Work Text:
The city was eerily quiet.
The bustling streets of Seoul, filled with passersby going to and from, had quieted down after the sun’s rays went down for the day. It was lovely to see strangers go from school or work back to their humble abode. It seemed everyone had a place to go back to, a sense of comfort after a long day, a place to de-stress.
But now that the sun had gone down, and the moonlight started creeping in on them—inch by inch—making its way to the highest point in the sky. Almost like a sliver of familiarity washing over you when crawling into bed and succumbing to the warmth underneath your blankets.
Now that midnight had encroached on them—the moon had reached its peak; hanging in glory at the apex of the atmosphere, glowing pale white among the dark sky while it watched over the now silent Seoul.
It was quiet—unruly so, he hadn’t expected the night to be as chaotic as the day since most people check out for the night, but the soundless night made the hairs on his arm prick up in unrest as he was battling an inner turmoil of anticipation, anxiety, and adrenaline all together. Something was bound to happen with the tranquil night falling over the city like a protective bubble—something was going to happen, he just couldn’t make out if it’d be tragic or freeing.
Joshua looked up toward the moon, admiring its beauty and the serenity of it. He reveled in the tranquility it brought on him, and for a moment he believed the luminous orb shone its light a tad brighter on him—as if to say it was there with him, and he felt slightly lighter, especially with the worst decision he was committing right around the corner.
Joshua looked down at his phone—12:17 A.M. He sighed, long and frustrated. He knew that he was being a fool, waiting outside his apartment complex, at midnight, for a person that he hadn't talked to in months.
He knew better than to pay attention to the message from a familiar number that appeared on his lock screen. (He hated himself for immediately recognizing the last four digits of the number despite his best effort of forgetting it.)
He knew better than to open the message and read it. But curiosity killed the cat, and he found himself scanning the message, reading it over and over again, overanalyzing all the words that he had chosen to say.
XXX-XXXX-0218
Come outside in ten minutes.
Those five words, those seemingly insignificant and trivial words, rammed into him like a crashing wave, thunderous and violent. Years' worth of memories resurged in his mind, and like an old-fashioned movie tape—everything played in his mind, ranging from years ago to recent months.
From the extreme highs—days like Joshua’s birthday being celebrated behind closed doors with breakfast in bed, limbs entangled with one another after a long evening, and soft murmurs of “happy birthday” and “I love you’s” filling the space in between them.
To the utmost lows that Joshua had ever experienced in his four years of dating and being apart from his greatest guilty pleasure. Nights like their first fight which had been building up throughout several weeks due to Joshua’s busy schedule and his partner’s neglectedness leading him to find comfort in other places.
He remembers the anger looming in the air and the never-ending scream matches—both men trying to get their point across but to no avail. He remembers the vexed words that came out of his mouth from irateness and the dejected words that followed, making him feel miserable for not balancing his life enough; yet made him feel annoyed, what right did he have to go from place to place with friends—drinking and letting people flirt with him because he felt lonely?
Joshua blinked away the rushing memories, shaking his head in dismay—he felt silly after such a seemingly long, intense moment. His old partner made him feel an emotion he hadn't felt in a long while, an emotion he had tried so hard to bury and leave behind in those evidently joyful, harsh days he used to love only to dread a few days later.
He definitely knew better than to reply to the message—it had been months since they last talked. Joshua had been doing better now, he started to allow himself to come to terms with his past relationship and how it was unhealthy for both of them despite his heart screaming at him to “run back.”
He stared at the message like it would surrender if he glared hard enough—retreat and vanish back into the void with its owner—but it stayed fixed on his screen, the words still arranged in the same way as before. It was laughable, so very riotous, what made him think he’d still bend at his every whim after months of not talking?
Joshua knows he shouldn’t have opened the message and let its recipient see the way the message went from “delivered” to “read” in the span of a few seconds. As clear as a warning sign, Joshua knows he shouldn’t reply, Jeonghan wouldn't let him hear the end of it—“Why would you do that?! You have to let that man go, Shua. It’s for your own good.”
He should know better—he does know better, but an all too familiar feeling was brewing inside of him. A feeling he had been pushing down for months whenever he’d see his face on friends’ posts and stories, when he’d hear his name in passing, and in the old photographs he had hidden on his phone.
Joshua knows better. He really, really does.
XXX-XXXX-0218
Come outside in ten minutes.
Don’t make me regret this.
Joshua had been lost in thought, thinking back on the decisions that had led him to fall back on habits he had tried so hard to let go of. But then again, old habits do die hard, so was he really to blame?
Before he could continue to wallow in his own pity party and puddle of misery at his very self-inflicted issues, he heard the quiet roar of a car come into his view before stopping right in front of him.
If it weren’t for the vehicle’s engine roar, he wouldn't have picked up the car's silent encroach towards him. Its driver was in the habit of driving without his headlights on whenever he rendezvoused to his apartment complex.
He never understood the reason for arriving at his door with no headlights—the phantom effect of it never hid their tracks. Maybe it did from the rest of the world, but between the two of them—the trail was as clear as day. He could always make out the longing and desire their footsteps left behind whenever it came to one of their secret outings.
Joshua folded his arms as he approached the awaiting car, the cool night air brushing against his cheeks. The passenger door unlocked with a soft click before he even reached it.
Joshua inhaled sharply at the sight waiting for him in the car. Seokmin sat behind the wheel, staring straight ahead into the dark night; his dark hair pushed up with effortless volume, the strands were swept slightly to the side—slightly tousled and disbelieved yet unbelievably controlled. The style accentuated his sharp features and made room to see his face more clearly.
His outfit didn't help his already thumping heart behind his ribcage in the slightest. He wore a white tank top that fitted his muscular body in ways that Joshua couldn’t handle after months of no contact.
As if that wasn’t enough, a loose white button-up hung over the tank, it lay open over Seokmin’s frame—it didn’t hide much, his broad, muscular frame laid beneath it, but the way the fabric dipped and revealed the sharp chiseled collarbones made him shudder with the car’s cool air.
His damn posture was the cherry on top. One hand was resting lazily on the steering wheel in nonchalance, while the other was draped against the armrest.
Joshua hated how effortlessly attractive he looked—he knew Seokmin hadn’t attempted to look presentable or striking for Joshua; he was simply sprezzatura.
Joshua hated how familiar it felt—how he was easily brought to his knees just by Seokmin’s handsomeness. How he easily let himself be stunted like a deer in headlights at a simple yet so extravagant look.
It made Joshua self-conscious of his own attire; he should’ve tried harder if Seokmin was going to effortlessly show him up. He had simply opted for a black hoodie and sweatpants—he didn’t even bother fixing his hair; letting the dark locks fall loosely over his forehead, a disheveled mess in comparison to Seokmin’s prim and proper.
He blinked away the thoughts, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in.
Seokmin glanced over, his eyes roamed all over his body like he was trying to find something, anything—perhaps a reaction at seeing Seokmin after months or seeing if his effortless good looks made Joshua’s heart drift from its natural pace.
He must’ve found what he wanted in his face, lips tugging into that same soft, bright smile that he gave whenever they were alone in times like these.
“Hi.”
Joshua rolled his eyes at his greeting, “We haven't talked in four months,” he said calmly, or as calmly as he could, “And your first thought is to say, ‘Hi’?”
Seokmin shrugged—shrugged—like he couldn't care less about being a little more decent given the situation at hand. Joshua stared as he removed the car from neutral; the car started and pulled slowly onto the empty road, headlights finally flicking on as they strolled into the quiet roads of the city.
It takes a few minutes for Seokmin to speak again, “I figured if I said anything else you’d leave before I could actually tell you the important part.”
Joshua hummed in acknowledgment. Seokmin wasn't wrong per se, he would leave Seokmin in the dust if he started their long-awaited meet up with some bullshit. Gosh. He hated how he still knew him well enough even after four months.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The sound of the engine could be heard in the small space between them, but it couldn't compare to the deafening sound of unsaid words and unexpressed feelings looming over them like an impending doom.
He could see Seokmin stealing glances at him through his peripheral vision. He could tell he was on the fence of saying something—anything to Joshua just to break the looming silence, but would bite his tongue, stopping himself from saying what was on his mind in case he set Joshua off.
Joshua leaned his head against his seat, staring out the window with folded arms, wondering how everything had seemed so perfect until it wasn't. How had the bliss and stability he had felt so forcefully with Seokmin like a steady heartbeat dissipate into ruin and constant push and pull.
He remembered a time when he and Seokmin were once portrayed as the “perfect” couple. They weren’t, not really but they came close enough that it felt true. He pondered when exactly their relationship started to shift from the idealized perfection to bracing for impact after every argument.
Joshua sighed, quiet and in defeat. “Where are we going?” he asked, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. If Seokmin wasn't willing to do it, might as well take the first step.
Seokmin must not have expected him to speak up—it was usually him who started off their talks. He took a minute to collect his thoughts before replying, “I have no place in mind” he said lightly, treading carefully, “Just driving around.”
Joshua snorted. He knew he shouldn’t expect much from Seokmin, especially after four months of radio silence, but he half expected Seokmin would have something planned for their midnight adventure. Of course, he didn't, Seokmin was still the same person he had last seen.
(Not that Joshua would ever admit it, not out loud—not even to himself, but a small part of himself had hoped for Seokmin to have something planned out for the two of them, just like old times. He wanted to believe Seokmin had thought this through, had planned something with deliberate care—that meeting tonight meant something to him.)
“Glad to see you haven’t changed much,” Joshua replies, irritation evident in his voice despite his best effort to hide it.
Seokmin didn’t answer with words, he knew that if Seokmin opened his mouth; they’d start a petty argument that was completely one-sided on Joshua’s part.
Seokmin wasn't at fault, he knew that. Joshua should know better by now; he shouldn’t raise his hopes up when it comes to Seokmin. Every time he did, he was the sole person who was left disappointed—left to brood in self-pity.
Seokmin chuckled at Joshua’s thinning patience. He glanced over briefly at Joshua, and there it was—that look. That disgustingly, beautiful James Dean look in his eye; absolutely troubled and dangerous yet captivating to the innocent.
It was too charming, the kind of look filled with longing and charisma that made you want to forgive and forget way too easily. And it wasn't like Seokmin was wild or troubled—he had believed he was sincere with his way too warm smile and his serene presence that made Joshua feel stable.
Obviously, now, those days had vanished into nothingness. So maybe Seokmin was wild and troubled now, with the number of times they seem to end on bad terms only to jump right back into old habits says enough about their intense love story.
(Seokmin was also a daydream. A magnificent one at that. He looked dreamy and unreal; his looks were enough for an innocent passerby to get whiplash and his personality—loud and amusing really tied the package deal. Maybe that was the reason Joshua allowed himself to be in a “round and round” relationship with Seokmin. He just couldn’t get enough.)
Joshua looked away from Seokmin, clearing his throat, “You’ve got some nerve to show up like this. I’ve heard things, you know?”
Seokmin huffed out a laugh, low and breathy, amusement evident in his words, “Oh really?”
“I heard that you've been out and out with some other guy,” Joshua scoffed, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
He knew he shouldn’t try to play the tough guy, that never worked out well for him. He remembers when he had heard from Jeonghan who had heard from Seungcheol that Seokmin started seeing another man.
He remembers he tried acting indifferent and unfazed about this information, especially since it had been a little over two months since they had “officially” ended things with each other. He had told Jeonghan he didn't care—Seokmin could do whatever the hell he wanted with whoever the hell he wanted.
(If he went out that night in the most sheerest, blinding clothing he could find in his closet in hopes of bringing someone home with him in his very drunken haze—no one mentioned it nor did he try to bring it up.)
The words hung in the small space of the car, lingering in the small cracks that their facades started showing. With every passing second that Seokmin took to answer, the air felt heavier until Joshua could barely breathe.
Seokmin exhaled slowly through his nose. “What you heard isn’t wrong.” He admitted quietly.
Joshua’s chest tightened and his breathing stilled, he had already known Seokmin started seeing other people after Joshua and that was fine, yet now hearing it come from Seokmin’s mouth—he couldn’t help but feel betrayed.
It was silly. Seokmin was his own person; he could do what he wanted to. But after years of their constant push and pull game, Joshua expected Seokmin to stay his for a while longer—not move on after two fucking months like he had meant nothing to him after everything they’ve gone through.
Joshua forced out a laugh, “Figures.”
“But,” Seokmin added, voice softer now, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Joshua didn’t respond, clearly not expecting such honesty from Seokmin. What could he possibly say? His mind went through every possible scenario.
“You can’t come back and say that to me,” he wanted to shout in frustration.
“Why do you always do this to me?” He wanted to ask.
“I hate you so fucking much,” he wanted to confess, but his body would betray him—immediately closing the distance between the two of them.
“I missed you too,” he’d say like a normal human being.
None of these words left his mouth; instead, he sat there, drowning in the weight of every unsaid word he wanted to yell out from the top of his lungs.
The silence stretched on, agonizing and heavy. Joshua stared outside the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of white and gold as they crossed the bridge out toward the edge of town.
Joshua leaned his head back against the seat, eyes closing for a moment as if shutting Seokmin out could quiet the words clawing at his throat.
“You’re unbelievable,” Joshua finally says.
“It’s the honest truth,” Seokmin replies and Joshua hates how he can’t hear anything other than gentleness and warmth that lace his words.
Joshua’s jaw tightened. “It’s always like that with you isn’t it?”
Seokmin chuckled under his breath.
Twenty minutes later, they reached Joshua’s apartment once more. The car’s lights were off and the street was still quiet like it had been an hour before.
Seokmin parked but didn’t turn the engine off right away. The low hum filled the silence between them, steady and evident.
Joshua unbuckled his seatbelt slowly. “So,” he said, voice flat, “that was your big midnight visit?” Joshua had expected more, but to be fair, he always expected more from Seokmin—just like Seokmin did too,
Seokmin turned toward him fully now, and up close Joshua noticed the little things he had missed when he first entered Seokmin’s car.
He noticed the faint color of tiredness under his eyes, had he not slept well recently or did the unrest of finally meeting Joshua again catch up to him?
Joshua also noticed the way Seokmin’s hair had grown slightly longer despite his careful styling, yet still looked undeniably ravishing like always.
And that same unyielding look was plastered all over Seokmin’s face—that same look he gave Joshua like as if nothing had changed. Like the four months they were apart hadn't happened with the added edition of a possible new ex.
“Take me home,” Seokmin said quietly.
Joshua raised an eyebrow. “You literally just drove me home.”
“You know what I mean.”
Joshua hesitated because of course, he knew what he meant and God. This was the damn problem.
Every time they went crashing down, every time they had an argument, every time they said they were done with each other—they somehow ended up right back here.
Seokmin would be the one reaching to fix things, as far as fixing goes with them, and Joshua would be at Seokmin’s disposal, pretending like he wasn’t already meeting Seokmin halfway.
Joshua hated how this always happened. Instead of going back to being healthy and stable, they continued playing their “round and round” relationship; when it was the farthest thing Joshua wanted from Seokmin.
Joshua wanted to go back to waking up with Seokmin beside him with an arm around his waist pulling him unbelievably closer to the warmth that radiated off Seokmin.
Joshua wanted to go back to making breakfast together, with lazy kisses in between each step that usually ended with their food almost being burnt from their activities.
Joshua wanted to go back to having “date night Fridays,“ where they would cancel work for each other. Where they would come back home, lips attached to one another, feet slowly descending to their bedroom, and heavy breaths seeping from their mouths with sweat running down their bodies.
Joshua wanted to go back to seeing Seokmin like his boyfriend instead of his “on and off” relationship. He wanted people to see them like the “perfect” couple they were before, but this time—it was fine to be imperfect, that’s what made them human.
Joshua just wanted his sunshine back, without him, every day seemed gloomy and tainted with yearning.
He was tired of it, so damn tired of it. But no matter how tired he was, he couldn’t do anything about it.
Joshua knew if they tried again, seriously, there was a high chance that they wouldn’t last more than three months. Conflicting schedules and anxiety would be the death of them like it always is.
They already don’t last more than three months while they’re “on,” and when they’re “off” they survive no more than two months without each other.
So, Joshua conforms to being happy with their current predicament. As long as he can have Seokmin in his life, he’s happy. Even if he longs for more, for what they used to have, Joshua will always think about Seokmin as a constant first.
So, with that, Joshua leans closer, resting one elbow on the center console. “You’re a disaster,” he murmured.
Seokmin smiled sadly at him. “Yeah.”
Joshua’s eyes lingered on him. “You drive me insane.”
“Also true.”
Joshua studied him for another moment, before letting out a long sigh. “You’re unbelievable.”
Seokmin tilted his head, leaning in just enough that their mouths nearly brushed. Seokmin held his gaze. “Is that a yes?”
Joshua opened the car door, stepping out. Cool air rushed in, brushing against his skin. He walked around the front of the car and stopped beside the driver’s door.
Seokmin rolled down the window, the soft whir filling Joshua’s mind as he was about to commit both the best and worst decision for the next three months.
Joshua leaned down slightly, meeting his eyes. “Are you coming up or are you just going to keep staring at me?”
Seokmin laughed softly, the sound low and familiar; it made something curl in Joshua’s stomach almost like nostalgia. Joshua stepped to the side, waiting for Seokmin to turn the engine off and step out of the car. When he does, Joshua hesitantly takes Seokmin’s hand in his and starts leading him towards his apartment's entrance.
Quiet giggles escape their lips as they make their way to Joshua’s room, and when they finally do arrive—like routine, hands start to roam across each other’s bodies while clothes slowly start to make a mess throughout Joshua’s apartment floor. Lips clash against each other, in a frivolous battle, both men trying to convey every unsaid word through their actions. “I love yous” and “I’ve missed you’s” escape from their mouths throughout the night with pretty little sounds accompanying them.
And just like that, they were falling back into old habits.
No matter how much it hurt to scream at each other during a messy argument that could’ve been avoided if Seokmin had just opened up and Joshua had reassured him.
No matter how much it hurt to see Seokmin’s life through pictures on a secret account Joshua had made to stalk him when they weren’t talking.
No matter how much it hurt to hear about Seokmin doing better without him there—present and next to him like it should’ve been since the beginning.
No matter how much it hurt to see each other again, in moments like these, to rekindle an old flame that they both knew wouldn't last.
They somehow always found their way back home like they never went out of style.