Archive of Our Own

Do you know that sinking feeling in your chest when you hear something you wish you could immediately unlearn? 

That feeling when it feels like your heart has dropped ten feet underground with no way to be saved.

Well, Jay’s afraid that for the first time in his twenty three years of existence, he’s experiencing it. But he never imagined it would hit him here, crammed inside the grimy stall of a rundown club, the flickering neon lights casting sickly hues against the stained walls. The stench of spilled alcohol and stale smoke clings to the air, laced with something sharper like drugs.

The shitty music hums in the distance and the banging on the stall doors from drunken bastards who needed to piss doesn’t help the ache.

He needs to go home.

Screw Jake for saying this place would clear his head—if anything, he walked in with a scattered mind and is leaving with a pounding migraine and a heart that feels like it’s barely holding on.

He can't breathe, can't feel anything but a throbbing feeling in his chest that threatens to swallow him whole.

Hitting the club on a Friday night to clear his head after a breakup seemed like a solid plan. Except the fact that said breakup happened nearly four months ago, and he should be over it by now, at least that’s what he’s been telling himself (and everybody around him.) But here he is, stuck in the bathroom while his ex is just outside, making out with some guy whose name Jay doesn’t even know.

He’s so fucked.

Why does he still care so much? 

He shouldn’t, not when Yang Jungwon made it clear he did not. He didn’t care that Jay was also going to show up to this specific club, he didn’t care to pay attention to the fact that everyone was watching him as he made out with some lousy second year.

It’s so stupid, Jay thinks as he runs a rough hand over his face. It’s so fucking pathetic how even after all these months, Yang Jungwon still has that hold over him. Like an invisible noose around his neck, suffocating him until his very core felt depleted of life.

A bitter laugh crawls up his throat. What was he even thinking? That Yang Jungwon would still care? No, if anything, Jay had completely forgotten just what Yang Jungwon is known for. Maybe, pretty blond hair and pink lips were enough to make him forget about Jungwon’s playboy persona. How he gets into and out of relationships like dipping his toes in water, how he changes them like he changes his damn outfits: quick, easy, and without a second thought. 

Looking back, it’s almost laughably cliché. The kind of setup you’d roll your eyes at in a movie—the friends warning him to stay away from the pretty boys with pretty eyes. The ones who smile like they’ve never broken a heart and lie like it’s second nature. 

Jake had warned him. Had told him stories about Jungwon, the boy who couldn’t hold down a relationship longer than a month. So when theirs made it past four, then five, Jay started to think maybe this time was different. Even the people at the university started talking. The same ones who used to whisper about Jungwon’s revolving door of flings were now murmuring about how he was still with Jay. The Yang Jungwon was finally serious about someone, those were what the rumors were. Jay had let himself believe it. Let himself hope. That’s why it hit so hard—when on the night of their sixth-month anniversary, Jungwon called him out for a walk at nearly one in the morning and ended it with nothing more than a barely audible, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ There was no fight, no tears. It was so quick, yet the impact was so strong that Jay still thinks about it to this day. The ending that came too calmly, like it had been rehearsed.

Jay should’ve known better. Hell, he did know better. He just didn’t want to believe it.  He was a damn fool for ever thinking the look in Jungwon’s eyes had been real. The way he used to melt under Jay’s touch, the way his gaze softened like Jay was the only thing that mattered—God, Jay had clung to that like it meant something. But Jungwon was a hell of an actor. And Jay? He was just the audience, an idiot was dumb enough to believe every scene.

He thought he was healing. Thought the long walks, the buried texts, the forced laughs with Jake and Sunghoon meant something. Healing isn’t linear, that’s what everyone says, but they just never warned him about the sudden drops. The sudden spirals. The pain that resurfaces like a bad habit. The sudden feeling of forgetting every bad thing that Jungwon has done simply because when it was good—it was good. 

He wants to forget. Wants to scrub the memory of Jungwon’s stupid gummy smile from his brain, erase every trace of him until he’s clean again.

But when he opens his eyes and sees the reflection of himself in the rusted metal of the stall door—eyes red-rimmed, jaw tight, chest caving in—he knows it’s not that easy.

Jay doesn’t know how he does it, but he manages to stumble out of the bathroom, eyes burning, hands trembling and all. He barely even acknowledges the random guy waiting, complaining about how long he took in the bathroom, as he feels his way down the hall. The shitty lighting doesn’t make it any better, if anything, it adds to his headache.

He needs to get out. Out of this shitty party, out of range from Yang Jungwon because even the thought that they are in the same room is enough to suffocate Jay.

Lights blur overhead—blue, pink, green, too much of everything. Tove Lo’s Habits blasts overhead. The bass thundering in his chest, syncing with his heartbeat, loud and out of rhythm. The crowd sways and stumbles, a wave of bodies he has no interest in swimming through. But he does it anyway, because he sees the exit sign glowing like salvation, and he needs out.

But then—

He sees them.

Jungwon. Still pressed against that guy, still kissing like it means nothing. And Jay fucking hates how every inch of his skin prickles. Hates how it feels like his body is on fire, heating up so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if he bursts into flames.

Jungwon’s eyes are closed, hand lazily curled around the guy’s neck. He looks surprisingly content.

Jay wants to scream.

Wants to walk up, say something, anything. Maybe even throw a punch, not at the guy (well maybe at him too), but at the universe. At himself. For still loving someone who moved on without looking back.

But he doesn’t. 

Instead he turns around, despite his lips quivering in a horrible attempt to control the lump that somehow went from lodging in his throat to pushing behind his eyes, forming something he doesn’t want to acknowledge. 

He knows he looks stupid. Stomping out the bar like a childish toddler being turned away, but that doesn’t matter because all he needs right now is air, fresh air.

When he steps out, the night’s unforgiving air bites his skin. It stings but it helps.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. A message from 

Jake:

u ok?

Jay stares at the screen.

Then types:

he was kissing someone else. i think i need to go home.

He doesn’t wait for a reply before shoving the phone back in his pocket and heading down the street. His heart is still breaking. But at least it’s breaking outside of that damn club.

“Jay!”

An all too familiar voice with a tang of an Australian accent cuts through the night air.

Neon lights and the sound of loud bass leaks out as Jake emerges from behind the charcoal colored door, the music sounds muffled from where Jay stands near the curb of the road in all of his misery.

The look on his best friend’s face is surprisingly void of that usual teasing grin that would never fail to get onto Jay’s last nerve. Instead, he looks quite solemn as he approaches the other male , expression looking complete out of place given where they were.

“You’re leaving,” the brown haired male states as if Jay disappearing wasn’t exactly what he needed to do.

“Well yes.” Jay lets out a humorless laugh as he stuffs his hands into his pocket.

Jake doesn’t laugh back, “You saw him?”

Fuck well, guess they’re addressing this now.

“Yeah,” Jay exhales quietly, as if saying it softer would lessen the ache.

Jake shifts his stance, like the cloud of gloom hanging above Jay’s head was heavy enough to dim even his own spirits.

“Was he actually-”

Jake didn’t need to finish that question before Jay cut in with a sharp, “yeah, he was.” 

The dark haired male rubs his eyes, rubs it dry of any lingering moist he so foolishly almost shed earlier, rubs it hard enough that he almost forgets about what he saw earlier—almost.

The brown haired male across from him opens his mouth to talk but Jay cuts him off again, "Don’t,”

He can almost feel Jake’s eyebrows raising, “Don’t what?”

“Do what you always try to do,” Jay huffs, he knows he’s being annoying and an absolute ass but it’s nothing his roommate hasn’t seen before.

“And what do I do?” Jake crosses his arm.

“The thing where you act like you’re not about to tell me something I don’t wanna hear.” 

Jake scoffs lightly, “I wasn’t-”

“Yes you were.” Jay cuts in harder this time.

“Stop cutting me off, dammit!” Jake glares.

A pause falls over them, one that tells Jay that Jake’s brain is running to spew out coaxing words that Jay’s gonna have to swallow down like pills being forced down his throat.

Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I just,” He hesitates. “I don’t get why you’re still letting him get to you like this.”

There it is. Exactly what Jay doesn’t want to hear. His friend has a knack of voicing all the thoughts that seem to consume Jay’s every waking hour.

“I’m not,” he says quickly. Too quickly.

Jake raises a brow but Jay looks away.

“Jay.”

“I said I’m not.”

“Then why are you out here looking like you just got your heart broken again?”

Jay’s hands tighten in his jacket, jaw clenched, he absolutely despises how easy he is to read. 

“It’s been nearly five months Jay, and I mean this in the nicest way possible but I swear we haven’t budged from square one.” Jake says earnestly, voice holding no judgment, just pure concern.

Why are you out here looking like you just got your heart broken again?

Because it does feel like that. Like it just happened. Like those past four months meant nothing. Like Jay has never left that spot under the lamppost where Yang Jungwon had torn his heart out of his chest and walked away without a glance back at the bloody trail of a bleeding heart he was leaving behind.

“I thought it was over.” Jay says after a couple seconds of silence, so quietly it was almost inaudible. “I thought I was over it.” He repeats, looking up, he sees the pity swimming in his friend’s eyes and he fucking hates it—how he’s become some object of pityness to everyone everyday since that breakup.

He lets out a shaky breath, staring down at the pavement like it might give him an answer.

“But then I saw him and it’s like,” he lets out a hollow laugh, “like nothing changed.”

He feels Jake step closer, he barely registers the arm his friend throws over his shoulder, knocking his head into Jay’s, he barely feels it over the next thought that formulates in his brain,

“…He looked fine,” he voices, blinking hardly as if it’d stop the warmness he feels forming in his eye, “Like completely fine.”

And that last sentence was when it really hit him: Yang Jungwon is fine without him. He is fine without Park Jay. He’s fine without their late night calls and walks around the river whenever he couldn’t fall asleep—dragging Jay with him despite it being 2 a.m. and it being freezing, but Jay never minded it. Never minded how the cold bit his cheeks and made him unable to feel his fingers because with Yang Jungwon he was warm.

He’s fine without Jay. That just might be the worst part.

Two days later finds Jay walking across campus, headphones in, Bon Jovi’s Always blasting, the vibes of the song contrasting sharply against the warm sunny day.

His backpack is slung low on his shoulder as he drags himself tiredly over to the physics building for his next lecture. He’s fine. Those are the words he’s ingrained into his brain. He’s fine. Whatever happened Friday night is now in the past. It’s done, it’s over, it’s finished.

Plus he’s got other things to worry about right now, like the midterm he has tomorrow along with the twenty clubs he’s enrolled himself into since that tragic night four months ago when he was desperate for anything to distract him. Maybe it was a good thing he did because he seriously can’t imagine wasting his brain’s energy on something as stupid as heartbreak.

He rounds the quad, the physics building just across from it, then freezes.

Because standing directly next to the bench just outside the entrance of the physics building is the one person he was praying to God he wouldn’t see.

He looks the same as he did all those months ago, when he was still Jay’s. When his face was one Jay had woken up to every morning. One Jay had memorized up to the small mole on his chin that only if someone were to get close enough, they’d see.

But someone did get close enough, he brain suddenly supplies, someone did get close enough. And that someone wasn’t him.

That thought in itself was enough to make Jay pull his cap further down his head, eyes looking straight ahead towards the entrance doors. As long as he made it in there, he’d be fine, he’d just pretend he never saw him.

He’s nearing the stairs up when he hears a sharp laugh, a familiar laugh that has his heart beating in a way he hasn’t felt in a while. Like a wild animal that has just been awoken.

Don’t look. He tells himself. It doesn’t matter what he’s laughing at, it doesn’t matter. But it kind of does because it’s not Jay’s jokes that he’s laughing at. At least, that’s the excuse Jay uses to glance over at the boy. Just a quick peek wouldn’t hurt would it?

He freezes. 

Because in that split second of him turning his head to glance and the familiar blond figure, Yang Jungwon looks up. 

The laughter that seemed to have lightened up the younger boy’s face earlier dies in his mouth. Their eyes meet and that familiar electrical charge pulses through him, in the back of his mind Jay wonders if Jungwon feels it too. He must’ve because Jay notices the way a small shiver runs through Jungwon—the way his hands shake so briefly no one would’ve noticed, but Jay did. It was Jungwon, of course he’d notice.

For a heartbeat, it felt like the quad disappeared, the people surrounding the quad disappeared and all Jay could feel was Jungwon. It feels like Déjà vu from all those times they’d catch each other across the room, except this feeling would usually be accompanied by a teasing raise of an eyebrow and flirtatious smile. Now it feels almost taunting, a memory of a life he could never go back to.

Jay doesn’t even realize he was frozen, his breath caught in his throat until someone accidentally bumps into him. He barely registers the person mumbling a rushed sorry!  Because in that moment he sees Jungwon step forward, as if he was coming towards him.

Reality comes crashing down, the thought of the object of his desires coming closer has him finding every excuse to get the fuck out of there.

He turns sharply on his heels, forcing himself to walk as calmly as he can up those stairs, it isn’t until he’s inside that he allows himself to look back. From behind the glass door he can see Jungwon is still where he was. Leaning against the bench, conversing with his friends again like nothing has happened.

Oh. Jay thinks. Did he imagine all of that? Maybe he did, it seems as though he can never think clearly when it comes to Jungwon nowadays. So with that, he heads down the hall, heart heavy but legs moving on autopilot. Because the world doesn’t stop for heartbreak.

It starts of quietly, so subtle that Jay would’ve thought he was going crazy if it wasn’t the fifth time this week that he has bumped into Kim Sunoo—a second year with chestnut brown hair and skin so pristine it looked like glass, and his most prominent characteristic: being Yang Jungwon’s roommate and best friend.

See, he would’ve just chalked it up to coincidence. It might’ve been a coincidence when Kim Sunoo wandered into the convenience store Jay had taken a part time job at on campus, half past midnight. His selection was nothing that raised Jay’s suspicions, just a bag of chips and a small tube of mint chocolate ice cream; it might’ve just been a late night run. The exchange was slightly awkward with Jay putting up his most professional poker face acting as if he hadn't seen Sunoo at his most vulnerable states before when he used to crash out over his relationship problems whenever Jay had stayed over at Jungwon’s dorm—as if he doesn’t remember all of the threats Sunoo used to make that if Jay ever dared to hurt Jungwon. It’s funny now. Hilariously so because looking at the way things have actually turned out, it feels like the exact opposite. 

The second time he catches Sunoo was at the library. He was busy reorganizing books some ignorant first year had tossed into the wrong section. It was his early morning shift as the library student assistant, so he hadn’t expected to see anyone around except for the studious kids wormed up in the corner of the first floor who probably spent the entire night there, but Kim Sunoo came strolling in. 

Strange. Jay remembered thinking. If he knew anything about Sunoo it’d be the fact that the boy would never be awake this early, let alone be at the library of all places. He remembers the days when the chestnut haired male would complain every time he was forced to come along with Jungwon and Jay to study for midterms. Yet here he is. Strange, Jay thought again but eventually let it go. A couple minutes past and he was in the middle of putting a book back onto its shelf when the very hairs on his back stood up. The feeling of being watched creeps over him. He looks up ever so slowly. And there from two shelves away was Sunoo, looking at him. The moment Jay catches his eye, the chestnut haired male turns away quickly.

 Jay’s stomach twists slightly, for a second he wonders if he imagined it, if his nerves were playing tricks on him, but the way Sunoo looked at him felt too deliberate, too precise to be just randomly catching someone’s eye. 

And so this happens again and again. Sunoo would randomly pop up at the strangest places—lounging in the corner of the dining hall with a cup of coffee just as Jay walked in, he’d sometimes catch him in passing as he transitions from one lecture building to another, even at the gym or library, Kim Sunoo would somehow always end up being there whenever Jay was. And each time, Jay’s chest tightened a little more, unease threaded through him. It was never anything overt, Sunoo never said much to him, he minded his business most of the time, if anything it just seemed like a coincidence each time but the timing was uncanny, too deliberate for him to just brush off. 

The fifth time he sees Sunoo is, well, right now.

 He’s back again at the convenience store, he’s been coming nearly every night now for the past couple days except this time he has a hood thrown over his head and a face mask. He doesn’t make eye contact with Jay as he beelines straight to the ice cream section. It was a particularly slow night, Jay hums boredly, looking over at the clock. A quarter to one. His shift would be over soon, and the thought of finally collapsing into his bed feels like heaven.

He glances up in time to see Sunoo rounding the corner, and this time Jay thinks it’s time to say something. Something subtle maybe, just enough to test the waters, to see how his relationship stands with him after everything that went down between him and Jungwon, because if anything he knows that Jake absolutely despises Jungwon for what he did to Jay. 

“Fifth late-night ice cream run this week, you’re really committed to these, huh Sunoo?” Jay flashes a lazy grin as he reaches his hand out to grab the ice cream sandwich in Sunoo’s hand. 

Sunoo pauses mid-reach. Hands seemingly frozen around the ice cream bar. Jay swallows, fuck was that the wrong thing to say? Okay, maybe he does hate Jay for everything that went down between him and his best friend. Still he smiles faintly, hoping it registers as casual and friendly. For a second, Sunoo doesn’t move and Jay might’ve even thought time stopped, he raised his eyebrow slightly. 

Jay doesn’t even realize that he was searching for his eyes until the other male slowly looks up, almost hesitantly. The hood tilts back slightly, enough for Jay to catch a glimpse of golden hair brushing the nape of the male’s neck. Strange, did Sunoo dye his hair? He could’ve sworn he just saw him earlier today and his hair was still that chestnut brown color—

Sunoo looks up, making direct eye contact and Jay’s heart drops six feet below the ground at the pair of hauntingly familiar cat-shaped eyes staring back at him.

Fuck. This is not Sunoo. And that is definitely not a mint choco ice cream in his hand.

“Hi.” 

One word. It only took one word to come out of Jungwon’s mouth for Jay to completely forget how to act. 

His fingers fumble over the scanner, nearly dropping it, as his brain scrambles for something—anything really—to say or do. And suddenly all the words and conversations he rehearsed in his head for this particular moment—the day they’d bump into each other again—vanishes like smoke. 

A couple things pass through his head in the long seconds he holds eye contact with Jungwon. The first one: why did you do that? Why’d you have to leave? The second: You’re here. You’re really here. Right in front of me after all these months. And then the third, the one that twists his stomach into thick knots: What the hell am I supposed to do now?

His heart is hammering so loud he’s sure Jungwon can hear it. He’s an absolute mess internally right now. He can’t seem to focus on anything but the male in front of him. All he can see is Jungwon. And despite the mask covering half of his face, Jay can see the slight crease in the corners of his eyes, the one that always appears when he has that familiar fond smile on his face—and some part of Jay pangs in disappointment that he isn’t able to see it. 

“Uh, hey.” Jay forces out, voice higher than intended. He clears his throat, hoping it somehow sounds casual, “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

Jungwon tilts his head slightly, golden hair brushing the collar of his sweater now that the hood has fallen completely off. “Yeah, I just, um wanted ice cream.” he supplies, looking down at the bar in his hand as if it wasn’t obvious. “Late night studying session,” he adds, making eye contact with Jay again, and some part of Jay can already picture the face he’s making under the mask.

“Right.” Jay swallows. His smile is weak as he bags Jungwon’s item for him. 

He hands it over, and his breath catches in the brief second he notices the twitch in Jungwon’s fingers as they brush against his while taking the bag. Their skin barely touches, and yet Jay can feel it, the hitch in Jungwon’s breath, the pause in his movement, like his body betrayed him for just a heartbeat. He’s nervous. 

And Jay? His own pulse is hammering like he’s being chased by a crazed animal. Despite the pain still aching in his chest, despite the fact that he should very well be hating Jungwon, Jay can’t help but feel the small spark in his ego at the fact that he can still make Jungwon nervous. 

But still, he holds his ground. Clearing his throat, even though it sounded awkward to his own ears, he says, “You should, uh, get back before it melts.” 

Jungwon lets out a small breath that almost sounds like a laugh, though it’s muffled behind his mask. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want that."

Another pause before he adds, “Thanks.”

Jay nods once, maybe a bit too quickly. “Anytime.”

He should go now, Jay thinks. But Yang Jungwon lingers for half a second longer, and he’s just looking at him. Expression unreadable but his eyes looked like he wanted to say something—like it was just on the tip of his tongue—but then he dips his head instead, “Goodnight, hyung.”

“Night.” Jay smiles tightly, his fingers squeezing the fabric of his pants tightly beneath the counter, trying to steady himself.

With one more nod, Jungwon turns around. 

The bell chimes and just like that, he’s gone.

“Oh my god he’s stalking you.” 

Thwack.

 The newspaper in his hands makes contact with Sunghoon’s head before he’s shoving the male over on the couch, making space for himself to sit down. 

“Stop saying nonsense.” Jay glares, earning himself a shove back from the male. 

They’re in the living room area of their shared apartment and it’s well past two a.m., but here they are. Assembled on the couch after Jay stumbled in after his shift—half dazed and half asleep, spilling to them everything from frequent run-ins with Kim Sunoo and what happened earlier that night. 

“It’s not like him to stalk. Jungwon doesn’t stalk anyone—with all of his exes he’s never cared enough to stick around, let alone keep tabs. Especially not with me.” Jay huffs.

Because it was true. During the time they were dating, there had been more than a few of Jungwon’s exes who tried to claw their way back into his attention, but Jungwon had never so much as blinked at it. 

He never looked back. He just moved on—a trait Jay had found himself envious of. Why couldn't he do the same?

“We can’t rule it out completely,” Sunghoon says again.

“Yes. We can.” Jay cuts in, sharper than he intends.

He doesn’t know why he’s so worked up over it. Maybe it’s easier this way—easier to believe that Jungwon would forget about it all, that he wouldn’t care anymore. Because then it would make sense. Then Jay can stay ordinary in the story. Just another lover, another relationship that didn’t work out. Not someone who almost became something more. Because the alternative was that Jungwon might have felt it too, at some point. That there was something real enough to scare him into leaving before it could become anything. 

That’s harder. Too hard of a pill for Jay to swallow. Because it could only have meant one thing, Jungwon couldn’t change for him and he was not someone Jungwon was willing to change for. 

“Why wouldn’t it be you?” Jake’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. 

“What?” Jay says.

“Just now,” Jake says quietly, ushering Sunghoon to scoot over. “You said he doesn’t keep tabs on his exes—especially not you. But why wouldn’t it be you?” 

“I’m not sure I get what you’re saying…” Jay begins,

“What I’m saying, Jay.” Jake clears his throat, “Is why would it not be you? You were his longest relationship. You were the one he actually let stay—let in. I’ve never seen Jungwon so–” 

Jay inhales sharply. “Jake.” He says, voice low. “Stop.” 

“Jay–” his friend begins, seemingly realizing he crossed a line. One that everyone knew not to tread along. It was dangerous territory. One Jay didn’t want to venture down tonight so he stands up, the sudden movement slightly jostling Sunghoon who’s been sitting quietly beside him. 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night.” He says, forcing a tight smile. 

“Jay-ah, he didn’t mean it.” Sunghoon tries quickly, like he can still pull him back from it.

But Jay’s already shaking his head.

“No,” he says softly but the sound is strained, “I know. It’s fine. I’m just tired. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” 

And with that he turns his back before either of them can say anything else.

He doesn’t stop walking even as Sunghoon’s voice whispers harshly into the night.

“You shouldn’t have said that!”

“Well I—” Jake starts, defensive, but the words blur as Jay steps out of the room.

The rest disappears behind the hallway door.

That night, Jay tries his best to sleep, but every time he closes his eyes, a familiar face slips into view. Eventually, he gives up trying altogether. It’s easier to stare into darkness than to keep seeing what won’t leave him alone.

But even in darkness, Jay swears he can still see him. He closes his eyes and for a slight moment, a memory flashes by.

Month 3

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Jay raises an eyebrow from where he’s standing, adjusting his tie in the mirror. “Do I have something on my face?”

Jungwon, sprawled across the bed behind him, props his chin on his hand and stares like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

“You look hot.” The blond haired male simply states, tilting his head to get a better angle.

Jay freezes.

For a second, his brain just stops working. He doesn’t think he’ll ever adjust to Jungwon’s bluntness.

“Jungwon. You can’t just stay stuff like that.” He stammers, coughing as he loosens his tie like it’s suddenly too tight.

Jungwon laughs at that. It’s starting to become a problem lately—he loves flustering Jay a little  too much. And Jay, every time, without fail is reduced to a pile of goo.

He’s still trying to recover when he suddenly feels a pair of arms wrap around his torso from behind. 

“Why can't I call my boyfriend hot?” Jungwon asks, voice muffled slightly against his back. 

Jay swallows thickly before turning around. 

He looks down at the male in his arms. Jungwon’s hair is a complete mess which was fair given he just woke up. They’d taken a nap together earlier but Jay had to get up for a social event his fraternity was hosting tonight. But despite it being a mess, Jay couldn’t help but compare it to the halo of an angel. He was wearing Jay’s oversized white shirt, cut at the neck making it slip from his shoulder slightly. Pale skin gleams under the bright lights of his room, tempting enough for Jay to dip his head low. 

He smirks slightly at the feel of the shiver that breaks across Jungwon's skin when his lips make contact with his shoulder. He deliberately keeps the contact there for a second too long before pulling away. 

His grin only widens at the dazed flushed look on Jungwon’s face. His eyes are glazed as he looks up at Jay. “Hyung..” His eyes fall slowly Jay’s lips and in that moment Park Jay knew he was a fucked man.

“Baby,” he breathes.

With the way Jungwon was fluttering his lashes up at him—Jay’s not even sure how he’s even properly standing up right now.

“Those glasses look really good on you.” Jungwon grins, the space between them getting smaller and smaller.

Ah. So that’s what it was. He completely forgot how crazy Jungwon gets whenever he puts on his glasses. He’s never failed to compliment him once on them. 

“And I really want to kiss you.” 

The words barely register in Jay’s brain before Jungwon surges forward, closing the space between them. Lips pressing against his in the roughest yet softest way. It’s clumsy at first, almost impatient, like he doesn’t quite know how to hold back. But then eventually it settles, and oh that’s when it becomes something else entirely. 

Because that’s how it’s always been with Jungwon. All edges and impulsiveness on the outside, he’ll do or say whatever comes to mind without a second thought—but when he actually touches Jay, there’s always something softer underneath. Something careful in the way his hand softens on his nape, the way his palm caresses Jay’s cheek, like he’s afraid Jay might disappear if he lets go too quickly. 

Jay exhales shakily against him, he’s a weak man after all. His hands hover for a second before they settle on Jungwon’s waist. He tastes like a feeling Jay can never put a finger on—but one he never wants to forget. 

When Jungwon finally pulls back, it’s only by a fraction, still close enough that their breaths still mix.

“You’re always doing that.” Jay murmurs against his lips, voice lit with quiet amusement.

Jungwon shifts slightly against his chest, now fully looking up at him with raised eyebrows, “Doing what?”

“Kissing me like I’m going to vanish when you open your eyes.” Jay grins, fingers slipping into the back of Jungwon’s hair like it's the easiest thing in the world.

Jungwon glares at him on instinct, “Whatever,” he huffs, but the way his arms tighten around Jay’s waist says otherwise.

That’s the thing about Jungwon. He never says what he means directly, but he always shows it. 

“I’m not going to disappear, you know?” Jay says softly after a beat, resting his chin lightly on Jungwon's head.

He doesn’t know why he says it. But he immediately feels a shift in the air. 

It just feels like something Jungwon needs to hear. Because Jungwon, for someone who always looks so certain—so in control, like he can take what he wants and never second-guess it—Jungwon never actually says what he needs out loud.

So Jay learned to read between the lines. Learned how to realize that when Jungwon says he’s tired, he doesn’t mean sleep—he means stay a little longer, stay with me a little longer and talk to me. When he says he doesn’t care, it usually means he cares too much. When he goes quiet, it’s never because he has nothing to say, but because there’s too much and he doesn’t know how to string his thoughts into something coherent but Jay understands—somehow he always understands. And when he acts like everything’s fine, that’s when Jay has learned to pay the most attention. 

For a moment, Jungwon doesn’t respond, and Jay tilts his head slightly, wondering if he’s drifted off to sleep against his chest. But Jungwon isn’t asleep. His cheek is still pressed against him, a warm buzzing. His eyes are open, fixed on nothing in particular, like his mind has drifted to a place where Jay can’t reach.

“But what if you do?” 

The words are so soft, Jay almost thinks he imagined them.

Something in his chest tightens, sharp and volatile. He pulls Jungwon back slightly, but not too far—never too far. “Jungwon..” He tries catching the younger one’s eye but he avoids it entirely. Choosing to look at the floor instead.

“Baby,” He tries again, 

This time, Jungwon turns his head away completely. Jay holds in the smile that threatens to play on his face despite the ache in his chest at Jungwon’s earlier words. Beautiful stubborn thing, he thinks. 

When Jungwon tries turning his head away again, Jay gently grabs his chin, guiding his face back towards him softly. 

“Yang Jungwon–”

But the moment their eyes meet, the words die in his throat.

Because Jungwon’s expression isn’t teasing or that playful anger anymore. It isn’t soft either but rather—scared. 

Something changes in the air, and Jay can feel it. Can notice it. He notices it in the way Jungwon’s shoulder goes a little tighter against his body. The way his gaze, which had been struggling to meet Jay’s, slips away again. 

“Hey,” he says again, even softer this time, thumb brushing over Jungwon’s jaw, like he’s trying to pull him back down, to ground him. “Jungwon, look at me.”

Jungwon doesn’t. 

Well, at least not immediately. But when he does, it’s brief, like he can’t hold it for too long. Like it doesn’t want Jay to look long enough to see him.  

Jay frowns slightly at that, “What’s going on in your head right now baby?”

He doesn’t answer for a beat, but his grip around Jay’s waist doesn’t loosen either. 

Jay opens his mouth again but the younger male suddenly looks up, eyes suddenly sharp. 

“How do you do it?” He asks suddenly. 

“Do what?” Jay’s eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Wear your heart on your sleeve—love like it can’t be lost, like it won’t leave.” Jungwon says, voice tightening. 

Jay exhales, so that’s what this is about. 

He doesn’t answer right away, instead his hands travel down Jungwon's wrist until it reaches his pulse point, tracing slow circles over it like he’s trying to anchor him.

“...because I think it’s still worth it,” Jay says after a moment. 

Jungwon doesn’t move, almost as if he’s frozen in his spot.

“To love and to stay, I mean,” he adds quietly. “Even if it doesn’t last. Even if it hurts later.” His thumb presses once, twice, deliberately. 

“I’d rather have it and lose it than never have it at all.”  

He looks up and notices the heavy look in Jungwon’s eyes, “But what if you change your mind?” 

“What do you mean baby?” He asks softly, earnestly.

Jungwon looks away, like the answer costs too much. “What if one day you wake up and realize what you have…isn’t something you want anymore? What if you realize they’re not worth staying for in the end?”

Jay frowns slightly to himself, like he’s trying to understand.

But he’s looking at the wrong part of the question.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling Jungwon back against his chest. “I’m not leaving, Jungwon.” 

And maybe—if Jay had just looked a little closer, listened a little harder—he would’ve understood what Jungwon was really asking.

He would’ve caught it. 

The question Jungwon never said out loud. 

Jay blinks, then groans. 

Bright light pours through his open blinds, filtering its rays over his sheets, spilling golden on his skin. 

For a second, he just lies there, staring up at the ceiling—disoriented, like his mind is still somewhere else.

Then it settles.

He hadn’t even realized he had fallen asleep. Blindly reaching for his phone, he grabs it off of the night stand. 

It’s a little past noon now, he stifles his yawn, squinting as he swipes up on his notification center. There’s a message from Jake, 

Jake 

Morning. I just wanted to apologize about last night. I stepped out of line and I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. 

Jay stares at it for a moment longer than necessary. Thumb hovering over the screen but his mind isn’t on the message anymore but on the reminder of what Jake said last night.

You were the one he actually let stay. The one he let in. 

He didn’t lie. He knew Jake was saying the truth but for some reason that truth hurt more than any.

He scrolls down a bit and there’s another message from Jake.

Jake

btw, you still on for the party at the house later tonight? 

Hoon’s gonna kill u if u don’t go

Now that gets Jay to scoff, because of course he texted that at eight a.m. in the morning. 

The frat’s throwing and his appearance is apparently required tonight, huffing he gets up wearily from his bed. Throwing on his baseball cap backwards in an attempt to hide the nest on his head, Jay walks over to the bathroom, still mindlessly scrolling.

Notifications and more notifications from the twenty different clubs he was in, one asking to bring extra banners for the dance club promotion event, one from the frat to bring drinks for tonight, one from Yang Jungwon with a bunch of typos—wait. 

Jay stops walking.

He blinks once.

Twice.

His thumb pauses mid-scroll. That name should not be there. He’s dreaming, he’s not awake yet—he rubs his eyes quickly, like it’ll somehow wake him up. But two rubs and one aching eye later the notification is still there.

Yang Jungwon 

myjaaeilimssu

gohdgodimssyusobaf

What the—

He squints at the screen, trying to make sense of the string of incoherent letters. It was sent at three a.m., hours after he saw Jungwon at the convenience store last night.

He couldn’t have been drinking, could he? He told Jay he was studying—or at least he thinks that’s what he said. 

But the most important part—what in the world is the message even trying to say?

Jay stares at it for a long time. Five minutes pass, maybe more, before anything starts to make sense, and even then it’s barely anything at all. The only clear thing he can pull out of the mess of letters is his name. Jae or Jay, close enough. And why is Jungwon sending this at three a.m.? 

And then, just as he’s about to give up trying to understand it, three small typing bubbles appear on his screen.

One minute passes.

Then two.

Then five.

Jay squints once more in confusion.

The typing bubbles appear—disappear—then appear again like hesitation made visible.

And just as he’s about to call it quits and power off his phone, a message finally comes in.

Yang Jungwon

Sorry that was an accident

I was a little tipsy last night 

please disregard it, wrong person.

Wrong person. Those two words echo louder than Jay liked. But it shouldn’t matter. Not anymore. Whoever Jungwon meant to text at three a.m., while drunk shouldn’t—doesn’t matter to Jay anymore. 

He taps the message once.

[JAY reacted with ‘thumbs-up’]

And then locks his phone. It was an accident and it was the wrong person.

The frat is as loud as it’ll ever be.

Music shakes through the walls, base heavy enough to blur conversations into vibration more than sound. People are everywhere, cups are littered about the couch and every surface possible. 

Jay tries to hold in the sigh as he walks in, it’s gonna be a long night. And quite frankly he wouldn’t be here if the others weren’t going to kick his ass for not showing up.

“Jay!” Right away multiple of the guys are on him—hands clapping his back, drinks shoved into his chest the moment he steps past the threshold.

He forces a grin, easy and almost automatic. “Hey guys.” He takes one of the drinks from Sunghoon who’s smirking at him. 

“Finally woke up huh?”

“Shut up.” Jay glares but there’s no real bite.

He takes a long sip from the cup. The burn hits his throat immediately, sharp and familiar in a way that makes him forget everything that’s transpired in the last twenty four hours for a second. 

For a moment, he lets himself lean into it. Into the noise, the swarm of warm bodies pressed into one another. The distraction he can afford for tonight. Because maybe tonight, it doesn’t have to mean anything. Maybe he can just forget.

Just for tonight. 

He’s tipsy.

A few cups in, Jay’s starting to feel it settling in his system, warm and slightly unsteady. His tolerance is usually better than this. But tonight feels different. 

Looser. Reckless in a way he doesn’t want to bother correcting. Right now, he doesn’t care if he’s fully steady or not. 

Someone’s dragging him to the dance floor, someone he vaguely knows—some sorority girl with a head of blonde and an easy smile. 

“Jay right?” she smiles over her shoulder as they settle into a familiar rhythm with the beat.

“Yeah.” Jay nods politely as she swings her body in his direction, a faint scent of her perfume wafts over him as she drapes her arms around his neck. 

She introduces herself but Jay can barely hear over the sound of the music blaring overhead, so he just smiles and nods.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come.” She smiles, a flirtatious curl on her lips as she leans in closer, “You never come to these events.”

A short laugh slips out of him because it’s true, he rarely shows up unless he’s forced to, “Yeah, I don’t really do parties.” 

“Really?” she tilts her head, feigning disappointment. “That’s kind of a shame. You look like you were made for them.”

Jay smirks at that, “You don’t say?”

The girl laughs softly. She looks at him like he’s something easy to each, something already halfway hers. And for a moment, it almost feels effortless, freeing to be reckless without worries for one night. 

Almost. 

Because then she leans in, her perfume getting stronger this time—sweet and heavy—and something about it makes Jay’s head feel slightly off balance.

The air around him suddenly feels too warm. 

He exhales quietly, blinking once as if that’ll clear it up. He looks up, hoping there would be some sort of air pocket he can breathe from—anything to calm down this sudden feeling of tightness,

And that’s when his eyes clash against a pair of eyes he knows too well.

Jungwon.

The music doesn’t stop. The light doesn't dim. And the girl in front of him is still leaned in, waiting—but none of that registers in his brain anymore. 

Jay doesn’t even realize he’s stopped smiling. 

Jungwon is near the edge of the crowd again, he’s alone this time. A single cup in his hand. His eyes widened slightly—like he didn’t expect Jay to look up—before his expression tightened. Something sharp and almost defensive in his gaze, like being noticed was a mistake, like he didn’t mean to be there at all. 

Neither of them look away, and Jay can feel his breathing go taut. 

“Jay?” the girls voice calls out, 

Jay looks down for a split second before he snaps his gaze back up again but in that split second it was enough for Jungwon’s expression to grow cold. Their eye contact snaps and Jungwon turns around. 

Before Jay can even make a move, he’s already walking away—back turned, a familiar sight for Jay.

He’s slipping into the crowd and then in another blink, he’s gone. 

“Jay?” the girl says again, Jay looks down almost rather annoyed now, but immediately regrets it when he sees the confusion in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asks, rubbing a gentle arm on his shoulder.

And suddenly it felt wrong—all of it felt wrong. He takes a step back, expression molding into something neutral, “Yeah, I’m fine. I have to go though, it was really nice meeting you.”  The smile he gives her is tight but his mind is scrambled as he walks away.

He barely even makes it over to the kitchen before he’s met with another surprise. 

“Hey, move over. Y'all can go make out somewhere else.” He shouts over the music at the two figures shoved up against the fridge, practically eating out of each other's faces. 

He goes to grab an empty cup from the stack beside them when they pull away. For a second Jay nearly drops the bottle of alcohol in his hand, but that doesn’t come as close to the way his jaw falls slack when he realizes just who they were.

“Hoon?” He squints his eye at the familiar figure but what shocks him before is the shorter male beside him, “Kim Sunoo?”

What the hell.

There was no way on earth his roommate was making out with his ex’s right hand man.

Sunoo has the decency to look a little sheepish while the Sunghoon simply grins at Jay.

“I see you finally untangled yourself from Sooha.” There’s a dangerous gleam in Sunghoon’s eye as he pats Jay on the shoulder twice, moving behind him to get a drink.

Jay whirls over, “who?”

Sunghoon cocks his head lazily towards the dance floor, “The blonde girl.” 

“Are you feeling her?” Sunghoon adds as he pours the liquor in his cup,

“What do you mean?” Jay exhales, Sunghoon should know better than to ask that given the conversation they just had last night.

But the dark haired male just shrugs, handing Sunoo the cup he was just pouring into, “it’s just, she’s been eyeing you all semester. Practically begged to get set up with you.” 

Jay raises an eyebrow, “Really?” 

He’s far from moved on but what’s the hurt in trying something new? He just seems pathetic now, being stuck on someone who clearly doesn’t want him anymore—someone who can walk away without so much of a blink back. Maybe, just this once he can attempt to move on.

“You wanna give her a chance?” Sunghoon nudges, noticing the way said blonde haired girl is now smiling at them from across the room.

Jay smiles back, brief. 

He tilts his head slightly as he watches her, she’s pretty—but that hair, the shade of blonde. It sits wrong in his chest, familiar in a way he doesn’t want to examine. 

“You’re into her aren’t ya? She looks like you’re type.” Sunghoon supplies and a part of Jay doesn’t know if he’s saying that because he’s drunk because she doesn’t look anything like his type.

The sound of a cup being crushed sounds loudly from behind them despite the loud music, catching all three of their attention.

Jay’s gaze snap towards it—

And his stomach drops. 

“Won?” Sunoo’s voice lifts a little too quickly, “I didn’t notice you were there!” He grins but there’s something tight in his expression as he swings an arm over his friend.

Fuck how long had Jungwon been standing there? 

Jay swallows thickly but can’t stop the way his eyes fall on the blond haired male—magnetic, inevitable. 

He’s not staring at Sunoo, or even Sunghoon—no, his eyes are zeroed in on Jay. That mask of pure measured coldness pinned on him long enough to make a shiver break down his spine. 

But after a couple more seconds of silence, Jungwon finally turns away, his attention now on Sunoo.

“Are you done? I want to go.” Jungwon says, voice low.

Sunoo blinks, thrown off by the abruptness. “Yeah—! I mean, we can, but…” He checks his phone, brows knitting. “Riki said he’d be here around one. He’s still twenty minutes out.”

Jay hears the blond male inhale sharply, like the idea already annoyed him. “Fine.” He mutters, choosing instead to snag a cup of liquor off of the table.

Sunghoon hums, leaning back against the counter. “Guess we’ll keep you company for the time being.” He winks specifically at Sunoo and Jay can’t help but roll his eyes.

“How kind of you.” Sunoo grins back.

No one really moves after that. The music keeps pounding. People keep brushing past them to get drinks and the party goes on. 

It’s Sunoo who tries to fill in the sudden silence again. 

“So,” he begins, glancing between them, “how were your guys nights going?” it sounds painfully forced but Jay’s gotta give it to him—there’s not much to say when you're stuck with two exes who can barely even look at each other for longer than thirty seconds and while one of them looks like he’s about ready to throw daggers at the other for reasons not specified. 

But Sunghoon, as always, is an idiot who doesn’t care about social cues or history because he goes on to say,

“Jay was just about to get set up for tomorrow,” he says casually, taking a sip from his cup.

Jay shoots him a look. “I was not–”

“With Sooha,” Sunghoon continues anyway, nodding toward the dance floor. “Since he finally decided to show up tonight.”

Sunoo perks slightly at that. 

Jay exhales, already tired from this entire conversation. “Can we not—”

“I mean, she’s been into you for a while dude,” Sunghoon shrugs, “Might as well give it a shot.”

A beat passes and it seems like Sunghoon just realized exactly who was standing across from them because he suddenly widens his eyes at Jay. 

Fucking idiot. Jay’s eyes seem to scream that at the male before it shifts the figure across the counter from them.

He doesn’t even have to look to feel it. Jungwon hasn’t said a word. Not one the entire time—he’s just standing there, a cup in his hand. He’s not looking at them but Jay knows his listening from the way his hands are now clenched on the cup.

Jay’s eyes flicker toward him and their eyes catch for a split second before Jungwon lifts the cup to his lips and downs it in one go. 

Too fast, Jay frowns. He chugged it down way too fast—then another cup appears in Jungwon’s hand not even a second later. 

Then another. 

Each one going down just as quickly. Yet not a single world has left his lips. He’s just drinking one cup after the other like he’s trying to outpace something.

“Hey,” Jay hears Sunoo murmur under his breath, nudging his friend lightly. “Slow down, Won.”

“I’m fine,” Jungwon replies flatly, brushing him off.

He doesn’t look fine. Jay’s grip tightens around his own cup at the sudden worriedness that takes over him. He knows Jungwon’s tolerance—or at least, he used to. And even still, this is too much, way too much. 

If he takes one more sip he’ll definitely—

Jungwon suddenly stiffens. It isn’t obvious but Jay can see it in the way his pinky twitches around the cup. Then there’s a slight sway in his step before hand comes up to his mouth. 

Immediately as if on instinct, Jay steps forwards, “Jungwon–”

But it’s too late, Jungwon’s pushing past them and barreling down the hallway to the bathroom under the stairs. 

“Shit.” Sunoo curses, already moving after him. Sunghoon and Jay close on his tail. 

They barely make it to the bathroom before the sound hits. Jay pushes past the swarm of bodies to get inside the bathroom where he can see Jungwon hunched over the toilet seat, eyes shut, wincing and Jay knows it's because he hates the frat’s bathrooms let alone even throwing up in the toilet seats. 

Jay’s eyes squeeze shut for a second in pity as he pushes Sunghoon out of the way. 

Sunoo, crouching beside the poor boy, winces too at the sight, “Hey, hey, breathe, you’re okay.”

“He drank too fast.” Sunghoon says from beside him.

“No shit.” Jay snaps, watching as Sunoo rubs Jungwon’s back gently. 

The younger one doesn’t respond, his eyes are shut and his cheeks are flushed—either from embarrassment or sickness, Jay doesn’t know but what he does know is that Jungwon really hates being in this position. 

“What’s wrong, Won?” Sunoo asks again once he notices the blond male wincing again, hands barely able to hold onto the toilet seat.

Jungwon looks like he wants to say something but can’t seem to get it out without gagging. 

“The toilet.” Jay suddenly says, moving closer.

“What?” Sunoo asks, confused.

“He—he doesn’t…” Jay trails off, already reaching forward.

He grabs a fistful of paper towels from the counter, wetting them quickly under the sink. 

“He hates public bathrooms, specifically these.” he mutters, more to himself.

Sunoo blinks, “Oh.”

Jay crouches besides them, ignoring the way Jungwon practically tenses at the slight brush of their shoulders.

“Hey,” Jay says quietly, “move back a bit, hm?”

Jungwon doesn’t respond right away. He’s still gripping the edge of the toilet—barely, not wanting his fingers to even touch the rim. 

Jay clicks his tongue softly. “Come on, Jungwon.”

Carefully, he shifts Jungwon back just enough, one hand steady at his shoulder while the other presses the damp paper towel into his palm.

 “Use this.” Jay helps place the towel beneath Jungwon’s palm, directly on the toilet seat so he’s not directly touching it. 

Jungwon’s fingers twitch around it, delayed but still obedient to what Jay was saying. But that was when another wave hit him almost immediately. His other hand, the one not gripping onto the paper, finds its way to Jay’s bicep. He squeezes hard enough to hurt—enough to anchor himself.

Jay stills for half a second. 

But then Jungwon winces again, a bit more painfully this time, enough to break Jay out of his temporary daze. 

“You’re okay.” he whispers, shifting a little closer just enough for only Jungwon to hear. 

Jungwon folds forward again, grip tightening instinctively like Jay is the only steady thing in the crammed space they were in.

Something in Jay’s chest squeezes at the sight of him being in so much pain, knowing he can’t do anything but watch. His free hand comes up to steady Jungwon’s shoulder, thumb pressing lightly into the space between his neck and shoulder blade—rubbing slow circles to ground him. 

“Riki’s here.” Jay faintly hears Sunghoon's voice coming up from behind him.

Sunoo curses under his breath, “Now?”

“He’s double parked,” Sunghoon adds. “Said he can’t stay long.”

Sunoo looks between Jungwon and the door, torn. “Won, do you think you could make it back to the apartment? We can bring you a plastic bag if you feel like throwing up in the car.”

Jungwon looks up, and Jay immediately notices the red rimming his eyes. He barely manages a nod but it’s enough for Sunoo. “Okay—okay, let’s get you up first.” 

Between the three of them, they manage to get Jungwon on his feet. He sways almost immediately, his grip becoming tight around Jay’s arm again. His entire body is now pressed against Jay’s side—fingers curling in like it’s instinct. As if something his body remembers before his mind can catch up.

And for a second, Jay feels it.

The familiarity. It was dangerous, how easy it was to fall back into this. 

Jay steadies him without even thinking. His arm wrapped around Jungwon’s shoulder as they shuffled their way out of the bathroom. 

“Easy,” he says, leaning in closer, voice low near his ear. “Keep your head down. The lights’ll make it worse.” 

The walk out is nothing but easy. The house seems to have gotten even more packed in the time they were occupied. There were people everywhere, but Jay persisted, pushing and cursing at anyone that came too close. 

Jungwon stumbles more than once, and each time, Jay’s hand is already there, firm against his shoulder, at his waist—wherever he needs to keep him upright. 

The cool night air hits them the second they step out. Jay hears Jungwon inhale sharply, like he can finally breathe again.

“Riki!” Sunghoon calls out, scanning the street.

A beat and then the sound of a motorcycle engine hums to life at the curb.

Jay blinks at the sight of the familiar red bike in front of them.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

Riki pulls off his helmet, grinning, “What?”

Sunoo stares, “You came on that?!”

Riki shrugs. “Yeah? I knew parking was gonna be a nightmare.”

A pause before his gaze shifts.

“Oh.” He finally notices Jungwon.

Jungwon who is still pressed completely into Jay's side. Jay doesn’t know when or how but the younger male’s arms were now wrapped completely around his torso, holding on like balance isn’t something he can manage on his own anymore. 

His cheeks mushed against Jay’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded, unfocused. He was practically folded into him. 

Jay stiffens for a half a second, noticing how all three of them—in sync—noticed the position the two were in. 

“...Yeah,” Sunoo mutters, staring between them and the motorcycle, “Absolutely, not.”

Jungwon, surprisingly, lets out a weak breathy laugh, as if even entertaining the idea was ridiculous.  

 Sunghoon runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, yeah, that’s not happening.”

Another beat of silence save for the sounds of sirens faintly humming in the night. The problem settled over them quickly.

“I’ll drive.” The words come out before Jay fully thinks them through.

Three heads turn toward him. 

Jay shifts Jungwon’s weight slightly, steadying him more securely against his side.

“I’m fine,” he adds, already reaching for his keys. “I didn’t drink that much.”

(It’s not entirely true but it's been a bit over an hour and the buzz is gone now. Replaced by a sharp focus—ever since Jungwon stepped into the scene, he sobered up real quick.)

“I’ll take him.” 

Sunoo hesitates. “Are you sure?”

All three of them are looking at him–no, at the both of them–like this is a bad idea. And maybe, maybe it is. 

“Won?” Sunoo looks at his friend, eyes soft. 

Jay can’t see Jungwon’s face, not with the way it’s tucked into his shoulder, but whatever was written on it was an answer for Sunoo because the male stills, something passes over his expression—quick from conflicted to something akin to a soft helpless understanding. Like he knows this is already out of his hands. 

“Okay.” He says finally, rubbing his friend’s arm softly before stepping back to look at Jay, "Get there safe. Don’t speed.”

Jay smiles tightly and nods once, “Got it.” He bids the other two goodbye before turning Jungwon’s body—with his—“Alright,” he murmurs under his breath, guiding him toward the street. “Let’s go.” 

From down the street, Kim Sunoo, Park Sunghoon, and Riki watch the two retreating figures.

“...,” Sunoo starts, then stops.

Sunghoon looks away first.

Riki lingers a second longer before turning on his heel.

No one says what they’re thinking but the atmosphere is familiar. The familiar in the way hands are tangled in sleeves, bodies too close to be nothing more, someone always watching, someone always there. And for a moment, it feels like they’re not watching something new at all.

But rather, something they’ve already seen before. 

This feels familiar. Way too familiar, Jay thinks. The car is heating up and Jungwon is curled into his passenger seat—the place he’s always occupied, his brain supplies—huddled up with his knees pulled to his chest.

“Your seatbelt,” Jay says, noticing how the younger one has become almost rigid in his seat.

Jungwon doesn’t even look up—doesn’t move, rather he curls in even further into himself.

“Jungwon ah,” Jay tries again, softer this time, amusement flickering in his voice despite himself. It’s hard not to when Jungwon looks exactly the same. 

He’s still as stubborn as ever, 

“You’ve got to put your seatbelt on b—”

He stops. The words almost slip out before he can catch it. Baby. He nearly just said that. A horrible habit, an old muscle memory wrapped in something that used to be effortless. A name that came without a second thought. Fuck, he almost screwed it up.

Or maybe he did actually screw it up because the sudden cut off gets Jungwon to look up. As if he felt it too what Jay didn’t say.

There’s recognition in his eyes, a gaze so familiar it makes goosebumps break across Jay’s skin. 

Jungwon holds his eye for a beat too long before he quickly looks away, like he’s just been burned. 

There’s a flush on his cheeks, it’s subtle under the dim lighting but real enough to make the entire air in the car shift. Jay clears his throat, forcing his hands to settle back on the wheel.

“Seatbelt,” he says again, somehow even quieter this time like it felt wrong.

This time, Jungwon listens, he moves slowly and almost mechanically, pulling the strap across his chest. 

The rest of the ride is quiet. The air is thick with enough tension that a knife could cut it. The grip Jay has on the wheel doesn’t loosen even as they neared Jungwon’s apartment—and a part of Jay ignores the part of his brain that says: You still remember his apartment, you still remember the way back even without a map. He just hopes Jungwon doesn’t notice it.

But when he dares a glance over, he’s taken aback by the sight of the male knocked out. His knees are still pulled up to his chest, but his head has slumped against his own shoulder, body angled unconsciously toward Jay. Curled in, facing him without even realizing it. 

His eyes are shut, hair falling softly over his nose, his breathing slow and even now, like the fight to stay awake finally gave up.

For a moment, the memories come flooding back. The mornings where Jay would wake up to this exact sight of Jungwon asleep beside him after long nights of studying and late night mukbangs.

 Somewhere in his chest, something tightens at the bittersweet memory. Despite it, he stays. In this moment—like he can steal it and keep it somewhere safe in his mind, tucked away where time is frozen. 

Because he doesn’t know when he’ll see this again. Or if he’ll ever see it again.

When they do arrive at Jungwon’s apartment though, Jay is torn. It’s nearly three a.m, and Jungwon can’t stay sleeping in the car like this. But he looks so peaceful. And some part of Jay doesn’t have the heart to wake him up.

So he steps out of the car, opening up the passenger seat. He scans the scene for a second, calculating exactly how he was gonna get Jungwon out without waking him up but it seems as though the cold night’s air was enough to wake the younger male up. 

Slowly, he blinks wearily up at Jay. Eyelids heavy and disoriented. The streetlight above the car blurs into a soft glow, illuminating Jay’s silhouette that stands in front of him. And the sight itself is so familiar that his body reacts before his mind does.

His finger twitches, reaching out of pure instinct and that’s all it takes for Jay to give in. He bends down enough to help him out of the car. Jungwon’s fingers catch the fabric of Jay’s sleeve before he’s staggering out of the car.

“‘S cold,” Jungwon mumbles, barely audible, his voice rough with sleep and lingering drunkenness.  

Jay doesn’t even realize he’s already shrugging off his sweater. He blinks once, then steps closer and drapes it over Jungwon’s shoulder. “Yeah, I know. Let’s go in before it gets colder, hm?” he says softly, nudging him forward.

Jungwon merely nods before following suit. 

They barely make it inside before they’re greeted with another problem that comes in the form of a huge red cone in front of the only elevator in the building: out of service. 

Jay exhales sharply through his nose.

Of course. Of course this had to happen tonight of all nights. 

He looks up at the stairs, then back at Jungwon who looks like he’s two seconds from falling asleep again. 

“Alright,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, “Stairs it is.”

He makes it to the bottom of the staircase before he feels a sheepish tug at his arm. 

He turns around and the sight itself is devastation in human form. Jungwon is still standing there, swaying slightly, swallowed up by Jay’s jacket—one that’s too big for him (then again, Jay’s clothes were always too big for him) swallowing his entire hand up, giving him bear paws. 

Giving Jungwon his sweater was a mistake—the sight alone is almost unfair.

“I don’t know if I can…” Jungwon says quietly, almost embarrassed, his gaze dropping to the stairs like they’ve suddenly become a lot steeper than they were a minute ago.

And that’s when it clicks. Right. To make matters worse, he lives on the eleventh floor.

So logically, Jay can only think of one thing.

He gives Jungwon a quick look, then without another word he drops down onto his knees.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Jungwon’s voice is close. Too close.

Jay swears he can feel a phantom of a breath brushing the shell of his ear.

“Yeah,” Jay says quickly, adjusting his grip under Jungwon’s legs as he hauls him higher on his back.

Jungwon knows better than to argue, not with the way Jay’s eyebrows are fixed, determined. They make it somehow to the ninth floor, on sheer strength and stubbornness alone because Park Jay will not cower to a few flights of stairs.

By the time they reach the eleventh floor, Jay is praying to every god he can think of that his knees hold out long enough to get them through this in one piece.

And, more importantly, that he still has enough dignity left to set Jungwon down without collapsing immediately after.

By pure luck or God’s grace, he manages to gently put Jungwon down without his legs giving out completely.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jungwon asks again, voice still rough, but more awake now. 

Jay exhales, straightening up like nothing just happened. “Yeah,” he says quickly. “That was nothing.”

What he doesn’t notice though—too focused on catching his breath—is the faint curve of Jungwon’s lips. 

He looks up just in time to see Jungwon whirl around—and in that sudden movement, he nearly loses his balance.

Jungwon’s mouth opens to exclaim but it never comes because Jay’s moving on instinct, catching him by the arm before he can fully topple over.

“Woah, easy.” Jay steadies him.

“Sorry,” the younger one mumbles, but he doesn’t let go. “I’m a little dizzy.” 

Jay frowns, concern creasing his brows. “Okay,” he says softly. “Let’s just get you inside."

He keeps a steady hand on Jungwon’s arm as they move down the hall together. When they reach the door, Jay hesitates for a second in front of the keypad. His hand hovers before he moves aside, surely Jungwon’s not too out of it to forget his apartment code right?

But when he looks over, Jungwon’s looking at him already. His expression is tired, unreadable but there’s something in it Jay can’t put his finger on.

“It’s still the same,” Jungwon says quietly.

Oh. 

Now, Jay wasn’t expecting that. 

He doesn’t quite know how to react to that. But he pushes it aside, choosing to punch in the code instead of the thoughts blaring in his head, the loudest one being the fact that the code that Jungwon hasn’t changed—is the day they got together.

His hands are near shaking when the door clicks open. He barely feels Jungwon nudging past him, just enough to get them both inside. 

The door shuts behind them and suddenly it’s too quiet in contrast to the thoughts running rampant in Jay’s head—to the implications behind Jungwon’s words.

The said male is quiet, too quiet, it makes Jay turn over. 

Jungwon’s kicking off his shoes, one hand on the wall to steady himself now that Jay has let go, but Jay can still see the slight wobble in his step.

Despite the mess in his head, Jay still manages to step forward, “Go sit down, you’re not steady yet.” 

But Jungwon doesn’t move, “I’m fine,” he says, voice filled with that stubbornness that Jay still loves more than hates.

He’s still standing here, a mere foot away from Jay, by the door as if he didn’t want to step past the threshold into the rest of his apartment. 

Jay exhales softly. “Jungwon.”

At his name, Jungwon finally looks at him. And for a second—in that split moment, Jay sees it. The unguarded look on Jungwon’s face. The way his eyes seem to lose the harshness he’s always carrying, the way his features seem to soften under the moonlight that pours across the hall. 

But what comes out of Jungwon’s mouth next is nothing Jay expected.

“Are you going to leave?” 

There’s something in his eyes. A question without words—one Jay doesn’t understand yet, but one he desperately wants to. 

What is it that you’re asking, Yang Jungwon? Jay’s gaze holds him, searching. What is it you’re afraid of?  Why do you let me see this much of you, only to push me away the moment I try to reach it?

“I’ll leave if you want me to.” Jay says slowly.

Something in Jungwon’s expression shifts, there’s a sudden flicker in his eyes. It’s an unspoken thing, but Jay knows damn well they both know this wasn’t about leaving just the apartment anymore.  For a second, it looks like he’s going to say something. Like he’ll finally tell Jay to stay—to not leave. That the past five months of agony he felt would eventually mean something all this time. 

But Jungwon just stays quiet. 

Of course. 

Despite himself, Jay still manages to smile, biting down the bitterness that crawls up his throat at the sight of Jungwon standing so close yet he feels farther than ever. 

What was he expecting? That The Yang Jungwon was going to change for him? No, if anything, Jungwon has proved it not once but now twice that Park Jay was not someone worth changing for. 

His hand is ready on the door knob, already twisting it when he hears it.

“I didn’t say I wanted you to leave,” Jungwon’s voice is quiet, almost swallowed by the space between them.

His brain tells him to ignore it, to walk out of the door and forget this entire night even happened but the stupid creature in his chest says otherwise—it grounds him, pulling hard enough to root him in his spot.

Turning rather sharply, his eyes meet a pair of feline ones.

“What was that?” he asks, quiet but sharper now. 

Jungwon swallows. Jay can practically see the way his throat constricts, his eyes are surprisingly red rimmed but Jay refuses to soften for it despite the ache—not tonight.

“No,” Jay says, firmer. “Say it again.”

Jungwon holds his gaze. His lips pursed tightly, trembling slightly like he’s holding himself back. And that’s it. 

Something in Jay snaps cleanly. The rope cutting without any strings left to salvage it. 

He lets out a short, disbelieving breath, tightening his grip on the doorknob.

“Goodnight, Jungwon.” He smiles flatly, emptily, the words tasting like ash on his tongue. “I can’t keep doing this.” he adds a bit quieter.

His grip on the door loosens on the door. And it’s not because he’s calmer, but rather because he’s just tired. Tired of it all. Of reaching for something that doesn’t want to stay. Slipping out of his grasp the moment he gets close enough to feel it. 

The door cracks slightly and Jay has to clench his jaw tightly to stop the burning creeping up his neck, the sting behind his eye.

He doesn’t turn back again when he pulls the door open just a slight bit wider—the bright yellow light from the outside hallway pours into the room, a harsh contrast to the pale moonlight coloring the walls.

That’s when he hears it. 

The slight hitch in a breath before it comes,

“I’m sorry.” 

Jay doesn’t turn around. 

But Jungwon continues, “Jay, I’m so sorry.” 

And Jay doesn’t need to look to know. To know that this isn’t neat—isn’t normal. Not anything like the usual version of him.

Because Jungwon doesn’t apologize. Never has, not really, Jay is the one who usually says sorry first during their relationship—even when it’s not his fault, even when they barely argue at all.

Because Yang Jungwon built something around his pride—something unshakable. He doesn’t fall apart. He doesn’t bend to anyone’s will. He doesn’t beg. At least, he didn’t. But this—it’s different. And for a second, Jay wonders if this is the first time Jungwon has ever let it go.

The first time he’s let himself be seen without it. 

Behind him, Jungwon’s voice breaks slightly, quieter now, less steady like the words are clawing their way out of him. “I’m sorry,” he says again, “For everything.” a pause before his voice wavers again, but he doesn’t stop.

“For how I was with you. For how I was during our entire relationship.” 

Jay’s grip tightens slightly at his side, but he still doesn’t turn. 

“I didn’t know how to,” Jungwon swallows, like the words themselves hurt, “I didn’t know how to be loved properly. Or how to keep it.” 

The silence stretches, and when he realizes Jay wasn’t going to say anything, he says again, in a much softer tone that borderlines heartbreaking honesty, 

“I,” a sharp inhale, 

“I think I kept waiting for it to leave first.” a hitch in his breath,

“But I got too scared and left first before it could.”

The words land in a spot in Jay’s chest he had that was never truly buried. The confession knocks the breath out of him because something in it starts to shift.

Starts to connect. 

“What if one day you wake up and realize what you have…isn’t something you want anymore? What if you realize they’re not worth staying for in the end?”

His mind drags him back to months ago, that conversation specifically. Jungwon’s voice was quieter than usual, laced in a way Jay hadn’t understood at the time.

But now–

Now it clicks. Just enough for Jay to realize what this was all about. It wasn’t about the break up, or the way it ended. This was about something that had been there long before it all ended. Something Jay had just never known how to see. 

Jungwon. He wasn’t asking Jay to just stay, it was deeper than just that. It always has been. And suddenly, every moment Jay had brushed off as Jungwon’s pride or stubbornness started to rearrange itself in his mind. It was fear, not of just losing love—but of being left first. 

He turns around just in time to see Jungwon rubbing harshly at his eyes. He doesn’t miss the way the blond haired male quickly tries to hide the dampness on his skin, dragging his sleeve across his cheeks like that alone could erase it. 

But what he does notice—what he can’t ignore—is that Yang Jungwon doesn’t look away. 

He just stands there.

Back against the large windows, the faint light behind him spilling around his outline, turning him into something half-shadow and half-light. 

And for the first time tonight, Jungwon makes no attempt to hide himself. He doesn’t turn away. It’s just him now. Standing in front of Jay. Tear stricken and flushed. As if he’s saying without words: this is me. Messy, cracked open, all the parts I don’t show anyone else. 

But I’m letting you see it.

And I don't know what you’ll do with it. 

For a second, Jay doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak at all, he simply stares.

Because this version of Jungwon doesn’t fit neatly with anything Jay thought he knew. And it’s almost worse than the arguments, almost worse than the silence and pride. Because for the first time, he’s forced to confront something he’s been avoiding without even realizing it.

That all this time, Jungwon wasn’t the “evil-ex” he had quietly made him out to be in his head completely, he wasn’t the cold ending, not the one who just walked away without looking back. Because Jay remembers it now—properly for the first time. Jungwon might have been the one to turn away first, but Jay turned away right after. Without checking or turning back, just resigned to accept the fact that it was over. But Jungwon,

Jungwon did look back.

Jay just never noticed.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Jay finally asks, voice strained.

Jungwon lets out a shaky breath, and Jay can tell he’s trying his best to hold eye contact. “I didn’t mean to,” he says honestly. 

 “But I can’t do it anymore, Jay.” His voice cracks slightly on the name. “I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t matter.” 

“Because it does.” He swallows hard, “I didn’t think I could live with myself for another day without telling you that you didn’t do anything wrong. And I tried, God, I really did try to convince myself that it was better this way. That if I just ended things with you. I could somehow save you from all of this.”

His fingers curl slightly at his side, like he’s trying to hold himself together physically and it takes everything in Jay not to break at the sight.

“Save you from me,” he admits with a crack, almost like he hates that it’s true, “from my head, my fear, all of my insecurities and everything I never knew how to deal with properly.” 

He exhales shakily, “And I took it out on you without meaning to.”

The realization hits Jay harder the second time around. His throat tightens like a noose was wrapped around it. Pieces of floating fragments finally settle into something he’s starting to understand now. The fear, misplaced and messy, had been driving everything from the beginning. 

Jungwon hadn't been pushing him away because he stopped caring or because he fell out of love. But he had been pushing him away because caring felt like something that could backfire. That love no matter how present—never guaranteed commitment, the safety and reassurance of not leaving. 

And Jay stands there with that knowledge sitting heavy in his chest, realizing something worse. 

He hadn’t known. 

And now Jungwon is standing in front of him in the aftermath of it all. Devastating yet still here, broken yet still so whole. Still here. Waiting for something he doesn’t know how to ask for anymore but is trying to anyway.

As if Jungwon can feel the sudden shift in Jay's mood, he steps back slightly. Because the way Jay knows he’s looking at him—like he’s seeing too much all at once. Feeling too much all at once.

A beat of silence passes before Jungwon finally says, “You,”  he begins, “you don’t have to look at me like that,” he says quietly, almost defensively but there’s no bite to it. 

His gaze drops for a second then returns. “I didn’t say it to make you feel bad.”

“I just couldn’t keep pretending I was okay with what I did.” 

The silent stretches for what feels like an eternity. 

Jungwon’s words hang there, raw and aching in the bareness of the night.

And for some reason, the admission stings more than it should. Because Jungwon thinks that it was all his fault, and maybe it was. But where does that leave Jay? 

His jaw tightens more than he’d like. Because if Jungwon truly believed that—if he thought he was the problem all along then what did that make of everything Jay had done? All those times he handed Jungwon his heart on a silver platter, all the parts he gave without hesitation. But now, it feels like it never reached him. It never landed the way it was supposed to. He had thought he was giving everything—but now he realizes it. He never gave it in a way Jungwon could understand. And that, really, is what makes it burn. 

There’s a slight twitch in his finger, another subtle swallow, and Jay knows Jungwon’s itching to say something else but he lets the silence lingers a bit longer than necessary before he finally says, 

“You really thought that little of me?” Jay asks, voice low.

He sees the way Jungwon stills at his tone, completely freezing when Jay takes a step forward.

“That I’d just wake up one day and decide that you weren’t worth it?” he continues, another step closer.

His gaze doesn’t waver and neither does the sharpness in his voice. “Is that what you think I am?”

Jungwon’s lips part but nothing comes out.

Seeing the flicker of uncertainty and expression that looks like he’s already preparing for the worst, Jay exhales softly through his nose, feet steadying when he’s directly in front of the blond haired male.

“Because I stayed.” he continues, looking directly at Jungwon despite the way he’s struggling to maintain eye contact. “I stayed through everything you wouldn’t talk about. Through the parts you shut me out of.” His jaw tightens slightly,

 “And you still thought I was the one who was going to leave first.” It wasn't a question, not really, just something that Jay knew had to be said. 

Out loud, it echoes. 

And something in Jungwon visibly breaks at the sound of it. 

His lips part again but still nothing comes out, his throat constricts again like the words just refuse to come out, caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. 

He then lets out a short, humourless laugh, “Yeah,” he says quietly, voice rough, “I did.”

Jay feels his entire face tighten. 

Jungwon shakes his head, ignoring it, his head drops to the floor as if he can’t stand being looked at anymore.

“Because you shouldn’t have,” he adds, sharper now, equally matching Jay’s earlier tone making it Jay’s turn to go still. 

“You shouldn’t have stayed through all that,” Jungwon continues, the words coming out faster, harsher than the last—like a dam coming undone. “Through all those times I wouldn’t communicate, through all those times I shut you out-” 

His hands clench at his sides. 

“That’s not something you stay for,” he whispers harshly but it’s not aimed at Jay. It's aimed inward, to himself. Like he truly does believe that it’s true. 

“That’s something you walk away from, Jay.” 

He pauses, trying to catch his breath. But when he did look up, Jay was ruined.

“So yeah,” he finishes, “I thought you would. I thought you were supposed to.”

One second.

Two.

Then it snaps.

“That’s not how it works though.” Jay’s voice cuts through, crisp in the silence of their labored breaths. 

Firm and rough enough to make Jungwon flinch slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. 

Jay steps closer, the gesture a softer contrast to his tone.

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” he continues, “you don’t get to decide what’s worth staying for and what isn’t.” 

Jungwon’s gaze flickers but Jay grounds him,

“I stayed because I wanted to,” he says. “Because it was you.” 

The distance between them is practically nonexistent now. The ache in his chest is ever present, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He’s close enough now to see every unsteady breath, every small shift in Jungwon’s expression. 

“And I wanted you, Jungwon.” he adds, voice rougher now,  “God I wanted you more than anything.”

Jungwon’s eyes lift to meet his, and he looks like a prayer Jay never stopped worshiping—no matter how much it hurt.

Silence passes over them again, like Jungwon’s still trying to process what Jay just said—what it meant now for the trajectory of their relationship. 

After another beat, he parts his lips.

“Wanted.” Jungwon repeats, breathlessly. 

Jay’s brows knit slightly. “What?” 

Jungwon swallows, but doesn’t step back.

“Do you not want me anymore?” he asks.

And it’s dangerous—Jay realizes—how close they are now. 

The way Jungwon’s gaze drops, just for a second. To his lips. Like they were about to cross a line that neither could come back from. 

His hand is still on Jungwon’s arm. The question still hangs in the air, waiting. But Jay doesn’t answer it because for some reason the words won’t come out right.

So instead,

He closes the distance. Slowly, like he’s giving each of them every chance to stop.

But neither do. 

One step and another before space is no longer a thing. Jungwon’s breath catches and his body goes pliant under Jay’s touch. 

“I’ve never stopped.” He whispers.

And that’s the last thing that leaves his mouth before their lips press together in a way that didn’t feel soft or slow—instead it was instantaneous. Like a match struck too close to dry wood. There’s no easing into it or gentle unfolding. Just full blown impact. A spark that turns into something immediate and consuming. A fire that was thought to be gone suddenly roaring back to life in a single breath. 

Air has become something sacred, and quite frankly Jay thinks he could’ve gone without it but it’s Jungwon who breaks it first. Not pulling away completely, but just enough to rest his nose against Jay’s.

“Did that answer your question?” Jay asks.

“Hyung..” he starts, but it doesn’t come out like a protest at all. 

Something in the way he doesn’t call Jay by his name makes him go weak in his knees.

Dangerous. This is—

Jay doesn’t think twice before he’s surging forward again. It comes harder this time, his arms are fully wrapped around Jungwon’s waist now. One hand traveling up his spine, curling in the back of his hair—something he never thought he’d feel again.

Jungwon lets out a breathy noise that causes Jay to groan into his mouth. Fuck, he’s missed this so much. Their mouths slotted against one another, it’s all so familiar. Igniting and enough to set his skin alight. 

Jungwon tastes the same. Vanilla and a reminder of a life that used to be theirs. He’s everything Jay knows he should be running the opposite direction from but when Jungwon’s fingers curl around his nape to close the practically nonexistent space between them, he can’t think of any reason he should. 

His lips are moving down before he even realizes what he’s doing. His body is moving on its own accord, traveling down Jungwon’s skin like it’s a road he doesn’t need a map to remember. To remember the slight dip in his jawline, to remember the mole that dots subtly on his chin, to remember exactly why he loved this so much. 

His hands travel down the younger’s waist, lips nibbling at the skin pliant beneath his touch. He watches in awe as a pale red color flourishes, blooming in his wake. A sight he hasn’t seen in months but never wanted to stop seeing. 

Jungwon lets out another stifled sound before he’s patting Jay’s arm lightly.

Jay groans, not wanting to detach from his skin but another tap forces him to pull back. He looks up and now, this is just completely unfair. 

Jungwon, swallowed up in his jacket, hair frayed in all sorts of directions, messy from Jay’s hands running through them, lips bruised and swollen with a gleam of spit coating his lower—and he’s just staring at him.

The silence that sits between them is full. Full of too many things they need to talk about, but for now Jay just wishes time could freeze. Because this moment—it feels like something he had dreamed up. In whatever fantasy world he had stumbled upon, he never wanted to wake up. 

“Jay ah.”

“Hm?” 

Jay hums. 

Jungwon is still watching him. In this lighting he looks bare. Stripped off the apprehensiveness that seemed to color him blue the past couple hours. He looks rather timid now, small and pliant in Jay’s arm like he’s given up gravity. 

The blond haired male tilts his head slightly, something akin to fondness spilling in his eyes. But it’s the way his lips tremble when he finally speaks that captures Jay’s entire attention.

“Will you stay tonight?” 

And oh.

It seems like such a simple question, but the meaning behind it was heavy enough that Jay can hear the rapid thumping of his heart in his chest, he faintly wonders if Jungwon can hear it too.

His chest tightens at the look in Jungwon’s eyes. There’s something pure and completely unguarded in his expression. The hand he had on Jay’s bicep falls to his side. And Jay can only watch as Jungwon looks like he’s about to curl in on himself.

And that’s when he realizes.

Jungwon’s scared. Scared of being rejected by him. 

Because this sudden thing they built, witnessed by the walls of his apartment—is fragile. A flimsy thing with a rocky foundation, one wrong word and the whole thing could collapse and they’d be back at the start. 

But despite it all, consequences in the morning be damned—Jay’s hand lifts, brushing lightly against the side of Jungwon’s arm.

“You got a spare bed for me?” he asks, raising a brow, tone teasing. 

“Tch.” Jungwon shoves his shoulder but it lacks strength.

Jay doesn’t miss the way Jungwon’s shoulder drops by an inch, like something in him finally unclenches at Jay’s response.

“You’re gonna be on the floor.” Jungwon scoffs, turning around and suddenly the moment breaks.

Because for the first time, 

Jungwon turns away, and Jay doesn’t feel like he’s being left behind.

“That doesn’t look comfortable." 

Jay looks up from where he’s hunched over his phone. 

He really is on the floor. 

Jungwon is sprawled over his own bed, snuggled beneath the fluffy white sheets, watching him with half-lidded eyes as Jay scrolls mindlessly through his notes. 

He had told him he wasn’t sleepy, claimed he needed to look over his schedule for tomorrow. Jungwon didn’t believe him for a second. But he insisted on staying up anyway. So they compromised. And that compromise came in the form of Jay, sitting on the floor beside the low platform bed and Jungwon, hanging halfway off the edge just to keep Jay in his view. 

He looks so tired. Jay can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at the sight of Jungwon blinking heavily. Clearly exhausted but not wanting to fully close his eyes. As if he was afraid that if he did give in, Jay might not be there when he wakes up.

“I’m okay, Jungwon-ah. Go to sleep.” Jay murmurs, gently nudging the younger one’s body back onto the bed so he wouldn’t completely tip over. 

But Jungwon grabs his wrist mid-motion.

Jay stills, eyes widening slightly.

“What are you–”

“Let me hold your hand, hyung.” Jungwon says, voice muffled in the sheets but Jay catches his eye, peeking from above it. 

Jay pauses, like he’s trying to decipher if Jungwon’s actually being serious. 

But there’s a flush on his face that makes Jay realize he’s being dead serious. 

“We can pretend I’m still drunk or something.” he adds softly after a beat, taking in the hesitancy on Jay’s face.

Because now there’s nothing to excuse this. No alcohol to blame it on. No amount of anger to excuse it on. It’s a choice, a sober one despite Jungwon’s humoring suggestion. One they can’t hide behind anything.

Jungwon’s still holding his wrist, lightly and carefully, as if holding on any tighter would make Jay push him away completely. 

“Okay.” Jay says at last.

His fingers unfurl but there is still a beat where nothing happens. And then Jungwon’s fingers are sliding into his. Hesitant like he’s still trying to test the space between them but when Jay doesn’t pull away he fully locks their hands together. 

Their hands fit together in a way that feels too natural to be new. Too familiar for it not to ache. Jay watches in slight awe at the contrast he’d nearly forgotten. Jungwon’s pale, unblemished wrist against his tanner, calloused one.

Neither of them say a thing. Jay’s thumb swipes once, then brushes twice absentmindedly against Jungwon’s knuckle.

The bed creaks slightly above him as Jungwon shifts, lying fully on his side now, facing Jay. Their interlocked hands being the one bridge between them. Suddenly, the room feels smaller and despite the lights being off, it seems brighter. Bright moonlight spills through the half opened curtains of Jungwon’s window, bathing half of the room in a silver glow.

But the only thing that captures all of Jay’s attention is Jungwon.

His eyes are soft and heavy with sleep yet he still manages to blink at Jay. Each one looks harder to manage than the one before and Jay can’t help the breath of a laugh that slips out.

“Sleep, Jungwon.” he murmurs into the silent room.

Jungwon blinks once almost owlishly, like he’s about to cave. 

He blinks again but this time, his eyes close a second longer. When they finally do open, he’s looking at Jay like he isn’t fully sure this is real anymore.

“Please don’t be gone when I wake up.”

And that’s the last thing Jay hears before he feels Jungwon’s grip slackening just slightly.

He’s fallen asleep, yet his hand doesn’t fall away completely.

He’s still holding on, Jay thinks.

And in the silence that follows, with their hands still tangled together under the moon’s glow, sleep finally finds Jay.

Golden is what greets Yang Jungwon when he opens his eyes.

The light comes in slowly. Thin and uninviting in the way that it seems to sneak through, filtering through the mesh of the curtain, spilling gently across the floor.

A dull ache pulsing behind his eye is what greets him next. 

Right, of course his poor drinking decisions were hitting him now. 

He lifts a hand to rub his face when he realizes he can’t move it properly. Can’t move it properly because something—no, someone is holding on. Something that’s warm, solid, and–

His heart stutters in chest, tripping over completely. Slowly, Jungwon turns his head.

What he sees makes him stop breathing completely.

Because beside his bed, with his back resting against the walls and cheeks slumped awkwardly against the side of Jungwon's bed in a position that surely looks like it aches—is Park Jay.

He’s still here. Something in his brain whispers.

Of course, he’s still here. 

Still asleep on the floor beside him. Still holding his hand.

And for a second, Jungwon doesn’t move. Doesn't quite remember how to breathe properly. The thought refuses to settle easily. It sits in his chest like something too big to hold, pressing against parts of himself he never even realized were still sore. 

Slowly, Jungwon shifts a bit closer on the bed, careful not to wake him. The movement makes the mattress dip, a quiet creak and Jungwon panics. Eyes flicking to Jay, as if he expected a burst and for Jay to disappear. To confirm that maybe this was all just a dream. 

But Jay just exhales softly. 

Jungwon bites his lip at the sight, hard enough for it to hurt. 

He stares at the dark haired male beside him. Really stares. At the way his lashes rest against his skin, delicate and soft. At the slight crease in his brows that Jungwon used to love pressing his thumb between—to ease out the weight that seemed to plague the man even in his sleep. 

Back then, when they were still together, Jungwon remembered how much he used to love waking up earlier just to watch Jay fast asleep. Jay always called it weird but Jungwon never understood why. Because to him, there was nothing strange about it—rather he felt a sense of overwhelmingness. Quiet in a way he never knew how to explain. Every time he watches Jay’s chest rise and fall, every time he’d murmur something under his breath in his sleep, because it always made Jungwon think—Where do you go when you’re asleep, Jay-ah? Where is it that you go, that I cannot follow? 

The thought feels different somehow now as he watches Jay again. He’s completely unaware, features open and gentle in a way Jungwon has never been able to be—but maybe something he can start to learn to be. If only for Jay, though.

Jungwon’s gaze stays on him for a long time. 

“You’re really still here,” he says quietly, almost as if he was in awe,

It’s no longer a question, but rather it feels like a statement. For the first time, Jungwon was certain. And God, is it overwhelming. He can barely see or feel past the sudden burning in his chest, his eyes, his throat—everything. Because for the first time, Jungwon can feel it in his bones. Can believe it for the first time. Jay’s not leaving. Love does stay if you don’t bolt. 

His throat is near tearing with how constricting it suddenly became, 

“I don’t think I ever really,” he starts, then stops.

Jay shifts slightly in his sleep but doesn’t wake.

He swallows and tries again, “I don’t think I ever really let myself believe you would stay.”

The words hang in the space between them. Heavy yet the most honest Jungwon has been in months. Not to just Jay—but to himself.

“I kept waiting for it,” he whispers. “For you to get tired. For you to decide I was too much.”

“Because it’s always been like that,” he murmurs, voice humorless. “I’d always leave first.” His eyes stay on Jay. 

“I thought that if I did it before they could, it wouldn’t hurt as much.” 

He runs a soft rub over Jay’s thumb,

“I never looked back.”

A pause, then softly, like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear despite it being only the two of them in the room:

“So I thought I could do the same with you.” Something in his chest falters at his own words, 

“But I was wrong,” he says. “I was wrong, Jay-ah.” he repeats, and for a moment the room splits into two.

Hurriedly, he uses his other hand to wipe at the stinging in his eye. The realization’s finally catching up to him, too late to undo. It became too heavy from all those months of pretending, of trying not to think, of filling the silence and ache with anything that wasn’t this. Nothing worked. Nothing amount of trying something new could ever capture the feeling that was Jay.

“I was wrong.” He repeats again, like a broken record.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts, he almost doesn’t notice it when Jay starts to shift.

Almost.  

Jungwon won’t feign ignorance and pretend he was oblivious to the fact that he’s heard the talks going around in social circles and even on campus about his and Jay’s relationships. 

The guy who made Yang Jungwon stay longer than three months. 

The one who finally got under his skin.

Rumors dressed up as jokes. Stories that people told around because they never really looked close enough to know better. The story was always painted one way. That being Jay being the one who fell first. Jay being the one who would get hurt in the end because it was inevitable with Yang Jungwon’s playboy persona. 

But they never saw it properly. Never truly saw who Jungwon was under the title he was ambushed into. Never saw the parts of him that noticed everything when it came to Jay. Like right now–it’s subtle at first but Jungwon hears it, the faint drag of breath changing rhythm, the slight movement of his fingers still caught in Jungwon’s hold.

Instinctively, Jungwon’s grip tightens.

He watches as Jay’s lashes flutter.

Once. 

Twice. And then he’s waking.

He’s silent, Jungwon notices almost immediately. 

“You’ve said that about three times now.” Jay finally says, voice still rough from sleep.

Jungwon freezes. His hand twitches in Jay’s and he’s about to pull away but Jay catches it before it happens.

His grip isn’t harsh or forceful but more firm. Like he’s trying to ground Jungwon. Like he’s trying to say: don’t run now, Jungwon. We’ve come too far for that now.

“Hey,” Jay murmurs, softly.

Jungwon swallows despite the lump in his throat. “I didn’t mean for you to hear all of that,” he says quickly, “I- I was just talking. Thinking out loud, I’m sorry– it wasn’t supposed to-”

He cuts himself off because his words are a complete mess and he knows it. So he takes the wiser choice and shuts his mouth. Face flushing in something akin to shame as he looks down.

He can practically feel Jay’s eyes on him. He sees the older male shift slightly closer on the floor, still holding his hand.

“Jungwon,” he says again, and Jungwon can feel it now, the soft circles drawn over his knuckles. “Hey,” he repeats gently. “Look at me,”

He’s so patient. Jungwon used to think that was the problem. Back then, he would’ve told himself that this was exactly why it never worked out. Why he had to end things before they got too deep. Because he never thought he was someone who should be looked at like this.

Like something that was worth waiting for. Something worth hurting for.  Something worth staying for.

But when he looks up and meets Jay’s eyes. He shatters.

Because despite all those months between them, despite all the pain Jungwon knows he put him through–Jay’s still looking at him the same way. With the same certainty and devotion. Like a man lost and suddenly found by the one thing that could save him. He looked at Jungwon with a reverence reserved for religion. 

And at that thought, Jungwon's heart flips in his chest. 

Two things happen at once:

Something inside him comes rushing back all at once—not anything new, but something familiar, a feeling that was never buried. One that never left, but only went quiet because it didn’t know where to go. 

And then his body moves before he can stop it.

Jungwon drops from the bed so quickly the mattress creaks in protest. His grip is still tangled in Jay;s hand as he pulls him closer in one sharp motion.

There’s nothing graceful in the way he lands in Jay’s lap but he knows that if doesn’t touch him now, the feeling will split him open.

“Jungwon–”

Jay’s voice catches, surprised, hands instinctively rising to steady him.

Fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. Jungwon looks up, the words are just on the tip of his tongue but he knows he can’t say it—at least not yet.

“Jay,” 

Said male is still looking at him, still partially shocked and partially confused but he still holds Jungwon. 

“Hm?”

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits shakily against his shoulder.

“Do what?” And Jungwon hears it, a beat where a certain pet name should’ve been but he knows Jay won’t say it, but something in him nearly winces at the sudden awareness that he misses it more than he expected to. 

God. He’d do anything just to hear Jay call him baby again. He’d almost said it last night—Jungwon clearly remembers it in the car. The way the first syllable came out only for him to cut it off before it could.

“I don’t want to leave.” he finally says, voice cracking on the last syllable and he feels Jay’s entire body go still against his. 

Jungwon feels it immediately, the change in his breathing, the way his hands pause around Jungwon’s back.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to see Jay’s face. But he begins speaking again before he can try to pick out just exactly what was written on Jay’s face. So open, so bare, so unguarded—just there for him to see.

“I don’t want to leave.” he repeats, “but I- I don’t know what this means for you.” a beat, he doesn’t quite know how to put his words together perfectly but it’s better than silence and letting Jay assume.

“I hurt you,” he says, it’s a statement. The raw truth that makes both of them flinch slightly, “I know I did. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to take me back just because I finally stopped running.” 

“I don’t want to be something you accept out of obligation,” he adds quietly, “Or pity. Or because I’m only choosing this now.” 

His voice drops, hands loosening around Jay’s shirt like he’s ready—ready for the final blow. 

The silence stretches like a rope gone taut but Jungwon doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away this time. He stays there, on Jay’s lap and just waits. 

Their eye contact is nothing but short of igniting. It burns, it’s intrusive, it’s too close but Jungwon wouldn’t want to have it any other way,

And then, Jay’s lip parts.

“You think I’d do that?” He asks. 

There’s no offence in his voice or that sharpness he was expecting, but rather genuine curiosity.

Jungwon’s grip falters slightly. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to hope for with you anymore.”

And that’s what causes Jay to shift slightly, not letting him go but moving their position slightly so he's fully resting his back against the wall now. Jungwon still in his lap facing him.

“I’m not going to pretend you didn’t hurt me,” Jay says. “I’m not going to pretend that what happened wasn’t messed up.” a small exhale, “I was upset with you for a while.”

Jungwon flinches.

And Jay notices almost immediately. But he doesn’t try to sugarcoat it and Jungwon knows because that’s the truth. Raw and ugly as it might be, it’s the truth.

“I needed to,” he adds softly after noticing how Jungwon goes slightly rigid, “It was the only way I could get through the break up without going back to you immediately. Jake and Sunghoon would’ve killed me.” he chuckles lightly.

Now that gets Jungwon to react a bit, a small curve graces his lips but it doesn’t stay for long.

“But even then,” Jay continues, “it wasn’t because I stopped wanting you. I told you last night, and I’ll tell you again right now.”

A hand lifts his chin and Jungwon stills completely and their eyes fully meet again.

“I don’t want you back because I feel bad for you,” he continues, “And I definitely don’t want you back just because you decided to stay now.”

His hand slides up slightly, resting now at Jungwon’s nape.

“I want you,” he says simply,

“Whether you stay or leave or even if you bolt out of this room right now.” 

Jungwon’s breath catches in his throat but Jay’s gaze doesn’t waver.

“And yeah,” he murmurs, “maybe that sounds stupid. Because it’s scary to give someone your heart the first time for them to break—and it’s even scarier to give it back to them again after they gave you every reason not to. But I’d rather be scared with you, than to be fine without you.” he says. “because the possibility of you is better than the reality of anyone else”

His eyes are so earnest that Jungwon nearly whimpers. 

“But it’s not about my pride anymore,” Jay continues, “It’s about the fact that I’ve already chosen you.”

“And I’ll continue to choose you. Even when it’s easy and especially when it’s hard.”

A pause, and then he does something that completely tilts Jungwon’s world.

He smiles at him, the soft one where one side of his dimple suddenly becomes visible.

“I chose you then and I’ll choose you now, baby.”

Jungwon looks up so fast it almost hurts. Like the word physically hit him. His breath stutters because there it is. The thing he thought he lost the right to hear forever.

The small, broken sound that leaves his throat this time actually escapes, and it catches Jay off guard.

His eyebrows lift, a hint of teasing slipping through. What was that about? His expression seem to say but Jungwon’s already burying his head into the crook of Jay’s neck. Arms tightening around him so tightly he wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow accidentally cut off Jay’s oxygen supply. 

“Don’t.” Jungwon mumbles against him, voice muffled.

Jay huffs out a quiet breath, somewhere between amused and soft. “Don’t do what?” Then after half a second, like it was deliberate, he adds, “..baby.”

Jungwon whines.

Laughter erupts from Jay. So hard that it jostles Jungwon who’s pressed against him completely now.

“Why are you saying it like it’s still normal?” He groans, but there’s no real protest in his voice. His face is beet red now, he knows it.

“Jungwon-”

“It’s not fair!” Jungwon pulls away slightly, “you can’t just call me that and expect me to be okay-”

He cuts himself off when he catches Jay watching him again with that amused look. Enough to make another wave of heat creep up his neck.

Jay laughs again, hands moving in slow grounding strokes along Jungwon’s back. “I’ve always said it like that,” he replies.

“Nothing changed on my end.”

And oh does Jungwon just melt at that. He hates the way Jay has with his words, it gets annoying and dangerously unhealthy for his heart.

“You’re so annoying.” Jungwon rolls his eyes, though there’s no real bite to it. 

Jay’s lip twitches at that.

“And that’s why you love me.”

Jungwon freezes for half a second. 

Fuck. So Jay’s saying it now.

Not that there was anything wrong with it, but rather, it shocks Jungwon how easily Jay can say it.

Like it was never a question. Like what he felt was obvious, never changing. 

His gaze flickers away because suddenly it’s become too much. Not in a bad way, but it’s just Jungwon can feel it. The heat creeping up his neck for almost the millionth time in one morning. It’s becoming quite concerning just how much of an effect Jay got on him. 

“You’re really confident for someone who just got dumped a few months ago,” Jungwon shoots back, but it comes out weaker than he intended.

Jay just hums, but the smirk on his face is what makes Jungwon’s heart do summersaults in his chest. 

That damn smirk.

“You didn’t say you stopped though,” he replies casually.

That makes Jungwon look at him. And somewhere, a flutter of wings brush against his rib cages. Soft but Jungwon knows better than to underestimate just how all-consuming the feeling can become.

“You’re impossible,” he mumbles, but his hands haven’t let go of Jay

Jay notices, of course he notices.

But what Jungwon notices though is the way Jay’s eyes fall as if on instinct a bit lower.

Lower until he’s not even hiding how he’s staring at Jungwon’s lips.

He looks up and in that split second, the shock that pulsates between them is enough for Jungwon to lean in, fully closing the gap between them.

Kissing Jay was never just fireworks.

Jungwon feels it now as they’re pressed together once more. This kiss is softer, way more delicate than last night. It’s full—not rushed or too deep. Just enough for them to both be present in the moment and choose.

It lingers for a second, then another before Jay pulls away slowly, just enough for them to rest their foreheads against one another.

The sunlight that filters through the window has spread across the room, engulfing everything in a golden yellow.

How long have they been here? 

Jungwon pulls away slightly to glance over at the clock, realizing just how long they’ve been here. It’s nearly noon now.

His eyes widen as he’s suddenly pushing himself off of Jay, scrambling to get up.

“Woah! What-,” Jay begins, 

But Jungwon’s already dragging him up with him, half pulling, half panicking. 

“Shit.” He blurts, “We have to get up. I had to meet Sunoo for brunch at 10.” 

Bed sheets come flying as Jungwon rushes up. 

“A bit too late for that, no?” Jay states the obvious,

That earns him a glare from the blond.

But Jay only laughs under his breath, settling back slightly as he watches Jungwon move around the room. 

His eyes trailing Jungwon as he rushes from the closet, to his vanity, then to the bathroom, all while muttering under his breath how Sunoo was going to kill him for not showing up, still half tangled in sleep and panic.

Jay doesn’t move. He simply props his hands against his knees and watches. 

And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, he decides that this. This is what he misses the most. 

The ability to just exist within Jungwon’s orbit. Jungwon, rushing and complaining and forgetting things and existing so fully it fills the room. 

Jay leans back slightly, exhaling slowly as his eyes follow the head of gold weaving about the room. Maybe this is what  it means, he thinks. Not just loving someone in the big moments. But to notice and observe the mundane. To love the moments where it shouldn’t matter, but it still does. To love someone in just the way they exist when they’re not trying to be anything else. 

And maybe they might never go back to what they were before—who they were before the hurt. But maybe it was always meant to be that way. Maybe everything that had happened was meant to happen—because it’s only because of the pain that they’ve grown into the people they are in this moment. 

But whether it was fate or not, Jay thinks that it wouldn’t have mattered. 

Because despite it all—despite the break up, the hurt, the relapsing—all of the roads Jungwon took still somehow lead back to him.

And the map that Jay follows is one that never really changed.

It always pointed toward Jungwon.

“Hyung! Could you grab the white shirt on my chair?”

A white shirt arrives at the bathroom door in the next second.

“Oh! And my watch? It’s on the–”

A silver watch is already in his awaiting palm before he finishes. 

Jungwon pauses mid peeking his head from behind the door.

“Wait also my sweater–”

Jay’s already at the door with it in hand. 

Jungwon finally turns fully around, towel around his neck, hair still damp, staring at him like he’s just now processing what’s happening.

“…Are you teleporting..?” he asks, genuinely baffled.

Jay huffs a quiet laugh at that, leaning slightly against the doorframe. “You get very stressed when you’re late, baby. This is the least I could do.” 

The way the words slipped from Jay’s lips sounded so normal. Like it’s nothing, like accommodating to every single one of Jungwon’s needs was something that didn’t need practice, it was just natural.

Something in Jungwon’s chest caves in a little at that—breaks a little bit further. A feeling that can no longer be held off–held in.

And maybe that’s why he can’t hold it in anymore. Because when he looks up, Jay is already watching him

“What?” Jay asks softly, nudging the sweater forward. 

But Jungwon chooses to ignore it. Instead, he grabs Jay’s hand, tugging him forward in a swift motion. 

The sudden lack of space between them catches the older male off guard. He blinks up at him slowly, unhurried. 

Jungwon’s breath catches at the sight. 

“Jay-ah,” he hums,

“Hm?”

Instead of answering right away, Jungwon places a kiss on the tip of his nose. Gently like he doesn’t want to be rushed, careful like Jay is too delicate to come too harshly across.

“Jay-ah,” he repeats, softer this time, and kisses his cheek.

“Yes, baby?” Jay answers automatically. 

Another kiss. This one slower, feather-light against his chin. 

And then Jungwon finally places his attention back on his eyes. 

“I love you,” he says.

He can faintly feel Jay stiffen, like he’s afraid he’s heard wrong. Afraid that he might’ve conjured it up in his mind—and Jungwon decides that simply will not do. 

So he says it again, “I love you.”

It’s clearer this time, intentional in every way. He won’t allow the silence to become doubt.

He feels it then when the words land. The way Jay’s entire body seems to exhale. The way his grip doesn’t tighten because he realizes now that there’s no reason to be holding on too tightly anymore. 

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t say it,” Jay murmurs after a beat, a faint smile in his voice, though Jungwon catches the subtle relief underneath. 

“Tch, you’re annoying.” Jungwon huffs but it lacks any real bite—simply because he doesn’t know where to put himself now that it’s out in the open. 

His heart in the palm of Jay’s hands.

“I know,” Jay replies.

“You couldn’t have said anything romantic instead?” Jungwon mutters, shoving him lightly, eyes flicking away as heat rises to his cheeks under Jay’s gaze. 

That earns him another quiet breath of a laugh. 

“I love you too, Jungwon.”

Jungwon’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden admission.

“Now you wanna say it?” he says, finally looking back at him, disbelief breaking through the embarrassment. 

Jay just hums, like he’s completely unbothered while Jungwon’s a blushing mess now. 

“You’re absolutely impossible.” Jungwon shoots him a look.

Jay just grins even wider.

“I know, baby.” 

And just as Jungwon’s about to fire back another response–

Jay leans in and kisses him, fast enough to stop him mid-sentence. To shut him up in the softest way possible.

When he pulls back, Jungwon is still blinking at him, words gone entirely.

“T-that wasn’t fair!” he stammers, finally finding his voice again. 

Jay looks entirely too satisfied as he pats Jungwon’s head lovingly. “You were talking too much anyway.” he says with amusement. 

And just like that, he slips past Jungwon and into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Leaving Jungwon standing there, still processing. And still very red in the face. 

But despite himself, he can’t stop the lovesick smile that spreads across his lips almost immediately, soft and helpless in a way that would probably make anyone watching him feel a little sick. 

But he wouldn’t have it any other way

Plan A: Get Them Back Together

4 members active 

Riki

What’s your guys bet they’ll be back together by tomorrow morning? 

Jake

$50, Jay’s gonna text me panicking tmrw. 

Hoon

Either he’s gonna be the happiest man alive tomorrow or we’re gonna have to hear this for another month

Sunoo

[sent an attachment at 10:22 am]

Hoon

???

Jake

No fucking way

Are they holding hands in their sleep?!

Riki

Bruh, it didn’t even take them twenty four hours.

Hoon

Okay but real talk,

Sunoo did you really stalk Jay that one week?

Sunoo

Look, let’s just say I got a really tempting offer.

Jake

What was it?

Sunoo

It was sacrificing one week for a month of an endless mint choco supply.

Riki

And what did you do??

Sunoo

[sent an attachment]

[in photo: six boxes of mint chocolate and two tubes of ice cream]

Bonus:

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

“Did you really send Sunoo to stalk me that one week six months ago?”

“First of all, he volunteered.”

A pause.

“And second of all…I paid a hefty price!”

A laugh echoes in the dark room.

“You’re insane.”