Chapter Text
Jaehyun
Now it gets tricky again
Not like I'm feeling this for the first time
It's different this time, I can't even breathe
I must be going crazy (Oh, my God)
— But I Like You by BOYNEXTDOOR
“What do you mean you aren’t coming?” Jaehyun demanded frustratedly into his phone. His knuckles turned white as he fought to keep his voice level.
He and Riwoo had made it to the airport an hour ago. They’d completed their check-in and were proceeding to immigration when Jaehyun had received a call from his childhood best friend, Sungho.
“I’m sorry, Jaehyun-ah. I can’t explain, but me and Taesan can’t make it to the trip. It’s just you and Riwoo. I’m sorry.”
Jaehyun stared at his phone screen. The words Call ended glowed mockingly below Sungho’s contact.
“Great. Just great. First Woonhak. Then Leehan. Now Sungho and Taesan. Does nobody want to come on this trip?” Jaehyun muttered angrily.
“Is everything okay, Jaehyun?” Riwoo asked him.
Jaehyun sighed, his head trying to make sense of the situation. How was he going to tell Riwoo that their friends had ditched the trip that they’d been planning over the past month?
“It’s…Uh…I…” Jaehyun swallowed, the words catching like sandpaper in his throat. “Sungho and Taesan are also not coming. It’s just you and me,” he finally managed. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself.
“Did Sungho give any reason? It doesn’t seem like him to miss out on a trip like this,” Riwoo said.
“No…No, he didn’t give me a reason.” Jaehyun sighed again. “He just apologised and hung up. It felt like him slamming the door on my face through the phone.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t go,” Riwoo offered.
“Well, we don’t really have a choice,” Jaehyun gestured vaguely at the terminal. “We’ve already checked-in. Our bags are probably already on the way to the flight. Not to mention the absolute shit ton of money we’ve already paid for the hotels and whatnot. We’re not getting refunds.”
Jaehyun looked at Riwoo. He was gazing at the ever-growing queue of immigration. He fidgeted with his fringe, moving the strands away from his glasses—a nervous habit Jaehyun had memorised over the years. Jaehyun caught a glimpse of the tiny mole below his left eye. He felt heat slowly creeping up to his cheeks, and he forced himself to look away.
How was he going to spend the next two weeks with his crush without combusting?
Jaehyun’s life had been perfect. His neighbourhood had a park. He had plenty of friends. His best friend had always been Sungho from across the street, of course. Both of them had been inseparable since kindergarten. Jaehyun had even thrown a tantrum at home just to get admitted in the same elementary school as Sungho.
Their little circle had organically grown around them. Sungho’s younger brother, Taesan, got along well with Leehan, who lived two houses down the lane from Jaehyun’s. Both of them were a year younger than Jaehyun and Sungho.
The youngest amongst them was Woonhak, Jaehyun’s younger brother, who was three years younger than Jaehyun. No matter how much Jaehyun pampered him, he always said that his favourite hyung was Leehan.
The five of them went to the same school, played at the same park, and had sleepovers nearly every weekend. Life was cool.
Until Riwoo moved into the house between Jaehyun’s and Leehan’s around 4th Grade. Unlike their loud friend group, Riwoo was shy and quiet. Sungho had been quick to befriend him. Leehan too. Making friends had always been easy for him; Riwoo had been an anomaly. It had been the first time Jaehyun had felt…different.
All of that changed after 12th Grade, when Jaehyun realised he had a massive crush on Riwoo at one of their usual sleepovers. Jaehyun had told only Sungho and Woonhak, unable to keep it under wraps completely. But he’d kept it hidden from the rest. He didn’t want to risk souring things with his friends by confessing.
For four years, Jaehyun had pulled through. Four years of him pining over a friend who wasn’t even that close to him—a boy he could only talk to when the safety net of their group was around to fill in the awkward silences between them. And now, he was stuck alone on a two week trip with Riwoo. A trip all six of them had planned for almost a month. A trip that had been approved by their parents too. And Jaehyun had never felt happier.
Things went south two days before the trip, when Woonhak had come home whining from baseball practice. “Hyung, I can’t come on the trip,” he’d said, dropping his heavy gear bag in the hallway with an exhausted thud. “There’s a tournament next week. And since I’m the captain, I have to be here, no matter what.”
The same evening, Leehan had shown up at Sungho’s, vibrating with excitement. He’d been invited to the National Conference on Marine Biology at Busan. His college project had impressed the panel and they wanted him to attend. And everyone knew Leehan loved fish. There was no way he’d turn down such an opportunity.
Now, Taesan and Sungho had backed out. That too without any explanation. Jaehyun had already been upset with Woonhak and Leehan dropping out. At least they had valid reasons. With Sungho, it was the last straw. A betrayal, almost. Given that Sungho knew he liked Riwoo, it was slowly starting to feel like a conspiracy.
Maybe the trip had been cursed from the beginning, Jaehyun thought while in line for immigration, disappointment settling in his stomach like a heavy stone. Why else would I be stuck with him?
Jaehyun blinked. Everything after Sungho’s call had felt like a dream, and he desperately wanted to wake up from it. Only he couldn’t. Here he was, sitting in the window seat while Riwoo was engrossed in his phone next to him.
The flight around them was a cacophony of sounds—wheels dragging, people talking over each other, and the constant ding of the intercom. A flight attendant stopped next to their row to patiently guide a confused elderly man to his seat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” the captain’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Welcome on board Korean Air flight KE677 from Incheon to Phuket. The flight duration will be six hours and twenty minutes. Till then, I shall leave you in the expert care of my crew. Sit back and relax as we fly to Thailand!”
Jaehyun peeked at Riwoo. He had his glasses perched low on his nose, and he looked completely comfortable. Almost as if the sudden change in their travel plans didn’t bother him.
Jaehyun shifted in his seat, the cheap fabric of the airline seat scratching his neck. He wanted to say something. Anything. To break the silence and the deafening noise of his own internal monologue.
“Are you still thinking about Sungho?” Riwoo finally asked, looking up from his phone.
Jaehyun immediately plastered on a look of nonchalance. “Nah. Just—it’s a long flight…Like the captain said. Six hours and twenty minutes…” He gave a vague, unconvincing shrug. “You really don’t mind they bailed?”
Riwoo leaned back into his seat, his gaze drifting towards the window as the aircraft pushed back from the terminal. “No,” he said softly, a smile on his face. “I’m glad we didn’t have to cancel.”
Is he glad to be stuck with me? Jaehyun’s chest swelled with hope. Or is he just glad he gets a vacation? It deflated just as quickly.
Jaehyun looked at Riwoo, expecting him to continue. He didn’t, and he promptly went back to scrolling on his phone. Jaehyun fiddled with the seatbelt strap, finding nothing else to do. The awkward silence that perpetually followed them everywhere returned.
The aircraft paused on the runway, its engines building to a deafening crescendo that vibrated through the floor and up Jaehyun’s seat. He gripped the armrest, watching the Incheon terminal blurring past him as the plane accelerated down the tarmac.
This is it, he thought, his heart pounding. Two weeks. Just us.
He glanced at Riwoo. He’d finally tucked his phone away and was leaning his head against the head rest, eyes closed. It felt unreal—the unexpected solitude with the boy he’d been pining over for four years. The anxiety was exhausting. As the plane ascended and levelled out, the steady drone of the engines became a lulling soundtrack. Jaehyun’s crush-induced tension finally gave way to fatigue. His head dropped softly against the window glass, and he drifted into sleep.
“Jaehyun-ah. Jaehyun-ah! Wake up!” Riwoo shook Jaehyun’s shoulder gently, his voice low.
Jaehyun groaned, his stiff neck muscles protesting as he lifted his head from the food tray. The cabin lights were bright, and the sky outside was dark.
“We’re about to land,” Riwoo murmured, straightening his glasses. Jaehyun sleepily closed the food tray and massaged his neck. When had he opened the food tray to sleep?
Moments later, the captain’s voice came over the speaker. “Cabin crew, to your landing stations, thank you.”
The aircraft shuddered as the landing gear dropped. Jaehyun watched the ground getting closer, his ear popping repeatedly. With a not-so-smooth thump, they were on the ground, followed by the mechanical roar of reverse thrust.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have landed at Phuket International Airport,” one of the flight attendants announced. “The temperature outside is a pleasant twenty six degrees, and the local time is 10:20 PM. Passengers are requested to remain seated until the seatbelt sign has been switched off. Thank you for choosing Korea Air, and we wish you a pleasant stay.”
The moment the seatbelt sign went off, the usual rush of passengers erupted. Jaehyun and Riwoo waited patiently to collect their backpacks from the overhead bin. They shuffled along the slow line off the plane and onto the aerobridge.
Their passports stamped and baggage collected, they headed to a tiny kiosk selling local SIM cards. A friendly, middle-aged lady behind the counter folded her hands and bowed slightly in greeting with a wide smile.
“Sawasdee khaa! Looking for SIM cards? 450 baht only. Best price in Phuket Airport, I guarantee.” She gestured at a few placards littered across the desk with various plans and offers.
Jaehyun scanned through them all, calculating and recalculating. Some of them felt like a complete waste of data. Others were too short. Finally, he zeroed in on one of the plans.
“Two SIMs, please,” he said, pointing at the placard.
“Passports and phones, please,” the lady asked, her hands stretched out to receive them. When Jaehyun handed them over to her, she bowed slightly again and set about setting up their SIMs. Once she had put the SIMs into their phones, she scribbled their numbers on a piece of paper with a marker and handed it to Jaehyun.
“Here are your local numbers. Each of you has 35 GB for 15 days. If you’d like to buy additional data, you can do it on our app. The 5G network should start soon. That will be…850 baht, totally.” She held up a calculator to display the amount.
Jaehyun handed her the money. She received it with the same small bow. “Khop khun khaa!” she said, returning the change to Jaehyun.
Wanting to be polite, Jaehyun bowed too. “Khop khun khaa,” he muttered.
The SIM lady chuckled. “No, no. Men say khaap. With a ‘p’ at the end. Khaa is for women.”
Jaehyun’s face went red with embarrassment. “Sorry,” he said, bowing again.
“It’s okay. Everyone makes that mistake on their first try,” she reassured. She looked between Jaehyun and Riwoo, and her smile broadened. “You two are a lovely couple. Have a wonderful trip!”
Jaehyun’s breath hitched. He felt heat instantly flood his face once again. He risked a sideways glance at Riwoo, hoping he hadn’t heard her. Riwoo’s ears had turned a faint pink.
“Oh, we—” Jaehyun started.
“Thank you,” Riwoo said smoothly, taking their phones and passports from the desk. He didn’t look at Jaehyun as he quickly steered him away from the counter.
The taxi ride had been in complete silence, with Jaehyun catching Riwoo’s reflection in the glass as he watched the landscape morph through the window. The air was thick with humidity and awkwardness, the “couple” comment still hanging between them.
Their taxi pulled up to the front of a small boutique hotel tucked away in an alley of Old Town, Phuket. Its facade was covered in creeping ivy. Riwoo paid the taxi driver as Jaehyun unloaded their suitcases. They entered the hotel lobby, where the air conditioning felt like relief from the outside humidity.
Jaehyun approached the reception desk first. A young man manned the dark wooden counter. He stood up and folded his hands to greet them with a polite Sawasdee khaap.
“We have a reservation under Taesan,” Jaehyun said, placing his passport on the desk. “Booking for six people.”
“Could you please spell it out?” the receptionist asked politely.
“T-A-E-S-A-N,” Riwoo spelled it out, placing his passport alongside Jaehyun’s.
The receptionist tapped at his keyboard, his brow furrowing slightly. “I apologise, sir. But I don’t see a reservation under the name ‘Taesan’. Are you sure you have a reservation?”
Jaehyun looked at the receptionist in confusion. It was unlikely for someone as sharp and detail-oriented as Taesan to mess up a booking like this.
“Maybe try under his name? J-A-E-H-Y-U-N,” Riwoo asked the receptionist.
The receptionist typed again. “Ah, yes. Mr. Jaehyun. There is a booking.” He paused, looking confused again. “But it’s a booking for two people. One room.”
Jaehyun felt a strange knot forming in his stomach. “Two? But we definitely booked for six. Four of our friends dropped out, but the original booking should have been for six. Was the reservation modified in the past few days?”
“I see no record of modification, sir,” the receptionist replied, his tone flat and professional. “The reservation for one room for two guests was made and confirmed two weeks ago.”
Two weeks ago? But that was before Woonhak and Leehan even bailed. A suspicion was crystallising in Jaehyun’s brain. Sungho and Taesan bailed just this morning. Yet the booking is only for two people, and not modified at all…Had they planned this all along? What is going on today?
Riwoo frowned slightly, taking his passport back. “Well, as long as the room exists, that’s what matters, I suppose. Taesan must’ve fixed it somehow without telling anyone. After all, he is pretty smart.” He tried to sound reassuring, but his voice was tight.
Riwoo’s quick and smooth dismissal of the issue—sounding perfectly calm—only reinforced Jaehyun’s sinking uncertainty. Is he genuinely oblivious? Or is he also in on the plan? No, definitely oblivious, Jaehyun deduced.
The receptionist, unfazed, picked up a keycard and gestured towards the elevator. “Right this way. We hope you enjoy your stay.”
They followed the receptionist into an elevator that was barely big enough for three people and their luggage. As the door hissed shut, Jaehyun found himself wedged against Riwoo, the receptionist facing the controls. Being significantly taller, Jaehyun tried to lean back, but there was nowhere to go. The confined space made him feel large and clumsy. The sweet scent of Riwoo’s shampoo, right beneath Jaehyun’s nose, was overwhelming. Jaehyun’s heart hammered against his ribs. He clutched his backpack straps tighter. He didn’t dare move, trying to breathe shallowly, praying for the elevator to go faster.
Riwoo shifted slightly, his gaze darting up to the floor display. But then his eyes dropped, and he looked directly at Jaehyun. His glasses magnified his dark eyes. The intense eye contact was unnervingly close and impossible to break. Riwoo’s face was only inches away, his expression serious, maybe even a little trapped. The silence was deafening, amplified by the ludicrously small space. Jaehyun felt his cheeks flush deep red. He broke eye contact first, staring hard at the floor display as it finally clicked onto “4”.
When the doors slid open, the receptionist quickly stepped out. Jaehyun stumbled after him, desperate to escape the suffocating closeness.
They followed the receptionist down the hall to room 402. He opened the door, handed Jaehyun the keycard, and wished them a good night before disappearing back down the hallway.
Jaehyun stepped inside, taking in the small room. It was definitely a two-person room, exactly what the receptionist had said. There were comfy chairs and a coffee table. Jaehyun dropped his backpack on one of the chairs and continued scanning the room, as Riwoo explored the bathroom. The room was dominated by one single, large bed—a plush king size.
Jaehyun froze. The inescapable truth slammed into him. One bed. Not two singles pushed together. Just a king-sized bed.
“Ya, Jaehyun-ah, the bathroom has a huge tub—” Riwoo stepped out of the bathroom and stopped mid-sentence. Jaehyun spun around, feeling breathless as Riwoo stared at the expanse of the mattress. Neither of them said a word. The realisation was mutual and overwhelming.
They’d have to share the bed.