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They’d met when Woojae had been forcibly moved into an advanced math class at fifteen. He hadn’t wanted to study a grade higher, but his parents and teachers had agreed it would be for the best.
“The stuff you’re learning is below your level now,” explained his mother.
“I don’t care. I don’t want to do it.”
And Woojae had been a stubborn kid. Having to sit through math was bad enough without a class full of upperclassmen, and he didn’t care if he was bored while the rest of his friends worked hard at the problems he’d already solved. Being bored and surrounded by people he liked was better than having something to do while surrounded by strangers.
But his mother was stubborn as well. To have raised Wooje, she thought she had to be. “It’s demoralizing for the other kids to see you finish the work so easily. It’s demoralizing for me to see you have no ambition for something you’re clearly very good at.”
And he didn’t like it, but he knew that whatever argument he could think of, his mother would have a counter for. If she was going to give in, she’d have done it already.
So he moved into advanced math and sat in the middle of a room full of seventeen-year-olds that looked scarier than they had any right to. Woojae was well liked, but his friends were two floors down, studying fractions instead of algebra.
“Hey,” the boy next to him had whispered. He had a bad bowl cut and silver braces. “Do you have an eraser?”
He’d solved the problem perfectly. Woojae couldn’t understand why he needed an eraser, but he passed his over anyway. It was a little cartoon duck his mother had given him as part of a birthday bundle. All of his stationary had ducks on it.
“Woah,” the boy had said, “Where did you get this? It’s super cute.”
“It was a birthday gift.”
The boy scrubbed at his work until the page was wrinkled but clear. He passed the eraser back, almost half of the duck’s face now warn down. “Thank you.”
“It’s okay,” Woojae had replied. He stared at the boy for a while, who worked hard at solving problems and chewing his pencil into a fine wooden paste. He was cute. “Hey.”
The boy looked up.
Why Woojae was nervous, he couldn’t say. “I don’t know anyone in here.”
“I know. Ms Kim said before you came in that you’re from the grade below. Wanna be friends? My dad said you can never have too many.”
It was a kind thing for a seventeen-year-old to do for an insecure kid. “Yeah,” Woojae had replied, already half in love. He was very aware that kindness wasn’t considered to be cool at his age, which made the question mean even more.
“Cool. I’m Hyunjoon.”
“I’m… Woojae.”
“Nice to meet you, Woojae.” Hyunjoon looked back to his clean page, then rewrote the same answers he’d written previously.
It had been an excuse to talk to Woojae and offer him some solace in an unfamiliar setting, but Woojae hadn’t realized that until half a year later, and by that point it was too late. He was already in love, and the realization that Hyunjoon was even more of a sweetheart than he’d thought didn’t have much of an impact. The fountain was already overflowing, and another drop proved inconsequential.
If Woojae were to look back and write a list of all the sweet things Hyunjoon had done, he’d run out of paper before he ran out of examples.
-
Even the rejection had been sweet.
“I love you Woojae, really. But not like that,” Hyunjoon had said at eighteen. His hair looked better, but he still had the braces.
Woojae had confessed under the willow tree at the back of the school field. Hyunjoon’s friends were playing baseball during their lunch period, but he’d ditched them to listen to Woojae’s clumsy declaration of love. “Oh,” the younger had managed. “Okay.”
His heart was fracturing in the encompassing way only a teenager could, but Hyunjoon’s answering hug dulled the edge of the blade slightly. “You’ll always be my best friend,” Hyunjoon had whispered into his hair. “Whatever happens, I love you, okay? I’m sorry I don’t return your feelings in the same way, but that doesn’t mean I don’t adore you.”
A dull blade still pierced, but Hyunjoon looked so damned earnest when he pulled back to make sure Woojae wasn’t crying.
“You don’t owe me anything, it’s fine,” Woojae had said, abstractedly proud when his voice didn’t waver. “Love you too.”
They’d hugged again, and Woojae had picked his heart off the floor when Hyunjoon ran back to play baseball.
-
The fountain was still overflowing.
It kept pouring after a rejection, after Hyunjoon got his first girlfriend at the same year, and then his first boyfriend at the next year.
Woojae graduated, went to university, and (of course) studied math. He got used to his broken heart crunching in his chest like an empty eggshell. He got used to the fountain running.
Getting over Hyunjoon was impossible, because every time they met again he’d improved in some way, blossomed into someone even kinder, sweeter, smarter, more beautiful. It was a kick to the stomach each time, but the ache that lingered felt almost nice. It was familiar, at least.
Woojae had been in love with Hyunjoon almost as long as he’d known him, which made it difficult to sever from their relationship—and even if he could, he didn’t know if he would.
Their visits were sparse during college, because life often got in the way of any kind of love. They used messenger and zoom and facetime, and Woojae congratulated Hyunjoon on every good grade, every new partner. Hyunjoon did the same for Woojae, though his smile was always marred by caution when Woojae mentioned a new boyfriend. Well, unfortunately, Woojae wasn’t really good at finding nice ones.
-
When Woojae finally graduated, older, wiser, and officially fucking sick of math, Hyunjoon was halfway into his master’s in physical education.
Woojae was aimless, not including his new aversion to math.
“Come and visit me,” Hyunjoon had said over the phone, subdued in a way he rarely was. “It’s been months since we’ve met up, and I miss you.”
Woojae hummed, staring at his ceiling. He had an interview for a local bookstore the week after next. “I can do it next weekend, but I have to be back by Tuesday.”
“That’s okay. Whatever time you have, I want it.”
He smiled and wondered, faintly, how many times he’d been in this exact position, staring at his childhood ceiling and smiling because of this same certain person for years. “I’ll book a train then.”
“Do that,” Hyunjoon said, still soft. “I’ll let the guys know you’re coming. We can have a movie night.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It will be. You didn’t reply to that loser’s text, did you?”
No, he didn’t. It was sat in his inbox, unread; I miss you so much. A weird text to receive after being called a disappointing tease. “I haven’t replied.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, Hyung. I won’t take him back.”
“Good. He was a piece of shit.”
“He still is,” Woojae said, amused. Hyunjoon only knew the half of it; if he knew everything in the way that Minseok did, maybe he wouldn’t be so kind.
No offense, Woojae. But we’re going in different directions, or—I’m going in a different direction. You don’t seem to be going anywhere. After that blow, being called disappointing almost felt like nothing.
The thought of Hyunjoon’s staunch defense was comforting, but not something Woojae wanted to act on. He liked Hyunjoon just as he was, sweet, soft, and always so gentle for him.
“I’ll see you next week then,” Hyunjoon said.
“And I’ll see you.”
“I can’t wait.”
“You can, and you will.”
Hyunjoon sighed, but he only half succeeded in making it sound annoyed. “Fine.”
Woojae continued to smile at his ceiling like a fool. When they eventually hung up, he curled up onto his side and read the text, then deleted the conversation and blocked the number. It wasn’t the first he’d blocked, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but Hyunjoon’s chat popped up. It’s an adorable cartoon picture of a duck and a puppy sat together, with a caption; Look. Its u and Minseok!!!
Then Woojae smiled again, like a fool.
Always like a fool.
-
It never stopped aching, and the fountain never stopped flowing, but that was just life. The benefit of Hyunjoon’s friendship outweighed the cons of heartbreak.
Hyunjoon picked Woojae up from the station and swept him into a tight hug that smelled like teenage daydreams and summer nights running through fields, chasing the setting sun, laughing despite the imminent grounding they knew they’d receive once they made it home.
Woojae buried his head in Hyunjoon’s neck and enjoyed the touch. There’d been a period of three years right in the middle of their friendship, when Hyunjoon had been stressed about his future and his personality and his grades and his relationships, and he hadn’t liked touch from Woojae back then. It had ended a year ago, and now Woojae savored each embrace, just in case it was the last.
“There you are,” Hyunjoon whispered. His warm, minty breath tickled the shell of Woojae’s ear. He’d cut his hair again, short and cute and a little too crispy to be healthy. He felt like home in Woojae’s arms.
“Here I am,” Woojae replied, trying not to act too obvious about the way he was sniffing Hyunjoon’s neck.
“Once you finish huffing me do you wanna grab lunch before we meet up with everyone?”
He hid his wince behind a cocky smile. “I just can’t believe you showered for once.”
Hyunjoon squawked, but he still tried to pay for Woojae’s lunch like he always did. He still looked fond when Woojae wrestled the bill out of his hands and used his dwindling savings to cover Hyunjoon’s favorite drink.
It was weird to think about, if he actually let himself think about it. Nothing was new between them after so many years of friendship. Each step landed on a pavement worn down by cycled patterns, smooth to the touch from the tread of their feet. If Woojae were more romantic, he’d think of it like a ballroom floor instead. Every time Hyunjoon smiled and Woojae was spun it felt like the first time, but his shoes squeaked on wood that had seen him spin a thousand times before.
“He’s missed you more than usual,” Minseok complained during the movie. He looked grumpy, but his hand was in Woojae’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp. “Wouldn’t shut up about your visit.”
“It’s been a long couple of months.”
“Almost summer,” Minseok agreed. “Maybe we can Air B&B again, get somewhere for a week as a group.”
That sounded nice.
“How are you and Minhyung-hyung by the way?”
Minhyung, who was currently trying to wrestle the takeout menu from Hyunjoon’s unrelenting grip.
Minseok rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “University is hard, but we’re doing our best. That’s all we can do.”
“Who could have known you’d grow up to be so wise?”
“I knew.” They both looked over to Hyunjoon, who had apparently decided to start listening in. He grinned at Minseok, proud. “I knew you’d be wise. You’ve always been smart.”
“That makes one of us,” Minseok said, deserving the way Hyunjoon kicked him. He giggled, wiggling his brows at Hyunjoon, then kept laughing at something Woojae and Minhyung apparently couldn’t see. “We’re heading out soon. It’s been good to see you both.”
“We haven’t ordered food yet,” Minhyung said, a confused frown pressed into the corners of his mouth.
Whether he deserved the ensuing kick or not, Woojae couldn’t say. What he could say was that Minseok herded Minhyung out of the apartment with practiced ease, and though Hyunjoon laughed the entire time, there was something subdued in his eyes that Hyunjoon couldn’t place, the same quiet that was in his voice whenever they spoke, every time they spoke. It had been there for weeks now, heading into months.
“So,” Hyunjoon said, just before they settled into his bed together, freshly showered and in their night clothes (both wearing Hyunjoon’s by the way), “I wondered if you wanted to go out tomorrow.”
“Sure, where to?” Woojae asked, plugging his phone in. “Do you have something in mind?”
“The beach?”
It was half an hour on the bus. The weather was still chilly, but the sun was out more often than not. “That sounds good. I’m in.”
Hyunjoon turned the light off. They were both on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. Cozy in the sheets. “Would you like to do dinner afterwards?”
“Yeah, that sounds nice too.”
Hyunjoon’s quick inhale was loud in the following silence. Then, after another long, quiet second, “Could we make it a date?”
Disappointing tease.
Woojae turned to look at him, but in the darkness he couldn’t see anything. “What?”
“I like you,” Hyunjoon murmured, “As more than a friend. Can we go on a date tomorrow?”
Hyunjoon was doing a master’s degree. He knew wanted to do with his life. Meanwhile Wooje, What the fuck was he doing? There were only two aspects of his personality: loving Hyunjoon and hating math.
Woojae really wanted to say yes. I never stopped loving you.
But that damn words wouldn’t come out, and all Woojae could think about was, I’m going in a different direction. You don’t seem to be going anywhere.
“No,” he whispered, “I don’t think I can. I’m sorry.”
The answering silence only lasted for a moment before there was a touch against his cheek, warm as it always was. The back of Hyunjoon’s hand, stroking his skin softly. “Okay,” he answered, quiet but steady. “We’ll go to the beach as friends, then. Like normal.”
“I still love you,” Woojae said, almost desperate to get the truth out.
Bu it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what Hyunjoon needed to hear.
Hyunjoon laughed quietly. “Silly,” he replied, fond. “I love you too. That will never change.”
Neither of them slept.
-
The breeze that had tickled in the city felt like needles beside the sea. Woojae huddled further into his coat and watched as Hyunjoon did the same, closer to the water, skipping stones into the frothy waves.
They were both exhausted, but the company hadn’t changed. They ate breakfast together sleepily, then Hyunjoon dozed on Woojae’s shoulder for the bus ride. Woojae knew it would be his turn to doze on the way back. They were still in the same dance, spinning the same circles.
I like you as more than a friend.
When the hell had that happened? Why had it happened?
He wanted to ask, but that wouldn’t be fair. Not now. One of Hyunjoon’s steps had slipped, new floor had been touched.
“Hyunjoon-hyung?” Woojae called.
Hyunjoon spun around, wide eyed behind his glasses. He jogged over. “Yeah? What’s up?”
“What changed?”
Why did your foot slip?
Hyunjoon blinked. He scrunched up his face in a cute way that Woojae had squealed about at fifteen, seventeen, eighteen, twenty, twenty-two years old. “What do you mean?”
Fuck being fair. He’d been a stubborn kid, and he’d grown into a stubborn man. Hyunjoon could blame Woojae’s stubborn mother. “When did you start liking me?”
“Oh.” Hyunjoon looked back out at the ocean and shrugged. He took his time considering how to reply, and Woojae let him. “Weirdly, I can’t think of a specific moment. It’s just like—and I mean, please don’t take offense, but you have awful taste in men.”
Woojae couldn’t help but laugh. “You think so?”
“They’re all so mean.” Hyunjoon scowled, but the expression gentled before he said, “I don’t know when, but at some point over the last year my thoughts went from ‘They shouldn’t treat you like that,’ to ‘I would treat you the way that you deserve.’ Well—yeah. I don’t know, man.”
It shouldn’t have been so easy to talk about, but things were always easy between them. Even this uncharted flooring was known—they’d built it, after all. With steady hands and gentle devotion, they’d built the ballroom they danced in.
“Do you remember when I confessed to you as a kid?”
“What, when we had math together?” Hyunjoon laughed. “Yeah. I had a crush on Jisu at the time.”
Woojae knew that. He’d cried about it for days. “Fuck Jisu.”
“Yeah, fuck Jisu. She let my hamster out of his cage and he ran away.”
Woojae knew that too. It’s why he’d said it. “I don’t have any goals, Hyung. I don’t know what I’m doing right now.”
Hyunjoon looked back at him, squinting against the sun. “Right now? You’re at the beach, with me. You’re enjoying the peace.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It can be, if you stop pressuring yourself to know everything. Only Sanghyeok-hyung knows everything.”
“Why do you like me?”
Hyunjoon smiled. It was the expression of a man with his heart on his sleeve, a boy with a duck eraser in his hand. “Because the world is a big, scary place, and I realized that you’re the place that feels like home.”
“I never stopped,” Woojae whispered.
“Never stopped what?”
“Loving you.”
Hyunjoon sighed. “Shit, Woojae,” he said, “We have a lot of time to make up for.”
Woojae was in a fugue state, somewhere between collapsing and jumping into Hyunjoon’s arms. “We don’t,” he said. “If we’d dated as teenagers I would have dumped you. You were too angsty.”
Hyunjoon laughed, but it was muted. “And now? Would you dump me now?”
“Ask again,” Woojae said instead of replying. “The question from last night.”
“Can we go on a date tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Woojae said. “After the date I’ll answer if I’d dump you. I can’t make up my mind before I test the water.”
Hyunjoon pulled him close. He rubbed their cold noses together. “Annoying.”
Woojae was going to start crying soon, he could feel the pressure building behind his eyes. “It’s somehow felt like we were dancing,” he mumbled, nonsensical. “But I felt like I was the only one that could see it.”
“Sorry,” Hyunjoon whispered, closing his eyes. “Guess I was too focused on my footing.”
Woojae leant up and kissed him, and for that one beautiful second, they were experiencing something new.
Woojae had stopped spinning, and the ballroom was still.