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Jun doesn’t mean to call.
That’s the thing he’ll tell himself later, when he’s staring at his call log like it’s evidence of a crime. When the sky is just starting to go that dim, bluish-grey that means morning is coming whether you’re ready for it or not.
He doesn’t mean to call.
But it’s Christmas Eve.
Or technically Christmas morning.
And he’s a little drunk, which is already a bad start.
And Dylan’s contact is still pinned.
Jun hasn’t had the heart to unpin it. Which is ridiculous, because it’s been nine months since they ended. Long enough that he should have learned how to exist without orbiting around someone who isn’t there anymore.
But Dylan’s name is still at the top of his phone like nothing ever happened.
Like Jun didn’t leave.
Like Dylan didn’t let him.
Jun stares at it for a long time.
His thumb hovers.
He locks his phone. Unlocks it again. Opens a different app. Closes it. Opens messages. Scrolls. Stops.
Dylan.
Pinned.
Untouched.
Jun exhales, slow and shaky, like that might settle something in his chest.
It doesn’t.
“Don’t,” he murmurs to himself, voice rough.
He presses call anyway.
—
Dylan is awake.
That’s the worst part.
If Dylan had been asleep, if it had gone straight to voicemail, Jun could’ve laughed it off tomorrow.
Pretended it didn’t matter.
Blamed the alcohol, the timing, the weather, the way everything feels a little more fragile in December.
But the line clicks.
And then—
“Jun.”
Just like that.
No confusion. No hesitation. As if Dylan’s been expecting him.
Jun’s throat tightens.
He almost hangs up.
“Hey,” Dylan says, softer this time. Careful. “Hey, are you okay?”
Jun lets out a breath that sounds more like a laugh than anything else. It isn’t funny.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Of course it isn’t.
Dylan was always like that. Cutting straight through whatever Jun tried to hide behind.
Jun leans back against the wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor, phone pressed too tightly to his ear.
There’s a pause.
Then, quieter, almost like Dylan’s afraid of the answer,
“Did something happen?”
Jun closes his eyes.
“Nothing happened,” he mumbles. “I just—”
He stops himself.
Because what is he supposed to say?
Merry Christmas, I miss you.
Merry Christmas, I thought I was over you but apparently, I’m not.
Merry Christmas, I hate that you’re still the first person I think of when things get quiet.
“I was at a party,” Jun settles on. “It just ended.”
Dylan hums.
“I had a drink. Or… a few,” Jun continues.
Dylan huffs, faintly amused, “I can tell.”
Jun smiles despite himself. It feels wrong, how easy that is.
“Shut up,” he shoots back, though there was no real bite to it.
“Make me.”
The words slip out before Dylan can stop them.
They both go quiet.
Because that used to be everything.
Jun swallows hard.
“Sorry,” Dylan adds quickly. “That was—”
“No,” Jun interrupts, a little too fast. “It’s fine.”
But it’s not fine.
It’s too easy. That’s the problem.
They fall into it like nothing’s changed, like they didn’t spend months learning how to live without each other.
Jun presses his head back against the wall.
“You’re awake,” he says, because it’s safer than anything else.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
A beat.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Dylan sighs.
Jun lets out a quiet, humourless laugh.
“Same.”
There’s something fragile in the space between them now. Something that wasn’t there before everything broke.
Dylan used to fill silences. Now he handles them like glass.
“Jun,” he pipes up after a moment, careful again, “why did you call me?”
There it is.
Jun stares at the ceiling.
“I told you,” he says lightly. “I was drunk.”
“Jun.”
Jun exhales slowly.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I just…”
His voice falters.
He hates that. Hates that Dylan still has this effect on him, like he’s one wrong word away from coming apart.
“I thought of you,” he continues, quiet.
There’s a long pause.
Jun almost laughs again, sharper this time.
“Don’t worry,” he adds quickly. “It’s not—this isn’t me trying to—”
“Jun.”
Dylan’s voice is different now. Lower. Unsteady in a way Jun’s only heard a handful of times.
“Yeah?”
“I think about you all the time.”
Jun’s breath catches.
Oh.
He wasn’t expecting that.
“That’s…” Jun starts, then trails off, because he has no idea what to do with that.
Dylan exhales, like he’s said too much.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s just—” Jun sits up a little, heart starting to beat too fast. “Why didn’t you…”
Call?
Text?
Come find me?
Fight for us?
Jun bites the inside of his cheek.
He knows the answer.
Because Jun left.
Because Jun was the one who said, ‘this isn’t working’ when he really meant ‘I’m scared of how much I need you’.
Dylan doesn’t answer the unfinished question.
Instead, quietly,
“You told me not to.”
Jun shuts his eyes.
Right.
He did.
“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice barely there. “I did.”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Outside, somewhere in the distance, someone is setting off fireworks too early, or too late. It’s hard to tell.
Jun listens to Dylan breathe.
It’s ridiculous, how familiar that still is.
“Hey,” Dylan says after a while.
“Yeah?”
“Merry Christmas.”
Jun lets out a soft, broken laugh.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Merry Christmas.”
He should hang up.
This is the part where he hangs up. Where he says goodnight, where he lets this stay what it is.
Merely a moment of weakness, and nothing more.
Instead, he speaks, barely above a whisper,
“I miss you.”
The silence on the other end is immediate and deafening.
Jun’s heart pounds.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he adds quickly, panic creeping in. “Forget I said that, I just—”
“I miss you too.”
Jun goes still.
Dylan’s voice is quiet, but there’s no hesitation in it this time.
No taking it back.
No softening the edges.
Jun swallows hard.
“Okay,” he mutters, because that’s all he can manage.
“Okay,” Dylan echoes.
Neither of them moves to end the call.
They just stay there.
Breathing.
Listening.
Existing in the same space again, even if it’s only through a thin line and a bad decision made at 4.13 AM.
“Jun?” Dylan says after a while.
“Yeah?”
“Are you still coming back after the holidays?”
Jun’s chest tightens.
He wasn’t planning to.
He was planning to stay away a little longer. Give himself more time. More distance. More space to forget.
He looks at the call timer.
At Dylan’s name.
At the way it still feels like something unfinished.
“…I don’t know,” he says honestly.
A pause.
“Okay,” Dylan says.
But it doesn’t sound like okay.
Jun exhales.
“Would you…” he starts, then stops.
“Would I what?”
Jun stares at the floor.
“If I did,” he speaks slowly, “would you want to see me?”
The question hangs there, heavy and impossible to take back.
Dylan doesn’t hesitate.
“Yeah,” he says with certainty. “I would.”
Jun’s throat tightens.
“Okay,” he whispers.
They don’t define it.
They don’t fix anything.
They don’t promise.
But they both feel something shift, small, dangerous, and hopeful all at once.
Outside, the sky is getting lighter.
Inside, Jun is still sitting on the floor, phone pressed to his ear, heart somewhere between breaking and starting again.
“Hey,” Dylan whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Next time,” he murmurs, “maybe don’t wait until Christmas to call me.”
Jun huffs a quiet laugh.
“No promises.”
“Figures.”
A beat.
“Stay on the line?” Dylan asks.
Jun closes his eyes.
“Yeah,” he exhales. “Okay.”
And this time, he doesn’t pretend it was an accident.
—
Jun almost doesn’t go.
That should count for something.
He stands in front of his suitcase for a long time, staring at it like it might make the decision for him.
His flight back was supposed to be next week. That had been the plan.
More time, more distance, more pretending he was fine.
Instead, he’s here.
Three days after the call.
Back too early.
Back because—
He doesn’t finish that thought.
Jun zips his bag.
—
The city feels the same.
That’s the first thing he notices.
Same streets, same turns, same stupid corner café that Dylan insisted had the best coffee in existence (it doesn’t). Same bus stops, same late afternoon light catching on glass buildings like nothing ever changes.
Jun hates that.
Or maybe he loves it. He can’t tell.
His phone feels heavier than usual in his pocket.
He hasn’t texted Dylan.
Dylan hasn’t texted him.
Which is expected.
Terrifying.
Fair.
Jun stops outside his apartment building and exhales slowly.
He could still walk away.
Go somewhere else. Delay it. Pretend this isn’t happening yet.
Instead, he pulls out his phone.
Opens their chat.
Still pinned.
Still quiet.
Jun types, deletes, types again.
jun
i'm back.
He stares at the message for a full ten seconds before hitting send.
The reply comes almost immediately.
dyl
yeah?
Jun’s heart stutters.
He huffs a quiet breath, thumbs hovering.
jun
yeah.
A pause.
Then—
dyl
can i see you?
No small talk. No easing into it.
Jun closes his eyes.
Of course.
jun
...okay
dyl
now?
Jun glances up at his building, then back down at his phone.
There’s a moment where he considers saying no. Later. Tomorrow. Somewhere safer, somewhere that doesn’t feel like stepping directly back into something unfinished.
But instead:
jun
yeah. okay.
—
They meet halfway.
A quiet street between familiar places. Not quite Jun’s, not quite Dylan’s. Somewhere in between, like they are.
Jun gets there first.
He regrets it immediately.
Waiting gives him too much time to think. To replay the call. To overanalyse every word, every pause, every “I miss you” that slipped out too easily.
He shoves his hands into his coat pockets.
He breathes in.
Out.
In.
“Hey.”
Jun turns.
And Dylan is exactly the same.
Same face, same posture, same way he stands like he belongs wherever he is.
But there’s something tighter around the edges now. Something more careful in the way he looks at Jun, like he’s approaching something fragile.
Like Jun might break.
Jun almost laughs.
“Hey,” he echoes.
They don’t hug.
That’s the first immediate absence.
They used to, always. Without thinking.
Now they just stand there, a few feet apart, like there’s an invisible line neither of them know how to cross.
“You cut your hair,” Dylan smiles.
Jun blinks.
“Yeah.”
“It looks—” Dylan stops himself, recalibrates. “Different.”
Jun huffs softly.
“Good different or bad different?”
Dylan’s mouth twitches.
“…good.”
Jun nods, like that settles something.
“It’s shorter,” he says, unnecessarily.
Dylan nods, fighting back a smile, “I can see that.”
A beat.
God, this is awkward.
Jun shifts his weight.
“So,” he says. “Hi.”
Dylan lets out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh.
“Hi.”
Silence again.
But it’s full of everything they’re not saying.
You left.
You let me.
I missed you.
I didn’t stop.
Jun looks at him properly this time.
“Are you—” he starts, then catches himself.
Dylan tilts his head.
“Am I what?”
Jun shrugs, suddenly unsure.
“I don’t know. Different?”
Dylan considers that.
“Probably.”
Jun nods.
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
“Do you want to walk?” Dylan asks.
Jun exhales, relieved to do something instead of just stand there unravelling.
“Yeah. Okay.”
—
They fall into step beside each other.
But not too close.
And not touching either.
Jun notices everything.
The way Dylan still walks slightly ahead without meaning to. The way he glances over like he’s checking Jun is still there. The way their pace syncs up after a few steps, automatic, muscle memory.
It’s awful.
And it’s too easy.
“Did you,” Dylan starts, then hesitates.
Jun glances at him.
“Did I what?”
Dylan looks forward again.
“Did you have a good holiday?”
Jun lets out a quiet laugh.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Sure.”
“Right, 'sure’ sounds convincing.”
“It was fine,” Jun corrects. “Busy. Loud. Lots of people asking me what I’m doing with my life.”
Dylan hums.
“Classic.”
Jun raises an eyebrow, “What about you?”
Dylan shrugs.
“Stayed home.”
Jun nods.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
A beat.
Then—
“It was quiet.”
Jun’s chest tightens.
He knows what that means.
He doesn’t say anything.
They walk a little further.
Dylan speaks up again, “Why did you come back early?”
Jun stops.
Dylan stops a step later, turning slightly.
There it is.
The question underneath everything.
Jun looks at him.
Really looks this time.
“I told you,” he says lightly. “I didn’t—”
“Jun.”
Jun exhales.
Of course.
He looks down at the pavement, then back up.
“You asked if I was coming back,” he admits slowly.
Dylan’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes shift.
“Yeah.”
“And you sounded like—” Jun stops, searching for the word. “Like it mattered.”
“It does.”
Simple.
Immediate.
Jun’s throat tightens.
“Yeah,” he mumbles quietly. “I figured.”
Dylan takes a small step closer.
Not enough to touch.
But just enough to feel it.
“Is that why?” he asks.
Jun hesitates, “…partly.”
Dylan waits.
Jun huffs a soft breath.
“You said you missed me,” he admits again.
Dylan’s gaze doesn’t waver.
“I meant it.”
“I know," Jun swallows. “That’s kind of the problem.”
“Yeah,” Dylan says. “I figured.”
They stand there, closer now, the space between them thinner, charged.
Jun’s heart is doing something deeply unhelpful.
“You didn’t argue,” he speaks suddenly.
Dylan blinks.
“What?”
“When I left,” Jun clarifies. “You didn’t…try to stop me.”
There it is.
The thing that’s been sitting between them since the beginning.
Dylan exhales slowly.
“I wanted to.”
Jun’s chest aches.
“Then why didn’t you?”
Dylan meets his gaze.
“Because you looked like if I did, you’d hate me for it.”
Jun goes very still.
“That’s not—”
“It is,” Dylan whispers gently. “You’d already made up your mind.”
Jun opens his mouth.
Closes it.
Because—
Maybe.
Maybe he had.
“I thought you didn’t care enough to fight for it,” Jun admits, quieter now.
Dylan’s expression shifts, something raw breaking through the careful composure.
“Jun,” he says, almost incredulous, “I was trying to respect you.”
Oh.
That lands somewhere deep and uncomfortable.
Jun looks away.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Well.”
Silence settles again, heavier this time.
But clearer.
Less guessing. More truth.
Jun exhales slowly.
“I didn’t want you to let me go that easily,” he admits.
Dylan laughs softly, but there’s no humour in it.
“It wasn’t easy.”
Jun glances back at him.
Dylan’s eyes are steady.
“I just didn’t know if you wanted me to stay.”
Jun’s chest tightens.
He takes a small step forward.
Now they’re close.
“I didn’t know either,” Jun mutters.
Dylan’s gaze flicks down briefly to Jun’s mouth, his hands, the space between them, and then back up.
“Do you know now?”
Jun’s breath catches.
He could lie.
He could deflect.
He could say 'I don’t know' and buy himself more time.
Instead, he nods, “…yeah.”
Dylan doesn’t move.
“Yeah?” he echoes.
Jun nods again, barely.
“Yeah.”
A beat.
Then Dylan closes the distance.
Not rushed.
Like he’s giving Jun time to pull away if he wants to.
But Jun doesn’t.
Their hands brush first.
Accidental.
But not really accidental.
Jun inhales sharply.
Dylan’s fingers hesitate, then curl slightly, like he’s asking a question without words.
Jun answers by not moving away.
By letting it happen.
By turning his hand just enough so their fingers fit.
It’s not a full handhold.
Not yet.
But it’s something for now.
And it’s enough to make Jun’s heart feel like it might give out.
Dylan exhales, almost like relief.
“Okay,” he murmurs.
Jun lets out a quiet, shaky laugh.
“Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”
Dylan squeezes his hand, just once.
“Stay?” he asks softly.
Jun looks at him.
At the familiar, unfamiliar lines of his face.
At the way he’s asking, this time.
Jun nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “I think I will.”
And this time, he means it.
—
They don’t plan for it to happen that night.
That’s important.
Or at least Jun tells himself that later, when he’s lying awake replaying everything in too much detail.
Because after that moment, after the almost-handhold, after the quiet ‘stay?’, they don’t rush.
They walk.
They talk, a little.
Nothing too big. Nothing too dangerous.
Safe things.
Work. People they both know. That stupid café again, which Dylan still insists is good and Jun still refuses to agree with.
They laugh, once or twice.
It feels normal.
Which is worse, somehow.
Because underneath it, everything else is still there. Waiting. Pressing just beneath the surface.
By the time they stop, it’s late.
They’ve somehow circled back closer to Jun’s place.
Neither of them comments on it.
Jun shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels.
“So,” he says.
“So,” Dylan echoes.
They stand there.
Again.
Always this part.
The space where something must be decided.
Jun exhales slowly.
“I should—” he starts, gesturing vaguely toward his building.
“Yeah,” Dylan nodded.
But he doesn’t move.
Jun doesn’t either.
There’s a beat.
Another.
“Jun,” Dylan whispers.
Jun looks up.
“Yeah?”
Dylan hesitates.
And that’s new.
Dylan didn’t used to hesitate like this. Not with him.
“What are we doing?” he asks.
Jun swallows.
“I don’t know,” he admits.
Dylan nods once.
“Okay.”
“But I don’t want to pretend this is nothing,” Jun adds quickly.
Dylan’s gaze sharpens, just slightly.
“Yeah,” he smiles. “Me neither.”
Jun’s heart is beating too fast again.
“This—” he gestures between them, frustrated at his own lack of words. “This doesn’t feel like nothing.”
“No,” Dylan agrees softly. “It doesn’t.”
Silence.
But this time, it’s the kind that builds.
Jun steps a little closer.
He doesn’t think about it too hard.
Because if he does, he’ll stop.
Dylan’s eyes flicker down, then back up.
“Jun,” he says, a warning and a question all at once.
“I know,” Jun whispers.
He doesn’t.
But he moves anyway.
He closes the distance just enough that he can feel Dylan’s breath, warm against the cold air.
This is a bad idea.
Jun reaches up, fingers brushing lightly against Dylan’s sleeve first, like he’s testing it.
Like he’s making sure this is real.
Dylan stills.
But doesn’t pull away.
Jun’s hand slides up, slower now, more certain, until it rests lightly at Dylan’s wrist.
Their eyes meet.
“Are you sure?” Dylan asks, voice low.
Jun huffs a soft, shaky breath.
“No,” he admits.
“But I don’t think I’ve ever been sure about anything.”
Dylan lets out something that might be a laugh, might be something else entirely.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “That tracks.”
Jun’s thumb brushes, barely, over Dylan’s pulse.
Fast.
It’s not just him, then.
“Tell me to stop,” Jun mumbles.
Dylan doesn’t hesitate.
“I won’t.”
That does it.
Jun closes the last inch.
The first touch is almost nothing.
Just the faintest brush of lips, like they’re both still asking permission.
It’s soft.
Careful.
A question.
Jun exhales into it, heart stuttering. And when Dylan doesn’t pull away, when he leans in just slightly, silently answering, something in Jun gives.
The second kiss isn’t careful.
It was real.
Much fuller.
Like they’ve both stopped pretending this is something they can control.
Jun’s hand slides up, fingers curling lightly at the back of Dylan’s neck.
Dylan’s hand finds his waist, hesitant for half a second before settling, grounding.
They fit.
They still fit like nothing changed.
Jun makes a quiet sound against Dylan’s mouth, something between relief and disbelief, and Dylan’s grip tightens just slightly in response.
“Hey,” Dylan murmurs, pulling back just enough that their foreheads almost touch.
Jun chases the distance instinctively.
“Don’t,” he whines.
Dylan huffs a breath, almost amused, but his voice is soft.
“I just—”
He stops.
Jun opens his eyes.
Dylan looks undone.
Open.
More than Jun’s seen him in a long time.
“This is a bad idea,” Dylan admits quietly.
Jun nods immediately, “Yeah.”
Neither of them move.
“Okay,” Dylan adds.
“Okay,” Jun responds.
A beat.
Then Dylan leans in again.
So much for that.
This kiss is different.
Slower.
Deeper.
Less question, more knowing.
Jun melts into it before he can stop himself, before he can remind himself of all the reasons this is complicated, messy, and potentially disastrous.
His other hand comes up, resting against Dylan’s chest, feeling the steady, too-fast rhythm underneath.
Dylan pulls him closer.
Like he doesn’t want there to be space anymore.
Jun exhales against him, and it feels like something unravels, something he’s been holding tight for months finally loosening.
They break apart again, breathing uneven.
Jun laughs softly, a little dazed.
“Well,” he chuckles.
Dylan smiles, small but genuine.
“Yeah.”
Jun looks at him, really looks.
“You still kiss the same,” he smiles.
Dylan raises an eyebrow.
“Good same or bad same?”
Jun huffs, “Shut up.”
Dylan’s smile widens, just slightly.
“Make me.”
A pause.
Then, “I missed this,” Dylan sighed.
Jun’s chest tightens.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Me too.”
They don’t rush into another kiss immediately.
Instead, they stay close.
But far too close to be casual.
Jun’s hand is still resting against Dylan’s chest.
Dylan’s thumb is absentmindedly brushing along Jun’s side.
Small things.
But they add up.
They always did.
“Jun,” Dylan says after a moment.
“Yeah?”
“We should—” he starts.
“Be careful?” Jun finishes.
Dylan nods.
“Yeah.”
Jun considers that.
“…but we won’t be,” he smiles.
Dylan lets out a quiet laugh.
“No,” he agrees. “We won’t.”
Jun leans in again, softer this time, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of Dylan’s mouth.
Dylan’s hand tightens slightly in response.
“That’s already not careful,” he murmurs.
Jun shrugs, faintly.
“Too late.”
A beat.
Dylan studies him.
“You’re different,” he says.
Jun tilts his head.
“This again?”
“Yeah.”
Jun huffs softly.
“Good different or bad different?”
Dylan doesn’t hesitate this time.
“Better.”
Jun’s breath catches.
“Oh.”
Dylan’s gaze softens.
“Yeah.”
Something warm settles in Jun’s chest.
“Hey,” Jun says.
“Yeah?”
“I think I—”
He stops.
Because that’s a dangerous sentence.
Dylan doesn’t push.
Doesn’t rush him.
Jun exhales slowly.
“—I think I want to try again,” he finishes.
Dylan nods immediately.
“Okay.”
Jun searches his face.
“That’s it?”
Dylan’s mouth curves slightly.
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” Jun admits. “Something more dramatic, maybe.”
Dylan huffs a laugh.
“I can do dramatic if you want.”
“Please don’t.”
“Okay, good, because I wasn’t going to.”
Jun smiles.
This is dangerous.
And right.
And terrifying.
And so worth it.
Dylan squeezes his side lightly.
“One condition,” he says.
Jun raises an eyebrow.
“Wow. There it is.”
“Shut up,” Dylan mutters. “It’s not a big one.”
“Okay. What?”
Dylan meets his eyes.
“Next time you feel like running,” he says quietly, “tell me first.”
Jun’s chest tightens.
“That’s not a small condition.”
Dylan shrugs.
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
Jun considers that.
Then nods.
“…okay.”
A beat.
“Same goes for you,” he adds.
Dylan smiles, softer this time.
“Deal.”
They stand there a little longer.
Close.
Warm despite the cold.
Unsteady, but no longer pretending they’re standing on solid ground.
Jun leans in one more time, pressing a quick, almost shy kiss to Dylan’s lips.
Just because he can.
Just because he wants to.
Dylan exhales, like he’s still getting used to that being allowed again.
“Stay?” Jun asks this time.
Dylan doesn’t even pretend to think about it.
“Yeah,” he smiles.
And when they walk toward Jun’s building, this time, they don’t leave space between them.
—
Jun wakes up slowly, in pieces.
First, the light.
Soft and pale, slipping through the curtains in that gentle, early-morning way that makes everything feel quieter than it is.
Then, warmth.
Close. Steady.
Then, the realisation.
Jun goes very still.
There’s an arm around his waist.
Familiar in a way that makes something in his chest ache before it even fully settles.
Jun exhales carefully.
Right.
Dylan.
Last night.
The walk, the conversation, the kiss that turned into another, and then another, and then—
Jun closes his eyes briefly.
Okay.
So that happened.
He doesn’t move right away.
Partly because he doesn’t want to wake Dylan.
But mostly because he doesn’t want to break this yet.
There’s something fragile about mornings like this. Like if you shift too fast, everything might snap back into something more complicated.
Jun turns his head slightly.
Dylan is still asleep.
Or mostly.
His breathing is slow, even. His face relaxed in a way Jun hasn’t seen in a long time, all the careful edges from yesterday softened.
Jun studies him.
It’s almost unfair, how familiar this feels.
Like no time has passed at all.
Like all those months in between were just paused.
Jun’s gaze drifts, taking in small things.
The way Dylan’s hair is a little messier than usual. The faint crease at the corner of his mouth. The way his hand is curled loosely against Jun’s side, thumb resting just slightly higher, like it got there without thinking.
Jun’s chest tightens.
He missed this.
Not just the big things.
Not just the kissing, the closeness, the feeling of being wanted.
This.
The quiet.
The way Dylan always runs warm, like a human radiator, which Jun used to complain about constantly and is now very much not complaining about.
Jun lets out a slow breath.
Dylan shifts.
Jun freezes instinctively.
But the arm around him doesn’t move away.
If anything, it tightens slightly.
“Stop thinking so loud,” Dylan mumbles, voice rough with sleep.
Jun blinks.
“…I wasn’t”
“You were,” Dylan murmurs, eyes still closed. “I can tell.”
Jun huffs a quiet laugh.
“Yeah? How?”
Dylan cracks one eye open, just barely.
“You go all stiff,” he says. “Like you’re about to make a bad decision.”
Jun snorts softly.
“That’s rude.”
“But not wrong.”
Jun rolls his eyes, but something in his chest loosens at the familiarity of it.
Dylan’s gaze lingers on him for a moment longer.
Then, he whispers, “You okay?”
Jun nods, small but real.
“Yeah.”
Dylan studies him, like he’s checking for cracks.
“…yeah?” he echoes.
Jun hesitates.
“Yeah,” he says again, more certain this time. “I think so.”
Dylan hums quietly, satisfied enough.
“Okay.”
He shifts slightly, adjusting his arm without pulling away.
Closer, if anything.
Jun’s breath catches, just a little.
“You’re not freaking out,” Dylan adds, like he’s surprised by it.
Jun huffs.
“Give me a minute. I just woke up.”
Dylan’s mouth twitches.
“Fair.”
A pause.
“I was expecting you to bolt,” Dylan teased.
Jun winces.
“Wow. Okay.”
“I’m just saying.”
Jun sighs, but there’s no real bite to it.
“I thought about it,” he admits.
Dylan raises an eyebrow.
“Seriously?”
Jun shrugs, a little sheepish.
“Briefly.”
Dylan watches him.
“And?”
Jun glances down, then back up.
“I didn’t want to.”
The words settle between them.
Dylan’s expression softens, something almost like relief flickering through.
“Okay,” he says.
Jun nudges him lightly with his elbow.
“You keep saying that.”
Dylan huffs.
“It’s a good word.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah,” Dylan says. “Means I’m not overthinking it.”
Jun smiles faintly.
“That’s new.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
A beat.
“I just—” Dylan stops, like he’s choosing his words more carefully than usual. “I don’t want to mess this up again.”
Jun’s chest tightens.
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Me neither.”
They fall into a comfortable silence.
Jun shifts slightly, turning more onto his side so he’s facing Dylan properly now.
Their legs brush.
Neither of them pulls away.
Dylan’s hand slides, almost absentmindedly, from Jun’s side to his back, resting there like it belongs.
Jun’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“You stayed,” he says.
Dylan blinks.
“Yeah?”
Jun shrugs, like it’s nothing.
“You could’ve left.”
Dylan frowns slightly.
“Why would I do that?”
Jun huffs.
“I don’t know. Avoid the morning after. Avoid this whole—” he gestures vaguely between them.
Dylan watches him, something steady in his gaze.
“I didn’t want to avoid it.”
Simple.
Direct.
Jun swallows.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Okay.”
Then Dylan shifts closer and presses a quick, quiet kiss to Jun’s forehead.
Jun stills.
“You’re thinking again,” Dylan murmurs.
Jun exhales, a small, helpless laugh escaping.
“Yeah,” he admits.
Dylan’s thumb brushes lightly against his back.
“About what?”
Jun hesitates.
“About how this feels…” he trails off.
Dylan waits.
Jun searches for the right word.
“…different.”
Dylan nods slowly.
“Yeah.”
Jun looks at him.
“Better,” he adds.
Dylan’s mouth curves slightly.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Better.”
A quiet moment passes.
Then Jun leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Dylan’s mouth.
Dylan responds immediately, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, one hand coming up to cup lightly at the side of Jun’s neck.
It’s slower than last night.
Less overwhelming.
But deeper in a different way.
Like they’re not trying to prove anything anymore.
Jun pulls back just slightly, resting his forehead against Dylan’s.
“I think I’m in trouble,” he murmurs.
Dylan huffs a quiet laugh, tilting his head, brushing their noses together.
“Good,” he says softly.
Jun blinks.
“That’s a weird response.”
Dylan smiles, small and warm.
“It means ‘I am too’.”
Jun’s chest does something stupid and soft.
“Oh.”
Then, before he can overthink it—
“I think I’m falling for you again,” Jun admits.
The words come out quieter than he expects.
But steady.
Real.
Dylan doesn’t flinch.
He just looks at him.
“Yeah,” he says.
Jun’s breath catches.
“Yeah?”
Dylan nods.
“Yeah,” he repeats. “Me too.”
Jun exhales, something in him settling into place.
“Okay,” he sighs softly.
Dylan smiles.
“There it is again.”
Jun rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too.
“Shut up.”
Dylan leans in, kissing him again.
Brief, warm, lingering just enough to make Jun’s fingers curl slightly into the sheets.
When they part, Dylan stays close.
“Hey,” he starts.
“Yeah?”
“Let’s do it better this time.”
Jun studies him.
The sincerity. The steadiness. The way he’s not holding back.
“Okay,” Jun smiles.
And this time, it doesn’t feel fragile.
It feels like something that can last.