Chapter Text
The three months that go by feel kind of like a hazy stupor that Hongjoong fades in and out of whenever there isn’t something fully occupying his attention–which of course isn’t often, but when the fog clears and he’s left with his thoughts it’s torturous so he tries his best to avoid it all costs–he puts in more hours at work, he obsesses over every detail with the kids, he starts sleeping with the TV on, and it’s a double-edged sword because it means he has to use Wooyoung’s birthday gift, but he starts using his camera again.
He’s used two of the four rolls already, filling the camera with pictures of the kids while they’re out and things he finds interesting as he moves around the city. It’s a muscle he hasn’t flexed in a long time and the more he does it the more correct it feels, and slowly his camera becomes more and more attached to him, eventually he never leaves the house without it unless it’s for a mundane trip to the store or a walk to pick Yeosang up from school.
The truth is, he misses Wooyoung, and if he lets himself sit in the quiet for too long that fact becomes all too apparent and he has to go find something else to do. But that only works for so many hours of the day and any time anything even remotely related to him presents itself, Hongjoong has to restart the process of shutting him out all over again. And really, nowhere is safe, not with how integrated their separate lives are without them even trying–the shared school, the same neighborhood, all the places they’d run into each other that all host even a tiny ounce of significance, and if Hongjoong lets down his guard enough, Wooyoung is all over his apartment too. The spot by the door for his shoes, the couch, his bed, and he curses himself over and over again for allowing it to happen.
By some stroke of extreme luck, he hasn’t seen Wooyoung once yet. He makes a conscious effort to not linger too long in places where might be possible–like after school–but after a certain point it starts to become kind of weird to him, and he starts to lift his head more, to look around the hallways of Yeosang’s school or peer down the sidewalk for an extra second before turning the corner, but it’s all to no avail. This is what you wanted , he has to remind himself more and more frequently as time passes.
And things feel different now. He finds himself on a shorter fuse, more prone to losing patience with the kids, more agitated by small inconveniences at work, and even though he can feel it happening, even though he hates himself for doing it, he can’t seem to stop his temper from flaring in tiny bursts that torch everything in their path.
It all comes to a head when the least deserving person after the kids is the one caught in his crosshairs.
San does the household and kids’ laundry as part of their agreement–Hongjoong has always done his own. But one day, for whatever reason, one of Hongjoong’s cashmere t-shirts ends up in the hamper with the kid’s clothes and San washes and dries it without realizing and when he’s folding the laundry he finds it, shrunken to half its size, and he walks cautiously into the living room holding it up in front of his chest and saying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see it.”
Hongjoong is completely incensed and he snatches it out of San’s hands, not yelling but his tone is cutting, “You can’t fucking dry cashmere.” He inspects the fabric closely, the delicate knit now matted and coarse.
San’s voice is soft, genuinely apologetic, “It was an accident,” he points toward the dryer, “I don’t know how it got into the kid’s hamper.”
Hongjoong balls the shirt up in his fist, “I would think a three hundred dollar adult-sized shirt would stick out amongst a bunch of shitty cotton t-shirts and kids socks.”
San finally lets his frustration, that has been simmering for quite some time, take over. Joong’s moods have become more and more volatile but he’s never felt like he was in a place to say anything. He throws his arm out, pointing lazily at the shirt, “Who the fuck owns a cashmere t-shirt anyway?”
Hongjoong practically loses it, standing up and storming into the kitchen. He rips out the drawer that holds the trash can and stuffs the shirt into the empty (because San already took the trash out) plastic bag while spitting, “Well it doesn’t matter now because it’s fucking ruined.” He kicks the drawer closed with his foot.
“Great, dock it from my pay then,” San huffs, walking back to the dryer to finish his task in silence.
Obviously Hongjoong is not going to do that, but he’s pissed off. He goes back to his spot at the table, answering emails as the lingering rage ripples through him. San moves around him cautiously, not saying a word to him until the kids are home and he has to pretend like everything’s fine–even then, he’s short, voice quieter than usual, the familiar warmth and magic of San gone.
He and Hongjoong have never had an argument before. There have been moments where San has driven him a little crazy, but Hongjoong never felt compelled to voice it, let alone treat San like he did today, not after everything he does for them. Once the ire wears off and he realizes he probably–definitely–overreacted, it feels gross and sticky, stifling everything in the apartment and he feels like he can’t move.
Once the kids are in bed, San silently gathers his things and leaves, Hongjoong sitting on the couch, his remorse having set in hours ago but too scared to bring it up and to apologize for acting like an asshole, instead just letting San finish his work silently. He tells himself he’s giving him space, but he worries that San needs a gentler, more proactive hand than that. He wouldn’t know, he’s never had to do this before. His mind goes to the worst outcome– What if San doesn’t come back and he starts to panic a little, unsure of what he should do to rectify the situation.
He walks over to the trash where he stuffed the shirt hours ago. He digs through the plastic bag, now littered with remnants of a dinner that San made for the kids, trying to find it to no avail, and he starts to wonder if he imagined the whole thing. He looks around the kitchen, and then goes into his bedroom, where there is his off-white, albeit shrunken, t-shirt, folded neatly and sitting on the foot of his bed.
He pulls out his phone.
<I’m sorry
<We can talk more tomorrow if you want but I just want you to know I’m sorry
San doesn’t reply, but when he shows up the next morning, on time like he always does, Hongjoong has already prepared the protein shake he has daily from the powder he keeps in their pantry and there’s a full breakfast on the table for him. He watches as San puts his bag down carefully and takes a seat, eyeing Hongjoong without any real discernable emotion on his face.
He sits down at the table and fixes his eyes on the food in front of him, “I already ate.”
Hongjoong sighs, “Don’t be stubborn. I watch you scarf down the kid’s leftovers every day.”
San shrugs.
Hongjoong sits across from him and fidgets with his fingers, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that yesterday.”
San nods and takes the straw of the shake into his mouth with a raise of his eyebrows as if to say, You think?
“I haven’t been my best self lately.”
San puts the glass down, “You haven’t.” He doesn’t sound angry, just stating a fact. “I think I already know the answer, but what are you so pissy about?”
Hongjoong shakes his head, “I don’t know.”
“This all started after you ended things with Wooyoung.”
“San–”
“You can be upset about how things happened, but please don’t take it out on us anymore. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
Hongjoong is resigned after that. He doesn’t have anything more to say because he knows San is right–he knows that his constantly-sour mood is palpable and is wearing everyone’s patience thin. And worst of all, he knows it’s all because of what he did. So he just nods, “I’ll be better. I’m sorry.”
San waves one hand as he shovels food into his mouth with the other. Through stuffed cheeks he says, so deadpan that it’s almost funny, “Stop apologizing. It doesn’t suit you.”
When Yeosang comes into the kitchen Hongjoong runs to his room and grabs the shirt. He comes back to his nephew, too tired to protest, and pulls off his pajama top and slides the shirt over his torso. He smiles to himself, “It actually fits you perfectly.”
Yeosang pulls at the collar, whining, “It’s itchy. I don't like it.”
Hongjoong looks over at San, mouth full and wearing half a smile as he watches the two of them. He pulls the shirt off of Yeosang and tells him to go sit at the table, fixing them both plates as they join San.
Spring is finally in full effect and he’s taken a day off work to go see the cherry blossoms with the kids and San. He’s snapping away, filling half a roll of film with the delicate pink petals and the smiles of his nephews as they run around under the blooming trees, completely absorbed in how psyched they are over something seemingly so simple–he wishes he could take on a piece of that excitement, experience a little more wonder, but for now he’ll settle for capturing it, observing it. The three children start playing amongst themselves so he walks to a nearby bench and San follows, sitting next to him.
Since their first and only argument, things have been different between them–having a fight and then making up after it has brought them to some new level of mutual understanding. San is more honest with Hongjoong, and Hongjoong does more to help out San throughout the day, at minimum always making his shake for him in the morning. They speak more frankly to each other, and what was once an extremely long-running professional, quasi-familial relationship, now has turned into some sort of brotherhood.
They talk about way more these days, except Wooyoung, because every time San tries to bring it up Hongjoong gets so short with him that he just stops trying. Weeks go by and Hongjoong thinks he’s finally in the clear, but San clears his throat and says, “I saw Wooyoung yesterday.”
Hongjoong is completely still on the outside but inside a bomb has gone off inside his skull. He blinks his eyes rapidly a few times to clear the smoke and replies, “Okay.”
San sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “He asked about you.”
Hongjoong pushes his sunglasses up onto his head and rubs his eyes, “Why are you telling me this?”
San shrugs, “I just am. Since you won’t talk about it, I guess I have to.”
“No one has to talk about it.” Hongjoong crosses his legs then his arms. After biting his lip for a few seconds he adds, “What did you say about me?”
“Nothing really. I just said everything was the same.”
Hongjoong leans his head toward San with a raised eyebrow.
“Fine, I told him you’ve been kind of a nightmare to be around.”
“San.”
“Well, you have.”
Hongjoong uncrosses his legs and kicks at the dirt around the bench, “I’ve been better recently. At least give me credit where it’s due.”
San smiles, “You have, I guess. But really, I didn’t really talk about you. And he didn’t push it.”
Hongjoong sighs and leaves the conversation at that. He doesn’t need to talk more about Wooyoung. He doesn’t even want to think about him. He’s crafted a delicate little door to his mind and it’s Wooyoung-proof.
After a few minutes of silence, both watching the kids play, San shakes his head, “What’s wrong with you?”
Hongjoong’s eyebrows crease, “ What ?”
San sits back against the bench, “You actually seemed happy for a minute, then you just gave it all up, I don’t get it.”
Hongjoong’s temper is licking at his throat, San evidently feels like kicking down his door. “I didn’t give anything up . He wanted more and I didn’t. Wouldn’t I have been more of an asshole if I just…kept leading him on?”
San just sits there silently, but Hongjoong’s mind is already racing, having been forced to talk about this for the first time in weeks. He’s not angry with San, but the door has been opened and everything is threatening to spill in.
“I can’t do it again, San. And now there’s so much more on the line.”
“What do you mean?”
Hongjoong watches as Mingi picks up a pile of pink petals from the ground and dumps them over Yeosang’s head, “I’m not like you, San.” He looks down at his camera in his lap, “I think I only have so much affection and love I can give out, and they need it. And I’m scared it’s not enough.” He looks back at the three kids playing in the grass.
San’s eyebrows twist in confusion, “Why do you think that?”
“Because I lost someone for that exact reason.”
“Who? Seonghwa?”
Hongjoong nods, “He just left . And I know it wasn’t out of the blue but it felt that way when it happened. And–I can’t be with someone and take care of them,” he points to the kids, “And have that happen again.”
San is silent for a while before he says, “You don’t know that that will happen again.”
Hongjoong shakes his head, “I don’t want to find out.”
“Look, you have a short fuse, I’ll admit that. But I don’t think you have a shortage of love inside you. I think you’re so… touchy because you actually care a lot. It’s pretty ridiculous that you feel that way.”
Hongjoong looks at his fingers, “Most days I have to will myself to be soft with them. Like, it’s physically difficult for me to do. You’re always so gentle and kind with them. I don’t know how you do it.”
San laughs, “You think they don’t drive me crazy? I get frustrated with them all the time, we just never talk about it. And any time you seem frustrated you just shut down, so. I’m here to listen if you need me to.”
“You can’t be my therapist too, San.”
San rolls his eyes, “I could be your friend .” Hongjoong looks at him, the pull at the back of his throat indicating that he could cry if he’d let himself. He won’t, but he could. He never wanted to burden San with his feelings, he always assumed San was just doing his job.
“I’ve known you since Yeosang was born,” San continues, “And I’ve watched you do this all for the past three years. Do you really think I’d spend all this time with you if I didn’t care about them and you?” San chuckles, “I have plenty of other jobs I could take.”
Hongjoong looks at him with a smile, “Yeah but do any of them pay as well as I do?”
San laughs, but he clearly knows what Hongjoong is doing. “I just told you I care about you and you’re making a joke, Joong-ah.”
Hongjoong shakes his head, “I don’t even realize I’m doing it. What am I supposed to say right now?”
“That you care about me too and think of me as more than an employee.”
And he does. San isn’t an employee, he’s a fucking guardian angel sent from above that Hongjoong might actually be destitute without. Beyond that, he’s so many things Hongjoong admires and wishes he could be. He pats Sans thigh, “I care about you, San. And if you’ll have me, I could really use a friend right now.”
San smirks, “Was that so hard?”
Hongjoong throws himself against the bench and flings his head back, “It was fucking brutal.”
San laughs, then adds, his tone more serious, “You don’t have to be this warm affectionate person one hundred percent of the time to have love inside you, Joong-ah.”
Hongjoong keeps his head back, staring at the blue sky through the leaves of a tree. “I just feel like there’s something wrong with me. I want to be that way, but it feels impossible."
San places a hand on his shoulder, “People show that they care in a lot of ways. You don’t have to pressure yourself to do it the same way as everyone else. Hugs and kisses are nice but there are other things too. You gave up your whole life to keep theirs intact. That’s a pretty big gesture, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know.”
San finally resigns, lets the conversation lie, and Hongjoong now has to kick around all the messy unkempt feelings that have been let out. Was what he did an act of love? Maybe. It wasn’t like he sat there and thought that that day in the lawyer’s office, but maybe San is right. But there’s still so many places where he feels like he’s falling short. He sees how other kids interact with their parents and how San always has this abundance of warmth flowing out of him and it makes him feel like he can’t ever measure up because that’s never been who he is . But San is right about one thing, they’ve never talked about any of this. They’ve never even talked about how hard it is to take care of the kids before. Hongjoong realizes he’s been suffering in silence, meanwhile he’s had a ready and willing soundboard, a support system, in his home every day for years.
As he sorts through the messy feelings, Seongwha comes to mind. He doesn’t like it, but instead of running away from it, he allows himself to sit with it. While a lot of his breakup with Seonghwa has been blocked out, he remembers how confused and abandoned he felt, like he couldn’t do anything to fix it, his destiny completely out of his hands. And how empty everything felt once it was over. In hindsight he should have seen it coming, but then-Hongjoong didn’t know just how much it was killing Seonghwa, how much he had been worn down before he finally decided to leave.
So he locked himself up. And then he went and made himself a parent and until that night at Yeosang’s recital, everything had been fine . Or had it? Wooyoung had certainly stirred something inside of him, but it felt too close to something he’d felt before. It maybe even felt bigger . And at the end of the day, Hongjoong is just afraid . And as that realization hits him he’s distracted by the sound of a child screaming and he knows who it is before he even lifts his head from the bench. San starts to move but Hongjoong just pats his leg, “I got it,” and he’s running to scoop Yunho up in his arms, carrying him back to the bench and comforting him until he’s calm.
True friendship is something Hongjoong realizes he’s not very well acquainted with. But San is patient and willing to call him out when he needs it, so he feels himself softening at home. He’s cuddlier with the kids, and instead of them just operating around each other like satellites, he and San spend most of their days talking about things that have nothing to do with either of their jobs and it starts to feel like a real family with each passing day.
But that doesn’t mean that he slows down, or is any less fervent in need to keep everything perfect . It’s the one thing San can’t get through to him about, this made-up pressure he puts on himself to make sure that everything is always happening exactly when and exactly how he thinks it should.
Hongjoong is pretty sure he’s had a low-grade fever for two days–San clocks it immediately from the tint of his cheeks and the kind of hazy way he speaks that is absolutely not his normal speed, but Hongjoong brushes him off, says he didn’t sleep well, and San yields but pulls out a bottle of pills and places it next to Hongjoong’s computer, walking away without saying a word.
There’s a big summer exhibition opening at one of the larger galleries and he doesn’t have the luxury of coordinating it all remotely, so he’s set an alarm for himself to take ibuprofen every six hours and he’s off to work with a fuzzy, hot-but-cold feeling all over his body as he answers emails and directs shipments to their rightful destinations, every now and then hauling a box across the gallery to make things go faster.
He’s sorting through artist contracts when his alarm goes off–he absentmindedly hits the button on the side of his phone to silence it and reaches into his bag to take two more pills, all without taking his eyes off the screen in front of him. His boss comes in to review the contracts with him and he’s so absorbed in what he’s doing he doesn’t realize 4:30 has come and gone until one of his closer coworkers walks by and says Don’t you usually leave by now?
And that’s when all hell breaks loose. Hongjoong’s eyes go wide when he realizes he should have been at Yeosang’s school five minutes ago and the alarm he silenced was not for his medication but for his daily reminder to wrap up and go to pick-up.
“Fuck!” He frantically starts packing his bag as his boss watches him with a kind of sympathetic look on his face, and Hongjoong promises he’ll finish reviewing tonight as he rushes out the door, barely hearing how his boss utters Don’t worry about it.
It’s early June but it’s one of those uncharacteristically hot days that pop up every now and then as the weather starts to transition. The galleries are always cold so he’s in a long-sleeved button down with a sweater and pants and he doesn’t have the time to evaluate his outfit choices as he starts running down the street. It’s rush hour so he opts for a train instead of a cab even though the metro stop is still a ten minute walk from Yeosang’s school.
He gets onto the crowded train and four stops later he’s practically opening the doors with his own hands and running as fast as he can out of the station, up the two flights of stairs and back out into the heat. He can feel the sweat pooling on his lower back and dripping down his forehead but he doesn’t care because in the almost three years he’s been doing this, he’s never once been late to pick up Yeosang from school and he’s cursing at himself and his fever and his job and his alarm and finally the school comes into his view as he turns the corner, still running, and when he gets inside he’s panting, asking the security officer at the desk if there’s a place for late pick-up.
She looks him up and down and shakes her head, “Late pick-up hasn’t started yet–kids are still in their classrooms. Hey–are you okay?”
Hongjoong just says thank you and runs toward the stairwell that goes up to Yeosang’s classroom, his heart is beating so loud he doesn’t hear the ringing that starts in his ears, and when he gets to the open door of the classroom he grips onto it with one hand, leaning all his weight against the frame as he heaves, “I’m sorry–I’m so–” but the world starts to get fuzzy, and the ringing in his ears goes completely silent and suddenly his head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. The last thing he sees is Yeosang’s teacher rushing toward him before everything goes black.
***
He hears their voices before he opens his eyes. He can feel someone tugging off his sweater over his head and then cold on his forehead and his chest, muffled voices saying Call the nurse and EMS is on the way and then he hears another voice, more distant but there, and it finally snaps his eyes open.
The lights of the classroom are blinding and he tries to use his hand to cover them but someone is telling him not to move and then there’s that voice again and he lifts his head slightly to see a man with a familiar frame and long black hair pulled back into a ponytail shuffling two small bodies out into the hallway and when the man turns around Hongjoong wishes he would black out again.
Another woman joins the circle hovering over him and she’s dragging a chair over and putting his feet up on it and reaching for his wrist to feel for his pulse. Hongjoong just lays there until he sees two people–a man and a woman–wearing official-looking uniforms and carrying red bags with white crosses on them. He tries to force himself to sit up, to shake everyone off of him, “I’m fine, really. I’m fi—”
“Joong-ah, stop.” And that voice stills him completely, not because he wants to obey, but because he hasn’t heard it in so long and because it’s dripping with sincerity and caring. Wooyoung finally crouches down next to him, knees near his head, “Let them check you.”
The two medics place their bags down with a thud and everyone except Wooyoung steps back, and they ask him to sit up, propping his back against the nearest wall, asking him questions he feels too out of it to answer– Did you take any medication today? What did you eat? Have you been feeling unwell? And he does his best to answer them, realizing he really hasn’t had much in his stomach besides fever reducers and coffee. So after checking his blood pressure and shining a few lights into his eyes, they stand up and help him into a kid-sized chair. They ask him if he has someone to help him get home and he shakes his head but then Wooyoung is there saying I live nearby, I’ll take him home and with that they collect their equipment and make their way out the door, boots and bags clunking clumsily.
Yeosang’s teacher brings him a cup of water and a bag of crackers from the kids snacks and when he tries to apologize she just shakes her head, “You were only ten minutes late, Mr. Kim. Really, it’s okay.”
And Hongjoong just sits there as Wooyoung gets up and walks toward the door, disappearing then reappearing a minute later. Before Hongjoong can even ask, he's pointing toward the door, “Yeosang is playing with Kyungmin.”
Hongjoong nods, “Thanks.” He finishes the water and goes to stand up to throw it out, but Wooyoung’s hands are on his shoulders forcing him back down in his seat.
“Just stay for a second, please ,” he says, frustration creeping into his voice. “You shouldn’t stand up so quickly. And eat that,” he points to the crackers.
Hongjoong eases under Wooyoung’s hands, indicating that he’ll stay put and Wooyoung takes the cup and walks it over to the trash can near the door. Hongjoong opens the crinkly bag of crackers and shoves one in his mouth. Before Wooyoung can turn around he starts, “I’m really okay, you don’t have to walk me home.”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “You just fainted. And Yeosang is sufficiently freaked out. I’m walking you home.”
Hongjoong winces, “Why is he freaked out? Where is he?”
Wooyoung pokes his head out the door and calls Yeosang, who appears in the doorway shortly after. He just stands there and stares at Hongjoong.
“Hey, I’m okay. Really,” Hongjoong stretches out his arms, “I just didn’t eat anything today. Come here.”
Yeosang walks over tentatively, stopping when he’s standing between Hongjoong’s bent legs, they’re eye to eye because of the kid-sized chair, “You looked really sick.”
“I know, it was just an accident, but see,” Hongjoong puts his hands up, “I’m fine.”
Yeosang just nods, “Can we go home?”
Hongjoong glances at Wooyoung as he says yes and goes to stand up, grateful that he does so without wobbling or feeling dizzy. Wooyoung has one backpack on each shoulder and when they exit the classroom, Hongjoong makes for the stairs but Wooyoung insists they take the elevator even though it’s only one floor. When they get outside the heat hits him like a ton of bricks and he only pauses for one step and Wooyoung is next to him, arm around his back.
“ I’m fine,” he insists, but Wooyoung doesn’t let go until they’re out and onto the sidewalk, making them cross the street to walk in the shade.
They’re walking slowly, Kyungmin and Yeosang out in front of them, half talking, half playing and it all finally dawns on Hongjoong that Wooyoung is actually right there and he’s acting like nothing happened and he can’t figure out why.
He looks over at him, “Not to sound ungrateful, but how–”
Wooyoung waves his hand, “I was walking past the main office with Kyungmin and I heard them say someone fainted and to call 911, and then they said it was Yeosang’s uncle , so I went upstairs.”
“Oh,” Hongjoong looks at the ground as they walk. “Thanks. I mean–yeah. Thank you.”
Wooyoung just hums in response.
“How long was I out for?”
“They said five minutes. I guess that’s a big deal.”
Hongjoong doesn’t know what else to say, so he says nothing, and the walk feels like it takes ages both because of how slow they’re walking and because of how awkward it feels. When they finally arrive to Hongjoong’s building he thinks he’s free but Yeosang turns around with the widest eyes and asks if Kyungmin can come upstairs and play and Hongjoong doesn’t have it in him to say no after what happened so he turns to look at Wooyoung who just nods, “For a little bit. Mom is coming to pick you up at six.”
And with that the kids are tearing into the building and hitting the elevator button and Wooyoung is following Hongjoong inside and he actually wishes he’d just faint again.
When they step inside Yeosang and Kyungmin have already kicked off their shoes and run into Yeosang’s room. San is standing in the living room, slightly confused, and then even more confused when Hongjoong walks inside with Wooyoung following him.
“Uh…”
“It’s a long story,” Hongjoong huffs, kicking off his shoes.
Wooyoung plops both backpacks on the floor, “Hongjoong fainted and I had to walk him home.”
“What? You fainted ?”
Hongjoong huffs, “For the hundredth time, I’m fine . I just wasn’t feeling well, and then I was late to pick up Yeosang and I was running and…”
“They called 911 and everything,” Wooyoung smirks.
San cocks an eyebrow and then turns to go back to the kitchen, “This is why I keep telling you to work out.”
Hongjoong rolls his eyes and feels a small something in his chest when he sees Wooyoung’s shoes back by the door. He makes for the couch, throwing himself down and then San is passing him a glass of water over the back of the seat. He expects Wooyoung to sit down next to him–he’s not sure why–but when he doesn’t, instead going into the kitchen with San and the twins, he’s surprised, and a little annoyed.
He can hear them talking, but can’t make out what’s being said, and he’s not sure if that’s on purpose or not. Finally he hears San, “Go give Hongjoong a hug,” and suddenly there’s two small bodies dog piling onto the couch and he spills the small amount of water left in his glass but he doesn’t care because he’s laughing and pulling them in for hugs and tickling their sides as he does, small giggles filling the room and Yunho presses a hand to Hongjoong’s forehead like he’s done to him a million times and asks, Sick? Hongjoong just smiles, “Yeah I’m a little sick.” And they both plop their heads onto his chest and whatever is going on in the kitchen becomes a second priority.
***
Hongjoong is in the shower for much longer than usual, taking the time to process everything that’s happened so far–it’s only 7pm and this day feels like it’s been a week long. He’s still reconciling with the fact that Wooyoung is again inside his home and that he somehow just happened to be there when Hongjoong was really, actually, in trouble. The reality is, he is scared. The medics gave him an all clear but he starts to worry that maybe something is really wrong, and he wonders what would have happened if Wooyoung wasn’t there. Would he have rushed out of the school? Maybe fainted again on the way home? What if it happens again when he’s home alone with the kids? He feels his heart rate start to increase and the ringing in his ears returns, the hot water suddenly becoming stifling. He reaches frantically and turns the knob all the way to the cold side, the water turning icy cold as he forces himself to stand under it and take deep breaths, repeating over and over again, You’re fine You’re fine You’re fine.
When he finally emerges again, San is packing up his things and Wooyoung is standing next to the couch–Kyungmin was picked up while Hongjoong was in the shower so now Yeosang is sitting on the couch staring at the TV.
San walks over to him and gives him one big squeeze of a hug, “Get some rest tonight, okay? Let me know if you need anything.”
Hongjoong nods, “Thanks, San."
He watches as San looks at Wooyoung, then back at him. He scowls a little in return. San smiles, “I told him to look out for you,” he points toward Wooyoung and Yeosang, and Hongjoong isn’t immediately sure who he means.
When the door shuts, the uneasy feeling returns to Hongjoong’s stomach so he moves toward the couch, taking up a spot next to Yeosang to stare at the TV. He genuinely has no idea what to do with Wooyoung–he doesn’t want to kick him out after how he helped him today, but the whole situation is so painfully awkward and he doesn’t know what the right thing to do or say is. He’s kind of shocked he’s even here still.
Without looking he hears Wooyoung making noise in the kitchen and it dawns on him– He’s making me dinner , and he doesn’t know why but he stands up and walks into the kitchen, no plan, no idea what to say, so he just stands there until Wooyoung notices him and then he just stands there , the two in a silent stalemate that seems to last forever.
“I told San I’d feed you and then leave. Don’t freak out,” Wooyoung mutters under shy, cautious eyes.
“I’m not freaking out.”
Wooyoung moves carefully back to the cutting board. “This is just as weird for me as it is for you,” he says it so quietly Hongjoong almost doesn’t hear him.
And again, Hongjoong just stands there, that achy feeling coming back to his chest as the rhythmic sound of the knife on the wooden board fills the kitchen, louder than his heartbeat.
Finally Hongjoong just mutters a Thank you and walks back to the couch to sit next to Yeosang. As soon as his back hits the cushion, Yeosang is wrapped around him in an uncharacteristically warm hug that takes Hongjoong by surprise, and it dawns on him how scary it must have been to see him pass out like that today.
Hongjoong taps him on the back, “Did you get scared today?” He feels Yeosang nod against his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Yeosang shrugs, then adds, “Is that what it looks like when someone dies?”
Hongjoong is taken aback by the question, sitting up a little but keeping his arm around Yeosang. He realizes he has no idea what it actually looked like when he fainted.
Hongjoong keeps his voice soft, “I don’t know. I’ve never seen someone die before. What did it look like?”
“Your face got all white and your eyes rolled back into your head like a zombie.”
“That sounds scary.”
“I thought you died too.”
And the too cuts through Hongjoong like a knife. He squeezes Yeosang a little tighter, “I’m okay, see,” He pinches Yeosang’s rib playfully, “I’m right here.”
Yeosang giggles a little then settles back around Hongjoong’s torso, “Wooyoung made me leave the room.”
“He did? That was smart.” Something catches in Hongjoong’s throat.
“I didn’t want to, but he said I should.”
“I think he was right.”
And they just sit there, watching TV together and Hongjoong feels the warmth of Yeosang’s affection and concern alongside the guilt of having put him through this whole ordeal in the first place simply because he couldn’t keep track of his time and his health. Some adult , he thinks. And he wonders if all the things he believed about himself are true, that he’s so bad at caring for himself that he can’t possibly take care of anyone else, and how maybe he’s just making this worse for everyone by insisting he can, and—the spiral is broken by Wooyoung carrying a large bowl to the dining table.
“Dinner’s ready,” he places the steaming bowl down as he asks if Yeosang wants any.
When Hongjoong sits at the table he sees the chicken soup from a can that he’s made a hundred times for the kids, but it’s been doctored by Wooyoung, more vegetables added, the color slightly different, and when he takes the first sip of it he wonders what exactly he did to make it so much better , and then Yeosang is chiming in, “This is way better than when you make it.”
Hongjoong rolls his eyes as Wooyoung giggles in the background, “It’s my special recipe. I make it for my brother when he’s sick.” Hongjoong doesn’t turn around, but hears the clinking of dishes and the sink running and knows that Wooyoung is cleaning up after himself.
Once the kitchen falls silent he turns to see Wooyoung wiping his hands on a towel, a covered pot remaining on the stove. Against his better judgment he asks, “Do you want to eat?”
Wooyoung just stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head, “No, I think I should get going.”
Hongjoong is about to respond but Yeosang beats him to it, “Going where?”
Wooyoung’s tone changes completely when he speaks directly to Yeosang, “Home, bud. You both should rest and go to bed.”
Yeosang’s expression becomes frantic. “You have to stay,” he begs.
Hongjoong rubs his shoulder, “Yeosangie, it’s okay. Wooyoung has to go home, he’s helped a lot today.”
Yeosang turns to him, eyes wide and wet, “What if you faint again?”
It punches Hongjoong square in the chest just because it’s so visceral, Yeosang’s fear, he can hear it in his voice. Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair and stands there, staring at the two of them. Hongjoong softens his voice as much as he possibly can, getting up to crouch in front of Yeosang’s chair, “I’m not going to faint again. The doctors at school said I’m okay.”
“But what if it happens again and no one is here to help you?”
And Hongjoong realizes that he’s not going to be able to reason with Yeosang’s anxiety. He hangs his head down for a second, but then Wooyoung finally speaks.
“I can stay, I’ll make sure he’s safe.”
Yeosang’s expression immediately relaxes, and Hongjoong realizes he’s again backed into a corner, and this time he can’t be mad about it. He stands up and turns to Wooyoung, then back to Yeosang, “Wooyoung can only stay for one night okay? After tonight he has to go home.”
Yeosang nods in response, continuing to eat his soup as Hongjoong sits back down in his seat, leaning his head on his fist in defeat.
***
Yeosang is in his pajamas and standing in the hallway, “Can I sleep in your bed?”
Hongjoong nods weakly, he’s lost every battle he’s fought today so he’s giving into everything from now on, exhausted and conquered by the will of everyone else around him.
He knows Yeosang is just scared, and he has every reason to be, so he does his best to remain patient and gentle with him, tucking him into the king sized bed and laying on his side waiting for him to fall asleep, but Yeosang has other plans.
“Where is Wooyoung?”
“He’s in the living room.”
“He has to stay in here.”
Hongjoong lifts his head up off the pillow, “What? Why?”
“How is he going to know if you faint again?”
And Hongjoong doesn’t have an answer for that, so he doesn’t stop Yeosang from getting out of the bed and running into the living room, returning with Wooyoung in tow, pulling him by the hand, a confused and slightly scared look on his face.
Yeosang crawls back into the middle of the bed and then pats the empty side, “You have to stay here all night.”
Wooyoung looks at Hongjoong, who feels like his head is about to split open from the onslaught of awkward and, at times, painful events from the day. He just nods, and Wooyoung slowly walks to the edge of the bed, then sits on top of the undisturbed part of the covers, back against the headboard, hands in his lap.
Hongjoong rolls onto his back and closes his eyes, resting one hand on his forehead and one hand on his chest. The three of them lay there silently for a long time, the two adults just hoping Yeosang will fall asleep quickly. When he appears to be knocked out, Wooyoung shifts slightly, moving his legs over the edge of the bed. Hongjoong opens one eye, then sits up on his elbows.
“If he wakes up and you’re not here he’s going to fully fucking freak out,” he says groggily, clearly fighting his own sleep.
Wooyoung sighs, “You need to rest.”
Hongjoong lays back down, “Tell me about it.” He rubs his hands over his face, “If you’re not here it’s just going to make him more upset and I’m going to lose more sleep. So, just stay. Please.”
The ease with which Hongjoong asks is significant, and it’s not lost on either of them. Hongjoong clenches his jaw and Wooyoung just kind of sits there , eyes fixed on him. Finally he gets up without moving the bed as much as he can, stepping quietly to the dresser and pulling out two pairs of shorts and two shirts. He tosses one set next to Wooyoung on the bed and takes his into the bathroom, silently closing the door.
He studies his face and he really does look like absolute garbage–eyes puffy with dark circles under them, cheeks flushed slightly because that fever hasn’t completely broken yet. He changes quickly and brushes his teeth, returning to find Wooyoung changed into his clothes. He approaches the edge of the bed when he hears a loud rumble from Wooyoung’s stomach.
“You didn’t eat dinner.”
“It’s okay.”
Hongjoong huffs, walking out of the room and into the kitchen. He searches the fridge for something easy to make for Wooyoung, something that doesn’t require any loud chewing, and he settles on two pieces of bread with lunch meat and one piece of lettuce that he rips haphazardly off the head stuffed in between. He tears a paper towel off the roll and carries it carefully back to the bedroom.
Wooyoung is sitting up again against the headboard. He holds the sandwich out to him. “Thanks,” Wooyoung takes it, lifting up the top piece of bread slightly to inspect the contents as Hongjoong walks back to his side of the bed, his eyes glued to Yeosang.
Hongjoong is always amazed at how deeply kids sleep. Once they’re out, any one of them could sleep through anything–he wishes he had that luxury. He’s staring at the ceiling when Wooyoung speaks, mouth full, “Did you start using your camera again?”
Hongjoong looks over across the room to where his camera is sitting on top of his bag on an accent chair. He nods, “Yeah, lots of pictures of the kids.”
Wooyoung hums, “I hope the film comes out nicely.”
Hongjoong turns onto his side to face Wooyoung across Yeosang’s sleeping body, “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Wooyoung tuts, “You fucking passed out today and you’re wondering why I’m being nice to you?” He shakes his head, “Trust me, you don’t make it easy.”
Hongjoong softens seeing Wooyoung here, cheeks stuffed with a shitty sandwich he made, hair still tied back, in his clothes, “You don’t have to, you know.”
Wooyoung gives him a side eye.
“You don’t have to be nice to me. I don’t deserve it after—”
“Just stop,” Wooyoung takes the final bite, folding the paper towel in half and putting it on the nightstand, chewing as he speaks, “I’ll leave in the morning and you can carry on with whatever it is you’re doing that’s making you pass out in public and scare your kids to death.”
Hongjoong pauses, then asks, “He was really scared?”
Wooyoung scoots to lie down on his back, “He was terrified. He kept asking Is he dead Is he dead and all the teachers were just fucking standing there when I walked in and none of them thought to take him out of the room.”
“I don’t blame them. I doubt anything like that has ever happened before, they were probably scared too.”
Wooyoung huffs, “There were two of them in there, one of them could have taken Yeosang out. That was my first instinct and it’s not even my job to take care of kids.”
“I guess.” Hongjoong turns to lie on his back again, listening to the gentle sounds of Yeosang breathing. Finally, he quietly adds, “I’m glad you were there.”
He looks over after Wooyoung doesn’t respond, he’s biting the corner of his mouth like he did when they had their last conversation. Hongjoong decides to not push it anymore, his gratitude conveyed effectively enough, and he’s sure as hard as this all is for him, it’s just as hard for Wooyoung. He adds, “I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow, he’ll feel better if I do.”
“What about you?”
“What?”
“Will you feel better?”
The anxiety of something being actually wrong starts to set in again. He’s sure it’s just a cold but this whole situation has brought to light just how fragile this all is, and he realizes that Yeosang is all too aware of it now too.
I thought you died too .
He tried so hard to keep everything running smoothly, kept pushing himself and all he managed to do was run it all into the ground. The lesson isn’t lost on him, but it’s bitter as he swallows it down.
He doesn’t realize Wooyoung is on his side leaning up on one elbow when he lets his tears fall silently down the sides of his face. The exhaustion finally settles in, something he’s been holding in since he woke up in that classroom, maybe even before that, breaks free and he doesn’t have the energy to stop it.
He reaches up to wipe them with the sides of his hands, opening his eyes to see Wooyoung staring at him. He feels raw, exposed. More so than the other times he’s been emotional in front of him, maybe because this time it really did feel like he needed Wooyoung at that moment. He stares back at him for another few seconds, eyes puffy and red, then he shakes his head, at what he’s not sure, but Wooyoug just stays there, unmoved, observing him.
He lets it go on a few more painful seconds, then he leans over and turns off the light.
Hongjoong stares nervously at his phone. The doctor told him it’d be a week for the blood tests to come back, and today is day seven. He’d been assured that it was just a respiratory infection that caused the fever, that the fainting was likely the effects of a string of very bad decisions on his part, but he asked for the tests just to be sure, realizing it had been over two years since he’d been in for a physical.
He had woken up the morning after everything happened, Wooyoung’s spot on the bed already empty, Yeosang sleeping quietly beside him, limbs stretched out in every direction. He checked his phone and it was only 6am, and he wondered what time Wooyoung had let himself out of the apartment, and for once he didn’t force himself to ignore the small pang that hit his stomach as he realized he was alone again.
Now he’s trying to distract himself, remind himself that he likely has nothing to worry about–he’s been feeling better the last few days, his head clear again and everything back in working order. San doted on him a little too hard here and there to the point that it made him uncomfortable, but Yeosang seemed content with the doctor’s note Hongjoong had asked him to write and he didn’t ask to sleep in his bed again after that first night.
He’s replying to an email at the dining table when his phone buzzes, he fumbles, picking it up to answer as quickly as he can, his heart racing.
“Hello?”
And with that– Your blood work is in and everything looks normal. Have a nice day– he breathes a massive sigh of relief and as he ends the call he feels San’s hand on his shoulder, “Good news?”
Hongjoong nods, “Finally.”
San pats him on his back and sits down at the table, a determined look on his face. Hongjoong eyes him suspiciously.
“We’re friends right?”
Hongjoong tilts his laptop screen partially closed, “If you’re quitting I will actually jump out the window, San.”
San laughs, “No, but this might be worse.”
Hongjoong sits back and crosses his arms over his chest, “What?”
“I just…I don’t know, maybe it’s not my place. But, you’re my friend. Maybe we’re even like family? So–”
“San, please,” Hongjoong sighs.
San sits up straight, “Okay. I think you should talk to your ex.” He winces slightly as he says it, observing the visible scowl that moves over Hongjoong’s face.
It lasts all of a second before he fixes himself, he wants to be open-minded, but he has a lot of questions about where this is even coming from. He keeps his voice calm, which seems to only scare San more, “Why do you think that?”
San swallows before speaking, “It just seems like you’re carrying so much of it still, and then when he was at your birthday party, the way you were looking at him—,” he scratches the side of his head, “I know it’s probably painful, but I think some closure or reconciliation, would just…help.”
“Help with what?”
San gives him a nervous side glance.
“If you’re about to say Wooyoung , this conversation is over.” Hongjoong closes his laptop and goes to stand up, but San gently grabs his arm. Hongjoong knows he could force him to sit down if he wanted to, so he gives in.
“He told me about how he stayed over, how you asked him to stay, and…everything else.”
Hongjoong rolls his eyes, “What, are you two best friends now or something?”
San shrugs, “We’re friends, yeah. But I’m not doing this for him. Didn’t it feel nice to have someone take care of you when you needed it?”
Hongjoong tightens his arms across his chest. He knows San won’t stay around forever to keep things running smoothly in his home. And he knows at some point the kids are going to grow up and move out, and then he will be back to being what he was three years ago–alone.
It’s the first time the thought has really settled at the front of his mind. He hates asking for help, but he didn’t ask for Wooyoung to stay around that day, not at first at least. And at any point he could have said no, told him to fuck off, and he would have been justified in doing so. But he didn’t.
San takes Hongjoong’s silence as a small victory, standing up before he can change his mind, he pats Hongjoong on the shoulder with a smile, “Just think about it, okay?”
***
He’s not sure how he expects this conversation to go–he regretted calling Seonghwa as soon as the ringtone started blaring through his speaker, but San agreed to stay late so he could go get dinner with his ex and try to figure out whatever the fuck it is San thinks he needs to figure out.
He accidentally arrives early, sitting alone at the table, head buried in his phone, when he hears the chair across from him slide back and he looks up to see him standing there, just as beautiful as he remembered, long dark hair framing his face and big sparkling eyes that look at him kindly–more kindly than he expected.
He stands up quickly, accidentally jostling the table as he does, silverware clinking as he steps to the side, unsure of whether or not to give him a hug, so he ends up just awkwardly holding his hands halfway up and smiling at him nervously. Seonghwa takes a step toward him, “You can hug me, Joong-ah.”
And Hongjoong awkwardly laughs as he gives Seonghwa a feather-light, ass-out hug that he cringes through before sitting back down. There’s a few seconds of uncomfortable silence before Hongjoong speaks, “Thank you for coming.”
Seonghwa smiles, “How could I resist a dinner invitation from you? It only took, what? Three years?”
Hongjoong coughs, “Four. But who’s counting.”
Seonghwa hums, picking up the menu. It’s a bizarre feeling, sitting across from someone you know so well but also don’t really know at all anymore. Hongjoong studies Seonghwa’s features–nothing has really changed, but he also feels like he can’t just whip out the small talk and make it seem like everything is completely normal, so he opts to just say nothing.
When they’ve both placed their orders, Seonghwa looks up at him, “So, is there a specific reason you reached out after all this time?”
Hongjoong takes a sip of his wine, “Kind of? I guess–I want to talk about things, but I don’t really know what or how–I just know there’s stuff we need to talk about.”
Seonghwa nods, looking down at the table, “Like why I left?”
“I mean, I know why –I think I do at least. But I guess we can start there.”
“Let’s start with why you think I left,” Seonghwa interlaces his fingers in front of his mouth, leaning forward on his elbows like he’s ready to eat up whatever nonsense Hongjoong is about to say.
Hongjoong takes another sip of wine, he’ll need it for this. “I didn’t prioritize you or our relationship. Even after you talked to me about it multiple times.”
Seonghwa bobs his head to the side, “Sure. It was a bit more nuanced than that, but sure.”
“How so?”
Seonghwa sits up, laying his hands flat on the table, “It wasn’t just that you skipped plans or were working all the time. You weren’t present even when you were there .” Hongjoong stares at him. “Do you know what that’s like, to have someone sitting right next to you but just staring at their phone or at their computer all the time? Nodding mindlessly at anything you say, waking up in the middle of the night to go sit on his computer so you wake up alone? It just felt like you were never there after a certain point. It wasn’t always like that and it killed me trying to figure out what I did to make things change. I didn’t leave because I hated you. I mean, I was mad at you for sure. But I was starting to hate myself .”
Hongjoong chews on that for a bit, he knows there’s nothing he can really say, but he didn’t ever really understand why Seonghwa left the way he did, so abruptly, so coldly, so completely out of character for him.
He thinks carefully before speaking, “It wasn’t you. I just–I wanted so badly to achieve something. I wanted to have more so I could make our life better, but I guess I was missing the forest for the trees. That how hard I worked wouldn’t matter if you weren’t there to share it with.” He takes a breath, “But I also had no idea how bad it was. I guess that’s on me, because looking back you definitely tried to tell me. But I guess–I don’t know. I don’t have an excuse. I’m just sorry that it got so bad, and that it made you feel like that. It was never that I didn’t want to be around you. You didn’t do anything.”
Seonghwa nods quietly, the waitress coming to place their plates down in front of them. When she leaves he looks back up at Hongjoong, reaching for a fork slowly, “To be fair, at some point I just stopped trying. I would just sit and stew on it in silence, telling myself that when you finally noticed, things would get better, but you never did.” Seonghwa pokes at his food, “Was it worth it at least? Working all the time like that?”
Hongjoong looks down at his food, his appetite gone. He decides to be honest in the gentlest way possible. “I hope this doesn’t sound horrible, but–yes. Knowing what I know now, how my life would change–yes. I couldn’t do what I’m doing now with the kids if I didn’t have this job and the salary I worked my ass off to get back then.”
Seonghwa nods. Hongjoong knows he’s practical, he won’t get overly emotional about his honestly, but it still stings a little to say out loud. He watches as Seonghwa takes a delicate bite of his food, chewing on it thoughtfully before looking up at him again, “Then I guess it all worked out how it was meant to.” His voice doesn’t have a hint of resentment in it. “I’ll admit I was surprised when I heard what you were doing."
“No one was more surprised than me. But it just felt like the right thing to do. And I guess I had something to prove.”
“And did you?”
“I think we have to wait and see. If they all make it to adulthood in one piece I guess I’ll know.”
Seonghwa smiles, “I think you should give yourself more credit, and sooner. Most people wouldn’t do what you did.”
Hongjoong shrugs, “People keep telling me that.”
The decision he made about his nephews feels like it was made ages ago, like he can’t even fathom his reality being anything else now. He lets the conversation rest for a bit, and he feels more comfortable with it now, more trusting that it won’t turn hostile or overly emotional. Eventually, he continues, “I don’t think I ever really processed you leaving. As crazy as it sounds, I just started working even more.”
Seonghwa smirks, “That doesn’t surprise me. But if there’s anything you want to say about it, now’s your chance.”
Hongjoong nods, trying to keep his voice even, “It wrecked me, Hwa. I guess because at the time it felt so sudden and unexpected? I realize how stupid and selfish that is now, but at the time, I was completely blindsided by you. And a week later the whole apartment was empty. It just–I don’t know. I totally shut down after that.”
“I mean, you weren’t the most open person to begin with. But I hope you know that wasn’t my goal–to ruin your life. I just had to prioritize my own happiness. At the time I really didn’t even think you’d miss me.”
“Well, I did. And I yeah, I mean–No–I didn’t think you were trying to ruin my life. But it’s been so long, and I think I’m still holding onto that pain. And–”
“You want to let go of it?”
Hongjoong leans his elbow on the table, propping up his cheek, “I guess so?”
Seonghwa smirks, “You’ve found a reason to let go, then?”
Hongjoong shakes his head, “I don’t know, I just know that this conversation is step one. But I’m scared that I haven’t changed at all.”
Seonghwa reaches across the table and covers Hongjoong’s hand with his own. It’s warm, familiar. “I want you to ask yourself if the Hongjoong I dated would even be sitting here having this conversation."
Hongjoong nods reluctantly, not sure how to respond to that, so he just says, “I just want you to know I’m sorry for how I treated you. And I don’t carry any resentment or anything about what happened. I mean–Not that I have the right to, but–”
“Relax, Joong-ah, I understand. I’ve been happy since we broke up. I don’t hate you. In fact, I would love to see you happy, too.”
And with that something wrenches free inside of Hongjoong, and he doesn’t know what comes next, but the first person that he thinks of when he leaves the restaurant, giving Seonghwa a firm hug this time, is Wooyoung.
***
When he gets home San is dozed off on the couch. He quietly removes his shoes and pads over to stand in front of him, gently kicking at his foot with his own.
San startles, eyes half open, groaning as he stretches his arms out, realizing Hongjoong is home and that means he has catching up to do. He sits up quickly, “What happened?”
Hongjoong throws himself down onto the couch, “We talked. And I feel better. So, thanks I guess.”
San huffs, “That’s it ?”
“Did you want me to record the conversation?” Hongjoong smiles, “We talked, and you were right. I needed closure. I told him I was sorry and he told me why he left.”
San nods, his face a little smug. “So now what?”
“I’ve been asking myself that since I left the restaurant,” Hongjoong sighs.
San studies him, then asks, “What do you want?”
Hongjoong thinks for a moment. He’s not sure what exactly he wants , this emotional freedom (if that’s what it is) is still brand new and he’s not sure what to make of it all. It all feels messy–not like a pile of shit messy, but more like, a suitcase after a long trip that’s filled with souvenirs that you have to find a place for once you get home. Things have been one way for so long and he has to figure out where he can make space for all the new things he wants to bring in.
He looks up at San, steeling himself as he finally makes the admission out loud, “I know I want to talk to Wooyoung. But, it still feels so big and scary.”
“I mean, you don’t have to marry him right this second. But, a talk might be a good first step.”
“It’s not going to be fun.”
San shakes his head, “He definitely won’t come quietly. But at least you know what to expect. He doesn’t hate you, I know that much for sure.”
Hongjoong eyes him, the realization hitting him, “Ya, what kind of mole are you? You don’t have any more insight than that ?”
San chuckles, “I’m not a mole! I just accidentally got stuck between the two of you. And trust me I wish I wasn’t.” He straightens his shirt as he sits up, leaning forward on his elbows, “I really try not to talk about you with him. But he still has feelings for you, I can tell.”
Hongjoong sighs, “Have you at least asked if he’s seeing anyone else?”
San shakes his head, “He’s not.”
“Well, at least there’s that.”
He glances over as San visibly struggles to keep his excitement in, a large smile carving his dimples deep into his cheeks. When he sees Hongjoong staring at him he straightens himself and clears his throat, “ Mmm– I think you should just be honest with him.”
He knows San is right, so he pulls out his phone and opens his messages with Wooyoung, but he pauses. He’s already pulled the We need to talk with Wooyoung, and this feels bigger, more important. So instead he opens his calendar app and sets a block of time for the entire second half of the day. He turns to San, “Can you pick up Yeosang from summer camp tomorrow?”
San nods enthusiastically, “I see more overtime in my future.”
Hongjoong is standing in front of Wooyoung’s building, the summer afternoon sun beating down on him as he hopes to make the final stop on his apology tour. He takes a deep breath and pulls out his phone, pressing the call button next to Wooyoung’s name. He’s been a shaky bundle of nerves since he made the decision to do this, every instinct he has is telling him to run, but he’s telling his instincts to shut the fuck up for once.
He’s not sure what he wants to achieve–it’s not his style to make big romantic gestures but he thinks if he can just tell Wooyoung everything, maybe there’s a chance that this could all work out He raises his phone to his ear as he stares up at the front of the building. It rings and rings and he thinks it’s about to go to voicemail when suddenly he hears Wooyoung’s voice.
Hello?
Hongjoong’s voice cracks as he tries to talk, he winces at himself but continues, “Hey. Uh–are you free right now? I’m outside.”
What? Like, outside my building?
“Yeah,” Hongjoong smiles nervously, using one hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “I thought we could go on a walk.”
The line is silent for a long time and Hongjoong is about to check if he’s been hung up on, but then Wooyoung utters a quick Hold on and hangs up. Hongjoong starts pacing nervously on the sidewalk, his anxiety growing more and more as time continues to pass. He’s not sure what exactly he’s going to say to Wooyoung, hoping that the right words will strike him when they need to, like they did with Seonghwa. He focuses on step one, Get Wooyoung outside.
Another five or so minutes pass and Hongjoong is checking his phone again when he hears the door of the building open and then there’s Wooyoung, standing in a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt, his hair pulled back and a pair of black sunglasses pushed back on his head. He takes the few steps over to Hongjoong, his expression unreadable.
Hongjoong’s chest swells a bit. It’s been weeks since he’s seen him, and the urge he has to hug him, kiss him, touch him, tells him he’s on the right path. But he knows he has to wait. So he does what he does best.
He looks him up and down over his sunglasses and giggles, “Is this your work-from-home outfit?”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “You called me out here to make fun of me?”
Hongjoong straightens a bit, the remnants of his smile still on his face, “No. I told you, I want to go on a walk.”
Wooyoung’s eyes are squinting in the sun and he’s got his pouty face on–it’s absolutely adorable. He whines, lifting a limp hand, “It’s hot.”
“Then we’ll walk slowly.”
Hongjoong turns to start moving down the sidewalk, step two of the plan is Get Wooyoung to walk and for a moment it seems like it might fail, but after a few seconds of thinking, Hongjoong now two steps ahead of him, Wooyoung decides to give in and follow him, making up the two steps quickly to walk by his side.
They’re both silent as they get to the end of the block and Wooyoung halts before crossing the street, he whines again, the sunglasses finally down over his eyes, “What’s going on?”
Hongjoong turns around, standing in the crosswalk, “Can you just follow me, please?”
And again Hongjoong continues and hopes that Wooyoung decides to follow him–he just wants to have this conversation somewhere pleasant, and when they finally make it to the edge of the park, he silently sighs in relief. He walks them over to the side still shaded by the buildings and slows his pace to a crawl. Wooyoung matches him but stays silent.
The park is quieter than he expected, especially given the weather. There’s only a few groups of people spread out on blankets, even fewer littering the benches they walk past. Hongjoong has been planning what he wants to say for hours, but his mind feels blank now. He can feel Wooyoung’s agitation growing, his gait becoming more and more lazy as they walk along the paved path. The park isn’t that big and soon he’ll run out of space to keep walking, and he’s been going in circles enough, he thinks.
He decides to just start.
“I’m not really good at this–”
Wooyoung sucks his teeth, “No kidding.”
Hongjoong rolls his eyes, “Just listen .” He places one hand over the camera hanging from his shoulder. He’s not sure why he decided to bring it, but he grabbed it last minute as he headed out the door–a habit now at this point. “I talked to my ex last ni–.”
Wooyoung stops walking and throws his hands up, then rips his sunglasses off and stares at him, “Hongjoong, what the fuck do you want? You dragged me out here to talk to me about your ex?”
Hongjoong stares at him under a pair of scrunched eyebrows, “If you’d let me finish a sentence then I’d be able to get to my point a lot faster.”
Wooyoung crosses his arms and cocks his hip to one side, refusing to walk any further. Hongjoong remembers what San said, He won’t come quietly and right now that’s feeling like a huge understatement. But Hongjoong knows he’s being tested, and he knows the reward if he passes will be worth it.
Hongjoong looks around and finds a bench in the shade to sit on just a few steps away. He sits and beckons Wooyoung over with a wave of his hand. He doesn’t move at first, just stares at Hongjoong and looks down at him, glowering for a few more seconds before finally giving in and sitting beside him. He makes sure to leave a hefty space between the two of them, where Hongjoong decides to place his camera carefully.
Wooyoung eyes the camera from the side, fidgeting with his Sunglasses in his lap, “Why’d you bring that?”
Hongjoong shrugs, “I don’t get to shoot in the late afternoon like this a lot. I just grabbed it in case. I kind of take it everywhere now.”
Wooyoung’s arms are still crossed as he looks forward across the path they were walking on, gnawing at the inside of his bottom lip.
Hongjoong decides to start from the beginning, a punishment for being interrupted so many times when he’s out here trying to bare his soul . He clears his throat then he begins, “I know I’m not good at this. But, I’ve been thinking a lot. And trying to be less of an asshole. After you and I argued and ended things I was miserable and I took it out on everyone around me. San and I had a fight.” Wooyoung doesn’t move. Hongjoong continues, speaking slowly, “It wasn’t a big deal but…he’s helped me realize a few things. And then I had dinner with Seonghwa last night. And it felt like I finally could close that chapter. And I realized where I went wrong, and got some questions answered.”
Wooyoung continues to stare straight ahead.
“I’ve been really unfair to you.” Wooyoung finally turns his head slightly, looking to the side at Hongjoong. “And everything you said about me is true. Everything.”
Hongjoong lets the silence hang in the air a bit, gives Wooyoung the space to think before he keeps throwing things at him. When he does speak his voice is barely audible, “Can you just say what you’re trying to say?”
Hongjoong nods, “After you left when I fainted I thought maybe no one had ever been as good to me as you had been that day. Especially after…everything. But then I thought about it and I realized people, including you, have been trying to be good to me for a long time, but I wasn’t willing to accept it, let alone return it. I don’t want to be like that.”
“So?”
“I think you saw me for what I was from the second we met, and for whatever reason that didn’t scare you off. And that terrified me. And you’re kind. And good. And honest. I didn’t want to drag you down into the shit with me.”
Wooyoung looks out across the walkway, shaking his head, “I don’t see shit when I look at you.”
“That’s kind of my point.”
“So now what?”
Hongjoong smirks, “Young-ah I can’t promise I’ll always get it right. And I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I want to try. If you’ll have me.”
Wooyoung’s eyes are fixed on his lap, “What about them?”
“The kids?” Wooyoung nods. “Yeosang actually was the first person to say I should apologize to you. He likes you. And the twins like everyone. I guess that’s more a question for you, because if you’re taking me on you’re taking them on too.”
Wooyoung crosses his arms on his chest, his eyes unmoving, “I feel like I’ve already proven myself there.”
Hongjoong smiles, “You have. More times than you needed to.”
“So, what, you want to date me?”
“I’ve spent so much time punishing myself, forcing myself to be alone because I thought it was what I deserved. You’ve made me painfully aware of how much that sucks. And I’m a mess and I know that, but I don’t want to shut you out anymore. The best I can do is try . Are you willing to let me do that?”
Wooyoung is silent for a long time, but then steadies himself, sitting up straight and putting his hands on his knees, his voice shakes as he asks, “Can you be more specific?”
Hongjoong smiles, “I want to be with you. I just need a little patience.”
Wooyoung sits there for minutes, staring out across the park. Finally, he looks over at Hongjoong over his shoulder, his eyes a light shade of pink that makes Hongjoong smile. He picks up his camera and scoots over so he can rub a hand up and down Wooyoung’s hunched back. “Now who’s crying?”
Wooyoung laughs and wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, “Shut up.”
He sits back and just looks at Hongjoong, who studies him for a few seconds, and again thinks about how nice the light is, then he realizes he finally has his camera on him when he moment strikes, and then he realizes, just maybe, it wasn’t the light at all this whole time. So he lifts his camera to his eye, snapping a photo as Wooyoung looks directly into the lens.