying to us. You don’t like being alone.”

The normally smiley Younghoon would sometimes turn scary serious— and suddenly Chanhee would have to come face to face with what he’d been trying to bury. He didn’t like this about Younghoon. Nobody else pried like he did, not even therapist Jacob. Younghoon poked and prodded and Chanhee couldn’t figure out why.

“You’re wrong. It’s the only way I can function.”

“When you’re ready, you can tell me. I’ll be here.”

Chanhee did not foresee Younghoon being there for much longer.

Not if he could help it.

🌎

He couldn't, in fact, help it.

Younghoon was just so persistent and friendly. He knew when Chanhee needed something, when he required help, when he just wanted a living breathing human next to him during his grueling farming tasks.

Chanhee had befriended the rest of the boys— Juyeon, Jaehyun, and Eric. He’d had conversations with all of them at least once or twice, learning their lore while remaining mysterious himself. Though Sangyeon’s business deal had been voiced as a threat, none of the boys really held that sentiment. They didn’t fight and had no desire to join the militia.

Chanhee would never admit it, but speaking to Jacob really did help sometimes.

His kind, soft voice would put him at ease when his heart rate would sky-rocket. Alongside Younghoon, Jacob was the only other perceptive individual to his secret past. Though it took the others a few months to warm up to him, Jacob and Younghoon trusted him instantaneously.

“Not to be dramatic, but your face paints a story of deep sadness,” Jacob had told him one day while they trimmed the cherry blossom branches side by side. “I always know when you want to say something to me.”

Sighing, Chanhee shook his head. “You sound like Younghoon sometimes.”

“Younghoon and I aren’t so different. It’s easy to open up to him.”

“I don’t like that,” Chanhee grumbled, half expecting Jacob not to hear him.

“Then how does it make you feel, Chanhee?” Jacob said, turning to face him with a serious expression on his face. “From trapping him in your hole, to befriending him. What are your honest, true feelings about him?”

Quietly, under his breath, Chanhee whined. “Stop psychoanalyzing me.”

Jacob ignored him. “Because you’ve made no effort to push him away. Or any of us, for that matter. You didn’t even hurt him when you could’ve. And throwing him a blanket instead of letting him freeze? Come on man.”

I don’t want to think about the way he makes me feel. And the way he reminds me of how I used to feel, Chanhee thought to himself. No way he would tell Jacob this.

“He’s annoying.”

“And?”

“Persistent.”

“Yes. Go on.”

“He’s too thoughtful. Far too trusting. He should have ran away from me and never looked back. He shouldn’t have brought me to you guys.”

“And why is that?” Jacob asked, fully in therapist mode.

“Because he has better things to worry about than me. I don’t need all this attention. It’s a bad idea.”

“Why do you feel as if you are so undeserving of that attention? That kindness?” Jacob placed a gentle hand on Chanhee’s shoulder, the touch burning him from the inside out. Affection, so foreign to his severed heart.

“I don’t deserve to feel…”

“Yes?”

“Safe. So safe.”

He’d admitted the quiet part out loud. The way the brigade and Younghoon made him feel. Sadness? Longing? Sure. Anything that triggered nostalgia would bring forth such a thing. But overall, Chanhee felt safe. No reason to look over his shoulder so often anymore, no reason to tidy up his ridiculous traps.

A warm smile spread across Jacob’s face. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Chanhee tsked, going back to pruning his flowers. “I hate you.”

“Mm. I don’t think that’s true.” Jacob giggled, plucking a single cherry blossom and sneaking it behind Chanhee’s ear. “There. You should look as soft as you are.”

With red cheeks, Chanhee didn’t speak to Jacob again for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t the only time he had heart to hearts with these people. He couldn’t figure out why they wanted to talk to him anyway— or why he was even worth it. Why fraternize with him past the trade deals? He kidnapped one of their people for christ’s sake.

Sangyeon was the least trusting of him. Which was natural, of course.

The first real conversation they had was an odd one, to say the least. More of an interrogation that mirrored their initial meeting rather than a conversation between two friends. He was a strict, protective man with the genuine desire to keep his men safe. Even if he was kind to those around him, he was not to be messed with. Chanhee always worried that one day, Sangyeon would turn on him.

Delivering goods always put him on edge, meaning he’d have to face Sangyeon once more. His tough, no-nonsense demeanor at the back room of the Northeast commune. It was always cold there.

“You’re missing a basket of persimmons this time around,” Sangyeon said once, eyeing Chanhee like a piece of meat. “What’s the reason for that?”

There was no reason. Chanhee simply forgot. But Sangyeon would catch any mistake he made.

“I…forgot.”

“You know, Younghoon loves them.”

Chanhee winced, fists curling into balls. The last thing he wanted to do was to upset Younghoon. He hated that annoying pout on his lips— the way tears would flow down his cheeks within seconds. He was a horrendously pretty crier and Chanhee didn’t like it one bit.

“I can go back and get it. I’m sorry.”

Sangyeon waved him off. “No, you’re already this far out. Just bring it next time.”

“Sorry again,” Chanhee said timidly, turning on his heels.

“Oh and Chanhee?” Sangyeon called, prompting the boy to turn back around.

“Yes?” His heart was violently beating, fearing the next thing Sangyeon said.

“You’re welcome to the commune if you need anything.”

Strangely friendly and absolutely not what he was expecting Sangyeon to say. Chanhee slowly nodded, weary of the kind offer. Maybe Sangyeon was not as scary as he appeared. He however, didn’t want to test his luck.

Eric was another person that Chanhee felt at ease with.

He was a happy-go-lucky dude that lived as if the world wasn’t ending. Outside of his responsibility of construction, he had hobbies— real hobbies. He said he’d be an olympic surfer had the world not ended. He was strong and built, playing rugby or football with the rest of the commune during his free time. He didn’t speak to Chanhee much the first couple weeks of their rocky tradeship but later on began to seek out his presence.

“Do you have any interest in sports?” Eric had asked one day.

“Sports?”

Maybe, when he was 18. When his brigade taught him how to wrestle.

“Ah, not really.”

Eric laughed. “Well, if you ever want to join us feel free to.”

Chanhee politely shook his head. “I think I’ll pass, but I appreciate the offer.”

Eric was silent for a moment, doing what so many others kept doing to Chanhee— analyzing, studying, scrutinizing him from the inside out. But he smiled instead of scowled, patting Chanhee’s back.

“I can see now why Younghoon won’t leave you alone.”

“Huh?” Chanhee asked, caught off guard. The muscular man laughed again, getting up to leave.

“Don’t break his little crybaby heart.”

Chanhee didn’t really know what Eric was talking about, or why he would say that— so he ignored it.

It was lost on him, why nobody seemed to have their guard up.

He would just endure the confusion.

🌎

Younghoon needed to stop falling asleep on Chanhee’s couch.

Chanhee didn’t like the peaceful sight of the beautiful boy, snoring away on his pillows and blankets. He even pruned all of Chanhee’s bushes before knocking out, neatly setting the pliers down and wiping them clean. He also prepared dinner— a pot of warm sundubu jjigae waiting on the table, cooked fresh on their outside fireplace.

Chanhee must have dozed off outside sitting on the bench. He only remembered fuzzy details of their conversation.

“Your new commune shop tomorrow,” Younghoon had broken the silence as he tended to Chanhee’s garden.

“What about it?”

“What are you selling?”

Chanhee groaned. “You never stop asking questions.”

“I won’t stop until you start answering them.”

Sighing, Chanhee laid down on the bench, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I’ll start with flowers.”

“Oh, pretty. What else?”

“Pears and persimmons. And maybe some gardening tools.”

“Very you.”

Chanhee grumbled. “You don’t know what is me.”

“That’s certainly not true.”

“Will you ever leave me alone?” Chanhee asked, though there was no bite to his words. Secretly, he didn’t hate Younghoon’s warmth.

“I don’t think you want to be left alone, my Chanhee.”

Ignoring that statement, Chanhee rolled over and closed his eyes, swallowing whatever feelings were bubbling up.

That’s all he remembered before knocking out.

Kneeling by the couch, Chanhee took an extra blanket from his closet and threw it onto Younghoon’s frame, even fluffing the pillow underneath his head. For a second, he allowed himself to drink in the luxury of having the boy so close to him.

Soft breaths, a faint smile on his lips. The amount of trust he had in Chanhee was making him dizzy.

He deeply sighed and brushed a piece of Younghoon’s hair away from his forehead. “Why are you so nice to me?”

No answer. It was getting dark. If he was lucky, Chanhee would wake up with Younghoon already gone— even if he didn’t really want that.

But of course, Younghoon wasn’t gone in the morning, which made Chanhee happier than he would ever admit.

“Why are you still here?” Chanhee asked with a frown, yet still prepared him a cup of hot oolong.

“I wasn’t going to let you set your shop up alone. Don’t you need an extra pair of arms?”

“Not really.”

“I’m coming anyway.”

Chanhee laughed in disbelief. “I know that.”

Younghoon’s eyes flickered between Chanhee’s lips and forehead in awe.

“What?”

“Your laugh is so pretty.”

“Ugh. Enough.” Chanhee hurriedly left the room to get changed.

“What part of you isn’t pretty?” Younghoon called, his boisterous laughter reverberating throughout the cottage.

The journey to the commune was simple enough after walking it for so many months. An hour by foot lugging around a ton of cargo was in fact much easier with an extra pair of arms. Younghoon was strong too, something Chanhee was trying very hard to ignore.

Younghoon talked during most of it, knowing at that point Chanhee didn’t like to fill the silence. But he would listen and pretend like he wasn’t retaining every morsel of information that fell from Younghoon’s lips. Just in case.

The shop wasn’t hard to set up, which he was thankful for. Sangyeon rented him out a small booth at the center of the Northern Hub, near a fresh kimchi shop. He was sandwiched between that and a beverage stall— both owned by older ahjummas, ones that had lived through wars and apocalypses alike.

They liked his presence because he was quiet and made the corner smell like fresh hibiscus. He wasn’t rowdy like the other men and he too, carried the aroma of newly budded cherry blossoms.

He didn’t plan on Younghoon being his fellow employee, but it’s not like he would ever leave him alone. Besides, having Younghoon there really did make matters easier for him. He was cordial and polite to everyone, an easy sweet-talker. Chanhee didn’t like talking all that much in general.

At some point during the day, Jacob came by to drop off soup for the cold afternoon. Two steaming containers of miso he’d made on his lunch break. He’d suspiciously eyed the two together and smirked, an action that Chanhee would have to ignore.

“You two seem close,” Jacob said under his breath.

“We spent the night together,” Younghoon said nonchalantly.

Chanhee’s eyes widened in horror as he slapped Younghoon on the shoulder.

“Don’t say it like that!”

“Oh! Did you now?” Jacob mischievously grinned. “I was waiting for when it would finally happen.”

“No, that’s not—” Chanhee didn't finish his sentence because Jacob was already leaving.

“You two have fun working. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.” And he was gone, giggling like a kid.

Chanhee glared, crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to make eye contact with a giddy Younghoon.

“He knew what I meant.” Younghoon laughed.

“I hate you.”

This only made Younghoon laugh harder.

The day was surprisingly easy. Sangyeon came by once to check on the sales and Chanhee’s overall feelings of being a new vendor. He was getting easier and easier to speak to, clearly happy with the update. He babied Younghoon in a way that Chanhee had never seen before, squishing his cheeks and calling him cute. A part of Chanhee was briefly jealous that he couldn’t seem to act the same way, but he shook away the feeling.

When night fell, they only had a few boxes left to clean up. Older women bought up the bundles of colorful flowers Chanhee had put together. They wouldn’t have a hard journey back to the cottage. Realistically, Chanhee wanted to go back home alone so Younghoon didn’t have to constantly help him. But he knew that wasn’t an option.

“Chanhee-ah?”

Chanhee didn’t hear the voice at first, too busy with packing up. Until they spoke again. This time, with fervor.

“Choi Chanhee?!”

Chanhee’s heart plummeted to his stomach. He knew that voice. Carefully, he looked up to meet the stranger’s eyes.

“Youngbin…hyung?”

Standing in front of his stall with wide glossy eyes was Kim Youngbin, the leader of his old brigade. He held a bag of goods in his hand, now threatening to tumble from his grip. He looked older now— a bit taller and with more features written into his face. But he was the same Youngbin that Chanhee knew as a young teenager.

Younghoon’s eyes flipped between the two, confused.

“Chanhee? You know Youngbin hyung?”

Chanhee turned to face him. “You know him?!”

“He’s from the Southern Hub. He comes by to get medicinal supplies for his brigade.”

His brigade.

Oh.

So he started anew.

“But what—” Younghoon started, cocking his head, “why do you two know each other?”

Silence.

Youngbin started at Chanhee, silently asking if he could reveal what was hidden between them. Chanhee looked down and softly nodded.

“He belonged to my brigade once,” Youngbin answered honestly, sadness dripping from his tone. “Things didn’t end well.”

“I didn’t know you were still in the area,” Chanhee mumbled.

“I couldn’t have gone very far. Not after…”

Younghoon rapidly looked between the both of them. “After…?”

“It’s in the past now,” Chanhee said, choking back his emotions. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Youngbin said, finally dropping his bag of goods to come around the stall and pull the younger into a crushing hug. “I hated that you left.”

“I was better off alone. You were better off without me there.”

Youngbin held him tighter, his voice breaking. “You know that’s not true. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was. You know it was,” Chanhee responded, his arms slowly working to hug Youngbin. “I was a liability.”

Youngbin pulled back, putting firm hands on Chanhee’s shoulders. “You were young and kind. Nobody could have known.”

“Youngkyun-ah, he warned me, he—”

“Chanhee. You didn't do anything wrong,” Youngbin assured him again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay. It’s over.”

Quietly sniffing, Youngbin stepped away from the stall and gave Younghoon a look.

“It was nice to see you, Younghoon-ah. Come by for dinner again someday, okay? And take Chanhee if he’s ever feeling up for it.”

“Will do,” Younghoon said, though still confused.

“I love you, Chanhee. In case you haven’t heard it in seven years.”

He left with a quick bow, following the flow of exiting customers.

Chanhee quietly cried with squeezed eyes, fists clenched at his sides. He could feel Younghoon hovering next to him, hesitating to offer comfort. It was nice that he was even there in the first place.

“I’m sorry about that,” Chanhee finally said, haphazardly wiping his tears. “I’ll bring this back myself. You don’t have to come with me and tomorrow I can just—”

“Chanhee,” Younghoon said carefully, grabbing his wrist.

Refusing to make eye contact, Chanhee stared at a bouquet of azaleas.

“I know I said you could tell me when you felt ready, but I think you would feel a whole lot lighter if you told me now.”

A tear fell down Chanhee’s cheek, caught by Younghoon’s soft finger.

“You’re hurting, and you won’t let me in because of it.”

“I wouldn’t put you in danger like that,” Chanhee quietly said, making no effort to fight back.

“What danger, Chanhee? I am safe. I have protection. What is it you are so afraid of? What made you go insane like this?”

“I…he…” Chanhee started, the words tapering off and dying on his tongue. The azaleas were suddenly too bright in his vision, too reminiscent of a warmer palette.

“Let’s talk about this somewhere else,” Younghoon said, allowing Chanhee to catch his breath. In record speed, he packed up the stall and tucked everything under his arm.

“Just stay in my room tonight.”

It sounded nice. Chanhee, for once, didn’t say no.

He was still crying by the time they made it to the boys’ commune. Younghoon had shooed Haknyeon away for the night and hurriedly sat Chanhee on his dated couch, bringing him a glass of water. The silence scared him half to death, even if Chanhee was silent most of the time. This, however, was an entirely different kind of silence.

“You can start when you want to,” Younghoon said gently, positioning himself beside him. “Take all the time you need. And if you really want, I will bring you home.”

Chanhee nodded and took a deep breath, mentally preparing to spill his guts to this stranger-turned-friend. He started from the beginning.

“I was an orphan at first, like everyone else when the famine began. Wasn’t uncommon, I’m sure you were too.”

Younghoon silently nodded.

“But I joined a brigade when I was 14. Some kids were better off alone but I hated being alone. Being with people made me feel like I had a family, like I could live a normal life. The end was still so fresh.” He looked to the side, tears beginning to cascade once more. “Youngbin was the leader. He was older than all of us and treated us so well. He was like Sangyeon, but less scary.”

Younghoon smiled. “Sangyeon hyung isn’t scary.”

Chanhee sniffed. “He is to me.”

Younghoon threaded his fingers through Chanhee's hair. “Go on.”

“There were a lot of us. At some point, there were 20 kids living together. And we stuck together, all up into adulthood. When you turned 18, you were offered a career or you were welcome to travel elsewhere,” he continued. “I stayed, of course. And…” he paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, “there was a boy I loved.”

There it was. The quiet part out loud.

“He joined the brigade when I was 16.”

“Your first love?” Younghoon asked, listening intently.

Chanhee nodded.

“Yootae,” he smiled. “Yoo Taeyang.”

He could remember him clear as day: the long black hair, tall slender frame, sharp eyebrows. Intimidating, but kind. Similarly quiet at times— the two could communicate without having to say very much. Questions through touches, answers through kisses.

“I was 20 when it happened,” he began, already feeling ill. “Someone our age approached the commune with means to trade. But he was hungry and sick. I did what anyone in your commune would do. I brought him in.”

Younghoon’s eyebrows were furrowed, anticipating the worst. Chanhee slowly shook his head.

“He was a pawn. They sent him in on purpose.”

“Who did?”

“His brigade. They had their eyes on the community we had built. The resources, the people. In creating something strong, we had unknowingly made ourselves a target.”

Younghoon’s lips parted in shock.

“My best friend— Youngkyun— warned me that taking in that man was a bad idea. But I ignored him. Because how could I? Leave someone like that so vulnerable? But in the end he was right. Dead right.” The tears were falling freely now. “Because of me, nearly half of my friends were slaughtered or deeply injured. We were young, not properly trained. We couldn’t have possibly fought everyone off. And me— I couldn’t even move. I couldn’t even fight back.”

“Christ…” Younghoon whispered, rubbing comforting circles into Chanhee’s back. “I’m so sorry.”

“If I had just listened…had I been just a little bit more cautious, maybe I would still be with them. Maybe Yootae would still be with me, too.”

Younghoon let the silence hang in the air for a few minutes, continuing to offer small forms of comfort. There was wind outside and the sounds of individuals milling about the commune. It was a bad time to go home anyway, a nasty storm brewed in the clouds.

“So you isolated yourself.”

Chanhee nodded in pain. “I left the brigade shortly after, despite Youngbin telling me not to go. Nobody blamed me, but I knew Youngkyun would never see me the same again. I couldn’t be around them as a reminder of the awful mistake I’d made— I couldn’t be a liability.”

Younghoon pulled Chanhee into a warm hug, the other sinking right into his arms.

“I went mad by myself. Built the traps, boarded up, told horrible things to my old brigade members when they seeked me out. I was better alone because I wasn’t a threat. I couldn’t bring any trouble if I was far away from it.” He coughed, gripping onto Younghoon’s comforting presence. “I buried my Yootae myself. I don’t remember how he died or who killed him. I don’t want to know. I didn’t want to get close to anyone after that. I was done.”

“You spent your youth together. I understand.”

“Everything I know, I know because of him. He was clever and quick. And he didn’t question me for one minute about letting that cursed man past our gates. Because he was kind. And I know that if he was still alive, he still wouldn’t blame me for it.”

Younghoon gently smiled, pulling back to swipe his thumb over Chanhee’s wet cheek. “Ah, my Chanhee. You’ve gone through so much.” He glanced down at the younger’s trembling lips, wiping away the tears. “Thank you for telling me. I hope you feel lighter now.”

“Y-you knew,” Chanhee cried. “It’s like you’ve always known. Jacob too. That something was wrong.”

“You mean because I kept bothering you and pretended like I didn’t know you secretly enjoyed my company?”

Chanhee choked out a laugh. “Yes, that.”

Younghoon shrugged. “You talk with your actions. Like when you trapped me— I could tell your trap had never worked before.”

“How?”

He chuckled.

“Because I was able to climb out. I just didn’t tell you I could.”

Chanhee pressed his palms to Younghoon’s chest, eyes wide. “What?!”

Younghoon threw his head back and laughed. “Before you peeked your head in, I was able to reach the top with one stride.”

“And you still stayed?!”

“I was curious. Who could possibly be digging those holes? Surely, it wasn’t a beautiful angry man who acted like he had the capability of hurting me.”

Humiliated, Chanhee buried his face into the crook of Younghoon’s neck, groaning quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“No I mean— I’m sorry, really sorry. It’s been almost an entire year and I never apologized for that.”

“You were terrified, I could tell right away. The cleaver was shaking.”

“I was,” Chanhee admitted.

“I knew the best course of action was to be patient.”

Gently, Younghoon laid back against the couch and pulled Chanhee down with him, tucking his head under his chin.

“Sangyeon hyung didn’t like you at first,” Younghoon admitted. “He was going to leave you alone until I convinced him to organize some kind of deal.”

“God—” Chanhee scoffed, “does it all trace back to you?”

“It was a business deal, sure. But in reality, I just wanted to be around you again. A puzzle I could find all the pieces to, an ancient book I could crack the language to. I’d never met anybody else like you, so comfortable with being alone in a place like this.”

“And you thought I was pretty,” Chanhee added.

“And I think you’re pretty.” A pause. “And tender. And so silently generous, even if you never say what you feel out loud. I know you enjoy our presence and I know you crave community again.”

“Ugh. You’ve been talking to Jacob.”

“He therapizes me on the weekends. My vocabulary has expanded tenfold because of his influence.”

The two giggled, cuddled up together while the wind blew on outside.

“I know you don’t believe it, but the boys adore you, too.”

“Definitely not Sangyeon.”

“Definitely Sangyeon.”

Chanhee peered up, staring into Younghoon’s loving eyes. “Not true.”

“If the rest of the men didn’t want you here, he would have sent you away a long while ago. Even if he was the last to warm up, he trusts us. And all you’ve ever been is helpful and sweet.” Younghoon poked Chanhee’s cheek. “Even if you acted all tough about it.”

Chanhee hummed and playfully swatted Younghoon’s hand away. “I wasn’t always like this. I was more talkative, open-minded.”

“But I like you now, Chanhee-ah.”

Without many tears left, the younger snuggled into Younghoon’s chest, tracing shapes into his torso. It was a weird feeling, fondness.

“And Chanhee?”

“Hm?”

“I know I am not your first love, nor will I ever be, but I want to stand beside you. And I wouldn’t expect you to love me in the same way you did Taeyang. I don’t expect you to love me back at all.”

Chanhee’s heart sped up, pounding against Younghoon’s. “Is this…is this a confession?” It took everything in him to not cry.

“It is. But you don’t have to accept it. I’m just saying the quiet part out loud.”

The quiet part out loud.

“Then I accept.”

Younghoon jolted up, frightening Chanhee half to death. His eyes were blown wide, tears brimming at the waterline. Laughing, Chanhee reached up to wipe them away.

“You’re such a crybaby sometimes.”

“Are you serious?!”

Leaning over, Chanhee pressed a soft kiss to Younghoon’s warmed cheek. “Yes, I’m serious. Otherwise I wouldn’t have let you hang around me like a dog.” He kissed the other cheek. “You don’t need to be anything but Younghoon. It’s time that I learn to love again.”

Grinning wide, Younghoon leaned in and finally connected their lips together.

It was nice. To be kissed again, to be held.

To be loved— without carrying the guilt.

🌎

Present

“Chanhee-ah?” Younghoon calls out from down the hall, the sound of bags rustling in his wake. “Chanhee baby, are you okay? Where are you?”

Groaning, Chanhee slaps his cheeks a few times.

Fuck, he fell asleep after making the stupid cake. A few laps around the house looking for that damned shirt had taken him out cold. It’s not his fault— he’d been trying to save his garden after the horrific freeze fried half his flowers. The shop would suffer from the lack of yield.

“I’m sorry I’m home so late, Youngbinnie wanted me to drop by and grab some things for us. Youngkyun says hi, by the way!” More rustling. “Chanhee-ah? Are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad at me. I know what day it is!”

Chanhee can almost hear the pout in his boyfriend’s voice.

Of course he’s not mad, he’s exhausted.

“I’m in the room,” Chanhee croaks out, voice still groggy.

“Oh! A cake?” Younghoon says with excitement in his voice.

In a panic, Chanhee shoots off the bed and crashes into the dining room where his boyfriend stands perplexed, staring at the cake that was meant to be a surprise.

“You…weren’t supposed to see that yet.”

Younghoon clasps his hands together in glee. “You made a cake?!” He runs around the counter, staring at the messy creation. “Oh and you decorated it with flowers!”

The flowers are actively wilting, Chanhee thinks. Yet Younghoon only sees the beauty in things.

“And it looks like it's chocolate! I love chocolate!” He says, scrambling to capture his boyfriend in a hug. “Did you spend all day making this while I was gone? I’m sorry, I should have come home earlier. I just wanted to pick up some more things so we could have a big dinner and then take a few days off so we could celebrate and then we could—”

Chanhee cuts him off with a kiss, gently grabbing him by the neck. Younghoon drops the rest of what he’s holding and wraps strong arms around his boyfriend’s body, deepening the kiss.

“You never shut up sometimes, you know that?” Chanhee says when they pull away, a smile playing on his lips.

Nodding with beady eyes, Younghoon agrees.

“Youngbinnie gave you some new clothes and some trinkets from Youngkyun. I have a ton of food from Haknyeon, too. We’re supposed to head over in a few days for a full feast.”

At the mention of Youngkyun and Youngbin, Chanhee grins. He’d only been able to face Youngkyun a few times in the past three years but the wounds slowly began to heal. And Youngbin was just as lovely as he was forgiving.

“And of course, I got you something.”

Chanhee kisses him again. “Don’t. Your presence is enough.”

“Too late. Happy Valentine's Day, my love,” Younghoon says, pulling something out of his pocket and placing it in Chanhee’s hands.

Wisteria seeds.

Chanhee’s mouth drops as he grabs the gift. “Oh my god, who did you trade to get these?!”

“I traded Eric for the day. I’ll get him back at some point. He owes me dinner,” he jokes, smirking with pride.

Though his flower and garden business booms with new people filling in the Northern Hub, certain things are ridiculously hard to grow— wisteria being one of them. He’d always dreamt of decorating his already colorful garden with rows of the winsome lavender. After the harsh weather over the years, finding natural vines was incredibly difficult. Somehow, Younghoon had gotten his hands on the rare seeds.

“You’re the best, bbang bbang.”

Younghoon plants kisses all over Chanhee’s face. “Only for the best.”

Chanhee grins before he sulks, looking back at his sad cake.

“It’s better than my gift. I tried lighting the single candle. It wouldn’t work.”

Younghoon tilts his head. “No, it’s cute like that. It looks like you worked hard.”

“It’s lopsided.”

“That gives it character.”

“I don’t even know if it tastes good.”

“I’ll still eat it if it doesn’t.”

Chanhee sighs, puffing out his cheeks. “You’re so easy to please. It makes me feel guilty.”

Younghoon pulls Chanhee against his chest and presses a long kiss to his cheek. “I’m easy to please because you’re my boyfriend. I don’t want anything else in life.”

“Such a sap,” Chanhee giggles, putting his hands over Younghoon’s. “And I’m starving.”

“Then let’s eat.” Younghoon releases his tight grip and goes to prepare dinner. Chanhee follows suit.

“How is Youngbin’s brigade?”

It’s been years, but Youngbin continues to build his community. Well liked and well protected. Every so often, Chanhee will timidly accompany Younghoon to the Southern Hub for a meal or two. A few of his old brigade members— Seokwoo and Jaeyoon— have made it clear that he is still welcome there. Even Youngkyun agrees, who broke down in tears the first time they saw each other again.

“Thriving. They’ll be richer than all of us by next year.”

Chanhee grins, picking through the bag of fermented goods from Haknyeon’s kitchen. “Good. I’m glad.”

“How long did you sleep for? It looks like this cake has been out for a while.”

Embarrassed, Chanhee groans.

“Well. Some of my flowers are dying, we’re out of eggs, and the candle wouldn’t light. I was tired and annoyed. So the cake isn’t my best work.”

“Aw, did I make it better?” Younghoon coos, bringing Chanhee’s hand to his lips.

“You did,” Chanhee sighs, letting Younghoon kiss up and down his wrist.

“And why don’t we just steal some chickens from Hak’s farm? It’s not like he’d miss them.”

“Younghoon!”

His boyfriend shrugs, a grin on his face. “It’s true. They pop out so many eggs.”

“Let’s just make a grocery run this weekend.”

Younghoon smiles, letting go of Chanhee’s wrist. “Alright. But I’ll still ask Hak for some chickens.”

Chanhee rolls his eyes, returning to the kitchen tasks.

“And we have to fix up some of the chairs near the gazebo. The storm took them out.”

“On it.”

“And we need more wood.”

“Right.”

“And we should also report store earnings to Sangyeon hyung by Friday.”

“Yes, dear.”

“And we—”

Younghoon leans over and kisses him.

“Let’s just enjoy Valentine's Day first, yeah?”

Defeated, Chanhee slowly nods. He gives Younghoon a final kiss before they prepare dinner side by side.

“I love you by the way.” Younghoon says as he chops fresh cucumbers, casual as ever.

“I love you more.”

The truth is, the apocalypse is kind of underwhelming and mundane.

But Chanhee likes it that way.