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Suho kept listening to the slow droplets of the bathroom shower sliding down the walls, a heavy dampness clinging to his skin.
He dried his hair, chest, arms, legs. He didn’t bother drying himself properly, only throwing on the beige fluffy robe the hotel had given him.
The room he’d rented was big. Maybe too big and empty, the king sized bed a reminder of what he’d hoped for and never got.
He took a quick glance at the suitcase half-open on the floor. There were mostly his belongings: phone chargers, headphones, clothes, skincare creams, a small e-reader that someone had gifted Suho to encourage less phone time. He sighed.
It was so hard not to think about it, especially when part of him knew exactly what he was doing by bringing Sieun’s hoodie.
It was supposed to be a vacation for two. Room for two. Sightseeing Cadaqués, Catalonia’s northeastern beauty, with Sieun beside him.
It was a gorgeous, coastal town with greek styled homes that breathed right beside the sea. A town rich with history that often went unnoticed beside larger cities like Barcelona although they were beautiful and fascinating, too.
How did Suho know about Cadaqués? Well, it had to do with the same person the hoodie belonged to, who’d seen it in a documentary and took interest in the architectural style of this town.
The cotton hoodie lay somewhere inside his suitcase. Suho’s skin was hot to the touch and red, the scalding water from his shower not soothed by the Spanish evening air. He’d opened the large window door that led to a small balcony, the noise of tourists and music not easing up the knot in his throat.
Suho clasped a hand around his water bottle, drinking all the water left inside. He didn’t like drinking out of cheap plastic containers anymore, his halmeoni taught him to drink from bronze, at the very least.
But he did what was easiest, he couldn’t be picky in a foreign country. So he stocked the small hotel fridge with food he bought from a local supermarket.
Suho licked his wet lips, swallowing the last remnants of water before throwing away the bottle. His skin was still a bright pink, the robe hanging loose around his waist and broad shoulders. He had sat in the soft bed, glancing at his suitcase.
Sieun’s hoodie was large. It swallowed the shorter man whole and still looked comfortably oversized on Suho.
It was a plain gray hoodie, not Sieun’s usual jacket, but those that he wore for comfort and Suho ended up wearing it often.
Sharing items came naturally to them. It happened often, sharing clothing, a life fit for a pair that weren’t too sure what they were.
Sieun wore the hoodie more than Suho. He either forgot it at Suho’s or left it there on purpose. Either way, Suho decided to carry a piece of Sieun in what was meant to be a vacation for two.
Suho tilted his head, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. Would Sieun care? If he knew Suho was using his clothes for comfort? How weird and needy Suho could become around him, who needed to be close to Sieun, no matter what.
Would Sieun care?
Suho stood up and took the hoodie with gentle hands, bringing it up to his nose. His eyelashes fluttered shut, inhaling the sweet vanilla yet woody fragrance. A combination of Sieun’s natural scent and his perfume.
Suho took deeper, longer breaths as if trying to memorize the fading scent until his nervous system calmed down. It would seem odd and perhaps creepy from an outsider's perspective, but to Suho it felt like relief from being two weeks away from Sieun
It was Sieun’s stubborn, avoidant, and oblivious fault anyways.
Suho hated fighting. He usually laughed it off and told Sieun he was right, apologized if it was necessary and he actually felt it. Not this time around, no. He didn’t know why Sieun had rejected the idea of going on a trip with Suho. But he had an inkling as to why.
Ahn Suho was more observant than people gave him credit for. He wasn’t a hot-headed athlete teenager anymore, always fighting and getting himself in trouble.
He’d left MMA behind years ago, most of the time focusing on rebuilding his muscle strength back in the gym. After suffering through trauma and surviving a coma, he couldn’t go back to what it used to be.
Guess that applied to Sieun and Suho’s relationship too.
To Suho, Sieun was everything. To Sieun, Suho was a painful reminder of his weakness. Suho had become Sieun’s soft spot, no one could hurt Sieun unless it affected Suho. They were inseparable, two forces and strong personalities melting into one shape of true companionship.
Their friendship had changed, it was quite obvious. Where before they merely patted each other’s back or accidentally brushed pinkies, now they would share long making out sessions where Suho’s hands always ended up undoing Sieun’s belt, dragging his tongue along Sieun’s sharp jawline, wet warmth against salty skin.
But it hadn’t been just physical. Kissing and having sex were sacred rituals Sieun had allowed Suho access to.
He confided in Suho, had so much trust to be vulnerable in front of him, let himself fall apart just for Suho to bring him back to earth in one piece.
It was more than friendship, more than romantic feelings, Suho couldn’t describe what they had.
Codependency, an entangled life due to trauma and luck, perhaps destiny too. It had no relevance. Ahn Suho knew he was in love with the boy ever since they were seventeen.
Time passed, though. Suho was greedy but he couldn’t help it, he wanted more of Sieun, not just in the intimacy of their bedrooms.
He wanted to be claimed by Sieun, wholeheartedly, so no one would doubt whether they were together.
Suho had planned this vacation to confess his feelings, despite them being so pathetically obvious and clear.
But Sieun behaved like a spooked creature, his steps cautious and methodic. Suho had to be thoughtful about it.
Yet no matter how much care had gotten into bringing up his plan, Sieun refused to be alone with Suho for two weeks, in the ethereal Cadaqués. Because Yeon Sieun was emotionally constipated to the core, because he feared losing their friendship if it became more than that, and above all, he didn’t want to disappoint Ahn Suho.
But he hurt Suho anyway.
Suho wasn’t one to hold grudges, how could he get mad at the boy who fought for him during the worst two years of his life? The same boy that cared for his grandmother and Suho himself.
But he was a human with faults, was it selfish to say he wanted to ask Sieun out in a place where no one knew them? Share a special moment they would forever think of fondly.
Selfish to wish for more, despite knowing the hardships they’d go through as a gay couple. Selfish that he’d promised Sieun to make his life easier after the coma, yet here Suho was, complicating everything. They had both caused the waves of change between them.
Sieun grabbing Suho’s face and clashing their mouths in the clumsiest, most desperate first kiss in the middle of the hospital’s garden.
He had to bend down to reach Suho as he was sitting on his wheelchair, yet it seemed like Sieun preferred it that way, kissing Suho at his most unguarded and soft.
Suho threw himself against the bed, hoodie draped over his face, the room darkening instantly. Although bits of light could be seen through the fabric.
He was so tired, wasn’t he? His skin was now a washed out pink, but the sky outside slowly dissolved into night, the sea breeze turning icy. He almost fell asleep to the sound of the waves crashing against each other.
His phone stayed near him, ignored, not wanting to reach out first. Maybe he was petty, maybe he was needy and impatient, and wished for things to be his way for once.
But who could fault him when Sieun was all he wanted, so close yet far. He hated spending time away from his family, friends, and Sieun. Whatever category he fell under.
At least Cadaqués was gorgeous. Perhaps a shorter trip would’ve been better had he known he would go alone.
Suho didn’t enjoy loneliness, it made him think of what he usually repressed deep down, locking away every ugly thought and hiding it away under a heavy key in a forgotten box.
He wanted to call Sieun, hands itching to open his stupid phone and dial his number. It was extremely late in Seoul, almost past 3AM, why would he bother Sieun? But he wouldn’t be sound asleep, the poor boy having trouble resting when Suho was away.
He knew this was hard for Sieun too, so why would Sieun choose to not go with him? Suho couldn’t understand no matter how afraid Sieun was, it just seemed absurd.
If it was obvious for others then it should be clear for him how Suho felt. Yes, he knew, Sieun was afraid and cautious. But was protecting their friendship worth it when it hurt them both?
And almost as if a red string bound them together, always tethered to each other even in distance.
Suho’s phone suddenly rang.
The sound echoed off the hotel walls, drowning in the outside noise and the quickening pace of his heartbeat. Suho swallowed, letting it ring for a few seconds, deciding whether indulging again was a good idea.
He just always did, even when angry and sad, he would always give in to Sieun.
Suho placed Sieun’s hoodie to the side, then reached for his phone. The screen was a bit dark, but he could clearly see Sieun’s name in bold letters.
Just on the other side of the world, Sieun must be lying on his bed, while Suho was hiding away in a random hotel. The red string pulled tighter.
He picked up the phone.
“Sieun-ah?” Suho’s voice sounded breathless and quiet, so unlike him.
“Hyung, how are you?”
At the other end, Sieun let out a sigh of relief before putting on a nonchalant act he’d been doing the past few months. Suho frowned, already knowing how the conversation would go. Empty of actual meaning.
Something in him prickled. Sieun called him hyung or Suho-yah when he’d revert back to his shell, but when he blossomed like a flower under the sun, he’d call him sweet pet names only Suho was privileged to hear.
“Fine, just lazing around.” Suho decided to reply, although the pause had been too long, Sieun probably noticing. “Why are you awake at this hour? It’s so late for you, Sieun-ah. You should be sleeping.”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about me.”
How could I not worry when you’ve been so weird lately? Pulling away without me knowing how to fix it.
Suho hummed. “I always worry about you.”
Another pause, not awkward, but it was definitely restrained from both sides. Suho walked toward the balcony, sitting in one of the plastic chairs, knees up to his chest.
The robe slid a little, showing off more of his legs, clasped in briefs. A few tiny moles spread all over his skin, feet not touching the ground anymore.
“Well, you shouldn’t. I was revising the books I’ll have to read for next semester.” Sieun said.
A lie. Suho could tell just by his voice. Not that Sieun wouldn’t do something like that, but he preferred studying at the library. Oh and it was the end of June already, he had nothing to study for. Even Yeon Sieun took breaks from his busy law degree.
Sieun most likely couldn’t sleep and he missed Suho. It tugged at his heart the way it did for the taller man, the red string loosening up now they were talking.
“So, how is Cadaqués?” Sieun wondered. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
It made Suho’s tummy do a little somersault, hearing Sieun’s tired deep voice that got raspy when it was late.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful, you would love it here.” Suho traced little circles on his knee, glancing at the gorgeous view in front of him. “It’s not exactly like Jeju, but the smell of sea and life is similar. The pathways are rocky, a bit narrow and you stumble upon cats at every corner. They’re all round and cute. I pet a few of them.” Suho explained with a small smile.
It was soothing to talk about his days here in Cadaqués, albeit strange because Sieun wasn’t there to coo at the cats, taking pictures with his camera or mentioning historical facts only he would’ve learnt on the way there.
“That sounds nice.” Sieun mumbled, a ruffling sound like he was laying on his side but now he was on his back, sighing. “Are they friendly?”
“Yeah, very cuddly too, you’d probably wanna bring them all home.” Suho smiled a little bit, fingers drawing shapes in his legs stilling for a second.
Another angry wave of sea water crashed coldly against the shore, far away from Suho’s balcony and hotel, but he felt and heard it still.
Suho soaked up the uproar into his veins, taking a deep breath and healing his nervous system with the helping hand of nature.
Being in a European country where no one knew him was comforting in its own ways, but Ahn Suho felt the loneliest he’d been in years.
Talking through the phone wasn’t what he wanted, a piece of clothing that had traces of Sieun’s scent not enough to pacify his troubling mind. Things were so complicated now. How did it all start?
“Which one do you think I’d like the most?” Sieun brought Suho down to earth, suddenly.
“There’s this tabby cat that’s always purring when she sees me. I’d pick her, I think she would like you.” Suho decided, thinking of the cute feline that would wrap her tail around his leg. He always passed her when he would go on his morning runs.
“Oh, send me a picture. She sounds cute.” Sieun swallowed, sighing like his chest was full of unsaid thoughts.
Suho was thinking about Sieun Sieun Sieun. What he’d done this week without him, if he had been eating well, how his friends and Sieun would hang out when Suho was touching the same earth in a different stratosphere: Cadaqués, a place where ancient greek trading boats would settle in its port, markets full of people from another era, surviving the odds.
Do you miss me? Have you thought about me? Why didn’t you come with me?
So needy and pathetic, because he wanted Sieun’s attention the most, he got what he could, and it wasn’t enough for Suho’s heart. No, he craved more. Perhaps Sieun had nothing else to take from Suho.
Another silence where neither man spoke their real feelings. Sieun might fall asleep soon, Suho assumed, since it was way past his sleeping schedule.
Suho tightened the robe around himself, the chilly wind embracing the shape of Suho’s body. He blinked at the sudden streetlights turning on, but the sky was full of bright stars, unmoving.
“Are you there?” Sieun hesitated to ask.
“Hm?” Suho ran a hand through his soft, damp hair. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“You sound weird.” Sieun murmured.
“What do you mean?” Suho tilted his head.
He watched more people come out of their hotels toward the area where most restaurants were open at that time.
“Just not very talkative, I guess?” Sieun went on. “I mean, maybe I’m just tired, I don’t know. Ignore me.”
Suho’s fingers tightened around the phone. The wind pushed against his hair, cooling down the feverish red of his skin left behind by the shower. He still felt raw and hot to the touch. It was comforting as if the warmth could soothe his melancholy.
Somewhere below, people laughed loudly in Spanish, Catalonian, and French. He heard some German, too, silverware clinking against plates, music floating out from an open restaurant window. Life kept moving around him while he stayed stuck in the same place.
“I'm okay, just a little out of it. It’s been kind of intense being here.” Suho muttered, leaving out without you from his confession. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m probably overthinking, Suho-yah. Just forget it.” Sieun’s bitter tone made Suho frown.
“Are you mad at me?” A tiny laugh escaped Suho, humorless.
That made Sieun soften. “No, no, I’m not angry at you, hyung.”
Suho leaned his cheek against his bent knee, staring out at the sea swallowing the last traces of orange sunlight whole.
He didn’t know how long he could hold it all inside him, it was bursting at the seams, every feeling he’d bottled up for the last few months.
“Why did you call?” Suho wondered, tired. “Why now?”
The question sat between them heavily. He didn’t sound angry, and didn't accuse Sieun of anything exactly. He was just upset. Suho heard rustling on the other side, maybe Sieun turning over in bed again.
He imagined him lying in his dark room, glasses abandoned somewhere nearby because his eyes probably hurt, a thick blanket tangled around his legs, pretty mouth pressed into a thin line while he thought too hard about every word before denying himself the truth.
“I don’t know,” Sieun answered automatically.
Suho closed his eyes.
Of course.
That same answer every time things got difficult. Every time they stood too close to something real.
“You don’t know?” Suho repeated quietly, disappointment filling him up.
Sieun went quiet again. The silence stretched long enough for Suho to hear his own heartbeat.
He wouldn’t press Sieun anymore, it was almost like he’d been deflated from all fight and energy to do it.
Sieun had to be the one to reach out first, which he had with the phone call, he supposed.
“I just…” A shaky exhale. Sieun sounded closer to the phone. “I wanted to hear your voice, Suho-yah.”
And just like that, the frustration inside Suho collapsed in on itself.
I wanted to hear your voice. Which was the closest Suho would get to I miss you, Suho-yah.
His chest ached. It was unfair how easily Sieun could do that to him without even trying. Suho dragged a hand down his face slowly, staring down at the balcony tiles.
He hated how his anger melted instantly whenever Sieun sounded even a little vulnerable.
Like his body physically could not hold resentment against him for longer than a few minutes. But he fought against his indulgent, almost “people pleaser” nature and stood his ground.
“You could’ve called earlier this week,” Suho murmured.
“I know.”
“You barely texted.”
“I know,” Sieun whispered again, softer this time, like every accusation landed exactly where it was supposed to.
The honesty startled Suho more than excuses would have.
Suho swallowed hard. “Then why didn’t you?”
This time Sieun took longer to answer.
“I thought you were mad.”
“I was.” Suho stared at the empty chair across the balcony table, chest tightening again. “I kept looking beside me out of habit. We were supposed to come together, Sieun-ah.
Sieun sounded so uncharacteristically uncertain and childish that Suho had to close his eyes. Suho’s lips parted, but nothing came out. Because yes, he had been hurt. Deeply.
“Are you still… angry?” Sieun whispered like the answer genuinely mattered to him so he'd sleep peacefully.
Every beautiful thing he saw in Cadaqués had something missing beside it. Every narrow street and ocean view and sleepy cat curled beneath flower pots only reminded him of who was supposed to be there with him.
Hearing Sieun’s sleepy voice at three in the morning made it difficult to hold onto that hurt properly, not without feeling guilty.
“I don’t know,” Suho admitted eventually, voice quieter now. “Maybe a little. I think part of me thought… if you didn’t come this time, maybe you never would.”
“That’s not true, hyung. Do you really think that?” Sieun sounded more alert now.
“Well that’s how it feels.”
Sieun sighed deeply, but didn’t say anything else.
The honesty between them felt strange tonight. Usually they danced around things until the subject died on its own. But exhaustion had worn them down into something softer, less guarded.
Suho tugged the robe around his waist as another cold gust swept over the balcony. His skin pebbled with goosebumps. He thought about putting on Sieun’s hoodie, for a second.
“You should sleep,” Suho spoke gently. “It’s so late already.”
“What about you? Have you ordered dinner? Ah, you should sleep in early too, hyung.”
To others, Sieun’s tone felt almost nagging, but for Suho it filled him with warmth. He cared so much, his stubborn Sieun, even when things felt off. A habit he’d never let go of even after leaving behind Suho’s accident.
“Don’t turn this on me, I asked first, Sieun-ah. And I’m on vacation, all I’ve been doing is eating and sleeping anyways.”
Sieun scoffed before laughing, making Suho feel more at ease.
“I bet you’ll wake up at seven in the morning for a run, you should rest more.” Sieun said with confidence, proud of knowing Suho better than anyone else.
Suho snorted quietly despite himself. “Well that makes two of us, then.”
A small laugh crackled through the speaker.
That warm feeling spread through Suho’s chest again, dangerous and addictive. He missed hearing Sieun laugh directly into his ear, even if it wasn’t in person.
“You’d like the mornings here,” Suho found himself saying. “The streets are empty for a little while. There’s this bakery near the harbor that smells amazing.”
“What kind of bakery? Like a coffee shop?”
“Mostly pastries and bread, but you can get coffee on the go.” Suho smiled faintly. “An elderly couple owns it, I think. The husband always gives me extra napkins because I’m cute. Or messy, who knows.”
“You are messy.” Sieun hums.
“I’m not messy.”
“You absolutely are.”
Suho scoffed under his breath, but his smile widened despite it.
The conversation drifted easier after that, as always never directly talking about things, but Suho was exhausted and missed Sieun too much to care.
They spoke about the weather in Seoul, comparing it with Cadaqués. The sea breeze. Another cute cat that followed Suho halfway back to the hotel earlier.
Sieun complained about the summer heat in Seoul, and Suho went on to ask whether he was drinking enough water. Sieun lying about how he doesn’t get dizzy anymore and Suho immediately catching him.
Some light banter about the ways they both should implement healthier habits into their lifestyles. Which then turned into a whole other topic that had nothing to do with that.
Their conversation was flowing so… normally, like they hadn’t spent the past few months in a game where one step forward moved them two steps back.
Eventually Suho leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. His body felt heavy now.
The sky above Cadaqués had turned fully dark, stars scattered carelessly over the water. He could hear Sieun breathing through the phone, soft and uneven.
“Suho-yah?”
“Mhm?”
“You sound sleepy.”
“I am.” He rubbed at one eye. “Might go to sleep soon, actually.”
The words barely left his mouth before the atmosphere shifted. A tiny, almost invisible change but Suho felt it instantly. On the other end, Sieun stopped breathing for half a second.
“Oh, it’s so late… I didn’t even notice.” Sieun sighed.
Suho frowned slightly, downing on him a reality he suddenly could picture too clearly. Sieun was alone in his room, holding onto this call longer than he intended to because hanging up meant Suho disappearing again. Thousands of kilometers away. Another ocean between them.
“We’ll talk soon, then?” Suho raised his brows with hope.
“Yeah, of course.” Sieun promised. Then, softer, like it slipped before he could catch it. “Goodnight, jagiya. I love you.”
Something inside Suho melted completely after that. His feelings had been held under pressure for too long, remembering they were never meant to stay intact, but rather collapse before letting the light in.
Sleep well. I love you. I love you. I love you, Ahn Suho.
A surprised “What?” muttered between Suho’s soft, plump lips. “What did you say, Sieun-ah, baby?”
Suho held his phone against his ear so tightly his fingers ached, wind cutting through the thin gap of his robe and cooling his skin. The town below kept moving in gentle, distant fragments like in the movies.
Laughter spilling out of restaurants, blurry chatter, music that didn’t belong to him and yet all of it felt far away, watching it through glass with a dizzying realization Sieun loved him. On the other side of the line, Sieun didn’t say anything else, but he hadn’t hung up either.
Suho exhaled slowly. His body was trying to reset something his mind couldn’t. When he spoke again his reply came out more assured than before.
“Sieun-ah…” he repeated, the name alone felt different tonight, stretched thin with everything unsaid between them.
“Yes, hyung?” Sieun was barely breathing. He was scared, Suho realized.
Suho let out a pained noise, a combination of disbelief and worry for Sieun.
“What are we doing?” He murmured, but it didn’t carry any real bite now, just a kind of exhausted affection he didn’t know where to place.
“Talking like we always do.” Sieun said immediately. “What else?”
Suho almost laughed at that because of course he did, of course he always knew exactly what he was doing except the part where he kept hurting them both anyway.
Suho sank back into the balcony chair, creaking softly beneath him, robe slipping slightly without him bothering to fix it. His gaze drifted out toward the sea again, dark now, almost swallowing itself under the starry night.
“You tell me you love me, but didn’t want to come here with me.” He said slowly, trying to understand Sieun if he described the situation out loud.
Silence stretched between them, Suho could hear Sieun’s heartbeats too clearly on the other end, uneven with effort alone.
“I do love you.” Sieun admitted with a shallow breath, no stutter but a bit shaken up. “Being away from you has been awful.”
His voice was so honest it made Suho tremble with need. Suho closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his head back against the chair.
There was a faint sting behind his ribs now, not sharp but persistent. It was pressing inward instead of breaking outward.
“Sieun, do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that? I’ve spent weeks thinking you didn’t like me anymore,” Suho added, shaky from nerves and tension.
“I meant to tell you this in person, right where you are now.” Sieun said again, softer this time. “But I got scared and confused, I wasn’t sure whether you’d want things to stay the same or not. When you asked me to go on this vacation I was excited, but I overthink, I always do. I’m so, so sorry Suho-yah…”
That made Suho still completely, fingers tightening faintly against the arm of the chair. The words landed with implication, everything Sieun usually refused to let exist between them, now out in the open it felt more real.
All those nights cuddling, holding hands under tables, going on picnic dates or eating out late at night when neither could sleep well.
Sieun’s presence and support through Suho’s rehabilitation journey, when things got hard and complicated, he was always there.
It wasn’t necessary for Sieun to tell Suho he loved him. He knew Sieun loved him. With his actions, the softness in his gaze, the gentle caring side he only showed few people most of all for Suho. But Sieun saying I love you meant he wanted more than the limbo they were stuck in.
Sieun’s voice came through slightly fractured, like it had been pushed out before he could stop it. “I wanted to be there with you.”
“Why were you scared?” Suho asked quietly, though he already knew the answer.
“If I went with you I wouldn’t be able to pretend anymore. I’d want to hold your hands everywhere, kiss your face all over, tell you to do silly poses for pictures, buy matching keychains… It would be so obvious how in love I am with you, Suho-yah. Don’t you get it?”
Suho’s breath caught slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of it needed somewhere to land. “And I’m not obvious? Sieun-ah, how could you ever doubt my love for you? There are no others for me, that’s why I wanted to have this trip with you! I wanted to confess my feelings and ask you out. Officially, I mean.”
Suho’s frown eased after each word, filled with fondness for the other boy.
“I’ve always wanted you more than a friend should.” Sieun replied, almost helplessly, like he had been holding it back for too long for it to stay contained. “Sorry I ruined your plan, I thought… I don’t know what I thought. Just that you wouldn’t want us to be more than friends.”
The world didn’t stop this time. It just tilted enough to make everything in Suho’s life fall to its rightful place.
His grip on the phone loosened for a second before tightening again, not out of control but out of instinct. He needed something solid to hold onto while his chest struggled to catch up with what he’d just heard.
“You didn’t go because of that?” Suho was in disbelief, yet soft and gentle. “I’ve been wearing your hoodie these past two weeks just so I could sleep well, Sieun-ah. I miss you so much, baby. Don’t you know I love you more everyday that goes by?”
Sieun sobbed quietly, a few tears sliding down Suho’s face too, both men made up of regret, love, and frustration from the distance.
“Fuck, why do I always become a mess in front of you…” Sieun wiped his face with the back of his hand, but it only smeared the evidence more than it erased it. “I’m such an idiot.”
That made Suho laugh once under his breath, so fond of the boy on the other side of the world.
“You’re not an idiot,” he murmured, gaze focused on the sky. The stars above Cadaqués looked far apart tonight, mirroring Sieun and Suho’s distance. “Sieun-ah, I’ve just been waiting for you to stop running and come home to me.”
On the other end, Sieun breathed in shakily. Then Sieun spoke. “You say things like that so easily.”
“You’re wrong, then. You think making an elaborate trip for the two of us and planning to confess was an easy task for me? You’re not the only one who has a hard time opening up,”
Love was a fleeting creature not all people were lucky to find. For Sieun and Suho, it came to them and was taken away when Suho went into a coma. But it had always been there, unspoken yet shaping every decision and core memory between them. That red string which bound them together turned out to be a one way ticket for their souls, intertwined forever.
“Hyung,” Sieun stopped himself from continuing his thought, honorifics weren't enough to carry his true feelings. “Baby.”
Suho’s heart skipped a beat, cheeks blooming in shades of pink. “Yes?”
“I don’t want this to be another thing I ruin,” Sieun breathed heavily.
Suho stayed quiet and still, allowing Sieun to share his feelings without pressure.
“What if I don’t know how to be in a relationship? I always pull away, isolate or say the wrong thing.”
“Yah, you’re not ruining anything, what would make you think that?” Suho insisted softly. “I want you no matter what you say or do, jagiya.”
A shaky breath crackled through the speaker.
“What are we, then?” Sieun asked after a pause. His voice had gone quieter now, uncertain in a way Suho almost never heard from him. “Because I want you all to myself. I don’t want to share you with anyone.” He swallowed. “I want to call you mine, hyung. Even if I’m awful at this whole… romance thing.”
Suho looked down at the balcony railing, fingers brushing lightly against the metal like he needed something physical to anchor himself with.
The cool surface grounded him a little, though his heart still felt too warm, too full. He couldn’t believe Sieun —his careful, emotionally constipated Sieun— was saying things like this out loud after months of pretending he felt nothing at all.
Below him, Cadaqués kept breathing softly into the night. Distant music floated through the streets, tourists wandered through narrow pathways, waves crashed gently against the shore like the ocean had no idea someone’s entire life was changing above it.
The world didn’t stop for them. But for Suho, this was everything he’d wanted for years. He closed his eyes for a moment, the sea breeze pushing damp strands of hair away from his forehead. When he spoke again, he sounded steadier than before, gentle.
“What do you want us to be, Sieun-ah?”
If there was something Yeon Sieun hated, it was uncertainty or unlabeled things. Half-finished thoughts, feelings left suspended in the air with nowhere to land.
His mind always searched for structure, answers neat enough to survive inside his chest. And maybe that had been the problem all along.
Because Suho and Sieun had stopped being simple years ago.
Their friendship used to fit into something understandable. Two boys surviving violence together, stitched together by loyalty and time. But somewhere between hospital visits, desperate kisses, shared hoodies and tangled bedsheets, they had ruined the simplicity of it.
They fell in love. Terribly, deeply, helplessly in love. And no amount of avoidance from Sieun could erase it now.
“I want us to date,” Sieun admitted finally, determination slipping through the exhaustion. It sounded fragile and firm all at once, like he was terrified but choosing it anyway. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
For a second, Suho couldn’t say anything at all, chest tightening so hard it almost hurt. He had imagined this moment so many times before.
During sleepless nights, lazy mornings tangled up together with Sieun as he caressed his face, during every instant where he almost confessed, swallowed back down between kisses. But none of those fantasies compared to hearing Sieun say it like this.
Reaching out for him first.
The smile breaking across Suho’s face felt almost ridiculous, too big to hide properly. He pressed a hand over his mouth for a second, laughing breathlessly under it.
“Yes, yes of course,” Suho giggled, warmth spreading through him despite the cold wind brushing against his bare skin. “I’d really like that, baby.”
Sieun went quiet with shyness. Suho could practically picture the redness creeping up his ears and cheeks.
“Say it again,” Suho whispered, sinking back into the chair slowly. His heart still wouldn’t calm down. “Please.”
A small scoff came through the speaker, but it lacked any real sharpness.
“You’re so needy,” Sieun muttered, amusement slipping into his tone for the first time that night. “Now I know why you kept whining at me for months.”
Suho gasped dramatically. “Whining? Yah, I was suffering.”
“You seem fine to me.”
“Barely.”
Suho’s dramatics earned a soft laugh from Sieun.
“Might make you beg for it now,” Sieun added with a playful tone. “Since you want it so badly.”
Suho grinned immediately. There he was, his Sieun.
“But that would make you mean,” Suho said, voice dropping. “And I know my baby only acts all cold and scary with others. But you’re always the sweetest to me, aren’t you?”
Suho heard an embarrassed cough before, then Sieun whispered, gentle. “I only act like that with you.”
Suho melted completely.
The robe slipped lower against his shoulder as he curled sideways into the balcony chair, pressing the phone closer to his ear like it could somehow bring Sieun nearer. He felt unbearably warm now, his heart was beating too fast, hungry yet full of affection from the other boy.
“I love you,” Sieun finally said again. “I love you so much, did you know?”
Suho smiled helplessly into the night sky.
“I love you too, baby. I don’t think you understand how much I love you, but I do, Sieun-ah.”
This time, they didn’t change topics to lessen the meaning of their words. They simply stayed on the phone together while the night embraced them with tenderness.
Suho eventually moved back inside the hotel room, climbing into the large bed that no longer felt quite as empty as before.
He held Sieun’s hoodie against his chest, listening to the quiet sound of Sieun’s breathing through the speaker. The stars outside watched over the sleeping coast of Cadaqués.
Thousands of kilometers apart, yet somehow closer than they had ever been before. And for the first time in years, Suho fell asleep without wanting, yearning helplessly, wishing. Instead, his dreams were filled with Sieun Sieun Sieun loving him back. Endlessly, without fear.