Archive of Our Own

YEAR ONE – TABLE FOR TWO

Leo had known for two months now.

The doctor had spoken carefully, choosing each word as though it might shatter if handled wrong, explaining that the cancer had progressed faster than expected. What had once been treatable was no longer something they could promise to cure.

At the time, the information had felt distant, unreal. Like it belonged to someone else’s body, someone else’s future. He had nodded along, listened politely, walked out of the hospital as if the world had not just narrowed into something fragile and temporary.

Only now, two months later, did it begin to settle into his bones.

That diagnosis changed — everything.

He came home that evening more tired than he had ever been after a studio session, his limbs heavy and his head aching dully behind his eyes. The apartment was quiet when he stepped inside, the familiar scent of laundry detergent and coffee lingering in the air. He dropped his bag by the door and sank onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling for a long time.

He had planned to stop for flowers on the way home. Something small and bright, just because Sangwon liked them. The thought had slipped from his mind somewhere between the clinic and the bus ride back.

Cancer.

He had cancer.

The first diagnosis had come with hope — something manageable, something possible of surviving. Now, after the most recent visit, he’ll be dead in a couple of years — if lucky.

A couple of years. 

Who would come to his funeral? Would his friends from the industry show up? His mother, flying in from Australia, red-eyes and silent? He hoped they would come. 

Mostly, he wondered about Sangwon.

His Sangwon.

Sangwon, who had been there since high school. Sangwon, who still walked around their apartment barefoot even in winter. Sangwon, who had somehow become the person his life quietly revolved around without either of them ever daring to say it out loud.

His first love. His only love. Even if they had never named it.

They had been orbiting around each other for years, unsure if the other felt the same way. 

They moved in together during Leo’s first year as a rookie producer barely scraping by, and Sangwon was only a mere freshman in university. The apartment had been far too nice for boys their age , spacious and modern, all thanks to his mom back in Australia who financially supported him while he pursued his dreams in a foreign country.

Now, Leo was a well respected producer in the industry and Sangwon was in his last year of college, bound to graduate in only a few months.

Their love had grown the way stubborn things did — slow and quiet, like a flower pushing through dry soil. It had taken years.

They weren’t shy with each other. They touched easily, leaned into each other without thinking, shared clothes and space and silence. But when it came to the thing that mattered most, they had both hesitated.

Leo never spoke on it, never acknowledged it, but Sangwon was different. 

“Hyung,” Sangwon had whined into his ear one time, tugging on his arm as he was distracted with an email. “When will you ask me out?”

The question halted his brain function. 

When he turned, Sangwon was standing far too close, his hair falling into his eyes, his expression open and daring in a way that made Leo’s chest tighten. He could smell sunscreen and the faint trace of soap on his skin.

“What?” He rasped, voice barely above a whisper.

Sangwon leaned in closer, smiling like he knew what he was doing. “When will you ask me out?” He repeated, this time enunciating each word slowly.

“I —” He let out a long sigh, shutting his laptop and running a hand through his hair.

“Hyung, I know you like me,” Sangwon said with a glint in his eye. He was clearly having fun with the teasing. “And I know that you know I like you too.”

They went on dates. They slept on the same couch. They waited for each other at night.

Leo still couldn’t form the right words in his head, couldn’t find the voice stuck in the back of his throat.

“We go on dates all the time,” Sangwon said matter of factly. “So just hurry up and ask me out already,” he smiled.

He smiled.

As if he hadn’t just nearly sent him into full cardiac arrest.

Leo set out immediately to buy a small gold dainty bracelet to gift the younger for when he would finally ask him to be his boyfriend. It would have matched the family ring Sangwon wore constantly on his pinky finger. 

That was also the day the headaches began.

Two weeks later, he was sitting in a hospital room being told he had cancer.

He never told anyone.

Now, that bracelet sat in the back of his closet, buried under all of the hoodies and sweaters that Sangwon liked to steal on occasion, hidden like a promise he was no longer brave enough to keep.

The door beeped, snapping him back to reality.

Sangwon stepped into the entryway, letting out a long breath from the cold weather outside. His blond hair was tousled from the wind, cheeks bright pink, face squished against his favorite blue winter scarf. His eyes fell on Leo and his smile blossomed so beautifully, Leo felt his heart clench at the sight.

“Hyung, you’re back early!” 

Sangwon bounded over, still bundled up in his winter jacket. He suddenly looked younger, like the boy in high school that scolded him everyday for not studying. 

“Yeah,” his voice broke. 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, the artist canceled so we rescheduled for another day,” Leo lied straight through his teeth. He had been the one to cancel in order to fit in a last minute doctor’s appointment.

“Boo,” Sangwon pouted while slipping off his winter attire. “You’ve been working hard on this album for them.”

“Yeah, I guess I have,” Leo muttered, mind still running loops.

Sangwon’s expression softened when he noticed the way Leo hadn’t moved from the couch. He crossed the room and sat beside him, resting a warm hand against his shoulder.

“You okay?”

Leo let out a forced laugh. “Everything’s fine, Won-ie. I just didn’t get that much sleep last night — kinda glad they canceled.” He tried his best to play into the lie.

Sangwon’s beautiful smile returned. Leo shut his eyes, wanting to imprint that image behind his eyelids for eternity.

“Why don’t you take a nap. I have to leave again to pick up a few things at the bookstore, but I’ll be back before you wake up.”

Leo wanted to say he would come too. Wanted to say stay. Instead, exhaustion settled into his limbs like something heavy and inevitable.

Sangwon threw a soft taupe blanket over him, before gently caressing his temple.

“Take my car,” Leo mumbled with his eyes shut. He could already feel his breath evening out.

Sangwon snorted. “No, I’ll just take the bus, it’s only a fifteen minute bus ride.”

They shared one car — well, more like it was Leo’s car — and he constantly insisted that the younger take it whenever he wanted to, but he never did. He was only ever in it when Leo drove the both of them anywhere, otherwise, he relied on public transportation. Always finding an excuse like: I’m just getting my steps in or it’s too much of a hassle to park

Leo listened to him move around the apartment, pulling on his boots, opening and closing drawers. He wanted to speak. To tell him everything. To say the words he had been holding back for years.

Instead, sleep took him before he could.

And Sangwon left the apartment unaware that time had already begun to run out.

—

The two of them had met the same year Leo arrived in Seoul. 

Leo transferred into the same high school that Sangwon attended, and despite being in completely different grade levels, they still somehow crossed paths. Seoul felt too big and too loud in those first weeks, and Leo found himself clinging to anything that made the days feel survivable.

In order to keep himself mentally sane while away from home for the first time, Leo had decided to partake in an after school dance club — a great way to make friends and stay active. 

That was where he met Sangwon.

The two didn’t get along at first, barely acknowledging each other. They brushed past each other, never regarding the other’s presence. The entire club would go out to eat together and they still wouldn’t talk to the other. 

There was no real reason for it — just an awkwardness that hung between them, thick and unspoken.

The door to the dance room was already open, music spilling faintly into the hallway. Inside, Sangwon was alone. His bag was tossed in the corner, his reflection moving in sharp, deliberate lines across the mirror as he repeated the same sequence over and over, each step more precise than the last.

Leo dropped his bag with a dull thud and slid down the wall, resting his chin on his knees as he watched.

“Ever thought of becoming an idol?” He blurted.

Sangwon didn’t stop dancing, but his eyes snapped over to the male curled up against the wall. “No.”

“I think you’d make a good idol,” Leo muttered.

“Why? Because you think I’m handsome?” Sangwon replied sharply. 

There was an edge to his voice, sharp from familiarity. Compliments about his face came easily. About anything else, rarely.

“Because I heard you singing the other day,” Leo admitted. “In the music room. I was helping Mister Park with some papers in his office. He said you were too shy to sing with other people around, but I think your voice is nice.”

Sangwon slowed to a stop, staring at his own reflection. The music still echoed around them, engulfing them.

“I want to be a teacher,” he said after a moment.

“You’d be good at that too,” Leo replied without thinking.

Sangwon turned then, finally facing him. His chest rose and fell steadily, shirt sticking to his skin. His hair was dark and messy, eyebrows thick beneath damp bangs. Leo tightened his grip on his own pant leg without realizing it.

“How about you?”

“What about me?” Leo tilted his head.

“What do you want to be? An idol?” Sangwon walked over to his waterbottle, taking large gulps from it.

Leo shook his head. “Producer. I want to be a producer.”

Sangwon studied him in silence, water bottle in one hand, the other resting against his hip as he shifted his weight unevenly.

Then he smiled.

All straight white teeth, lips curving beautifully. His eyes scrunched up and his cheeks dusted a shimmering pink — maybe it was the lighting or the sweat, who knows. 

“Well,” Sangwon said, “I’m rooting for you, Producer Lee.”

And just like that, something between them shifted.

—

After their first encounter, Leo never felt that cold shoulder from Sangwon ever again. 

The younger opened up quickly, and Leo learned that beneath his quiet exterior was someone who loved awful dad jokes and reacted to everything with high-pitched squeals of excitement. It was impossible not to grow fond of him.

“Want to go grab dinner?” Leo suggested one day. 

He had started treatment a week earlier. 

At first, it had hit him hard — the nausea, the fatigue that settled into his bones, the strange hollowness that came and went without warning. He had hidden most of it behind long hours in the studio, feeling guilty whenever he caught the disappointment on Sangwon’s face when he came home too late.

Now, for the first time in days, he felt almost like himself again.

Sangwon lifted his head from the couch where he had been curled beneath a blanket, a book balanced against his knees. “Dinner?”

Leo nodded, already reaching for his keys on the counter.

“I need to get ready then!” The younger exclaimed, scurrying into his room, leaving his book unmarked and abandoned on the couch.

Leo wasn’t able to get a single word in as he watched the younger scurry away. He let out a sigh and sat down with a huff on the couch. A chuckle slipped past his lips at how cute the other was. 

He picked up the book Sangwon had left behind — Letters to Yves. 

He still remembered how hard it had been to find. The original had been printed in French, and the Korean translation had taken weeks of searching and more phone calls than he liked to admit. Sangwon had nearly cried when he gave it to him.

“Hyung!” Sangwon called from his room. “Is this a nice dinner or just a normal dinner?”

“It can be nice if you want,” Leo replied, slipping a bookmark between the pages before standing. “Just don’t take forever.”

“I’m not,” Sangwon’s voice was muffled through the door, he could imagine the pout on his lips.

The door flew open a moment later, and Sangwon’s familiar clean scent filled the hallway. Leo felt his shoulders loosen without meaning to.

“Ready?” Sangwon asked, smiling like he had been waiting for this all day.

Leo raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking if I’m ready?”

Sangwon only shrugged and brushed past him, shoulder knocking lightly into Leo’s chest. Leo caught his wrist on instinct and pulled him back.

Sangwon yelped softly and immediately flushed. “Hyung.”

Leo laughed and let him go, heart racing for reasons he refused to examine.

They bundled each other up before heading out, Sangwon scolding him for not wearing a thicker coat and Leo insisting his scarf was unnecessary. Leo chose a restaurant that felt right for Sangwon’s casual clothes, something warm and quiet.

“Oh,” Sangwon said as they stepped out of the car. “We’ve never been here.”

“Change of scenery,” Leo replied.

Sangwon eyed him suspiciously, front teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. Leo tensed up, he could practically read the other’s mind, and he really didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Are you going to ask me out tonight, Hyung?”

Leo hesitated only a second before reaching for his wrist again. “Come on. It’s cold.”

He didn’t answer the question.

Sangwon followed without pulling away, but the silence between them felt heavier than usual.

He glanced back at him, and he felt his heart clench. Sangwon had his eyes glued to the ground, a small frown on his face.

“Table for two, please,” Leo said to the hostess. 

They were seated in the corner, a nice local restaurant that Sangwon had mentioned at some point months ago — but it seemed like he had forgotten all about that mention.

“Sangwon,” Leo said gently, lowering his eyes to meet his.

Sangwon looked up, a small pout on his lips. “Why are you taking so long, Hyung?” His voice barely above a whisper.

“I — I don’t want to rush things,” Leo swallowed dryly. “We already live together, isn’t that more than enough for now?”

It wasn’t. 

They both knew it.

It wasn’t enough for him and he knew it wasn’t enough for Sangwon. 

They both craved for more, but Leo couldn't bring himself to ask the one question that he’s been building up to for so many years.

“I guess,” Sangwon mumbled, tracing circles on the table.

Leo fought back a frown, and forced himself not to reach across and stop him. He would have to get used to disappointing him like this.

It was better this way. There was too much on the line. Too much he couldn’t keep up with.

The waitress arrived and took their orders, complimenting Sangwon’s perfume. Sangwon brightened immediately, the moment slipping away as easily as it had formed, and Leo let himself breathe again.

For now, this was enough.

—

Leo decided that it was best to start documenting his days in a small journal for Sangwon. 

He wasn’t exactly sure if the treatment would work, but the doctor had spoken with high hopes so he had his fingers crossed. But even so, he still took precautions — never too safe to be sorry.

At first, the entries were short, just small blurbs about their daily lives. He still wasn’t comfortable mentioning his illness in permanent pen. It would feel too real, too sudden. He wanted to leave Sangwon with more positive writings.

With only a few months left before graduation, Sangwon managed to land a job immediately after finishing school. It was rare enough that he came home shaking with excitement, grin so wide it almost hurt to look at.

Leo had lifted him off the floor and spun him around while Sangwon squealed into his shoulder, breathless and laughing.

They celebrated at a small bar with a few close friends. Sangwon grew pleasantly buzzed, clinging to Leo’s arm and talking too fast. Leo stuck to nonalcoholic drinks, which wasn’t unusual — he had never been much of a drinker anyway.

Now, he sat alone in a hospital waiting room, waiting for his name to be called in order for him to receive his next rounds of treatment. 

Sangwon had questioned why he had left so early this morning when he tended to leave later in the day due to his flexible schedule. He made up an excuse on the spot about a deadline being moved to an earlier date, and Sangwon made a sound of understanding before ushering him out before he was late.

There was a small flicker in Sangwon’s eyes when Leo had lied, like the younger could tell he was lying. Like the younger was waiting for the truth, but ultimately just let it go.

The waiting room was cold and sterile. There were a handful of patients scattered about, but barely any noise — just the humming of the heater and the mumbling of the nurses near the front desk. The waiting room population consisted mostly of elderly, some who had looked at him in pity when he had checked in for his treatment.

He focused on the white wall in front of him, tracing imaginary lines in the paint.

Across the room sat a middle-aged couple. The man looked too frail for his age — skin pale, cheeks hollow — but he laughed softly at something his wife whispered into his ear. She looked exhausted too, though in a different way. The kind of tired that came from loving someone you might lose.

Leo wondered what it would feel like to have Sangwon sitting beside him like that. To have his hand held while he waited. To hear his voice low and steady, telling him everything would be fine.

He wasn’t sure which would hurt more — being alone, or having Sangwon here with that same look in his eyes.

Because Sangwon was everywhere in his life. In every plan he made, every paycheck he brought home, every thought about the future. Everything he did was shaped around the idea of Sangwon still being there.

He wanted him close.

But he didn’t want to be the reason Sangwon learned how to grieve.

“Lee Leo.” 

A nurse called his name from the doorway. Leo snapped his eyes open, unaware they had even shut in the first place.

He shakily stood up on his feet, eyes lingering on the couple in the corner one last time. The wife turned to him just in time to make a few seconds of eye contact. She offered a warm smile, before turning back to her husband who was mumbling something under his breath to her. She giggled, wrapping a hand around his upper arm.

Leo turned away before he could think too hard about it.

He followed the nurse through the metal door and into the familiar room, lowering himself into the same chair he always used, preparing himself once again to endure something Sangwon still didn’t know existed.

—

“Hyung.” A whisper.

“Leo Hyung.” Louder this time.

“Hyung.” 

Leo finally dragged his eyes open. The room was dim, the light outside already beginning to fade. He must have been asleep longer than he thought. His body felt heavy, as though the couch had swallowed him whole.

He had gotten home from his treatment a few hours ago, and he had almost immediately fallen asleep on the couch.

“Sangwon?” Leo slurried through his sleep, trying to sit up but failing.

Sangwon immediately set his hands on him, pushing him to lay back down.

“What are you doing back so early?” Leo asked, voice rough and slow. His tongue felt thick in his mouth.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Sangwon murmured.

“Client… canceled for the day,” Leo replied, closing his eyes again.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder. He could feel Sangwon move to thread his fingers through his hair, and immediately, he pulled back before he could stop himself. 

His eyes shot open again and his brows furrowed. He was so aware, too aware, of his hair possibly thinning out.

Sangwon frowned. “But you like it when I touch your hair.”

Leo turned his face into the couch pillow, hiding from him. “Not today, Sangwon.”

He hadn’t meant for it to sound so sharp. Fatigue twisted everything inside him, blurring hunger with nausea, pain with panic. Some days he couldn’t even tell what his body wanted anymore.

Behind him, Sangwon went quiet.

Then he stood.

“You’ve been acting different lately, hyung.”

Leo didn’t open his eyes, afraid that they would well up and he wouldn't be able to stop the tears in time. 

“Have I?” he asked softly. He didn’t know what else to say.

A pause.

Then some shuffling.

Leo opened his eyes just in time to see Sangwon’s back disappearing down the hall.

The bedroom door closed with a quiet click.

The sound was small, but it felt loud inside Leo’s chest. His throat tightened painfully as he stared at the empty space where Sangwon had been, wishing — far too late — that he had found better words.

—

After that day, they never brought it up again. 

Leo gave himself one long night to fall apart in silence before deciding he couldn’t keep acting that way toward Sangwon. If these were going to be the last years of his life, then Sangwon deserved them to be gentle. He deserved warmth, not distance.

And so he mustered up all his strength each and every time he saw Sangwon, and showered him with the same love he always had done. At first, Sangwon gave him strange looks, like he was trying to read between the lines, but Leo couldn’t stop. The guilt gnawed at him constantly. He had already made Sangwon sad too many times, and now it followed him into his sleep.

That morning, Leo stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting his tie for the tenth time.

Sangwon was graduating today.

The younger had left their apartment in a hurry this morning, having overslept five minutes later than usual. To Leo, not a big deal, but to Sangwon, that threw his entire morning into a spiral.

Leo had helped him steam his cap and gown while Sangwo did his hair and makeup. He even made a quick breakfast for the younger, which he inhaled before he was out the door with a beaming smile and a hurried ‘see you later, Hyung!’

A week earlier, Sangwon had eyed him across the dinner table oddly.

“What?” Leo asked wearily. 

“Do you own a suit, Hyung?” Sangwon asked slowly.

Leo had paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “I… don’t think so.”

Sangwon pursed his lips. “We need to get you one then.”

“For what?” Leo raised a brow as he shoveled another spoon of soup in his mouth — it was one of the few things he could find himself stomaching these days.

“For my graduation,” he said as if it was the most obvious answer in the whole world. 

“But you’re graduating, not me,” Leo said pointedly.

“I know,” Sangwon sassed, and Leo tried to hide his smile behind his spoon. “But I want to take nice pictures with you, Hyung. We don’t have enough.”

“We have plenty of pictures,” Leo added. He wasn’t the biggest fan of suits and ties.

Sangwon gave him a look.

Leo threw his hands up. “Okay, alright. I’ll invest in a suit.”

“Yay!” Sangwon clapped in excitement.

So that was that, and Leo scheduled a suit fitting the next day by himself. Sangwon had offered to accompany him — more like he wanted to go with — but Leo had declined over and over, stating that he was going to go after work and that he would be fine. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He did go after work, but he wasn’t fine. 

He had the hardest time picking out a suit and tie. He was quite sensible when it came to his everyday streetway, but formal clothing was usually Sangwon's forte. On any other day before his diagnosis, he would have begged for Sangwon to join him, but his treatment left him with bruises and scars that he didn’t want to find excuses for.

The tailor had paused when he saw him, eyes softening with something too close to pity before continuing with the measurements.

His hair was out for the first time in a while too. He had been wearing beanies and snapbacks often. His hair was yet to thin out, but he was scared. It wasn’t a hundred percent that his hair would fall out completely or even at all, but the chances were high.

He smoothened out the front of his suit once more, a shaky breath leaving his lips. The red and white bouquet of roses and lilies sat on his dresser, waiting to be gifted to the newly grad.

“You’ll be just fine,” he whispered to his reflection before he left the apartment.

He had found Junseo and Jiahao already sitting in the crowd, saving seats for the rest of them with random items. Jiahao raised a brow at his attire. 

“Sangwon?” He asked without thought.

Leo bit his lip to hide his smile and nodded. 

The couple sat with their hands intertwined, both dressed in much more casual clothes than Leo himself. In any other circumstance, Leo would find himself flushed from the attention, but today, he couldn’t find any thought to care about such things.

He took a seat next to Junseo with three remaining seats to his right for the others who were known for being notoriously late.

“Long is grabbing flowers for Geonwoo,” Jiahao said. “As for the other two… you already know how they are,” Jiahao rolled his eyes playfully.

Leo chuckled as he tucked his bouquet under his chair. 

They made small talk while waiting for the others, and Junseo’s gaze lingered on Leo a moment too long.

“Have you been on a diet?” Junseo asked, studying him.

Leo adjusted his collar nervously. “No. Why? Do I look better?” he joked.

Junseo smiled. “Sangwon always talked about fattening you up.”

“He hasn’t been cooking much lately,” Leo said — a lie. Sangwon cooked when he was stressed, and finals had him wound tight.

Junseo nudged him softly. “You can’t rely on Won like that.”

Leo chuckled softly, “yeah, I know.”

A loud laugh resonated from behind, he turned to see Xinlong, Anxin, and Sanghyeon shuffling down the row of seats with apologetic looks.

“Wow, you guys actually got here before it started,” Junseo teased.

“I made sure we left the house on time,” Sanghyeon said proudly. 

They laughed at the youngest’s antics before settling down as the ceremony started.

The previous two times he had sat in this exact stadium, he had watched Junseo and then Jiahao walk the stage. During those times, he found himself wondering what it would have been like if he had decided to pursue university instead of his dreams of becoming a producer. 

Now, he wondered the same thing as he watched the graduates march out by major. He wondered if he would have gotten more time with Sangwon. Maybe they would have shared a few classes and would have been able to study together during their free time. 

During his first few years of his producer career, he had been so busy he would go days without seeing Sangwon. Their schedules never lined up and Leo couldn’t find the right time to schedule anything with anyone but his team.

Eventually, things simmered down. But now that he was counting down his days, he couldn't help but hold some regrets. He had chosen his career in the end, but how different would his life be if he had chosen Sangwon? His Sangwon.

His mind wondered as the majors were called up in alphabetical order. Only coming back to his senses when Electrical engineering was called and they cheered as Geonwoo walked across the stage with a toothy smile. Xinlong cheered the loudest as he clutched his bouquet close to him, and Leo smiled at the sight.

Then they sat down again, and waited. Occasionally, one of them would cheer and whoop for a friend of theirs that walked the stage, and Leo would quietly clap for them as well.

And as the Literature majors lined up, Leo’s eyes zoomed in on a beautiful blond boy that stood right in the middle of his small graduating class. He was happily chatting with a classmate, tassel moving widely as he expressed himself brightly. 

Leo smiled at the sight. 

Xinlong nudged his leg, and Leo looked at him in question. Xinlong gave him a knowing look before turning his attention back to the graduates. He bit back a smile.

As Sangwon walked the stage, they stood up with loud cheers and claps. They whooped and hollered, and Leo could feel his chest beat against his chest with pride. After years of crying and stress, Sangwon had finally made it and Leo couldn’t have been any prouder.

Sangwon walked the stage with confidence. He grabbed his diploma and shook multiple hands before pausing for a photo near the end. His eyes trailed the audience and landed on their group, and he jumped up and down with his diploma pushed out.

They cheered again for him and Leo felt time slow as Sangwon giggled to himself, nose scrunching up. Leo felt his smile fall for just a second, a thought of sorrow and regret passing through, before it was gone and a smile was back on his face.

Sangwon didn’t seem to notice as he continued to wave at them, still teetering back and forth on his feet.

—

They found Sangwon and Geonwoo outside on the field for photos. They were both speaking with their respective families, giving hugs and getting smooched from their mothers. 

But when her gaze landed on Leo, the smile faltered — only for a heartbeat.

Leo caught it anyway.

He knew what she was thinking.

He had been thinking the same thing for months.

Sangwon needs something stable. Someone who will be here.

She didn’t know about his diagnosis, but she had been questioning why it was taking him so long to make things official.

“Sangwon, Honey, stand next to your friends for some photos,” his mother ushered him towards them. 

Geonwoo slipped in near the end beside Xinlong, and Sangwon wiggled his way in between Junseo and Leo like it was the most natural place in the world. Leo didn’t even think before draping an arm around him. Sangwon leaned into it instantly, tipping his head onto Leo’s shoulder. His soft blond hair brushed against Leo’s jaw, still warm from the sun.

“Cheese!” Sangwon’s mother called, already tapping her phone again and again.

Sangwon tilted his head closer and whispered, playful, “Are these for me?”

Leo glanced down at the bouquet he had been gripping for hours, the stems damp in his palm. 

“Oh — yeah. Yes.”

Why did his voice feel like it didn’t belong to him anymore?

Sangwon giggled and accepted the bouquet, holding it close to his face for a long whiff. “They’re beautiful, Hyung. Thank you.”

Leo smiled and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, suddenly unsure what to do with them, with himself.

“Mom, get one of just me and Leo Hyung!” Sangwon called out, dragging Leo by the arm away from the group. “He dressed up just for me!”

Sangwon’s mother paused.

Just for a second.

Then forced a smile and nodded. Anything for her son.

Sangwon wrapped both arms around Leo’s left arm, the red and white bouquet pressed between them as he leaned his head back onto Leo’s shoulder. His body fit there too easily, like it always had. Like it always would — if Leo had his way.

Leo looked down at Sangwon. The flutter of his lashes, the slope of his nose, the pout of his lips — all something he didn’t have enough time with. 

A flash went off.

“Leo, look this way!”

He startled slightly, turning toward the camera just as a breeze swept across the field. It carried the scent of cut grass and warm fabric and summer beginnings. Sangwon tightened his grip on Leo’s arm, as if afraid he might drift away.

“Cheese!” Sangwon said brightly, voice full of life and plans and tomorrows.

Leo smiled for the camera.

For a moment, he forgot about hospitals and test results and days counted in numbers instead of seasons. For a moment, he was just standing beside the boy he loved, watching him glow in his cap and gown.

And for the first time in a long while, Leo felt content.

Truly, painfully happy.

YEAR TWO - TEARS AT THE DINNER TABLE

Sangwon started his job a few months after graduation. Before that, he spent nearly a full month traveling with his family, something his mother had insisted on as a “proper celebration.” It left Leo alone in their apartment with too much quiet and too much time.

He learned during that stretch that his hair loss would be minimal. He wouldn’t go completely bald, but there was still less of it than there used to be. Enough that he noticed. Enough that he kept wearing beanies even indoors, pretending it was just habit.

Treatment was beginning to drag along, and the doctor had the same old updates for him. 

Everything looks okay. 

Better than we expected. 

Your body is taking this treatment very well.

Same old dull clinic, same anxiety each time he went. He only shut his eyes and leaned his head back and thought. 

He thought about the what-ifs, the whens, the hows, the whys. He thought about everything. He thought about his mom back in Australia, his friends, his career — but most of all, he thought about Sangwon.

His Sangwon. His rock, his reason. His everything.

For the month Sangwon was away, Leo missed him so badly it became physical. Some nights, he would sit near the window and stare up at the moon, clutching one of Sangwon’s favorite books to his chest and crying quietly to himself.

Then he would cry harder when he imagined Sangwon standing in that same spot someday after he was gone.

That thought never left him.

He was getting weaker, spacing out more often. But on the outside, he had yet to really show it. Maybe Sangwon noticed. Maybe he didn’t. Even if he did, he never said anything.

One evening, when Sangwon was talking excitedly about his future — about promotions, apartments, about where he might want to live in a few years — Leo snapped.

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” 

The words came out sharp and sudden. Cold and bitter.

Sangwon’s words came to a halt. “Hyung — what?” His voice softened instantly, surprise flashing across his face. “Is everything okay?”

No, nothing is okay. 

Everything is going to shit. 

I’m dying. I’m tired. I’m losing weight. I’m scared. 

Leo’s breath turned ragged, shoulders rising and falling heavily as he fought to keep the words inside his mouth.

Lately, he found himself avoiding anything about the future. He hated that his own future was slim to none. Hated that a future with Sangwon had never truly been promised to him in the first place.

Promises made just to be broken.

How cruel. How unfair.

“No,” he whispered.

Sangwon scooted closer. “What’s wrong, Hyung?”

“It’s just… work. That’s all,” Leo concluded, head bowed as he fiddled with his fingers on his lap. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay, Hyung. Some days are like that,” Sangwon muttered as he scooted closer, pulling Leo into his arms. 

His hand reached up to cup the back of Leo’s head, cladded with a beanie.

Sangwon’s warmth and scent wrapped around him completely, and for a moment, Leo let himself sink into it — into the safety, into the illusion that nothing was wrong, into the quiet place where he could pretend the future still existed.

—

“Hyung, I’m thinking of adopting a cat. Thoughts?” Sangwon popped his head into Leo’s room, leaning lazily against the door frame. The side of his shirt rose up the slightest, revealing pale, bare skin.

“Hyung?”

“Huh?” Leo snapped his eyes back up. “Oh, um… I think that’s a good idea.”

“You think?” Sangwon smiled, walking over to his bed and slinking down onto it as Leo watched from his desk. “I was thinking in the future we could adopt more, but I think one is good for now,” he hummed.

In the future.

Leo turned back to his laptop, pretending to fiddle with random beats and sliders.

“I don’t want to think that far ahead,” he muttered under his breath, shoulders hunched.

“Huh? But you used to always talk about the future.”

Used to.

Leo remained mute, not urging the younger to continue, hoping he’d get the hint. But he didn’t. “What about your producing career? Don’t you want to achieve more, Hyung? You always mentioned that. And what about us? We —”

“Sangwon,” Leo’s voice cut sharp and final. “Please, stop.” There wasn’t much left in him. “I — please, stop,” he repeated, quieter this time, almost pleading.

Leo could hear some shuffling behind him, then Sangwon’s voice was closer than before. “But Hyung, I —”

“Sangwon!” Leo hissed, standing up and whipping around to come face to face with the boy he loved — loves. “Please, no more of this — future talk. I’m done. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. What do you not understand?” Leo frantically waved his hands around, face burning, heart pounding against his chest.

Sangwon’s eyes widened, lips parting in shock. 

Fuck.

Leo faltered at the sight. “Won,” he stepped forward, hand reaching out instinctively. His heart burned at the sight.

“No,” Sangwon whispered, stepping back. His eyes glistened, nose scrunching, cheeks pink and trembling. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“Won,” Leo called again, stepping closer each time Sangwon stepped away.

“No!” Sangwon screamed, fists balled up by his side. “You don’t get to call me that, Hyung!” His voice cracked, raw and real. His bottom lip quiver as tears began to build up in his doe eyes. “I’ve been so — patient with you,” he spat. “I’ve avoided all the topics you’ve grown to hate. I wait for you day and night. But you’ve changed, Hyung.”

Leo remained rooted in spot, trembling under the thick layers of clothes. He pressed his nails deep against the palm of his hands, cold trembling fingers leaving crescents along his skin. 

“What are you doing, Hyung?” Sangwon asked through tears. His voice was pitched and shaky. “I’m waiting for you to choose me,” he confessed. “I thought maybe… maybe you wanted to choose your career and so I let you. I avoided the topic of us for months, but now I’m starting to see that it’s more than just that.”

Leo clenched his jaw. Words refused to come. His legs wouldn’t move; he felt trapped under the weight of his own chest. His beautiful boy was hurting, and it was all because of him. His own cruelness. His own selfishness. That hurt more than anything.

“What are you choosing, Hyung? Your career? Me? — Us? I thought you would have always chosen us in the end.”

Sangwon’s voice broke him, each word a hammer against his ribcage. Tears stung behind his eyes, throat tight with things unsaid.

Sangwon. Won. Won-ie.

My love.

I love you so much. 

Too much. 

I’m begging you to stop.

“You don’t know either, huh?” Sangwon scoffed softly. Arms crossed over his chest as he glanced out the window in sudden disinterest. He laughed hollowly under his breath. “What’s the point,” he muttered.

He gave one last look at Leo, before stepping out of his room and shutting the door on his way out.

Leo stood frozen for a long moment, staring at the closed door. The soft click still ringing in his ears.

He pressed his hands to his face, sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, knees pulled close to his chest. His fingers trembled uncontrollably, scratching at the arms of his sweater as if the pain of contact could release the ache in his chest.

He could still see Sangwon’s face. Pink cheeks, wide eyes, trembling lips. That raw mix of hurt, disbelief, and disappointment burned into him like fire.

I’ve ruined him. I’ve ruined everything.

His chest tightened until it felt like his ribs might crack. He couldn’t breathe. Every inhale reminded him of the weight pressing down in his lungs. He wanted to call out, run after him, apologize, explain, tell him everything — but even the thought of saying the words made him falter.

I can’t. I can’t tell him. I can’t make him carry this with me. 

I can’t make him wait while I… while I die.

The thought of Sangwon waiting for him, holding onto the hope that Leo would finally choose them, was unbearable. Every fiber of his being screamed that Sangwon deserved more — deserved someone whole, someone who could love him without fear or limits.

Not me.

A sob broke from his throat, muffled against his knees. He had been pretending for months, masking the fatigue, the bruises, the thinning hair, the weakness. He had smiled, cooked, cuddled, laughed. He had tried to be Leo — the Leo Sangwon knew and loved.

But it was slipping.

It was slipping faster than he could hold it back.

He pressed his forehead to his knees, willing the tears to stop, but they only fell faster. 

He imagined Sangwon sitting on the other side of the door, curled into the bed, his hands pressed to his mouth as he tried to fight back his own tears. Leo’s chest ached at the thought, guilt and love smashing together until it was unbearable.

He wanted to reach out, to hold him, to tell him he loved him more than life itself — but the words lodged in his throat. The truth of his illness, the shadow of what was coming, made it impossible.

He couldn’t bear to see Sangwon’s eyes haunted by him.

So he stayed there, on the floor, silent and shaking, imagining the future he would never live to see. Imagining a life with Sangwon that he could never give him.

He pressed his palms harder against his eyes, trying to erase the image of Sangwon’s hurt, trying to erase the sound of his voice, but it only echoed louder in the silence.

And in the quiet apartment, Leo finally let himself break.

—

Leo left.

He left for a week and crashed at Geonwoo and Xinlong’s new place. 

Call him a coward for running away, but he felt like he was closer to dying from a heartbreak than cancer.

Sangwon didn’t try to contact him, and Leo didn’t try to contact Sangwon.

Geonwoo and Xinlong knew right away what was wrong when they opened their front door to reveal a shaking, sobbing Leo. They gathered him into their arms, coaxing him onto the coach with such gentleness.

“Junseo Hyung is with Sangwon now,” Geonwoo said as he returned from the kitchen with a warm glass of water.

He wanted to thank the younger one for checking up on Sangwon, but he couldn’t find the energy to say anything.

“Hyung,” Xinlong murmured carefully, leaning close. Leo turned his head, eyes tracing Xinlong’s worried expression before flicking to Geonwoo, who stood stiff near the couch, holding himself as if afraid to breathe too loudly.

“You’re getting really skinny, Hyung,” Xinlong said quietly.

Leo sucked in a short breath, eyes tracing Xinlong’s features then he turned to Geonwoo who looked like he was holding his breath, standing stiff as a stick near the couch.

He pulled back, leaning tiredly against the arm of the couch. Leave it to the pre-med student to notice everything before he even said a word.

“Yeah… I am,” Leo rasped.

“I’m worried,” Xinlong spoke barely above a whisper.

“I’m…”

He’s what? Struggling? Scared? Dying? He couldn't find the right words.

“Hyung, are you sick?” Geonwoo asked from behind, voice fragile and shaky.

Leo didn’t answer, confirming what they already suspected.

“My mom had similar symptoms,” Geonwoo said as he placed down the cup of water, sitting on the armchair. 

“I meant to tell you guys,” Leo croaked, licking his chapped lips.

“Hyung, it’s okay,” Xinlong reassured, placing a warm hand on his cold ones.

“I fucked up,” Leo confessed. “Sangwon-ie hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Hyung. Never. I don’t think that’s in his program,” Geonwoo cracked a smile.

Leo tried to smile. He couldn’t.

“Just — just go at your own pace, Hyung,”  Geonwoo swallowed dryly. “My mom didn’t get that option, and some days I wish she did, just to give her some peace of mind. She always worried about us after she told us about her illness.”

Leo fiddled with his fingers.

“Can I ask you guys for a favor?” He felt so small, so timid.

The couple leaned in close. “Anything, Hyung.”

He smiled shakily.

—

They somehow made up. 

A week later, their friends set them up and ambushed them, leaving the two of them alone to talk things out.

Leo still found himself holding back the truth about his illness, but this time he had worked through some of the chaos of his emotions with Xinlong and Geonwoo. Despite being analytical and logic-driven, the couple had a way of gently walking him through his feelings, helping him untangle the knots in his chest without judgment.

“Sangwon,” Leo greeted awkwardly, pulling his cap lower. It felt awkward greeting the younger by his name — for so long it’s been a nickname of some sort.

“It’s fine, Hyung. You can call me Won,” Sangwon said gently, lips curling up but not quite meeting his eyes.

“Won,” Leo breathed, letting the word roll over him like a soft exhale, a hint of relief threading through the tension in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Sangwon started, voice hesitant, unsure.

“What — ?” Leo asked, startled. He should be the one apologizing. He should have been the one crumbling.

Sangwon held a hand up. “Shh, let me talk, Hyung.”

“I’m sorry for how I reacted. I — I didn’t think before I spoke, and I know I really hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to hurt you in any way, shape or form — never,” Sangwon’s voice cracked, thick with emotion. 

He shook his head, almost violently, as if trying to physically rid himself of the guilt and confusion. 

“I was just hurt. I know you tend to hide your feelings, but I’ve never seen you like that before, and I just… I don’t know… I didn’t know how to react. I’m sorry, Hyung.” 

He hung his head low, blond bangs falling like a curtain across his face, shielding him from the world while simultaneously making him look impossibly fragile.

“I’m sorry too, Won.” Leo cleared his throat, steadying himself. “I haven’t been honest about how I’ve been feeling lately, and I started bottling everything up until it exploded in our faces. Yes, the things you said hurt, but I also know that you were hurting when you said those things.” 

He reached out instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair from Sangwon’s face, lingering a moment longer than he had intended.

“Won, never in my life would I choose my career or anything else over you,” Leo continued, voice trembling despite his effort to sound steady. “I swear on everything. Everything I’ve done has been for you — will always be for you. I know you’ve been waiting for us — for me — and I’m sorry. I hope that you can be more patient with me while I figure everything out for myself.”

A year ago, Leo might have broken down completely while saying these words. But now, the weight of time, of illness, and of facing mortality had made him resilient in a way he never expected. He had plans, songs, writings — all the little things that tethered him to life. And somehow, speaking the truth of his heart, even without the full truth of his disease, was helping him come to terms with things he hadn’t wanted to face.

Sangwon frowned, a small pout forming at the corners of his lips, and Leo felt the familiar flutter of anticipation. He knew exactly what was coming.

“Hyung,” Sangwon whined, his voice breaking as he let out a loud, shuddering sob, throwing his head back so that his tears fell freely, unabashed, in the middle of the restaurant.

Leo’s chest tightened. He wanted to scoop him up, to shield him from the world and from all the heartbreak he felt he had caused. He bit back a smile, helpless at how utterly adorable and human Sangwon looked in this moment, so raw and unguarded.

“Oh, Won,” he cooed softly, lowering his hands to cradle the younger’s face gently, thumbs brushing warm tears from his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

But Sangwon’s crying only grew louder, more desperate, each sob punctuating the silence around them. And as he let it all out, as the world seemed to narrow to the two of them, Leo realized that despite the pain, despite the guilt, this — thiss feeling of closeness, of love and heartbreak intertwined — was infinitely precious.

Even if the world was ending around them, even if time wasn’t on their side, they still had this moment.

And Leo clung to it, just as tightly as he had clung to Sangwon in his arms.

—

After that night, things returned to a fragile normal. 

Leo and Sangwon had spoken, laughed, even teased each other like they always had — but underneath it all, a quiet tension lingered neither could quite shake. Leo’s secret sat heavy in his chest, a silent pulse of fear that threatened to spill out every time he looked at Sangwon.

So he started leaving small things for him. Notes slipped into the pages of books Sangwon was reading, little post-its on his laptop — don’t forget lunch, or you looked really nice today. Nothing heavy, nothing that could give away the truth.

Sangwon, in his usual perceptive way, noticed them. He smiled at the notes, tucked them into his pocket, showed them to friends, but never once asked why. And that made Leo ache all the more. 

Every glance Sangwon shot him, every smile, every laugh — it was all so ordinary, so full of life, and Leo was… fading.

He started pacing more at night, walking the apartment when he thought Sangwon was asleep, touching the furniture as if to memorize the weight of everything, the smell of every corner.

One evening, Sangwon returned home after a long day at work, a stack of papers in his hands and a bright smile that lit up the apartment despite the fading sunlight.

“Hyung! Look!” Sangwon exclaimed, tossing the papers onto the kitchen counter. “I got approved for the budget increase! The kids can get two extra field trips this year!”

Leo tried to meet his gaze, to share the excitement — but his body was heavy, drained from the day’s treatment. He managed a small smile, nodding as he poured Sangwon a glass of water.

“That’s amazing, Won,” he said softly. “I’m proud of you.”

Sangwon beamed and leaned over, nudging his shoulder. “I can’t wait to show you pictures of the recital they had. You have to see it, Hyung.”

Leo swallowed hard, the words he wanted to say catching in his throat. 

I’m proud of you, and I love you more than anything, but I can’t promise tomorrow. I can’t promise next week.

Instead, he nodded again. “I’ll see it. I can’t wait.”

Days turned into weeks, and Leo continued his routine — careful smiles, gentle touches, and hidden notes. Sometimes he’d leave a small breakfast on the counter, sometimes a favorite snack in Sangwon’s bag for work. Each act was a quiet declaration, a promise he could safely keep.

But the distance between them, though invisible, grew heavier. Every time Sangwon mentioned the future, every time he talked about adopting a cat or planning vacations or even buying a couch for the living room, Leo’s chest tightened, and he felt his own heartbeat pound against the truth he could not voice.

One night, as Sangwon slept beside him, head resting on his shoulder, Leo’s hand drifted over the younger’s back, tracing the curve lightly. The warmth, the life pulsing under his fingers, felt unbearably precious.

“Won,” he whispered into the quiet room, so soft he wasn’t sure if Sangwon even heard. “I wish I could… I wish I could tell you everything.”

No answer came, just the gentle rise and fall of Sangwon’s chest. 

Leo pressed a kiss to the top of his head, willing himself to memorize this moment, the weight of it, the smell of his hair, the steady warmth that made his chest ache.

He thought about the future again — briefly, painfully — but shook the thought away. He couldn’t bring himself to plan for what he knew he wouldn’t survive. All he could do was keep the present safe, keep Sangwon alive in his arms, and hide the inevitable heartbreak for as long as he could.

And so Leo continued — watching, waiting, loving in silence, cherishing every ordinary, fleeting moment, knowing that each smile, each laugh, each touch was both a balm and a torment.

He was protecting Sangwon, yes. But in doing so, he was slowly building walls between them, walls Sangwon could not see, walls that would only make the eventual fall that much more devastating.

—

Sangwon slammed his phone down onto the counter with a grunt, muttering curse words under his breath.

Leo stared at him wide-eyed. “I thought you were just talking to your mom?” He was treading the water carefully, scared to trigger an upset Sangwon.

“I was,” he hissed. He let out a frustrated scream, and gripped his hair. “She won’t leave me alone. I just graduated not even a whole year ago.”

“What did she say?” Leo asked slowly.

Sangwon looked at him then at the table, hesitation written all over his face. “She —” He sighed “She keeps saying that I can’t live like this forever.”

“Like what?”

“Single.”

Leo swallowed, nodding slightly, trying not to betray the storm brewing inside him. “It’s not that big of a deal, Hyung. She knows about us, she knows how I feel. Sometimes she just gets a little worried — that’s all.”

Sangwon’s words didn’t fully land. Leo could feel the weight pressing down, the subtle panic in the younger’s chest.

Sangwon’s mother had always been traditional, insisting that her children marry early and start families as soon as possible. At first, she’d liked Leo — dotting, concerned, protective. But over the years, her patience had waned. With Sangwon still single and no “progress” in sight, her tone had shifted from playful concern to pointed expectation.

Sangwon noticed the look on Leo’s face and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, Hyung. She’s all bark, no bite”

Leo nodded, but his smile felt brittle, like it could shatter at any second. He forced himself to scroll through his phone, pretending to be absorbed in something mundane. Every glance at Sangwon, though, reminded him of how little time he might have, and how much he couldn’t say.

“You know,” Sangwon muttered, leaning closer with a soft frown, “she just wants me to… settle down. I think she thinks I’m waiting for something — someone.”

Leo’s chest tightened. The word someone hit like a hammer. He wanted to shake Sangwon, to scream that he was right there, that he was always the someone. 

But he couldn’t. Couldn’t let Sangwon see the fear, the exhaustion, the truth.

“Yeah… I guess she’s worried,” Leo said quietly, voice catching slightly. He swallowed, willing his hands to stop trembling as he typed out a message with one finger. Anything to look normal, anything to act calm.

Sangwon’s gaze softened, but Leo could see the small crease forming between his brows. “Hyung… are you even listening?”

“I am,” Leo lied. His throat burned. “I’m just… tired, that’s all.”

Sangwon’s hand lingered a moment longer on his shoulder before dropping to rest near Leo’s. “You’ve been tired a lot lately.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “Is everything really okay?”

Leo swallowed hard. He wanted to nod, to say yes, but the lump in his throat made it impossible. He could feel the pull of Sangwon’s concern, gentle but insistent, and it hurt worse than any chemotherapy ever had.

“I’m fine,” he whispered finally, barely audible. “Just… work and stuff.”

Sangwon’s lips pressed together, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press further. Not yet. Instead, he leaned back, picking up his phone with a little sigh. “I just… I don’t like seeing you like this, Hyung. I don’t like it.”

Leo’s fingers tightened around his phone until the plastic creaked. He wanted to tell Sangwon everything. Wanted to pour out the fear, the weakness, the cruel certainty that he wouldn’t be around forever. 

But how could he? How could he make Sangwon carry that weight now, when he’d already been waiting so patiently, loving him through silence and half-truths?

So he smiled. A shaky, hollow smile. “I promise, Won… I’ll be fine.”

But as he said it, the lie felt heavier than ever.

Sangwon’s mother called again that evening. The phone rang through the apartment, and Leo felt a jolt of panic. Sangwon hesitated, then picked it up, smiling politely as he spoke.

Leo watched from the couch, heart hammering, as Sangwon’s words drifted through the room. His mother’s voice was light, but firm, insisting he settle down, asking about plans, mentioning dates and proposals.

Leo’s hands shook. He wanted to scream into the phone that Sangwon didn’t need anyone else, that he was already here, that he loved him more than life itself. But he didn’t. Couldn’t.

By the time Sangwon hung up, his cheeks were pink from talking and tension, and he sighed, flopping onto the couch beside Leo.

“You’re really worried about what she said, huh?” Leo asked quietly, voice raw.

Sangwon leaned his head on Leo’s shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe… a little. But not as much as you’re worried about me, Hyung.”

Leo’s throat closed. He wanted to hold Sangwon, to never let go, to tell him that everything he did, he did for him. But all he could manage was a soft, trembling arm around the younger, and a promise to stay. For now.

And somewhere deep inside, he swore he would do everything he could to keep that closeness, to make Sangwon happy, even as the shadows of the future crept closer every day.

—

“Hyung, what do you miss most about home?” Sangwon asked, his fingers gently running through Leo’s hair as the older male rested his head in the younger’s lap. The soft glow of the TV lit their faces, a sappy rom-com playing quietly in the background. Lights dim, curtains drawn.

“Not much,” Leo replied lazily, eyes half-closed. “I guess… when you leave for work.”

“No, Hyung. I mean home home — Sydney home.”

Leo puckered his lips, distracted by the flickering images on the screen. “You are my home,” he muttered under his breath. The rustle of fabric against skin told him Sangwon had heard, and the tiniest smile tugged at the corner of the younger’s lips.

Sangwon hummed, nudging Leo gently with his knee.

“I miss my mom,” Leo admitted after a beat, voice soft. “We call often, but… it’s not the same. I can’t ever say everything I want to over the phone. The words never come out right.”

“That’s a given,” Sangwon murmured, squeezing his hand lightly.

“I miss my house,” Leo continued, shifting slightly to look at him. “There was this creek I’d sit by a lot. Not anything special, really, just a place to think. When I was younger… that’s where I cried — when my parents divorced, when my sister and I fought, when I felt like I wasn’t making my mom proud. And it’s also where I made up my mind to move to Seoul.”

“Must be a very special place then,” Sangwon whispered, fingers still tracing his skin.

Leo nodded. “When we go visit, I want to take you there. I want you to meet my mom, of course, but I also want you to feel it — the breeze, the bare, open air. Australia’s… different. There’s nothing like it here in Seoul.”

“You gonna take me someday then?” Sangwon teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes despite the soft quiet of the room.

Leo paused, thinking carefully before he spoke, as though each word needed to weigh less heavily than the truth he carried inside. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I want to.”

A brief pause, then Leo shifted his gaze up to the younger.

Sangwon looked at him gently, urging him to go on.

“Won,” Leo said softly.

“Hm?”

Don’t give in to your mom.

“Are you going to say yes to your mom?”

“Of course not,” Sangwon replied immediately, eyes never leaving his.

“Why not?”

Sangwon’s gaze softened, a knowing warmth settling between them. “You know why,” he said simply, a small smile brushing his lips.

“… yeah, I do,” Leo whispered back, a quiet weight lifting just a little from his chest, though he didn’t know if it was courage, relief, or the ache of knowing the future was still uncertain. 

YEAR THREE - HALF-SET TABLE

Sangwon’s mother was more persistent than Leo thought. Even after months of Sangwon ignoring her calls and consistently telling her to stop bringing up the topic of marriage, she still somehow found a way to circle back to it. It was as if the word lived permanently on the tip of her tongue, waiting for the smallest opening.

At the same time, Leo’s health was worsening.

His visits to the clinic became more frequent, and each insertion of medication was stronger than the last. The treatments no longer felt like something temporary — they felt like a routine he couldn’t escape. He stopped working in person altogether, requesting to work from home and allowing his coworkers to take over his studio while he stayed behind in the quiet of their apartment.

Due to the changes in his treatment, his weight loss finally plateaued, and he even managed to gain back a pound or two. His face looked a little fuller again, enough to fool strangers. Enough to fool Sangwon, most days.

Sangwon adored his job as a kindergarten teacher, describing it as nothing but rainbows and sunshine. He came home smelling faintly of crayons and disinfectant wipes, telling stories about kids who cried over broken pencils and ones who proudly showed him crooked drawings.

He absolutely adored them.

Things were okay for a while. 

They fell into a routine once Sangwon began working full time and Leo stayed home. Sangwon always insisted on cooking, even after long days at work, because the one time Leo tried to make dinner, Sangwon got upset and refused to speak to him for hours before finally admitting that he liked cooking for them. That it made him feel useful. That it made him feel like he was taking care of Leo.

So, to avoid upsetting him again, Leo let Sangwon handle the cooking.

They ate dinner together, watched films together, and when Sangwon crafted lesson plans or read his book at the dining table, Leo worked quietly on his music in his bedroom. Sometimes they didn’t talk at all — just existed in the same space, sharing the air between them.

His fingers were slower now. His memory slipped at the edges. Sometimes he forgot what chord he had just played, or what lyric he meant to write. But it was still okay enough for him to create, and he clung to that as if it were proof he was still himself.

One day, Sangwon’s mother dropped by unannounced.

Sangwon still had four hours left on his shift, and Leo had just finished eating the lunch Sangwon had prepared for him the night before — neatly packed, labeled, and left in the fridge with a sticky note telling him to eat properly.

“Mrs. Lee,” Leo greeted in shock upon opening the door. “Um, please, come in,” Leo opened the door wider, gesturing to her to come inside.

“Hello, Leo,” she replied.

She slipped out of her flats neatly, tucking them against the wall with the toes facing outward — a small, familiar gesture that reminded him painfully of Sangwon.

“What brings you here?” Leo asked, already moving toward the kitchen. His hands worked automatically, reaching for Sangwon’s favorite tea.

“I was in the area, thought I could drop by for a few minutes.” She slid onto the island stool. 

Her hair was slicked back into a deep black bun, a casual outfit from her outing, sunglasses perched on top of her head.

“Oh, well Sangwon-ie won’t be home till a few more hours. I could —”

“I’m not here to speak with my son,” she cut him off, accepting the tea as he slid it over to her.

“Oh,” Leo muttered.

A pit formed in his stomach, he could tell exactly where this was going.

“I came here to talk to you, Leo.” She took a sip of the tea, a gentle smile gracing her face from the familiarity of it. “And I’m assuming you know what I want to talk about.”

Leo tried to hide his frown. “Yes, ma’am.”

She sighed, setting her tea cup down with a clink. “Leo, you know I’ve always looked after you like a son. The girls and my husband adore you deeply as well, and we had been hoping for quite a long time now that the two of you would become official sooner or later.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Leo murmured. He wanted to explain himself, but how could he? Tell her he was dying? That all the years his son has spent with him was a waste?

“My son believes you only need time,” she continued. “But he has been saying that since university.” She sighed. “I’m starting to think the time he’s giving you will never be enough, will it?”

She looked at him with the same doe eyes her son carried — full of hope, wonder. 

Leo hesitantly shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

Her eyelids lowered as she processed his answer.

“Whatever it is that’s holding you back,” she said, “please don’t let it stop my son from living his life. He deserves to be loved properly. You know that better than anyone.”

Leo bowed his head, gripping the marble edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles turned pale.

“I won’t question you,” she continued, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I won’t pretend I’m not worried either.” She stood slowly. 

“If you truly love my son, then please… don’t hold him back.”

And for the first time, Leo wondered if loving Sangwon meant letting him go.

—

Sangwon sat on the couch clipping his nails, phone on full blast next to him as he chatted away with Anxin.

Leo stood at the end of the hallway frozen in time, listening in on their conversation.

“I guess I’d want to stay in Seoul,” Sangwon said. “It’s close to family. Familiar.”

“But Hyung, don’t you want to try living in other cities?”

Sangwon pursed his lips. “Maybe when I’m young, but after marriage? I think I’d rather settle down somewhere.”

“I guess you’re right,” Anxin muttered over the phone. “I heard Junseo and Hao Hyung were thinking of moving.”

“What?” Sangwon paused. “Where?”

“Back to Hao Hyung’s hometown, but I think it was just something small that came up.”

“Hometown,” Sangwon muttered under his breath. He set the clippers down, staring down at his nails in thought.

After a while he added, “I don’t know… of course I’d take my partner’s opinions into account too.”

“And if they want to move to a whole different country?” Anxin asked.

“Then we move,” Sangwon said as simple as that with a shrug.

Some shuffling was heard over the phone before Anxin sighed. “Australia’s pretty different compared to Korea.”

“Who said anything about Australia,” Sangwon said, rolling his eyes.

“You didn’t need to say anything.” Anxin laughed, high and loud.

Leo stepped away, scurrying back into the comfort of his bedroom, making sure to shut the door quietly enough.

Settling down?

The words echoed in Leo’s head long after the phone call ended.

He stayed pressed against his bedroom door, hand still hovering near the knob as Sangwon’s laughter drifted faintly from the living room. The sound was warm. The kind of sound that used to make him smile without thinking.

Now it made his chest ache.

Sangwon talked about marriage so easily. About staying in Seoul. About moving if his partner wanted to. About shaping his life around someone else’s future as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Leo slid down against the door until he was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest.

He had never asked Sangwon what he wanted his life to look like beyond them. Because every time the future came up, Leo felt like he was staring at something he wasn’t allowed to touch.

Sangwon wanted stability. A place to settle into and grow old inside of. Maybe children someday. A partner who could stand next to him in family photos without looking like a temporary guest.

And Leo…

Leo couldn’t even promise he’d still be here next year.

The apartment was quiet for a while after the call ended. Leo heard Sangwon move around, the soft thud of the nail clippers being set down, the shuffle of slippers against the floor.

“Hyung?” Sangwon called out.

Leo didn’t answer.

Not because he didn’t want to — but because his throat felt sealed shut.

“Hyung?” Sangwon’s footsteps approached. A knock came at the door, gentle. “Are you napping?”

“…Yeah,” Leo lied, voice muffled.

“Oh.” Sangwon hesitated. “I was gonna make tea.”

“I’ll drink it later,” Leo said quickly. Too quickly.

Another pause.

“Okay,” Sangwon replied softly.

Leo waited until he heard Sangwon retreat before letting out the breath he’d been holding.

He stared at the opposite wall, eyes unfocused.

Marriage.

Settling down.

Moving for a partner.

Sangwon had said it so simply. Like love was something that lasted by default.

Leo pressed his palm over his sternum.

He had spent years loving Sangwon in fragments — between treatments, between naps, between hospital visits, between lies. He had given Sangwon affection without commitment, closeness without certainty. A relationship that existed in everything but name.

And Sangwon had waited.

Waited through university.

Waited through Leo’s silence.

Waited through his fear of the future.

Waited through illness he didn’t even know about.

How long was too long to ask someone to wait?

Leo stood slowly, legs trembling as he crossed the room. He opened his closet and stared at the back corner where a small black box sat untouched.

The bracelet.

Still there. Still hidden. Still useless.

He shut the closet door gently, like closing a coffin.

That night, Sangwon cooked dinner like usual. Fried rice with too much sesame oil, just the way Leo liked it.

They sat together at the small table, knees brushing. Sangwon talked about one of his students who had cried all day because their shoelace broke. Leo laughed at the right parts, nodded when he should, but his mind was somewhere else.

“Hyung,” Sangwon said suddenly, pausing mid-bite.

“Hm?”

“You’re spacing out again.”

“Sorry,” Leo muttered. “Just tired.”

Sangwon studied him. “You’ve been tired a lot.”

Leo forced a small smile. “Comes with the job.”

Sangwon didn’t look convinced.

Later, they lay on the couch like they always did, Sangwon’s head on Leo’s chest, Leo’s fingers idly tracing circles on his arm.

“Anxin asked me something weird today,” Sangwon said.

Leo stiffened. “Oh?”

“He asked where I’d want to live after marriage.”

Leo’s breath hitched just barely.

“And?”

“I said probably Seoul,” Sangwon continued. “Unless my partner wanted something else.”

Leo closed his eyes.

“You’d move for them?” Leo asked carefully.

“Of course,” Sangwon said. “Isn’t that normal?”

“What if… your partner couldn’t?” Leo whispered.

Sangwon tilted his head up to look at him. “Couldn’t what?”

“Couldn’t… give you that future.”

Sangwon frowned. “Hyung, what are you talking about?”

Leo swallowed. “I mean… what if they didn’t know how long they’d be around?”

Sangwon went still.

“Are you trying to say something?” he asked quietly.

Leo looked at the ceiling. The answer burned behind his teeth.

Instead, he said, “I just think… you deserve someone who can plan with you.”

Sangwon pushed himself upright. “Why are you saying this like you’re not included?”

Leo didn’t answer. Silence filled the space between them, thick and heavy.

“Hyung,” Sangwon said, voice soft but sharp at the edges, “don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk like you’re already gone.”

Leo’s chest tightened.

“I’m not,” he said quickly.

“Then stop acting like it,” Sangwon whispered.

Leo turned his head away.

That night, he couldn’t sleep.

By morning, the thought had rooted itself firmly in his chest.

If he loved Sangwon… He couldn’t be the reason Sangwon never settled down. He couldn’t be the reason Sangwon stayed waiting. He couldn’t be the reason Sangwon shaped his future around someone who might not be there to live in it.

And for the first time, Leo understood something clearly — Letting Sangwon go would hurt.

But keeping him would be cruel.

—

A week later, Leo was resting on the couch after a long day of treatment. 

He had brought his laptop with him in hopes of getting some work done, but in the end he could only shut his eyes and numbly accept the pain.

His bones ached, limbs felt heavy. Every movement made his skin feel taut and took so much energy from him. His beanie was pulled low on his head, three layers of shirts and sweaters barely kept him warm as he tried his best to just rest.

Sangwon returned home on the phone with his mother. Nowadays, it seemed as if the younger had a permanent frown on his face every time he talked to his mother. 

“Mom, please,” he sighed tiredly as he shuffled his shoes off, placing them neatly against the wall. “You know my answer is always going to be no, so can please start talking about other things.”

Sangwon had barely made it a few steps from the entryway. His work bag hung heavily on one shoulder, resting on a sky blue sweater and beige slacks. He pressed a hand against his brows, breathing out slowly as — what Leo could only assume was — his mother continuing her scolding.  

Leo shuffled slightly, catching the younger’s attention. Sangwon’s eyes curled upwards upon falling on him before pointing as the phone pressed against his ear with a roll of his eyes.

Leo gave him a small reassuring smile. 

Sangwon shuffled towards his bedroom and later reemerged still on the phone, but now dressed in his usual lounging attire.

“Mom, I need to go,” he muttered. A pause. “Yes, I’ll call you again tomorrow… no I’m not lying this time… okay, bye… love you too.”

Sangwon sagged against the kitchen counter, closing his eyes as if he had just returned from running a marathon. 

“Same old, same old?” Leo asked from the couch, still in the same position he was in before Sangwon came home from work.

“When is it not,” Sangwon grumbled, annoyed. 

A suffocating silence passed.

“You hungry? I think I’ll get started on dinner early tonight,” Sangwon said as he stood in front of the opened fridge, lips pursed as he pondered on what to cook up tonight.

Leo shrugged even though he was out of his line of sight.

“I’m feeling some… soup,” Sangwon chirped, pulling out ingredients.

“We’ve had soup almost every day for the past month,” Leo groaned from the couch. Not that he really could complain. It was one of the only things he could digest properly nowadays.

Sangwon pouted. “I like soup.”

Leo chuckled, easily giving in. “Okay, okay. I never said I wouldn’t eat it.”

So Sangwon got started on dinner in silence, as Leo remained rooted on the couch — head slightly propped, arms resting on his torso. He watched as Sangwon rummaged around the kitchen with his eyebrows cutely furrowed. He watched as Sangwon hummed a soft song under his breath while chopping vegetables. He watched as Sangwon paused during each step, lost in thought as he tried to recall the steps.

Leo loved watching Sangwon. He liked to believe that it would help him remember the younger in the afterlife. 

And when dinner was set out in front of them, big bowls of steaming white rice and side dishes galore, Leo’s stomach knotted tightly at how domestic Sangwon looked in front of him.

The thought of their future flew across his mind again, pushing down what little appetite he had remaining.

“Do you not like it?” Sangwon asked from across the table, eyes wide and soft.

“No, no. I do,” Leo said hurriedly, picking up his utensil. “Thank you for the meal, Won-ie.”

Sangwon nodded, but he didn’t seem fully convinced.

“You know… you can just tell me if you don’t want soup.”

“It’s not the soup.”

“Then it is something.”

“Won…” Leo pushed his bowl further away from himself, the smell of food nauseating him. “Maybe it’s better if you… move on. You deserve someone with a future.”

He said it. Simple as that.

He wished he could say a weight was lifted off his chest, but at the sight of Sangwon’s entire face falling — Leo started second guessing everything. Sangwon’s bright beautiful eyes filled with sadness, his lips pulled down.

“I — Why would you say that?” Sangwon croaked.

Leo didn’t know how to answer.

“We talked about this. I’m fine with waiting,” Sangwon jabbed a finger against his chest, nostrils flaring. 

Leo swallowed thickly. His hands rested uselessly in his lap, fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater.

“But I’m not,” Leo whispered.

Sangwon froze. “What?”

“I’m not fine with it anymore,” Leo repeated, voice steadier this time. “I don’t like watching you build a future around me when I don’t even know if I can stand in it with you.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” Sangwon shot back. He stood abruptly, chair legs screeching softly against the floor. “You don’t get to decide when I give up on you.”

“I’m not asking you to give up on me,” Leo said, eyes burning. “I’m asking you to choose yourself.”

“That is choosing you,” Sangwon said sharply. “I chose you years ago.”

Leo’s chest tightened.

“You chose someone you thought would be here,” he murmured. “You chose someone who could go to Australia with you, who could meet your mom properly, who could —”

“Don’t,” Sangwon snapped. “Don’t turn this into something ugly.”

“It already is,” Leo said softly. “Your mom’s right.”

Sangwon stared at him. “What?”

“She’s right,” Leo continued. “You can’t live like this forever. Waiting. Hoping. Holding space for someone who keeps pushing things off.”

“Don’t use her against me,” Sangwon whispered, voice shaking. “She doesn’t know us.”

“She knows you,” Leo said. “And she’s worried. And she’s not wrong.”

Sangwon shook his head, stepping back from the table. “So this is what this is about? My mom finally got to you?”

“No,” Leo said quickly. “This is about me finally seeing you.”

Sangwon laughed once, hollow. “You see me just fine when it’s comfortable.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Sangwon asked. “You let me love you, but the second it starts to look like something permanent, you want me to leave.”

Leo pushed himself to his feet, legs unsteady. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you to live.”

“Then let me live with you.”

“I can’t promise you that,” Leo said.

Sangwon’s jaw clenched. “You never even gave me the choice.”

Silence fell between them, heavy and sharp.

Leo looked down at the table — the untouched soup, the steam slowly fading, the rice growing cold.

“You talk about marriage,” Leo said quietly. “About settling down. About moving for your partner. You talk like you have decades.”

Sangwon’s voice dropped. “Well don’t we?.”

Leo closed his eyes.

“I don’t want to be the reason you don’t have that,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you stayed too long.”

“I won’t,” Sangwon said immediately. “I’d rather stay and lose you than leave you on purpose.”

Leo looked at him then — really looked.

His shoulders were tense. His eyes were glassy. His hands were shaking just slightly at his sides.

“You shouldn’t have to make that choice,” Leo said.

“Why do you get to decide what hurts me?” Sangwon asked, tears finally spilling. “Why do you get to decide when I stop loving you?”

Leo stepped forward, then stopped himself.

“Because I love you,” he said. “And loving you like this feels selfish.”

Sangwon laughed bitterly. “So you want me to date someone else?”

Leo didn’t answer right away.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I think you should try.”

The words landed like a slap.

Sangwon stared at him. “You want me to go out with someone else.”

“I want you to see what it feels like to be chosen without conditions,” Leo said. “To be with someone who isn’t afraid of the future.”

Sangwon’s voice broke. “You are the future I wanted.”

Leo felt something tear inside him.

“I know,” he whispered.

Sangwon turned away, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his sweater. “My mom’s been trying to set me up with someone from church,” he muttered. “Some guy she keeps saying is ‘nice’ and ‘stable.’”

Leo’s stomach twisted.

“She showed me his picture last week,” Sangwon added quietly.

Leo said nothing.

“She’s been asking me to meet him,” Sangwon continued. “I kept saying no.”

Another pause.

“She asked again today.”

Leo’s hands clenched.

“And?” he asked.

Sangwon looked back at him, eyes red. “You want me to say yes.”

Leo nodded once.

“I don’t want to,” Sangwon whispered.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to sit across from someone and pretend I don’t love you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to come home and feel guilty.”

“I know,” Leo repeated.

Sangwon let out a shaky breath. “Then why are you doing this?”

“Because if I don’t,” Leo said, voice cracking, “I’m going to keep letting you build your life around someone who can’t promise you anything.”

Sangwon stared at him for a long moment.

“…One date,” he said finally.

Leo’s breath hitched.

“One,” Sangwon repeated. “I’ll go once. And then I’m done. I’m not promising anything else.”

Leo nodded slowly. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Sangwon turned back to the table and stared at the soup. “You ruined dinner.”

Leo almost smiled.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Sangwon muttered. “You should be.”

They sat down again in silence, bowls untouched.

The soup went cold between them.

YEAR FOUR - TABLE FOR ONE

“Hyung, you didn’t have to walk me all the way here,” Sangwon rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on his bag strap.

“Yes I did,” Leo flicked his forehead gently. “Who else was going to make sure you get to your date on time?”

Sangwon jutted his bottom lip out, but remained silent, turning his attention back to the front as they made their way to the restaurant.

Even though Sangwon had come home that first night insisting it wouldn’t happen again, somehow his mother — and Leo — had convinced him otherwise. A second date became a third. A third became a fourth.

In between each one, Sangwon cried.

He cried in Leo’s arms, begged him to take it back, to stop pushing him away from the life they had planned together. He got angry. He sulked. He shut down. But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

Leo wasn’t sure when it happened — only that it had.

He couldn’t say he was happy about it. That was the selfish part of him, the part that still wanted to keep Sangwon tucked safely at his side. But how could he call it wrong when Sangwon came home with flowers, with shy smiles, with stories about someone who listened and laughed and waited for him at restaurant tables?

“I like him,” Leo said suddenly.

Sangwon hummed. “Is that so?”

Leo nodded. “He treats you well, he’s stable, he’s kind — what more can I ask for?”

Sangwon shook his head, grip on his bag tightening. “It hasn’t even been that long since we started dating.”

Leo threw him an odd look. “Half a year is a lot, Won-ie.”

“We’ve known each other longer.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Leo sighed, stuffing his cold hands into his pockets.

Luckily, before Sangwon could retort, they arrived a few feet in front of the restaurant. From the window, they could see the outline of Sangwon’s date waiting on his phone with a large bouquet tucked against him.

“Let me know if you need me to pick you up, alright?” Leo ruffled a hand on Sangwon’s head.

“Hyung!” Sangwon whined, swatting his hand away. “I just did my hair.”

Leo chuckled softly. “You’re beautiful either way, Won-ie. Now go on, don’t keep him waiting.” Leo ushered him forward.

Sangwon took a hesitant step back, before smiling softly and turning around, rushing into the restaurant. Leo stared at his retreating form, a painful smile on his face and an aching heart, as if the younger was dragging it along with him. 

Leo blinked. A tear ran down his face. He clenched his jaw, craning his neck up to the sky to will the tears back down. “Please tell me I’m doing the right thing,” he whispered up to the night sky.

The sound of a car passing by broke him out of his trance, and he looked back at the entrance. The silhouette by the window now consisted of two embracing, before pulling away and the smaller one being given a bouquet. 

Leo turned on his heels, stumbling slightly when a sudden dizzy spell hit him. He caught himself on a nearby bench, before hauling himself back up and back home to their quiet apartment to wait for Sangwon.

—

“He got you this?” Leo asked as he lifted up a small red box. 

Sangwon nodded with a genuine smile. “It’s gorgeous, but I’m not sure if I should keep it or give it back to him.”

Leo opened it to reveal a beautiful pendant necklace. The chain was thin and dainty, but still stunning enough to sparkle under the light. 

“You should keep it,” Leo murmured. “I think you’d hurt his feelings if you tried to give it back.” 

He gently pulled the necklace from its casing, and brought it down over Sangwon’s head and laid it gently on his clavicle. He clipped the clasps together before gently turning him around to face him.

“Beautiful,” Leo murmured, eyes locked on Sangwon’s.

“Hyung,” Sangwon whispered, voice wavering. He reached a hand up to gently touch the cold pendant. “Are you sure?”

Leo stared. There was more behind those words than Sangwon was letting on, and he could tell. He wove hidden messages behind his words often these days, questioning Leo about his certainty and sanity.

“I’m,” Leo paused, licking his chapped lips. “I’m not — but don’t wait for me.”

“I’d wait for you for a lifetime, Hyung. You know that,” Sangwon’s voice cracked, eyes filling with tears.

Leo drew him into a hug, the pendant pressing against his chest and seeping a cool touch through his shirt. It burned more than it should have.

“Unfortunately,” Leo whispered, “forever isn’t something I can give you.”

—

“A trip?”

Sangwon nodded. “It’ll just be a week. Think you can live without me in the meantime?” He said teasingly, folding a basket of towels on the couch.

Leo was wrapped up in layers of blankets on the opposite end.

A plethora of questions ran through his mind.

Where? Will he be safe? Is it with him? 

When does he leave? Does he have enough PTO? What’s the occasion?

But he didn’t have the energy to ask, so he settled with, “okay, be safe.”

Sangwon paused mid-fold, eyes glued onto the egg white towel in his hands. 

“Of course, Hyung,” he murmured, before resuming his chore.

He managed a forced smile. Eyes strained, the corner of his lips not quite there. 

“Just don’t miss me too much, okay?”

Leo giggled into his blanket, feeling breathless just from the act. 

“Won, you know that’s impossible.”

—

Sangwon was an overpacker.

Leo would know. Whenever they traveled anywhere together in the past, being a light packer himself, Leo leached off the younger often. Somewhere along the way, I forgot had turned into Sangwon will have it.

“Are you sure you need all of this?” Leo asked for what felt like the tenth time. He sat on Sangwon’s bed, watching as the younger stuffed accessories into his already-bulging suitcase.

“Yes, I do,” Sangwon said simply. “You never know what you’ll need.”

“Your Uber gets here in—” Leo checked his phone. “Eight minutes. I think it’s time to surrender and zip everything up.”

Sangwon groaned but obeyed. He pressed a knee into the suitcase and strained until the zipper finally closed with a stubborn rasp.

He gathered the rest of his bags into one corner, then looped a thin silk scarf around his neck.

“That’s my scarf,” Leo said flatly.

“You don’t even wear it,” Sangwon shot back, sticking out his tongue. “I’ll bring it back. Promise.”

They wandered into the kitchen, where Sangwon began checking everything — fridge, counter, laundry —making sure Leo would be fed and clothed while he was gone. 

Leo had taken a seat on a stool. Everywhere he went now he had to sit, he couldn’t stand for long periods of time anymore, but being the homebody he was — it was easier to hide then he had expected. 

“Won, this is your third time checking everything.”

“I know, I can’t help it,” Sangwon whined. “I’m just worried.”

“I’ll be fine.”

The lie settled between them.

Not long after, the Uber notification chimed.

Sangwon dragged his suitcase to the door, then turned back with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You sure you can survive without me?”

Leo scoffed weakly. “It’s only a few days.”

Sangwon smiled. His face was bare, hair unstyled, dressed down in an oversized hoodie — and somehow he still looked just as beautiful as he did on the nights he dressed up for dinner dates.

Those dinners used to be only theirs.

They weren’t anymore.

Sangwon rocked on his heels, suddenly looking too small in the doorway.

 “Just… don’t burn the apartment down, alright?”

Leo let out a breathless chuckle, fighting back the urge to break down at the sight of Sangwon leaving him. He was only going to be gone for a few days, yet, Leo couldn’t seem to control his nose tingling and chest burning.

“No promises,” he barely managed to whisper it out.

Sangwon hesitated, then gave him one last reassuring look before hiking up his suitcase and heading toward the elevators. Halfway down the hall, he turned back and waved.

Leo lifted his hand and waved back, watching him grow smaller and smaller until he disappeared around the corner.

When the elevator dinged and the sound of rolling wheels faded away, Leo shut the door.

The apartment felt hollow already.

He leaned back against it and finally let out the breath he’d been holding.

Leo stayed by the door long after Sangwon disappeared down the hall.

The apartment felt too big now.

Too hollow.

He didn’t move at first. His hand still hovered near the doorknob, fingers curled like he might open it again and call Sangwon back — tell him he forgot something, tell him the trip could wait, tell him anything at all.

But the hallway stayed silent.

Slowly, Leo peeled himself away from the door and turned back inside.

The lights were still on in the kitchen. The scarf Sangwon had stolen lay draped over the back of a chair, forgotten in the rush. Leo crossed the room and lifted it carefully, pressing it to his face without thinking.

It still smelled like him.

Soap. Laundry detergent. Something warm and familiar.

“Idiot,” Leo muttered to himself, sinking down into the chair.

He let the scarf rest in his lap, fingers twisting into the fabric. His chest felt tight, like something was sitting on it — something heavy but gentle, refusing to move.

It had only been minutes.

Sangwon hadn’t even made it out of the building yet.

And still, the quiet already felt unbearable.

Leo leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The fan spun lazily above him, the same soft hum it always made. Outside, a car horn blared, distant and sharp, reminding him that life was still happening somewhere beyond these walls.

He tried to tell himself this was normal.

They’d been apart before. A week wasn’t forever.

Sangwon would be back soon, loud and bright and full of stories.

So why did it feel like something had already ended?

His gaze drifted to Sangwon’s room. The door was half-open, bed neatly made, suitcase gone. The space looked wrong without the mess of clothes and half-folded laundry.

Leo swallowed.

He pushed himself up and walked slowly toward it, pausing in the doorway. Everything was exactly where Sangwon had left it — his charger still plugged in, a hoodie tossed over the chair, a sticky note on the mirror that read — don’t skip meals.

Leo huffed a weak laugh. “I won’t,” he said aloud, though his voice sounded thin in the empty room.

He sat on the edge of the bed and rested his hands in his lap.

The loneliness crept in quietly.

Not like a wave.

More like fog.

It filled the space between furniture. It slipped into the corners of the room. It settled in his chest where Sangwon’s presence usually lived.

Leo closed his eyes.

Just a week, he told himself. Just a few days.

But the words felt fragile.

For the first time since encouraging Sangwon to go — to live, to love, to move forward — Leo let himself feel what he had been pushing down.

The fear.

The ache.

The awful thought that this might be the last time he ever watched Sangwon walk away.

His fingers tightened in the blanket on the bed.

“Come back safely,” he whispered to no one.

And in the quiet apartment, with Sangwon already gone and the door still warm from where he had leaned against it, Leo sat alone and let the loneliness finally reach him.

—

The apartment stayed quiet after Sangwon left.

Not peaceful.

Not calm.

Just… empty.

Leo shuffled to the couch with careful steps, each one measured like the floor might give out beneath him. He lowered himself down with a small grunt, tugging the blanket up to his chin.

The silence pressed in.

Normally, Sangwon filled it — humming while he cooked, talking to himself while he folded laundry, the soft tapping of his phone screen when he scrolled through messages beside him. Now there was only the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic far below.

Leo reached for his phone.

No new messages.

He turned it face down.

His chest hurt in a way that had nothing to do with the cancer.

The first night passed in a blur of half-sleep and shallow breathing. He woke up disoriented, tangled in blankets, sweat clinging to his skin despite the cold. His bones felt like glass — fragile and aching with every shift of his weight.

He tried to sit up.

The room tilted.

Leo braced a hand against the couch cushion, waiting for the dizziness to pass. When it didn’t, he laughed softly to himself.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he murmured to the empty room.

Getting to the kitchen took longer than it should have. He clung to the wall like it might abandon him otherwise. The soup Sangwon had made sat untouched in the fridge, neatly labeled with a sticky note.

Heat for two minutes. Don’t forget to eat.

Leo stared at the handwriting.

“I won’t,” he whispered, though there was no one to hear it.

He managed a few spoonfuls before nausea curled in his stomach. The smell alone made his throat tighten. He pushed the bowl away and rested his forehead against the table.

Breathing felt like work.

By the second day, he stopped opening his laptop.

The music stayed locked behind his temples — unfinished melodies he no longer had the strength to chase. His fingers trembled too badly to play. Even holding his phone made his wrist ache.

He tried to text Sangwon.

Did you land safely?

He stared at the message for a long time before deleting it.

Don’t distract him. Don’t make him worry. Don’t be selfish.

He spent most of the day asleep, waking only when pain dragged him back into consciousness. His mouth tasted like metal. His vision blurred at the edges.

At some point, he slid down from the couch onto the floor.

It was cooler there.

He lay on his side, curled around himself, staring at the leg of the coffee table. Dust clung to the underside. Sangwon would scold him for not cleaning properly.

The thought almost made him smile.

“Won…” he breathed, voice barely sound.

No answer.

He dreamed of the creek in Australia — sunlight through trees, water moving slow and patient. Sangwon stood on the bank, calling his name, but Leo couldn’t reach him. His legs wouldn’t move. The water kept rising.

When he woke, his pillow was damp.

By the third day, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

He knocked over a glass of water and didn’t have the energy to clean it up. The spill crept across the counter in a thin line before dripping onto the floor.

He watched it fall.

His chest tightened.

I should call someone, he thought.

Geonwoo. Xinlong. A doctor.

But his phone was on the other side of the room.

And Sangwon wasn’t here.

He dragged himself back onto the couch inch by inch, breath hitching with every movement. When he finally reached the cushions, he lay there, staring at the ceiling.

“I did the right thing,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or Sangwon.

“I didn’t hold you back.”

The apartment did not answer.

Only the quiet remained — thick and unmoving — as Leo closed his eyes and let himself sink back into sleep, weaker than the last time, waiting without realizing what he was waiting for.

—

Leo went in for treatment four days after Sangwon left.

He almost didn’t.

By the time he made it out of bed, his limbs felt like they were filled with wet sand. The walk from the bedroom to the bathroom had him gripping the wall, breathing through clenched teeth like he’d run miles instead of steps.

Still, he dressed — beanie, two sweaters, the scarf Sangwon forgot.

He told himself it was routine. Just another appointment.

The clinic smelled the same as always — antiseptic and recycled air. 

“Leo?” one of the nurses called.

He stood, but the room tilted.

“Whoa —” a hand caught his elbow.

“I’m fine,” he insisted automatically, even as his vision blurred at the edges.

They didn’t look convinced.

When they weighed him, the nurse’s smile faltered.

“That… doesn’t seem right,” she murmured, checking the screen again.

Leo sat on the bed in the small treatment room, feet dangling. His fingers wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Have you been eating?” she asked gently.

“Yeah,” he lied. Soup. Crackers. Sometimes.

Another nurse came in. Then another.

They took his blood pressure twice.

Then a third time.

“Leo,” one of them said quietly, crouching in front of him. “How long have you felt like this?”

“…a while.”

“How long is a while?”

He didn’t answer.

They started the IV anyway. The cold burn of it made him wince. He stared at the ceiling, counting the tiles like he always did.

One. Two. Three.

“Your numbers aren’t good today,” the nurse said carefully. “We don’t feel comfortable sending you home.”

Leo’s heart dropped.

“What?”

“You’re severely dehydrated, your white cell count is low, and your blood pressure keeps dipping. We need to admit you for observation.”

“I can go home,” he said quickly. “I’ll drink more water. I’ll eat. I just —”

“Leo.” Her voice softened. “Your body isn’t bouncing back like it used to.”

That was the first time anyone said it out loud.

He didn’t argue after that.

They wheeled him upstairs in a chair because his legs wouldn’t hold him anymore. The hallway lights streaked above him. Everything felt unreal, like he was watching someone else’s life through a screen.

He didn’t call anyone.

Not Sangwon. Not Geonwoo. Not Xinlong.

He told himself that it was temporary. That all he needed was just fluids and some rest. That he would be able to go home in no time and be there when Sangwon returned.

Hours passed.

Then a doctor came in, clipboard in hand, glasses nestled on her sharp nose. She looked tired too. Leo wondered how long she had been awake. Who else was she taking care of? Where there others dying like him? 

She sat instead of standing. That scared him. 

She had the same gentle smile as Sangwon — soft and comforting. Leo’s heart ached at the connection.

“Leo,” she said gently, folding her hands. “Your body is… struggling.”

He stared at the blanket pulled over his knees.

“The treatment has taken more from you than we anticipated,” she continued. “Your immune system is very weak. Your muscles are deteriorating. We’re seeing organ stress.”

“…so what does that mean?” he whispered.

“It means we need to keep you here. And it means… you need to prepare for the possibility that your body may not recover the way it used to.”

His ears rang.

Prepare.

For what?

He didn’t cry.

He just nodded.

After she left, a nurse came back in with fresh fluids and a worried expression.

“Is there anyone we can call for you?” she asked.

“I don’t want to bother anyone.”

“Leo,” she said softly, adjusting his blanket. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

He thought of Sangwon — on a trip, smiling, trying to live — he couldn’t.

“I can’t call him,” he murmured.

“Then call someone else,” she urged. “Please.”

His fingers shook as he reached for his phone.

He stared at the screen.

Won ❤️

Mom

Geonwoo

Xinlong

He hesitated… then tapped Geonwoo.

It rang once. Twice.

“Hyung?”

Leo swallowed. “Hey… Geonwoo.”

There was a pause. “Hyung, are you okay?”

“No,” he admitted quietly.

“What do you mean no?”

“I… I went in for treatment and they admitted me.”

“What?” Xinlong’s voice joined in, distant but sharp. “Why?”

“They said… my body’s not doing so good.”

Silence.

Then Geonwoo’s voice cracked. “Where are you?”

Leo told them.

“We’re coming,” Xinlong said immediately.

“You don’t have to —”

“We’re coming,” Geonwoo repeated, final with no room for arguement.

Leo closed his eyes, the weight of it finally sinking in.

“…don’t tell Sangwon,” he whispered.

There was a long pause on the other end.

“Hyung,” Xinlong said softly. “He’s going to know.”

“Not yet,” Leo pleaded. “Please. Let him finish his trip. Just… just for now.”

He turned his face toward the window, watching the city blur past in lights and motion.

“I don’t want to ruin it for him.”

And for the first time since Sangwon left, Leo felt truly afraid that he might never make it back to the apartment he’d waved goodbye from.

—

There was no knock or warning when Geonwoo and Xinlong arrived.

They burst through the door like a pair of wild tornadoes — eyes frantic, chests heaving, skin pale as paper.

Leo flinched awake from where he’d been resting his eyes. The nurses usually knocked.

“Oh… Hyung,” Xinlong croaked the moment he saw him.

He rushed forward and dropped to his knees beside the bed, hands clutching at the blanket like it was the only thing keeping Leo there.

“Hey,” Leo murmured weakly, blinking through the dryness in his eyes. “Don’t cry.”

He let out a small, breathless laugh. “I’m not dead… yet.”

Xinlong’s face crumpled instantly.

“That’s not funny,” he choked, voice breaking completely as he shoved his face into the pale sheets.

Leo winced, guilt flashing across his tired features. “Sorry,” he whispered.

He lifted a trembling hand and rested it on Xinlong’s head, fingers weak as they brushed through his hair. It was the best comfort he could manage.

Only then did he look past him.

Geonwoo stood frozen near the door, as if he hadn’t quite convinced himself this was real yet. His face was carefully blank, but his shoulders were too tight, his jaw clenched like it hurt.

“Hey, Woo,” Leo said softly.

He raised his free hand, fingers barely uncurling from his palm in a weak greeting.

That did it.

At the sound of his nickname, Geonwoo’s composure shattered. His face twisted before he could stop it, tears flooding his eyes as he sucked in a sharp breath. He turned his head away quickly, lifting a hand to cover his mouth as a quiet, broken sob slipped out.

Nothing like Xinlong’s raw crying — but for Geonwoo, it was everything.

Leo’s chest tightened painfully.

“Come on,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, though it trembled anyway. “You’re gonna make me cry too.”

Neither of them answered.

Xinlong clung to the bed like he was afraid Leo would vanish if he let go. Geonwoo stayed turned away, shoulders shaking, trying to hold himself together and failing anyway.

And in that small, too-quiet room filled with beeping machines and antiseptic air, Leo let them cry.

He let them grieve him while he was still there. Let them mourn what he had never given them time to prepare for.

For once, he didn’t pretend he was okay.

—

Nurses cycled in and out.

Geonwoo and Xinlong never left his side.

They talked to him as much as possible, even if he could barely respond. Even if he could barely react.

Xinlong updated him on medical school — every high, every low, every stumble and triumph. Geonwoo shared his work life, his recent promotion, and even his first marathon downtown.

All these little things, Leo hadn’t known. He had been trapped in his own world, too wrapped up in his illness and solitude to reach out, too tired to care enough to ask.

He felt guilt, of course. Sharp, gnawing guilt that tugged at his chest. But as he lay on the hospital bed, weak and hollow, there wasn’t much room left for it to settle.

Xinlong still cried every few hours. He tried to hold himself together — sometimes laughing with Geonwoo while retelling stories — but the silence always returned, heavy and suffocating, dragging him into his thoughts.

Geonwoo, on the other hand, never cried again. He plastered on a smile, teasing his boyfriend for crying, fussing over Leo like a worried parent, checking blankets, adjusting pillows, making sure the thin sheets didn’t wrinkle against his skin.

Leo lay in his hospital bed, the room quiet except for the soft beeping of monitors. The sun had long set outside, leaving only the dim overhead lights and the occasional shuffle of nurses in the hallway. His body felt heavier than ever, every breath a slow, deliberate effort.

He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there, drifting in and out of sleep, each time waking with a sudden jolt of reality — that Sangwon was away, and he couldn’t reach him. His phone lay on the bedside table, screen dark, turned off to avoid any notifications. The thought of calling Sangwon himself twisted something raw in his chest. He couldn’t — not in this state, not wanting to sound desperate or weak.

After two long days in the hospital, Xinlong finally asked the question hanging in the air.

“Hyung… do you want us to call Sangwon for you?”

Leo didn’t open his eyes. He lay motionless, fingers barely twitching. His chest rose slowly with shallow breaths.

“No,” he whispered, voice dry, cracked, almost swallowed by the room.

The couple exchanged a glance, heavy with understanding.

Leo shook his head without opening his eyes. “No… let him enjoy his trip,” he murmured, voice weak, almost defeated. “He doesn’t need to… worry about me.”

The nurse returned to check his vitals, clipboard in hand. Her movements were efficient but gentle, careful not to disturb him. Once she finished, she leaned slightly toward Geonwoo and Xinlong, lowering her voice so that Leo could not hear.

“It’s time,” she said softly.

The couple’s eyes widened, and their hands gripped each other’s. No words were spoken to Leo. He remained unaware, lying there, fragile and exhausted, drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness, oblivious to the urgent moment unfolding around him.

Geonwoo swallowed, fists tightening against the edge of the bed. Xinlong’s shoulders shook as he tried to steady himself. They shared a brief, trembling glance, silently agreeing.

Sangwon must be called.

Leo’s hand twitched against the thin hospital sheet, a small, almost imperceptible reach toward the world he had closed himself off from. But he didn’t move. He lay there, suspended between the fight he could no longer muster and the love he refused to burden anyone with.

And he thought to himself, Won, it looks like I couldn’t live without you after all. 

—

Sangwon didn’t get much time to check his phone while on vacation.

He spent his days taking pictures of everything he came across — small animals, different phases of the sun, every snack he ate — because he wanted to be able to go home and show them to Leo.

The same Leo who hasn’t been replying to any of his messages for the past twenty-four hours. 

His messages before were already clipped as is, but without him at home, he could only assume that the older was filling his free time with lots of sleep. Sangwon used to always joke that he could sleep for two days straight if given the chance. 

Still, unease crept in.

Sangwon lay sprawled across the hotel bed, warm light spilling through the curtains, sound of the shower running in the background. He was debating what to bring home for Leo when his phone began to vibrate against the desk.

He glanced over lazily.

Geonwoo.

His stomach dropped.

He answered immediately. “Woo?”

There was a pause, and for a moment it was just breathing. 

“Won,” Geonwoo said. His voice sounded wrong — like it had been broken in already. “I… I need to tell you something about Leo.”

Sangwon sat up straighter. His heart began to pound, loud in his ears.

“…Is he okay?”

Another pause.

“He’s in the hospital.”

The words landed heavy, but not unfamiliar. Sangwon closed his eyes.

Of course he is.

“…Why?” he asked quietly, though he already had a thousand answers waiting in his chest.

“It got worse,” Geonwoo said. “He went in for treatment and they… they admitted him. He didn’t want us to call you.”

Sangwon’s fingers curled around the edge of the mattress.

So you still won’t tell me.

Every time Sangwon noticed, he told himself: When he’s ready, he’ll tell me. I shouldn’t push him. I don’t want to scare him.

He swallowed. “Is he conscious?”

“Yes,” Xinlong’s voice joined softly, already shaking. “But he’s weak. He barely talks. He keeps saying he doesn’t want you to worry.”

Sangwon let out something between a laugh and a breath. “He always says that.”

The room felt too bright. Too alive.

“He said not to call?” Sangwon asked.

“…Yes.”

Of course he did.

Sangwon had waited for the confession that never came.

He had waited because he thought that was love.

“…How bad is it?” Sangwon asked.

Geonwoo’s silence was enough.

“It’s… serious,” he said carefully. “The nurses said we shouldn’t wait anymore.”

Sangwon’s throat tightened. “Wait for what?”

“For you.”

His breath hitched.

“So he’s just… lying there?” Sangwon whispered. “Thinking I don’t know?”

Xinlong broke into quiet sobs. “He thinks he’s protecting you.”

Sangwon squeezed his eyes shut.

Protecting me from what? Loving you?

“I should’ve made him tell me,” Sangwon said hoarsely. “I should’ve —”

“No,” Geonwoo said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Sangwon shook his head even though they couldn’t see him. “I did. I let him do this alone.”

“We’re booking you a flight,” Geonwoo continued. “As soon as possible. You need to come home.”

Sangwon stood abruptly, phone still pressed to his ear, legs trembling beneath him.

“…Don’t tell him yet,” he said suddenly.

Geonwoo hesitated. “Tell him what?”

“That I know.” His voice cracked. “Let him think I don’t. Just — just let me get there first.”

Another pause.

“…Okay,” Geonwoo said quietly.

Sangwon slid down onto the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

“Tell him…” His voice wavered. “Tell him I’m excited to show him the pictures. Tell him I saw a creek he would’ve loved.”

Xinlong choked. “Okay.”

“And tell him…” Sangwon pressed his fist into his chest. “Tell him I miss him.”

“We will.”

The call ended.

Sangwon lowered the phone slowly.

The hotel room still smelled like sunscreen and grass. His open suitcase sat half-packed. His camera roll was full of things meant for someone who had been dying without him.

He sat there for a long time before moving.

Not crying.

Just staring.

Thinking of Leo, alone in a hospital bed, believing he had hidden everything perfectly.

And Sangwon, who had known the truth… and still hadn’t saved him from being alone.

POST LEO  - A TABLE FOR NONE

Geonwoo prided himself in being an honorable and loyal person. Ask him to do something and he’ll do it — without asking, that’s the type of person he was.

So when Leo and Sangwon got into their fight a few years back and Leo had turned to him with big glassy eyes asking for a favor, how could he say no?

A whole year had passed since Leo’s death, and he still hadn’t fulfilled that promise.

“Hyung,” Geonwoo greeted the grave. Xinlong stood next to him, long tan coat and solemn look under his glasses. “It’s been awhile.”

The wind gushed past them, as if Leo was greeting them back. “We miss you — a lot. It’s not the same without you. But we’ve done a lot. You’d be proud to know that I got into my dream job and Long —” He nudged his boyfriend.

“I got into residency," he said with a hush.

“Remember the favor you asked for, back then?” Geonwoo exhaled slowly. “I know I haven’t kept it. We haven’t seen Sangwon since your funeral, and… it’s been hard.”

Another breeze passed over the marble stone.

“He’s safe, I know it,” Xinlong said. “He’s just… somewhere in the world right now. I think he knew all along, Hyung. Maybe not at the start, but eventually, he knew.”

Xinlong pulled a worn leather journal from his bag. “We brought it with us. Everywhere we go, hoping we might run into him one day.”

Geonwoo kicked a pebble near his foot. “We haven’t looked through it. Even though you said it was okay… it just doesn’t feel right.”

“We’ll get this to him eventually, Hyung. Even if we have to wait until we’re old,” Xinlong said, pressing his knuckles against the stone.

Geonwoo glanced at the journal. “I’m sure whatever’s in here, Sangwon would treasure it more than we can imagine.”

—

sangwon,

do you miss me? i miss you so much from heaven. i wish i could’ve held you for just a little longer.

does he make you happy? that’s all i wanted for you. i’m sorry i was a coward. i hid behind lies and left you running in circles when i should’ve been honest to begin with but to be honest, i just couldn’t do it. i couldn’t tell you.

to see the light leave ur eyes? to see ur smile fade? to see you waste your precious tears on me? i think i would rather die a million times over than cause you that type of pain.

maybe i was selfish. but in the end, it's hard to tell what’s right and wrong. i thought i did the right thing — still do. 

sangwon. my sangwon.

you know i love u right? you know i always have and always will.

in the end i did choose you, through and through. every last step, every last breath, i thought of you. i’m sorry to bring you so much agony the last few months before i passed. yes, i can feel that my time to go is soon, is that weird? it’s just a feeling i can’t shake.

i wrote in this journal whenever i could. all for you.

please don’t forget me, but please don’t stop living your life either.

sangwon. you know hyung loves you, right? i wish in another life we got our happy ending, cause u deserve it.

you’re actually right next to me on the couch as i write this, how silly, right? you’re taking a nap right now. so beautiful, my love. my sangwon. 

you’re so warm.

oh how i’m going to miss u so much.

i love you.

yours,

leo

—

Sangwon rushed through the hospital corridors.

Please, don’t let it be too late.

Through the hospital corridors, past the humming fluorescent lights, past nurses who glanced at him and looked away, past the antiseptic smell that burned his nostrils — he ran. Every step was heavy, like his heart was dragging his legs down, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t slow down.

Now, the corridors blurred. The soft click of his shoes on the tile echoed too loudly. His chest heaved so violently it hurt to inhale.

He burst through the door, hands trembling so hard the curtain tore under his grip.

“Hyung —!”

Nothing.

The bed was quiet. Too quiet.

He dropped to his knees beside Leo, searching frantically. Hands pressed against pale skin. Fingers traced cold, still contours. He shook him, shaking him like he could push life back into him.

“Hyung! Don’t — please!”

No response. No flinch. No breath to hear. Just the stillness of the hospital bed, the soft, mechanical beep of the monitor — life continuing outside the vacuum of this room.

Sangwon pressed his forehead to Leo’s chest, the warmth he remembered gone, replaced by icy emptiness. His sobs came ragged, uncontrollable, breaking out in waves.

“Why didn’t you wait?” His voice cracked, almost foreign even to himself. “Why did you leave me? I — fuck! I can’t — Hyung, please, please —”

He gripped the bedsheets, dragging them around his fingers, pulling at anything that might hold him there. His knees dug into the cold floor, but he didn’t feel the chill, didn’t feel anything but the absence of Leo.

“Won-ah,” a quiet voice said. Geonwoo, trembling, broken, standing behind him.

Sangwon didn’t look up. He didn’t want to see the pity, the helplessness mirrored in Geonwoo’s eyes. He couldn’t bear it.

Geonwoo knelt beside him, sliding an arm around his shaking shoulders. Xinlong was already there, sobbing silently, pressing his forehead to Sangwon’s back, whispering apologies into the curve of his neck.

Sangwon clung to Leo like he was all that kept the world from crumbling. Every inhale burned his lungs, every sob rattled through his chest. The small, bright memories of Leo — the warm touch of his hand, the little chuckle when Sangwon teased him, the way he always smelled faintly of tea and winter scarves — now felt like knives in Sangwon’s chest.

“Hyung,” he whispered again, voice cracking. “Please… open your eyes. Please.”

But Leo’s eyes were closed, pale lashes resting against skin that no longer had the warmth Sangwon had memorized. He shook him harder, clutching the cold jaw, brushing the hair from his face, pressing desperate kisses to his temple.

“Don’t leave me! Don’t do this! I can’t — I can’t — I can’t live without you!”

His cries tore through the room, harsh and raw, echoing off the sterile walls. Nurses and doctors appeared, hesitant, gentle, as if entering a sacred space. They tried to soothe him, to pull him back, but he could not hear them. The world had narrowed to one impossible fact.

 Leo was gone.

He pressed his face to the thin hospital pillow, hands tangled in the sheets, shaking violently. His tears soaked the fabric. Every sob was a memory of the life he had stolen from himself by letting Leo go — every hug, every laugh, every whispered “I love you” now twisted into regret and despair.

And then, a whisper, low and trembling, a breath caught between grief and rage.

“Hyung… I — I'm so sorry… I should have been there… I should have stopped you… please don’t leave me…”

Geonwoo’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Xinlong’s soft voice hummed through the sobs, a broken, quiet refrain: “He loved you, Won… he always loved you… he’s… he’s at peace.”

But Sangwon couldn’t hear it. He wouldn’t hear it.

Because Leo was gone, and every heartbeat in his chest screamed that nothing would ever feel whole again.

—

sangwon,

today i start my first journal entry for you. i still feel pretty good on my feet even after starting treatment. but the doctor said that eventually i’ll feel the fatigue catch up. 

when that day comes will you take care of me?

if i didn’t have this terrible illness and was able to grow old with you, would you still take care of me even when im gray and old?

you’d still be the prettiest, most gorgeous person i know when we grow old. your gentle smile, soft eyes, precious giggle. oh sangwon.

i’m so sorry.

yours,

leo

—

sangwon,

u graduated today!

it felt like such an honor watching you cross that stage. i keep replaying it in my head.

you looked especially beautiful today. and when we took photos together i thought, how did i get so lucky to have this person in my life?

your sister sent me the photo afterwards. i printed and attached it to the back pages of this journal. i dont know if you ever saw it, but its my favorite photo of us, you were right, im glad i wore that suit.

i hope this doesn’t sound odd, but after noona sent it over i cried staring at it for thirty minutes straight… you would’ve teased me to hell if you saw. you always said i was such a T, so you would’ve been surprised…

baby, don’t we look like a married couple in the photo? i dream of a future i can call you honey, dear, love, baby. i dream often now, and they all consist of you.

i don’t think ill ever escape you, sangwon. i truly don’t want to.

do you see the way you're clutching onto my arm? god, you're adorable. your smile radiates and you were glowing that day. my baby hasn’t aged a day, you look just like the day we first met. 

i’m proud of you, sangwon. always.

and im sorry we never got to make our wedding a reality, but hopefully this photo is enough until we meet again.

yours,

leo

—

sangwon,

my body aches so much nowadays.

but seeing you first thing in the morning makes all the pain go away for just a bit. 

sometimes when i go to the clinic by myself, i can’t help but wish u were by my side — whether you're reading your book or rambling about your day, i just want you there. but that’s selfish of me to say. 

these visits are draining. they suck the life out of everyone, even the nurses and doctors. it’s dull, gray and boring. you wouldn’t like it. i wouldn’t want you experiencing it.

gosh, just thinking about it sucks.

sangwon, im going to miss you so much. i think about death often these days. i don’t think my time is soon, but i cant help but think.

i also cry a lot. in the shower, in the car, in the studio. i cry so much. i think my tears could fill up the han river. i miss you all the time as if we don’t see each other everyday. sometimes when i stare at your face i tear up.

i don’t know if anyone else could ever experience the type of love i have for you. i eat, sleep, and breathe you. the way you curl up into yourself when you read. the way you stick your head out when i wake you up in the early mornings. the way you nag me for every article of clothing i leave behind. 

the way you say my name.

my dear sangwon, don’t you ever change. 

yours,

leo

—

sangwon, 

we just had the biggest fight of our lives. i can laugh about it now that we’ve made up, but i think the last week has been the worst few days of my entire life.

everytime i shut my eyes, all i could see were your red teary eyes. every moment of silence, i could hear your cracking trembling voice. even the perfume you wore that day was different then usual — u haven’t worn it since.

xinlong and geonwoo are life savers. How are they btw? they knocked some sense into me, maybe not as much as u hoped, but just enough.

im glad we made up. im glad i get to see your face everyday again.

i bet you have so much to share with me now, huh? assuming that you reread these… i wish i was there for all of your life milestones. 

i’m sorry for every single birthday i miss. every single late night you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. every time you finish a book and want to talk about it.

i’m so sorry for leaving you my love. my sangwon. you know that if i had a choice i’d stay for the next ten millenniums with you if i could.

yours,

leo

— 

sangwon,

hyung loves you.

yours,

leo

—

sangwon,

your mom has been mentioning marriage a lot recently. it makes me sad to hear her say all these things. is living the way we live now a burden on you? i wish you would tell me if so.

i don’t think i could let go of you just yet. i still yearn for your touch every time i wake up and everytime i go to bed.

thinking about you with another man… it’s killing me faster than this cancer is. my greed far exerts those greater than me. my greed only ever shows for you tho. i want more, i crave more, i work hard — all to bring back to you. to keep you by my side.

you are beautiful today, sangwon. you are beautiful everyday but today, you are ethereal. there’s something about you in the simplest of clothes that makes you shine above the rest.

sangwon, i hope u don’t miss me too much now, cause i know ill miss you for an eternity.

yours,

leo

—

sangwon,

i’m sorry, my love.

i’m so so so sorry.

it hurts me so much to do this, but i have to. you deserve someone who can look after you for years to come. i can’t give that to you.

it hurts me to come to this truth. 

i

i can’t write anymore tonight.

i’m sorry again, my sangwon.

yours,

leo

—

sangwon,

he seems like a good guy. 

after all these years you still ask me the same question. i still can’t seem to muster up an answer for you, it hurts me far too much.

you and him seem to get along. he’s safe, kind, stable.

you asked me at one point if i don’t want you anymore. i couldn’t answer. it seems nowadays i say that i couldn’t often. 

it’s not that i don’t want you anymore. it’s far from that. i want you too much. i dream of you each night, even when we share the same bed. i crave to hear your voice when you’re quietly reading your book. i yearn for your touch whenever there’s even a foot of distance between us.

i want you. more than anything.

but.

i don’t want to hold you back.

i’ve been noticing you cancel your plans more often, staying in more, calling your friends less. you’re holding back on yourself and, god, how could i allow that?

my sangwon, my beautiful sangwon, you must not wait for me in this lifetime. 

i’m afraid there will be no us in this lifetime.

yours,

leo

—

Sangwon heard the door slam shut as Leo left for work. 

His mother had been bothering him again nonstop, waking him up early from his slumber. He couldn’t go back to bed afterwards, so he laid there staring up at the ceiling as he listened to Leo get ready for the day.

He stumbled more often now. His fingers shook, declined meals, and his clothes looked baggier than usual. There was something wrong — Sangwon wasn’t stupid, but he had a feeling the older was not going to tell him.

So when he heard the door slam shut, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stared at the wall he had meticulously decorated with framed pictures of his life. Leo and him at an art exhibit, his two sisters posing by the Han river, a candid group photo of their friends at a cafe. He blinked at the frames, curling his fingers around the linen sheets below him. 

Before he could change his mind, he tiptoed towards Leo’s room and cracked it open. As usual, it was a mess. It smelled strongly of his favorite cologne that Sangwon had gifted him, and he had clothes tossed all over the floor. Hats and beanies decorated the top of his dresser, and his bed was haphazardly made.

He treaded through carefully as if he was walking through a minefield, and entered the personal bathroom. There, he found what he was looking for.

Bright orange bottles littered the vanity table. His breath hitched at the sight, mind filling with static as the sight in front of him confirmed his worst nightmare.

He couldn’t stomach even picking up one of the bottles, so he shakily turned and stumbled out. His eyes caught sight of papers scattered on his desk, and he steered toward them. With shaky hands, he picked up a few sheets, eyes scanning the words quickly.

Treatment.

Cost.

Clinic. 

Cancer.

symptoms. 

The answers were in front of him.

All the naps, all the lies, all the stonewalling — everything made sense now.

And knowing Leo, he wasn’t planning on telling Sangwon at all.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself. His eyes watered, burned. “Fuck, Hyung,” he croaked, staring down at the papers in his hands.

He looked over his shoulders at the bright orange bottles that taunted him on the white counter. “Hyung,” he said wetly. 

“You’re a damn shit liar.”

—

sangwon, 

though the days seem shorter and shorter, i don’t mind as long as i spend them with you.

i heard you and anxin talk over the phone today about settling down.

deep down i wish we could settle down in the countryside of australia, not to far from sydney but also far enough that i can have you all to myself

i know im being selfish right now. 

but… but i think its time i realize that i love you too much to hold you back like this.

won. just because i am letting you go, it does not mean that i love you any less.

i think i love you too much it hurts.

yours,

leo

—

sangwon,

before my diagnosis, i had been planning on asking you to be my boyfriend for quite some time. i bought you a bracelets, its in my closet somewhere beneath my clothes. i  know you hate how messy my room is, but its there if you ever want to take a look at it.

im gutwretched that i will never get to see you wearing it. it would look so utterly beautiful on you, my love. 

somedays i think about saying damn to it all and giving it to you. Asking you.

but i can’t do that to you. it would tether you down to something dark and grueling. i spend everyday wondering what it would be like if you knew, but each and every time, my heart stills at the image of your sad eyes, your lips pulled into a frown, your light dimming. 

just you as you are now gives me life. i truly think that if it wasn’t for you, this cancer would have taken me by now.

thank you for being my one and only life line, sangwon.

yours,

leo

—

sangwon,

you agreed to your first date today. its with some random guy from your mom’s church.

we fought about it. it hurt me more than i could have ever imagined, but it needed to be done.

i hope when you read these you come to learn that everything i said and have done, has been for you. 

my heart aches at the thought of you even sitting across from another man while i wait at home for you.

but there are things i must sacrifice in order for you to have that future you deserve.

my sangwon, i would do this a thousand times over if it meant that you got to live the future that you wanted.

yours,

leo

—

sangwon,

today i walked you to one of your dates again.

you always make a fuss about it, but i like it. for a few minutes, it seems like we’re the ones going on a date. 

you looked beautiful as always, my love.

your hair is getting long and you havent had the time to cut it, but i think it suits you. 

you looked ethereal tonight. the stars gazed down upon you with envy. i was envious, not at you, but for you.

i wish that it was me waiting for you at that restaurant. that it was me giving you those flowers. that it was me who got to hear your soft, sweet voice over a candle lit dinner.

sangwon, im so jealous — in ways i cannot describe. it feels almost wrong to feel this way. 

when you come home tonight i will hear all about this date. it wont be ideal, but seeing you smile and hearing you talk is enough for me to settle.

in our next lifetime, i will wade through a sea of fire for you, my love.

dont wait for me now, but wait for me then.

yours,

leo

—

sangwon,

a trip? how fun.

im never going to be able to take you to australia, but sometimes, at night i dream about it.

i dream about what it would be like if i could show you all the places i visited often in middle school, take you to my favorite restaurants, walk along the beaches — they are different from the ones here.  

i dream even when im awake. I dream and dream about the what ifs, about the possibilities. 

i dream that i got to take your hand and ask for you to be my one and only, to give you the bracelet. to see you wear it everyday.

i dont know how ill survive with you gone for those few days, but i guess ill just have to figure it out. i already feel so lost when you leave for work.

tonight, i hope to dream about you again. this time, maybe itll last a little longer than the last one.

yours,

leo

—

sangwon,

i miss u more than life.

yours,

leo

—

sangwon,

i dont know what day it is, but ill be goin to my treatement today.

it was extra hard to get out of bed today.

i miss your warmth.

please hold me tight upon your return.

yours,

leo

—

Sangwon never thought his first time out of the country would be without Leo. 

For as long as he could remember, he had imagined they would go together — hand in hand, arguing over maps, getting lost on purpose just to see what they’d find.

Instead, he found himself alone, parting branches and leaves as he searched for the trail’s end. The ground was damp beneath his boots, the small sounds of unseen critters making his heart jump. He was certain he’d walked straight through at least four cobwebs by now.

He pushed through the last veil of ferns and low-hanging branches, boots sinking softly into moss that smelled of rain and pine. The forest breathed around him — a thin breeze flew past him, sending goosebumps up his skin.

The sound of trickling water grew closer, and he picked up his steps, nearly stumbling into the opening.

There it was.

A small creek curled through the clearing like a ribbon of glass, its water so clear it seemed borrowed from the sky itself. Rocks swirled in deep fresh moss, and the current slipped quietly over smooth stones. The air felt cooler here, sweeter, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming things. For a moment, the world narrowed to the sound of flowing water and the slow, steady rise of breath — beautiful, breathtaking, and impossibly gentle.

He took hesitant steps towards the bank, before collapsing to his knees. He dipped his fingers into the cool water, shivering as it ran through his fingers. He shut his eyes, imagining Leo in this very spot.

His tall, lean figure, sitting here during sad days just thinking about life. Eyes full of tears, throat tight and thick, crying into the sounds of nature that drowned him out. 

Sangwon felt his breath hitch as he sank back onto his bottom, drawing his knees up to his chest as slow sobs made their way up his throat. “God,” he whispered to himself. “Hyung, I wish you were here.”

He closed his eyes.

He could see Leo here so clearly it hurt — tall frame folded in on itself, elbows resting on his knees, staring into the water like it might answer him. Crying quietly so no one would hear. Letting the forest take his sadness instead of Sangwon.

“I knew,” Sangwon whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His voice broke on the second syllable. “I knew something was wrong.”

His chest tightened as he drew his knees up, arms wrapping around them. He had seen the bottles. The trembling hands. The way Leo got tired just from standing.

And still, he had waited.

Waited for Leo to say it first.

Waited for the right time.

Waited until there was no time left at all.

“I thought… if I didn’t force you to say it,” he murmured to the water, “then maybe it wasn’t real yet.”

His fingers found the thin gold chain at his wrist. He pressed it hard against his chest, like it might stitch something back together inside him.

Tears came in heavy, ugly waves. He cried until his ribs ached, until his throat burned, until the world blurred into green and blue and white. The creek kept running, steady and uncaring, and somehow that made it worse — and better.

It felt like Leo was beside him.

Not as he had been in the hospital, but as he used to be — warm, breathing, alive.

The breeze brushed through his hair, drying his tears, and Sangwon lifted his head slowly. The water shimmered in front of him, endless and moving forward, no matter what it left behind.

And softly — as if afraid the world might break if he spoke too loudly — he said, “Hyung… I would have said yes, even if you had just one day left.”