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It was never meant to be something this big. At least, that’s what they had both thought when they first met. They met because of a dorm assignment—two strangers thrown together by chance, handed the same key to the same door.
It was supposed to be temporary, just a shared space for one year. And yet, somehow, four years later, Jaehyun found himself packing up a life he had never expected to build—never expected to share.
Sungho leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and lips pressed tightly in a line. He wasn’t helping, not really. In fact, for the past few days, all Sungho had done was simply watch. All he had done was just stand there, refusing to offer a hand while Jaehyun packed up his things, for if he didn’t touch anything, didn’t acknowledge the half-empty apartment around them, none of this would actually happen.
Jaehyun had pretended not to notice. He focused on folding the last of his clothes, stuffing them into his suitcase with more force than necessary. He let out a sigh as he zipped up his suitcase, the sound slicing through the silence.
Behind him, Sungho shifted at the noise. His fingers gripped the sleeve of his shirt tightly, fighting the urge to let go and reach out to Jaehyun instead. He let out a slow exhale, eyes never leaving Jaehyun’s figure.
“This place is gonna be weird without you.” He finally spoke out loud. His voice was quieter than usual, missing its usual playful edge.
Jaehyun didn’t look up from his bag. His voice clipped, words detached. “You’ll survive.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sungho forced out a small, humorless laugh. "Really, though. I’m being serious."
Jaehyun finally pulled up from his place on the ground. “So am I.”
He turned and finally made eye contact with Sungho, lips tugging up into a weak cheeky smile. “You lived eighteen years without me. Surely, you can live another few without me.”
Sungho let out a small snicker, shaking his head in fondness. He pushed off from the doorframe, stepping a little closer.
“I guess so…” Sungho started, his eyes flicking to the half-packed apartment, then back to Jaehyun. “I just think I got too used to this being the normal, you know? Never thought I’d actually have to live without you.”
“It just—” Sungho hesitated for a moment. “It feels like we should’ve had more time.”
Jaehyun opened his mouth to respond, but the words stalled on his tongue. They’d said everything without saying anything, and yet nothing was clear. Instead, he settled on a soft, half-smile.
“I know. I get it,” Jaehyun said after a beat. His words felt heavier now, weighted by something more than simple resignation. He cleared his throat, “But what’s the point of dwelling over this now?”
He moved to grab his jacket from the edge of his bed, itching to change the conversation. “You ready to go?”
Sungho’s eyes followed Jaehyun’s movements, but he didn’t answer immediately. There was a pause, a moment where Sungho couldn’t help but wish that Jaehyun would stop avoiding the conversation for once, but it wasn’t like he was much to talk either. If Jaehyun didn’t want to talk about it, then neither did he.
“Yeah,” Sungho let out a soft, breathy laugh, an effort to shake off the weight of the conversation. “Yeah, just need to put on my coat.”
He glanced at the jacket Jaehyun was holding in his hands. “You might wanna swap that out for a warmer one. It’s supposed to be pretty chilly out.”
Jaehyun shrugged. “Everything else is packed.”
Sungho half-heartedly rolled his eyes, pulling away from the doorway and into the living room where he had placed his coat. Jaehyun quietly shuffled out of his room behind him, eyes focused on the way Sungho’s hair peeked out from under his beanie.
“Isn’t that overkill?” Jaehyun nodded towards Sungho’s head when he turned to look at him.
Sungho scoffed. “We’ll see if it’s overkill once you start complaining about how your ears are about to fall off.”
They’d been through this before. They’d been through everything before. Every simple moment in life felt like a routine, as if they’d danced through this sequence a million times before, and they had.
( “My ears,” Jaehyun cupped his hands against his ears. “Sungho, did my ears fall off?”
Sungho turned around, a loud laugh escaping his lips at the sight of Jaehyun—rosy cheeks and a pout on his lips. Lashes wet from snowflakes settling on the hairs and melting into water.
“Sungho!” His pout deepened. “Don’t laugh at me. This is serious.”
Sungho rolled his eyes, shoulders still slightly shaking as he tried to contain his laughter. “No, Jaehyun, your ears did not fall off.”
Jaehyun removed his hands, exposing his red ears. Sungho couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter that slipped past his lips again.
Jaehyun’s pout turned into a frown, whining out Sungho’s name in despair. “You said it wouldn’t be this cold.”
Sungho’s laughter stopped, his mouth stuck open in an expression of shock. “Me? I said that?”
Jaehyun bit his lip to hide his smile, nodding. “Mhm.”
“I did not!” Sungho’s eyebrows shot up. “I told you that it was gonna snow! Snow means cold! I told you it was going to be cold, Jaehyun! You’re the one who said ‘whatever, I can handle it.’”
Jaehyun laughed loudly at the poor impression of himself. “I do not sound like that!”
“Whatever.” Sungho turned around, eyes searching the intersection in the distance. “Where the hell is this bus?”
Silence engulfed them, nothing but the sound of cars driving past them keeping them company. A beat passed and a weight fell against Sungho’s shoulder. Jaehyun’s head, nuzzling against the slightly damp material of his winter coat.
“Sungho?” he asked reluctantly.
Sungho hummed.
“I’m cold.”
“I know.”
“Sungho?” he asked again.
“Yes, Jaehyun?”
“I’m really cold.”
Sungho sighed, shrugging off Jaehyun’s head from his shoulders before turning to look at him once more. Without a word, he took off his scarf and wrapped it around Jaehyun’s bare neck, making sure to cover his ears in the process.
Jaehyun smiled, the apples of his cheeks barely noticeable from behind the wool. He held up his hands between them, glancing at Sungho with his big eyes as if to say ‘please?’
Sungho rolled his eyes lightly, intertwining his fingers with Jaehyun’s and pulling him against himself as he stuck their hands into the pockets of his coat. He held back the shiver as Jaehyun curled into his warmth, nuzzled his cold head against Sungho’s exposed neck.
“Still cold?” Sungho asked him.
Jaehyun’s response came with a sigh, the hot breath a sharp contrast from the cold tip of Jaehyun’s nose against Sungho’s skin. “Not at all.” )
A gust of cold air swept through the entryway as Sungho pulled open the front door. Instinctively, Jaehyun raised a hand to rub at his ears, only to pause when he caught himself.
Sungho noticed. Of course he did.
“It’s not too late to grab a hat, you know?” he stated, shaking his head as he stepped outside.
Jaehyun huffed out a small laugh, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “I’ll be fine. Really chilly isn’t the same as snow now, is it?”
Sungho turned, his expression unreadable for a moment before he looked away, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah,” he said softly, “I guess it isn’t.”
Jaehyun locked the door behind them, and for a moment, the noise of the world outside seemed louder than it had in days. he supposed it made sense, given that both he and Sungho had spoken a few short sentences to one another since he’d started packing up his things.
They walked side by side, their pace slow but steady, as the chill of the air brushed against their skin. Jaehyun’s hands slipped back into his jacket pockets, and Sungho’s fingers adjusted the beanie on his head, both lost in their own thoughts. The city seemed to be in a hurry around them, but they moved through it like they had all the time in the world.
“So,” Jaehyun said, his voice breaking the silence, “when do you start your internship?”
Sungho glanced at him, eyes narrowing playfully. “What’s with this small talk, huh?”
Jaehyun shrugged. “Don’t know, just felt like talking.”
Sungho let out a hum, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I start on Monday.” The day after you leave, he wanted to add.
Jaehyun nodded, kicking a pebble along the sidewalk with the toe of his shoe. “Monday, huh?”
Sungho hummed in confirmation, tucking his hands into his own coat pockets. “Bright and early.” He hesitates before adding, “Guess that means I’ll have to start going to bed at a reasonable time.”
Jaehyun let out a small snort. “Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Sungho feigned offense. “Excuse you, I am fully capable of a responsible sleep schedule.”
“Sure, you are.” Jaehyun picks up the pace to get ahead of Sungho and turns around. “That’s why you stay up all night with me while I work on my assignments.”
“That’s because I have to do my own work too,” Sungho argues.
“Your work is watching rom-coms at 2 in the morning?” Jaehyun raised an eyebrow.
“That was research.”
“For what?”
Sungho shrugged. “Life.”
Jaehyun shook his head, but there was a smile pulling at his lips.
“Still, I should probably start sleeping at a decent hour. You know, since I’m a working man now.” Sungho sighed, tossing his head back to emphasize his resignation.
Jaehyun glanced at him, his voice light. “Don’t worry, I won’t be there to keep you up at night.”
Sungho faltered mid-step. It wasn’t much, just half a second of hesitation, but it was enough for Jaehyun to notice, wincing slightly when he realized what his words meant.
“Yeah, haha.” Sungho forced out a light laugh, hands turning to fists behind the fabric of his coat. “I guess I’ll actually have to set an alarm now.”
Jaehyun stayed quiet, mentally kicking himself for ruining the mood without even meaning to. The easy back-and-forth they had going slipping through his fingers, replaced by something heavier—something unsaid. He exhaled slowly, watching his breath curl into the cold air before disappearing just as quickly.
The wind picked up slightly, slipping under his too-thin jacket, and he suppressed a shiver. It was Sungho’s turn to notice now, but he kept his mouth shut. What was the point of warning him about getting sick when he wouldn’t even be in charge of nursing him back to health?
( “Jaehyun, please.” Sungho sighed exasperatedly, body tightly squeezed between the couch and the too-heavy-to-move coffee table.
A whine came from the lump of blankets—Jaehyun’s weak whine—cut off by a few harsh coughs that shook his entire body. He groaned, throat feeling scratchy and raw.
“Jaehyun, you need to take your medicine.” Sungho spoke sternly.
It had been the same scene for the past five minutes: Jaehyun’s body laying on the couch, back facing Sungho while he kneeled between the couch and the coffee table, one hand holding a bottle of cough syrup and a spoon, the other resting against Jaehyun’s shaking shoulders.
“Jaehyun.” Sungho tries again, kneecaps beginning to pang with dull pain. “Can you at least look at me?”
Jaehyun responded with another groan before finally shifting from the crook of the couch, stretching his head back to look at Sungho.
Sungho’s lips curved down into a pouty frown as he took in Jaehyun’s appearance. The younger boy’s eyes were rimmed with red, and were watery, as if he had just finished crying after watching Marley & Me for the hundredth time. his hair was hidden behind his grey hood, whatever slipped past the fabric laid matted against his forehead, damp with sweat. His nose was flushed pink, glossy with leftover snot, and raw where the sides of his nostrils met his cheeks—evidence of being rubbed just a little too harshly.
Jaehyun sniffled. “You’re staring. I know I look bad.”
“You don’t look bad…” Sungho started, free hand coming up to push the hair out of his face. “Let’s just say, a little worse for wear?”
Jaehyun’s eyes closed at the feeling of Sungho’s fingers brushing against his hot forehead. “I think that might be worse.”
“Maybe,” Sungho picked up on Jaehyun’s relief, pressing the palm of his hand against his forehead. “But I can promise you it’ll only get more nasty from here on out if you don’t take your medication.”
“But it’s icky.” Jaehyun peeked open an eye, gauging Sungho’s reaction.
Sungho rolled his eyes. “Icky is a word for toddlers, Jae. You’re not a little boy.”
Jaehyun closed his eyes again, a sleepy, yet still somehow playful, smile gracing his lips. “But you called me your sweet little boy last night…”
Sungho resisted the urge to flick Jaehyun’s already pounding forehead. “Well, I must’ve been mistaken.”
“Mmm, I don’t think you were.” Jaehyun fully turned to the side, trapping Sungho’s hand under his head as he looked up at him fully. “In fact, I think I’ve heard you use that nickname once or twice before.”
Sungho’s cheeks lightly flushed under Jaehyun’s sickly sweet gaze, eyes averting to look at the little speck of blanket fluff nestled between the strands of his hair instead of his droopy eyes.
“Whatever.” Sungho tried to pull away from Jaehyun. “I’m gonna leave your syrup here. You can take it if you want to get better.”
“Don’t shy away now, Sungho.” Jaehyun pressed his head against Sungho’s hand to catch his gaze.
When Sungho ignores him, he tries again. “Look at me.”
Sungho slowly caves, brown eyes finally meeting brown again.
Jaehyun smiles, bigger than the one from before. “If you call me your sweet little boy again, I’ll take my medicine.”
Sungho narrows his eyes at the boy lying on the couch.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands, mister.” As if to emphasize his point, Sungho pulls his hand out from under Jaehyun’s head with ease.
“Plus, if I remember correctly,” Sungho gestured for Jaehyun to sit up. “I only called you that after you whined about taking your ‘icky’ medicine.”
Jaehyun pulled his body up against the armrest of the couch, swaying slightly at the sudden shift. He basked in Sungho’s worried doting, “So you admit to calling me it?”
Sungho huffed, twisting open the cough syrup and placing the cap on the table behind him in exasperation. “Will you just drink your damn syrup?”
Jaehyun let out a quiet laugh, cut short with another round of coughs.
Sungho frowned, filling up the spoon. “Say ahhh.”
Jaehyun let out a croaky sigh, opening up his mouth while squeezing his eyes shut. He held back a gag at the taste of the bitter syrup, reluctantly swallowing before whining in despair.
Sungho filled the spoon up again, sticking it into Jaehyun’s mouth before he could close it again.
Jaehyun opened his eyes, brows furrowed in disbelief as he swallowed another abhorrent spoonful of cough syrup.
Sungho smiled. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Jaehyun narrowed his eyes, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. “You play dirty, pretty boy.”
“All is fair when it comes to getting rid of sickness, my sweet little boy.”
This time, it was Jaehyun who was left a blushing mess on the sofa. )
Jaehyun shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, rolling his shoulders as if that alone could shake off the weight pressing against his chest. He hated this. Hated how final it all felt.
With a small sigh, he turned around to face the front again, eyes locking onto the chalkboard in front of their go-to cafe.
The writing on the board was halfway smudged, a result of the slight drizzle that had graced the city of London in the early hours of the morning. These days, the ‘daily special’ was just one of three drinks, rotated through the weeks like clockwork and dressed up in new names to keep things interesting.
Jaehyun tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he read the familiar words. “Huh, haven’t seen this one in a while.”
Sungho followed his gaze, squinting at the chalk. “‘Earl Grey Vanilla Latte’...wasn’t that the first one you tried here?”
“Yeah.” He turns his head to look at Sungho. “You recommended it to me.”
Sungho chuckled, eyes crinkling slightly. “And you said you hated it.”
Jaehyun’s smile lingered as he reached for the door. “It grew on me.”
The bell above the door chimed softly as the two of them entered, warm air rushing around them like a comforting hug. The cafe smelt strongly of cinnamon and espresso, like every late-night cramming session and lazy Sunday morning the two of them had ever shared.
Without a word, they split off instinctively. Jaehyun drifted toward the counter, fingers already reaching for his wallet, while Sungho headed straight for their regular table—the one near the window, chipped paint bordering its edges, and a perfect view of the street. In the corner of the table, on his side, was a small etching in the wood: S + J .ᐟ
They hadn’t always been there, the initials. The table was once just a plain slab of wood, marked only by little dents and random slashes scattered across the top. Back then, the paint chips weren’t as bad, still holding onto the little grooves of the wood. That was before it endured years’ worth of Jaehyun’s pens and pencils slamming against the edge, tapping out a beat to back the quiet melodies that slipped past his lips without realizing.
Sungho traced the letters lightly, finger hovering over the plus sign in the middle before he pulled away and finally sat down in his seat. His eyes shifted back to the front counter of the cafe, landing on Jaehyun’s figure with a practiced ease.
The younger of the two had busied himself with looking around the establishment in faux-amazement. He had been here countless times before, ordering the same two drinks that he had today. Had stood in the same place, looking at the same paintings and artwork that splattered the walls of the cafe. Had turned around when the coffees would be slow to arrive, making faces at Sungho who would laugh lightly from where he’d sit in his unassigned seat.
Today, however, there was no rush, and before Jaehyun could even turn around, two cups were placed in front of him. He grabbed the saucers with practiced ease, careful not to spill a single drop, before slowly making his way back to Sungho.
Jaehyun placed the flat white in front of Sungho, the latte art a perfect white swirl against the dark coffee. He sat down and took a careful sip of his own drink, his eyes half-closed as he let the flavour settle on his tongue. He opened them slowly, a small frown on his lips.
"It's more bitter than I remember," he said, his voice quiet, almost lost in the soft chatter of the cafe.
Sungho’s fingers were tracing the ‘S’ on the tabletop again, thumb lightly brushing against the faint outline of the plus sign. He didn't pick up his mug. Instead, his eyes lifted to the window. The last remnants of daylight were fading fast, pale blue sky shifting to something darker.
“It was never really a sweet drink to begin with.” Sungho's head turns back to Jaehyun, eyes following after watching the streetlights flicker on. “Especially not compared to your usual preference.”
( The bell above the door rang as another person entered the café, the warm scent of cinnamon and espresso wrapping around Jaehyun like a soft blanket.
Jaehyun’s eyes narrowed in thought, fingers tapping the counter. “I think I’m gonna get the…uh…Choco-Caramel Crunch Latte.”
Sungho peeked over, eyebrows arched. “Chocolate and caramel?” His tone was equal parts mock horror and disbelief. “You’re gonna cut your lifetime short by, like…ten years with that much sugar.”
“Oh, come on, Sungho,” Jaehyun said, lifting his chin, eyes bright with mischief. “It’s dessert in a cup! It’s not a crime.”
“It is if you drink it every day,” Sungho replied, calm but teasing. “Try the Earl Grey Vanilla Latte instead.”
Jaehyun wrinkled his nose. “Vanilla…latte? That sounds…boring.”
Sungho rolled his eyes. “Not everything has to be rainbow sprinkles and whipped cream, you know? We’re adults. We should act like it.”
“‘We’re adults,’” Jaehyun mocked, tilting his head. “Last I checked, you only just turned eighteen, and my birthday’s in December.”
“Well, in that case,” Sungho said with a smirk, “you should listen to your elders.”
The line at the counter shifted up, another person placing their order.
Jaehyun frowned, pressing his lips together. “But life is just so much better with sugar in it.”
“Just humour me, alright?” Sungho leaned closer, brown eyes catching the warm glow from the hanging lights. “And if you don’t like it, I’ll never make you drink another one of my choices again.”
“What if I hate it?” Jaehyun asked, biting his lip. “Then I’ll complain so much that you’ll wish I’d gotten my choco caramel crunch latte instead.”
“Look…we can make this fair,” Jaehyun says after a brief pause.
Sungho blinked. “Fair?”
“Yeah.” Jaehyun grinned, eyes sparkling. “If I get your boring vanilla drink, you have to get my choco caramel crunch. That way, if either of us hates it, we can trade.”
“Trade?” Sungho grimaced, not liking the idea of swapping his regular tea for a heart attack in a cup.
“It’s perfect!” Jaehyun’s hands waved dramatically. “If you hate yours, and I hate mine, we can go back to our original drinks. Fair is fair, right?”
Sungho crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know if I can handle that much sugar.”
“Oh, come on!” Jaehyun leaned closer, voice dropping to playful desperation. “It’s only one cup. And if you hate it, you can roll your eyes at me all the way home. But at least you tried. Please? For fairness?”
Sungho huffed, shaking his head, lips twitching. “You’re…persistent.”
“And you love it,” Jaehyun shot back with a grin. “Just admit it. You can’t resist my brilliant bargaining skills.”
Sungho let out a reluctant laugh, finally shaking his head. “Fine. But if I regret this, you owe me…I don’t know yet, but you’ll owe me something.”
Jaehyun’s grin widened, triumphant. “Deal!”
When the drinks arrived, Jaehyun handed Sungho the choco caramel crunch with a flourish, and Sungho slid the Earl Grey vanilla latte across.
Jaehyun took a tentative sip of Sungho’s latte, brows skewing instantly. “This is so bitter!”
Sungho blinked. “Bitter? That’s literally sweet. What are you talking about?”
Jaehyun leaned back, disgusted. “Compared to my usual sugar overload? This is bitter-bitter.”
Sungho let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Bitter-bitter. You’ve officially ruined your tongue with caramel, I swear.”
Jaehyun tapped the mug lightly. “Fine. But remember, I gave you a fair chance. Now you try mine.”
Sungho took a careful sip of the choco caramel crunch, lips twitching immediately. “Oh…oh no. That’s…that’s too sweet.”
Jaehyun’s grin was unstoppable. “You like it!”
Sungho groaned, shaking his head, but couldn’t hide the warmth in his eyes. “No. No, I don’t.”
“You so do!” Jaehyun leaned forward. “Your eyes are practically twinkling with enjoyment.”
Sungho shoved Jaehyun’s face away from him. “Whatever. It’s fine for every once in a while. I don’t know how you drink this all the time.”
“Well, I guess the trade’s off, then.” The smile lingered on Jaehyun’s face as he leaned back.
Sungho smiled, bringing his own cup to his lips. “It grows on you.” )
Jaehyun felt his lip quirk up at the faint memory. Before Sungho, Jaehyun had never enjoyed bitter drinks. and yet somehow, he was sure that the drink he was nursing in his hands had tasted sweeter then than it did now.
Sungho finally lifted his mug, though he didn’t drink. He turned it slowly in his hands instead, watching the steam curl upward before fading into nothing.
“Funny,” he said, not quite looking at Jaehyun. “I used to think this place would feel the same no matter how long we stayed away.”
Jaehyun’s fingers tightened slightly around his cup. “It kind of does.”
“Yeah.” Sungho huffed out a breath. “And it kind of doesn’t.”
Silence settled between them again, thick but familiar. Outside, someone hurried past the window, shoulders hunched against the cold. Jaehyun tracked the movement until it disappeared from view.
“I don’t think I ever pictured this part,” Sungho continued, quieter now. “Us just…stopping.”
Jaehyun swallowed. “We’re not stopping.”
Sungho’s eyes flicked back to him. “We’re not?”
Jaehyun hesitated. Just for a second. “I mean—” he exhaled, forcing his voice to stay even. “It’s not like we’re never gonna see each other again.”
Sungho nodded slowly, gaze drifting back to the table. His thumb rubbed over the faint outline of the carved letters.
“I know,” he said. “I just…thought it’d feel different.”
Jaehyun let out a weak laugh. “Different how?”
Sungho opened his mouth, then closed it. He leaned back in his chair, eyes lifting to the ceiling as if the answer might be written there.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Less unfinished, maybe.”
The word landed heavier than either of them expected.
Jaehyun stared into his drink, watching the foam tremble slightly as his hands shifted. “I think,” he started, then stopped. He tried again. “I think things don’t always get to feel finished.”
Sungho turned toward him fully this time. “And you’re okay with that?”
Jaehyun met his gaze, something fragile flashing behind his eyes before he looked away.
“I don’t really have a choice.”
For a moment, Sungho said nothing. Then, softer—almost careful:
“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d…done things differently?”
Jaehyun’s breath caught. He laughed (a shocked chuckle, really) under his breath, shaking his head. “You mean, like, if we’d actually talked about anything?”
“Yeah,” sungho said. “Like that.”
Jaehyun pressed his lips together. The noise of the café seemed louder now—the clink of cups, the low murmur of voices—like the world was doing everything it could to fill the space neither of them would.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I think we did what we could. With what we had.”
Sungho studied him for a long second. “And if we’d had more time?”
Jaehyun looked at him then. Really looked.
“If we’d had more time,” he said carefully, “we probably would’ve just found new ways to avoid the same conversation.”
Sungho smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. That sounds like us.”
They sat there, the truth hovering between them—close enough to touch, too heavy to pick up.
Sungho traced the carved letters lightly with his thumb, as if the table could somehow hold his words for him. Then, quieter, almost as if he weren’t sure he should say it: “Maybe…one day we’ll sit here again. Just like this.”
Jaehyun looked up, a faint spark in his eyes. “Like nothing’s changed?”
Sungho shrugged, a little nervous, lips twitching. “Maybe. Or maybe everything will be different…but at least we’ll know.”
Jaehyun let out a soft, almost breathless laugh. “And if it isn’t the same?”
“Then…it was still worth it,” Sungho said, finally meeting his gaze. Gentle, resigned, and careful with the weight of the words.
And despite his silence, behind his mug, Jaehyun’s lips curved into a faint smile. For a second, he let himself imagine that future—however uncertain, however small—and it was enough.