Archive of Our Own

Han hated the rain.

To him, it was never just water falling from the sky—it was a cruel reminder of everything he wished he could forget. Each drop carried the weight of memories too heavy to bear, and every storm seemed to mock his pain. He often wondered if the world despised him, if the rain itself was a punishment for sins he couldn’t even remember committing. Sometimes, he asked himself if he had done something unforgivable in a past life, something so terrible that even nature turned against him.

At thirteen.

Han’s world shifted. It was a gray Tuesday, and the rain fell lightly as if the sky itself mourned alongside him. That was the day both of his parents had a downfall, his father’s betrayal through infidelity and his mother’s decision to file for divorce. Han felt lost, unsure of what to do; he was only thirteen until he learned that his mother would be marrying another man. This man introduced himself as Han’s new father, and with him came another change; on that random day, Han suddenly gained an older brother, Steven, three years older. 

At first, Han hated Steven. To him, Steven was nothing more than an intruder, a stranger forced into his life without warning. Their interactions were awkward, tense, filled with silence, and Han resented the idea of having to share his world with someone he hadn't chosen. But as time passed, just like a tamed cat, the hostility began to fade. Slowly, their bond grew stronger, shaped by shared experiences and quiet moments of understanding. Han found himself leaning on Steven more than he expected, relying on his presence in ways he couldn’t explain. 

Eventually, their connection became so deep that people often asked if they were truly not brothers by blood. The question made sense—their bond was even stronger than that of real brothers by blood. What had begun with hatred and resistance transformed into dependence and trust. Han realized that Steven had become one of the most important pillars in his life. 

At sixteen.

The rain returned, and with it came the unraveling of Han’s family once more. His mother faced another divorce, but before Han could even process the sudden news, tragedy struck; she left the world in an accident. Han remembered the hollow silence of the house afterward, the way the rain tapped against the window as if echoing his loneliness. He could never bring himself to hate the abruptness of it all, because the accident had stolen her away without warning. The memory of that day haunted him: a damaged car and, inside, a woman trapped, her eyes locking with his as if pleading for forgiveness for leaving him so early. Whenever the cold rain seeped into his skin, that image returned, making him shiver with grief. 

Steven, his older brother, carried his own guilt. He often asked Han for forgiveness on behalf of their father, who didn’t even bat an eye after losing his late wife and still continue to pursue another partner. The coldness of that decision cut deep, and it was enough to make Steven sever ties with his own father. Yet Steven’s presence in Han’s life was more than just apologies or shared grief. He became the one who stood beside Han when the silence of the house grew unbearable, the one who shielded him from the weight of their father’s choices. 

Steven filled the void their mother had left, not by replacing her but by becoming the steady figure Han could lean on. He was the voice that reminded Han he wasn’t alone, the hand that pulled him back when despair threatened to consume him. 

And by twenty.

The rain had become unbearable. It was on one stormy night that Han realized the truth he had unknowingly buried deep within himself. The downpour outside masked the tears streaming down his face, and the rhythm of the raindrops sounded like his heart breaking. That night, he understood the depth of his feelings—feelings he had tried to deny, feelings that made him ache with both love and despair. The rain had betrayed him, forcing him to confront emotions he wished had stayed hidden.

For every drop that fell, Han felt the weight of memories tied to Steven. Every laugh, every comfort, every moment that revolved around his older brother slowly revealed a terrifying truth: his feelings were not just brotherly love. Steven was not simply family; he was someone Han had loved all along, an individual who had once been a stranger but had become the center of his world. The realization struck harder than any storm, leaving Han trembling at the thought that his heart had crossed a line he could never retreat from.

That night, the heavy rain poured as Han made his way home from a group meeting. He carried churros in his bag, his older brother’s favorite snack and a bribe as well, for Steven, who was waiting at home. Han wanted to return quickly, not only because of the storm but also because the rain always dragged him back to the trauma of his mother’s accident. And yet, every time it rained, Steven was there to comfort him, to shield him from the memories that threatened to consume him.

But as Han approached the house, the sight that greeted him shattered everything. He thought the silhouette waiting at the door was Steven, steady as always against the storm. Instead, he saw Steven kissing another man. In that exact moment, something inside Han snapped. His chest tightened, his breath faltered, and before he could stop himself, he ran faster than he ever imagined possible.

The image echoed through his mind, replaying endlessly with every beat of the rain. It was a sight that broke him, a sight that made him realize the truth he had buried for years: he was in love with his older brother. The storm outside became the storm within, and Han knew from that night forward that the rain would never be just rain again. It would always be the cruel reminder of the love he could never claim.

-

Han shivered as the cold dampness clung to his forehead, a sudden gasp tearing him awake. The abrupt wakefulness left him dizzy, his vision swimming. Before he could rise, a firm hand pressed gently against his shoulder, steadying him. It was Steven, his older brother.

“H-hyung? " Han's voice trembled, fragile in the silence.

“Why did you run last night? I was calling your name.” Steven’s tone carried both concern and quiet reproach. He sat beside Han, carefully wiping the towel across Han’s face, each touch deliberate, almost tender.

As the dizziness began to fade, Han became aware of Steven’s presence in a way that unsettled him. His older brother leaned closer, inch by inch, until the space between them seemed to vanish. Han froze, too stunned to move, his breath caught in his throat.

Steven’s gaze locked onto his, unyielding, as though searching for something hidden deep within Han’s soul. The intensity of it made Han’s chest tighten, his heart pounding against his ribs. He could only stare back, helpless, as if the world had narrowed to this single moment. The rain outside, the silence within, and the closeness of the brother he both depended on and feared to lose.

Then Steven’s fingers brushed against Han’s lips. The touch was fleeting yet electric, sending confusion spiraling through Han’s mind. What was his brother doing? Han’s thoughts tangled, his heart racing. Only last night had he realized the truth he had buried within himself—that he was in love with his older brother. And now, it felt as though Steven was testing him, pushing him toward the edge of that forbidden realization.

A gulp escaped Han, breaking the quiet and awkward atmosphere between them. The sound was small, but it echoed in the stillness, a fragile reminder of the storm raging inside him.

Han unwillingly shut his eyes tight—and then he felt it. Steven’s soft lips pressed against his own. One second. Two seconds. Three. A fleeting three‑second peck that made Han catch his breath as though the air had been stolen from him.

Steven pulled back abruptly, standing up with a sharp shake of his head. His voice was barely a whisper, heavy with conflict. “This is wrong…”

But Han, still dazed, reached out instinctively and caught Steven’s hand. His eyes lifted, locking onto his beloved older brother. “Hyung…”

Steven froze, torn between pulling away and staying. He tried to free his hand, but Han’s sudden tug made him stumble. With a startled yelp, Steven fell onto the bed, and in that instant Han moved, his body hovering above, arms braced to lock him in place.

For the first time, Han felt a surge of confidence, a reckless courage born from years of suppressed feelings. His voice trembled but carried a new edge.

“Why are you teasing me like that? ” Han asked, his words heavy with both accusation and longing.

Steven’s eyes widened, caught between shock and the undeniable truth reflected in Han’s gaze. And in a single minute, Han didn’t hesitate—he claimed his older brother just like that. The atmosphere grew heavy, filled only with the sound of their breaths and the closeness that wrapped around the room.

Heavy breathing, Steven clinging closer to Han, painted the very image of what was happening. Han, who loved to stare at his older brother’s face, gazed at him intently, as though trying to catch every word Steven was mumbling under his breath. His brows furrowed, straining to listen.

Then, suddenly, Han froze. His eyes widened in disbelief. The sound Steven was making wasn’t a confession, nor a plea. It was… his alarm clock.

His eyes snapped open, and the truth hit him like a wave. He had been dreaming all along.

Reality settled in with a rush of embarrassment. Han lay frozen, his heart pounding, his body tense. Then he felt it — an uncomfortable sensation down in his shorts. His underwear was tight, and the realization made his cheeks burn. At his age, having a wet dream felt humiliating, almost unforgivable.

Han buried his face in his pillow, wishing the rain outside could wash away the shame. The dream had felt so real, so vivid, that waking from it left him hollow and… yearning for more. 

The agony felt endless. Every time it rained, Han would drift into dreams he couldn’t control—dreams where he crossed the line he feared most, where he gave in to the forbidden desire for his older brother. The intensity of those dreams shook him to the core, ranging from clumsy kisses to vivid, unthinkable intimacies that left him trembling when he woke.

Each morning was a cruel reminder. Han would stare at his damp sheets, his face burning with shame. The realization embarrassed him so deeply that he began to avoid Steven without even noticing. He came home late, using group projects as an excuse. He woke early, slipping out before Steven could rouse him. Every action was carefully designed to keep distance, though his heart ached for closeness.

This behavior continued, and Steven felt it. Han’s avoidance was sharp, almost like he was treating him as a virus. Steven didn’t know what to do. Ever since Han’s mother had left them, Steven had stood as Han’s pillar, filling the void and shielding him from loneliness. To suddenly be pushed away left him confused and unsettled.

And to be honest, Steven’s own heart was conflicted. The way Han avoided him made him question everything. As an older brother, wasn’t it wrong to feel something more? Even if they weren’t bound by blood, they had once been a family. That truth weighed heavily on him, tearing him apart inside.

Every time it rained, Steven’s chest tightened. His eyes would instinctively search for Han, his heart aching with the need to comfort him. The rain was their bond, their shared wound, and it reminded Steven of his responsibility. He couldn’t afford to spill his overwhelming feelings. Han was his only family now. They only had each other. To confess would risk breaking the fragile bond that kept them both alive. So Steven told himself this setup was enough—as long as Han was by his side, even in silence.

But one day, Steven felt the awkward atmosphere between them sharpen. It was the day he saw Han running away.

That night, one of Steven’s friends confessed to him. Surprised, Steven wanted to try; maybe this connection could erase the feelings he carried for Han. So, in the rain, he kissed his friend.

The pitter-patter of raindrops filled the air, drowning the world in noise. Yet the sudden clatter of an umbrella hitting the ground broke through. Steven pulled back abruptly, his eyes darting toward the sound.

There, in the dim light, he saw a familiar figure fleeing. Han.

A tug in Steven’s chest tightened painfully. The rhythm of the rain became the rhythm of Han’s footsteps, echoing in his ears. And in that moment, the world fell unbearably quiet.

Han couldn’t take it anymore. The silence between him and Steven was unbearable, and the distance he had created gnawed at him every day. He knew Steven had noticed his avoidance, and guilt weighed heavily on his chest. Tonight, Han promised himself he would apologize. But fate had other plans; one of his classmates dragged him into a drinking party, and before he realized it, the night had slipped away.

Meanwhile, Steven was at home, happily cooking dinner. Today was his birthday, and though he had a wish of his own that Han would finally talk to him again, he decided to surprise his younger brother instead. He knew Han’s schedule by heart, confident that Han would be home by six.

The dining table was nearly complete, decorated with Han’s favorite dishes, his favorite dessert, and Steven’s birthday cake. A satisfied smile spread across Steven’s face as he tied the last balloon. Just then, his phone rang.

It was Han.

“Hello? Are you on your way home now?" Steven asked, his voice warm with anticipation.

“About that…” an unfamiliar voice answered, followed by a cough. “I don’t think Han can get home on his own. He’s drunk. This is Steven-hyung, right?”

Steven sighed, disappointment washing over him. This was the first time he had ever heard of Han drinking — and on his birthday, of all days. For context, Han had never once skipped Steven’s birthday. Even when they fought, Han always made sure to surprise him.

“Where are you guys?” Steven asked firmly.

After getting the address, Steven ended the call and drove straight to the pub. When he arrived, a drunk Han stumbled toward him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hyung!” Han pushed his friends aside and ran into Steven’s arms, hugging him tightly. For Han, hugging Steven was home. He buried his face against Steven’s neck, giggling as he inhaled the familiar fragrance that always calmed him.

Steven bid Han’s friends goodbye and made sure to bring him home in one piece. On the drive back, Han sat in the passenger seat, laughing even as his eyes fluttered closed. Steven glanced at him and scoffed softly.

“How could you forget my birthday, huh…” Steven teased, pinching Han’s nose.

Han swatted his hand away, sitting up straighter and staring at him with bleary eyes. “Huh… are we doing it here?”

Steven blinked, confused. “Doing what here?” he asked.

Han smiled faintly, bowing his head. “You know…”

But before Steven could respond, a soft snore filled the car. Han had fallen asleep, his drunken grin still lingering. Steven shook his head in disbelief, a chuckle escaping him. He should have taken a video; it would have been the perfect material to tease Han with for the rest of his life.

When they reached home, Steven carried Han on his back. He carefully lowered him onto the bed, but before he could let go, Han tightened his grip, pulling Steven down beside him.

Han took a deep breath and snuggled closer, his warmth pressing against Steven’s back. Steven could feel Han’s breath against the nape of his neck, each exhale sending shivers down his spine. He tried to sneak away, but then he heard Han mumble.

Even though it was faint, Steven heard it loud and clear.

“Steven-hyung… I like you…”

Steven’s breath stopped for a second. His heart lurched violently, pounding against his chest. He hadn’t expected those words—not from Han, not like this. Abruptly, he stood up, leaving Han asleep in his room. His pulse raced, his thoughts tangled, and he didn’t know what to do. He was both elated and terrified, happy yet conflicted.

Steven! Wake up! Han likes you too! One voice in his head shouted, urging him to embrace the truth.

Would you really throw away your family bond for a silly confession? Another voice countered, sharp and condemning.

Steven sat down on his own bed, hugging his knees tightly as he buried his face against them. His heart was beating like hell, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t calm it. The rain outside tapped against the windows, echoing the storm inside him.

He wanted to believe the first voice, that Han’s words were real, that his feelings weren’t one-sided. But the second voice reminded him of the consequences. They weren’t bound by blood, but they had once been family. Could he risk breaking the fragile bond that had kept them together all these years?

Steven closed his eyes, torn between desire and duty. The confession replayed in his mind, each syllable burning into him. He wanted to hold onto it, to believe it, but fear kept him shackled.

For now, he told himself, silence was safer.

But second after, the silence broke when Steven’s door swung open. Han stood there, his gaze steady, unwavering. Without hesitation, he walked toward Steven and sat down in front of him, cupping his face gently in his hands.

Steven froze, unsure of what to do. His breath caught when he felt the wetness on his lips; Han had leaned forward and licked his lower lip, clumsy and tender, almost like a kitten. Steven nearly scoffed at the absurdity of it, but the seriousness in Han’s eyes kept him still.

He tried to push Han’s face away, his voice firm. “Stop, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not,” Han answered, his tone steady despite the alcohol.

“I know you heard me,” he added, his words sharp and deliberate.

Steven shook his head, trying to deny what was unfolding. “Stop this, Park Han. You’re drunk. And whatever you said, I didn’t hear it.”

But Han didn’t back down. His voice rose, dragging each word with stubborn clarity. “I like you. There, I said it. Loud… and… clear.”

Steven sighed, his chest tightening. He tried to push Han away again, but Han was relentless, refusing to budge.

“Fine,” Han said, his eyes burning with determination. “I’m going to kiss you. And on the count of three, if you don’t push me away, it means you like me too.”

Steven gulped, his throat dry.

“One…” Han’s voice stretched the word, giving Steven time to decide, to escape if he wanted.

“Two…”

Steven closed his eyes as Han leaned closer, their breaths mingling, the gap between them shrinking to nothing.

“Three…” Han whispered, and then his lips pressed softly against Steven’s.

The kiss was gentle at first, trembling with hesitation, but it carried a yearning that pierced straight into Steven’s heart. He tried to resist, but the dam inside him broke. The kiss deepened, and Steven could no longer hold back. He had liked Han for so long—silently, painfully. If not for the circumstances that bound them as brothers seven years ago, he might have loved Han freely, without guilt.

Steven wrapped his arms around Han’s neck, returning the kiss with equal intensity. Both of them were drowning in the same longing, the same forbidden desire. 

Eventually, the soft pitter-patter against the window grew louder; it was raining again.

Han realized that every time something important was about to happen, the rain seemed to give its sympathy. Tonight, however, it felt different. Tonight, it felt as though all the bad memories tied to the rain might finally fade away.

A soft groan escaped Steven’s lips, and Han leaned closer, pressing his mouth against the curve of Steven’s neck. He bit gently, then sucked at the skin, leaving behind a faint reddish mark. Steven shivered at the sensation, his breath hitching. Han wanted to keep his own sounds contained, but Steven was stubborn with one deep thrust, Han's voice broke through, muffled against Steven’s shoulder.

“Hey… I want to hear you,” Steven whispered, his tone low and hushed, almost pleading. He looked at Han, whose eyes brimmed with tears, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Steven smiled faintly, leaning in again, unable to resist the pull of Han’s lips. It was as if he were becoming addicted to the taste, the closeness, and the forbidden tenderness they shared.

With every kiss, every exchange of breath, Steven’s restraint unraveled. The rhythm between them grew faster, more desperate, as though seven years of hidden feelings were finally breaking free. Each touch carried the weight of longing, each embrace a release of the pain they had both carried in silence.

The rain outside continued its steady song, but inside, it was drowned out by the storm of emotions between them. For the first time, neither of them felt alone in the rain.