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1: Birds of a Feather
It’s easy to know what the person who is always next to you does. When they dance, their routines demand the knowledge of every member’s precise position.
His experience informs him that Kim Iwol is making mistakes.
They’re small mistakes, likely going unnoticed by the audience and probably most of the other members. Jeho has spent too much time watching Kim Iwol dance and exist to know that his steps are subtly lacking confidence; when he moves his arms, they’re delayed, as if his mind and body are running at different paces.
Their performance isn’t perfect. Perfection isn’t necessary anyway. The Sparklers enjoy it loudly, and all the members hit their marks well.
Jeho observes the members as the music stops. They grin and wave to the crowd. Kim Iwol is the first to thank the audience for their time. His breathing is completely regular despite the intricate choreography. His shoulders are broad and steady. Still, Jeho watches him.
He lags on stage to follow Kim Iwol out. He says nothing.
Then, Kang Kiyeon walks up to Kim Iwol and taps his shoulder.
Kim Iwol turns and blinks.
Jeho steps closer, holding out a towel. “Do you feel ill?”
He glances at the towel, then to Jeho’s face. His expression freezes.
“Hyung?” Park Joowoo is still trying to catch his breath.
“Are you alright, hyung?” Kang Kieyon asks.
After staring at Jeho for an unreasonable amount of time, Kim Iwol blinks once and tears drip down his cheeks.
Jeho stiffens. Had he said it in a bad way? He wasn’t thinking about his tone. Did he sound too abrasive, enough to make Kim Iwol cry?
Before Jeho could do anything, Kim Iwol steps forward and falls into him.
Immediately, Jeho catches him.
His shoulders tremble. His hands are tight as they grip Jeho’s clothes. He sobs openly and bitterly.
He’s not sick, Jeho realizes. It’s much worse—Jeho can’t do anything about whatever has brought Kim Iwol down. It feels like sadness; Jeho can’t do anything against sadness.
All he can do is keep Kim Iwol from the consequences. He has chosen to cling to Jeho, so he’ll protect him. After all, Kim Iwol isn’t the type to cry. He’s even less likely to cry in a public setting where everyone can see.
Jeho wraps himself around Kim Iwol, dwarfing him in his hold. He grabs the jacket Lee Cheonghyeon pulled off his back and drapes it over Kim Iwol’s head. He does a lot more than support his weight as he keeps him shielded from the limelight. He practically drags him toward the green room, with the younger members clearing the way and bringing up the rear to keep eyes off the tightly bound pair.
In the green room, Jeho sits, and Kim Iwol follows, wailing into his shirt.
Jeong Seongbin swallows, clutching his hands. “Hyung, is something wrong with Iwol hyung?”
“He must be tired.” Park Joowoo frowns.
“Iwol hyung has never cried because he’s tired…!” Lee Cheonghyeon exclaims.
Kang Kiyeon shushes his friend, sitting next to his hyungs as he rubs Kim Iwol’s shoulder.
Jeho doesn’t say that he’s not sure what’s happening. Kim Iwol was fine through rehearsals, hair and makeup, and getting on stage. He was good on stage too, until he wasn’t. Now, as he grips Jeho’s shirt, his heaves and gasps cover up the small No! No! Nuh-uh!s he whispers to no one in particular.
Jeho has to push in even closer to hear it. What’s there to do about this? All Jeho does is keep his hands on Kim Iwol’s back as he exhausts himself in tears.
Ten minutes later, he really is asleep.
Jeong Seongbin had been in and out of the room talking with the managers, while the other three paced, searching for solutions and answers to questions they don’t yet have the oxygen to properly ask.
Once Jeho realizes the shivering has subsided, and Kim Iwol’s gone too still to be awake, he shifts. “Drink water and towel off. Lee Cheonghyeon, go tell Jeong Seongbin that we’re leaving.”
“But, Iwol hyung is—!”
Park Joowoo pats his back. “Come on. We can go together.”
Lee Cheonghyeon tucks his hands into his armpits with a frown but complies.
Kang Kiyeon, finally having raised his head from his closed-eyed breathing exercises, narrows his eyes. “Hyung, did you notice?”
“Notice what?”
“When Iwol hyung wasn’t doing well.”
Had he? For a guy so obsessed with giving their fans nothing shy of a perfect performance every time, he had been uncharacteristically sloppy. No, Jeho probably noticed too late.
Kim Iwol, despite his total exhaustion, has a scrunched-up face and hands that do not let up as they wrinkle Jeho’s clothes.
Jeho looks away. “He could be tired.”
Kang Kiyeon frowns. “Do you really believe that, hyung?”
Well, Kim Iwol has always had his secrets. To have chosen to cry in someone’s arms, though, isn’t something Jeho can overlook. He won’t ask any questions, of course, but he’s the one who carries Kim Iwol to the car.
With their manager looking on, Jeho buckles Kim Iwol into his seat and slides in next to him. Kim Iwol’s head falls onto his shoulder. In the dark parking lot, it’s just those two who occupy this space. Jeho had sent the kids to say goodbye on their behalf, and the managers are around, wrapping up all the other loose threads that Kim Iwol would throw a fit over.
What did he see up there? Better yet, knowing Kim Iwol, what had he merely thought strongly enough to undo all the emotional braces in his relentless heart?
Jeho pulls his sleeve down, patting Kim Iwol’s cheeks to soak up his salty, slumbering tears. “Whatever it was, you can rest now.”
Sharply swallowing as he buckled himself in, Kang Kiyeon says, “Maybe he’s burnt out.”
“So,” Lee Cheonghyeon concludes, “he needs a break, a vacation.”
2: Flock Together
“Hyung.”
“Huh.”
“Did Iwol hyung ever mention what happened at the last concert?”
Jeho squints. “I thought you would have tried.”
Lee Cheonghyeon pouts. “You know hyung only talks to you about that stuff!”
“What stuff?”
His eye twitches.
“Now, now!” Jeong Seongbin stands in the doorway of Jeho and Kang Kiyeon’s room. He claps once. “Cheonghyeon, it’s not fair to assume what made Iwol hyung upset last time. He told us that something reminded him of something painful. Jeho hyung might not know more than that.”
“That’s what I’m telling you,” Jeho states.
“Still!” Lee Cheonghyeon throws up his hands. “It’s not like hyung cries often! We should find out what happened!”
Jeho shifts his pillow and stands. “I thought going on vacation was supposed to take our minds off that.”
Jeong Seongbin smiles awkwardly. “Well, to take Iwol hyung’s mind off it. Whatever we can do to make him happy…”
“Isn’t he happy enough?” Jeho points out, brushing past them.
After all, they’re vacationing overseas to a place Kim Iwol’s never been before, and he always enjoys getting to be with the kids.
Jeho hears them following him down the stairs of their rental property, but says nothing. He’d only gone upstairs to take his contacts out and replace them with glasses. They still need to clean up the kitchen before they can wind down.
Immediately upon walking into the kitchen, Kim Iwol calls out to him. “Choi Jeho, can you take out the trash?”
Wordlessly, he takes the outstretched trash and walks outside.
It’s dark and humid outside, but the lights lining the streets are bright enough to walk confidently. He still has to walk through a winding yard to reach the waste disposal bin. He takes it as his rare moment to be away from everyone, so he takes his time.
When he comes back inside, everyone turns to him instantly.
He pays them no mind, walking to the sink.
“Hyung, can you see outside?” Kang Kiyeon asks.
He nods as he washes his hands.
“Even if Choi Jeho couldn’t see,” Kim Iwol rationalizes, “I can, so it’s not like he’d be blind.”
Park Joowoo clears his throat. “If you have to look out for Jeho hyung, that defeats the purpose of him going with you.”
“There’s no problem then!” Kim Iwol strides up to Jeho as he dries his hands, and pats his arm. “We can both see! We’ll be fine! You kids go pick a movie. Choi Jeho will accompany me to the convenience store.”
Jeho blinks. “Right now?”
“Right now.”
“It’s late.”
Kim Iwol frowns. “The kids say they want drinks.”
Jeho begins to open his mouth.
Kim Iwol’s mouth is flattened into a line.
He glances at the other four. He sighs. “Let me grab a jacket.”
Upstairs, he grabs a jacket from his room and a sweatshirt from the room down the hall. Downstairs, he presses the sweatshirt and a mask into Kim Iwol’s ever-active hands.
“Let’s go,” he says, “before it gets too late.”
Kim Iwol slides the sweatshirt on, promising to be safe and repeating that Jeho will be by his side the entire time.
Despite the humidity, neither mentions the heat clinging between their skin and their outerwear layer; it’s just a necessary precaution for idols in public.
Waiting at an intersection, Jeho says, “The managers could go instead.”
“They deserve some vacation too.”
“Did you lose rock paper scissors? The kids should have gone since they wanted the drinks.”
“I offered.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to go outside. I didn’t expect so much resistance though.”
Jeho all but rolls his eyes. “Kim Iwol.” He shouldn’t need to remind him that the last time he’d gone to the convenience by himself at night, Jeho received a terrible call, and they spent the next day at the hospital.
“I get it, I do,” he reassures Jeho. “They were quick to let me go after I said you’d come with me.”
“Why me?”
For a moment, Kim Iwol says nothing. He just adjusts his mask to fit better over his nose. “Am I a burden to them?”
“Did they do something?” he asks mildly.
He taps his arm as they round the corner. “Of course, not. I just… I get the feeling like I’m weighing them down.”
“The kids are honest. They’ve always told the truth,” Jeho states plainly.
“I know that.” Kim Iwol scratches his head.
Jeho blinks at the convenience store lights as he opens the door.
“I might be imagining things.” He tucks his hands into his armpits and wanders the store.
Jeho follows.
“I thought the point of counseling was that I wouldn’t have to deal with my problems so much. What happened on stage was unexpected,” he reveals. He swallows as he picks out a drink. “It’s unsettling.”
“Do you think they’re bothered by what happened?”
“Bothered?” He reads the label before putting the drink back.
Jeho stares at the displays, pointing to another product.
Kim Iwol nods.
Jeho plucks the drink from the fridge.
“They’re worried about me. I don’t want them to worry over unimportant things.”
“You’re not unimportant in their eyes,” Jeho reminds him.
“I mean, it’s not their issue to deal with.”
“You’re allowed to intervene in our issues, but we can’t do the same for you?” he counters.
“Don’t make that face; you’ll get wrinkles.” He grabs a few more drinks, then walks to the counter.
As Kim Iwol sorts through the bottles to double-check the labels, Jeho pulls out his phone and pays. He hands Kim Iwol the receipt after he’s organized the drinks, and carries the bag. Kim Iwol checks the receipt and thanks the cashier.
Halfway back to their rental, Jeho says, “You’ve never been a burden to them. You probably never could.”
After a passing silence, Kim Iwol asks, “You think…?”
“I know.”
“That’s awfully confident.”
“They have a lot of confidence in you.”
For the rest of their walk, they say nothing. They move so silently that the others don’t even notice they’re back. They talk loudly in the kitchen as the scent of popcorn fills the house.
“—never could have a dog! Oh, but that one was so cute!” Lee Cheonghyeon exclaims.
“Since you don’t live with your parents, you could have a dog now,” Kang Kiyeon notes.
“Not in the dorms,” Jeong Seongbin adds. “Joowoo’s sensitive to dander.”
Park Joowoo hangs his head. “Maybe one day, though, Cheonghyeon! If we live separately, you could have your own yard for your dogs.”
Lee Cheonghyeon whistles. “That’s an idea, huh? But not for a long time, hyung!”
“Ah, Seongbin, the popcorn!” Park Joowoo says.
As he and Kim Iwol enter the kitchen, Jeho witnesses a flurry of movement. Disposing of burnt popcorn, he leaves the house once more as the others open windows to clear the air. When he returns, Kim Iwol is the only one in the kitchen, intensely monitoring the popcorn.
The kids start their movie, settling in with drinks and popcorn. Kim Iwol reminds them not to overeat before bed, but food and drink aren’t their downfall tonight. Too much vacation excitement conks them out before the third act of the movie.
Jeho, for one, actually thinks the movie is good. Kim Iwol has moved on to writing something in his notebook. The hyungs, engrossed in their respective work and relaxation, don’t notice when the rest of the audience has gone to sleep. Jeho turns when he notices light snoring on the other side of the couch.
Kang Kiyeon is slumped with Park Joowoo on his shoulder. Jeong Seongbin’s hand is unmoving in the popcorn bowl, while Lee Cheonghyeon’s head hangs, and his mouth is wide open.
Jeho pats Park Joowoo’s shoulder. “Park Joowoo.”
Kim Iwol turns, then rises.
He stirs and blinks.
“Go to bed.” He tugs his arm, offering support for his sleepy dongsaeng. “Do you need help getting upstairs?”
He shakes his head. “Good night, hyung.”
As Kim Iwol turns off the TV and cleans up the space, Jeho picks up Kang Kiyeon. “I’ll bring Lee Cheonghyeon up, too.”
Following several steps behind a slow Park Joowoo, Jeho brings Kang Kiyeon to their shared room. He turns on a dim light in the hall and goes back.
The downstairs is quiet, clean, and dark. Jeho shuffled the long, sprawling Lee Cheonghyeon into his hold. Before he ascends, he checks that Kim Iwol is fine to carry Jeong Seongbin upstairs.
“I can handle walking 10 meters.”
Jeho doesn’t mention that carrying the dead weight of an unconscious person upstairs is not the same as walking; Jeho doesn’t like to mention the experience he has in this specific circumstance, especially not to Kim Iwol, so he keeps his mouth shut and leads the way.
Silently, they set their kids into bed and tuck them into their blankets.
Jeho leaves first, but Kim Iwol is only half a step behind him, closing the door on the way out.
Kim Iwol pauses in the hall, whispering, “You can go in. I’ll get the light.”
He nods. “Sleep well, Kim Iwol.”
“Good night, Choi Jeho.”
Jeho hums as they part, moving in opposing directions down the hall until the lights turn off, and the doors of completely different rooms shut.
3: You Scratch My Back
The bed rumbles.
In the corner of Jeho’s consciousness, he hears whimpering. What would normally be relentless chirping has become an animal wounded. And if Jeho’s mind is being as honest as it can be, this pain is lying in his own bed.
His eyes flutter open. The specially made fire nightlight illuminates the outlet next to their closed bedroom door. Jeho turns his head to the side. Kim Iwol is sitting up, face resting on his knees as he holds his hair. Each breath is merely a sharp sniffle.
“Kim Iwol,” Jeho croaks, shuffling to sit up.
His head flicks quickly. He tenses. His eyes are wide. The red of his cheeks is interrupted by slow-moving tears. He looks like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing.
Jeho squints and tilts his head.
In the back of his throat, Kim Iwol tries to speak. It’s only a strained inhale, however. When he finally exhales, it’s a stumbling mess. “Ch—Choi Jeho…” he gasps. “Choi Jeho!” he repeats as his tears pick up pace.
Jeho shuffles closer.
Kim Iwol throws himself onto Jeho, sobbing uninhibitedly.
Jeho catches him before they both tumble off the bed. His hands rub up and down Kim Iwol’s sweaty back. He glances to the side and finds that it’s barely morning. He and Kim Iwol had gone to bed hardly two hours ago, and, despite his record of ignoring his need for sleep, Jeho has no real reason to doubt that Kim Iwol had actually gone to sleep beside him. That meant something happened in the quiet darkness that Jeho was too asleep to notice.
“A bad dream?” Jeho whispers.
All Kim Iwol can do is cling to him. His nails dig into his skin, and his tears aggravate fresh wounds. “Jeho!” he screams into his shoulder. “Jeho, Jeho, Choi Jeho!” he wails.
He strokes his arms. He shushes Kim Iwol, pulling him into his lap. He doesn’t have a clue what set him off. He can’t begin to understand Kim Iwol while he’s awake, much less his mind while he’s asleep; in all these years of knowing each other, Jeho can count on one hand the number of times he’s known this guy to cry.
So, it’s odd for Kim Iwol to jump on Jeho with tears rolling down his face. He chokes on his sobs. As time passes, it’s clear that anything beyond suffocating on his cries will be impossible; Jeho can’t squeeze any answers out of him, nor is he all that interested.
All Jeho can do is hold him. He whispers banal reassurances—avoiding anything about everything being alright or it being only a dream because that’s not a certainty. He places his cheek against his head, muttering into Kim Iwol’s ear that he’s here, that they’re safe and together. Those are facts. He hopes the truth is a kind enough reassurance.
And, for all the words he wants to say but can’t, Jeho supplements with shushing and hands rubbing his back. It feels inappropriate to kiss him now, so Jeho doesn’t, even as Kim Iwol’s saliva and tears are rushing down Jeho’s shoulder and back. With how tightly he’s being held, he imagines his skin has been torn. It doesn’t matter. Jeho can deal with it tomorrow—for now, Kim Iwol.
Finally, he depletes himself. The frantic exclamations of Jeho’s name drift away as Kim Iwol crumples. He’s limp in Jeho’s arms, but with his legs around his waist and hands glued to his back, not even his sleep can keep Kim Iwol from Jeho.
He’s met with some resistance, mostly internal, as Jeho rearranges their bodies for more comfort. He carefully peels Kim Iwol’s face from his neck. It’s all red and wet, tight and wrinkled. With the corner of their blanket, Jeho pats away the dampness; with the ginger pressure of his thumb, he attempts to smooth the aggravated skin.
For a long while, Jeho just watches. He pats his back, letting tiny hiccups rise to the surface of his still trembling body. He waits until his body relaxes fully, chest rising and falling steadily.
As Jeho moves, so does Kim Iwol, following him even in unconsciousness. He rubs Kim Iwol’s hip, leaning in to barely kiss his temple. “I’m here,” he mumbles. “Have good dreams. I’ll be here whenever you wake up,” he promises.
Jeho sighs.
“Really—“ he strokes Kim Iwol’s hair, “—let your mind give you good dreams, Kim Iwol.”
He makes himself comfortable on his side and finally closes his eyes.
The remnants of the tenuous night are apparent as soon as Jeho wakes up.
Not every day do they wake up in each other’s arms. Their personalities and sleep patterns have never quite allowed for it. It means that Jeho’s arm is completely asleep, and he has no idea how to wake it up without rolling Kim Iwol off of him. After he does that, Kim Iwol groans in his sleep, and Jeho frantically waves, trying to run the tingly pain out of his arm.
“What are—“ Kim Iwol attempts to clear his throat and coughs instead. Hand against his mouth, he sits up. “What are you doing?”
“You’re heavy,” Jeho states.
Kim Iwol inhales deeply. His hands move to his tense face, but resist the urge to rub his eyes.
“Wash your face,” he suggests.
He hums. He stretches and slides out of bed.
Jeho puts on his glasses and reaches for his phone. He yawns.
Behind him, Kim Iwol emerges from the bathroom. “What did I say last night?”
“What do you mean?”
“I woke up,” Kim Iwol says. “I had a dream.”
“You said my name. A lot.”
“Oh.”
“Was I in your dream?”
He purses his lips but shakes his head. “Not at all. But I realized it was a dream; I woke up, and you were there.”
Jeho sets down his phone. “Are you going to tell me about it?”
Kim Iwol scratches his head. “It’s not this life, anyway.”
“It seemed real to you last night.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t real.”
Jeho tilts his head and blinks.
Kim Iwol exhales. “Never mind.”
Jeho stands. “Ow.”
“Ow?”
“My back.”
Kim Iwol rushes over. “What happened? Did you sleep funny?”
“Not really.” Jeho lets himself be moved by Kim Iwol so he can inspect his back. After a long, frozen silence, he asks, “What is it?”
“Sit on the bed,” he demands. “I’ll be right back.” He rushes to the bathroom.
Jeho complies wordlessly.
The bed behind Jeho creaks as Kim Iwol settles. The air behind him is completely lifeless.
“Kim Iwol.”
“Huh.”
“Are you alive?”
“I’m fine,” he grits out.
Jeho nearly flinches when Kim Iwol’s fingers touch his back with a cold paste. Ah, that’s right, Kim Iwol had gotten so caught up in the emotions of his dreams that he’d scratched Jeho’s back. Jeho can’t see it, but he can imagine what Kim Iwol had seen so soon after waking up from that long night.
Kim Iwol, completely uncharacteristically, says nothing the entire time. His jaw is clenched tight as he combs over every inch of Jeho’s exposed torso. When he gets close to his neck and narrows his eyes, Jeho sits up straighter.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine! I damaged your skin! And you have a schedule today!”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do! I saw the calendar! You and Kiyeon have a photoshoot at noon!”
“It’s cancelled.”
“What?” Kim Iwol gasps sharply.
“The director and her team got food poisoning. They’re working on rescheduling.”
He inhales quickly. He doesn’t seem to exhale when he says, “Oh.”
“So, it’s fine,” Jeho repeats.
“It’s still not,” he grumbles. “I hurt you.”
“I feel fine.”
“You said ow!”
“It’ll heal,” he amends.
“Choi Jeho…”
“You were scared,” he explains. “I didn’t care what happened to me.”
“Still…” Kim Iwol shuffles forward and gently kisses the split skin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, just trim your nails.”
“Choi Jeho!” he shouts.
“See, you’re fine.”
Kim Iwol sighs. “Why do you…?” he mumbles. “Hopefully, it heals in time.” He shakes the ointment in his hand. “I’ll reapply it as often as we can. We wouldn’t want this messing with the photoshoot.”
Jeho shrugs. “They’ll just have to cover it with makeup or clothes.”
“Why make their work more difficult?”
He shuts his mouth.
“Besides, it’s inappropriate to bring personal issues into professional situations.”
“You’re both my personal and professional lives,” Jeho states.
“Don’t be like that. I’ll spare you the nagging since you were nice last night.”
“When am I not nice?”
Kim Iwol ignores Jeho’s remark. He’s careful of where he places his hand, avoiding the scratches on his biceps and shoulders. He holds his forearm as he kisses Jeho once. “Thank you,” Kim Iwol says against his cheek, “for not leaving me alone.”
+1: And I’ll Scratch Yours
His rare day off is spent alone.
It isn’t meant to be this way.
When Iwol looked at the calendar and found that this particular Wednesday would be completely empty, he thought of many things to do. There’s always work that needs to be done, places to go, people to see. The kids, the traitors, suggested that he might find a day to himself rather relaxing.
Iwol disagrees. Besides, he had figured he wouldn’t be totally alone. He just forgot to factor in Choi Jeho.
See, after they came back from the gym, they were going to go grocery shopping and test-run the menu for when Choi Miho would visit next week. In all the commotion of promotions and events in the prior week, things began to pile up in their place, so Iwol stayed back to clean. When Choi Jeho finally returned, Iwol checked the bags.
Minutes later, avoiding the ceaseless nagging, Choi Jeho slipped his shoes back on and left the apartment.
Iwol huffs and crosses his arms. He has half a mind to follow Choi Jeho to make sure he grabs the right ingredients this time. He settles instead for writing a long text about the correct technique to choose vegetables. He stands in the kitchen wondering what they can make with bellflower roots in the middle of spring. He doesn’t last long; Iwol shoves it all into the fridge and throws himself onto the sofa.
A while back, Joowoo had recommended him a slice-of-life show about zookeepers. It’s the kind of easy, thoughtless watching that’s good for unwinding after his partner comes home with the wrong groceries. He gets through an episode and a half when the door opens.
Iwol pauses the show and walks to the entryway. Choi Jeho holds his phone to his ear with his shoulder, balancing his armful of new groceries as he rearranges the shoes. Wordlessly, Iwol pulls the bag from his arm, and Choi Jeho nods silently as thanks. He slips out of the entryway and into their bedroom. Iwol returns to the kitchen and is beyond relieved that these groceries are correct now. He regards their shut bedroom door. Since Choi Jeho isn’t the type to come home on his phone or take calls privately in their shared apartment, Iwol wonders how long the call will be.
He settles onto the couch again, clicking play and resigned to being patient. Choi Jeho won’t leave him all alone on their day off.
Iwol is partway through today’s third episode when the door opens. Rather than sitting on the couch next to him, Choi Jeho lies with his head on Iwol’s lap.
Iwol glances away from the TV and finds that Choi Jeho’s eyes are shut. He places one hand on his chest and the other, against his better, idol judgement, strokes Choi Jeho’s hair. He watches the zookeepers gossip about a newborn duck. “How was your call?”
He sighs. He peels the hand off his chest and begins to massage it. “My mom fought with me.”
“I see.” If Choi Jeho is sitting on his lap, holding his hand, it surely isn’t the regular bickering found in the Choi family. “What was she upset about?”
“Choi Miho is coming next week. She told Mom that she’s just visiting for the day, not staying the night.”
Iwol nods. The siblings had squabbled over Choi Miho having to sleep in the living room if she wanted to stay the night. It wasn’t as though they could give up one of their bedrooms to let her sleep on a bed; their spare bedroom already had workout machines while their main bedroom housed one shared bed.
“Mom learned that we’re together.”
Iwol blinks. “And she’s upset?” His hand freezes in Choi Jeho’s hair. “Wait a minute! You mean that your mom didn’t know that we’re together?”
He shakes his head.
“We’ve been together for years.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know why she’s upset.”
“If I found out one of the kids was in a relationship—for years—and didn’t tell me, I’d be hurt too!”
“It’s not like that. She knows you already.”
“That’s what I’m saying! Unless…”
“Unless?”
“She doesn’t like me…!”
Choi Jeho rolls his eyes. “Kim Iwol.”
“I’m serious! Then you had a really good reason for not telling her that we’re dating! Why does she dislike me? I thought she liked me!”
“She does like you.”
“Obviously not if—Stop!” Iwol slaps away the hands pinching his cheeks.
“She adores you.”
“Then why didn’t you tell her?”
“It never came up.”
Iwol sighs. “Even you wouldn’t forget to mention something like that.” He swallows. “You aren’t… You’re not ashamed to be with me. Right?”
Choi Jeho takes his hand again, putting pressure on his palm and warming Iwol’s fingers. “I’m not.”
“Then,” he whispers, “why didn’t you tell her?”
“I don’t know,” he confesses.
“Then you should figure out why,” Iwol orders. “Or else, she’s just going to think you’re too ashamed of your own mom to formally introduce her to your boyfriend.” He huffs.
Choi Jeho hums. He squeezes Iwol’s fingertips.
It never occurred to Iwol that Choi Jeho might have kept him a secret. Of course, they needed some degree of secrecy to keep their relationship private and out of the limelight. But their friends knew, and so did the kids and their families—except Choi Jeho’s, it turns out.
Now, Iwol knows he’s not exactly the typical romantic partner. Before everything, he hadn’t even been on a date! And no amount of kind words and affection from the Sparklers could convince him that he’s an irrefutable catch. He had thought, however, that he was enough for Choi Jeho. That’s what they spent many nights talking about at the beginning of their romance. Choi Jeho always convinced him that he didn’t want anything from Iwol, just for him to remain as himself—safe, happy, and healthy. At some point, Iwol stopped doubting that Choi Jeho was being insincere.
That was nice…
So why exactly did Choi Jeho keep Iwol a secret from his own mom?
“If,” Choi Jeho says with a wrinkled brow, “I had to say now, I didn’t tell her because I didn't want to boast.”
“Boast? You’re not exactly a boastful guy.”
His eyes remain on Iwol’s hand, but they’re far from focused. “She didn’t have a good marriage. She’s had enough heartbreak and trouble. It seems wrong to tell her how great I have it.”
Iwol has been the prime witness of a terrible marriage between terrible people, but even so, “Is that boasting?”
He shakes his head. “Saying ‘Kim Iwol is great’ is already too much.”
That’s just— That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?
“Besides, I don’t want to force her to keep more secrets for me. She’s been through enough. She shouldn’t have to worry about this kind of thing anymore.”
“I—“ Iwol clears his throat. Why on Earth would he be the reason Choi Jeho can’t be honest with his mom? For such a literal guy, this evades all logic! “Your mom’s not that kind of person. She loves you. She wants good things for you.”
He nods but refutes, “Isn’t it complicated?”
“No? What? How?” Choi Jeho? Complicated? Have they switched minds?
“At the beginning, their relationship was good. They got married and had children. She never said, but that must have been lonely, even though he was a piece of shit.”
Iwol hums. Maybe that would be lonely. Iwol has certainly never thought of his awful parents in that way, but maybe it’s different when there was once love, and now it’s gone.
“I’ve overheard her talking to my noona about the dates she’s been on. I can tell she’s nervous about us getting involved with the wrong people.” Choi Jeho shakes his head. “Not you. It’s just a general concern.”
“I get it. But you’re silly. Very sweet,” Iwol amends, “and very kind, but that’s just stupid, Choi Jeho. Your mom loves you way more than she cares about your dad and all that he’s put you through. Yeah, she’s protective of you and your sisters, but she has always supported you. She loves seeing you succeed and be happy. Really, it’s kind of you to worry. You’re a great son, but your mom is strong. You should have told her.”
Choi Jeho shuts his eyes. “Hm.”
“Don’t hm me,” Iwol mocks. “Do you,” he realizes, “think she’d be upset that you have someone and she doesn’t?”
“Not upset…” He wrinkled his brow. “It seems lonely, though.”
Iwol huffs. Ever so eloquent, Choi Jeho is just talking in circles! Is it lonely? Having children who love you to such an extent that they lament about having to keep secrets from you? Having people who care about you immensely without saying a thing or living with you? For Heaven's sake, Iwol already calls her Mom! If Iwol had half of that in his previous life, what kind of person would he have been…!
His mind loops back to the crux of the problem: himself. That he and Choi Jeho are in a relationship. What’s so lonely about that idea? Oh, that his mom isn’t in a relationship? Iwol’s relationship is great, but is it so great that—
Oh. Jeho is no longer lonely. Because Iwol is by his side.
After all these years, this guy’s logic is baffling!
Iwol sighs and hangs his head. “Why does your brain work like this…?”
Choi Jeho pats his wrist. “You should stop going to action school for now.”
“Huh!”
“Your blood pressure seems high. You said you want to stay with spArk for a long time, so keep it lower.”
He grits his teeth. “My blood pressure is high because of you!”
He blinks.
“I can’t have it both ways—it’s either Choi Jeho or low blood pressure. Do you get it?”
Choi Jeho readjusts his head, finally settling onto Iwol’s lap. He blinks up at Iwol. “I’ll do better.”
“Better?”
“So we can remain together. Happy and healthy.”
Iwol swallows. It really is just that straightforward for this simpleton, isn’t it?
Being on the receiving end of such a confident gaze, Iwol is reminded of years ago when he hesitated to say he belonged with these people. Back then, even past his dry responses and blunt affect, Choi Jeho was kind.
All these years have passed, and he’s as kind as ever. He’s careful of Iwol’s scars and gentle about the past that looms so large. And still, nothing is quite as thoughtful as Choi Jeho simply saying as he pleases, and all the warm consideration in each word and action.
Iwol lightly scratches Choi Jeho’s scalp and lets his hand be toyed with. “Is this why you’ve never asked me to come home with you?”
“Hm. I don’t want to worry anyone.” He brings Iwol’s hand close to his mouth. Against the back of his hand and with a relentless gaze, he asks, “Next time, will you come with me?”
Iwol smiles. “Of course, I’ll go home with you.”