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Do you really want to do this?
Donghyuck’s eyes are rooted on the road ahead, miles of asphalt swallowed by Johnny’s car as they cruise through the deserted highway. His hands tremble; the phrase swivels in his head. Donghyuck always knows what he wants, yet here, sitting next to Johnny, riding in the car through this never-ending highway, he feels out of his depth. Is he sure he really wants to do this? Absolutely not. He already regrets his decision, his foolish, impulsive, thirty-minutes-younger self for saying that they needed to talk when he’s trapped in a three-hour drive.
In his peripheral vision, he sees Johnny’s knuckles gripping the steering wheel tightly, white with tension. The tension is thick, like rubber stretched to its seams, one wrong tug away from snapping. The needle of the speedometer is climbing, slow but steady. Live fast, die young, they said. Donghyuck wonders if this is his time.
“I asked you a question, Donghyuck. You said you wanted to talk?”
If there is a God out there, Donghyuck prays that they would crash. Donghyuck prays that they wouldn’t. But if there is a God out there, Donghyuck wouldn’t be here, trapped in this metal contraption, racing through the night at 75 mph with no end in sight.
“Donghyuck?”
Donghyuck doesn’t want to talk. Donghyuck wants to disappear. He wants a hole to open up right where he is and swallow him. He doesn’t want to face Johnny. He doesn’t want to figure it out. He wants to go back to that blissful summer in Miami, with the sun and the ocean and Johnny’s tan arms around him. His plush lips kissing Donghyuck’s smiling ones, his hands roaming across Donghyuck’s body like a king marking his territory—and in a way, he is.
Donghyuck would let Johnny conquer him, would let Johnny possess him, own him. He would worship Johnny on his knees with a collar around his neck, and he would be grateful.
Donghyuck wants a lot of things, but life is unfair. We can’t always have what we want.
Donghyuck wants to escape, and Johnny wants to talk.
The summer has ended, Miami is 7,733 miles away, and Donghyuck is back to where it all started. Uncertain, in love, yet so, so terrified.
A long sigh drags its way out of Johnny’s lips, but Donghyuck ignores it, determined to stay mum. The rest of the ride is filled with tense silence until Johnny spots a rest area, and the car moves slowly toward it.
There’s a roaring sound in Donghyuck’s ears. His heart is beating loudly, his hands are clammy. He thinks about Miami, about soft white sheets beneath his back, Johnny on top of him. He thinks of coming back to an empty apartment, of silence on his phone. He thinks of waking up to fond smiles, soft kisses, and sleepy good mornings.
And he thinks of lonely nights, cigarettes in hand, smoke filling his lungs. He thinks of white suits, of white roses on the lapels, of Johnny waiting for him at the altar, of saying I do.
The car comes to a halt, and Donghyuck’s fingers instantly move to the latch, but Johnny is quicker. He can always read Donghyuck like an open book. He grabs Donghyuck’s hand, forcing him to finally look at him.
A warm hand cradles his cheek. Donghyuck can see the worry and fear he feels reflected in Johnny’s eyes.
“Talk to me, baby.”
The endearment punches the air out of Donghyuck. He never wants to stop hearing it. He doesn’t want this to end. Tears prickle at his eyes, and Donghyuck watches as Johnny’s eyes widen in alarm.
“Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me, please.”
Johnny’s voice is frantic, distress written in the set of his brows. But Donghyuck has lost his voice. What comes out instead are pathetic hiccups and shuddering breaths.
“Don’t cry, Donghyuck. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Donghyuck hates the softness in Johnny’s voice, hates the tender look in Johnny’s eyes, hates the pain in Johnny’s eyes at seeing him upset, hates that he loves this man so much.
“What are we, Hyung?”
There it is, out in the open, ripe for the picking.
The question that has haunted Donghyuck’s sleepless nights. The question that could bring everything crumbling down—or it could deliver him his happily ever after. Flashes of white suits, glinting rings, and I dos shimmer just beneath the surface, so close yet so far away, but Donghyuck brushes it all aside just as he brushes away his tears on those lonely nights.
At that moment, Donghyuck hates that he let Jaemin pressured him into doing this. Jaemin is a good friend, the rational one between the two of them.
“You need closure, Donghyuck. You can’t go on like this.”
Jaemin’s voice had been full of pity but firm, his eyes resolute as he stared at Donghyuck’s ever-protruding wrists, his dark eye bags, his sunken cheeks, the exhausted slump of his shoulders.
So Donghyuck made a promise. If he could have Miami, he would do this. He would confront Johnny. He would demand closure. He would demand an explanation of whatever this is.
And somewhere, somehow, he was granted Miami.
So here he is, in the middle of the night, in the parking lot of one of the many scattered rest areas in Seoul, with the man he is so in love with it hurts.
“We are whatever you want us to be, baby.”
Johnny’s hands are warm on Donghyuck’s cheeks. His calloused thumbs brush the tears away gently, as though Donghyuck is something precious, something to be treasured.
“And if I want us to be exclusive?”
Donghyuck tilts his chin up, defiance flashing in his damp eyes. Johnny has given him ground to demand more, and he would be a fool not to use it.
Johnny plants a kiss on his forehead.
“You know there’s no one else but you, right?”
This one comes out in a whisper, murmured against Donghyuck’s lips, like something sacred, like Johnny is scared the universe is going to hear and snatch it out of his hands.
He looks at Donghyuck, eyes begging. For what, Donghyuck doesn’t understand—not when he is spent, not when he has given everything to Johnny.
“And if I want marriage?”
This one comes out softer, all traces of defiance gone. In its place is Donghyuck’s heart laid bare, underbelly exposed, his softest parts ready for a knife to plunge in—or for a gentle hand to come and soothe them.
“Then you shall have it, my love.”
Then Johnny closes the distance between them, and the world is finally right again, the jagged wounds soothed.
The kiss feels electric, fireworks bursting behind Donghyuck’s closed eyelids. Johnny’s lips are as soft as always, yielding as easily as ever beneath Donghyuck’s demanding tongue. His hands cup Johnny’s face, caressing the soft skin.
His heart is soaring higher than it ever has before, and he’s not afraid of the landing, not afraid of plummeting down, not when Johnny is there to catch him.
“I want another Miami.”
Johnny laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks so happy under the flickering lights, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere.
Donghyuck realizes he has never seen Johnny shine this brightly before, as though a heavy burden has finally lifted from his shoulders.
“Next time I’ll take you to Florida. You’ll love it there.”
Donghyuck laughs at Johnny’s playful expression, his tears long dry, as if they had never been there in the first place.
The car reverses out of the parking lot. This time it moves slowly, languidly, as though it has finally reached its destination.
In a way, they have.