Archive of Our Own

One.

Gunwook has always been a cat person.

He tells himself that that’s the only reason why he’s here at the pet adoption centre at 8am in the morning on the only day off he has had in months.

Not because he’s here to adopt a cat, no, but because Matthew wants to.

All Matthew had needed to do was bat his pretty eyelashes at Gunwook, pull his lips into a pout, and wrap an arm around Gunwook’s waist—

And Gunwook was already halfway out the door.

One day, he’ll probably learn how to say no to Matthew.

Today is not the day.

“Ooooh, this one’s so cute, Gunwook-ah, look at her little paws…” Matthew coos, dropping down in a squat and pressing a hand to the glass. In this position, Matthew looks even smaller than he already is, curled up in a ball and beaming at the orange kitten in the cage like he personally pushed her out of his womb.

Something in Gunwook’s chest unfurls.

“Wait, this one’s adorable too, fuck. Can’t I just take all of them home?” Matthew shifts to the side, very nearly pressing his entire face up to the glass, and Gunwook gets the feeling that he would shrink himself down and clamber into the cage to press kisses all over every kitten’s face if he could.

Gunwook understands the feeling.

“Gunwook! Come look!” The sweet twang of Matthew’s petulant whine twirls through the air and pulls Gunwook down into his orbit with one swift tug. He goes willingly, dropping to the floor next to Matthew without a second thought, like being next to Matthew and breathing in his air is the most natural thing he’s ever known.

“Awww, she’s so cute,” Gunwook hums, thinking for a moment that the kitten in front of him looks a little bit like the boy next to him when he smiles. He turns to look at Matthew to confirm this resemblance with his own eyes, but where Matthew was a mere minute ago, empty space now rests. Gunwook glances to the other side—

And what greets him melts the thing unfurling in his chest down into a puddle of marshmallow fluff, awfully gooey and sickly sweet.

Matthew with his legs crossed on the floor, and a lump of fur pawing at the hole in his jeans. He laughs as the kitten attempts to climb up his arm, tickling the fur under its chin in amusement, and Gunwook thinks he hears the bells.

Because Matthew’s laughter is bright and beautiful in the wind, dancing through the air like a trickling stream flowing across smooth rocks and cool pebbles.

Gunwook has made many people laugh in his life. He’s heard many different kinds of laughter. All of them make him smile, of course, because laughter is beautiful and loud and kind and genuine and Gunwook thinks the world could do with a lot more laughter, truly.

But none of them are Matthew.

None of them make the thing in his chest tighten like it’s got a life of its own and Matthew’s laughter is the fuel it craves.

Gunwook tries not to think too hard about what that means.

“Oh my god,” Matthew turns to look at him then, the kitten in his lap now squirming excitedly as it unravels the loose threads on Matthew’s jeans with every enthusiastic bat of its paw. His eyes are sparkling with joy and his voice is steady with a certain confidence that only Matthew carries (the same kind that drew Gunwook to him in the first place, all those months ago when they met on that godawful survival show) when he says—

“He’s the one.”

Yeah. Gunwook thinks Matthew’s the one, too.

Two.

“Gunwook-ah, I’m home!”

Home.

Gunwook’s feet are moving before he even knows it. In a matter of seconds, he’s standing in the living room, directly in front of Matthew and the wriggling lump in his arms.

“Hi, hyung,” Gunwook beams, laughing when Gia flails his paws around so much he accidentally smacks Matthew square in the face. Unfazed, Matthew only giggles as he nestles his cheek into Gia’s fur, peppering affectionate kisses to the top of his head.

Gunwook wishes he were a cat, sometimes.

“Okay, okay, hold on, you stupid cat, oh my god,” Matthew laughs, his voice dripping with unmistakable fondness, as Gia continues his enthusiastic flailing, looking more like a blur of furry limbs than anything. He presses a final kiss to Gia’s ear before hoisting him into Gunwook’s waiting arms, chuckling at the way Gia wastes no time before clambering up Gunwook’s arms, swishing his tail back and forth as he perches on Gunwook’s shoulder like it’s a throne, like he’s finally satisfied now that he’s managed to scale the tallest thing in the room.

Gunwook yelps in a rather undignified manner, reaching a hand up to steady the stubborn little kitten that he watched grow up, the warm fur ticklish against his skin. Matthew only laughs harder. He steps closer, extending a hand, and Gunwook thinks he’s going to pat Gia until a weight drops on his head and fingers thread through his hair.

“Awww, look at you two,” Matthew coos, ruffling Gunwook’s hair fondly. “My two darlings. Who said that cats and dogs couldn’t be friends, hm?”

Darling. Darling darling darling darling darling darling darling darling—

Gunwook ignores the thing thumping in his chest, growing stronger by the minute.

He squints at Matthew. “Did you just call me a dog?”

Matthew only shrugs in response. “I was merely making a generic observation about how animals form friendships despite the negative human-imposed stereotypes that dictate the way we classify animal interactions. I almost went to medical school, remember?”

Gunwook stares at him, unimpressed. “Okay. And you just called me a dog.”

Another shrug. “I mean, if the collar fits…”

Gunwook kicks him in the shin.

(Lightly, though, because every drop of strength in his body balks at the mere thought of hurting Matthew in a way that isn’t playful.)

“Owwww,” Matthew groans, clutching his leg dramatically and glaring up at Gunwook. He juts his bottom lip out so far that Gunwook almost laughs out loud.

“Baby, look what Gunwookie did to me,” Matthew whines, looking at Gia like he’s truly expecting his kitten to come to his defence. “You gotta get him good for me, okay? Pee on his pillow or something. Or walk all over his keyboard so he’s forced to take a break from work. I’m not picky about the choice of punishment.”

“Brat,” Gunwook huffs as Gia thumps his tail against Gunwook’s back, seemingly in agreement with his father. “And it was the other shin I kicked, by the way.”

Matthew doesn’t even bother switching legs. He simply straightens and beams at Gunwook, and holy shit, Gunwook swears he’s going to go blind one day.

Not that he’s complaining. Not at all.

Matthew yawns as he turns to glance at the clock, stretching his arms above his head and giving Gunwook a fantastic view of his biceps.

(Not that he’s looking or anything. It’s just that they were in his direct line of vision!)

“Shit, I gotta go or I’ll be late. Ricky’s probably blowing up my phone with messages right now, I think he’s nervous about our first American interview… and with kids, no less,” Matthew sighs.

He turns to Gia, then, stroking a hand down his back. “You be good for Gunwookie, okay? Don’t actually pee on his pillow, yeah? I was kidding. He’ll sulk for days and then I’ll have to comfort this giant teddy bear who’s literally twice my size. I have my hands full with you already, I can’t handle two babies.”

Babies. Baby. He’s Matthew’s baby.

Gunwook ignores the way the thing in his chest flips at that. Again.

He’s gotten really good at that. The whole ignoring thing, that is.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” Gunwook assures, readjusting his grip on Gia as he decides to move over to Gunwook’s other shoulder by stepping all over the back of Gunwook’s neck. “Go. Good luck for your interview, hyung.”

Matthew smiles. “Thank you for taking care of Gia. You’re the one I trust most, with him.”

Then, so fast Gunwook doesn’t even have time to react, he closes the distance between them and pulls Gunwook in for a hug.

Or, more accurately, he pulls himself into Gunwook. Rests his head atop Gunwook’s chest, right above his heart, and wraps his arms around Gunwook’s waist, his skin warm against Gunwook’s. On instinct, Gunwook’s free arm comes to settle around Matthew’s back.

For the briefest of moments.

It feels like an eternity to Gunwook.

Then he’s gone, as suddenly as he came. Gunwook blinks and Matthew’s out the door, the gate closing shut behind him with a clang, the tail of his cheerily yelled goodbye lingering in the air like it knows something Gunwook hasn’t dared to admit yet.

Three.

“What do you think of this one?” Matthew asks, holding up some sort of floppy rubber maze in the brightest shade of teal Gunwook has ever seen. He glances down, then, and reaches his other arm into the basket of toys to pull out another floppy rubber maze, only this one’s a fiery hot fuchsia instead.

“Or maybe I should get the fuchsia one? Shit, I don’t remember what Gia’s favourite colour is. Does he even have one?” Matthew holds both toys up to his face as if that would be of any help in Gunwook’s decision-making. “Okay. If you were a cat who just got his dick cut off, which would you prefer?”

Gunwook snorts. He puts a hand out, and Matthew dutifully drops the fuchsia one into his palm.

“He’s not getting his dick cut off, hyung,” Gunwook strokes his fingers across the rubber ridges and frowns at the odd sensation. “What’s this for, again?”

Matthew huffs and drops the teal toy back into the basket. “Some sort of slow feeder and sensory stimulator? Like a two-in-one thing. To be honest, I haven’t got a fuckin’ clue.”

Gunwook hums, flipping it around to examine the back. “Fuchsia is nice,” he decides, placing it in their shopping cart that’s already filled to the brim with various toys and gadgets, careful not to let it fall. He turns to Matthew, then, and feels worry knit in his chest at the way Matthew’s eyebrows are furrowed.

“Hey,” Gunwook reaches for Matthew’s hand, tugging him close. The lump of feelings in his chest expands when Matthew sags at his touch, as if every knot in his veins is unravelling like a spineless spool of thread just from a gentle stroke of Gunwook’s fingers against his skin.

“It’s gonna be okay. Gia’s gonna be fine. I know it’s scary, but you trust the vets, right? They handled Eumppappa and Gwanshim just fine. They’re going to take good care of Gia, too. Plus, he won’t be alone, will he? You’ll be right there with him, and so will I,” Gunwook draws circles into his wrist with his thumb as he speaks, letting go of the cart briefly to pull Matthew in for a hug.

He comes willingly, his head tucked into the crook of Gunwook’s neck. Arms come up to wrap tightly around his waist and the thing in Gunwook’s chest, stubborn and ridiculous and terribly dangerous, seizes. He brings his hands up to curl around Matthew’s shoulders protectively, uncaring of the fact that they’re in public and probably blocking the cat toy section with the way they’re standing right smack in the middle of the aisle.

Like this, Gunwook can feel every breath Matthew takes, every rise and fall of his chest, every thud of his heart. It’s intimate in a way that makes Gunwook want to tuck his imaginary tail in between his legs and run the other way. His chest feels tight with an emotion he can’t quite name.

All he knows is that whatever it is, only Matthew can lure it to the surface.

He doesn’t look further into what that implies.

He can’t.

Gunwook doesn’t know how long they stand like that. It could be hours, or days, or years — at least, that’s what it feels like, to him. He only knows that he will not be the first to pull away.

Not now. Not ever.

Eventually, Matthew pulls his head out of its comfortable corner. Gunwook thinks it’s probably a little pathetic how he immediately misses the weight on his chest, the warmth that Matthew radiates like sunshine in human form.

He blinks up at Gunwook, his arms still tight around Gunwook’s waist. “Thank you,” he whispers, the sound a soft curl around Gunwook’s ear, his eyes shining with the briefest flicker of a familiar emotion Gunwook feels in his bones. 

It’s gone before Gunwook can catch it.

Then Matthew steps back, untangling his arms from Gunwook’s skin and manoeuvring around him to grab ahold of the shopping cart.

The moment dies.

“Let’s go look in the food section, I think we’re running low on catnip,” Matthew chirps, pushing the cart forward with one hand and holding the other out behind his back expectantly.

Gunwook doesn’t even think about it. He falls into step next to Matthew easily, sliding his hand down Matthew’s open palm and tangling his fingers with Matthew’s shorter ones.

The thing in his chest doesn’t miss the way Matthew says we. Or how Matthew doesn’t let go of his hand even once throughout the rest of their shopping trip.

Four.

All things considered, the vet is a rather lovely place.

Gunwook supposes he wouldn’t know, since this is the first time he’s ever been to one.

But it’s nice. The room is large and spacious, and the couch they’re currently sitting on is honestly more comfortable than the one Gunwook’s got in his living room. The walls are covered with what looks like kids’ colourful drawings of various animals that Gunwook assumes to be their pets — though there is one of a crocodile and another of a leopard, so maybe not. Soft, quiet tunes of some Lo-Fi beat pirouette through the air, weaving between the barks and yips of the animals in the waiting room, and if Gunwook closes his eyes and tries hard enough, he can almost imagine that he’s at a quaint café in a cottage on the edge of a forest where animals roam free.

Gia shifts, then, stretching his paws out and nuzzling his cheek against Gunwook’s knee. Instinctively, he rubs the space between Gia’s ears, stroking gentle fingers through his fur in an attempt to reassure him. Gunwook’s spent enough time raising Gia to know when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. He doesn’t suppose that Gia really knows what he’s here for, but Gunwook knows that Gia can pick up on how anxious Matthew is, and that makes the cat fidgety in return, too.

Like father, like son.

Gia’s whiskers brush against his bare skin, tickling the goosebumps that rise as a result, but Gunwook pays no mind to it because he’s got bigger fish to fry — that is, a squirming Matthew biting his nails and practically dousing the entire room with anxiety.

“Hyung,” Gunwook tries, resuming his pats when Gia whines in protest. “Hyung, you okay?”

No response.

The tap-tap-taps of Matthew’s foot against the floor get louder by the second. Matthew’s eyes are blank, and Gunwook knows he’s somewhere far away, in a bubble of stress and anxiety. The thought makes the thing in his chest ache.

Like every tendon in his body is curled tightly around his bones, tense with worry.

“Matthew,” he tries again. This time, Matthew’s head snaps up.

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t stop stroking Gia’s fur even as he looks at Gunwook. The unease doesn’t leave his eyes, either.

Gunwook lifts the hand resting on Gia’s head and places it on Matthew’s thigh instead. The jitters cease.

Then Matthew sighs, long and weary in a way that seems far too heavy for one person to hold on his own.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, exhaling, “I’m just so nervous… What if something goes wrong? What if he’s in pain? What if we didn’t buy enough toys for him? Or worse, what if we bought all the wrong ones? What if he’s allergic to the medicine he has to eat after the surgery? What if complications arise during the procedure?”

He blurts everything out in a matter of seconds, the words tumbling out and tangling together in a frantic mess. The thing in Gunwook’s chest grows heavier.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, I promise,” he assures, wrapping an arm around Matthew. Matthew’s head falls on his shoulder as if it’s second nature, as if that’s where he’s always belonged. Where he’s always wanted to belong.

“The vets know what they’re doing. They’re professionals. This is a simple neutering that they’ve done countless times. Gia won’t be in pain. They can handle it. Let’s trust them to do their job, okay?”

He brings a hand up to cradle Matthew’s head, carding his fingers through the hair above Matthew’s nape and feeling the bristles tickle his skin. Matthew is so close that Gunwook can smell his shampoo — Gunwook’s shampoo, actually, since Matthew slept over last night because he was too anxious about Gia’s surgery to be alone. The comforting scent of apple and lavender curls around them both, and Gunwook feels a little like they’re now in their own intimate little bubble. The rest of the world fades around them like it always does when Gunwook’s with Matthew.

“Also, your room — and mine too, for that matter — is literally littered with all sorts of cat toys. We pretty much cleared out the entire cat rack at every pet store within a five-mile radius last week, remember? And the medicine Gia needs to take after is just a simple painkiller, he’s not allergic to those. If you’re worried, we can always confirm his allergy list again with the vets later, okay?”

Matthew doesn’t say a word. Gunwook presses a kiss into the crown of his head.

“He won’t be alone. And neither will you.”

That, at last, has Matthew raising his head up to look at Gunwook. His eyes are swimming with emotion so potent that Gunwook would’ve stumbled if he wasn’t already sitting down. That stupid, stubborn, stupendous not-so-little thing in his chest clenches.

“Thank you, Gunwook-ah,” he murmurs. For a moment, he looks like he wants to say more, then the moment passes and Gunwook can’t figure out if it really existed or if he’d simply imagined it.

Instead, Matthew tucks his head back into the juncture of Gunwook’s neck and whispers the next words into his skin. Soft not because it’s something he’s reluctant to admit, but because it’s something too intimate to proclaim any louder than this.

“I love you.”

The thing in Gunwook’s chest collapses.

But not in the way I do.

Not in the way I love you.

I love you so much I think I might die with how deeply I feel it—

The words die in the back of Gunwook’s throat.

“I love you, too.”

It’s not a lie.

But somehow, it still feels like one.

Five.

Sometimes, Gunwook thinks Matthew’s dorm feels more like home than his own.

Probably because he spends all his damn time here. Like now.

He tells himself it’s because he misses Gia and wants to see him, but the excuse sounds weak even to his own ears. Flimsy like a shred of chiffon and tulle fluttering in the wind, tearing at the slightest gust of air.

It’s definitely not because he likes having Matthew curled up next to him, his head a reassuring weight on Gunwook’s bicep, fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone and their legs tangled together under the covers.

Is it normal to list cuddling with your bandmate as the number one favourite thing you enjoy doing in the little free time you have?

Probably not, though Gunwook likes to pretend otherwise. He thinks it must be pretty high up on the list of Matthew’s favourite pastimes, too, considering that they fall asleep next to each other at least three times a week. Sometimes four or five. And sometimes seven.

A ball of fluff nudges against his side, insistent in its poking, and Gunwook lifts his arm from where it’s encircled around Matthew’s waist to welcome their petulant fur baby into his embrace. Gia snuggles his head in immediately, crawling up to nestle his head into Gunwook’s shoulder, his tail swishing back and forth and batting Matthew in the face.

Gunwook can’t help but burst into endeared laughter at the way Matthew’s eyes slowly blink open, his lips pulling into an affronted pout. “Gia, quit that, I’m trying to cuddle your dad, you gotta move, okay,” Matthew huffs, attempting — though not very successfully — to swat Gia’s tail away from his face.

Everything in Gunwook’s body comes to a standstill.

Your dad?

Matthew just called him Gia’s dad. Gunwook thinks even his cells have stopped moving.

He manages the barest tilt of his head. One glance at Matthew tells him that the older isn’t even fazed in the slightest as he continues narrowing his eyes at Gia and tickling the space between his ears, cooing as Gia purrs in contentment.

Okay. So Gunwook is crazy. No biggie.

It’s not like Matthew had just implicitly called Gunwook his husband or anything. The person who’s raising their child — cat, whatever — with him. The father that stepped up.

This is fine.

Gunwook isn’t freaking out. Not at all. Nope.

Gia doesn’t give him time to, anyway. He stretches lazily with a long purr, his limbs sprawling all across Gunwook’s chest as he rubs his face deeper into the juncture of Gunwook’s neck. He’s moving like the air around him is water, his movements slow and languid like he’s not laying on Gunwook at all but rather on a beach mat on the Californian coast.

Gunwook strokes a hand down Gia’s back, careful not to jostle him as he lounges on Gunwook’s chest like he’s Gia’s personal human mattress.

He really does take after his father.

Matthew huffs out a laugh into Gunwook’s shoulder, and Gunwook prays to every deity out there that the goosebumps that rise rapidly up across his skin go unnoticed by the man who brought them to the surface. Who always seems to make a map out of the shivers that ripple down Gunwook’s spine because of him, without even trying.

“I still can’t quite get used to how tame he is now,” Matthew mumbles, his voice light with amusement. “The vets really snipped the vigour off him, huh? I can’t believe he isn’t clawing at the walls and climbing you like the Statue of Liberty. I kinda miss it, to be honest.”

Gunwook snorts. He pulls Matthew closer, as if there was any remaining distance between the two of them, as if there was a way they could be any closer without stitching their skin together like a really interesting and probably also terrifying patchwork.

“Aren’t you Canadian? How many American cultural references are you going to make in one day?” Gunwook yelps when Matthew tightens his grip on Gunwook’s waist, fingers digging into his skin purposefully. “Hey, I was just making an observation, I’m sorry! I swear, you’ve been spending way too much time with Ricky. I’m going to complain to Gyuvin that his situationship-slash-almost-boyfriend is stealing you away from me.”

He feels Matthew smile against his skin. Gunwook’s lips tug up of their own accord in return.

“Honestly, I’m also a little surprised that Gia’s still this… muted? Not quite the right word there. Let’s go with quiet. Or gentle? It’s like he’s living life in slow motion now, when he was fully in time-lapse mode before he got neutered. It’s cute, but I can’t say I don’t miss when he was bouncing off the walls with energy every time I walked into the room.”

Matthew snorts. “Yeah, not to mention those,” he grumbles, eyeing the pile of brightly-coloured toys pooled at the corner of Gunwook’s room, the Gift Gia The Entire Toy Store (And Then Some) To Play With After His Neuter So He Feels Better About His Missing Testicles project (three guesses who came up with that name) abandoned before it ever started. “The brat didn’t even give those a second glance. All that money down the drain for nothing. Not to mention the pile in your room that’s just as big as this one…”

Gunwook laughs, thinking back to the time Gia had taken a brief liking to this flying propeller toy they’d bought, fresh after his surgery. In true Gia fashion, this interest had lasted about two minutes before he’d ditched it in a corner and never given it a second glance. 

In the end, it was Gunwook who’d started flicking it around the room in hopes of Gia reciprocating, only to have Matthew be the one to sit down and indulge him. Gunwook thinks they painted a pretty funny picture: Two grown men, sprawled out on the living room floor for hours, tossing a toy meant for cats into the air and at each other while the cat they actually bought it for watches them in disdain from the highest perch of the cat tower.

At one point, Taerae had come home to find the two of them like this, collapsing into fits of laughter over some stupid fishing rod-esque toy. For a few seconds, he just stared, perplexed but otherwise unfazed, like he’s got a hundred questions but ultimately decides the answers will only bring forth more questions. Then he’d shrugged and gone straight into his room with a small smile on his face — one that Gunwook tries not to read too much into, because Taerae is smarter than he lets on and Gunwook really doesn’t wanna get into another long conversation about his painful yearning, or whatever.

“For what it’s worth, I certainly had a really good time playing with those,” Gunwook hums, tracing the line of Matthew’s veins, from the top of his arm down to his wrists. “Maybe we’re destined to be cats instead of cat dads. Should probably donate most of these to the adoption centre, though. Paying it forward and stuff.”

As if sensing that they were talking about him, Gia squirms and stands, this time hitting Gunwook in the face with his tail as he struts away from the pair cuddled close in bed. He stops at the edge of the bed, just shy of Gunwook’s foot, and curls himself up into a ball.

Matthew grins up at him. “He kinda looks like you.”

Gunwook raises an eyebrow. He glances at Gia, a lump of toasted fur at the foot of the bed, then looks back at Matthew. “Like how?”

Matthew hums, eyes roving over Gunwook’s face, following the slope of his nose. Gunwook nearly shivers at the intimacy of it all.

“Like, he makes this angry-but-not-quite face now, have you noticed? Every time I leave him for too long or don’t give him enough kisses, he just kind of stares at me with this offended look and growls. Or I guess I should say he tries to growl, because it honestly just comes out all cute and more like a purr than anything.”

He boops Gunwook on the nose. “Just like you. Harmless and adorable.”

Gunwook blinks at him.

Matthew doesn’t give him a chance to respond before he’s settling his head back down on Gunwook’s arm with a sigh. He tosses a thigh over Gunwook’s waist and closes his eyes, nuzzling his cheek into Gunwook’s shoulder in a way that’s awfully similar to Gia.

The Thing™ in Gunwook’s chest explodes against his ribcage, and Gunwook thinks he knows what it is, now.

Has known it for a while, actually, but was just too afraid to admit it.

Love.

+1.

Gunwook is doing it today.

He’s going to confess to Matthew.

He is.

It’s been a week since he finally allowed himself to acknowledge what exactly it is that he’s feeling for Matthew. What he’s been feeling for months or probably years, really, but never let himself admit out loud for fear of making it real.

But it’s always been real, no matter how hard Gunwook tries to convince himself that it’s not. Realer than anything Gunwook has ever felt in his 21 years of living.

Gunwook has no idea how this is going to go. All he knows is that he can’t hold it in any longer or he might actually explode with all the insurgent mess of feelings in his chest, churning in his stomach like an overflowing cauldron.

Even if Matthew doesn’t return his feelings (which is probably highly likely), Gunwook trusts that he won’t humiliate or shame Gunwook for feeling this way. Matthew has never made Gunwook feel bad about himself — not even once. Not even when they were supposed to be fierce rivals competing for the same spot on the team, the same chance to turn their dream into reality. Matthew had always been endlessly kind and supportive to everyone around him, including Gunwook. Gunwook knows that even if Matthew doesn’t feel the same way, he would never make Gunwook feel bad about loving him the way he does.

So Gunwook is going to do it today.

Today’s the day. Now’s the time. You love him. You love him. You love him.

Gunwook repeats that like a mantra as he paces around his room, his entire body tense with restless energy and bubbling anxiety.

Why is he nervous? It’s just Matthew. Matthew is safe. Matthew has always been safe.

There’s no need to be nervous.

Alas, Gunwook’s heart has never been great at listening to instructions. So it continues thundering in his chest, rocking against his ribcage, drowning out the roar of blood in his ears.

The door creaks open in the middle of his pacing. The rest of the script that he’d been rehearsing in his head like this is another one of the public speaking competitions he’d killed in high school falls away into empty space and emptier silence.

Matthew lets himself in, Gia in his arms. He walks over to the edge of the bed and puts Gia down before taking a seat himself. Gia scrambles under the covers immediately, and Gunwook watches as an oddly-shaped lump moves around his bed and settles near his pillow.

“Hey, Gunwookie,” Matthew smiles, his eyes crinkling with worry as he eyes the tense stiffening of Gunwook’s muscles. Gunwook’s pretty sure he looks rigid as hell. The veins in his neck are probably popping, too — and not in a good way. “You okay?”

Yes. No. I love you.

Gunwook manages a nod and hopes it doesn’t look too stiff. “Peachy,” he quips, all faux cheer, and internally cringes at his choice of word when Matthew’s eyebrows knit together. “I just, um, have something I want to tell you, if that’s okay.”

Matthew’s eyes widen ever so slightly. Then he pats the space in front of him, inviting, and Gunwook obliges. He makes himself comfortable on the bed and Matthew immediately places a hand on his knee. It’s warm. Matthew is so warm. Gunwook feels the warmth spread from his knee to the tips of his toes and the ends of his fingertips and the chaos in his chest.

“Of course it’s okay, Gunwook-ah,” Matthew affirms, his gaze softening. “You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I hope you know that.”

Gunwook does know.

Matthew’s still looking at him with those big doe eyes of his that make Gunwook feel just about ready to pluck Venus out of the night sky and gift it to him on a silver platter, even though the planet could never hold a candle to the galaxies in Matthew’s eyes.

Right. Okay. Just get it over with.

Gunwook takes a deep breath.

And exhales it all in one go, the words tumbling out messily like they’re fighting to be the first one Matthew hears.

“Matthew,” he starts, the lump in his throat searing into his windpipe just from uttering his name, “I’m in love with you.”

“I’ve been in love with you for months — or years, probably. I don’t know how to breathe when you are not near. I love you so much that it should probably scare me, but it doesn’t, because it’s you, and you could never be anything but safe to me.”

“I think you might be the first and only person I’ve ever loved like this. Intense. Intimate. Instinctual.”

The lump in his throat dissolves. He’d done it.

Gunwook looks to the side, finally breaking eye contact as Matthew blinks at him, lost. He tracks the way Gia shifts under the covers instead, circling around Gunwook’s pillow until he finds a spot comfortable enough to settle in.

Then the lump thickens, slowly, with each beat that passes in silence. It crawls over his skin like a layer of wet clay, clinging to every notch of his joints and seeping into his veins.

Gunwook risks a glance at Matthew.

His lips are slightly parted, and he looks so lost and confused that Gunwook almost winces at his own impulsiveness.

Matthew’s just processing. Because Gunwook’s confession had come out of the blue, and he’s trying to come up with a way to let Gunwook down gently without hurting his feelings.

Gunwook steels himself for the rejection. It’s okay. Matthew doesn’t owe him anything, least of all love. Because the love Gunwook feels for him is nearly impossible to reciprocate, and he doesn’t expect anything from Matthew in return. He’d only wanted to relieve a bit of the weight on his chest.

And he’d also wanted Matthew to know how loved he was. How loved he is. Because Matthew deserves to know what a wonderful person he is, and how worthy of being loved he is.

Gunwook does not expect what comes next.

“Yeah, I know,” Matthew cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows still knit together like he’s just figured something groundbreaking out. “I’d be a little concerned if you didn’t love me, considering the fact that we’ve been dating for five months.”

What?

Gunwook blinks back at him.

Dating?

“What?”

Matthew only stares, horror dawning on his face. “Oh my god,” he gasps, burying his head in his hands. “You didn’t know?”

Gunwook gapes at him. “Wha— How was I supposed to know that we were dating? Since when? How? Where? Why?”

Matthew makes some sort of noise that sounds halfway between a groan and a laugh. “What do you mean why? Because I love you just as much as you love me, you doofus. In the exact same way. I. Love. You.” He punctuates each word with a jab to Gunwook’s chest.

Gunwook is having a really hard time processing this unexpected turn of events.

“Um, forgive me for asking, but— when the hell did this happen?” He pauses. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. Like, I feel like I should be kneeling at your feet right now and thanking God for bringing you into my life. Or something equally dramatic. But… I have absolutely no idea when we started dating. Or how.”

Matthew squints at him. “Holy shit. You’re lucky I love you so much.”

Gunwook nods without even thinking about it. “I am. Luckiest guy in the world. Still trying to wrap my head around it, by the way. So, um, how…?”

Something pokes at Gunwook’s thigh, and he turns to see Gia — no longer under the covers — rubbing his head against Gunwook’s skin.

Matthew sighs. “Five months ago. Do you remember when I asked you whether we could move in together one day, after all of this idol stuff is behind us and we’re free to lead the lives we want?”

Gunwook nods, a vivid memory floating to the front of his mind.

(All his memories of Matthew are as brightly coloured as Matthew himself is.)

“We shook on it, then we pinky promised to uphold the agreement. Then you said that you couldn’t live without me and told me we were going to elope to Canada.”

Gunwook does remember that. He nods again.

“Yeah. I started counting from that day.”

Gunwook fishmouths.

“B–But… we never, like, kissed or anything… not that that’s the only or most important indicator of being in a romantic relationship, of course!” He scrambles to explain when the words come out all wrong. “But just, well, you know…”

Matthew bites his lip. “Yeah, I kinda just assumed you weren’t ready yet. Since this is your first relationship and all. I was happy to take it slow and let you take the lead when you feel confident and comfortable enough. So I never said anything, or tried to do anything.”

He shrugs, his eyes tracking the swish of Gia’s tail against the duvet. “Besides, it’s not like we don’t, like, cuddle or hug or hold hands, or anything. I mean, we literally fall asleep wrapped around each other every damn day. You use my shampoo all the time! I wear your clothes! We literally raised Gia together! What kind of friends do that?”

Gunwook’s jaw drops. “Holy shit.”

“I know.”

“Holy shit!”

“I know!”

“We’re dating. We’ve been dating. Oh my god, I’m dating Seok Matthew. Oh my god.”

The pieces slide into place, then, and god, Gunwook is so fucking stupid.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, hyung. I— I had no idea.”

Matthew shrugs, the furrow between his eyebrows finally smoothing itself out as his shoulders sag in relief. “No, honestly, it’s on me for not making it clearer. Technically, we never properly asked each other out… as in, like, to be boyfriends and stuff. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No!” Gunwook splutters, cupping his hands around Matthew’s wrists. His heart is pounding so hard he can barely hear himself over the way it’s ricocheting in his ribcage. “No, you’re right, I was just being stupid. What kind of friends talk about living together forever and eloping halfway across the world where it’s legal to get married?”

He tugs Matthew closer to him. “I was just being an idiot. An oblivious idiot, but an idiot who’s very much in love with you.”

Gia chooses this moment to swat at Gunwook’s knee. Gunwook can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips.

“See? Even Gia agrees that I’m the one who was being stupid.”

Matthew smiles, then, bright and genuine, and Gunwook feels his heart stutter in his chest.

“Let me do it right,” Gunwook promises, his eyes blurring with emotion that he’d repressed for years, “let me make this right, for you.”

Matthew meets his gaze with a light in his eyes that Gunwook’s always seen directed at him, but it’s the first time he realises what it means.

He nods, and Gunwook takes Matthew’s hands in his. He brings them up to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to the back of his left palm, then his right.

“Matthew,” he starts, the lump in his throat resurfacing, but for an entirely different reason this time. “I love you. Thank you for loving me enough to be this patient with me, even though I was a complete fool who didn’t see that what we had wasn’t normal or platonic in any sense of the word.”

Matthew laughs, the sound wet with emotion, hopelessly fond.

“Please. Will you do me the honour of letting me be your boyfriend, now? Properly, this time round. Let me love you right.”

Matthew sniffles, pulling his hand out of Gunwook’s grasp to swat him on the shoulder. It’s half-hearted, his punch completely devoid of strength, but wrapped with unmistakable fondness as his fingers brush the outline of Gunwook’s collarbones. Gia seems to find this highly amusing, because he follows suit and begins batting at Gunwook’s knee insistently.

“You idiot, when have you ever loved me wrong?” Matthew scowls, but there’s no real bite behind it. “Yes. Yes. A million times, yes.”

Then Gunwook finds himself with his lap full of a sobbing, giggling Matthew, desperate fingers coming up to grip at his shoulders, his arms, his waist, anything Matthew can get his hands on.

And Gunwook’s clutching at him just as hard, roving over his back and his arms and his lithe frame, trembling so imperceptibly that Gunwook wouldn’t even realise Matthew was shaking unless he’s in his lap like this, like he always is.

The last thing Gunwook registers before he pulls Matthew up to connect their lips, fingers gripping his chin gently, as if terrified that exerting even the slightest bit of strength would cause the boy in his arms to fall apart, is Matthew’s whispered laugh against his lips:

“Definitely boyfriends, now.”

Bonus I.

“Sorry, hyung, I used up the last of your conditioner, I think. I’ll pop by the store and get you a new bottle tomorr— what the fuck?”

Gunwook stops short as he rounds the corner into his room, the hair toweling through his hair stilling.

It’s not just that Matthew is in his room. Matthew is always in Gunwook’s room, to be honest, because Gunwook has a bigger bed, and according to his boyfriend, Gunwook’s room “smells like Gunwook”. Gunwook had pointed out that they share body washes and shampoos, so really their rooms probably smell the same, but Matthew had insisted that no, they don’t, and starfished on Gunwook’s bed as if trying to make a point. And that had been the end of that.

It’s that Matthew is shirtless in his room, kneeling on the floor and rubbing Gia’s chin affectionately, all while every inch of his skin is literally glowing under the moonlight sifting through the windows. Tiny red spots bloom on the corner of his shoulder blade, a reminder of where Gunwook’s mouth had been last night.

So really, no one can blame Gunwook for what he does next. Which is to grab his phone from his nightstand and snap a quick picture of the domestic scene in front of him to imprint the memory in his brain forever.

(As if he could ever forget, even without the visual evidence. Gunwook just really likes taking pictures of Matthew, okay? Sue him.)

Gia lets out a particularly loud purr, then, right as Gunwook’s thumb hovers over the shutter, and Matthew responds in kind — by purring right back at Gia, the sound comical with how exaggerated it is. The fond laugh in the back of his throat bubbles over, and Gunwook’s hand shakes as he presses the shutter. Once, then twice, then another time for good measure. You can never have too many pictures of your boyfriend on your phone. Especially when said boyfriend is Seok Matthew.

(The 51,000 pictures in his gallery are proof of that. What? His boyfriend is gorgeous. Gunwook is not ashamed.)

He doesn’t bother checking it. Only tosses his phone back onto the nightstand and crawls straight into bed with Gia, pulling Matthew up with one swift tug. Gunwook bundles his boyfriend close to his chest, Gia snug in between them, sandwiched by his dads and nosing at their necks lazily.

Matthew giggles, the sound miraculous like the unfurling of a flower at the end of spring. He presses closer into Gunwook, peppering kisses into Gia’s fur, and yeah.

Gunwook has everything he has ever wanted right here.

(The pictures turn out beautifully, albeit a little blurry. Gunwook sends the clearest one to Matthew with a heart emoticon and makes it his wallpaper.

Two days later, Matthew uploads that picture onto his Pluschat. They sit and scroll through Twitter after, Gia purring at the foot of the bed as they chortle at the chaos that the fans descend into.

The fans call them crazy and beg for a family picture of the three of them together.

Gunwook takes one look at the selfie they took in bed last night — hair tousled, lips swollen, and hickeys littering Matthew’s bare collarbones with Gia snuggled in between them — and promptly closes the app.

The fans can wait a little longer. This one is for Gunwook’s eyes only.)

Bonus II.

Eleven months later, Gunwook finds himself back at the adoption centre.

It hasn’t changed much. The room is still filled with the excited barks and purrs of the animals prancing around in their cages, thrilled at the sight of fresh faces. Gunwook notices that the toy corner has expanded, and the two cute kittens that Matthew had been cooing over the last time they were here are nowhere to be found.

Good. He hopes they’re with loving families, now.

It feels like a lifetime ago, when he’d come here with Matthew to adopt the stubborn ball of fluff currently squirming in Gunwook’s arms, clearly restless and eager to join the other cats in the room. He smooths an assuring hand down Gia’s back and presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

“You’re excited to be back, huh? Are these your friends? You miss them, don’t you?” Gunwook laughs when Gia lets out a particularly loud meow, as if in agreement. “Okay, fine, you can go play with them. I’m gonna put you down now, okay?”

It takes five seconds for Gunwook to lower Gia to the floor. It barely even takes two for Gia to scamper off as soon as his paws hit the ground, colliding straight into another cat and sending both of them sprawling across the tiles.

Matthew laughs, coming over to slip a palm into Gunwook’s as he watches Gia pick himself up and scurry off again, chasing invisible butterflies. “God, he’s so stupid,” Matthew sighs, hopelessly endeared. “I love him so much.”

Gunwook is about to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Matthew’s ear and say something extraordinarily cheesy like “I’m stupid, too. Love me.” when a loud cough pierces the air.

They both turn.

Yujin is staring at them, unimpressed.

“The first time we see one another in three weeks and you two are already making me want to turn around and go home,” their youngest sighs, his lips quirking up when a kitten brushes past his ankle. “I already have to deal with one couple in their honeymoon phase on the daily, can we not make it two?”

Hanbin chuckles, pulling Hao in closer by the hip. “You’re lucky it isn’t four like it used to be, Yujin-ah. Though I certainly wish it was. I’d sit through an eternity of third-wheeling if it means all nine of us get to be together again.”

“Easy for you to say, hyung, you’re not the one ninth-wheeling! I am!” Yujin huffs, but there’s no real heat behind it. His eyes soften, and Gunwook feels his heart lurch in solidarity.

Yeah. They all miss it, being together. All nine of them. It helps that they make it a point to see one another at least once a month, but, well. It’s different, all the same.

Jiwoong lets out an undignified snort in the background as Gunwook turns to look at Gyuvin and Ricky, who have been superglued to each other’s sides all morning, Gyuvin’s hand never leaving Ricky’s waist. Gyuvin sticks a tongue out at Yujin and pulls Ricky closer.

“You know, you were the one giving both of us advice on how to win the other over for a year. A whole year! The whole time you knew that we liked each other and didn’t say a word about it. You just watched us dance around each other like bumbling fools while enjoying your imaginary popcorn. I don’t want to hear you complaining now,” Gyuvin jabs a finger in Yujin’s general direction as he squints at Jiwoong, who is still laughing far too loud for someone who hasn’t figured his own situationship out yet.

“That’s because it was entertaining then. And also because I thought you two couldn’t possibly get worse. I take it all back now, you’re definitely much more unbearable than before. Please go back to the idiots in denial phase.”

Ricky mimes throwing a rock (or a really large tomato, Gunwook isn’t sure) at Yujin. Yujin tucks himself behind Hanbin without a second thought.

Their leader only laughs and turns to cup Yujin’s chin in his palm. Hao squishes his cheeks and coos.

“Awww, don’t worry, Yujinie, we won’t let you be left out,” Hanbin trills, not letting go of Hao for even a second as he speaks. “Come, help my Hao and I pick out a puppy to adopt.”

“Hey, we should get one too, Rwik,” Gyuvin pipes up, tugging Ricky down with him as they crouch to pat the puppy nosing at their calves. “Gunwook and Matthew hyung have a cat. Hanbin hyung and Hao hyung are about to get a dog. Should we get a squirrel? Or maybe a possum?”

Ricky hums in that quiet, thoughtful way of his as he muses over the idea. “Maybe a cat. I like cats.”

Gyuvin doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re my cat. I like you.”

Gunwook is unbelievably thankful when Taerae hacks his lungs out, drowning out whatever response Ricky might’ve given to Gyuvin’s ridiculous profession of love.

“Seriously, one day is all I ask for, please,” Taerae groans, plopping himself to the floor in exasperation. “I’m going to start flaking on our monthly reunions if this is what I’m going to have to put up with every time. It’s bad enough that I share a dorm with these two freaked out lovebirds. Have some empathy for your poor hyung.”

A kitten ambles over, wobbling on its feet, and Taerae picks it up immediately, his complaints giving way to an endeared gasp. Jiwoong drops down next to him and two puppies clamber into his lap excitedly.

Gunwook gives it a week.

(Matthew insists that it’ll take two, because apparently “Taerae is all talk no action” and “Jiwoong hyung is too oblivious to realise that Taerae not flirting unabashedly with him means that he’s head-over-heels into him and not that he doesn’t like him”. Usually, Gunwook would never dream of disagreeing with Matthew on anything, but well — there’s a first time for everything.)

“Ooh, this puppy is so cute, look at the way he’s pawing at the floor…” Hao gasps as he admires a grey husky that’s probably twice the size of Gia. Hanbin follows his gaze immediately, his eyes lighting up when he sees what Hao does. And as if they were truly one being, the pair beeline towards said puppy with a synergised determination Gunwook hadn’t seen them exhibit since the day of the Boys Planet finale.

Yujin takes one look at the couples (and soon-to-be couple) around the room and seems to come to the conclusion that Hanbin and Hao are the least exhausting to be around. He shrugs and trails after them like a bunny following its owner, or a child following his parents. Looking at them like this, Gunwook thinks he understands why the fans call them ‘Familyz’.

Matthew tugs at his arm, then, and Gunwook turns to look at him. His boyfriend’s eyes are shining with reverence, and Gunwook’s heart trips over itself like it always does when he looks at Matthew.

“Let’s go play with the puppies and kittens, too. I feel left out,” he sulks, squeezing Gunwook’s fingers absentmindedly. “Also, we gotta make sure Gia hasn’t accidentally picked a fight with a newborn puppy, or something. Our kitten’s got claws.”

Our kitten.

Gunwook doesn’t even bother trying to tamp down the wide grin on his face. “Yes, honey,” he murmurs, and lets himself be pulled along.

Around them, the enthusiastic yips and purrs crescendo as the rest of their friends get swarmed by overexcited animals. Gunwook glances at Hanbin and Hao in the far corner of the room, crouched over the same grey husky that they’ve been giving endless head pats to for the past five minutes; at Yujin, sitting cross-legged on the floor with approximately four miniature puppies curled up in his lap; at Gyuvin and Ricky, who both have their faces pressed up against the glass and are currently making a variety of high-pitched noises to the small kittens in the cage; at Jiwoong and Taerae, their knees knocking together as they lavish kisses on the puppies in their arms.

He looks at Matthew, who’s managed to wrestle Gia back from attempting to scratch this poor confused puppy who had really only been trying to chase his own tail, and smiles at the way Matthew leans into him, subconsciously seeking Gunwook out, even while he’s got his hands full with mock-disciplining their mischievous cat.

Gunwook’s heart warms.

It doesn’t get much better than this.