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If you were to ask Dunk to sit down and write about his feelings… well, he would simply tell you no. He’s never been someone who found much ease in stringing words together to explain how he feels. He shows more through action, choosing to love in a silent sort of way — a kind of love that shows up in what he does, not what he says.
For him, love has always been showing up for Joong without being asked. Remembering Joong’s favorite drink. Buying Joong the ring he wanted without him knowing. Or simply being there for him, away from the cameras, when there was no audience to see it. Going to events he never would because Joong wanted him to.
He chooses to keep his love private, knowing that, truly, it is the only way to keep it safe. If he shares it, people tear it to pieces. They pick it apart, claim pieces of it for themselves, turn something that belongs only to them into something everyone feels entitled to have an opinion on. They don’t see it as the delicate thing it truly is — something that needs to be held carefully, protected rather than displayed.
It’s not easy loving someone in the industry they are in. It’s even worse when they are both males and each other’s onscreen partner. Everything they do is scrutinized to the point of morphing every word or action into something it was never meant to be. A glance becomes a statement. A touch becomes proof. Silence becomes suspicion. Even the smallest, most ordinary moments between them can be pulled apart and given a meaning neither of them intended.
Joong used to be the one who would share every single thought he had with everyone. That was his nature. He wore love on his sleeve, giving it freely to anyone he held dear — hell, to everyone he even briefly encountered. He had never seemed to understand how to love halfway. If he cared about someone, they knew it. If he missed someone, he said it. If he was happy to see someone, his whole face would light up before he ever had the chance to hide it.
It’s one of the things about him that Dunk fell in love with but it also scared him. Not because he didn’t like it, but because he knew the toll it took on Joong. Because the world had taught Joong, again and again, that anything he gave freely could be taken from him just as easily.
And Dunk had watched it happen.
He’d watched Joong become more careful with his words. Watched him hesitate before posting something that once would have come naturally. Watched him learn to second-guess a smile, a caption, a simple gesture of affection. Little by little, the openness that had once come so effortlessly to him had started to feel like something he needed permission to have.
Dunk hated that. He hated that loving people had started to feel dangerous for Joong but more than that, he hated knowing that sometimes, even he was part of the reason Joong had learned to hold back.
Because Dunk had always been careful. Too careful, perhaps.
Where Joong reached, Dunk sometimes hesitated. Where Joong wanted to say something, Dunk sometimes swallowed his own words. Where Joong wanted to hold on, Dunk sometimes had been the one reminding him that there were cameras watching.
It had never been because Dunk loved him any less. If anything, it was the opposite. He loved him enough to be afraid of what the world could do with something so precious and maybe that was the problem. Because somewhere along the way, Dunk had forgotten that protecting something and hiding it were not always the same thing. It’s something he’s been working on, not because Joong asked him to change but because he wanted to be the person that Joong deserves.
He looks across the room now, watching Joong without saying anything.
Joong is sitting quietly, his attention fixed somewhere in front of him, but Dunk knows him well enough to recognize the slight tension in his shoulders. The way his fingers keep fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. The way he keeps taking a breath like he wants to say something and then changing his mind. Jan is talking to him and Joong nods along but his mind is somewhere else entirely.
Dunk knows that look. It’s one he’s seen countless times before. This time, though, instead of waiting for Joong to come to him, Dunk moves first. He crosses the space between the tables, stopping when he reaches the end of Joong’s table. Jan stops, and Joong looks up, following her gaze.
Their eyes meet, and neither of them says anything at first. Dunk reaches down and takes Joong’s hand. It’s such a small thing. So simple. But Joong’s fingers immediately curl around his as if that’s what he had been waiting for.
Dunk looks down at their hands for a moment before lifting his eyes back to Joong. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
Jan and JingJing scoot over, moving to the other table Dunk had just occupied. Dunk sits down, and Joong instinctively tries to move away, giving him room to sit, but Dunk doesn’t want that. He doesn’t let Joong move far, sitting in the booth before quickly pulling him back until he’s pressed firmly against his side.
Joong tenses at first, his eyes darting around the room as though suddenly remembering where they are and who might be watching. But Dunk keeps his arm around him, making no effort to hide the affection. After a moment, Joong’s shoulders slowly loosen, and he relaxes into his touch.
Joong’s expression softens. “I’m okay,” he says quietly. “It’s your birthday. Don’t worry about me.”
Dunk hates the diplomacy of that answer. The careful way Joong is trying to make himself smaller, trying to keep his own feelings from interfering with Dunk’s day.
“I don’t care what day it is. You’re more important.”
Joong looks at him, brown eyes roaming along his face as if searching for any hint that he doesn’t mean it. “I’m okay, I promise.”
“What happened?” Dunk presses, knowing that something changed between Joong giving him his present and now. “Please don’t try to carry it by yourself. We are a couple. What hurts you, hurts me. I’ll help you carry it.”
Joong looks away, his jaw working slightly as he tries to figure out the right words. Dunk waits patiently, not wanting to pressure him. He simply keeps his arm around Joong, thumb moving slowly against his side.
He knows Joong. If he pushes too hard, Joong will retreat further into himself. So Dunk gives him the space to find the words on his own.
“Your birthday message,” Joong finally says and Dunk’s brow furrows. “The fans — well, people are thinking it’s a goodbye message. Which, I guess, is kind of my fault.” Joong pauses, swallowing. “I just didn’t want to…” He trails off.
Dunk waits, just watching as Joong’s gaze drops to their hands, his thumb tracing absently over Dunk’s knuckles. “I just didn’t want to give away too much.”
Dunk’s chest tightens. There it is. The thing Joong had been carrying around all evening, carefully tucked behind smiles and birthday wishes and pretending everything was fine.
Dunk turns his hand beneath Joong’s, threading their fingers together. “Give away too much of what?”
Joong doesn’t answer immediately. “Us,” he finally whispers.
The word sits between them.
Dunk studies him, his expression softening. “You were trying to protect us?”
Joong gives a small nod. “I know people are going to talk no matter what I say. If I say too much, they’ll take it apart. If I say too little, they’ll make up their own story.” He lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “I just thought… maybe if I kept it vague, it would stay ours.”
Dunk’s heart aches because he understands. He understands more than Joong probably realizes.
“You don’t have to protect me from them,” Dunk says quietly.
Joong looks back at him. “I’m not trying to protect you.”
“You are.” Dunk squeezes his hand. “You’re also trying to protect us.” Joong’s eyes flicker. “And I love you for that,” Dunk continues. “But you don’t have to carry that responsibility alone.”
Joong stares at him for a long moment. “I just don’t want them to think we’re ending.”
Dunk’s breath catches because words are so quiet that, for a second, he almost wishes he had heard them wrong. “Joong…”
“I know it sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t.”
Joong looks down again. “I just…” He takes a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to love you in a way that doesn’t make people think they own some part of it.”
Dunk doesn’t say anything. He simply lifts their joined hands slightly, looking down at them before bringing Joong’s knuckles to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to them, and it has Joong flushing all the way to the tips of his ears.
They aren’t a heavy PDA couple, especially not in front of their friends, but Dunk just can’t find it in himself to care about that right now. Not when Joong is sitting beside him, carrying all of this alone and worrying about something Dunk knows he never needed to worry about in the first place.
“You don’t have to figure that out tonight.” Joong looks at him as Dunk’s thumb brushes slowly over the back of his hand. “It’s my birthday,” Dunk says, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “So can I tell you what my birthday wish was?”
Joong’s eyebrows furrow. “No, it’s supposed to be a secret.”
Dunk laughs softly. “That’s not even a real superstition. Plus, it’s my birthday. I feel like I can do whatever I want.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Joong says, but his tone sounds far too fond for the words to hold any real bite. “So what’s your wish, then?”
“That I never spend another birthday without you,” Dunk says softly.
Joong goes completely still. For a moment, the noise of the restaurant seems to fade around them. Dunk watches the words settle over Joong’s face, watches the surprise flicker through his eyes before something warmer takes its place.
“You can’t say things like that,” Joong whispers.
“Why not?”
“Because…” Joong looks down, suddenly very interested in their hands. “You’re going to make me cry.”
Dunk’s smile widens. “Then cry.”
Joong lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, shaking his head. “You really are ridiculous.”
“And you love me anyway.”
Joong looks back at him. “I do.”
Dunk gives his hand another squeeze. “Good.”
Joong’s gaze lingers on him for a moment longer before he quietly shifts closer, resting his head against Dunk’s shoulder again. Dunk lets him, not caring about the wandering eyes around him. It’s not like people don’t know they are in a relationship anyways. He presses his cheek lightly against the top of Joong’s head, his arm settling more securely around him and for the first time since Joong has been pressed against him, Dunk feels him truly relax.
Dunk figures this is all he needed, but a part of him — one he rarely allows to come to the forefront — makes him feel like this isn’t enough.
Dunk hates that people make Joong feel this way, and naively, he thought it would get better after Joong cried onstage during their fanmeet in Seoul. It’s something Dunk doesn’t like thinking about for very long because something ugly unfurls in his chest when he does — something rooted in anger, something he knows he shouldn’t let get the better of him.
He almost snapped the moment they got backstage, pulling out his phone to give everyone a piece of his mind, but he was stopped by Joong’s hand settling over his.
“Don’t,” Joong had said softly. “It’s not worth it.”
Dunk had wanted to laugh at that, but he wouldn’t dare laugh at Joong.
“You are worth it.”
Joong had shaken his head. “Don’t let them tear you apart too,” he’d said gently. “Please.”
Dunk had let it go then — at least in a loose sense of the word. He hadn’t forgotten. He’d simply chosen Joong over his anger.
But this time, he can’t.
Sure, no one deserves a statement from either of them. No one deserves clarification. Or reassurance. They owe the fans nothing beyond a positive experience when they meet and a thanks for helping them get where they are.
But Dunk owes Joong everything.
He’s spent so long believing that keeping quiet was the best way to protect what they have. That silence could keep the world from getting its hands on something so precious but sitting here now, with Joong curled against his side and that familiar worry still lingering behind his eyes, Dunk realizes something.
Silence isn’t protecting him anymore.
Maybe it never was.
Maybe all it has done is leave Joong alone with the weight of everyone else’s expectations.
Dunk looks down at him. Joong is still staring at their hands, his thumb moving absentmindedly over Dunk’s knuckles. He looks peaceful now but Dunk knows better.
He knows Joong well enough to recognize the difference between peace and temporary relief.
His jaw tightens.
No.
Not this time.
Dunk shifts slightly, reaching into his pocket and Joong notices almost immediately. “What are you doing?”
Dunk pulls out his phone. “Dunk.”
“I’m not doing anything for them.”
Joong looks at him, confused. “Then what are you doing?”
Dunk unlocks his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. “I’m doing something for you.”
Joong’s expression changes, a flicker of fear coloring his beautiful features. “Please don’t.”
Dunk finally looks at him. “I’m not going to explain us to anyone,” he says quietly. “I’m not going to give them anything they’re not entitled to.” Joong watches him carefully. “But I’m also not going to sit here and watch you blame yourself for something you didn’t do.”
“Dunk—”
“You said you didn’t want to give away too much.” His voice softens. “Okay. Then we won’t.” He turns the phone slightly in his hand. “But I can give you something.”
Joong’s brows draw together. “What?”
Dunk smiles faintly. “Certainty.”
Joong stares at him and Dunk looks down at the screen again.
His fingers begin to move. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s going to say yet. The only thing he knows is that he needs Joong to understand. Needs him to understand that to him, his birthday message wasn’t goodbye. That Joong isn’t something he’s trying to leave behind. That whatever the world thinks they see, whatever stories people decide to build around them, none of it changes what is real when the cameras are gone.
Dunk glances at Joong one more time and he starts typing.
Words have never come easily to him, but loving Joong always has. So that’s what he uses as his fingers move across the keyboard.
It’s difficult to write with one hand, but he refuses to put any sort of distance between them. Joong watches him quietly, not saying anything as Dunk types, his attention occasionally flickering between Dunk’s face and the phone in his hand.
Dunk knows Joong can’t see the screen from his angle, which he’s secretly grateful for because he makes more mistakes than he’d ever admit. He deletes entire sentences when they don’t sound right. Removes words that feel too empty. Adds others that somehow convey only half of what he really feels. He switches sentences around, rewrites them, stares at them for far too long, then starts all over again.
There are moments when he nearly gives up — not because he doesn’t know what he feels. That part has never been the problem. It’s because he doesn’t know how to fit something as enormous as his love for Joong into a handful of words without making it feel smaller.
So he keeps trying. His thumb moves slowly across the keyboard, his other hand still wrapped around Joong’s. He refuses to let go even when his wrist begins to ache. It takes him nearly thirty minutes before he finally stops.
He reads it one last time, then, before he can second-guess himself again, he hits send. Dunk exhales, feeling some relief now that it’s done.
Beside him, Joong’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Joong glances down, pulls it out, and unlocks the screen.
Dunk watches silently as Joong’s eyes flicker across each word.
🌻: thank you so much. you’re one of the most important people in my life someone i can’t do without. in every decision. in every new chapter as long as i have you everything will be good.
as always i hope you’ll be in every chapter of my life no matter what.
these past 5 years have been the best 5 years because you’ve been there through every success every birthday every concert everything we’ve done together. and i hope we’ll keep holding hands like this for a long long time.
love you 3000 my MJ 🤟🏻
Joong doesn’t say anything when he finishes reading.
He simply stares at the screen.
Dunk watches the emotions move across his face one after another — surprise, disbelief, something soft that makes his eyes shine.
Then Joong looks up. “You wrote all of that?”
Dunk shrugs, suddenly feeling far more vulnerable than he expected. “Yeah.”
“With one hand?”
Dunk glances down at their still-joined hands. “Had to.”
Joong’s lips curve into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes yet. “You really didn’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you?”
Dunk looks at him for a moment.
Because there are a hundred answers.
Because he loves him.
Because watching Joong hurt is unbearable.
Because five years with him has made Dunk understand that there are some things worth being uncomfortable for, worth risking misunderstanding for, worth putting into words even when words have never been his strength.
But he only gives him the simplest answer. “Because I wanted you to know.”
Joong looks back down at his phone and his thumb hovers over the message. “You really mean it?”
Dunk’s eyebrows draw together. “Every word.”
Joong swallows, blinking quickly. Then, without warning, he shifts closer. His arms wrap around Dunk, pulling him into a hug that’s a little awkward with them sitting beside each other, but Dunk doesn’t care. He immediately folds his arms around Joong, holding him tightly.
Joong buries his face against Dunk’s shoulder.
“I love you,” he whispers.
Dunk closes his eyes.
“I love you too.”
For a moment, neither of them moves, lost in the quiet together. The restaurant continues on around them — conversations overlapping, silverware clinking against plates, the occasional burst of laughter from another table — but none of it seems to reach them.
It’s interrupted by JingJing gasping as she stares at her phone. “Aw,” she exclaims loudly in the crowded restaurant. “My cute nong’s. You’re going to make me cry.”
Joong immediately pulls back, his face going bright red.
Dunk turns toward her, eyebrows raised. “Do you have my notifications on or something?”
JingJing looks completely unashamed, holding her phone up. “Well of course! Do you think I’m going to miss something like this?”
Jan leans over to look at her screen, and within seconds, her expression softens too. “Oh my God,” she murmurs. “You two are so cute.”
Joong groans, covering his face with both hands and leans forward to hunch over the table. “Please stop.”
“No,” JingJing says immediately. “Absolutely not. I have waited all trip for this level of romance.”
Dunk laughs, reaching over to tug gently at Joong’s wrists until he lowers his hands. He pulls him back, already missing his warmth against him.
“Leave him alone.”
JingJing points at them with her phone. “I will, but only because it’s your birthday.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” A beat passes. “Also,” she adds, “I’m sending this to everyone.”
Joong’s head snaps toward her. “JingJing!”
She bursts into laughter, and even Jan can’t hold hers back.
Dunk shakes his head, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face.
For the first time that night, Joong laughs too.
And maybe that’s enough.
Not because the words will stop people from talking. Not because one message can undo every cruel thing that has been said or erase every moment that made Joong question whether loving openly was worth the cost.
But because, right here, surrounded by people who love them, Joong is smiling again.
Dunk looks at him and squeezes his hand beneath the table.
Joong squeezes back.
Neither of them lets go.
Dunk may not always be the best with his words.
Sometimes he’ll get it wrong. Sometimes he’ll retreat into his own silence without meaning to. Sometimes he’ll search for the right thing to say and come up empty-handed. Sometimes they will fight over what is said and what isn’t.
He realizes now that loving Joong has never been the difficult part even when finding the right words to make him understand just how much is.
So Dunk will keep trying anyway.
Even when the words come out wrong. Even when he has to rewrite them a hundred times. Even when it takes him thirty minutes to say what his heart has known all along.
Because if there’s one thing Dunk never wants Joong to question, it’s this:
He is loved.
Completely and in every possible way the Dunk is capable of giving. He will be loved quietly, as Dunk has always loved him. He will be loved through Dunk’s actions, whether in private or in public. But he will also be loved loudly when he needs it.
And for as long as Dunk has anything to say about it, he will find the words.
For Joong.