Work Text:
“I’m breaking up with you.”
For a moment, the classroom went silent — even the howling of the thunderstorm outside faded into a whisper until it started moving at full speed again.
Jihoon looks at the boy before him, hands clasped tight at his sides as he says the five words casually. What was he supposed to say to that?
Kim Dohoon was his boyfriend of 8 months — he was also Jihoon’s first ever boyfriend and first love.
He remembers the day Dohoon confessed to him like it was yesterday; the weather mirroring the one outside today. Valentines day. Dohoon bought a bouquet of flowers for him, wrapped in blue and yellow cellophane with a handmade pipe cleaner jellyfish sticking out from the middle. Jihoon’s heart ached at the sight, Dohoon must have used up an entire week of pocket money just to afford that; so when drizzling rain turned into heavy pouring and the white peonies Dohoon held firmly onto started drooping, the sight only made Jihoon want to cling onto the other tightly. The Valentines Day activities the school organised came to an abrupt end with the weather, but the two lingered in the courtyard underneath the rain, letting the sound of falling raindrops be their serenade as Jihoon wrapped Dohoon into his arms. Droopy flowers had nothing on Jihoon when Dohoon was right there in front of him professing his love so vulnerably.
“Why?” Jihoon asks, his voice cracking, “Weren’t we just talking about the future last week?”
He couldn't cry, not like this. Even if he loved Dohoon so much that the thought of being apart hurt like being stabbed in the chest, Jihoon couldn’t tie him down.
“What made you change your mind?” He finally lets a tear slip, his voice trembling now, “Did—Did I do something? I didn’t mean it.”
Dohoon plants a soft kiss on his lips, but it doesn’t feel the same. It isn't hopeful, like the one they shared under the rain on Valentines Day. It isn’t sweet like the one they shared on their first date. It feels like a goodbye, and it sends a shiver down to Jihoon’s core.
A few more tears slide down his cheeks.
When Dohoon peels back Jihoon can see the look in his eyes. They’re still full with the love Jihoon was sure he had.
Jihoon always wondered how things would be like when Dohoon graduated. He was a 3rd year, after all, and Jihoon was just a freshman. He would take the CSAT and apply for university — but Jihoon wasn’t going to let that distance stop them even if each day felt like hell without Dohoon. Fate seemed to have other plans for him though, since he guesses he’ll never see Dohoon off at his farewell party after this or be the one Dohoon comes running to first after returning home from a long semester.
Han Jihoon will only ever know 3rd year Senior Kim Dohoon, who taught him what it feels like to love, and what it feels like to have your heart broken.
He feels Dohoon’s cold fingertips wipe his tears away with that gentleness he always has with him.
“I’m sorry, Jihoon-ah.”
When his face is dried, albeit tearstreaked and puffy, Dohoon isn’t there anymore. He isn’t down the hallway with a banner that says, ‘YouGotPranked!’, or waiting for Jihoon to chase after him. The next week, he’s not following Jihoon’s Instagram account — and the week after that Jihoon realises he’s been coming to their usual swingset with no one waiting.
He’s experienced Seoul in the wintertime, but the heartbreak of his first love will always feel colder.
So, maybe the first month or two after his breakup was bad, to say the least. And maybe the month after that too, and the same for the next few weeks.
Jihoon didn’t end up packing Dohoon’s lunch box for his CSAT, nor see him off to the exam venue, nor plan for a crazy over the top ceremony to congratulate him afterwards. When the day of the CSAT rolled around, he woke up with a dull pang in his chest. It wasn’t sharp like it was three months ago, but it wasn’t gone either. Was Dohoon already at the venue? Did he get enough sleep last night? Would he be able to sit for the paper in such chilly weather? He wouldn't know, he hasn’t seen Dohoon since they broke up.
On the bright side, he's been spending much more time with Hanjin, which he hadn’t been doing recently. In fact, Hanjin convinced him to download Twitter to join him in his fanscapades, which so far has been seemingly well despite its… reputation…
His profile is nothing out of the ordinary; His profile picture is set to a selca of Twice’s Momo, and he has one follower — Hanjin.
Usually he keeps the app open no longer than 5 minutes, only scrolling through his timeline and reposting whatever’s interesting — mostly dance content. He doesn't leave comments, nor does he follow anyone other than his favourite dance accounts, so when he stumbles upon this tweet he isn’t sure what about it makes him so ticked off.
아샷추ㅜㅜ @asyatchuhuhhhu • 10m •••
ppl glaze hyoyeon sm but her dancing is just mid 💀my ex dances better fr
| 🪐@snsdtheg… • 1d
16 years post debut and still no one’s touching your crown
#queenhyoyeon
Okay, first: Hyoyeon is NOT mid, and in no universe is she glazed. If anything, she doesn't get glazed enough! And op’s ex can fuck themself.
|
ㅇㅇ @haepiful • 2s •••
genuine question do u think with your brain
The reply comes in quicker than he expects.
|
아샷추ㅜㅜ @asyatchuhuhhhu • 21s •••
just being honest
|
ㅇㅇ @haepiful • 2s •••
be serious LMFAOO she was snsds main dancer for YEARS??? if u want to be honest i suggest starting by confronting ur feelings for ur ex 😂
(Jihoon knows he isn’t one to speak, but right now it’s him, Hyoyeon, and the rest of Soneville on the line so he pushes his feelings aside.)
|
아샷추ㅜㅜ @asyatchuhuhhhu • 36s •••
ur acting like being a main dancer even means anything lol tht just means her dancing was less mid than the rest of her members
|
ㅇㅇ @haepiful • 27s •••
LESS MID THAN THE REST OF HER MEMBERS??? ik ur not shading snsd in front of me 10/10 ragebait
|
아샷추ㅜㅜ @asyatchuhuhhhu • 18s •••
literally proving my point yall glaze her SO hard its not like she invented dancing 😭
|
ㅇㅇ @haepiful • 10s •••
no one said that but calling her MID is insane atp this is just unresolved attachment to ur ex goodbye
|
아샷추ㅜㅜ @asyatchuhuhhhu • 1s •••
cause my ex would eat this choreo up im sorry
Jihoon huffs, his breath pushing his bangs up. He can’t even be angry, because he’d pick his own ex over Hyoyeon too. It’s 2am on a Sunday and he just got maybe the most cardio since his break up. He slams his phone back onto the mattress and pulls the blanket he has wrapped around his knees higher. He lets his eyes flutter shut for the night, letting the weight settle in his chest.
When he wakes up, there’s a new notification.
|
yeoboseyo?? @meogeoyong • 2h •••
wait icl the tension is insane
He finds himself revisiting the thread several times over the next week, between lugging himself back and forth from school.
“I will not e-date a Hyoyeon hater, Hanjin.” Jihoon scowls, “Anyways, I’m not over Dohoon-hyung yet.”
Hanjin just cackles in response.
Jihoon doesn’t tell him how he wants to throw himself off a cliff whenever he looks back at user @asyatchuhuhhhu’s replies. He misses Dohoon so much that he’s becoming fixated on the only other person — a complete stranger — who reminds Jihoon of him. And that’s only because he has an ex!
He hides his face in his hands, then brings it up through his hair, a ridiculously sad pout on his face.
“What’s wrong?” Hanjin asks, suddenly concerned.
“Nothing.” Jihoon sighs, “I just really fucking miss Dohoon.”
This, just like many other incidents, becomes just another funny memory to look back on.
He’s moved on, or at least that’s what he’s trying to do. Hanjin convinced him to trim his bangs against Jihoon’s very adamant protests that that was one of Dohoon’s favourite features of him, though he eventually caved in because the strands kept touching his eyelids when he danced. He started bulking up a bit, high school puberty finally hitting as they approached the new school year. He now trades an extra half hour of sleep to dab on a thin layer of foundation in the morning; late night dancing as a coping method is not good for his skin regime.
He’s tutting at a bus stop waiting for Hanjin to alight when his phone pings from his pocket.
“Ah, Hanjin better not be late.” He mutters under his breath, though there isn’t a trace of annoyance.
Notification Centre ⨂
[Instagram] dubaichewykyungmin and 5 others liked your story
[Instagram] saipabo the bus driver missed my stop ㅜㅜ i’m running back as soon as i reach the next one !!!
[Instagram] ddalgioppa Do u want this [photo attachment]
[X] New message from @asyatchuhuhhhu
[NYT Games] Wordle Reminder
Jihoon groans, “Ah, Park Hanjin, why are you late?!”
And then he rubs his eyes. New message from @asyatchuhuhhhu. He’s never clicked on a Twitter notification faster.
◂ 아샷추ㅜㅜ 📞🎥
4 Feb 2026
| hi ik we arent friends or anything but
my irl convinced me to stan snsd
recently and i thought of letting u
know bc hyoyeon is actl an insane
dancer 1:54pm
Okay, what the fuck? Suddenly, the world is reduced to just Jihoon and that singular DM.
He hears padding footsteps getting louder from behind him which has to be Hanjin’s, “Jihoon-ah! I ran here as fast as I could, did I make you wait long?”
“No fucking way, Hanjin-ah.”
“No way, Asyatchu did not DM you.” Hanjin cocks a brow, clearly disbelieving.
“He did! And I literally have the receipts pulled up in front of you.” Jihoon crosses his arms.
Hanjin practically dragged Jihoon to the nearest aesthetic cafe nearby for a ‘debrief’ of the entire ordeal when he saw Jihoon’s jaw drop to the ground at the bus stop.
Hanjin smirks, stirring his matcha latte with one hand, the other holding Jihoon’s phone, “The tension is crazy.”
Jihoon whines, shoving him lightly, “What do I say, Hanjin?”
“Just say what you mean.” Hanjin states, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Tell him you have no business being moots with a Girls Generation hater. And let him know he probably fumbled his ex because of that.”
Jihoon rolls his eyes, sipping on his own drink, “Hanjin, I literally fumbled my own ex, I cannot fucking speak on that.”
“Well, at least you’ve never hated Girls Generation?”
Jihoon sighs and snatches his phone back from Hanjin—who seems a bit too excited about @asyatchuhuhhhu. He types a few words out and hits send.
“What did you send?”
“LMAOO i told you.”
“Oh.”
His phone vibrates once more.
“What is it?”
“He…” Jihoon clasps his hand over his mouth, “He followed me?!”
Somehow, Jihoon found himself following back. The mysterious aura of user @asyatchuhuhhhu who dragged Hyoyeon was something he had to investigate personally.
It started with a forwarded thread of Momo’s dancing — and after months morphed into shared rankings of Twice’s title tracks.
◂ 아샷추ㅜㅜ 📞🎥
7 August 2026
| why is knock knock so low??
OMG how many times do i need to repeat knock |
knock isnt bad its just that everything else is better
| im getting a bit of deja vu with that remark
| ik urnot shading KNOCK KNOCK in fromt of me 10/10 ragebait
Three years later, they're somehow still moots on Twitter, still exchanging DMs like they were when Jihoon was still young and fresh out of his relationship.
They talk almost every other day unless either of them are busy with schoolwork, which is usually the case, now more than ever since Jihoon found out Asyatchu was approaching his third year in university. A fact that drove Jihoon crazy during the early days of their friendship, because that put him at the same age as Dohoon (which he’s still slightly hung up over even after so long, but at least he’s had Hanjin and Asyatchu to distract him).
About a year in, Asyatchu stopped talking about his ex—Jihoon only following suit a few months later, because if his oomf could move on then so could he, right?
Jihoon still thinks they were brought together by fumbling their exes, more than a Hyoyeon hate tweet, anyways.
Some things just never change, like his fortnightly cafe runs with Hanjin, or staying out too late at the dance studio and getting scolded by his mother, and his conversations with @asyatchuhuhhhu in the dead of night.
It’s December and Jihoon is getting his CSAT results back—and he’s completely faithful that his grades are also something that never changes. So, when he frantically types in the website url and sees the row of 1s and 2s on his screen, his phone flies out of his hands and he clings to the nearest body to him—which in this case, is Hanjin.
“I thought you didn’t study?!” Hanjin gawks, picking up Jihoon’s fallen phone and reloading the page.
“Yah, why are you reloading it? I’m totally smart!”
Hanjin throws a pillow at his face, knocking him onto the ground.
“Oh my gosh, Han Jihoon, that means you qualify for that dance department scholarship!”
Jihoon launches himself off the floor, tears streaming down his face. The world was finally giving him justice for that horrendous break up three years ago. Or, so he thought.
The university he wanted to go to? Turns out, breaking up with Jihoon must have done Dohoon some good; because 5 months after the break up in March his mother sent him a screenshot of her facebook feed—showing a picture of Dohoon at that very university, which could only mean his grades had to have been even better than Jihoon’s.
“Why are you making that face?”
“What face?”
“Han Jihoon, don’t tell me you’re rethinking that scholarship because of your ex.”
Jihoon blinks at Hanjin innocently, “I mean, it’s not just Dohoon…”
“Dohoon shouldn’t be a factor at all!” Hanjin scolds.
“I mean, their dorms also kind of suck..?”
Hanjin pushes himself off the cushion he’s sitting on and rolls his eyes, “You are really hopeless, you know that?”
He knows he shouldn’t—it really is stupid to let his ex of 3 years affect his choice to accept a scholarship, a full ride scholarship to his dream course— but he ends up spending more time than he should mulling over it.
“Still haven’t decided?” Hanjin asks, on one of their game nights.
Jihoon whines back, dropping his controller, “No…”
Hanjin gives him a look, before reaching for the bowl of chips beside him.
Jihoon picks his phone up, scrolling through his feed mindlessly to distract himself from the burden of making a decision.
◂ 아샷추ㅜㅜ 📞🎥
14 December 2028
| Did your results come out???
Jihoon sighs, but he opens the chat anyway.
got in |
got a week to accept |
| WAIT
| the scholarship one???
full ride n everything but my ex goes there so 🫥 |
and apparently the dorms r hell |
[photo attachment] |
| LMAOOO
| thats literally my school
wait wtf? |
ru fr |
since when were u an academic weapon??? |
| excuse me ????
| very rude
Jihoon rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now.
| are u actually considering it?
i mean its stupid to let my ex affect it but still |
| okay valid
| but
| if the dorms are the only thing stopping u i have a vacant room in my apartment
| if u end up accepting u can take it
r u serious |
| yeah
| better than living in those slumps
| also then i don’t need to wait 5 hours for a reply to the sana fancams i send u
actually such a good offer wtf?? |
ru sure u want to live with me |
| LOL take it as an apology for dissing
hyoyeon 3 years ago
ok |
apology accepted |
Jihoon closes the app and opens his email. He stares at the acceptance portal again.
Maybe it’s a little impulsive? But it’s his dream course. Dohoon may have been his first human love, but everyone knows he would have given his first kiss to dance if that was even possible. And it’s not like he’s any less deserving since he was offered a full ride scholarship.
He has to remind himself, his ex goes there. But then if he lives with Asyatchu, there’s no chance of seeing his ex on campus either.
His phone buzzes, a notification popping up at the top of his screen.
◂ 아샷추ㅜㅜ
| are u accepting it now
Jihoon’s nails hit his keyboard hard as he types.
shut up |
im deciding |
| btw if u reject it im telling everyone ur scared
Jihoon scoffs, but it’s the lightest his chest has felt all week.
He goes back to the acceptance portal.
His thumb hovers over Accept Offer, then—
Click.
Offer accepted.
The confirmation email arrives in his inbox almost immediately.
◂ 아샷추ㅜㅜ
mark your calendar for march |
i am coming. |
“Why are you convulsing on the floor?” Hanjin asks from the doorway, coming back into the room with a drink.
Jihoon presses his phone to his chest, “Hanjin-ah…I accepted it.”
“What?! Since when?!”
March feels far away, but his phone doesn’t stop lighting up.
◂ 아샷추ㅜㅜ 📞🎥
| do u know how to cook
no |
| fuck we r going to die
are u expecting me to do your dry cleaning too? |
| no that i can do myself
◂ 아샷추ㅜㅜ 📞🎥
| will we go album shopping on weekends
YES but on sundays because hanjin and i are |
still going for weekly cafe runs on saturday
◂ 아샷추ㅜㅜ 📞🎥
just checking but i dont need to pay |
rent right
| no
should i make you pay rent?
no thanks ㅎㅎ |
i will pay u in chores…..
| u LITERALLY got angry when i asked u if u could cook
◂ 아샷추ㅜㅜ 📞🎥
wait actually what if we hate each |
other
| not possible u already annoy me
The rest of December and January flew past fast enough, leaving Jihoon in a messy bedroom on February 28th. And in the haze of his frantic packing, he and Hanjin dug out a dusty cardboard box at the back of his closet, which now acts as a stand for all the things he’s packing with him.
“Jihoon-ah, this keychain is so cute!”
Jihoon sneezes before he replies—allergies from the dust, “What keychain?”
Hanjin holds up a jellyfish plush that’s attached to a metal ring, and Jihoon recognizes it immediately. A matching keychain Dohoon bought for them for their one month anniversary. He wonders if Dohoon’s own set has been thrown out already, or is also rotting in the depths of his closet back home.
“It’s cute,” Hanjin says, admiring the keychain in his palm, “It looks totally like you!”
That was the reason Dohoon bought it for them, at the aquarium they visited that day. As he hung his own jellyfish on his bag, he told Jihoon, ‘Something to remind me of you.’
He groans, breaking his 4 hour long streak of bad posture on the floor to snatch the keychain out of Hanjin’s hand.
“Stupid keychain Dohoon bought for me.”
Hanjin goes silent at that, moving onto folding some of Jihoon’s clothes he tossed onto his bed.
Jihoon takes his seat back in the middle of his room's chaos on the floor, then looks at the keychain in his palm. It’s not an ugly keychain, if anything it was quite cute—screw Dohoon for having such good taste—but no way in hell was Jihoon going to hang it on his bag around the campus like a token to show off how not over his high school ex he was. So for now, that silly jellyfish keychain will go back into his closet, along with that dusty cardboard box he and Hanjin pulled out, which was probably mostly filled with Dohoon’s hoodies he never returned.
Once the packing’s out of the way, he pulls Hanjin in for a tight hug before he can leave for the night.
“You can’t forget me, okay!” Jihoon whines, tears welling in his eyes.
Hanjin chuckles, hugging back, “I feel like I should be the one saying that, no? We’ll still be meeting every Saturday, it’s a promise.”
“But that’s not the same! What if I see Dohoon and I have no one’s shoulder to cry on and complain to!”
Hanjin smiles, pulling back, “Then let’s hope Asyatchu is patient enough.”
Jihoon laughs, “He has no idea what he signed up for.”
Apparently, neither did Jihoon.
Later that night, he’s lying in bed, tucked under his weighted blanket he can’t fit into his luggage and hugging his Hello Kitty plushie he has to leave behind, and he can’t seem to get his eyes shut.
This has always been his dream, to pull a 360 and fix his grades, get into the course he’s been eyeing since he was a lame elementary school student—move out and become independent. A new start.
He pulls his blanket up a little higher. He finally has it all, but somehow it feels terrifying when it’s less than 12 hours away.
By noon the next day, he’s comfortably settled in the train—a ride no longer than an hour since his family already lives in Seoul, but his friends still visited him the morning he left.
By late afternoon, Jihoon was rolling his luggage down Asyatchu’s corridor, somehow making it past security seamlessly. The lobby alone looked like it belonged in a hotel, with the polished marble floor. Jihoon had to double check the address to make sure he didn’t read it wrong.
No wonder he wasn’t charged rent. Asyatchu was rich.
He’s standing in front of Apartment 42B, staring at the door’s like it's going to bite him. Suddenly, he feels convinced to text Hanjin to come get him.
Before his mind can spiral any further he knocks at the door three times. Then he immediately regrets it.
He bites his lip anxiously, and suddenly where he’s putting his hands doesn’t feel right.
Then he hears movement—shuffling. Footsteps. Slow. He flashes an awkward smile when he hears them coming closer.
The lock clicks once and the door opens.
The first thing he sees is a shoulder; half hidden by the door, but he can tell it’s broad—collarbones hidden by an oversized t-shirt but defined.
Then his duffel bag falls to the ground with a thud. His smile drops.
Clearly, the boy standing behind the door seems to be having the same reaction.
“Ki—” Jihoon’s voice dies in his throat, his eyes wide and heart pounding, “Kim Dohoon?”
He can hear his luggage rolling away from him. His voice barely comes out as a whisper, and Jihoon feels the stitches he’s mended over the years slowly tearing apart.
The boy behind the door is just as still. His hair is brushed back the same way it was when he was still on the soccer team, his lips tinted the same shade of lipgloss Jihoon bought for him when they were still dating, the same dark eyes that used to look at Jihoon and only Jihoon alone, except his cheeks lack the once youthful plumpness they used to have. He looks the same but entirely different.
Jihoon doesn’t know where to look. Where to put his hands. When he accidentally locks eyes with the boy he takes a step back and trips slightly on his fallen duffel bag. Of course he does.
The boy opens the door just a little wider.
Meanwhile, Jihoon just stares at him like he’s just a figment of his imagination.
“Um, are you? Haepiful?” Dohoon’s voice comes out quietly, still half hiding behind the door.
Jihoon’s heart drops to his ass.
So, it is him.
Jihoon does the only thing he knows how to do. He takes off, leaving both his duffel bag and luggage lying in the middle of the apartment corridor.
It’s only when he’s run out of Dohoon’s apartment complex and the cold air hits him straight in the face does Jihoon realise his coat is still stuffed in his duffel bag, which is probably still sitting outside Dohoon’s door. His phone and wallet are in his pocket, at least, so he can at least afford to buy a heatpack from a convenience store.
He ends up taking a bus nearer to the campus, no heatpack in hand, where he finds comfort in a cafe nearby for a few hours—he just knows Hanjin would like this place.
He finds a spot in the corner where no one can bother him, then habitually opens Twitter; he has to stop himself from forwarding yesterday’s recent Sana fancam to Asyatchu..? Dohoon? Jihoon doesn’t know anymore.
He opens the chat, rereading the years of messages exchanged with a heavy heart. He scrolls back a few months and lands right on the conversation where he first let it slip about his scholarship.
And then it clicked.
Dohoon was probably in his apartment right now coming to his senses about how crazily obsessed Jihoon has been with him for the past three years. He lets out a groan, earning him a few glares from tables near him but he can’t be bothered to apologise. Forget his coat, or his duffel bag and luggage, and thank god his Hello Kitty doll didn’t fit in his bags — he is never going back to that apartment.
He’s knocked back to his senses when he steps out of the cafe — on top of the cold air, the setting sun glares right into his eyes, and Jihoon already knows it’s only going to get colder from here on out. He doesn’t want to end up homeless for the night, either.
He reluctantly makes it back to the apartment complex in half an hour with no more than 5 cents in his card, cursed matcha lattes sucking up all his money.
With heavy steps he walks to Dohoon’s door, but before he can even knock on it, it swings open.
When the door slams open, Jihoon can finally take in the full sight of Kim Dohoon after 4 long years. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding which fogs up the space between them for a few seconds.
There’s a moment of silence between them, Jihoon standing there, torn between his first love and running away, again. Meanwhile, Dohoon stares into his eyes like he’s searching for something, and Jihoon’s heart stutters immediately, shifting his gaze somewhere else.
Their trance is broken by a strong pull — Dohoon’s — yanking Jihoon into his apartment forcefully and dragging him to his kitchen island. He doesn’t even process the movement until he’s sat on a high stool with Dohoon crouched in front of him.
Dohoon reaches to his forehead, a frown etching his forehead, “Why didn’t you come back sooner? You’re freezing, Jihoon-ah.” He moves his hand off his forehead to dust at his bangs, where fallen snowflakes seemed to have landed. Jihoon didn’t notice. He wonders if he looks stupid, now, staring at Dohoon blankly as he fusses over him. The way he moves, talks to Jihoon, the same soft touch of his fingers, it’s almost like it was yesterday that they broke up; Jihoon’s whole world going still while Dohoon rushed to fix him. Was he going to leave this time too?
With five long strides Dohoon walks from his living room and back, wrapping a blanket around him, “Wait here.”
Jihoon watches Dohoon walk away past the wall, into a room he can’t see what’s inside. He looks around the apartment. It’s big, is what he notices first. From the high stool he’s sitting on he can look over the living room, a wide couch against a wall and an even wider TV against the other. And beside the couch, he sees his duffel bag. Stacked neatly on top of his luggage, like Dohoon had sorted everything out while he was gone.
Then something else catches his eye. Dohoon’s backpack, the same one he used even as a high schooler. The one that got drenched with them underneath the curtains of rain that February 14th when Dohoon changed his life. Dangling from one of the zippers was a keychain. Blue and white and identical to the Jellyfish keychain Hanjin dug up just last night. Except his is worn thin, stretched out at the tentacles, with dirt clinging to the edge of the fur strands. It looked too worn out for a keychain that only lasted 8 months long.
Something uncomfortable fills his chest, tight and consuming.
Dohoon steps back into the room, practically sprinting to Jihoon’s side as he continues to fuss over something, though he never gets to the point. The one about how for three years now they’ve been mutuals on Twitter, spending nights where they were supposed to be busy studying exchanging messages. And how Jihoon has made it sickly obvious to him, of all people, how sickly obsessed he was with Dohoon even after 4 years. He wants to dig his own grave in the layers of snow piling up outside.
Jihoon breaks the silence, “Hyung, just let me stay the night. I’ll be out of your hair before you can even wake up in the morning.”
Dohoon looks up from the spot he’s applying ointment to, a scrape Jihoon didn’t realise he got as he tumbled out of Dohoon’s apartment earlier, and looks him straight in the eye.
He begins, carefully, “Is this about us being exes?”
Jihoon releases his hands from Dohoon’s, his voice dripping with impatience, “Well, what else could it be about?”
Dohoon doesn’t immediately reply to that, letting Jihoon’s words sink in. That’s when Jihoon finally takes in properly how different Dohoon looks. How much more muscle he carries in his arms. The sharpness of his jawline. He was always shorter than Dohoon, but he thinks the height difference has only grown larger since then. But the way he looks at Jihoon is the same—the same way that made his heart flutter the day he was confessed to in the school courtyard, the same way that made his heart break the day they broke up in the classrooms, the same way that made his heart pound when they locked eyes when meeting after 4 years.
The thought of that alone sends his heart rate skyrocketing, and his pushes himself off the stool and makes a run for Dohoon’s door— but he can’t figure out how to work the fucking fancy ass padlock so he just slides to the ground and hides his head between his knees.
He hears Dohoon’s footsteps drawn nearer, so he tucks his head even harder into himself. Then he hears Dohoon chuckle. His head tilts back up.
“Are you laughing at me?” He snaps.
Dohoon looks at him, his gaze so soft, and Jihoon realises even after all this time, Dohoon has never looked at him with anything but fondness.
“No,” Dohoon replies, lowering himself to the space in front of Jihoon, “I just think it’s cute you haven’t changed at all after all these years.”
Perhaps it was meant to be endearing—affectionate, maybe. It only sets off a fire in Jihoon’s heart, his eyes suddenly welling with the remainder of his high school self’s unshed tears.
“I’ve changed a lot, mind you! After you broke up with me, then ghosted me, and lost contact with all our friends, the only thing I could do was to change because I had no idea why you broke up with me. Do you even know what I went through when you broke up with me? No explanation, no nothing—I thought I was the problem all this time, and—” His voice breaks, tears rolling down his cheeks in waves as he rushes to hide behind his hands. He couldn’t cry, not like this.
A voice interrupts the sound of Jihoon’s shallow breathing, and suddenly he’s getting deja vu because the familiarity of the situation is impossible to ignore. Two hands reach for his cheek, and wipes off his falling tears—but they continue to fall, so there’s no use.
“I’m sorry, Jihoon.” He breathes, voice soft, but not hesitant. Soft in a way to protect Jihoon, like if he spoke any louder he’d break under his hold, “I don’t know how to explain myself. I don’t know where to begin, I—I want you to know I don’t regret sending you that message. I don’t regret—throwing shade at Hyoyeon from Girl’s Generation—and arguing with you the entire night. I’m so glad I did because I can’t imagine a life without you in it.”
Jihoon’s sobbing comes to a slow, though his sniffles are loud and uneven, “Why—Why did you break up with me, hyung?” He looks up from the floor, his eyes finally meeting Dohoon’s.
Dohoon moves to hold his hands, “Can I tell you why I broke up with you?”
Jihoon can only nod, hands gripping back onto Dohoon’s tightly.
“...When I was in high school,” He pauses, his eyes flashing with regret, “I didn’t want to hold you back—”
“That’s bullshit, hyung,” Jihoon interrupts.
“You had such big dreams, and I didn’t want a long distance relationship to come between your passions. And don’t lie, and say it wouldn’t, because you know you would miss out on dance practice if it meant sneaking out with me.”
“No, hyung,” Jihoon shakes his head, tears silently falling again, “You were my dream.”
At that, Dohoon’s expression flashes with hurt, unmeasurable pain—maybe something Jihoon would like to see fresh out of their relationship years ago, but now, it feels like bathing in salt with an open wound. Because Dohoon was right, he always was, anyways. When Dohoon became his boyfriend, he became his new dream.
A lone tear trickles down from Dohoon’s left eye, yet he has the audacity to ask Jihoon, “Don’t cry, please?” It doesn’t work, he’s crying harder.
“Hyung, I really missed you a lot.” He manages between sobs.
“I know, Jihoonie,” Dohoon replies with a sad smile. Despite his calm demeanor, Jihoon can feel his hands shaking in his grasp. And Jihoon remembers, Dohoon was just as hung up on his ex when they ‘first met’, too.
“Can you hug me?”
It doesn’t take more than a second until he can feel the warmth of Dohoon’s skin on his again, spreading from his skin, to his chest, into his heart. Warmth even touching fire couldn’t recreate—warmth he thought he’d never feel again. But it’s real— Dohoon, and the relief coursing through his veins. He never thought he’d ever come home.
“I’m sorry, Jihoon, for all this time, I want to—”
Jihoon shushes him by pulling him closer, finally reciprocating the hug he asked for. Dohoon can tell him the full story another day, but for now, he just wants to be near the person he loves most.
When the moon is high in the sky that night, and even the heater can’t catch up with Seoul’s chilly air, Dohoon’s bedroom door creaks open right as he’s about to turn off his lamp.
“Jihoon?”
“Can I stay here?”
Dohoon blinks at him, so Jihoon takes it as a hint to step back, gaze faltering slightly. And immediately, Dohoon corrects himself.
“You can stay—I just didn’t think…” His voice trails off, but neither of them comment on it.
Despite the fancy apartment, Dohoon still slept on a super single bed like back at home. Though, the mattress was a lot nicer. And that meant Jihoon could be pressed up against Dohoon again for the first time in a long time.
Dohoon takes the space near the wall, Jihoon crawling in just after and settling at his side.
“Are you going to cry again?” Dohoon asks, Jihoon isn’t facing him but he can hear the grin in his voice.
“No.” He replies, shuffling himself nearer to Dohoon. Now, he’s facing Dohoon. Close enough for Jihoon to count his eyelashes, and for Dohoon to breathe in the mole under his eye.
“Good,” Dohoon says, wrapping his arms around Jihoon. He pulls the blanket over Jihoon’s shoulder, then lets his head rest on his arm. Jihoon stares at him breathlessly the entire time. “Are you sure you’re not going to cry?” Dohoon asks again.
Jihoon chokes out a laugh, his smile wide. His chest doesn’t feel like it’s exploding anymore.
“No,” He replies again.
He tries to pull away from Dohoon, but is quickly blocked by his arm which tucks him closer to his chest. “What are you doing?” Jihoon laughs. He’s so near Dohoon that the warmth of his own giggles bounces back onto his own face.
“What I’ve been thinking of doing for the last 4 years.” Dohoon looks into Jihoon’s sleepy eyes with a small smile, and confesses, “There wasn’t a day I didn’t think of you, since I left.”
When Dohoon wakes up the next morning, Jihoon curled into his arms like a lovesick puppy, he takes it upon himself to update Hanjin appropriately. He carefully peels himself away from Jihoon, who lets out a distressed whine at the loss of contact, but then falls back asleep right after, to pick his phone up from his table.
When he’s back in bed with Jihoon snuggling up against him again, he quietly snaps a photo and sends it to Hanjin.
Dohoon clicks his tongue; Totally didn’t change, his password’s still the same.
◂ Hanjinieee♡ 📞🎥
[photo attachment ] |
don’t worry he’s alive |
| ?????
| HELLO
| WTFFF
11 months later.
It’s a Wednesday, and Jihoon’s at the kitchen island, clicking away at his keyboard. It’s one of those days where Dohoon doesn’t have classes bleeding into his evenings. And Jihoon? He knew dance majors had theory classes too, but this amount couldn't be necessary.
On the opposite side of the island, Dohoon is playing with the buttons on the oven, the crackling of whatever else he had on the stovetop acting as an hourglass of how long he had left until he burnt the house down.
Suddenly, a plate slides its way towards him, an eager looking Dohoon eyeing his reaction from behind his laptop screen.
Steak sliced up on a plate with baked asparagus is shaped into the outline of a heart, and gravy fills up the empty center with the words ‘Jihoooon♡Cute’
“Happy Anniversary!”
Jihoon pauses, his eyes flicking to the date on his laptop screen, February 14. Even after all these years, he could still describe the texture of those flowers in perfect detail.
When he looks back up at Dohoon, he doesn’t recognise the young boy who professed his love through a drenched bouquet of flowers and a ₩2,000 gift card from 7/11 anymore. But he will always recognise him in the way he looks at Jihoon, eyes full of love, shining with something he can’t name but he knows only glows when Jihoon is with him.
“Hyung, I didn’t get you anything!” Jihoon pouts, “The food looks really good…”
Dohoon struts over from across the island to wrap Jihoon in a tight back hug, “It’s okay; my greatest gift has always been being with you.”