#MINGHAO AND THE LOVE LETTERS ONE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sungjinhos · 10 months ago

Text

I THINK WE MARRIED IN VEGAS

✷ You and Jeonghan have always been friends, and friends go on a trip together, right? And somehow friends always end up marrying in Las Vegas right? And somehow friends become roommates as well right? That all seems very normal when Yoon Jeonghan has a weird addiction to doing the dumbest things ever just for shock value.

✷ genre: comedy (?), angst, smut (minors don't interact)

✷ word count: 28.244

✷ featuring: Yoon Ttoram, Choi Seungcheol, Lee Seokmin, Kim Mingyu as the unnamed satan-spit roommate one night stand, and Xu Minghao as the gothic impasto painter guy.

✷ thea’s note: hey y’all this is my longest fic yet so I’m weirdly proud. I had fun writing this and trying to figure out how to build this Jeonghan and yes I did rewatched the birth of Ttoram while writing this. By the way - love you guys but the whole credit/debt/buying a house is just for plot I do not know how any of this works in America (and it is mainly set in America because I needed Vegas lol) <3 So bear with it. Also thanks to @wongyuuu for keeping me company in this nanowimo challenge, and thaks to @toruro Mika you are the best <3 thank you for reading this

✷ Smut warnings under the read more ✷

✷ smut count: lost count of how many times Jeonghan thought he was going to cum on his pant, 1 dick sucked, teenagers level of horniness, non penetrative sex still sex, a lot of kissing, a 3 second of cumplay still a cumplay i guess.

"Should we do it?" you hear Jeonghan ask, his face focused on something outside the car’s window. The lights of all the neon signs dance on his face and features—like a scene from a movie. He looks tired and overworked even though you are somewhat on vacation.

"Do what?" you ask, trying to understand what he meant. Maybe he was talking about a hotel spa and you missed the beginning of the sentence because you were too lost in your own thoughts? Yeah, a message would be a lifesaver right now.

"That," he says, pointing at one of the hundreds of little chapels in Las Vegas. This one has a deal sign in big and bold letters—an Elvis Presley priest, a bouquet, a professional photographer, and a bottle of champagne for half the price. Well, you never thought about off-season in Vegas, but maybe business was a little rough at this time of the year, but to be quite honest that did seem like a great deal—the shopaholic in you would fall for it if it didn’t involve marriage.

"Are you drunk already?" you ask. Even though you have known the man for years, you still can’t read Jeonghan properly.

Sometimes you think about how he is a book that is written in a different language, and you couldn’t have access to him without a dictionary on the side. Jeonghan does look like a classic—he is well put together, he is fancy, and he would be one of those books that have an embellished spine—the prettiest book on your bookshelf. But at the same time, he is one of those books that need commentaries on every page because somehow the author didn't care about giving enough context or didn't think his work would survive so many years. And one that the storylines end up being totally fucked up, so basically a Russian classical.

"No, I'm painfully sober," Jeonghan says while leaning his head on the window of the car. It almost makes you laugh when you hear the loud sound of him bumping his head, even the Uber driver who didn’t utter a word turns his head back. "It's just," he starts again, "I heard Seungcheol talking about it, and it seems nice to be married."

"What are you talking about?” you say in disbelief, “Seungcheol is not married yet, he is having a bachelor party in Vegas. He is drinking his weight in alcohol and spending the college tuition of his firstborn in the casino. You and him know about the same thing about marriage, which equals barely anything."

“Yeah but he did talk about all the perks—Oh thank you,” he notices that the Uber finally arrived at the hotel feat casino and all the Vegas shenanigans. Jeonghan holds the car door for you, like a true gentleman—you almost scoff. “What I was trying to say is, Seungcheol did talk to me about being married, it doesn’t feel like a bad deal at all.” Again, he holds the door for you.

“So we should just get married in Vegas because Seungcheol said it is a great deal?” you ask Jeonghan like he said the stupidest thing ever, which is partially true. It was one of the stupidest things he’d ever said to you, and you’ve known the man for years—you’ve witnessed a fair amount of his stupidity, all laced with his all-knowing smile. Every time you tried to understand what he was talking about it always left you feeling like this man was insane.

“I mean? What would you lose?” Jeonghan asked, crossing his arms after pushing the elevator buttons—one for your room, the other one so the door closes faster (he is one of those people).

“A lot?” you say almost laughing. What the fuck? It resonates in your mind, almost like the words are bumping the walls of your cranium, like the old Windows 98 screensaver logo.

“Yeah? Like what?” Jeonghan asks and the ping of the elevator makes sure both of you know that it arrived before opening the door.

“Freedom,” you say, trying to stay normal and not succumb to Jeonghan—you both hear someone saying,“Hold!” across the hall. Jeonghan just smiles and clicks the button to close the door. Maniac really, without basic education. To be fair though, it was a frat dude with another frat dude who could wait for the next elevator without dying, but still.

“Come on, you are a book editor. You love everything that has nothing to do with freedom, you love rules and everything that shackles you.” You scoff hearing Jeonghan’s words.

You want to argue, you want to kick and scream and pick a fight because is he basically calling you boring right? He is totally calling you the most boring person he’s ever met, and you are in Vegas - and still, somehow, you are the boring girl. But he is right about it—you do not leave your comfort zone, you do not do crazy very well, and you don’t even drink that much because losing control of situations makes you slightly insane. And Jeonghan is right because he is one of your closest friends, and you talked about it with him, he even knows how this is a recurrent topic in your therapy. Asshole.

“Well, still don’t give me the urge to marry you, your sales points are awful—how do you hold your job?” You ask side eyeing your friend, well, if you wanted to marry someone calling them boring is not the right way to do it.

“I do a better job when I need to sell to investors, I’m not giving my all right now since you are not paying me,” Jeonghan says, leaving the elevator and looking back at you. Well, not giving your all when you are asking someone for marriage - number two mistake.

“I’d hope so, otherwise your name would be number one in the next layoff,” you say rolling your eyes.

“Come on,” Jeonghan scoffs. “You didn’t hear Seungcheol talking about the benefits," he says, opening the door to your shared hotel door. The deal was to sleep in a weird hotel that may have bedbugs or share a room and a bed with Jeonghan in a more upscale hotel whose bathroom didn’t look like a crime scene. Not a difficult decision, to be quite honest.

“Is Seungcheol now a pro-marriage coach?” you ask, taking off your shoes and leaving your bag on the nearest chair.

“Probably, I mean, the side money would be crazy,” he says, taking off his watch and leaning against the table, again crossing his arms. “What I meant is did you ever think about the tax deduction, health insurance benefits, leave benefits? Also, Seungcheol did remind me that the bank raises the chance of getting approved credits if the spouse has a great credit history.”

“Yet he is the one marrying because he loves his girlfriend,” you remind Jeonghan, because apparently he is forgetting one the key ingredients of marriage in contemporary societies - love, affection, and a dose of “I love you but leaving with you every time you forget the toothpaste open is making me thinking about how life in hell would look like.”

“Right,” Jeonghan scoffs, making you even more curious.

“What would you need credits for?” you ask. Jeonghan is an unmarried and childless man, who works on investments, travels twice a year, and has a car. You on the other hand work in a crumbling industry - books, who reads books? - don’t travel a lot and your car is like twelve years old.

“Marry me and I tell you,” Jeonghan answered without letting the ball drop, quick on his feet like always, you could never catch this man.

“Tell me and I will think about it,” You try to pry.

“A house.” He says earnestly.

Again - you know Jeonghan, and you know your friend is a lunatic, but you also know when he is being completely honest with you. The man did want that house, which was completely weird. Jeonghan was a city guy, he was living in a rented apartment sure, but it was a great apartment, it even had a view. He worked downtown, why would he need a house?

“A house?” You try again, trying to get more details of what the heck is making your friend go crazy out of a sudden.

“Yeah, a house.” He says shrugging like it is the most common thing ever, maybe it is a well-known scheme of marrying for taxes and credits that you don’t know, maybe you are late. Maybe you are outdated putting together marriage and love in the same sentence, maybe, the world has changed. “Will you marry me?” Jeonghan asks you in his dullest voice ever like he is tired and completely bored.

“No.” You deadpan.

“Come on, at least pretend that you are thinking about it,” Jeonghan says, lying on the bed horizontally, his face is now closer to you and his legs are too big so they hang out of the bed, like a kid almost. “It has four bedrooms so you can move and say fuck you to Laurel the accountability girl.”

Well, that makes you think about it. He should have started with that. Maybe if he just proposed a new roommate scheme you would’ve said yes in the uber.

“I don't hate her that much,” you lied through your teeth, you hated that girl. You blamed the real state crisis because the rent was crazy, sharing the apartment was a good deal on paper, and half of the rent money went to your savings account so you could live in peace - Jeonghan actually advised you on how to save and where to invest if you wanted to retire quickly, but you never really thought about buying shares and selling shares and the whole ordeal.

“Fuck you,” He laughs, “every week I have to hear you complain how she lets food go bad and how it leaves your fridge stinky enough to make you almost puke, and that only happens when she doesn't food go bad on the kitchen counter or wait, do you remember when she forgets to lock the door two times last week?”

“Well, I am sorry if I have listened to true crimes podcast enough to be actually aware of the horrors of being a woman and how serial killers are out there just waiting for you to sleep with the fucking door open,” you say like you are the most reasonable person ever.

“And you are right, what I am saying is that I would lock the door so no one can enter the house, I would be a better roommate.”

“Sure we do not have to marry to be roommates we can look for suitable places in our price range,”

“Look at this,” Yoon Jeonghan says, fiddling with his phone, “It has four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, the kitchen is great, it has a backyard and a solarium.”

“Fuck-” You say, sitting on the bed, your thigh close enough to his arm that you feel the warmth of his skin, “that’s, that's crazy.”

“I know,” he says turning on the bed and closing his hand on his stomach like he is dead, just staring at the ceiling, “The price is not bad either, one of my clients is trying to sell so he can invest in a new startup so it is not actually in the market right now but will be in a few weeks so-”

“Did you try to get the loan?” You ask, finger still going on his phone looking at different pics of this completely perfect house. All the rooms were big, and with natural light - crazy. The Solarium looked like a thing out of this world. And you could see yourself living there, if you had enough money you could live the dream, but that house was just out of your price range. God, with that garden you could have a dog. Damn.

“I don't want to pay interest to a bank,” Jeonghan almost whines, because he knows how this whole thing works and how he would have to pay the loan and half of the loan because banks are greedy bastards.

“Can I have two bedrooms?”

“What do you need two bedrooms for?” Jeonghan asks, finally looking at you and dropping his i-am-almost-dead act.

“My room, one office,” you explain. You know the office would be the one with two larger windows facing the garden. Oh what a joy - to build a life you would never live, it was indeed one of your favorite hobbies, maybe that’s why you love books so much.

“Ok, I guess. I can make something out of the basement.” Jeonghan replies nonchalantly making you laugh.

Maybe that’s why you two were friends, you had a great time speaking nonsense to one another. You both just kept feeding into whatever fantasy you built, like reality could not touch everything. You and Jeonghan had this weird pattern of just sitting, eating and talking for hours and hours about whatever that had nothing to do with the truth. What would you do if you won the lottery? What would you do when you retire? What would you do if you woke up on a desert island? What would you do if your boss was imprisoned for embezzlement? Ok not the last one, scratch that, this one actually happened.

“I can give you 5% of the price tag, and we can share the loan if it matches my current rent price range, but we need to actually draft something with a lawyer later so we can only sell the house to ourselves, I don’t trust you enough to buy this house without a lawyer on my side.”

“Dude-” Jeonghan jerks on the bed, he sits and turns his body to face you. “Wait, do you hate Laurel that much?”

“Yoon Jeonghan, do you want a marriage to up your credit score or what? I paid my student loans in record time, the banks love me.”

“I don’t know if you are joking or not,” He tells you.

"Can you call room service?" You ask heading to the bathroom, while you tie your hair - like you are preparing yourself for a dire work task - maybe talk to a translator about a deadline, they are worse than writers, "I think we will need more alcohol."

"Wait," you hear Jeonghan's voice echo through the door, "are we actually gonna do it?"

You are joking.

And you know Jeonghan was too. With the years of knowing him, you knew that the majority of things that left Jeonghan's mouth had a shock value purpose. Induce distress first, we talk about truth later - or never. That made you 100% sure that you would never marry that man. You knew him enough - twelve years, since high school. He knew you as well - he knew all your teenage traumas, all of your romance fiasco, and he met all of your exes.

You would never, never, marry that man.

Right?

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

When you open your eyes and the white ceiling greets you, you can hear yourself groaning almost involuntarily. Your head aches. You know you will regret everything that happened the night before, even though you don't know what actually happened, and what you need to hold yourself accountable for. But you know the taste of a life-changing hangover that has a side dish of regret and a cup of shame to go. But it couldn’t possibly be so bad right?

Ok, maybe moving your body was not the very first thing to do. You try to open your eyes again. Well, at least you were in your own hotel room. Jeonghan is by your side, his arm across your stomach and somehow his face is near your armpit. You try to sniffle yourself, but so far doesn't like you are actually stinky. Your deodorant was doing a great job so far, maybe it actually has a 24-hour action or something like that.

You try to lift yourself up, sitting in the bed, head in hand because everything spins. Oh God help you. Besides the headache you feel sticky and sweaty, and all gross. You can't believe you didn't shower, and if you didn't shower you didn't take your makeup off, and if you didn't take your makeup off you totally threw your 43-day steak of doing your skincare routine. Fuck. Maybe you could just delete the app, or pretend that yesterday never happened. Deal with the blank day that screams how bad you fucked up was not an option though, it would never happen.

“What the fuck did we drink?” You hear Jeonghan's hoarse voice. You take the hands off your eyes, the clarity feels like punching your cornea and brain, and Jeonghan's state is not very different from yours, his shirt is open and ruffled, his arms are shielding his eyes from the light entering the room, his hair is messy and he looks like he needed four days of sleep.

“Fuel? Petrol? Satan spit in a cup?” You answer dropping yourself on the bed again, every joint of your body aches. It is ridiculous how you feel trapped in a 90 years old body, and like that is not enough you feel nauseated beyond words. And every time you can feel and hear Jeonghan breathing it feels like it is piercing your skull, would be rude to ask your friend to stop breathing and just stay completely still? He would understand, right?

“Do you think room service can get us some painkillers?” He groans lifting himself up this time, “Or maybe a gun?”

“Can you call them? I think I will puke if I sit for more than half a minute,” you say, your hand going into your mouth as if it would actually help if the worst-case scenario happened.

“I think I can, the problem is that you need to get me the phone,” Jeonghan tells you groaning between words. His hand points to the object and there is no way in hell you are moving to get that, that would mean you getting up and turning and being alive altogether.

“I can't I told you I gonna puke,” you try to explain how serious your condition - also known as hangover - is.

“It is by your side of the bed" He groans again and yet he sounds just like a petulant child, maybe it is a gift.

“I can't I will puke on the carpet it only makes things worse,” you try again, “or worse I can puke on the bed, you included in the radio of the vomit you know it splashes.”

“Ok, stand still,” Jeonghan says, “don't kick me, I'm doing it for both of us”

And you do as you are told because being still right now is the only thing you can do - even moving your eyeballs seems too much right. So Jeonghan just dropped his body on top of yours, he is also sweaty, and he reeks of alcohol. Damn, he actually smells like gasoline. He picks up the phone and presses a few buttons. His body is still above yours, pressing into you.

“Be quick you are pressing my blade," you say after the surprise of having him against you fazes out.

“What the fuck do you need to pee or vomit? Ah yes, hello,” He says changing his voice in the middle of the sentence from something that says intimacy is a disease to his customer service voice without pausing, “hm do you guys have room service that includes painkillers?” He waits, nodding his head as he hears something before he remembers his on the telephone. “Oh okay, thank you, can you send it? Oh yeah great, yes if you can do that, yes, pancakes, toasts with poached eggs and avocado, coffee hmm” he thinks about it, looks at you, thinks about a second or two, and then adds, “Can you send us four cups of coffee? Thank you.”

Jeonghan finishes the call with a groan leaving his mouth, he places the phone on its holder. But when you think he will get himself off of you he only plops down, his body weight getting heavier. His bones poking your body, what the fuck he was doing with your elbow on your ribcage?

“Jeonghan what the fuck-" You complain, trying to kick your legs in a vain attempt to make your friend move.

“I got us painkillers and food, let me recharge for a bit stop complaining,” Jeonghan says in a dead tone of voice, almost like he is dealing with a kid throwing some type of tantrum - the only thing is that, in this occasion, the child is you and somehow you want to kick his shin, because you are the one right in this situation, and you could totally just plop down in a mall disgusting floor if Yoon Jeonghan was your father too.

“You are heavy!” You try again but somehow Jeonghan is stronger than you think and his body is still over yours like nothing is happening, maybe you are just dehydrated and fucking muscle-less, maybe the yoga wasn’t doing much when you almost killed your liver.

“I am not,” Jeonghan says, now he is the one being the moody child in the supermarket, maybe he will go off without parental supervision. Oh wait, this was Yoon Jeonghan he actually did wander away when he was out about with his parent and ended up three blocks away just because he saw an ice cream truck. Jeonghan was the easiest kid to be kidnapped, you ask yourself how he ended up being safe and sound, and in one piece.

“Just because you are skinny it doesn’t mean you aren’t heavy.” You try again pushing on Jeonghan bony shoulder, even that is pointy. “bones are heavy too, get off of me!”

“You kind of stink," Jeonghan says, his head still lodged in the space between your neck and shoulder.

“Well you asshole you are not better yourself, and you are stinky too and sticky like you showered in bear or something.”

“Maybe I did, I don’t know I can't actually think,” He groans finally trying to lift himself up, “We should shower,” he says sitting on the bed and looking down at you.

“You go first,” both of you say at the same time

You end up going first. Mainly because you needed to pee and you think that once you are up you may as well just use the opportunity to shower otherwise you would just drop dead on the floor and never get up again - you will be stinky and gross forever. Also, you think that if hell breaks loose and Jeonghan actually pukes you at least already used the shower. Back in college, he puked on the sink because it was the closest thing to the door, or whatever poor excuse he came up with, and that scene still haunts you, because somehow the sink was clogged. Ew, you think, finishing peeing and wiping yourself up. You wash your hands and say thank you for your past self because your necessaire is splayed on the counter, you pick up your face wash and head to the shower. Ok, let's deal with it. You need to wash your hair too. You open the register, letting the water hit your foot in an attempt to get just the perfect temperature.

You close and open the registers a few times - to fix the temperature, but you not gonna lie, to make up your mind too. But when you let the water hit your face - in an almost drowning attempt, you know you made the right decision, shower first was the only option. You let the water wash away for a few minutes until you are ready to really start your shower. First step - wash your face. Well, you needed to buy a new face wash this one was in its last few stages of life, you close your eyes and start to rub against your skin, normal, until you few something slightly different on your hand - almost like scratching the skin, you open your eyes and you finally notice, a band on your finger.

You turn your hand and it finally hits you.

It is a ring.

With a big rock.

In your ring finger.

A big damn rock on your ring finger.

“Yoon Jeonghan” you scream in horror.

On the other side of that door, Jeonghan just hears you scream. He actually picks himself up in record time and room towards the bathroom, oh shit did you just fall and hit your head? Did you break the glass of the fancy hotel shower? Are you dying? So without thinking much Jeonghan opens the bathroom door and he just finds you - completely naked and seemly okay, just staring at your own hand.

“What happened?” He asks trying to catch his own breath, maybe he does need to start working out man, he didn’t feel this horrible when he was hitting the gym after shifts, but also he didn’t feel that great either the whole gym rat thing was not his ordeal.

“What did we do?” You ask still in complete horror, not even thinking about how this is the first time Yoon Jeonghan, your friend is seeing you completely naked. 10/10 would not recommend this experience. Not even to Laurel, her satan spit roommate.

“What? Are you going crazy? I thought you fell and opened your skull or something,”

You just look at Jeonghan, dead in his eyes, like the reality is worse than falling in the bathroom, opening your skull and calling the paramedics naked. You just turn your hand to him - like it is enough to make him understand what a dire situation it is. And you swear to god you can almost see the little flakes of light on the bathroom floor, the rock is big enough to shine across the room.

“Did you call me to show me your ring? Couldn’t you wait until you put your clothes on?” Jeonghan asks leaning into the doorway.

“Jeonghan did we-” you say but you feel your own throat closing around itself, it can’t be right?

“Hm?” he asks without a blink of an eye.

“Oh we did, we totally did," you sighed, more to yourself than to Jeonghan.

“No, you are not that crazy,” he claimed. What is that even was supposed to mean? He was crazy enough for it but you the two goody shoes wasn’t?

“Jeonghan check your bank receipt,” you demanded, trying to connect the dots in a way, trying to find a physical proof, maybe you just bought a way too expensive ring for yourself, or maybe it was just impulse buying.

Before you can move Jeonghan almost runs towards the room, you try your best to keep up with him but you are a little behind because for the first time, you actually are aware of how naked you are. You pick up the fluffy bathroom robe - yeah the fancy hotel had its perks.

“Oh fuck” you can hear Jeonghan before you can see him, his phone it’s on his lap, his head is on his head - he is a man defeated.

“Did we?” You try to probe, but your voice sounds weird in your own ears - almost small, and the reality hits you, you are kinda scared. The reality of maybe having fucked up hits you like a trunk, you always been a nice girl, you never fucked up - at least not that bad, what would you mean if you married on a drunk whim?

“I think,” Jeonghan says, his hand on his greasy hair, fuck he needed a shower. “I think we fucked up real bad.”

You sit beside Jeonghan, you both staring at the wall ahead of you in disbelief. You are still gross, but now your damp hair is actually dropping on the bed and you can’t bring yourself to care. The fact that Jeonghan is motionless by your side without uttering a word is what freaks you out more. Jeonghan is not someone who is fazed so easily - his mouth is agape and his eyebrows furred, the ‘i-am-utterly-stressed’ Jeonghan feature is what freaks you out really.

“Ok Hannie,” you breathe softly. “That’s what we are going to do, I am going to shower, then you are going to shower, we gonna eat breakfast, then we are going to return this ring, then we are going to call Joshua, he is a lawyer, right? He probably will know what to do.”

“Joshua is a real estate lawyer,” Jeonghan mutters without blinking.

“Jeonghan focus!” You say getting out of bed, “divorce is a thing we don’t need to stay married.”

You take one of the longest showers in human history. You needed a good shower, but, the majority of the time under the shower you think about how the hell you got so drunk to marry Jeonghan. Some flashes of memory blink on the forefront of your mind every time you blink; a vegas chapel, not an Elvis but an Elton John in front of you, Jeonghan picking one of the most expensive ring in a fancy story. How the fuck fancy jewelry runs for twenty four hours?

Every flash comes with a sharp pain, the fucking headache.

When you get out of the bathroom the breakfast is already in the room. You take a bit of egg and toast just so you can shove coffee down your throat without having to deal with the stomach pain. You search the ring case and don’t find anywhere, maybe it is safe on Jeonghan’s thing, maybe he kept it safe, or you hope so. When you sit on the bed you stare down the ring, it is a beautiful ring and you are pretty sure it is something Jeonghan chose, it is beautiful, but at the same time, it is just too much.

You need to return it, no doubt about it.

You try to take the ring one and somehow it doesn’t even budge. You scoff, what a tricky little thing. So you try again, and again the thing doesn’t move. You can feel the drop in your blood pressure, what the heck? You lost track of the time when Jeonghan opened the bathroom door and you looked at him in shock, you look down at your red and bloated finger.

“This shit is stuck in my finger?” You say trying to take off one final time before just breaking your finger.

“Well, I think this is a good time to tell you,” he starts his voice all weird and over the place, “I kinda fucked up.”

“Jeonghan we are apparently married I already know we fucked everything up.”

“No, I-” Jeonghan begins, his hands now going through his washed hair, still wet and dripping on the floor, “I found a shred receipt and an invoice.”

“What the fuck?” You almost yell in pure knee-jerk reaction.

“I think it is yours now?” Jeonghan shrugs, like it is not a big deal even though you know that this ring is expensive, it must be, it has a giant rock and even though you know close to nothing about jewelry it looks expensive.

“What happened to us?” You question.

“You ask me? You don't remember anything?" Jeonghan says sincerely, and you know it is true. Jeonghan was kind of a prankster, he kinda did push people to its limit, but part of it was just doing fun things but also harmless shit. Like entering the beach at night, or hiding someone’s phone and pretending they did leave in the hotel so they can enjoy the trip without being bombarded by their special someone - read Seungcheol yesterday at lunch.

“Can we call Joshua?”

“I think we can do that later,” Jeonghan checks his watch, “I think it would be wiser just to show up to Seungcheol’s lunch and pretend that mini golf is fun, it would bring suspicious otherwise.”

“Jeonghan we married we didn’t commit a crime,” you say looking at him in disbelief.

“Do you want to deal with Seungcheol’s monologue about us getting married? I don’t think I want to deal with that with a killer hangover after a wedding walk of shame in fucking Las Vegas,” he drops. And God, that really sounds like a nightmare.

“Yeah,” you say looking at the big rock on your thing, “you are right, but we should probably still call Joshua,”

“I told you he is a real state lawyer didn’t I?” He says almost rudely to you, and you want to say that if you two are married both of you said yes it is not like you are the only one responsible for it but you try not to push his buttons.

“And what is your option Jeonghan?”

“I’m thinking about just getting drunk again so I can forget everything that is happening right now.”

What a fucking great idea.

Seungcheol is one of Jeonghan’s closest friends from college. Seungcheol just became your friend because you and Jeonghan were weirdly bound at the hip. You both shared your high school years, and when you two enrolled at the same university you only had two options, pretend you two didn’t know each other, or become conjoined twins. Jeonghan was a business major, you were enrolled in every class that had literature, poetry, or the name of a dead guy on it. But still, you and Seungcheol became great friends even though he is a finance guy. And Seungcheol was the reason you two were on a Vegas trip, the last trip of his life as an unmarried man, he had to make a sketchy deal with his fiancé in order to it to happen but still, according to him, it was worthy.

“Nice shot!” You hear Seungcheol's voice loud, bringing you back to reality. He is clapping as Seokmin - one of his other friends from work hits the ball down the hole.

Seungcheol’s voice, loud and clear, brings you back to reality.

Oh the joys of playing mini golf before lunch, you could spend days and days talking about how much you loved the idea and how every hole seems like a fucking nightmare but you are a married woman. Needless to say this whole situation wasn’t in your 2023 bingo card. You don’t pay attention when it is Jeonghan or Seungcheol’s turn, you wait until you have to put the ball in the hole, it probably takes you double the time, and then it starts again, ad infinitum. At least they are kind enough to not pressure you to perform like Tiger Woods or something.

You think about Jeonghan though. Somehow, he hasn’t changed. Jeonghan was the same Jeonghan you met in high school, of course, he matured and the years turned into baggage, but Jeonghan was still your friend who was playful enough to get married on a whim. Jeonghan was everything you weren’t in a way, somewhat playful and carefree, and still a very practical human being. Jeonghan was mischievous, but yet, not even once, he pushed you until you couldn’t take it, and that makes you think that somehow, with an unknown reason, in your drunk stupor, you wanted to marry Jeonghan, because hell can break loose, the skies can fall, but Jeonghan would never make you do something you did not want to do.

While Jeonghan and Seungcheol are busy hitting those tiny balls Seokmin stops by your side. You like Seokmin, Seokmin is kind, and you constantly think about how he is surviving the finance world, he doesn’t seem cut to it, but somehow he manages to stay alive against the monsters of capitalism, or, worse, he stays alive feed the monsters of capitalism. Ew. Seokmin’s face though seems focused on another thing, he looks in shock and happy at the same time, he probably did the whole hole in less than three shots you think.

“Oh my god,” He almost screams making you jolt in place, in all truth that was pretty much a common occurrence when your day to day involved Seokmin.

“Hm?” You question puzzled, looking at him trying to find a clue of something behind his feature when Jeonghan and Seungcheol finally join the two of you on the sideline.

“What is that?” Seokmin asks and you still without a fucking clue of what he is talking about. “Damn,” he says with his big smile across his face, making the tip of his nose get even more pronounced, “are you guys planning a surprise and I just ruined it?” His face changes in a blink of an eye.

“What surprise?” Jeonghan questions taking a drink of his gatorade like he was in the middle of an excruciating sport and not fucking mini golf after an unsafe amount of alcohol.

“That thing!” Seokmin cheered, and then it downs on you - the big ass ring on your hand, propped on the golf putter, and before you can hide it or chop your hand off the three man in your sight is eying the big damn rock that you forgot about,

“The what?” Seungcheol blurted.

“This is an engagement ring right?” Seokmin asks and you think about an ostrich, putting its head on the ground, you think you can do the same in one of the circuit's holes.

“No, it isn’t, how the hell they are engaged when they aren’t dating?” Seungcheol scoffs, acting like Seokmin is saying something that doesn't make sense, something that happened numerous times before, it could be happening again. It was happening again, at least to Seungcheol.

“We saw that one when we were looking for your fiancée present though,” Seokmin says all pouty and confused, and you think you almost try to defend his point of view as you always do, just because he is cute.

“It isn’t an engagement right?” Seungcheol asks

“It would be weird to be an engagement ring,” Jeonghan acknowledged the absurdity that envelopes the situation that you two are in, you want to try to take off the ring and just throw it across the field of mini golf, but a) it looked extra expensive, b) the three guys didn't even blink looking at your hand.

“Did you buy for aesthetic proposal?” Seokmin asks, "A girl that works with the human resources team did buy one just because she thought it was pretty."

“Of course,” Seungcheol claps, “I mean fashion was never your strong suit,” He says and it almost feels like a jab, “I almost brought that one, Jeonghan was dead set on this, saying it was the ring, but it was a bit on the expensive side”

“How expensive are we talking about?” You try to pry your body from reacting physically to the fact that Jeonghan shredded a fucking invoice and receipt, and the fact that even Seungcheol - the guy who buys twelves tumblers just because it was cute and ends up giving them away finds that expensive sets a new parameter of money waste.

“You didn’t check the price?" Seokmin asks, when you remain silent he continues, “Wow be you must be nice, balling and shit."

“How expensive are we talking about Seungcheol?” You try again, "Seokmin?" If you can’t return this damn thing at least you can try to sell it later. If you can’t find someone who can buy this you can sell for those weird and sketchy stores but you need to know how much you are actually losing on the deal, well, not you, Jeonghan but still, if you know the man he will just accept his fate and never move a muscle to deal with this ring situation.

“You really didn't check the price hun?” Seungcheol questions raising his eyebrow, like he always did when he couldn’t quite believe in you and it always made you feel angry with him. It was a tale almost, even when you were telling the truth he always raised that eyebrow questioning you, making you explain yourself.

“I brought the ring,” Jeonghan says nonchalantly like he is saying that he brought the bread on his way home. Jeonghan had this thing, a completely loath to let other people know his truest feelings. Even if he was one step away from a panic attack he would not tell you.

“Why would you do that?” Seungcheol asks again his voice is two tones higher, and you feel like he is questioning the two of you, and in his own mind he is the bad cop in the situation - Seungcheol liked that type of shit, and you think that maybe he is so into that because Jeonghan is his polar opposite, never giving Seungcheol a reaction.

“I told you I thought it was a beautiful ring man,” Jeonghan deadpans and take his fingers to move his bangs out of his eyes - making him look like a fucking prick, looking down at everyone else, and you know that just tickles something in Seungcheol. “What I am trying to say,” Jeonghan tries again, “is that the ring It is not an engagement ring because I didn’t ask her to marry me yet,” Jeonghan says walking by your side and enveloping your shoulder in an awkward hug. “I just confessed my feelings, it might be over the top a bit but you guys know I just had my eye on the ring.”

“Dude! Finally!” Seokmin says hugging Jeonghan, and you almost feel yourself choking on air.

When Jeonghan is free he whispers against your ear, his breath on your skin making you shrink, “Just bear with it.”

“What?” Seungcheol asks “Out of nowhere, you confessed your feelings? With an engagement ring?”

“Not an engagement ring Seungcheol we won't crash your wedding, relax,” Jeonghan says again, rolling his eyes.

“How much it was?” You try again dead set on finding out how much that was, apparently a new hyper-fixation.

“Babe,” Jeonghan says looking at you with a mischievous smile across his face, “it is not polite to talk about the price tag”

“What the hell I am watching right now?” Seungcheol bristled, more in anger than in frustration.

“It was long overdue really,” Seokmin gushed, in a terrible contrast to Seungcheol’s features, his voice is loud and his big smile stretches across his face, “I thought it was so fucking weird you two sharing a hotel room with the excuse of saving money, like we know Jeonghan has money,” Seokmin points to the ring, making your skin crawl.

“We are returning this,” you tell Jeonghan, your voice low while elbowing his ribs.

“Baby I told you,” Jeonghan appealed, grabbing your shoulder “We can’t do that”

“Like I personally found you guys always so weird like, I think I even asked Seungcheol if you guys were married in the past because you guys are really,” he moves his hands in a weird move in a way to mean how close you always had been, “like truly crazy and then I asked Seungcheol and he was like it is never gonna happen and I was like-"

And Seokmin goes on for about a good five minutes about how he thought the two of you were a couple, and in a way, you were so used to it that it didn't even startle you. The problem was that Seokmin truly believed Jeonghan’s lies, one thing was to think that you two were in a relationship - everyone had this basic reaction since the two were in college, even one of Jeonghan’s ex-girlfriend thought of, one of your coworkers too, Jeonghan’s door to door neighbors too, almost every single soul you two met. That alone was something you began to understand, yeah you and Jeonghan had a weird level of intimacy.

If you mash together your college years you can sum up in - of course, we do not date, of course, you can go ahead and kiss him in this horrible pub, oh yeas I am living in his dorm at ungodly hours just because we decided to binge watch a docuseries, oh if I am wearing Jeonghan's clothes? Haha He saved my ass because I doped the coffee on my clothes - ps. The coffee didn't exist, and his girlfriend did break things up a week later, Jeonghan swore it wasn't because of you. Once one guy broke up with you because when he smelled you he could recognize Jeonghan's smell on you, Jeonghan toke as his duty to just fuck up with that guy's mind for a whole month. He told you over and over again that the guy was wrong and basically called you a cheater, so you might as well plant enough evidence to give them the mental image - Jeonghan planted underwear on said guy's returning box, a note with his own handwriting with meet me in secret at the library, and even brought you a small dog plushie to put in the box and when you asked why he said 'he will think another guy gave you a present'.

Knowing Jeonghan and the fact that he loved shocking people this whole act today didn't really shock you, in the end, you were the only that understand Jeonghan, because you would never ever fall for this weird ass act. Your default reaction to anything Jeonghan related was a fair amount of mistrust.

“What are you two doing?” Seungcheol asks again, his voice is laced with suspicion and mistrust.

“Doing what?” Jeonghan asks, his hand going to your hair and placing it behind your ear.

“Whatever you guys are doing,” Seungcheol says pointing his fingers at the both of you, and you think it is dumb to even pretend something to Seungcheol, he knows you, he knows Jeonghan he knows nothing like that would even happen and you still don't know why Jeonghan is even trying to lie to him.

“Jeonghan-” you whine, marrying in Vegas is indeed something that brings you shame and regret but lying to your friends is even worse, how would you deal with that later?

You think you would prefer listening to Seungcheol’s monologue about how both of you are completely crazy, unreasonable, and unreliable, all of that rings true now. And it was Seungcheol, he would end up knowing somehow, even if you didn’t tell him now, you both would end up telling him. This whole scheme would fall like a house of cards somehow. You couldn't knock on Seungcheol door and say haha we were kidding, but Jeonghan could, you would make him do it.

“Seungcheol that’s actually-”

“What are we supposed to believe that after what? A decade you just woke up brought a ring and confessed your feelings?” Seungcheol asks, raising his voice enough to make you look around the damn mini golf to see if anyone is insane enough to care about this damn scene, “When you are a commitment phobe who has been on my ass for the past several months?”

“Look man, can you just drop it?” Jeonghan asks again - in the same aloof way he uses when he wants to piss you off, almost like he is flirting with the idea of being a patronizing prick.

“Of course not, what the hell,” Seungcheol says, his tone still on the angrier side “You didn’t even remotely tell us about this."

“Yeah well some people can actually keep secret,” Jeonghan says bitterly.

“What was that supposed to mean?” Seungcheol questions and just by the tone of his voice you know that shit is going down, you have seen countless fights between the two to know that Seungcheol was on the edge.

“It means that I can actually keep my individuality as a human being because I don’t have a crazy girlfriend who has trust issues so I need to overshare everyone’s personal life because she thinks you can cheat on her every monday to friday man,” Jeonghan quipped. He was not the one who loved to fight, Jeonghan was actually someone who would just shrug and resolve the situation later when it came back to bite his ass, but damn when he wanted to fight he was ready for it.

“Damn,” Seokmin breathed.

“What the fuck Jeonghan,” You and Seungcheol say at the same time, both in disbelief.

“It is the truth, isn't it?” Jeonghan chastised, “Dude you are traveling with friends and somehow the whole lunch was about how your girlfriend was pissed that you actually brought a ring to placate how angry she was."

“Jeonghan stop talking.” you plead, holding his arms trying to get his attention, to make him stop before things end up in a point of no return.

“Why?” Jeonghan asks you this time, eyes focused on you and not Seungcheol.

“Because you are being a fucking asshole now,” you say “This is Seungcheol bachelor’s party the man is getting married,” you try again like Seungcheol is not in the room.

“Oh you think I don’t know about that?" He says exasperated, "We are in Vegas and this motherfucker drink one beer and told us to go to our own hotel yesterday so we needed to get drunk and-”

“Jeonghan,” you say again almost like a kid tugging Jeonghan's by his shirt sleeve.

“We are in fucking Vegas and we didn’t visit one strip club and we are playing mini golf that something off about this whole trip,” Jeonghan says loudly chuckling at his own words.

“Are you seriously right now? You are going on a tirade against your friend because he doesn’t take you to strip clubs?” It is your time to act in disbelief - strip club? Seriously?

“Maybe if we were at a strip club yesterday,” Jeonghan says eying you.

“You know what?” Seungcheol speaks up. “Fuck you, you are uninvited by the way, you go on and on about how you don’t think I should marry, well, then you don’t need to show up.”

You and Jeonghan are left side by side on the mini golf field. Standing there while the world still moving around. You want to break out in laughter, you want to just laugh at how the two of your friends seem to wake up on the wrong foot, you want to knock Jeonghan's head off his shoulder, but you end up just walking to return to the damn golf club.

The whole way to the hotel you and Jeonghan spend in complete silence, not one uttering a single word.

And apparently - now you are the one that wants to start a fight out of nowhere. You are the one that wants to scream about how Jeonghan was being an unreasonable asshole. You try to wrap your head around his reasons, about why he would act like that and nothing that comes up in your own brain seems right.

So when you both are back in the hotel room - now with new sheets thank god, and less alcohol smell you just ask in the most nonsubtle way you can, you hold your own waist and ask like he was a teenager throwing a rude tantrum, “What was that?”

“What?” Jeonghan asks taking his time to take off his jewelry, watch the first thing, and later necklace, if he had any bracelet would be the third step of his routine.

“The whole Seungcheol marriage thing?”

“Well, you don’t have to deal with him drunk every Friday night telling you how overwhelmed and how he feels trapped since they set the wedding date,” Jeonghan says shrugging.

“You told me he was going on and on about how great marriage is,” you say sitting on the bed, trying to understand all the things you apparently didn't know about Jeonghan and Seungcheol.

“Yeah, he has his own list of cons in his note app," Jeonghan huffs, "every time he thinks about calling it off, I think I just memorized it because he reads more than once a day”

“Fuck,” you say in a breath. In your own mind, Seungcheol not even once doubted his choice to get married, not even once seemed unsure of his decision.

“I was the one that said Vegas," Jeonghan says sitting on your side, both of you looking at the widow that faces a fucking parking lot, "I thought that he would get drunk enough to actually mess everything up because he can’t do sober, and by mess everything up I mean breaking up with his crazy girlfriend."

“Yeah, still, you didn’t need to be a fucking asshole,” you say seriously this time trying to face him.

“Well, I panicked ok?" Jeonghan finally breaks, "I wasn’t going to tell that man who is having a daily mental breakdown that we married in fucking Vegas.”

“I mean, I don't know about you but I think your friendship with Seungcheol is more important than being lectured because you married in Vegas, Hannie,” you tell him softly, patting his thigh.

“Well,” Jeonghan says, letting his hand on top of yours, “I guess I can't be gracious always,” he says with a sad smile.

“I know you are stressed out," You say calmly, "but you lashed out at Seungcheol and it wasn't great,”

“The fuck you are defending him for?” Jeonghan says standing up and pretending he is searching for something in that damn room.

“Are you serious?”

“What?" Jeonghan chuckles, "he can go on and on about how I am a commitment-phobe type of guy who is fucked up enough to not have a fiancée like him and it is all good and fun and games? But when I call out his fucking weird relationship I am the bad guy?”

“Jeonghan,” You try but before you can even finish he cuts you.

“No, don't Jeonghan me, the fuck,” he retorted, “you have the excuse of not knowing because I don't tell you, you could think I am an asshole and a horrible boyfriend because every time someone breaks up with me even though I am a great catch,” he laughs bitterly, “You can do that, Seungcheol can't do that, he doesn't have an excuse, he knows why.”

“I never ever think about you like that,” you say sincerely because it is the truth, never once have you thought about Jeonghan being afraid of commitment or being a shit asshole. You always thought about how every girlfriend of his always looked and sounded more in love with him than the other way around, but that wasn't exactly a character flaw.

“I know,” he says already sounding exhausted.

“No I don't think you do,” you say sternly, “like it never crossed my mind really, I always thought about how they were crazy for letting you go, so what you don't want to marry someone? the fuck you can still have a great life and a great relationship with someone without a ring, and I know you are capable of it," and to your own ears you sound almost bitter, how they could be so dumb? To have a chance to have Jeonghan and let him go? “You have always been there for me, you never once wavered, I have no reason to ever think of you in that light and I don't think Seungcheol is being fair, he wasn't, but he is getting married in three weeks Han.”

“Yeah and I am telling him his girlfriend has been a freak since week two when she threw a fit because she was jealous of you,” Jeonghan says shocking you, "because according to her own crazy brain, you are way too close to men so who knows what you will do when she turns her back."

“Of me?” You say pointing at yourself, “Damn, she is crazy."

“That’s what I am trying to tell him, and he isn't fuck listening I guess.”

The whole afternoon you think about Jeonghan.

You think about him when he is lying in the bed on his cellphone, and you continuously think about him when you find him napping in the same bed. You think about everything you don't know about your friend, and you think about everything he doesn’t share with you, that he chooses not to. And you know every single human has secrets, and there are things Jeonghan doesn't know about you too. But knowing that it is one thing, dealing with the emotions that come with it is another thing altogether. Why he would not tell you? Why he would tell Seungcheol?

Those questions live in your brain, rattling and making sounds every time they crash against your skull. You think about your friendship as well. Jeonghan was always there for you. He was there when you had your first heartbreak in the third year of high school, he was there when Mark broke up with you in college, and he was there every step of the way. He was there when you were sick, he was there when your favorite auntie died, he was there when you were panicking before your first job interview, he was there. You just couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that someone would call a man like that a commitment phobe or break up with him.

And what he said was true in some way, Jeonghan never broke up with anyone, he was always the one who was dumped and weirdly okay with it. Every time you talked about someone who didn't know Jeonghan you always painted him as the perfect guy, and it was true - he had a great job and his bank account was crazy even though he worked to the capital devil, he was someone who ha they shit together too, he helped his parent, he helped his friend, his house was never messy.

Every time you broke up with someone you talked about how you wanted a guy just like Jeonghan, nice and fun, but also low maintenance in a way, someone you could just comfortable be being with, without having to try too hard and do too much. And every time you met someone new, you always trusted Jeonghan's opinion, if he vetoed someone he had his reasons, like the weird guy that two months later was on the news because he emptied someone's bank account because they let their bank account info saved on the computer or something like that.

If you thought about it - really being married to Jeonghan was not even close to the worst thing that happened to you. Founding a dead rat once in the subway was worse, or that time when you found out that your roommate left the door open for weeks before you just never went to sleep before her just so you could make sure to close the door, and 95% of the time she didn't close the fucking door, that was worse than being married to Jeonghan.

“The fuck?” Jeonghan groans.

“What?”

“Apparently I messaged my account manager our marriage certificate asking if he could officialize the house-buying proposal, and apparently the bank green flaged it? The owner needs to accept the proposal of course, and it may take a while but-" Jeonghan stops halfway, almost like zooming out, staring at the wall ahead of him.

“I guess you are soon to be a house owner?” You question bringing Jeonghan back to reality.

“No, no-"

“Seriously if it is something that is helping you I don't mind, we can come back to Vegas a few weeks after the deal to annul it I looked up online it is not that hard we just need the documentation and the wedding certificate so," and it was true - you did research how to deal with the whole thing, it seemed easy, maybe that's why they actually let people marry crazy drunk, so they can pay to annul it and the city double the revenue, apparently crazy amount of drinking and casinos were not paying the bill.

“About that,” Jeonghan says, his hands tugging the sides of his hair.

“About what?” You ask.

"The wedding certificate,” he says, finally looking at you, his eyes big and still puffy because of his nap, “I think, I mean- I am pretty sure it is shredded with the receipt and invoice."

“What the fuck Jeonghan?” You shout, oh man, you are going to kill this man. The image is already on your head - jumping on that very same bed like a crazy woman and kicking him before you just kill him with your bare hands.

“I know,” he says almost in a grunt, laying down like a starfish.

“Why did you shred everything up for god's sake," you say almost stopping on the floor.

“I don't know okay?" Jeonghan says, sitting on the bed now, his cellphone forgotten, "Why did we marry? Can you answer that?”

“OOh," you huff, "We did get married, but I am soon to be a window if I don't kill in the next five minutes I swear to god”

“Wait, what changed if it is helping me?” Jeonghan says, back to his mischievous self, with a small smile across his face almost finding endearing the way that you try to threaten his life.

“You are making everything argh-” You are losing your damn mind and if you end up crazy it is Jeonghan's fault, now that he is indeed your husband has another tingle to you like a thriller movie, but you are afraid you are in your own Cameron Diaz Ashton Kutcher low budget 00's movie. Maybe you should take the whole thriller movie, it seems, weirdly, less weird. "First we cannot return this ring now I have to find someone who wants to buy it without documentation so everyone will think this shit is totally fake, I mean I would too, don't get me wrong I wouldn't trust myself either with this jewelry," you go off - almost missing the point, rambling really, before you get back to the point, "now we need to find a second copy of this certificate I swear to god we could just go to the nearest courtroom and annul the wedding I googled it."

"I already told you you can keep the ring," Jeonghan says - voice low in contrast to your high-pitched complaints.

"Why would I keep this ring Jeonghan?" You question, it sounds weird in your own ears.

The truth is, you did love the ring, it is a beautiful ring but the truth is - you can't keep it. It shouldn't be yours to keep. It should go to someone Jeonghan wants to actually marry, even though you can't bring yourself to take it off your finger, even though you didn't even try to take it off after this morning.

And a breath almost gets locked in your throat. Why? You think, and deep down you know you have your answer but you just shove everything down when you hear Jeonghan's voice, "Well If you sell it I won't take the money."

"I can just pour it into my savings accounts," you say petulantly.

"The fuck," Jeonghan bites back.

"What? You said you didn't want it so I can keep the money," You try your best to sound even close to someone somewhat rational in this matter.

"It is a present you can't sell a present," Jeonghan though, never has a problem looking like he is saying the most rational thing ever even when it doesn't make any sense.

"I totally can," you bite back trying to hold your ground just out of pure spite. He didn't accept that cursed ring which is not even supposed to be yours why the hell he is making such a big deal of you selling or throwing it in the sea?

"You can't," Jeonghan says again, and you think back to your friendship and a lot of times it was like that - a lot of things without proper explanations.

"Why not?" So you just hold your ground - again, he will not win this one, this time he will have to explain.

"Because it is a present I picked up for you. I actually thought about it, I mean before drinking buying apparently, but I thought it would suit you" Jeonghan says, "Just don't sell, if you don't want to use it okay fine but just, just don't sell it, don't hurt a man's pride like that,"

You want to try again - to say you will sell this damn ring if you go to the store and it can't be returned, and you want to say you will throw it on the nearest river because Las Vegas is indeed very far from the sea. You want to push him until he says okay I take the damn ring and I will hold onto it and pass it through generations. But when Jeonghan speaks and he sounds so tired and so hurt you just give up and lock yourself in the bathroom pretending to take a shower before leaving this hellhole of a place.

You look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself how the hell everything happened in such a short amount of time. A marriage, a fight, a ring that makes you go crazy. Maybe you are closer to having a breakdown, maybe it is the time to face things that you are trying to keep hidden under the rug. You think that maybe it is time to just downpour everything.

But like always, you don't. You bottle everything up and pretend that everything is fine.

The last few days in Vegas have been less eventful, thanks God. Jeonghan and you go to weird restaurants and for a walk around the town, and you think about how you got married in the city of Sins.

At least it is fitting to think that pride and wrath have something to do with your own stay in this city.

You often think about Seungcheol, sending him and Seokmin a message or two, or a total of 15. Seokmin answers you, Seungcheol doesn't. And you need to hold yourself back when you type down a fuck you but don't send. You try to pry on Jeonghan's end too, but after the third time that he just doesn't answer you with words but just a cold stare you just let it go. Maybe that's why Seungcheol and Jeonghan have been friends for so long - pieces of the same cloth.

The flight back is not that tricky but at the same time when Jeonghan drops you out at your door, you are ready for a 30 minutes shower and drop dead for a whole week. When you open the door you are glad that your roommate at least remembered to close and lock the door. Character development you think, maybe she is getting better, maybe you don't need to actually move into Jeonghan's house as a safety precaution. But something doesn't seem quite right - there is a new sofa in the living room, which isn't exactly a problem, really, your sofa kinda sucked. But when you look again, you understand what is missing.

No, she didn't, she would not be that crazy. You refuse to believe that. You left all your luggage in the middle of the living room and ran to your bed, maybe she put the side table there, of course, maybe she just moved because the new sofa seems bigger. But there is nothing that resembles the side table in your room, so you try again - her room now, still nothing.

You send a message.

You try to call.

So you try the next best thing - call Jeonghan so he can calm you down. He doesn't pick up. You sit on the floor, right beside your luggage, and you refuse to sit down on that sofa, it is pretty it seems comfortable but now is the object that you hate the most. You would prefer, I don't know, to take part in a scientific experiment that might fuck up your brain function than sit down on that thing.

The concept of time and space is a funny thing you think when you lose count of how many minutes or hours you have been staring at the door, it has been probably a long time. Until your roommate opens the door with a big guy by her side, great, all that you needed was an audience for your lash out.

"Oh," she says, big guy with his big hands on her hips and he knows he is not getting laid today, because he sees you and he gets so upright he seems like a fucking power pole, "I didn't know you would be back today."

"Laurel, darling, where is my side table?" You ask without beating around the bush.

"Oh right," she says letting her keys on the counter without fucking locking the door you have never been closer to a have a fucking stroke, you can feel your blood pressure rising, "the sofa was a bit bigger, you know I told you I was thinking about changing and this was on discount, but the table didn't really had a place in the room anymore so I put on marketplace a cute girl come up to pick in the same day, great right?"

You blink once, twice, and the words don't even come, you are so astonished that you are left speechless. Maybe you could get over the unsaid desire of getting murdered by a serial killer, and maybe you could get over the leftover food on the counter, and you could even get over the whole singing in the shower when you are fucking tone-deaf really.

But that. That was one thing you could never get over.

"Are you fucking insane? Are you fucking crazy?" You ask, the big guy taking a step back, "Or do you just have fun being the most self-centered bitch in this part of the country?"

"What the fuck?" She says, and oh god, you want to jump on her bones, you want to leave this woman bald.

"Did you ask Laurel?" You ask again, remaining sitting on the floor because if you pick yourself up you are probably no longer be a first-time offender. "Did you ever think about asking if you could sell, give or even create a fucking bonfire with the wood of my deceased auntie's side table? Did you fucking asked?"

"Oh I didn't know," she says simply. You feel the tears streaming down your face and you don't actually know if it is because of sadness or anger.

"So funny Laurel because I don't even fucking know how you function like a human being because your brain is so fucking empty of common sense really," you bristled, finally getting up and picking up your big backup, "Look I don't know how I don't care really, it is up to you, but you get my table back in perfect state, and you will pay this month rent fully because I am not living with you I would prefer Satan as my roommate really, and you may as well find another roommate because I will not move a muscle to put someone inside this apartment," You say moving past Laurel and the crazy big guy, "and by the way Laurel? I would fucking lock the door today you don't really think about how many insane people leave in this world."

You say finally get out of the apartment.

You don't really stop walking because you are afraid you will just fall on the ground, crying in the middle of the street in the fetal position, not really a pretty picture. You know Jeonghan's house is not really far, a twenty minute walk. You wish you had an epiphany when you see yourself at his door, a moment to say 'wow why am I here?'. But you know yourself enough to know why, you know Jeonghan enough to know why you are at his door.

You know Jeonghan will open the door for you, and you hope deep down that he will hunt Laurel-the-sattan-spit-roommate down.

When Jeonghan opens the door, he looks puzzled, his face shows that he is trying to understand what is happening. You are sure he was ready to say that he didn't order something and to check on his neighbor.

"What happened?" Jeonghan asks when he sees you on his door instead of a lost delivery guy.

"Laurel," you say, and before having the chance to say anything else, you already feel the pain, you don't want to cry but you end up doing that nonetheless. You even hiccup once or twice before you feel Jeonghan's arms against you, enveloping you, making you feel safe.

"What did she do?" Jeonghan tries again, one of his hands still around you, while the other cradles your head, his hand softly stroking your head.

"She sold my side table," you say, still hiccuping your way through the sentence and you feel so fucking dumb, crying in Jeonghan's arms, and you feel Jeonghan's body goes completely rigid before he holds your face in his hands and you almost flinch because you cannot face that man in this state, and second, his hands are cold.

"She sold your side table?" He asks and you just nod, it is the only thing you can do, "The side table?" He tries again just to receive the same reaction, his hands wrap around you, but this time he hugs you tighter, your head smashed against his chest and somehow you find a resemblance of comfort.

Jeonghan takes you to the kitchen, and when you feel his arms release you, you just sink to the ground, your back to the cabinets. Jeonghan hands you a cup of water, and hugs you again, his hands rubbing your back like you are some kind of a toddler, and that alone makes you sniff even more. That motion alone takes you back to your college days when you went back home to your auntie's funeral - Jeonghan drove the whole way, and the only sound inside the car was you crying. Back then you didn't know that Jeonghan lost an important exam so he could drive you back home, later when he was pilled with an ungodly amount of work and told you he needed to do an extra project so he didn't fluke his class you cried all over again - part of it because you felt guilty, part of it was because it was Jeonghan, and you could count on him for anything.

And here he was, years later taking care of you again. You never doubt he would, that alone - the certainty that Jeonghan is in your life should scare you, but it never did. Not now, and not even back in college when Seungcheol joked about every time a new girl showed up alongside Jeonghan. Somehow you knew that Jeonghan would be there if you needed him, if you ever shouted that man would run leaps. The thing was, Jeonghan never told you anything remotely close to make you believe that, he never promised you anything, but Jeonghan actions always reassured you that no matter what, he would be there if you needed him the most.

You think about it how - weirdly - you were never in that position, how you never once was that person to Jeonghan, the person that reassure Jeonghan or be someone he could lean on. There is a deep down desire that you don't quite acknowledge over the years - that you want to be someone important to Jeonghan. Someone as important as Jeonghan is to you.

When you feel you can finally breathe you get out of Jeonghan's hold to go to the bathroom, in a way searching a way to escape your own feelings and thoughts, pretending you just need to wash your face. When you return to the kitchen, Jeonghan is in the same place, sitting on the floor staring at his own hands. Now, calmer, you take the whole scene of the kitchen; the single glass of wine on the counter, the open bottle, Jeonghan's cellphone, and his notebook.

“Were you drinking?” You ask after a while, sitting on his sides and copying his positions - legs stretched and back flushed against the cabinets. The hiccups are still there but they’re less frequent now, and you can finally breathe on your own.

“Yeah I was,” Jeonghan says, stretching his legs and looking at his feet cladded with old socks.

Jeonghan thinks about the minutes before you arrived, how he was just scrolling on his phone and drinking alone because his mood was so dreadful that he didn't want to make anyone suffer in his company. The only person he would subject to a vent session was Seungcheol, so drinking alone was the only answer. The truth is plain and simple really - Jeonghan has been feeling miserable for quite some time now, mainly because even though it pays extremely well his job sucks. He works for and with shitty people, but it pays well, so that should be enough - why it isn't? But all of that seems so fucking small against the feeling of you losing the last physical thing of someone you loved, someone who was so important to you.

“Why were you drinking alone Jeonghan?” You ask, giving his thigh little taps but still looking ahead - you see yourself in the mirror, you are so swollen you can't face the man like that.

“I,” Jeonghan ponders, thinking about if it is the right time to just go on a tangent about how he works sucks, how his best friend isn't talking to him, and how he wants to go back to his high schooler self and just start everything over, even if he fucks everything over is way better than this gray area that he is stuck on. “We can talk about me another time,”

“Just," You breathe deeply, your head almost knocking against the counter door, "do it for me then,” you tell him softly, almost pleading, “tell me so I can take my mind off this shit.”

“I think,” Jeonghan says, “no, scratch that,” he laughs dryly, “I am sure that I am fucking miserable,” he looks at you waiting for your reaction, “and I’ve been miserable for a while, I just fucking hate everything,”

“Han-” you try to say, and you almost feel like you don't have tears anymore, but if you could physically cry you would.

“I am not depressed, don’t worry, I just,” he trails off, “I hate that fucking job and if I have to spend another year there I would probably kill a rich guy, I have a few investments, and I have savings, and I-”

“You should buy the house,” You blurt out, remembering Jeonghan's eyes looking at the pictures of the house.

“What?” Jeonghan says almost choking on nothing.

“You should buy the house, just give me one room and I will pay rent, we can share utilities and food, and then you can quit,” you declared like it was something people just do on a whim, like you are not even having a stroke just thinking about the process of ending your lease contract, but the sky can open you are not sharing another day in that apartment.

“Not a great deal when I have a fucking loan on my name,” Jeonghan bemused, almost laughing at your non-sense.

“Just don’t tell the bank,” you shrug.

“Well,” Jeonghan says, almost like he is trying to assess the situation, see how everything could plan out from different angles.

“Come on, tell me,” You say finally caving into your curiosity, poking Jeonghan with your elbow.

“Tell you what?” Jeonghan asks but you can feel the playful tone in his voice, almost a childlike wonder of being caught doing something he shouldn't do.

“What is the plan?” You whisper - you don't know why but this whole thing seems like a secret, like something Jeonghan doesn't want to see the light of day yet, something he has been keeping under wraps.

“What plan?”

“I know you Jeonghan," You say finally looking at him, a small smile still stretched across his face, "I have known you for quite a while, come on, don’t underestimate me,”

“What are you talking about?” Jeonghan says playing the fool but the smile is still there, making you probe a little bit more.

“I know you, you would never think about quitting without a black plan besides having a few savings and weird investments, tell me,” You almost pleaded, turning your body to him, your hands on his thighs supporting your own weight on him. And you know you need to bring out the big guns - the begging eyes, almost laughing at yourself.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan laughs at you, his head tilting back and all, like you are the most amusing creature ever.

“Come on,” you urge, using your hands on his leg to almost shake him.

“It is not a plan, it is a desire,” he begins, “I’m thinking about sitting down and doing a few design classes, it can be online but,”

“No-” You say surprised, your smile big across your face because you know where this is going.

“Maybe,” he says still leaning on the counter, eyes closed and that infuriating smile still on.

“You can totally do it,” you tell him almost jumping on your place.

“It is not a plan yet,” he explains, in a vain attempt to make you tone down your excitement, but every time he looks at you he thinks he can give you that, soothe your pain with his dreams and hopes that won't really get out of paper. At least today he can do that for you.

“I can help you,” you say, finally changing positions and sitting almost by his feet, facing him, Jeonghan's hand on your ankle.

“How can you help me?” He asks you, squeezing your ankle and you pretend you are going to kick him, but he just holds your ankle and puts it on his lap.

“We can do it,” you say completely seriously because you truly believe he can do it, achieving his teenage dream job. “You know me, I am an army general, I have discipline, and I love a good worksheet, I am an editor,"

“What you being an editor has to do with it?” Jeonghan says while he tickles your feet, making you almost jerk.

"Stop that," you say using your other to nudge him, "I did a few children's books mind you,” you say, using your free hand to pinch Jeonghan's feet in the form of a threat, “I know how to promote things, I know how to deal with due dates and with manufacturers, you just need to sit down after lunch watch your boring ass class like a college student and hand your resignation letter,”

“It is not something that will actually work and be profitable,” Jeonghan huffs.

“Jeonghan, be honest with me,” you say, this time in a more serious tone.

“Okay,” He says, hands leaving your feet and closing together on his stomach.

“Would you ever take that leap with you couldn’t live till 90 years old with the money you have on the back?” You joke, breaking him in half, his laughter resonating in the kitchen.

“No?” He jokes back.

“We are doing it,” you say like his opinion in his own laugh and plans don't actually matter that much, but Jeonghan just smiles back at you - sometimes, he thinks about how you are the only one who can actually match his insanity, the only one that goes with his plan, or come up with even weird ones.

And Jeonghan knows he is fucked, because every time he thinks he can’t love you more you show him that love grows and expands beyond borders. Lately, Jeonghan favorite song is My Love Mine All Mine, and when he looks at you, in his kitchen, face still swollen and red from crying Mitski sings in his ear - Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine Nothing in the world is mine for free But my love, mine, all mine, all mine. It resonates with him, the fact that his love for you is his to carry. And this alone makes Jeonghan happy in a weird way, because he knows how much love you deserve, and he is happy that he is the one that loves you, and he loves you for free.

Even though Jeonghan knows you don’t love him like he does love you he thinks about how you are the only person that is always there for him. Everyone that he knows would make Jeonghan just let it go. Why the fuck he would build a business around children’s toys? Why would he resign and leave a great career that gives enough money and intel to just go around and draw a few rabbits and frogs on a page? Just because of joy? Jeonghan always knew that joy alone could not make you survive on this earth.

But yet you were doing just that. Telling him to drop everything and just try to be happy. Right now Jeonghan could drop on his knee and ask you to marry him if you weren’t legally married and if he wasn’t a fucking coward. Sometimes he hates himself for that, the way he holds onto something he knows it is not quite enough but it is the only thing he can have.

Jeonghan thinks about- everything really, but mostly how joyful you are in your own way. How you would buy sweet treats just for the sake of it, how you had every single first copy of the books you worked on even if they were beaten in the process and almost unreadable. He thinks about the first time you showed up on his door, a big book in hands and a smile across your face, buzzing full of pride because it was your first fucking book and your boss give you one in the very first batch - back then you were just the one that did the toughest job, reviewing everything.

Jeonghan knows he loves you, he knows for quite a while.

Jeonghan knew before the first girlfriend dumped him because he was jealous of you. When his third girlfriend asked him if he liked you he couldn’t even lie, when his fifth girlfriend broke up and for the fifth time, the reason was you he just stopped trying dates altogether.

Jeonghan doesn't remember much of the marriage itself, he remembers bits and pieces of an Elton John in a 70's costume and how the chapel was way hotter, making Jeonghan's armpits wet, not a great look for a groom. But he remembers everything before that - in a less hazed lens. He remembers telling you in the hotel bar how he loved you for quite a while now, and how you looked so shocked - telling him he should quit lying. He swore on his first dog's grave, weirdly that made you believe him. He told you how he hated Mark - your college boyfriend that literature guy who gave you poems that you still keep as presents, he remembers you saying how you would keep every post-it note if Jeonghan wrote them in the future. It was a promise, you said holding your pinkie finger out for him. He remembers buying you the ring, you outside the store because he knew you would think that the chosen ring was too much, too big, too expensive, any ring will do it you told him before letting him inside, but he couldn't do it, he could only choose the prettiest ring for the prettiest girl.

Jeonghan remembers his vow, promising he would take care of you, that he would write love letters for the rest of his life on every special date because you hated presents. And Jeonghan remembers how you two kissed in the chapel, on the uber back to the hotel, in the hotel room - more than you should have, because now it is the only thing he can think about it and you don't fuck remember. Jeonghan thought about running, about changing cities and even country - investments were pretty much the same everywhere in the world really. But the reality was that even if he moved, his love was still his to keep, and he would do that heartedly. He was a coward, but he still had his pride, and if that was the price to pay, then, be It.

“Hey, come here,” He says, finally lifting himself off the ground.

“What?” You ask, looking at him still sitting on the floor.

“Come here,” He says again, giving his hands so you can get up.

“What? You are weird what is going on,” you say finally getting up on your feet.

“Come here,” Jeonghan says and before you approach him his arms are already by your side, enveloping you in a thigh hug. “Thank you,” he says softly, “thank you for everything really,”

“Are you drunk Yoon Jeonghan?” you ask, your own voice muffled by the tight embrace.

“No,” Jeonghan laughs, and you can feel his whole body move, “I’m serious, thank you for being there for me even when you have shit on your own to deal with,” He says, his chin on top of your head, “and thank you for not thinking I am a commitment phobic asshole.”

“You are still on that? I told you I never saw you like that stop being dumb."

“I know, I am just-” Jeonghan doesn't finish his sentence, his arms still around you, his heart beating by your ear.

“Look you are drunk, at least there is nothing much we can fuck up being drunk together after getting married in Vegas," you say and Jeonghan feels a pang, almost like when he stubs his little finger on the corner of random furniture, but he doesn't say anything, "give me a sip of your wine you asshole,” you say getting free of his embrace and holding the bottle of wine

“Come on! Don’t drink it straight from the bottle, there is a glass right there!” Jeonghan protested.

“Come on Yoon Jeonghan, I know you, I know you since you didn’t have enough cups in your first kitchen, don't play the proper guy with me,” you say like basic manners don't exist, and sitting on his counter.

“I grow up I am an adult now,” Jeonghan says, but he doesn't really move a muscle to pick another glass of wine for you, he thinks it is his biggest flaw - the fact that you can walk over him countless times and Yoon Jeonghan will just let you do whatever you want even if he pretends that it is against his will.

“Oh, totally,” You look at him, and even though the phrase itself has a bite to it your voice is honest, “Not to go back to sappy times, but you really did Hannie, you are really growing so much, and I am so proud of you,”

"Shhhh-” Jeonghan murmurs trying to shut you up and you know it is mainly because he is so fucking shy that you almost laugh.

“By the way,” You say taking another sip from the bottle. “I’m so moving in with you and I can even deal with only one room if you don’t sell any of my stuff.”

“Shut up,” Jeonghan says kissing the top of your head, “you can have the whole house, just don’t set it on fire.”

Ultimately, that actually happens.

You actually move with Jeonghan into his dream house. The house is 98% bare, without the furniture of the last owner besides the utilities. But a) it is better than living with your satan-spit roommate, b) Jeonghan has been sleeping on his own couch for over two weeks now because even though you say it is okay you can't spend that time in your own apartment he refuses to let you near Laurel.

But somehow, Jeonghan and you make a home out of the new house. You take the bookshelves on the left, all the books you edited in your lifetime on a special shelf right in your point of view. Jeonghan takes the bookshelves on the right, a lot of the books you edited and gifted him are scattered across it because he doesn’t really care about arranging his shelves in a particular order.

Every time Jeonghan sees a nice piece of furniture he sends you a picture of it, and you two chat about if it fits the room, and the colors would clash. In a weird way your collection of cups and mugs triples the size, indeed you are engrossed with buying new ones, but the thing is - you always pick two of them now. Jeonghan’s favorite is a weird bunny mug that you never actually use because it ears always make drinking anything impractical.

You two also build a weirdly oiled routine. You two eat breakfast together, Jeonghan wakes up early and when he is just arriving for his morning run you are already scrabbling eggs. When Jeonghan is ready for work you are ready for your own run. When Jeonghan arrives from work you still have one hour to go, so in the end he is the one to always cook dinner. After you two share the dishes and eat something sweet as the dessert the kitchen counter - previously used as a dinner table, now acts an officer table.

While Jeonghan looks up some designer classes, you search manufacturers. When he draws a cute rabbit girl that he named Ttoram, you try to understand how a business works, how you file taxes for it? Sometimes Jeonghan does the dirty work himself after he finishes a new version so you get your pink glittery pen and write in post-it what you think about the new product; ‘what is this material arrow-drawing pointing to a specific part of a squish toy’, ‘her head seems big are you sure she won't flop head first in someone’s bed?’, ‘are you sure? I think lamps are quite expensive.

The house gets filled with new art supplies, sometimes Jeonghan orders a bunch of them online, and sometimes you are the one that brings back a single pen or a new colored pencil that you pick up in arts stories every time you go to a meeting. The house is filled with paper and drawings, your favorite ones is always the first drafts - the ones that Jeonghan does on the non-quality paper, the ones that he does on pieces of paper, the ones that look less refined and to you are filled with children-like joy.

Another curious thing is how somehow you and Jeonghan seemed very addicted to post-it. Besides the practical use in the drawing drafts because Jeonghan was an old soul who couldn’t do his work on an Ipad like a normal human being in this day and age, you also used to communicate - ‘please buy eggs!’ you wrote and left on the kitchen door, ‘already set a reminder on my phone so i don’t forget to stop at the market!’ jeonghan replied. “Didn’t see u before I left :( don’t forget to take breaks” he wrote, somehow the post-it ended up in your office, and you glued it on the computer screen beside one green post-it with a frog with a raincoat on.

Every time the fridge was out of space for new ones you took them off one by one, with a smile on your face, and kept them in a box, safely stored. You always noticed one or two missing but you always thought the wind knocked them out and Jeonghan, that traitor, threw them in the garbage. In short, everything stayed the same with a daily dose of domestic life. The problem was - that it didn’t stay the same for very long.

And as hard as it was to admit, it was your fault.

There was no way around it.

It weirdly began every time you saw Jeonghan around the stove. The fact that Jeonghan was beautiful-handsome-pretty was not news to you. You, and every human being that laid eyes on him, always reached the point where you acknowledged how pretty Jeonghan was. In college it was a fucking nightmare, guys and girls banging on his dorm room when you two were watching a movie just because they thought Jeonghan was alone - the fact that he didn’t have a roommate because he bribed someone (one of the most Jeonghan acts that you ever witnessed, but that was beside the point - really) only added to the fact that 87% of his course thought he was down to bang anytime. The truth was that you always knew that Jeonghan was someone objectively good-looking, but there was a catch, even though Jeonghan was beautiful you didn’t really feel attracted to him and he knew that. Countless times you told him he was too pretty for his own good along with the lines that he wasn’t your type, ‘what the fuck that supposed to mean’ he answered the first time you said that, back in high school. With time it turned out to be your standard answer to every girl that was attracted to him and wanted a shot with him but somehow thought he was your boyfriend.

You know that Jeonghan is good-looking, and you know that for fucking years so why are you going a little insane every time you get in the kitchen and the man is cutting some onions? Truly it happens in the weirdest hours, out of nowhere, your brain reminds you how hot Jeonghan is - and that is even scarier because you knew that the man was handsome, but hot? That’s a new development. Once he arrived from his morning run, his hair a little damp, sweat dripping down his neck, and only with a thigh shirt because he already removed his go-to wind-breaker and you almost collapsed on the kitchen floor. That alone was mind-blowing.

The horrors begin when you just couldn’t deal with his touch without your mind going to the fucking gutter. When he touched your hips to make your move because he wanted to open a drawer, or when he dropped down on the sofa without leaving space between your bodies, his hand tapping your thigh. Out of nowhere, you are combusting because his hand feels hot against your skin, goosebumps appearing across your skin Jeonghan asks you if you are cold. And the fact that Jeonghan is touching you isn't necessarily super weird, he always did that, but somehow you feel that his touches changed and you can't quite pinpoint how besides the fact that you are reacting differently.

It doesn't really help your case that Jeonghan develops a weird habit of wrapping his arm around your neck. It happens everywhere, even in public and every time you can feel yourself grow a little hotter. You were supposed to pay attention to Minghao’s new paintings, a designer slash illustrator slash painter whom you worked with for a few book covers, and somehow in the middle of the opening of his new exposition, you can’t even think about the impasto on his oil paintings because Jeonghan hands feels heavy on your neck, his fingers touching the lateral of it almost rubbing. Every time you take a step to try to see the paintings up close Jeonghan doesn’t let you leave his hold, his body close enough to be pressed against your back, half of your back feeling hot because of his presence, half of it feeling cold because of his absence.

“Hao!” You say when you finally see the man of the hour, black hair on black coats, his hands behind his back looking around all the people that came just to appreciate his work.

“Hey,” He says opening his arms for you.

“Congratulations,” you say feeling the arms of Minghao around your back, your body though prefer to pay attention to the weight of Jeonghan’s eyes on you, “everything is mind blowing,” you say to the man - his hands still on your body, yours on his shoulder, until you hear Jeonghan clearing his throat in order to get you to notice his existence, and you almost laugh, “Hao this is Jeonghan, Jeonghan this is Minghao.”

“Great job man,” Jeonghan says in a weird tone, giving Minghao two little pats on the back and taking a step by your side, his hand on your waist.

“Thank you,” Minghao says politely, like he always does, “It is a pleasure to meet you, you are in the book industry too?” Minghao asks with his hands in his pocket,

“No,” Jeonghan almost scoffs, him? and books? God forbid, “I work with investment these type of things,”

“Oh, so you are not in the art business then,” Minghao acknowledges and you know his interest peaked even though you don't know why, maybe because you know Jeonghan so well you don't have much to unfold, while Minghao just seems weirded out by the fact that you have a Wall Street dude by your side.

“Oh Hao you always flatter me when you include me in the art business,” you say jokingly, reminiscing one of the many conversations you had with Minghao over a bottle of wine.

“I told you," a sly smile across his face, "books are a matter of passion.”

“You did,” you say somewhat reminiscing of the talk you two had back then. It was after calling him up for his second cover, after a meeting where he made you go through the book's motifs and ideas so he could have a feeling of what he should focus on.

“You should come to the after party,” Minghao says, “we could catch up,”

“Yeah I don’t think we can,” Jeonghan says while he checks his watch, he knows the question wasn't directed to him, he isn't stupid and he has two eyes, but he also is a stubborn motherfucker and now he just wants to ruin Minghao's night, and he is not about to Banksy this place up with shredded art pieces - because he is afraid his bank account can't take the lawsuit. “I have a work meeting tomorrow morning” Jeonghan reminds you, his fingers still on your waist.

“Still,” Minghao says, looking puzzled by you two, “you can stay right?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” you say sorry “Han is driving us back so-”

“Is your phone number still the same?” Minghao asks without dropping a beat, and Jeonghan can give him that, he doesn't know Minghao but the guy just doesn't quit - he knows a stubborn guy when he sees one.

“Yeah, I didn’t change, but if you need you can e-mail me and-” You say before someone calls Minghao, it is his opening after all, a guy in the suit makes a gesture to him when the three of you look to see who was the owner of the voice.

“Sorry, I have to go, but I will call you," He says before giving you a kiss on the cheeks and walking to the guy who just called him.

Jeonghan snorts, really, what was that? He shouldn't find it so funny but it is. He takes a step back, his hands leaving you, while he looks at the painting. You know he is just pretending to analyze everything.

“What?” You ask him - missing his hand on your waist, on your neck, missing his presence around you.

“Nothing,” he says shaking his head, he is biting back a smile - laughter really, and you want to know what it is so funny, you are curious about what is going on in his head.

“It can’t be nothing come on,” you press on, your hand on his shoulder in a way to get some sort of touch from him, to regain some sort of proximity.

“Just-” Jeonghan stops, in front of another painting, his hand going back to your waist, and at the same time you think you can finally breathe again, your breath feels trapped in your throat, making you swallow on nothing, “You didn’t tell me it was an opening night to your ex-fling," he says. Eyes almost tinkling under the light and you know where this is going.

“Hao isn’t my ex fling what are you talking about?” You pretend, trying to get out of this situation because you know somehow Jeonghan will pry on, and he knows how to push your buttons enough just so you can spill everything he wants to know.

“Not fling then," Jeonghan says, hand still on your waist when he starts walking around the gallery with you by his side, until another painting that he really doesn't really care about, "an one night stand.”

“He is a friend," almost rolling your eyes at him, "I told you, I know him because of work,”

“So you are telling me you guys didn’t fuck?” And even though his words my seem harsh his tone is still light - he was truly a jerk but why are you smiling at him?

“Jeonghan, what the fuck?” You yelped, making Jeonghan's sly smile appear again.

“What?” He asks eyes still on you when you pretend to pay attention to the orange painting in front of you.

“Keep your voice low,” you mouthed, “we didn’t fuck,” you tell him again, and it was the truth, but somehow Jeonghan knew how to read between your words.

“Well,” he began, still looking at you even when he tilted his head to the side, a sly smile still on his face like he could see through you like you couldn't keep anything under wraps, and you could feel the goosebumps on the nape of your neck, your whole body tingling, “I am pretty sure it wasn’t for lacking trying on his part.”

“It would be too messy,” you finally blurt it out.

“Ah of course," Jeonghan laughs again and it almost sounds bitter to you, "so he did try, it was after or before saying the book and passion line?”

“After,” you say, your time to laugh, even though you feel the heat on your skin, a crazy addition to new feels because you are not one to actually feel shy around Jeonghan.

“And you laid him down too gently,” he acknowledges, eyes moving through the room again. You follow his gaze, seeing Minghao watching the both of you across the room, you just greet him with a smile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask him, pressing your body on his sides until his arms are back on you.

“Well," Jeonghan breathes, his eyes still rummaging around the room, "I know you can break a guy's heart but apparently you lost your touch with that one because he is still down to fuck.”

“Jeonghan!” You gasped, “No he isn’t you are seeing things like you always do.” You tell him, Jeonghan had this weird superpower that he tuned in college - he could tell a guy was somehow interested in you from miles away, the first few times you actually made a bet on it; fifteen dollars, to pay him for a meal, to go with him to a frat party that his friend Soonyoung was hosting. After the fifth time, you just learned that was better to trust his judgment on it.

“Oh yeah, it truly takes a mind reader to see a guy ogling you across the room and telling you to show up at the after party even tho you have a guy on your arm," Jeonghan almost scoffs, then he leans down, his mouth close to your ear, "truly, his intention was indeed to talk about the impasto or the lighting or the shadow of his hard-on,”

“Jeonghan” you accuse again slapping his arm playfully, laughing at his antics “If I trusted you my ego would be in the clouds because every walking human being apparently wants to fuck me according to you.”

“Not everyone but a great part of it, sure." He deadpans.

“Sure, apparently you are the only exception who else?”

“I’m not,” Jeonghan deadpans again, just shrugging. Because it is not actually something he tried to hide over the years, it is nothing something that he is ashamed of either. And he is pretty sure it is something you already know since college so he doesn't have to lie about it. Jeonghan might be a coward, but he isn't really a liar.

“What?”

“I tried to get in your pants my whole high school years," He says, his eyes still on the painting, or everything that catches his attention, his eyes are everywhere really but on you. "I just gave up after the few first months of college”

“What the hell?” You try again. Everything feels kind of abnormal in your head. The way that Jeonghan says those words - like he is saying that you two should buy soap the next time you both go do groceries, it freaks you out. How can he be so normal about all of that?

And how could you be so clueless? Everything shifts in your brain - like the earth just changed its axes. He never told you anything closer to this, you are sure of it. You never suspected that Jeonghan liked you back then, or scratch that, that he tried to get in your pants. It seems something so unreal that you are having a hard time wrapping your mind around it - around the idea of a teenager and younger Jeonghan wanting something from you that you never really saw happening.

“What the hell what?” Jeonghan stopped dead on his track, finally looking at you, “You didn’t know that?”

“Of course not,” you say exasperated.

“Oh, I thought you were laying me down gently too,” he added, in the most neutral tone possible, making your head spin a little.

“No, I had no idea,” and it is true. You remember everyone from college who thought you and Jeonghan were a couple back then, everyone who found it weird when you two answered that you were just friends. You remember Seokmin, and you think about Seungcheol's words in Vegas and everything is hazed, a little out of focus. “Why did you give up tho?” You ask him.

“I just,” he says still looking forward and avoiding your eyes like the plague, “I mean, besides the fact that you got into he is not my type phase I would never kiss that man, the fact that I tried for four years and it didn’t happen led me to believe that never would, so...”

“I needed to make clear to every girl that was falling and tripping over you that I was not your girlfriend, they were pretty sure we were high school sweethearts back then”

“I think everyone we know somehow ends up thinking we are in a relationship,” he says, “I mean, clearly not goth impasto guy because that would be crazy, hitting on a woman with her husband on her side but”

“You need to pick up your husband's game,” you say kidding, while walking around the gallery with him, “I was indeed mistaken to be a single woman today.”

“I should have bought a bigger ring,” Jeonghan groaned, making you laugh, weirdly you still have the big ring on your finger.

“That’s not the answer,” you groaned because the man truly had this weird obsession with this ring and big rocks. You could tell him over and over again how you didn’t care about the ring or the rocks and he still found a way to make sure you were wearing the ring.

“And what is? If I try to be more territorial within the touch department we would be in jail for public indecency,” Jeonghan says low on your ear, his voice mischievously, while his hand presses on your hips, “Should we just go to jail?” Jeonghan asks, his hands trying to go lower heading towards your butt.

“Jeonghan, don’t test me,” you say seriously, your hand holding his and bringing up on your body. Why the fuck didn’t Jeonghan behave like a proper human being? Why your heart is racing against your ribcage? Why you are enjoying this whole thing?

The whole night you can feel Jeonghan’s hand on you in some way, or on your lower back, your neck, fingers on your shoulder, making his presence known somehow. And every time you think you are starting to understand what happened - what Jeonghan said, what that meant, he touches you again and everything gets a bit hazed, taking you to the start again. Should you read into everything that he said to you? Would you be able to deal with it?

Those questions are still going around your brain in the car back home. Home, that alone was something that didn't make sense either. The air in the car is so thick that you think you can't breathe, the fact that Jeonghan's hand is splayed against your thigh doesn't help with the issue. The curiosity gets the best of you - you want to know all the unsaid things, you want to get under his skin and discover everything Jeonghan even wanted.

He doesn't move his hand, he doesn't stroke your skin, his hand is just there. Again, a reminder of some sort, and you almost laugh - silly of him to think that his presence could go unnoticed by you. Jeonghan has always been there on your mind, and lately even more. It makes your mouth go dry. The feeling is back on the pit of your stomach again. What if? You ask yourself, what would have happened if Jeonghan said those things back then? Would the present be different? Would that have washed away all the curiosity about Jeonghan?

Arriving home you go straight to the sofa and plop down in the middle seat, taking your time to take off your high heels, you don’t know why but you still buy pairs with ankle ties - the bane of your existence when it is three hours later and you have a thigh dress on, maybe that’s why you think you hate those types of event, even though you had a great time, saw a few friends and enjoyed the night with Jeonghan, you always ended up tired with a few blisters on your feet. You can hear Jeonghan’s footsteps around the house while you massage your feet and try to ease the tension.

You turn your body so you can stretch your legs on the sofa, the pain on your calves is killing you. You don’t even turn when you feel Jeonghan entering the room, his perfume and the sound of his slippers are enough to make his presence known. It was always like that? Did Jeonghan's presence always engulf you? Did it always make you unable to focus on anything else? Did it always make you question your own sanity? He sits down on the sofa, in the same direction as you, his legs around yours, his front pressed on your back and you hold yourself back because you almost whimper when you feel your body melting against his.

“You’re tense,” Jeonghan says his voice low, his hands pressing the knots on your shoulders.

“I am always tense and stressed out,” you say, and it is the truth. Jeonghan doesn’t need to know that for the last few weeks the fact that he is the number one reason. You almost rub yourself against him, feeling a little bit crazy and hot all over - oh no.

“Hm,” Jeonghan acknowledges. When his fingers close around your neck you almost jump on your seat, his thumbs traveling across the knots of your spine, and you are not strong enough to not whimper this time, “there’s a lot of things you could do to distress.”

“Like what? A guided meditation?” You joke, trying to get away with it, trying to downplay every reaction of your body.

“Fuck those apps,” he mutters under his breath, he is so close you can feel his breath against your nape.

“Yeah right there,” You say when his thumb presses down in a particular knock on your back.

“This one?” You just nod, don’t trust yourself enough to utter a word that doesn’t sound like a humiliated noise. Since when did you turn into a mess in Jeonghan’s hand? But you just accept your fate, feeling how soft your body feels against his. “Can I open this?” Jeonghan asks, his voice so low you barely hear, but he is so close to you that your ears catch his question.

And you still don’t trust yourself, so you nod again. Jeonghan drops the zipper of your dress and takes his time to gather your hair in his hands, and taking them out of his way, letting your locks rest on your shoulder. His fingertips trails the collar of your dress again, and you can feel the goosebumps across your skin and you know Jeonghan can see them as well.

You can feel the way that Jeonghan’s fingertips travel down your spine as he opens the zipper of your dress. And you close your arms around your chest, in order to maintain the dress in place because you can feel how loose the fabric feels against your body after the zip is down. But apparently, Jeonghan is not even close to satisfied because his fingers are tugging the straps of your dress down your arms.

Jeonghan’s fingertips are still on your skin, stroking your arms when you feel his lips against your shoulder. Before you can think about anything your own body reacts before you, giving space so Jeonghan can continue kissing the column of your neck. Everything feels a little surreal, a blur, you can't quite grasp-

Then, your cellphone starts to ring bringing you back to reality.

“Don’t pick up,” Jeonghan tells you, almost like a whisper against your ear, his hands still around your waist - but then your phone rings again and again and reality comes crashing again and again.

And you want to say that you are ok with almost being undressed on Jeonghan’s lap, that it is ok the way his thighs cage you, that it is ok how his hands feel hot against your body and how his lips feel against your neck. But your phone rings again and it must be important so you stretch yourself and try to find your phone inside your bag by feel. When you finally can reach the phone dies, and you can feel Jeonghan’s smile across your skin - like he just won. But before you can drop the phone you feel it ringing again, and when you pick up the big font appears on the screen ‘seungcheol is the best’. You can feel Jeonghan’s hand freeze against your body, the way he just goes rigid.

“Don’t pick up,” He says again but now something is different - his voice is not low.

“It must be something important,” you reasoned, because it is true. You have been trying to get a hold of Seungcheol since before leaving Vegas and yet the man didn't answer you once.

“Just-” Jeonghan tries, and you can feel his squeezing your shoulders again, almost in a silent plea.

“I haven’t talked to him since Vegas, it must be something important,” You say, your own hands going to his in an effort to show him that you understand what he is trying to say.

“Are you truly doing this right now?” Jeonghan asks and when you don't answer him he already knows.

You look at him but Jeonghan just gets up and off the sofa and leaves the room, in the end, you choose to just pick up your phone and answer it with a low “Hey cheol,” so low that Seungcheol asks if you were sleeping.

Seungcheol tells you he wants to meet, to talk about things. And you say yes because why not? You pick yourself up and close your dress. Before going to your room you stop at Jeonghan's door and before you lose all the courage that you have in your body you knock on the door, nothing, and you try again just to hear the sound of the shower across the room when you glue your ear against the door.

When you lie on your bed you don't really can close your eyes. You feel restless, your mind wavering, and you can't stop thinking about Jeonghan.

What would that mean?

If you took that leap would Jeonghan be there if everything fell apart? A shiver runs down your spine because it is the first that the answer would be a no. You ask yourself why now. What made Jeonghan change?

And you can't even look back anymore - you can't even think about your friendship with Jeonghan without it being tinted, his words echoing in your brain, "I just gave up". You play the whole conversation back in your head, almost like an old VHS tape - rewinding and pressing play, trying to see everything in another angle, rewinding, asking yourself what that meant, rewinding, thinking back, rewinding and pressing play - unfolding all the touches, and the times Jeonghan's hand lingered on your body.

You rewind until the sleep gets the best of you when it is already bright outside.

You wake up to the sound of your phone, Seungcheol calling you because he will run a little late, of course, you say while he just laughs because it is so clear that you were sleeping. When you run down the stairs, almost falling on it because your brain isn't functioning yet, you don't find Jeonghan anywhere. When you look at the fridge and there are no new notes, your heart breaks a little.

The coffee that Seungcheol chooses is pretty, and not very crowded, and even though Seungcheol is late is not a big deal, you use the time to go over a few manuscripts and spreadsheets with a cup of coffee on your side. Or at least you try to, but the truth is that you send Jeonghan a few messages and every time your phone pings you need to check if he is the one answering you - it isn't.

When Seungcheol arrives, you see him first, still from afar, his hair is shorter now. You almost laugh because that is definitely not a Seungcheol's choice, nor a haircut. His hair screamed his fiancée's name.

"Hey stranger," he says sitting across from you.

"Hey yourself," you greet him back, almost laughing at how awkward this whole thing is. Seungcheol and you walking around eggshells. Neither you nor Seungcheol wants to start talking about the whole elephant in the room - Yoon Jeonghan.

You ask him about the wedding preparation, it is going nice he says, he was late because he needed one last fit on his suit. His mother nagged over and over about how he shouldn't wear a navy blue suit, his future wife nagged about how it couldn't be black because the whole vibe of the afternoon wedding was different from a night wedding.

"I'm just happy that you guys worked everything out," Seungcheol says after a while, sipping on his coffee.

"Cheol," You try your heart already tugging on your inside.

"No really," he smiles at you, the way he always does - with a fondness you can't quite handle, like after all those years he still sees you like the kid you once were. Someone who didn't really have hold of her life and in a way, after all those years you feel like that again. "I did a lot of thinking," Seungcheol chuckles, "I think that I always have been envious of Jeonghan in a way," he breathes loudly, almost trying to gather up courage, "here I was, with my wedding date set up and still having doubts about how I feel and if I should go on with it." Seungcheol scratches her head almost like he is ashamed to tell you the truth, "And there is my friend, right? I think that the thing I always admired about Jeonghan was how consistent he was, you know me, in that way, we are alike right? We see shine things and we run towards them, a new project, a thing we like, don't even say anything about the golf gear I swear to god," he says abruptly making you laugh, and it was true in that sense you and Seungcheol were very much the same. "But Jeonghan is consistent, that man's mind is a fucking rock," Seungcheol says like a jab and you can understand why, "and yet he is more sure about you than I am about my fiancée really. And he has been sure for years, I still don't know what made him make a move-, he didn't talk to me prior to that, but I am truly happy that you guys figured it out, it took you long enough."

"I don't even know what to say," you breathe, looking at Seungcheol. You can't blurt out the words - physically unable to tell him. You think about what you should say, you should tell him -'we are not together', 'we didn't figure it out'. You want to tell the truth, you want to come clean, but you just can't. "But yeah, he has always been there for me" you laugh a little soulless. It is not a lie either, but it is not the whole truth, Yoon Jeonghan has always been there for you, but now all the other pieces of the puzzle are coming together. "I think the only thing that hurt him was you going on and on about his commitment issues or whatever.

"It's-" Seungcheol breathes, "it wasn't like that. I mean, sure, he can't commit to anyone who isn't you," he shrugs, "I think it was back when you were going out with that lit kid right? god" Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head like he just found a memory in his treasure box, "Jeonghan was so jealous back then," Seungcheol continues, reminiscing, "he would get furious every time that guy would give you a letter, a poem, anything really. I don't know how you didn't catch up on how much he hated that guy's gut if he dissed the poor kid."

"I just thought-" you stop to think about it, "I don't even know what I was thinking back then, but I never once thought it was because of jealousy, he was dating like 3 girls at the same time back then," you tell, felling the bittersweet taste on your mouth.

"Well," Seungcheol takes another sip, "you know Yoon Jeonghan, when he doesn't get what he wants he tends to fuck everything up and push himself to do shit just out of spite. His high school crush and love of his life found her first boyfriend, how do you think he would handle that? What he could do about that? Try to write poems better than Mark? He tried to believe they were all shitty, trying to forget you was the last thing he could do for himself, even that didn't actually work."

And you feel like you are about to go into overdrive.

It is one of your flaws really, you were never one who would react quickly - your brain always trying to assess and digest everything before being able to take a leap. The problem was that you needed to unpack more than ten years, to go through every file of your life with Jeonghan and try to find a new meaning, trying to find a clue, in search of something you don't know yet, but that could make you understand, or realize.

You spend the whole day feeling a weird taste in your mouth.

The thing is, you can't quite pinpoint what are you feeling, you can't really name it. It somehow resembles feeling betrayed, you think, that you have a cheating boyfriend and everyone knows his secret but nobody has the courage to tell you, and when you actually find out you are the last one to know.

You take your time walking around town and even figure out the longest route to Jeonghan's house.

Even that sounded weird rolling off your tongue.

You try again - picking random memories to try to see if you can find a hiding meaning somewhere, a clue, evidence of Jeonghan's feelings. A crush you could understand, something small like an affection with an expiration date you could understand. You could understand the curiosity that grew in the past month.

But Seungcheol's words didn't point to that, Seungcheol's words were actually pointing in the opposite direction of that.

And if you were being honest with yourself, that made you afraid.

“I talked with Seungcheol,” you blurt out when Jeonghan finally arrives.

“Yeah, we are not going there,” Jeonghan says seriously, without looking at you - avoiding you at every cost. It is a tell, a clue that he doesn't want to talk about it. You don't want either, if you could you would never go there again, but you need to, because living things like they are right now, messy and all over the place aren't working.

“Jeonghan,” you groan, “we need to talk about everything that happened in Vegas, his wedding is in a few weeks."

“I think you were there when he said I wasn't invited so I am not really following right now," Jeonghan says his voice stuffy because his head is inside the fridge in search of something, maybe he is just trying to not look at you.

"He told me you are not answering his calls," You tell him, and before Jeonghan says anything he just scoffs and closes the fridge door without taking anything out. He doesn't actually move, but he doesn't look at you either, his head is hanging off his shoulders, and you know Jeonghan so well that you know that nothing will make him move. You know you are not going to win, but yet you press it on, because you are tired of things being left unsaid, of Jeonghan bottling everything out and things ending up being your fault.

"Why are you being so fucking stubborn about this?" You ask watching Jeonghan just shake his head, "he is your best friend."

“Yeah like Seungcheol’s is flawless,” he bites back.

“Jeonghan this is not the point right now-" You start before he cuts you off.

“It is never the point right?” He asks you, finally looking at you, still holding his weight on the counter, "Is never the point, is never the right time, is never them it is always me fucking it up because it is Jeonghan he is not serious, he can take it, you guys can go on and on and god forbid if someone doesn't wanna take more bullshit from you."

“Come one don’t get angry with me,” you plead.

“Of course, right, I can't even get angry," Jeonghan says before he heads to walk out of the kitchen.

"Jeonghan," You almost beg making him stop and look at you, "we really need to talk about everything."

"Talk about everything or for you to be Seungcheol's spokesperson?" He says, and when you don't answer he completes, "Then no, we are not talking”

“Of course, because that will solve everything," you say almost groaning, "he is your best friend for god's sake, he still thinks we are in a somewhat relationship, he wants to talk to you, he feels guilty for being an asshole. He is sorry." You try almost stomping your feet at every word.

"Well, good for him," Jeonghan says like words don't have enough weight to make him care.

"Come on Jeonghan I'm trying here," you whine.

"Trying to do what exactly?" He asks, "Did you ever think about what actually happened since Vegas?" He says finally looking at you, and you feel even worse. He almost laughs when you don't answer. "Okay, I did, I spent every single second thinking about it and I am really fucking tired of thinking about it. I tried to put it through a different lens, I tried to put myself in other people's shoes, I tried to be reasonable and understand everyone, look I really did, and I did a great job understanding that you forgot the whole damn thing, of course, you can forget me telling you that I am head over hills for you sure, you can forget that you were the one who kissed me back then sure, of course it happens, I mean," Jeonghan scoffs, "I understand for years what is a few more months right?"

"Jeonghan-"

"No, let me finish this because somehow it will be my fault again so let me make everything clear," he says - back again looking at every corner around the kitchen but not laying an eye on you; "Seungcheol knows, he always knew about everything, he knows how many girlfriends gave me fucking ultimatum and I always choose you. He knows how many women broke up with me because they knew I was in love with you, sure, everyone in my fucking life knew but you - I understand that too sure," he stops, breathing loudly and you feel the lump around your throat way to thigh, "and he fucking knows that if I could I would've got over this sooner, so yeah, maybe I was too fucking sensitive when my friend act like I was a fucking coward who has commitment issues and would never do anything about it sure, it's my fault great, I can be responsible for that. I can take that sure, I can take Seungcheol, what I can't take is you playing dumb after last night, that I can't take it, and to be fair I don't want to, I don't have to, and you don't have a lot of excuses this time, I guess you remember right? And I think that time I made myself pretty clear so this time you must know right?"

You have been building your life around Jeonghan's for years. In a way, Jeonghan's life and yours were beautifully intricate, to the point that you weren't quite sure where one ended and one began. You think about how would your life be without Jeonghan's presence, and how would your future look like. And that scared the shit out of you.

"And that took you how many years Jeonghan?"

"Don't do that," he says and his voice feels almost small.

"Sure, I am sorry if I'm being fucking selfish right now, but you had your own time to think about everything, right? You have had years to come to your own terms? I'm freaking out here, do you think that's easy for me? Do you think it is easy to think about the aftermath if this goes wrong Jeonghan? Sure I understand that maybe that is your tipping point great, I understand that, but you are my friend and I don't fucking know how we will go on if we fuck everything up," you laugh, "I think we already passed that apparently."

"We didn't fuck it up," Jeonghan says, "Why can't you trust me for once?"

"I do," You say, and it is the truth, you trust Jeonghan with your life, "I do, I am just scared. You took your time to figure everything out, but every time I look back now I think about everything you didn't tell me,"

"I told you everything," Jeonghan says and you can almost feel his desperation, "I was sincere about everything,"

"Now you are just telling lies," you say laughing dryly.

"Sure I didn't tell you everything, but the things I haven't told you are small in comparison."

"The fact that you like me isn't small Jeonghan," you say, and it finally downs on you, that this - his feelings are a huge thing that you can't quite hide.

"What I am trying to say is-" Jeonghan says, finally taking steps and getting closer to you, "I will not go anywhere," you hear him - even though it feels like he is whispering, "even if we fuck up, even if this doesn't work out, I will not go anywhere, if that's what you are afraid of then you have nothing to be afraid. I won't go anywhere because that would kill me more than would hurt you, and even though everyone around me thinks I am a masochist I would prefer not to die."

"I would rather not hurt you," you say and you feel like you could cry, "I am sorry if I ever did."

"You did," Jeonghan says, taking your hand, and holding it firmly like that act alone can show you how serious he is, "but nothing I couldn't take, even If you hurt me again, I can take it, I will take it."

Even if both of you don't want to, things stay a little weird between the two of you for some time. Like both of you are back to being so conscious of each other presence that it is just weird to jump right back at it, or, actually, take a step in another direction. But things fall back into place - more because of Jeonghan’s attitude than yours. He is the one that calls you for dinner, and he is the one that hugs you when you enter the kitchen.

He is the one that is trying to make things not weird. And you love him for it, you just love him, heatedly.

And the thing is, you always loved Jeonghan, but somehow, this kind of love and appreciation feels new and it is so scary, it makes you realize how everything is so fragile. But, at the same time - it makes you curious, it makes you wonder, it makes you act first just to see Jeonghan’s reaction.

Like when Jeonghan’s is whining about something and how he wants to quit his work so bad and you just hug him - almost melting against his back, placing your chin against his should and you can see Jeonghan freeze for a few seconds before he starts to pay attention on the food again.

Or when you start to watch a movie together and Jeonghan just melts in your lap, falling asleep while your hand goes through his hair. The next day when you whine about it he sweats to God he didn't sleep, he was paying attention to the movie, if you want to he can say the whole movie plot and all.

When the first Ttoram prototype arrives you are so excited that when you both place the little bunny on the dinner table, when she flops down - face diving because her head is too big - you are so happy for him that you just hold his face and place a quick kiss on his lips. Jeonghan looking at you wide-eyed. You almost start to laugh before you mutter:

“I told you, her head is too big,” you say trying to place Ttoram upright again.

“It is her charm, her brain is so big that she is dumb,” He says his voice weirdly fond, hands on your body pulling you into him.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” You stare at him - that weird mischievous smile on his lips, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“You should be honored,” Jeonghan says, holding your face almost making you yelp because his hands are so freaking cold, “You are my muse after all.”

And you almost curse him. But the thing is Jeonghan is cute, so will let it pass.

The thing is most of the time you are giggling and kicking your feet at everything Jeonghan does - that crush is so weird because you used to be stronger than that, now you are just falling in all of his antics, and boy doesn't he love it.

He just says the weirdest things out of nowhere just so he can hear your laugh. He holds you every time he has a chance, just pulling you close to hug you. But his favorite part of this new thing is how movie night now is just the two of you starting a movie to just act like a horny teenager.

Jeonghan is always the one who initiates it in a way. Sometimes is just caressing your arm before you start kissing him and licking against his mouth. Sometimes he feels bold enough and places his hand under your hoodie. The details always change but he always ends up with a hard-on and feeling like his younger self.

And it is happening again, his cock is hard, and he can barely hear the movie that is playing on the tv because you are kissing him and he can feel himself melting against the bed, like his whole body is going limp.

It is stronger than him, really. He wants to stay calm and collected but before he knows it he is already a whimpering mess, fingers digging in on your waist, his hips moving on their own, searching for some kind of pressure.

It is such a weird feeling, feeling so boneless and yet, feeling like he is a string - being pulled thigh enough he is about to snap at any minute.

When you break the kiss Jeonghan almost whines but before he can say anything you are already kissing his jaw so he just breathes loudly - accepting everything you want to give him.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask low on Jeonghan’s ears and he almost drop dead right there, like a fucking high schooler, like a teenager who just cum on his pant and drop dead when see a woman naked. And that would be fucking humiliating. He waited for so long he can't just burst a fucking nut in his own pants.

Jeonghan wants to answer you, he wants to say yes and maybe even mutter a please and thank you but somehow his brain is not even working properly, he is beyond dumb. But his dick is hard against his pants and he cannot even think properly - his brain is working overcapacity right now to try to take everything in.

So he does the only thing he can do in the moment - he pulls you into a kiss, and it is messy but Jeonghan doesn’t really care, focusing on the way you taste against his tongue. Jeonghan feels your cold hand against his stomach and he almost jumps at the spot, but you just whimper against his mouth when he does the same thing.

Jeonghan thinks the two of you are beyond niceties - you just told him you want his dick in your mouth, so he lets his desires win, while one of his hands is holding your waist under your shirt, the other one he uses to grope your ass. He squeezes your ass and at the same time, he tries to get your body even closer. You end up with your leg over him, across his hips, Jeonghan with his last functioning neuron takes the chance to shove his hand under your shorts too.

“Han,” you say when you come up for air, hand still splayed across Jeonghan’s body. “Come on,” you try again whining.

“Hm?” Jeonghan questions, his eyes almost closed and his head bent.

“You don’t want to?” You ask, voice low, taking the time that he uses to think about an answer to trail your lips across his neck, sucking at his skin, “I really want to but if you don't that's okay?”

“Hm?” Jeonghan mumbles - for a second he has no idea what are you talking about, his mind focused on how you feel against his hands, the weight of your body against him, how every curve of your body is pressed against his, how you smell and you taste.

“Suck you off,” you say again against his neck, almost petulantly like Jeonghan isn't paying attention, and he really isn't, but you shouldn't blame a man.

“Fuck,” he says almost whimpering.

Jeonghan was never like this - in his life nor in bed. He was never a mess, not to this point. Jeonghan always pretended to be somewhat collected, holding the strings of his life tight enough he could make his own choices, but it was never like that when the topic was you. So when the feeling pools on his belly, a reaction to how your fingers feel against his throat, taking matters into your hands when you grab Jeonghan's chin and maneuver his face in an angle so you can have access to more of his skin.

Jeonghan thinks he can die like this - almost dry-humping your leg. But apparently, you have other plans, your hand tugging at his joggers. Jeonghan's only reaction is to lift his hips, trying to help. It doesn't help much, but it is enough for you to shove your hands under his underwear, making Jeonghan shiver. When your hand finally finds his dick he almost melts, the tip of your things trying to map out everything before you apply pressure on it. He moans softly before closing his eyes.

He wants to be patient and wants to take whatever you give him, but the truth is he can't quite hold back anymore. His hands left your body so he can get hold of your face, kissing you. "Want to see you," he tells you, using all his strength to take one of the straps of your pajamas down. Kissing your shoulders, trying to map your collarbones with his mouth.

When Jeonghan tries to move the strap down your arm you don't budge, shaking your head telling him no, "don't want to stop touching you," and Jeonghan almost short circuit when your hand wraps around him and give his dick a few tugs.

"I know baby," Jeonghan coos, almost delirious out of his mind, his hand holds your wrist and takes out of his cock and the way that you just whine makes him even more desperate. His whole body is limp, almost melting. Jeonghan thinks he might die if he doesn't get naked, but he is too entertained with the view of your boobs in his face.

He knows there is an easier way to do this but fuck it, he is not in his right mind. Instead of taking out your flimsy excuse of a pajama Jeonghan just shoves It down, tugging at the end of the fabric while he kisses your chest. The way that you hold his head is so delicate that makes Jeonghan feel weirdly treasured even if he is completely debauched lapping at your skin. And Jeonghan takes his time, appreciating every inch of your skin

He could spend hours like this, he thinks - almost melting against you, kissing your chest lazily. He drags his tongue across your skin until he can reach your nipple, his hands come up your body until he can grab your boob so he can angle just right before his mouth is back to your body. Jeonghan thinks he can die like that, it would be a good way to go - your fucking tits on his face, your body pressed on his, his hard-on against your thigh, everything feels dizzy. When you shove your chest on Jeonghan's face, holding his face against you, he just takes it because he is so down and so horny that taking it is the only thing he can do.

"Hannie," you call and Jeonghan really just has enough strength to look up at you, without his mouth leaving your chest, "Just let me-" you try to say without much control of your own situation.

It is not like you are in your right mind either. Jeonghan's hands feels warm on your skin, and he holds you so tight that you think about the aftermath of his grip - you should make a mental note to check for marks after this, and that alone makes you tremble. You can only think about how Jeonghan's body feels against yours, how his mouth is still on you, and you want to cry because it is just so good but not enough. You feel you might cry. Or worse, die.

You press Jeonghan down until his back is pressed down on the mattress. And God he is so pretty, it makes you almost feel delirious.

When you sit down on Jeonghan's hips he feels like he is almost dying. Everyone he ever wanted felting very pale in comparison when he lay his eyes on you - hair already a mess, lips red from kissing him, flimsy shirt pooling at your waist. Your hands sneak under his shirt, and he almost laughs, damn he must be looking so dumb right now - feeling and behaving like a fucking virgin while his crush is on his lap, taking her time with him. You lift Jeonghan's shirt, dragging your hands underneath it, almost whining and frustrated when the shirt doesn't stay around his neck. Cute - he thinks, when you pout Jeonghan realizes he said that out loud.

"Just take it off," you whine again, tugging at his shirt.

Jeonghan just nods, holding your hips for leverage until he is sitting upright, holding the back of his shirt and taking it off in record time, before Jeonghan lies down again he feels your hand on his chin, holding him so you can kiss him again. Damn, he is lucky. But before he can think another thought you are pushing him back on the bad again, his hand on your hips.

Your hands travel on his body, caressing him - making him feel so close to losing his mind it is almost ridiculous. When Jeonghan's feels your fingers graze his neck he feels almost delirious, when your hand palms his chest and your digits press against his nipples it Is his time to whine, he almost feels like it is just too much, maybe he is closer than a step away from coming in his pants.

One of your hands is splayed against Jeonghan's stomach when the other one tugs the waistline of his pants, pulling the elastic band and letting it hit against Jeonghan's skin. You shuffle around his hips, sitting on his thighs now and Jeonghan is ready to complain when you tug on his pants again, this time actually getting the cloth to move and get it stopped by Jeonghan's hard-on.

"Baby," Jeonghan mumbles, "that's too much," he tries again, but apparently there is nothing he can say to make you stop - and in all honestly he doesn't want you to.

Jeonghan thinks he will die if he doesn’t get his dick free. Even though he doesn’t want to he takes the hand off your ass so he can take down his joggers, shoving his underwear down at the same time, his other hand still firm on your waist.

When your fingers close against Jeonghan’s shaft he almost sees stars. You give him a few experimental tugs. He feels so breathless, how is that even possible?

You almost scoff, looking at how even his dick is pretty - really, you should complain because it is so unfair. You press your finger on his slit, collecting the drop of precum, and the way that his dick twitch it makes your mouth water, but before you can even complete your thoughts Jeonghan’s hand is holding your face and bringing it down to another kiss.

If it was up to Jeonghan he would kiss you the whole night, but you had other ideas, using one hand to shove him until he is lying again when the other one is still on his dick. He is pretty sure he can feel your taste against your mouth but yet he feels parched. When you start to press kisses on his body, the only thing Jeonghan can do is take it.

Jeonghan thinks you want to wreck him. He feels you press your lips against his nipples, his hips buckling on its own, and you stroke his dick a little bit harder. Jeonghan can barely breathe, yet, without wasting a second you are doing it again - pressing your lips to his other nipple and licking it.

Before he can even wrap his mind around that you start to lick his belly and Jeonghan almost sees stars. He just feels everything, and apparently, your tongue dragging against his skin goes straight to his dick. Jeonghan doesn't know how, but he lifts himself up on his elbows, the view alone could make him cum - you still kissing him, lips on his hips, pressing Jeonghan's dick against his tummy, fingers rubbing his frenulum and he is just so sensitive that he groans before he can hold your hand making you stop.

"Too sensitive?" You ask and why the fuck do you sound so out of it when Jeonghan is being pulled and pushed around the edge?

"A little," Jeonghan answers breathlessly, his tongue dry against his mouth.

"Ok, noted," you say before doing something even worse - placing your lips on the same place before kissing the tip of his dick.

You wrap your lips around Jeonghan can't really control himself, he just pushes his hips slightly so you can take more of him, and god when you moan around him almost makes Jeonghan forget every trace of decency and good bed etiquette. But damn you just look so beautiful sucking his dick, one of your hands digging on his thigh and the other one still wrapped around his dick that it is physically impossible to not thrust his hips up.

"God," Jeonghan says and he sounds so defeated against his own ears, "fuck, you are so pretty," he tries again, looking at you and when he sees you looking up at him, eyes almost twinkling with the praise. And his mind almost snaps - oh, you felt that didn't you? The joy of discovering something every time Jeonghan's hips snapped. He gets it now. It is almost like a power trip. "So pretty, taking my cock," Jeonghan tries again and he almost can feel your moan against his dick before he can hear it.

Every word that Jeonghan mutters makes you take more of his dick into your mouth until he is hitting the back of your throat, god and how he can take that? Your lips around him, your tongue dancing around his dick, the hollowing of yours checks each time you suck him. He is delirious and out of his mind. He tries his best, he really does, but his hips have a mind of its own, and before he knows it he is thrusting up again making you gag around him.

Then your mouth leaves his dick and Jeonghan feels like he is about to collapse, everything just feels so much - the sound, the spit trail, the way your breath is irregular, fanning against his skin - and yet the intensity of feeling nothing makes him mind spin a little bit.

"Come here," Jeonghan mutters trying to catch his own breath. You crawl up his body and Jeonghan can only focus on how messy you look, lips glossy and pink, and he can see the faintest trail of spit on the corner of your lips, he presses his lips there before he drags his fingers on your lips, "I let you suck my cock, can I fuck you now?"

"Please?" You ask back and Jeonghan can feel his dick twitching.

"How do you want me?" Jeonghan says tugging at the bottom of your shorts and he almost laughs when you just shove everything down at once - and he could laugh really, at your desperation but first, he is way worse than you, second you are so pretty that he can't wrap his mind around the fact that everything he conjured up in his mind every time he thought about you when he was lazily stroking himself didn't do you justice.

"You can stay like that," you say, and before Jeonghan can mutter an answer you are already placing your knees on the sides of his hips, his hands automatically going to your waist, his mouth pressing against your collar bones.

One of your hands goes to Jeonghan's jaw, just holding slightly, while the other one wraps around Jeonghan's dick again - and he swears he would say something but his mind goes completely blank when you press your pussy on his dick. Your hips moving to make his cock disappear between your folds, making it drag against your clit, Jeonghan can feel how wet you are and god everything just feels so hot - he feels tight all over, like his muscles are contracting, even the ones he didn't know he had.

"Are you getting off like this?" Jeonghan questions and his only answer is a whine and your hips buckling against him, "Come on baby," Jeonghan tries again, hand now holding your hip, guiding your movements, "I can-" Jeonghan breathes, he doesn't want to say it but, "If you keep going like that, pussy so pretty against my cock, I will cum before I-"

"God," you groan against his shoulder, "can you really?"

"Yeah," Jeonghan almost laugh, his hand grabbing your ass. Of course, he can, he could've come already, but he is dragging this off, he is holding himself back. "Babe," Jeonghan calls you, mouth hot against your neck, "I could've come on your mouth, I'm so hard it is almost painful,"

"Can we-" You almost hiccup, "can we like that" you mumble again, "you can fuck me later," you say and Jeonghan almost sees white.

God, he could cum like that this wasn't even a question, the question was could you? The fact that you were over the edge like him was enough to drive him crazy.

Every time you drag your hips against him Jeonghan's let out a little moan, and he feels so wrecked that he just plants his lips on your neck, sucking at your skin. Jeonghan does not know if it is a reaction or is just because he is losing his mind but he can tell you are getting faster, the rhythm getting a little off, the way you breathe against him, everything just seems too much, and Jeonghan can't take it anymore.

The world stops spinning for a bit - everything just stays still.

Jeonghan is out of it until the sound of your breath brings him back. You are almost pouting. "Did you?" Jeonghan asks, himself breathless too.

"No," You whine and you feel so frustrated that Jeonghan pities you a little bit.

"It's okay," he says - because it is he will take care of it, it's not a problem.

But when Jeonghan looks down he almost cums again. It is so messy. Why there is so much cum? God, he blinks at the view - trying to take everything but mainly you, hovering on his lap.

"Han," You call and Jeonghan is brought back to reality.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, and it is not like he is in control anymore, his mind Is just gone, he just drops his hand - scooping his own cum and placing it own your pussy. You moan so loudly and Jeonghan can feel your desperation, pressing his digits more firmly against your clit, "Like that?" He questions and you can only nod your head, words falling. Jeonghan holds you close to him, your chest against his, your hand still going between your legs, his other hand holding your waits, "Fuck how can you be so hot," he starts going making you feel a light-headed, "I will eat you later okay?" Jeonghan says, "Don't worry, I will eat you out and I will let you fuck me, you just need to tell me what you need."

"Just," You hiccup, "Just like that."

Jeonghan listens to you, even though the position is not the best to his wrist and he could do so much better - but you just keep babbling on and on about how you are almost there, how he just needs to stay like that, how you are feeling so good that he listens to you, how could he not when you are almost coming undone against his fingers?

And then you bring Jeonghan's face up to a kiss, his mind was too focused on his fingers disappearing against your folds to catch on earlier, but you don't seem to mind when you lick against his mouth and finally cum. Jeonghan holds you against his body for a few seconds when he finally hears you groan.

"God I am so sticky," you complain and he finally laughs.

Jeonghan though, keeps his promise and he eats you out after that, and he fucks you too, and then, he just forgets he has his own room.

It is weird how much you two fit each other. And how seamlessly you two turn into boyfriend-girlfriend situations, or legally, husband-wife, but who cares about silly papers really?

Everything is normal really - Jeonghan keeps saying he need just a better Ttoram version before you two start promoting on social media. You two keep sharing dinners, and Jeonghan even makes a point about how the two of you need to go on a date. You bribe him, telling him he needs to call Cheol before the wedding - and he just shrugs and picks his phone up calling his best friend, you almost scream, it was that easy?

You two share everything, you don't know why but Jeonghan just chooses your bed to sleep in, you question him saying you want to sleep on his bed too - it just smells like you, is nice - he says before making a weird noise after face planting one of your pillows.

It comes to the point that you get weirded out when you wake up and he is not on your bed. When you pick yourself up and finally drag your body out of the bed - something weird happens, an unknown voice resonates in your house - okay not yours, Jeonghan's but...

You find Jeonghan in the kitchen, back facing you, sipping a cup of tea with another woman. A very gentle elderly lady, her hair is almost all white, and everything about her screams grandma. She sees you before you can say anything,

"Hi dear," even her voice is gentle.

"Han?" You ask when Jeonghan stares at you, eyes fondly taking up your sleepy self.

"Hey baby, come here," He says opening his arms, "come here Iris was talking about how she was visiting her third grandson can you believe that?"

You could, sure, everything about her screamed grandma in uppercase letters, but what was happening?

"Yes," the old lady answers, "where was I?" she claps before she picks back up again, "See like I was telling you, Aroon's mom is my youngest daughter, and her pregnancy hadn't been the easiest so that's why I couldn't bring the table back," she says and you neck almost snaps, looking at Jeonghan's, he is so proud of himself that you almost scream. "So I'm sorry dear, your husband told me how much it meant to you but I was out of town so-"

God, he looks so proud and so full of himself, he couldn't be happier right now. God, you are so deeply in love with him. You could marry him all over again.

[BONUS SCENE ONE - THE WEDDING}

“Are we doing this for real?” You ask and the world is kinda spinning a little bit, by your side, Jeonghan holds your hand. You both stare at this little chapel, the Elton John one because you said that you would prefer to be married with don't go breaking my heart, Tiny Dancer or even Berry and the Jets as a soundtrack than any of the Elvis’s songs and of course Jeonghan listened, he listened to everything you said. What a fucker, how could you not be in love with this guy? What? Wait-

“Of course, we are doing this, we made a bet,” Jeonghan says still staring at the chapel.

“Only because we made a bet,” you say looking at him. When Jeonghan turns his head to look at you something inside you sings a bit - like a doll with something in the inside broke and jiggling inside.

“Of course darling, only because we made a bet,” Jeonghan says, holding your hand firmly, he smiles at you, and out of nowhere he is running inside the building and you follow him around because why not?

It seemed like a fucking great idea, and you both did lose the bet, even though right now you can't really think straight - how does a bet work? Can both people lose a bet at the same time? You are not totally sure but you guess Jeonghan is right, it can happen.

[BONUS SCENE TWO - BIOGRAPHY]

When Jeonghan finally opens the hotel door you almost fall in the room, but before you fall face flat on the floor Jeonghan's hands save you from breaking your nose.

“Wow, what a gentlemanly husband I have,” You say, tapping his chest.

“Sure, sure, perfect husband material right here,” Jeonghan says pointing at himself the door still open.

“You are,” you gushed, hands on his shoulders searching for some kind of balance, using these high heels shows was so wrong, but you knew at least you would be pretty in your wedding pics, and in the end, that’s all that matters - the pictures for your own autobiography that you will make for your grandchildren. You always told Jeonghan that you would make one for him too, with every single thing he gave you as a safe keep and the collection of pictures you have of him in different times of his life. You have pictures of Jeonghan with his long hair, with his short hair, the time he died it was almost white because he thought it would be so so cool and ended up hating how it fucked up his scalp. You had the material, you had the story, and you could do his biography, the funny thing now it is that his grandchildren could be yours too.

“What are you laughing at?” Jeonghan says, kneeling at your feet and taking your shoes off, wow, a life-saver.

“I just thought about grandchildren,” you squealed in a high-pitched voice that you didn’t know you had until Jeonghan’s hand found your hips.

“Grandchildren?”He asks you softly.

“The biographies,” you say and Jeonghan nods, “I was thinking about how I always pictured us together when we were gray and old in a nursing home together all that jazz, but know that I thought about it, your family will be my family so the grandchild will be the same kids, I won’t do your biography for your grandchildren I will do your biography for my grandchildren as well that changes a lot of things,”

“Like what?” He asks amused

“I don’t know if I want to tell them about the time you were sure to have gonorrhea or something like that”

“I do think we can let this story die with us,”

“wait, now that I am thinking about it like we only have one family," You say, a pouting on your lips, and Jeonghan almost melts, "that means only one visit in the nursing home because like when our family as separate entities we would have two families so two visit yours and mine now that I think about it I think we should divorce

“We are not divorcing," Jeonghan says.

“We can annul It,” you try again.

“We won't do it,” Jeonghan says, shaking his head like you are talking nonsense.

“But two visits are better than one,” You say showing him your fingers and trying to make him understand that two are indeed better than one, boys like girls even sang about this, was Jeonghan dumb?

“I won't have a family if it isn't your family,” Jeonghan says plopping down on the bed.

“Of course you can have a family,” you are sure of it Jeonghan is amazing there is nothing stopping him.

“But I don't want to,” Jeonghan whines looking at you and you get it, you finally get it.

“Damn boy you are crazy about me,” you say laughing, laying on his side.

“Now you are catching up,” Jeonghan says while his arms close around you.

“Still think two is a bigger number”

[BONUS SCENE - SHOULD WE?]

Jeonghan, your husband of three years, is eating on the kitchen counter and you can almost hear the gears in his brain turning and twisting. Sometimes, you think that maybe, Jeonghan is like a toy that he built the week prior, if you pick him up and shake him around you can hear loose parts of him rattling inside of himself.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask while opening the fridge.

“Should we go to Vegas again?” He asks taking a bit of his breakfast.

“Vegas?” you say - your head peaking and your body stretched so you can face him while the fridge door is open.

“I was thinking we should renew our vows,” he says like he is thinking about buying lunch because he cannot bring himself to cook, “you know, I want you to actually remember our wedding.”

#Yoon Jeonghan fic #Yoon Jeonghan fanfic #Yoon Jeonghan imagines #Yoon Jeonghan smut #Jeonghan fic #Jeonghan fanfic #Jeonghan imagines #Jeonghan smut #Seventeen fanfic #Seventeen fic #Seventeen imagines #Seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt fic #svt fanfic #svt smut #svt imagines #t: writting #t: yoon jeonghan

2K notes · View notes

pasteidolons · 2 months ago

Text

COME WHAT MAY - LSM

pairing: lee seokmin x female reader, one-sided hong jisoo x reader members: kim mingyu, yoon jeonghan, choi hansol (vernon), xu minghao, boo seungkwan genre: historical au (early 1900’s)/historical fiction, angst, fluff, warnings: injuries, coarse language, alcohol, smoking, political insurgence, smut (next part, mdni), historical inaccuracies for the sake of plot progression word count: 22.1k summary: you follow hong jisoo to kyoto after a troubling letter sends you spiraling. among the faces of new friends, a bond is formed and fate begins to tightly weave itself around you and lee seokmin.

MASTERLIST || PART II

[ 1909.04.01. Boston, MA ] ‘Josh,

I feel enough time has adequately passed to allow me to write to you. Although, there is not much news from home to tell you of.

The snow is fast disappearing now. I came across an article in the paper the other day about Boston and it said that 14 or 15 years ago bears used to roam around the northern end of the city, but there seems to be nothing around now except the wild fowl, and an uncountable number of deer.

How are your hands now? I know that the winter air dries yours as it does mine. Mine are very cut, so scattered with paper trails that I fear I should bleed ink from all the books that you left me. Have you been able to acquire any more on your travels? I find that the supply you gave me is running rather low now.

You left for Munich enquiring after Daniel Lim if I recall the name correctly, I hope you found him in good health on your arrival. I also hope he does not overwork you, you said as much happened the last you worked under him in London.

I am very pleased to say I am keeping very well, and I trust you are the same. If anything happens, know that I will gladly storm my way across the sea and give your wrongdoers what for.

I miss you. And I hope you return soon, you know I love to hear about your travels.’

A short chuckle to yourself as you pull the pen away from the paper after signing your name, ink stains settling into the grooves of your fingers as you aren’t cautious enough with the writing implement. Short blows over the thin paper as you try to dry the ink as quickly as possible, although this isn’t the sweltering heat of the summer you’re unsurprised the ink hasn't run but so much. Carefully standing from your seat you begin your search around the room for an envelope, fingers brushing over various stacks of papers and novellas lying around your workspace. Eventually you find a weathered, but perfectly usable one underneath a dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre. You address the letter to his newest residence, some boarding house in Germany, but you aren't sure if he is even staying there anymore. If that doesn't work out and one of your letters is stamped “Return to Sender” once more, you’ll just have to wait for him to send you something first. It seems like you are always waiting after Josh. Not that you mind much, you had been as thick as thieves as teenagers and that had hardly ever changed, even after he’d decided to go abroad and study, then go onto some teaching stints wherever the wind blew him.

As you return to your seat you hear gentle meowing outside, head peering over your desk and out of the glass panes into the garden below you spot a small gray and white tabby looking up at you. A sigh escaping your lips as you move to grab your pen once more, beginning to write a post scriptum,

‘p.s. Your lovely feral cat has now decided that I take ownership of her in your absence. Is there a name you prefer I call her?’

You hope he can understand your tone, it’s an issue of yours that the words you write sometimes don't hit their mark. Regardless, you’d send the letter and hear his thoughts on it whenever he has the gaul to write back. You straighten your back from your hunched position and move through the house, your fingers tracing along the smooth walls until you reach the door leading into the garden, it lay nestled in the corner of the kitchen. There’s a faint scratching as you approach, only opening it to find the same tabby waiting for you, it barrels inside once it sees an opportunity.

“You wretch,” tsking as she begins brushing up against your leg. “What am I going to do with you?”

[ 1909.04.30. 今出川, 京都 ] The ground crunches underfoot as Seokmin walks; the pavement, covered with a thin layer of grit from a small windstorm that had picked up an hour or so prior, feels as if it’s shifting as his leather soled shoes move over it. The storm having left its mark and not going to disappear until a rain shower decides to wash it away, he breathes in the particles still floating through the unseasonably balmy weather. A small frown as he fans his jacket, allowing some air to circulate under the thick fabric. Had it not been impolite, he would have shed the garment as soon as he stepped out of the train station only minutes ago. His hand still wrapped around his bag he looks to the signs adorning the tops of businesses along the road. Seokmin was never great at learning hanja, so when it came time for him to begin learning the already different kanji and further hiragana and katakana that would come along with his trip abroad, he thought he might set out to find a tutor during his time here. Hand moving to rummage around the inside of his jacket, he procures a worn letter from its depths. ‘今出川居酒屋,’ it is the only thing foreign to him within the contents of the scripture, the sender had asked to meet him there for lunch on the second day of Seokmin’s arrival to Kyoto.

Seokmin finds the bar after walking a few more blocks, north from the station and hidden away behind a bookstore in a back alley. Before he enters, he pauses. His grip on the letter tightening, the parchment creasing from the increased pressure as the slight tingly pervasiveness of guilt begins to wrack him from the inside out. A look to his left, and then to his right, a ghost of a figure in his peripheral, deterring him from running from the drinkery. It drives him closer, away from an inevitable future and towards the uncertain present.

A haze of smoke blankets the air as he enters, that of tobacco intermingling with the small fire stoking in the back of the bar. It invades his nose rather viciously, itching the back of his throat and causing tears to form in the corners of his eyes as he greets the hostess with a small ‘Hello’ and ‘A table, please.’ She guides him and he settles down at a chabudai towards the front of the building, almost with enough of a view so that he can peer past the two small curtains at the entrance and into the street.

The letter now resting atop the table and his bag by its side, he reaches into his jacket yet again to procure an almost empty pack of cigarettes and a newly bought lighter. He had run out of fluid during his journey across the sea and he thought that buying a new one would be a novel idea to commemorate his trip. Seokmin’s eyes wander around the enclosed space as he scans the faces of the patrons. Most are men but there is the occasional woman mingling among the crowd as well. Cigarette placed on his lips, lighter spewing to life and igniting the end as he takes a deep breath in. Seokmin hates smoking, hates the way it pierces his lungs with its inky black vapors. It leaves his breath smelling awful, but it is just something people do to pass the time, and it calms him if only for a quiet moment. Fingers finding the cigarette, he removes it for a moment, tapping it against a small silver dish atop the table, the ashes pooling at the bottom as he continues to look for someone he hasn’t met yet.

“Did you want to order anything else?” A voice to his right calls out, he jumps slightly before turning, only to find the kimono clad waitress at his side. She sets down a tray of dishes, some foods he recognizes, and some he thinks to be the local cuisine.

“Oh, no thank you.” As his eyes look over the food, he moves to rest his cigarette in the ashtray to come back for later.

The woman gives a short smile and brief nod before speaking again, “Please let me know if you need anything.” Even after she had walked away, Seokmin could feel her eyes lingering on him like a child seeing some sort of marvel for the first time. This is not to say that he thinks that highly of himself, just that he knows that he is an outsider in a foreign place, his accent could tell anyone as much.

“I think she likes you.” A voice speaks up when Seokmin goes to take a bite out of the onigiri on his tray.

Mouth half full and brow furrowed in confusion, Seokmin turns to face wherever the voice had come from, “What did you say?” Chewing his food and swallowing rather harshly, he almost chokes as he thinks he’s going insane after hearing what sounded like Korean. This time it was a man who spoke, he was sitting at another table across from him, a shifty grin on his face. Something about him seemed different from everyone else in the bar, but the man couldn’t quite put a finger on it in this dimly lit room.

“She’s still staring at you.” The other man answers, now standing up and proceeding to walk over to him. “But it’s not like she’s hearing me say that anyway,” He laughs, brushing his hands against the lapels of his jacket.

Now in a better light, the man can get a better view of this stranger. “Are you Korean too?” He asks in his native tongue, feeling much more relieved that the burden of speaking a different language is momentarily sated.

“Did I give myself away that easily?” Another laugh as the man settles down in the seat adjacent. He pauses for a moment, his eyes staring into Seokmin’s as if he’s trying to memorize his facial features. “You wouldn’t happen to be Lee Dokyeom, would you?”

“Seokmin, actually– That’s just a teasing name.” He clears his throat. “I am,” Eyes glancing at the letter still atop the table, Seokmin comes to a realization, “Are you Yoon Jeonghan?”

“I am,” he smiles as he extends his hand. Less practiced with western formality Seokmin looks at the greeting for a moment before raising his own to formally address him, “It’s nice to meet you.” After a moment they drop their hands away from each other, Jeonghan’s gaze shifting to watch the hostess move his food from his old table to the one he now shares with Seokmin. “With an accent like that you must be from the south, Daegu, maybe?”

“Suji, actually.” He returns to his food for a moment, Jeonghan taking this time to also take a few bites from his own bento. “Where did you learn Japanese?”

“Did Jisoo not tell you?” Jisoo is their mutual friend, he’d given Seokmin Jeonghan’s contact information to inquire if he had any availability to tutor him. “I studied with him when we were in college, I moved here a year after we graduated. I had my parents move here once my mother became ill so I could better look after her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Seokmin frowns, shifting as he sets his chopsticks down. The two must have met after Seokmin had left his schooling to return to his family, per their wishes.

A smile, “She made a perfect recovery and even returned home. I, however, am still trying my luck here.” Jeonghan reaches for the porcelain flask of sake the hostess had brought over, pouring himself a small glass then offering one to Seokmin. The younger politely refuses, still not accustomed to the savoriness of the drink, as Jeonghan nods and knocks back his own cup before speaking again. “When can you start classes? We typically meet for an hour or two every day if we can.”

“We?” Seokmin is caught up on the word, he thought these would be private lessons, not an actual class. He leans forward, somewhat anxious at the thought of his abysmal language skills to be put on show for more than one audience member.

“Just a handful of other students from all over the place,” Shoulders shrugging, Jeonghan leans backwards, hands placed atop his knees as he stretches his back. “We have a few Korean and Chinese kids, even a Canadian student as well. Not everyone’s at the same level so you shouldn’t worry too much about it.” He smiles, toothy and carefree as if there wasn’t an unhappy thought that had ever crossed him, Seokmin somewhat resents the uncertain assumption he made. “The schoolhouse isn’t too far away from here actually; did you want to stop by?” Hand motioning towards the doorway, Jeonghan’s head tilts inquisitively.

“I actually have to check in at the hotel I’m staying in, my parents told me to write whenever I arrived and I’ve been putting that off for a while,” A sigh escapes him. Seokmin had been thinking about what to pen for the past day and a half but couldn’t muster the strength to go through with it. He’d left on rocky terms and was expecting to be hounded whenever they responded. “I’ll stop by tomorrow when you have class if that’s alright?”

“Fine by me,” He’s now searching his own pockets, finding a pen and reaching out for the letter near Seokmin. Jeonghan scribbles down something, a few kanji that Seokmin can’t decipher, and hands him the paper back, “Classes start at ten, when you’re in the area just ask someone if they know where this is and they’ll point you in the right direction.”

“Thanks,” Seokmin looks down to the paper, seeing in his periphery that Jeonghan was already on his feet, straightening his jacket as he begins to head over to the waitress.

Seokmin sees him say something but can’t make out what, it’s only when Jeonghan turns to him and speaks that he can ascertain the meaning, “Don’t worry about paying this time, you’ll have to treat me to lunch some other day.” And with that Seokmin finds himself alone once more in the tavern.

[ 1909.04.30. Boston, MA ] The letter had arrived early in the morning, but you had been out in town with your mother attending some group function that you didn't want to be a part of in the first place. So, when you walk into your own little study and see it lying atop your things you race over and tear open the seal adorning it.

‘When I arrived in Munich, my work left me so urgent that I could not write in time before I left again. I thus deferred it to a point where I once again found myself with solid footing. It rains heavily in Seoul today; my travels have taken me here instead of crossing the Atlantic.

Currently I am holding a tutoring position for the American consulate’s son. I expect to hold this position for some time before I return home to Boston.

Tell my mother not to fuss over me too much, if anything I implore her to look after you. Of all people, other than your own family, she knows of the antics you pursue.

I was able to sneak out a few books from Munich, upon my return I swear to you that you will have the greatest library in all America- no, the world, even.

If I were a better artist, or wealthy enough to photograph, I would show you how beautiful my journey across the world has been. Although so much has changed in Seoul since I held my studies here. I cannot help but have the inklings of melancholy eat away as I recall the memories and compare them to what I see now. This will come to pass, I hope.

I hear the boy calling for me now— My writing will have to cease here, I fear. Send my affection to your family, I know they miss me as much as you do.

With all the love I can muster,

x Josh

p.s. I think I have decided to call her Minnie, please refer to her as that accordingly.’

While scattered with his familiarities and humor, the letter seems all too short, all too hurried. Your lips purse as you read over it, brow furrowing as a small knot in your stomach begins to form. Thumb rubbing over the x marking his name the worry only grows ever more prevalent, you pull your eyes away from the words and begin to rummage around for your own writing implements and paper, wanting to respond to him as quickly as possible.

‘Josh,

Your letter left much to be desired. Seoul? Your mother anxiously awaits your return any day now, before you left you said you would only be gone until early May at most. I hope that nothing unsavory has happened, God knows you find yourself in trouble more than any other man I know.

Please let her know that you are safe, I fear that she may follow after you should you be gone any longer. A son should never burden his mother with his absence for an extended period, I can only keep her company for so long before her weariness sets in and she longs to see you.

She also knitted you a pair of gloves, seeing as you left your moth-eaten ones behind. I know the air is growing warmer, but it is somewhat endearing to see how doting she is over you. Please, ease her mind by writing.’

[ 1909.04.30.-1909.04.31. 今出川ホテル, 京都 ] Seokmin eventually finds himself standing at the small entrance of a hotel, the name written in cursive English on a wooden sign above the doorway. Jisoo had recommended the inn, saying that it would be one of the more accepting places to stay at as a foreigner. It has a somewhat Victorian looking façade, contrasting the traditional Japanese styled buildings around it, he wonders why that is as he ascends the handful of steps to the door, struggling ever so slightly while lugging his bag behind him. As the door swings open, he’s greeted by an elderly woman with a rather round face, “Good evening,” she smiles and ushers him inside. “Did you need a room for the night? Or do you have a reservation?”

Mind fogging as he struggles to keep up, “Apologies, my Japanese isn’t—” The stone floor clicking underfoot as he follows her to the main desk.

“Ah, Korean?” It’s accented, but he appreciates it nonetheless. “Do you have a reservation?” Her hands dance along a worn leather book atop the desk, flipping it open as she looks down a list of names, some of those which are crossed out and some of which are not.

“I do,” He nods his head with a short smile, “It should be under Lee.”

Humming as she runs her finger down the list, as her head turns upward it causes Seokmin to return his attention to her, “Mr. Lee Heesung or Mr. Lee Seokmin?”

“Lee Seokmin,” he says, shifting his weight from foot to foot, mentally hitting himself as he should’ve been more specific. Eyes scanning the list, Seokmin takes a short look around the interior of the inn. The space is smaller than he imagined, but rather cozy. A glowing fire going to warm the chill of the night, large armchairs beside it and the largest bookshelf he’s ever seen built around the hearth.

“Wonderful,” She smiles, turning her back to him to find his room key from a small drawer behind the desk. Before she faces him again fully, she shifts through a small stack of papers atop the desk, “This also came for you,” The woman reaches to pull out a thin card from the stack, it has both hangul and kanji printed on it so it was easy to assume it’d come from his homeland.

“Thank you,” He smiles back before taking the telegram and tucking it into his jacket pocket. She hands him the key and he’s off to find his hotel room. It lays up the staircase and down a winding corridor, as he passes by some of the rooms, he can hear the muffled voices of a few of the other patrons, speaking languages he can mildly understand and others that sound alien. Once he finds his room, he’s all too giddy to throw himself onto the bed. Door locked, shoes and suitcase strewn aside he falls onto the plush bed, his eyes watching the ceiling as the weight of sleep begins to take over his vision.

Broken sunlight filters into the room, the shades drawn enough only to allow sharp slants of light to come through. The city outside is bustling whereas the hotel room seems almost vacant of any form of noise, save for the sound of soft breathing as the occupant sleeps. Lee Seokmin continues to snore softly, dreaming of something sweet enough to add a slight curvature to his lips. He rolls in his slumber, the telegram received in the night folding under his weight, unbeknownst to him.

Three swift knocks rouse him from the depths of slumber. He bolts up, raising a hand to run through his hair as a frown of confusing forms on his lips, wiping away whatever essence of his dream remained. “Are you awake?” A voice rings out seconds after the rapping. It’s the woman from the night before, Seokmin was too tired to connect the dots quite yet.

“Yes,” He responds groggily, moving to allocate his footing onto the floor. He hears soft footsteps leading away from his door, he supposes his wakeup call is completed. Rummaging around his wrinkled jacket-pocket he pulls out his timepiece, the clock reveals that it is seven forty-five in the morning, he has two hours before his lessons begin. Letting out a soft groan, he places the watch away and pushes himself onto his feet. His knees creaking and cracking as he rises and stretches out his arms, signaling that his sleep must’ve been docile. Once again, his hand moves to his jacket as he recalls the telegram, now crumpled in the crevasses of his pocket. Seokmin pulls out the card, walking to draw open the shades to allow more reading light in.

“Lee Seokmin,” He mumbles out, reading over the first, short line as the sleep is rubbed from his eyes. ‘Mom and Dad are going to kill you if you continue to ignore them. For my sake, please write. - Seoyeon’

An audible scoff after he’s finished reading, he can almost hear his sister’s tone. Seokmin does care about his family, but his sister is as much on his parents’ side as he is against it, it is a giant rift in their already teetering relationship.

The telegram tossed onto the bed as Seokmin takes off his jacket, he has been avoiding his familial issues for a while now and it seems as if they have come back to bite him in the ass. It isn’t entirely his fault for doing so, his father was never a good listener and Seokmin’s ideas were always pushed asunder.

A few moments later he finds himself in a fresh set of clothes, ready to face the day. In truth, he is dreading his lessons but at least it will provide some relief from thinking about the drama happening back in Suji. His shoes drag along the wooden floor as he steps out of his room, locking it with the small, gilded key behind him. Once in the hallway, his posture straightens as he begins to make his way towards the staircase that would lead him into the main lobby. The crushed emerald, green velvet railing runs under his fingers as he descends, swiftly moving into his pockets once his feet land on the granite tiles splaying out an ocean of deep gray below him.

A thin beam of light shines in through the slit in the door of the entranceway, the windows attached to the door are covered in the same crushed velvet encasing the staircase via curtain. It feels like he is in a black hole with how dimly lit the interior of the building is. Eventually he makes his way through the lobby, past the plumes of smoke belonging to the lackadaisical men resting in overly decadent armchairs smoking out of their kiserus.

Seokmin shuffles his way to the front desk, a younger woman manning it instead of the elderly woman from the night prior. “Can I help you?” Voice sullen sounding, or maybe tired, Seokmin still isn’t awake enough yet to dissect it fully.

Reaching into his pocket, pulling out the letter from Jeonghan with the name of the school, “I’m looking for this?”

The girl leans over the desk, it’s easy to tell the yukata she wears is inhibiting her from her full range of motion. Eyes reading the characters carefully, “Whoever wrote this has awful handwriting,” She mutters under her breath and Seokmin can’t understand it entirely. “It’s about a fifteen-minute walk that way,” Hand raising to motion southward, “When you see the sweets shop you should turn right, and it will be a few buildings down on your right.”

A nod of his head as he thinks he caught most of her instruction. He takes the paper back and tucks it away, thanking her as he makes for the door. The heat greets him with a gentle breeze, an inkling of warmth as to what’s in store for later in the day. Seokmin looks to the sky, to see where the sun is positioned so he is able to gauge the direction he was supposed to go. He sets off, pace not brisk or lax, merely at a stride to absorb what’s around him. It’s still early in the morning, plenty of time before the school day begins to wander the streets for a bit.

The street’s crowded, thinning in places where it seems more residential than not, it reminds him of home. Different feel, different language but it has a strange nostalgic aura about it. A sweetness hitting his nose as he approaches a small wooden building, he can’t read what it is but by the smells emanating from it he supposes that it’s the sweet shop the girl at the hotel had told him to turn at. Head tilting to peer down the street, it looks like nothing of note. As he stands there, presumably looking more confused than the average local, he feels a finger gently tap on his shoulder, “Are you lost?”

The voice comes as a surprise, turning Seokmin on his heels to come face to face with a stranger. Eyes wide as he looks the boy over, “A little bit... I’m looking for,” reaching into his pockets as the other stops him.

“Are you Lee Seokmin?” It seems as if everyone here knew of him before he could introduce himself. Before he can speak, a nod of affirmation rattles through him and the other smiles, “Jeonghan said that we’d be getting a new student in today.” Hand outstretching, Seokmin’s a little more practiced with the greeting now, “My name’s Kim Mingyu, I can show you the way to the school if you want?”

“It’s nice to meet you,” He gives a brief smile before another nod of his head, “I’d really appreciate it.”

[ 1909.05.06. San Francisco, CA ] If anything were to be your downfall, it would be that of your impatience. You’d been sitting down with Josh’s mother, a woman you likened to your own family when the one back home was too involved in her own business, when the news broke. She was kind, offered you tea and as always had the little tin of biscuits you loved when you were a child sitting atop the tea tray, and then graciously divulged to you that her son was currently under police custody in Tokyo when the last you’d heard he’d been in Seoul. It would explain the absence of letters, or inability to write. Upon questioning her further you realize that maybe he was in far greater a circumstance than he left you off thinking.

It isn’t a matter of asking your parents to ship you off to a foreign land, it’s a matter of when and how soon you can leave. The money sitting in the dank vault of your late grandmother’s account had laid in wait for some sort of use, and she had wanted you to use it to fulfill some sort of errant dream of yours after her passing. You couldn’t find it within yourself to touch it, seeing it as too prized and too treasured a thing to take away from for some frivolous means. But your grandmother had liked Joshua, the late one on your father’s side and not the vile one from your mother’s. She had treated him kindly whenever he had stopped by, sometimes even saying that she had wished him her grandson more than the monsters that were your cousins. You think that is reason enough to pull from your funds and splurge on a rescue mission to Japan. There were several people you’d known that had been there before, detailing it as a curious place but had neglected to tell you why; you don’t think of the language or cultural barriers separating you until you’re standing on a pier in San Francisco, waiting for your ship to dock.

The brine of the sea had never settled well in your stomach, salty on your lips and your cheeks as the coastal winds torrent towards you. Your ship doesn’t leave for a while yet but the queasiness felt on the decks of other ships returns to the pit of your stomach with a ghostlike vengeance. Perhaps it is anxiousness that riddles you instead of the fear of the sea.

“Im-a-de-ga-wa Gai-ko-ku-jin Ni-hon-go Ga-kko” words falling from your lips in strange and oblong vowels and consonants that were almost completely incorrect. Joshua had mentioned it in the letter to his mother, detailing that should she not hear from him for another month to contact the school and ask for the aid of a Mr. Jeonghan Yoon, a friend that he’d talked about in passing a few times. Apparently, he is a persuasive sort that would most definitely help him out should the occasion arise. Or so Josh had put it, you aren't really sure what to think of him.

Josh’s mother had insisted that it had been a mix up at customs but a bitter taste in your mouth and gut wrenching feeling in your stomach told you otherwise. He was a rebellious spirit and had probably said a few choice words that had gotten him in trouble, he had said his Japanese wasn’t great but he had learned a handful of colorful phrases from the aforementioned friend in University that could definitely be taken the wrong way by unknowing ears.

If the seas are steady and your luck is good, maybe you can reach him within a month. If not, a week or so longer but you’re not sure if the anticipation of it all would let you, you might jump ship and hope to swim there faster should such a situation arise. Again, impatience being your downfall you can barely stand just watching the large metal steamship land at port and empty its passengers before you were to board.

The air is salty, the gentle spray of foam from the shore landing on your cheeks carefully as you look towards the ship that is to be your dwelling for the next portion of your life. Maybe you shouldn’t have come alone, taken a chaperone or a friend with you, but you were worried, too crunched for time to even entertain the thought as you packed your bags and told your mother you were taking the first train out of town. Your face still stings with the remembrance of the slap she’d given you in her frenzy, calling you something along the lines of a girl too thoughtless to know her role. By no means a heartfelt way to leave her, but your father had said to go, knowing a little more than your mother how much Josh means to you.

Your bags, brown leather and worn from the days when your father was still youthful enough to travel, lay at your feet as the thin paper ticket folds under your grasp. The chatter from the crowds around you mixes in with shouts of vendors and merchants lining the docks over the squalls of seagulls overhead. It’s all too much when your mind is racing with concern, although not too much to deter you from a gentle tapping on your shoulder.

“I think you dropped this?” Deep voice causing you to turn on your heels and face the perpetrator. When you do, you’re greeted with your passport being held out to you and a dimpled smile to go along with a rather dashing face.

“Oh,” Eyebrows raised as you reach out to gingerly take your own booklet from the other, you hadn’t realized its absence since you had thought it stowed away in the depths of your handbag. “Thank you—?” A pause as you wait for an introduction.

“Hansol Choi, or Vernon, whichever is easiest for you,” he nods and then you offer your name before he speaks again. “It was really no problem,” he continues with a smile as he looks down to the bags at your feet, “Did you just get back or are you going somewhere?”

“Well, thank you Mr. Choi.” The innate curiosity of the stranger is mildly perplexing, “I’m off to Tokyo.”

“Tokyo,” his tone faltering as his hand drops down to his side after you begin stowing the passport back away in the small purse slung over your shoulder. “What business is taking you there?”

You pause as you think, it isn’t exactly family troubles or business matters that are taking you across the Pacific, stubbornness, and inability to take your friend for everything he said, more like it. “A friend settled there a little while ago,” a nod after a moment of silence, “it seems that he has gotten himself into a little trouble, so I’m going to make sure everything is alright.” Absentmindedly patting the bag as you can see the other mull it over in his head, “What about you? Are you heading in or out?”

“Out,” The answer is almost immediate, a shift on his feet as he straightens his posture. “I’m heading to Korea; I haven’t seen my family in almost seven years.”

“Seven years?” The most Josh had been gone was the three years he spent studying abroad; you can’t imagine someone gone from your life for that amount of time. “What were you here for?”

“I was staying with a group of missionaries as I went through college,” Hands in his pockets as he turns to the blue horizon overlooking the ocean you are both meant to traverse, “Now that I’ve graduated there’s nothing keeping me here.”

“What will you do when you’re-” you begin to speak when a loud whistle blares from the port your ship had saddled up to. Growing quiet as you begin to hear the general buzz of the people around you grow as they begin to shuffle towards the bridge that linked the port to the steamship. “I guess it’s time,” Reaching to pick up your bags, the leather against your palm somewhat soothing your nerves, “are you boarding too?”

A shake of his head, “My ship doesn’t leave until the afternoon.”

“Ah,” the sound leaving your lips as the thought of, perhaps, having someone to accompany you on your journey was swiftly diminished. “Well,” A small smile gracing your lips, “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Choi.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” his smile returns, “Safe travels.”

“And to you,” You nod as you begin to walk towards the front port, looking down to your hand to make sure that your ticket is still in hand.

[ 1909.05.16. 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都 ] “It’s not kūremashita, it's agemashita.” writing on a chalkboard, the dust from the small white stick clinging to the ends of Jeonghan’s jacket as he scrawls out the hiragana. “Unless you’re thankful that Seokmin’s parents give him money?” A smattering of laughter echoing the room as he tries to teach the handful of students how to show appreciativeness and the reporting of it to others. “Try one more time.” Seokmin sits back in his chair and looks at a pink cheeked Seungkwan who leans over his notes in an attempt to reconcile his verbal mistake.

There’s another try from the dark-haired man, it sounds good enough to Seokmin but apparently, the structure of the sentence needs more tweaking, as seen by Jeonghan giving out a small sigh before walking to Seungkwan’s side. Seokmin takes this time to look around the small, confined classroom. It is in no means shabby, but one could tell this building isn’t meant to be a school, Seokmin thinks Jeonghan told him that it had been some sort of distillery prior to the deed falling into his hands.

From ten in the morning, when the sun slants in through the two glass windows of the classroom just enough to see the dust flying through the air, until noon is when Jeonghan teaches the native Korean speakers basic Japanese grammar and vocabulary. It’s only a handful of students; Mingyu, whom Seokmin had met on his first day, Seungkwan, who is somewhat timid but roaringly confident at times, Chan, a kid on some sort of exchange trip who hopes to build up his language skills before his university classes start in the fall, and of course, Seokmin himself. It is an intimate learning experience, perhaps that’s why Seokmin now feels miles more confident in his speaking ability now than he did a month prior. Hell, he could now converse freely, albeit somewhat confined in his topics, to the front desk woman at the hotel he still resides at.

There’s a knock at the classroom door, pulling the attention from the room’s occupants away from their work and now to the dark wooden door that leads out into the small foyer where the next group of students is presumably waiting for their lecture. “The next class doesn’t start until noon,” Jeonghan looks at the clock placed atop his desk, “You’ve got five minutes.”

The door opens with a small creaking noise, shadows from the entranceway spilling in as Seokmin catches a familiar face standing there to greet the class. “I was actually hoping to sit in?” A voice Seokmin hadn’t heard since his university days accompanied the squeak of floorboards underfoot as Jisoo strides into the room. “I think my Japanese is a little rusty.”

A small laugh from Jeonghan as he recognizes his friend, “There’s the jailrat.” Jeonghan returns to the front of the room to stand in front of the taller, no doubt feeling the confused gazes of the students behind him staring past him and to the stranger. “I’m surprised they let you out that early.”

“You know I’m persuasive,” Smile lingering on his lips as his head turns and he catches sight of Seokmin looking at him quizzically. He is still caught up on the word jailrat and the connotation behind it, when had Jisoo been incarcerated?

“Well,” Jeonghan turns on his heels to address the class, “Why don’t we end early today?”

Mingyu’s already leaned over his desk to get Chan’s attention, Seokmin thinks he hears him say something about grabbing lunch at the nearby market, but his interest is far too deterred to be paying full attention to the younger men. The class packs their bags, Seokmin taking the longest time of all as he tucks away his books into his makeshift bag. In all earnest it was a bag he’d borrowed from the reception at the hotel, he’d neglected to bring or buy a suitable bag for school when he left home and arrived in Japan. The worn canvas of the thing is almost wearing through at the bottom, he slings it over his shoulder and makes his way towards Jisoo and Jeonghan, who look to be in deep conversation.

Jisoo spots Seokmin approaching in his periphery, turning to greet him with a jovial smile. “I see you made it here in one piece?” His eyes looked tired, his face gaunter than the last time he’d seen his elder, but he wasn’t going to question, it was neither the time nor the place.

“Mostly,” Seokmin replies, “Jeonghan’s been a great teacher.”

“Thanks for the ego boost,” Jeonghan’s fingers dance on the lapels of his jacket in mock vanity, only then moving into his jacket pocket for a lighter and his infamous pack of Chūyū cigarettes. He offers one to Jisoo and then to Seokmin, to which they accept, pulling their own lighters out of their pockets and lighting the butts of the sticks.

“God, these are shit,” a grit through Jisoo’s teeth after he pulls in a drag. “They confiscated my Lucky Strike back in Tokyo.” Seokmin’s brow furrows as the other begins to speak again, “Let me know when you’ve got a free night. I’d love to grab dinner and catch up; it’s been a while.”

“I should have time this Saturday?” Seokmin thinks of his schedule, it’s not that he had massive time commitments here, but he was making a point to travel around the city in his free time. “If that works for you, of course.”

“It sounds doable,” A nod as Jisoo moves his hand to tap his cigarette against an ashtray atop Jeonghan’s desk, the wood around the tray stained with the ashes of past smoking ventures. “Are you still staying at that hotel I told you about?”

Seokmin shifts on his feet, “I am, are you staying there too?”

“Jeonghan has offered me residence in his home until he is sick of me,” Jisoo nods to the aforementioned, “I can meet you in the lobby around five then?”

“Sounds good,” Seokmin agrees, looking at the clock hanging on the wall, “I think Seungkwan wanted to go over the homework together so I should go and help him out.” It’s something of an excuse but Seokmin could feel as if there was some sort of pregnant secret looming over the heads of the other two.

“Would you mind sending Junhui and the others in?” Jeonghan asks as Seokmin snubs out his cigarette in the ashtray and makes his way to the door.

Metal knob in hand, Seokmin turns and gives him a brief nod, “Of course.”

There’s something that doesn't sit right with Seokmin. Jisoo had noted that he’d planned on staying in Seoul for a while in the letter he’d sent to Seokmin a few weeks ago. It’s not as if plans can’t change or anything of the sort, yet he’d seemed vehement about it, detailing something about a someone he was going to visit before heading home to America. He isn’t one to question where questions aren’t due. If his friend was to stay in Kyoto for the time being, he’d be nothing more than appreciative of having a familiar face around.

[ 1909.05.18. 今出川ホテル、京都 ] When Seokmin ascends the staircase, hands tucked in his jacket pockets, he can immediately tell that Jisoo sits in one of the large armchairs by the hotel’s unused fireplace in the lobby. Although his face is obscured by the wings, with the way his hand taps in rhythm with the song wafting through the air, the excitedness of the movements are a telling sign that it is his friend.

A glance to the victrola that lies in the corner of the room, the audio scratchy and soft as it emits a tune that Seokmin does not know. He strides over to the plush chair, glancing down to its occupant before speaking.

“Good afternoon,” the words escape him and Jisoo turns to him with a jump and widened eyes before he realizes who it is.

“Dokyeom!” Jisoo smiles from the armchair, rising to his feet to greet the other with a quick embrace, “Long time no see.”

“I’d prefer if you called me my real name,” he nods awkwardly as Jisoo steps back from him, his hand rising to scratch the back of his head, “helps me forget the meaning of that epithet.”

“Still having family issues?” Jisoo’s brow furrows as they break their embrace, “I thought you wrote that you had sorted that mess out?”

“More or less,” another awkward smile, “But enough about me— I thought you were supposed to be in Seoul?”

“Change of plans, there was someone I was meant to meet in Tokyo, but they left during the time I was imprisoned.”

“Jeonghan mentioned something like that when you first came in, what happened?” Jisoo holds out his hand, motioning to the door, as Seokmin questions. The latter begins to walk forward, towards the entrance of the hotel as his friend trails behind him, “Were you really taken into custody?”

“They thought I had ties with Homer Hulbert,” A laugh as the two make their way out the front door, trapezing down the steps and onto the sidewalk, “Which is correct, but they had no grounds to imprison me on the notion that I know him alone or had one of his books in my possession.”

“Hulbert— is he the one that—?”

“The very same,” Jisoo waves the notion off, “But that is more than contrived at this point, let me know how you are. It sounds like things are the same with your family the last time I saw you.”

“If things were okay then I would have stayed home,” a huff of heated breath leaving him in something of a passive laugh. “My father is still trying to set me up with that girl, the past runs deep, I suppose.”

“I cannot agree with you more,” Jisoo agrees with a nod, “Have you even met her yet?”

“The last time I saw Seungwon was when I was thirteen, even if I saw her now, I cannot say I could point her out in a crowd if you asked me to.” Seokmin's hands find purchase in his pocket, hidden away from the sunlight that falls onto his head and burns the back of his neck as Jisoo and he walk further down the street, through the masses of people.

The older one nods solemnly, almost as if he understands the situation, "I have a friend who's in a similar predicament as you. Although her parents haven't found her a match or approved of anyone she's liked, I'd say her feelings mirror your own."

"Is that right?" Seokmin questions rhetorically as Jisoo digs through his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes, "Is that the girl who you spoke so much about during our classes together?"

Jisoo sputters, his hands failing to ignite his cigarette at Seokmin's words, the object dangling from his lips, "Did I really talk about her that much?"

"So much so I feel like I know her," Seokmin smiles and shakes his head, a familiar pang hitting his stomach once he looks back to the street before them. "Do you want to grab something to eat? I don't think I've eaten since lunchtime yesterday."

"Too busy studying?"

"Something like that..." In actuality, he'd received yet another telegram, this time from his mother, scolding him for staying away again.

"You always were more studious than me," the other nods and looks to a small restaurant they begin to pass on their left before stopping in his tracks, "What about this place?"

"Soba?" The intensity of the sun once again baring down above him as he looks at the sign on the door, he nods quickly, "Sounds great."

The pair make their way inside, settling down at a small table in the back corner of the shop as they wait for their food to arrive. Seokmin moves his hand to unbutton a few fastens from the front of his jacket to allow some of the shop's cooler air to hit him. His hands then move to rest atop the table, his long and slender fingers tapping as Jisoo smokes the last of his cigarette, snubbing it out on the ashtray settled at the end of the table.

"How's your family doing? Is your father's business going well? I saw a few copies when I was in Seoul.” Lackadaisical in question, Seokmin can hear something edging behind his friend’s tone that tinges upon suspicion.

“It’s going well,” a silent nod as a server comes to their table, the two order quickly, leaving little room for questions before Seokmin asks, “What about your family?”

“Willfully ignorant as ever,” Jisoo frowns, shifting in his seat. It looks as if bitter words reside on his tongue but he swallows them down with a redemption of a smile.

“About what?” Seokmin pauses as he reaches for the pot of tea the server had brought on her arrival, his hand hovering over the handle.

“Everything.” Jisoo’s shoulders shrug as Seokmin eventually pours himself and his friend a cup of tea. “Joseon politics, American politics, hell- even the politics of their own inner circle. I refuse to believe they aren’t intelligent; they refuse to accept anything that isn’t affecting them personally.”

“I see…” He winds off his acknowledgement with the abating of his words, woefully aware that his parents are of the same mindset. His own father being the worst of all of them, claiming that any interaction or deals with unsavory businessmen were for the benefit of the family, not to the detriment.

“My father’s own brother died in ‘07 and he seemed unfazed by it at all,” Jisoo huffs out, “At the hands of the Imperial Army, and yet he said nothing.”

Seokmin’s eyes widen, and he raises a finger to his lips as if to tell the older to lower his voice, unknowing if anyone within the shop understands Korean. “Even if he did, there would be nothing your father could have done about it. Not only is he in America, but he also holds no authority in Joseon.”

“No one wanting to do a damn holds any authority in Joseon anymore, you know better than me what the yangban have gone through, what everyone’s gone through.” Jisoo leans in closer to Seokmin, ceding as he lowers his tone, “It may be easier said than done but I believe we have the ability to change that.”

“How would-” Seokmin begins but is interrupted when the server comes back with their food, carefully setting each dish atop the table before retreating into the depths of the kitchen. “How could ‘we’ possibly do that?”

“There are ways, I know there are. I just need time to think of a proper solution,” Jisoo nods as he reaches for his chopsticks, eager to sate his own hunger that had risen during their conversation. “If you’re interested, I’ll tell you more when I have an idea.”

[ 1909.05.27. 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都 ] Seokmin’s mind doesn't return to that conversation with Jisoo until a Wednesday afternoon about a week later. The sun begins to sink down in the sky as Jisoo, Mingyu and himself clean off some blackboard tablets in the main room of the school. Jeonghan is busy teaching a class down the hall as Seokmin’s fingers begin to prune from what feels like endless scrubbing with a rag and vinegar ridden water.

“You know,” Jisoo speaks up after an eternity of silence, brushing his hands on his pants after setting down a board onto the floor below. “I think we can really change something here.” His shoes quickly tap on the floor in a sort of anxious apprehension, “Jeonghan and I have been talking and the resistance effort in Joseon seems to be strengthening again.”

“What are you implying?” Seokmin asks, confused at the sudden statement. His brow wet with perspiration, even having the windows cracked open doesn't allow for much wind to travel throughout the building.

“I am saying that we can try and do something to change the… trouble happening back home,” Jisoo shows no anger but a passion resides in his voice that remains hard to mask. “Do something before something more is done to us.”

“That is…” Mingyu begins, looking up to Jisoo from his task of drying off the boards.

“Idealistic?” Seokmin interjects, biting his lower lip before continuing, “Jisoo you do realize if someone hears you talking about that you’ll get thrown in prison again?”

Eyes trailing around the space as if he hadn’t already known they were alone, “Every one of us are sitting ducks. You know that” a point to Mingyu and then a point to Seokmin, “and you know that. Is fighting back against that such a bad thing?”

“How do you propose we do that? Drop everything now, hop on a ship back to Joseon and just roam the countryside looking for this supposed group?” Blood rushes to his ears and it sounds like waves crashing on a beach’s shore.

“Not at all,” A shake of his head. “There are ways of resisting that do not rely on fighting, think peaceful, diplomatic.”

A nervous laugh escapes Seokmin, it’s involuntary but he can’t help it. “Hong Jisoo, I knew you were insane, but this is another level.”

“I— uh— I’m going to get some chalk refills from the storage room,” Mingyu excuses himself from the conversation, a glance at him as he walks away tells Seokmin that he doesn’t know how to interact with the situation and was looking for an easy escape.

“Seokmin, if you would just listen to me and get that stupid doubt out of your head you might just be able to make some sense of it all.” A sigh from Jisoo as he stands, reaching into his jacket to rummage around for a pack of cigarettes. “Can I bum one off of you?”

Cheek bitten as he grabs his pack out of his pocket and tosses it to the other, “Do you have any idea what they would do to my family if they knew we were having this conversation? Your family and Mingyu’s are across the world and have no worries about what they say or do. The other student’s and mine are not privileged with that.” Cigarette carton tossed back, the sound of a lighter igniting and the smell of smoke pervading through the air as he tucks the pack away into his pocket.

Jisoo thinks, an exhalation of smoke through troubled lungs as his outward breath intermingles with the dust thick in the air. It dissipates without a sound, quietly invading the space as Seokmin is overcome with a sense of trepidation from the other, he picks his words meticulously, trying to string them together as carefully as possible, “This is not just about you or me or my family or yours. It is the fate of a nation on the line, is that so hard to understand?”

It causes the younger man to pause for a moment, his hand falling to his pocket, hovering there before he pulls on the fabric as if he’d meant to straighten the coat all along. His throat clears, thinking of his parents and brother he’d left behind in Suji, what any actions that Jisoo’s ideals cause may entail for them. Even if he was trying to get away from his obligations back home, he’d never want to intentionally put them in any sort of danger.

Seokmin opens his mouth to speak before catching a bright glimpse of color passing by one of the front windows, followed by the school door opening with a large slam against the wall. Silhouette standing in the setting sun for a moment, not looking at all familiar to Seokmin. An equally confusing circumstance when the words, “Joshua Hong,” spill from your lips. It’s a confused expression that crosses your face, standing in the front door of the school as the one named leans leisurely back against one of the walls.

Cigarette in hand, Jisoo turns at the call of his name, nearly falling over in surprise to see you standing there. No, not surprise- bewilderment, shock or some form of abject horror as you take a few long strides to stand in front of him. It’s as if a child’s been caught by his mother and Seokmin is playing witness to it all.

Seokmin watches the scene in a state likened to childlike curiosity, he understands not one word that falls from either of your or Jisoo’s lips, but he can tell you’re angry and him beyond apologetic. Hand movements gesticulating, he catches the words ‘Seoul’ and ‘Tokyo’ at some point as you huff something out under your breath. Voices rising, Seokmin’s surprised Jeonghan hasn’t come out to tell them to be quiet, but if he were in Jeonghan’s shoes he wouldn’t as you sound royally pissed. When you turn on your heels Seokmin looks to Jisoo for some sort of explanation, but his gaze is solely locked on you leaving.

“Shouldn’t you chase after her?” Mingyu asks, the two others not realizing he had returned, box of chalk in hand as the three men watch you storm out into the crowded streets.

“She needs to calm down before I talk to her again or she might really kill me.” Jisoo sighs, bringing the cigarette to his lips before taking in a long drag. A hand runs through his hair as it looks as if all of the blood had drained from his face upon your arrival.

“Is that the friend you mentioned a while ago? You showed us a picture I think.” Seokmin questions, somewhat relieved at your intrusion into their previous conversation.

“It is,” the answer not coming from Jisoo, but from Mingyu. “And by the sound of it she’s ready to pack you into her suitcase and take you on the next ship home.” Head nodding as he looks to the space you once occupied, “You really didn’t tell her you were coming here?”

“You understood that?” Smoke leaving him he turns to the younger, “You didn’t tell me you speak English.”

“It never really came up.” Shoulders shrugging as he sets the box of chalk he’d been fiddling with down onto a nearby chair. “I was raised in Canada for the first eleven years of my life.”

“Son of a bitch, Jeonghan never mentioned that.” Jisoo muses, tossing the cigarette from his hand and smothering it with his shoe. “But yeah, that’s her. I may have neglected to mention that but I was a little held up,” he looks confused as he pushes himself off the wall and makes his way to the door, peering out in the street. “I just don’t know how in the hell she found me.”

“She probably used the wrath of God to do it,” Mingyu suggests, “That’s how my mom says she knows everything I’ve ever done wrong.”

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” A shake of his head as Jisoo turns to Seokmin. “She said she’s staying at the hotel you’re in. Would you mind meeting up with me tomorrow morning in the lobby to talk some sense into her and get her to go back home?”

“I don’t even know her though?” Hands dried on a nearby towel, Seokmin stands and reaches for the bucket of now dirty water. He walks past Jisoo and into the street to dump its contents out, “I don’t even speak that much English.”

“It’s more of moral support than anything,” Jisoo steps aside to let Seokmin back in, “I wasn’t joking she might actually kill me if she gets the chance.”

“Fine,” Seokmin sighs, walking to pick up his bag from the corner of the room. His hands smell of vinegar and he rubs his still pruned fingertips together as he thinks of what the next morning would hold. “You owe me, though.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Jisoo breathes a sigh of relief as Seokmin makes his way to the front door once again, this time with the intent of leaving. “Nine work for you?”

“Nine works for me.” A nod as he walks down the two steps and onto the dirt road below, the indentations from your shoes leading off down the almost empty road. He glances back to Jisoo with a, “See you tomorrow,” and then to Mingyu with a question of “Do we have a quiz on Friday?” before waving it off and beginning his trek back home.

The night descends on Kyoto quietly and without noise, the stores closing long after the sun has fallen behind the western mountains in Arashiyama, lanterns aligning the street as Seokmin shuffles his way to the hotel. It’s quiet, the city typically is at this time of night, he’s learned over the course of his stay in the ancient former capital.

Before he goes inside, he stands outside of the entrance, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he stares up at the night sky blooming with stars. His bag lays at his feet, more worn now than it had been on the first day of class. Crumpled in his fists, buried away into the depths of his coat lies a letter, the ink that had adorned it far too smudged and water damaged to read now. Seokmin hadn’t meant to ‘accidentally’ drop it into a puddle when it had arrived that morning, so the contents lie unknown. However, on the corner of the envelope, a blurred name, ‘Seungwon’ stays virtually untouched as if to remind him of former obligations.

It’s as if there’s a clock ticking in his chest, counting down to a day, a time, when he’s meant to take up the holstered responsibility of his family and place it onto his own shoulders. A burden not yet ready to bear, he sighs out into the calm night and makes his way inside of the hotel.

[ 1909.05.28. 今出川、京都 ] Seokmin wakes to the knocking on his door, his head burrowing into the tangled blankets and pillows from a restless night’s sleep. It takes a moment for him to find himself, writhing around the sheets before pulling himself out of his own stupor. Feet hitting the floor with a dull thud, he drags his lethargic body to the small bathroom, running his hands under the cool water of the faucet before splashing some onto his face to wake himself further. He meets his own gaze in the reflection, tired eyes and the slightest shadow of stubble beginning to darken on his jaw and upper lip. He’d have to visit the barber at some point in the coming days before he becomes totally unkempt.

He dresses himself in casual attire, a white linen button up, the most breathable thing he’d wear today, before he dons the dark blue of his three-piece suit, a light gray and black one still residing in his wardrobe. He notices the threading is nearly worn as he buttons the bottom half of his jacket, the things threatening to fall off should he exert too much force. The soles of his shoes too lie in disarray, wearing thin from endless wandering the streets of Kyoto after his classes have finished. It’s not that he’s searching for anything in particular, maybe a solution to his current situation. But he can’t find that at a merchant’s stall.

The route to the dining hall located on the first floor is a path easily tread, remembered in his first few days of arriving in Kyoto. The carpeted floors give way to a wooden expanse the further he delves into the hotel, the scents of varying breakfast foods calling out to his aching stomach.

His hands keep busy with the morning paper, perhaps yesterday’s or the day prior to that one. It takes a while for the Korean post to arrive in Kyoto, the postage system seems to take years for important things to arrive, yet the letters from home seem to be weekly. A sigh as he sets down the news, reaching out for the carafe of coffee situated some ways away from where he’s seated. He begins to pour himself a cup, only pausing when he catches something out the corner of his eye.

A few darkened drips from the coffee pot settle into the white linen of the dining room tablecloth as he spots you stalking towards him. His eyes go wide and his breath hitches when your gaze narrows on him, almost causing him to choke on coffee he’d just brought to his lips.

The way you saunter over to his table reminds him of his mother when she’d be out to scold either him or his brother. Seokmin doesn’t know you but can easily tell that you’re not a force to be reckoned with.

“Where’s Josh?” You ask, standing before him, arms crossing over your chest as you look down at him expectantly. “You were one of the men with him yesterday, right?”

“What?” Seokmin asks, trying to make some sense of what you were saying. When he was a young boy, his parents had allowed him to take English lessons with a handful of the Christian missionaries that had drifted through Suji, but seeing as he understands nothing of what you just said, it’s obvious he hadn’t retained much, if any, of his vocabulary. “What are you looking for?” He sees no glimmer of understanding in your eyes as your brow furrows, probably trying to decipher what he’d just said. “Jisoo? Are you looking for Jisoo?” It’s the common connection the two of you seem to have, it’s his best bet on trying to figure out what you want.

You nod at the name, recalling that his mother shouts that at him whenever she’s angry. “Where is he?” If you’d taken up Josh on any of his invitational Korean lessons, you may have had much better luck in this situation. But you’d gone off to learn French because you were enamored with one of your classmates at the time, you could almost hit yourself seeing where it’s gotten you.

“Whe-” Seokmin pauses, lips pursing together as he thinks of the word. Jisoo was meant to be in the lobby when she came downstairs, but it’s now clear he’s nowhere to be found.

“School.” It’s one of the words he can pull from memory. “He’s probably at the school,” he says again and gestures in the general direction of Jeonghan’s academy.

“The school- The language school?” You’ve said the name of the institute hundreds of times to yourself that you think it’s the only Japanese you know. Not that you fully understand what it means, just knowing that it’s the name of the place.

Seokmin nods, somewhat surprised that you know the name.

“Can you take me?” The question falls out quickly and you see he’s confused, so you repeat it again slowly in hopes that he comprehends it. It seems that he does, reaching for his coffee and finishing the cup before rising to his feet, motioning for you to follow him as he heads towards the exit.

The walk to the school is painfully awkward, drenched in a silence that neither of you want to address. Both of you are not confident enough in the other’s mother tongue to make small talk as the two of you begin to walk the streets.

“Hey!” Seokmin hears Mingyu call out as the schoolhouse nears, “Took you long enough, you’re almost late.” When the younger sees that you’re accompanying him he gives you a small wave, “You’re Jisoo’s friend, right?”

“I am,” You say after a moment, not having expected to hear English today. But with the company that Josh keeps, you can’t be too surprised at anything now. “Do you know where he is?”

“No, he’s not here yet,” he shakes his head and turns to Seokmin, “Didn’t Jisoo say that you’d meet him at the hotel?”

“He did,” Seokmin’s lips curve into a frown as the three of you make your way into the school. “She’s been interrogating me about him, I think. Although I can barely understand what she’s saying.”

Mingyu laughs at the older and then turns back to you, “My name’s Mingyu.” His demeanor has a lightness to it that descends onto you as something of a godsend. It’s an ease that you’d probably find with Josh if he were here, and you aren't still angry at him.

“It’s nice to meet you Mingyu,” you offer him a smile before your eyes go wide and you turn to your partner, “I uhm, I never asked him what his name is.”

“Seokmin,” Mingyu answers, another chortle leaving him, and the elder looks confused as to why his name’s just been called out. “What’s your name?”

You respond quickly, glancing over your shoulder to see if Josh is on his way in, to your misfortune, he isn’t. Mingyu quickly introduces you to Seokmin, probably so he has a gist of who you are. It’s hard to tell if Josh’s said anything about you to these men, but it doesn’t look as if he’s said too much.

“We’ve got class soon,” Mingyu’s voice pulls you from your search and you turn back to him, “I’m sure Jeonghan would let you sit in on the class if you wanted to, although I’m not too sure that you’ll understand much, I don’t even get all of it.”

“It’s alright,” you shake your head at him, “I’ll just wait out here for Joh- Jisoo.”

The man in question strolls into the school around thirty minutes later, the local paper tucked under his arm as his brow raises in surprise to see you, “I thought I said I’d meet you at the hotel.”

“I got impatient,” a frown as your gaze flickers over to him. “Jail Josh? Jail?” You fume, storming over to the taller, “Do you have any idea how worried I was, how worried your mother was? God- If you don’t write to her today and tell her that you’re okay, I'm stuffing you in my suitcase and taking you back with me.”

He laughs heartily, despite you glaring him down, “I wrote to her as soon as I got out. I wrote to you too, but it doesn’t seem like you got the message.” A few more chuckles escape him as he holds his arms out, “I missed you.”

You sigh, falling into his embrace, “I missed you too.” After a moment you pull away, stepping back from him, “I’m glad to see that you’re okay, but if you ever do something like this again-”

“I’ve missed your hollow threats,” Josh smiles and glances around the school’s empty halls, “Do you want to get out of here for a while? I know a good cafe nearby, they have a lovely castella.”

“Don’t you have class?” You question with a tilt of your head, the gentle murmurs from the classroom some ways away drifting out into the hall. “Mingyu said that Seokmin was already late, I wouldn’t want to stop you from your lesson.”

“I’m not a student,” Josh shakes his head, “I’m just… in town for a while and Jeonghan’s putting up with me for a bit.” He flashes you a grin before you have a chance to ask him exactly what he means by that, “Now come on before they run out.”

The two of you walk out into the dense heat of late spring, passing by a group of students as you do so. Josh recognizes some of them whereas you don’t, him saying something to them that elicits a laugh or two before you’re both back on your way to the city center.

“Why were you arrested?” You can’t stop yourself from asking the question as you turn onto the main road from the alley in which the school is situated. There are only a handful of people perusing the streets, but none look interested in what you’d just said. “It wasn’t serious, right?”

“Of course not,” he reassures you and looks to a few buildings ahead, “We’re almost there.” Josh walks in silence for a moment, his fingers rubbing against his palm as he looks back to you, “I lost my passport, can you believe it?” You recall when you were leaving San Francisco and you had lost your own passport, if it hadn’t been for the man that found it for you, you’re not sure where you’d be.

“Well, actually, I didn’t lose it, it fell between the pages of one of the books that I bought, which reminds me- I have a few for you, I wrote you about them, just remember to tell me to give them to you,” Josh says quickly as you approach the building he’d been eyeing earlier, walking into the opened door confidently and heading to the nearest open table.

You can tell he’s lying. You’ve only known him since you were children and he’s the closest person to you, you know almost every little quirk about him. And one of the first things you’d learned was that he talks quickly when he’s not being truthful. Yet, you don’t question him on it, seeing as you’d just calmed the tension between you, you don’t want to ignite it for the second time today. So, you just nod and follow him inside.

More oft than not, you hide your feelings behind a veneer of snark, of a bite that seems to sting but never lasts. It’s a sham way to hold yourself together, for if you let the dread of reality seep into your veins any longer than you allow it, you may just become the person you’re trying to hide. A vulnerable being who longs for the company of others but finds errant ways to keep them close instead of just outright saying it.

Josh offers out a seat to you and you sit, hands folding neatly atop the tabletop as you look to the menu scrawled onto a chalkboard near the cafe’s counter. You’re not sure why you do, the mix of Japanese alphabets is still foreign to you.

“I’ll go grab something, just wait here,” he says, noticing your confusion, still standing before he turns on his heels and strides over to the counter. You turn away before he begins to speak to the barista, looking out of the glass window at the front of the shop,

“How long were you planning on staying in Japan?” Josh’s voice stirs you some time later, the gentle sound of two cups being placed on the table making you turn in his direction as he sits down across from you.

“As long as it took me to find you.” You smile at him, reaching out for the small cup, “I guess that means I can pack my bags and leave now.” The smile placated on your lips is joking, but you hold a sincerity in your gaze as if to ask him if that’s what you should do next. He was the entire reason you were here, to find him, to make sure that he was okay and to bring him home if you could.

Josh’s finger traces the rim of his own coffee cup, gently lifting after a moment to tap along the surface of the tabletop. He hums, low and obstinate, as if to ponder the significance of you being here.

“I guess you could,” a slow nod of his head, “You know, you were never obligated to chase me half-way across the world to try and get me back home. I’ve been detained before-”

“You have?” eyes widening as you look from your coffee to meet his eyes, “You’ve never mentioned that.”

“I’ve been detained before but,” he continues, gaze hardening at you as you interrupt him, “I really thought I had lost my papers so I sent my mom a letter saying I may need my official documents back home to get me out of the mess I found myself in. This was a little more serious than the others.”

“What happened the other times?”

“Well, in London they stopped me for taking too much tea out of the country, I guess they thought I’d run them dry of it,” a teasing smile twinges on the corners of his lips, “and in Cairo, I tried to sneak off with a few things from Cleopatra’s tomb.”

“You know,” you lean back in your chair, a snide frown on your lips, “lying less might help you out in the future.”

Josh laughs, reaching into his jacket pocket to procure his pack of smokes, it isn’t until he’s got a lit cigarette dangling from his lips that he speaks again, “Where’s the fun in that?”

He suddenly gasps, the smoke he’d been inhaling filtering into his lungs and causing him to sputter for a moment. You reach for and hand him his cup of coffee so he doesn’t choke on himself. After a moment of hitting his chest and extinguishing his cigarette into the ashtray on the corner of the table, he speaks up, “You didn’t use your grandmother’s money to get you here, did you?”

“Well, technically it isn’t hers anymore,” a guilty exhalation of a chuckle, “but yes, I did.”

“Oh,” He’s crestfallen in the most faux of ways, “You said you’d take me to Italy with that.” It’s a joke, but you can see his concern wavering behind the sincerity of his words.

Your hand falls to run over the textured brocades of your dress, a wavering smile delicately tugging at the corners of your lips, “I was just worried about you.”

“And I appreciate that, I really do,” brow softening as he reaches for his coffee, voice still a bit hoarse from his earlier choking. “But you don’t need to throw everything you have away for me, I know the trip probably wasn’t cheap.”

Josh’s not wrong. It had taken quite a large portion from your deceased grandmother’s account to get you here, and the subsequent stay in the country.

“I had to make sure you were okay,” you shrug your shoulders with a coy smile, reaching out to pick up your teacup and bring it to your lips. It’s then you realize something, setting the cup back down and looking around the shop, eyes wide.

“What is it?” Josh questions, noticing your shift in demeanor.

“I haven’t ever been abroad before, I thought maybe I’d travel to Paris or London, Milan, even… Never…” A small hum as you turn to look back at him, “Never to Kyoto.”

“I’d have loved for you to see Seoul,” Josh smiles softly, his fingers tapping along the sides of the cup, “It’s beautiful this time of year.”

“You make it sound as if it’s impossible to go,” a tilt of your head. Josh had told you stories from his time studying abroad, of the antics he and his friends would get up to and of the history he’d learned.

“It would be a little difficult to go back right now,” the smile lingering on his lips looks sad now, almost wistful in a way, “I’m sure we could go in the future if you want to.”

“I’d love to,” you nod, glancing out of the window once more to watch the passersby walk up and down the crowded street.

[ 1909.05.30. 今出川、京都 ] Japanese is difficult. You expected it to be, and you never expected yourself to have an aptitude for language seeing as how your conversational French lessons had left you with a minor understanding of the language itself. Most Korean words that Josh had tried to teach you over the course of your friendship had evicted your mind as well, so when Jeonghan asks if you want to sit in on the Korean student’s class as they learn Japanese, you’re not sure why you accept.

You stay in that class for a few days, struggling to get along as you furiously scribble away into your notebooks. Jeonghan has offered you an English to Japanese dictionary and you copy and try to memorize the words as best you can, albeit the characters you draw are choppy and cause your instructor to spend a few more minutes with you trying to aid you in your quest to master hiragana.

“Do you think we should have an English only class?” Jeonghan questions you one day after the class has ended, a few minutes remain before his next, so he pulls you aside as the rest of the students filter from the room. “Jisoo failed to tell me that he never taught you any Korean and I can see you struggling more than you have to.”

“If I’m going to be the only student, I cannot see the point,” you smile and shake your head at him, “Doing so would only amplify your workload.”

“Never mind that,” a wave of his hand, “I can scrounge up a few of the boys who I know are a bit more… multilingual and have them sit in. Actually,” he thinks for a moment, his eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling before settling on you, “I think it would be rather beneficial for them… So, what do you say?”

You ponder on the thought for a moment, not wanting to seem selfish enough to steal away a few of the men from the other classes for your own personal gain.

“If they’re okay with it…” Nodding slowly, “Then I don’t see why it should be a problem.”

“Great,” a toothy grin from the teacher, “I’ll see what I can do.”

[ 1909.06.05. 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都 ] Kim Mingyu is sitting in the back of the schoolhouse’s main classroom, his nose buried inside Jeonghan’s mandated textbook, when you approach him.

“I’m sorry to have pulled you from the other class,” you sigh out, taking a seat at the desk in front of him, yet turning in the chair to face him, “You must think me horrible for it.”

“On the contrary,” Mingyu says after a moment before he sets the book in hand atop the table, a glance downwards shows that he had been hiding a small paperback book behind his study materials. He must’ve been reading that while looking so studious. “Ever since I switched classes I think I’ve actually learned more now that Chan’s not whispering in my ear or Seungkwan isn’t cracking a joke.”

“That’s a relief,” you smile, pausing for a moment as you take a deep breath, “I have a favor to ask of you, if it isn’t too… much.”

“A favor?” Piqued eyebrow as he looks quizzically at you, “Can I inquire what it is you’re asking of me?”

“You know Korean, right?”

“Well, uhm,” the question causes him to falter, “I should think so?”

“Teach me.” Hands finding themselves latched onto the back of the chair you sit in, you lean towards him, voice whispering as if you’re embarrassed, “I never bothered taking Josh up on it and now he’s too busy to help me study. And all I’ve been learning is Japanese except for when the others teach me a word or two.”

“You might want to forget those… most of them were pretty,” his face pinkening as he shifts in his seat, “inappropriate.”

“Oh really?” You feel your own cheeks warm with embarrassment, “I suppose I should’ve realized—”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell them to stop.” Mingyu says quickly to save you from any further mortification, “Are you free this weekend?”

“Are you asking me out?” Knowing the question will fluster the other, as it does, you stifle a laugh. “I am, should we meet here to study?”

“If that works for you?”

“I’ll see you on Saturday.”

[ 1909.06.12. 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都 ] “Have you given any more thought to what I asked?” Jisoo stands in the doorway of Jeonghan’s main classroom, Seokmin scribbling away at something, too concerned with what he’s writing to notice that his door had opened.

With a small jump, he turns in his desk chair to his friend, “About?”

“Trying to organize something here.” With a cautious motion, Jisoo steps into the room. “I’ve been mailing the consulate in Tokyo but haven’t gotten a concrete meeting date set, I’m sure someone of your influence— of your family’s influence could—”

“Jisoo…” A frown settling onto Seokmin’s lips as he tucks the paper he’d been writing into the desk, away from the other’s prying gaze. “My family’s newspaper is scrutinized enough and it’s already considered pro-Japanese, what’ll my family do if they find out their son is working against the very thing keeping them afloat?”

“Where is your sense of justice?” Jisoo returns the grizzled grimace, “Didn’t you flee here to escape that reality for a while?”

“That is— It isn’t just that.”

“I am not trying to force your hand. I know that you’re smart and I know deep down you disagree with everything that’s going on.” A pause, “We’re meeting in Gion on the ninth, in Hanami. You’re welcome to sit in and hear what everyone has to say and make your decision after that.”

“... Okay.”

“You’ll go?”

“I’ll go, but don’t expect me to sign my life away just like that.” A sigh and Jisoo wordlessly leaves the room. Seokmin waits a moment more and pulls out the note sheet he’d been working on, as well as the letter he’d written earlier. He scans the letter once more before he sighs, folding it and tucking it away into an envelope and then into his bag.

‘Jihoon,

Much has happened since I left Suji. I hope things at home are still stagnant.

The friend I told you of before leaving (the one who acquainted me with Yoon Jeonghan) has arrived under the most peculiar circumstances. I thought him to be in Seoul, but he arrived in Kyoto mid-May unannounced. And the strangest thing is that not even a month later, his friend from America shows up to scold him profusely for a litany of issues. I found her first impression rather intimidating, but I now find it rather endearing the more I try and speak to her.

I suppose I should ask how my family is doing, yet with their barrage of letters I feel as if I never left. The plague of this marriage overwhelms me constantly, I am not the heir to the company, yet my father and mother find it imperative to make a match.

Enough rambling from my end, I hope your store is receiving the customer base it deserves. Starting any business now is sure to be wrought with turbulence, but I know you can and will persevere.

Seokmin’

[ 1909.06.15. 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都 ] “Excuse me,” Heat sweeps through the schoolhouse this afternoon, saturating the air in a humid gale that seeks to suffocate the air from one's own lungs. Seokmin stands before you as you sit in the main lobby of the schoolhouse, the textbook Mingyu has given you in your grasp as you look at him.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, lowering the book in hand to look up at Seokmin.

The toe of his shoe scuffs on the wooden floorboards as he rummages around his coat pocket for a moment. His brow furrows, and then lightens before he now moves his hand to search around his bag until he finds his fingertips brushing along a folded piece of paper.

“For you,” he says, pulling out the parchment and holding it out to you.

“Me?” A ginger grasp on the paper as you take it into one of your hands, unfurling it to read the contents. “Is this… the alphabet?” Various characters, both Korean and English, litter the page before your eyes in a haphazard, yet somehow meticulous, manner.

“To help you study,” Seokmin says with a nod, his English vocabulary not proficient enough yet to tell you that he’d seen you studying the language after your class and Mingyu had mentioned in passing you were trying to learn. In no way is he sufficient enough in English to teach you major words but the alphabet… maybe that would be more doable.

“Oh,” your eyes still scan the page, eyes widening in recognition at some of the letters that Mingyu had taught you, before you return to looking up at the man, “Thank you, Seokmin. This will really help a lot.”

His heart flutters at your words, and he can only nod and return your smile before awkwardly rushing past you and towards the class he’s already late for.

“What was that about?” Seungkwan guffaws as he settles into his seat, “Trying to make friends?” The younger looks back through the doorway of the class to note that you still have the paper in hand, carefully looking over its contents.

“It’s not like he fancies her or anything,” Chan shakes his head, noting Seokmin’s almost coy expression. “Oh my God, you do, don’t you?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Seokmin bites, looking up to the front of the room where Jeonghan’s about to begin his lesson. “She just seems… lonely.”

The lesson drags on quietly after Seokmin’s sunken into his seat, his fingers aching with the sheer amount of notes he’d taken over the course of the hour and a half. When Jeonghan has finished his lesson on preposition making, somehow managing to reprimand Seungkwan in the process, the teacher dismisses his students out into the hall. The handful of men shuffle out into the narrow space, bursting into the lobby like salmon fighting their way upstream.

“Mingyu?” Seokmin thinks he catches his eye as he presses through the throng of Chinese students heading to class.

“Yes?” He locks eyes with him, the two stopping in the hall as the crowd recedes and it is only the two of them remaining.

“You know English, right?” He asks his friend, stepping towards him as to not clog the entirety of the hall.

“Why does everyone keep asking—” Mingyu sounds almost exasperated at the thought, “Yes, I do.”

“Would you mind teaching me? Or at least helping me with mine?”

“I mean, I can try to,” his hand runs through his tousled black locks, “I’m learning that I’m not the best teacher though, so it may take some time for me to get the hang of it.”

“That is fine enough with me,” Seokmin nods with a small smile, “Thank you.”

“Of course…” Mingyu says as the other begins to walk off, “Actually, Seokmin?”

“Hm?” The elder turns on his heels to tilt his head at the other.

“Why do you want to learn English all of a sudden?”

“Oh…” Shaken by the question, a flush of pink over his cheeks as the main object of his want for learning lies only several meters away in the lobby, in other words: you. He shrugs, “I just thought it’d be a good language to get a leg up on.”

[ 1909.06.21. 鴨川、京都 ] “Arthur? Really?” Josh chides as he walks along the sidewalk, his hands busy holding several blankets as he speaks to the man. Behind him and Mingyu, you and Seokmin walk step in step, carrying assorted picnic gear of your own. You notice the way Mingyu’s shoulders shrug in the summer heat as Josh speaks again, “It’s not a bad name, but a little Doyleish,” he turns to glance back at you before looking ahead, “don’t you think?”

“I think it’s a perfectly fine name,” you shrug loftily, your hand raising to your brow to wipe away a few droplets of sweat.

“Defend him because he’s got an author’s name, I see—” Josh scoffs jokingly as he sees Jeonghan waving at the three of you as the river’s bank draws near. “I’m going to go and help him set up.”

“Forever the busybody,” you sigh, looking to the other two accompanying you, “Why did you come to Japan, Mingyu?”

“My dad’s company is thinking about extending its outreach here, he’s in Tokyo trying to negotiate something and I’m here just… Well, I’m really just here,” he laughs, something rattling in the basket he holds.

“Are you going to take over his business?” The inquiry falls from you quickly, not realizing that he comes from a presumably affluent family.

“When I get older, maybe,” he sighs out apathetically, “I want to be a novelist.”

“A novelist?” You perk up at the word, “Who do you like?”

“I really like London.”

“He’s great,” A nod as the three of you walk onward, “You know, if you have anything, I’d love to read it.”

“Really? You’d do that?” His eyes widen as he looks to you, stumbling over an uneven stone as he asks.

“Of course, Josh typically sends me novels from all over the world, but now that he’ll be here for a while I haven’t got anything.”

“I can give you a few pieces tomorrow at the schoolhouse.” A sheepish blush dusts his face, “I’ve started a manuscript but it’s still fairly rough.”

“That’d be great.” You smile and look at the others in your party, but before you can ask, Mingyu speaks up.

“And what about you, Seokmin?”

“Me?” The elder looks confused, as if he hadn’t been paying attention to the prior conversation. His attention elsewhere along the river before being interrupted.

“What are you doing once you go back home?”

“My father set up a position for me at his business,” A sour frown on his lips, “I think that’s where I’ll put myself.”

“There’s nothing else you want to do?”

“Of course, there is, but I’ve given up my frivolity for the working mindset,” another frown as he lies to himself. The only reason he’d fled to Tokyo is because of his frivolity and unwillingness to settle down so soon.

“I see…” Mingyu sighs, turning to you, “And what about you?”

“I suppose I’ll get married, live unhappily with my husband until I’m old and gray, and maybe after he dies, I’ll be able to do what I want,” humming as you’ve already given too much thought about the topic considering there aren’t many options for you. “If I were to have it my way though, I’d die a spinster, a book reading, novel writing spinster.”

“You write too?” Mingyu interjects.

“Not well,” a bashful smile spreads to your lips, “I’ll let you read some of my works once they’re written.”

“What did she say?” Seokmin asks, noting your change in demeanor.

“She wants me to read over a few of her things,” Mingyu says, looking from him to you. And then as if a light sparks in his head, he snaps his fingers, “You know. If you’re trying to learn Korean and you’re trying to learn English, I think helping each other out would be better than me trying to teach you.”

“If someone wasn’t chasing after James McAllen or whatever his name was, maybe she’d be a bit more proficient.” Josh guffaws as he saddles back to the three of you, the blankets he’d once been holding now lain on the bank of the river.

“French is still a good language to know,” you murmur, then looking up to Mingyu, and then glancing at Seokmin, “Although, that doesn’t really seem like such a bad idea, does it?”

[ 1909.08.10. 今出川、京都 ] “Is something wrong?” Your question pulls at Seokmin. For the last few minutes, you’d noticed that he hadn’t been working on the letter practice that you’d given to him when the two of you began your joint lesson. Instead, he’d been absentmindedly looking off into space as his hand draws thoughtless circles onto the page before him.

“No,” Seokmin jumps in his seat across from you as his gaze returns from the void where he sought nothing. “I’m alright.”

“Okay,” you nod, returning to penning out the sentences that Seokmin had given you. It only takes a few more lines of script before you get tired, stifling your mouth with a yawn before you turn back to your partner. “What does your father do for a living?”

“My father?” Seokmin asks, wondering what could’ve spurred this question, “He’s a founding member of the biggest news publication in Korea.”

“News publication?”

“The Seoul Daily,” he responds, “Although I have to admit I don’t read it often.”

“I see…” You say, not wanting to bore him with the simpleness of your own father’s profession as a clerk. “You know, I find it surprising that Josh’s here. He never likes to sit still. I thought he would be teaching somewhere by now.”

“Is he a teacher?” Seokmin questions, looking up from his work.

“Teacher, tutor, whatever the term is… but yes. He said that’s what took him from Seoul to Tokyo in the first place. And what took him from home.”

“Is he really?” Seokmin cannot recall Jisoo ever professing that his job was that of a tenured teacher, his degree had been in something of business administration if he recalls correctly.

“Did he not ever tell you?” A prickling of suspicion biting at your lips. During your luncheon with Josh some time ago, the same inkling of distrust in your friend’s word invaded you, you had brushed it off then, forgetting it until now. “He said he was staying at the American ambassador’s home.”

“The American legation shut down some time ago in Seoul,” Seokmin muses, catching the glimpse of shock in your eyes before he moves to speak again, “That isn’t to say that the ambassador has left… To be honest I’m not well versed in Joseon’s political affairs with western nations to know such things.”

“Really…” You hum, pursing your lips as you try to process it. Not wanting to lower the already stagnant atmosphere of the session, you look at the sleeve on Seokmin’s jacket, noticing something peculiar about it. “Seokmin?”

“Yes?”

“Is that hole in your suit?” You point your finger to the bit where the button should be on the sleeve.

His finger moves to trace the outline of the threadbare hole where his button used to lie, “I suppose it is.”

“If you ever want me to mend that for you, I should be able to.” You offer, failing to mention that your handiwork would be subpar at best.

“I may just take you up on that offer,” he smiles, only then to look back down at his notes, “Now, should we get back to work?”

[ 1909.08.15. 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都 ] The light of the candle on your desk flickers ominously behind its pale shade as you reach for the wrapped parcel Mingyu had given you earlier in the day. You’d received it just as he, Josh, Seokmin and a few of the other students were leaving the school that afternoon. They hadn’t asked you to go with them, citing some sort of man’s meeting in which you could only presume a visit to one of the city’s geisha districts again. It was a favorite pastime of one of the men, saying it was much better to talk business in the confines of a private room where one language was known among them all.

What they mean by that, you’re unsure. This is a school group, not a business venture, right?

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the thought as your fingers trace along the twine at the top of the large envelope. Unlacing it swiftly, you reach your hand inside to pull out a substantial amount of writing from Mingyu, some in his hand and some seemingly typed on a typewriter. The letters are strong, bold, and in the margins lie a mix of notes in both English and Korean. You try your best to decipher the latter but find it too scrawled to read, you’d practiced reading typed or printed Hangul rather than a messy author’s handwritten scrawl.

Eyes flickering to the top page, you begin to read over his work,

‘The halls of the Haut have lain in wait for a mildly jolting occurrence for some time now. Ebbed in an inky and sickly black of gloom that settles itself on every person, beast and object that dare enter its halls. Yet for those that traverse its rooms, the darkness is felt more as a way of life than of a looming threat, some finding solace in the flickering lights of the candles that adorn the walls every handful of feet while others have succumbed to the habitual nature of torment that resigns itself to its home.

The spark of candles igniting save them from that horror, for a time. A thought of hope, a taste of the light that has been longed for for eons at this point, as the doors never open and the shutters remain bolted in place. Candles are the only light available to the residents of the Haut, whether that is a welcomed gesture or not.

As the fires in the candles flicker endlessly throughout the day, I have come to a realization during my stay in the Haut. The light, shadowing across faces; new ones, ones they would see every day and faces they would never see again act as more than just a breath of hope to see the sun again. It acts as a catalyst, until their wick wanes low and it is to be tossed out like the ones before it, returning to an obscurity that prevails over all in the end.’

Mingyu’s thoughts penned down onto the page confuse you more when you read them over again. It is clearly alluding to more than a fictional Haut and the symbolism of candles is more than noticeable. You wonder why, of the fictional pieces that he’s told you of writing, he chose to place this one first. If there even was a reason, or if he had shuffled his papers together haphazardly before he left his apartment that morning.

You look from the page to the window by your bedside, noting the sun had sunk some time ago, the small clock on your desk reading half-past eight.

Almost as soon as your eyes settle on the clock, a knock resounds around your room. It causes you to jump and you quickly rush to the door to see if the men have returned. Upon opening the heavy door, you’re met face to face with Josh.

A bitter taste fills your mouth, but you hide it with a smile. The conversation that you had with Seokmin about your mutual friend had revealed a few things that you hadn’t known about your friend, and you’re still struggling to come to terms with the untruths he may have told you over the course of the years.

“I honestly expected you back later,” you say jokingly, noting the flush of red on his cheeks. He must’ve been drinking.

“Decided to call it a night early,” he shrugs. Josh stands there for a moment, as if he’s debating on whether to step into your room or not. It seems as if he opts not to, parting his lips to speak, “Listen… There’s something I want to talk to you about, you and I have known each other for a long, long time and I don’t think I’ve been very honest with my thoughts.”

“Your thoughts?” You give him a puzzled look; you had expected him to speak about something other than that.

“You see,” he starts, “I-”

“Oh,” a voice from outside of your room speaks up, both you and Josh look to see who it is. “If you’re in the middle of a conversation I’ll come back another time-”

“No, no,” Josh says quickly, motioning the other over, “We were only just chatting, Seokmin.”

“Hello Seokmin,” you give him a small smile as he returns the gesture. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I um, I wrote down a few poems for you to try and translate if that is of any interest to you.” The folded paper in Seokmin’s hand crinkles at the margins as he holds it toward you. You hadn’t seen it upon first glance. Through the thin parchment you can see his handwriting that has bled through a bit.

“Thank you,” you say, a small fluttering of butterflies in your chest as you take the paper into your grasp, “This was very kind of you to do.”

“It was no problem, really,” he waves his hand. “Well,” Seokmin says quickly, looking from you to Josh, although his expression shifts slightly when he looks to the elder, “I’ll leave you to your chat.” And with that, he quietly turns on his heels and walks down the hall, towards his room.

“That was cute,” Josh muses once Seokmin’s out of earshot, “Almost like a lovelorn schoolboy.”

“Don’t tease him,” you scoff, gently nudging your friend with your hand. “What was it that you wanted to talk about earlier?”

As if he’s remembered what brought him to your room in the first place, he quickly shakes his head, “Never mind it now, it’s a conversation for another day.”

[ 1909.08.19. 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都 ] The wicker wiring of the basket’s handle is rough and almost sharp in your grasp as you lug the thing down the long street in front of you. One of the ladies at the hotel’s reception had offered to help you but you’d kindly refused. Yet with the beads of sweat beginning to form at your hairline, you almost wish you had taken them up on your offer.

As you burst your way into the lobby of the school, several heads turn in your direction. Seokmin and Seungkwan look up from their hushed conversation and Jeonghan looks perplexed as he looks at what’s in your grasp, but makes no comment on it, only asking,

“What are you doing here so early?”

“Seokmin Lee,” a sly smile as you hoist the basket up, “Do you have the availability for me to steal you for the day?”

“I…” his eyes travel to those around him, their heads tilting in confusion as they probably think that this is you coming to reign hell upon him just as you’d done to Josh upon your arrival.

“I think he does,” Mingyu pipes up, realizing through the tone of your voice that there isn’t any ill will to be found. “Go,” he nudges Seokmin, “skipping class for a day won’t hurt you, believe me.”

“Thanks, Mingyu,” you smile as Seokmin walks forward hesitantly. Turning to Seokmin you smile, “I hope you’ve worn walking shoes; we’ll be going on a small trek.”

The two of you take a trolly south, and then another one even more south to the edge of the city’s limits. Seokmin had offered to take the basket from your grasp as he noticed you shifting your weight with it as you stood in the interior of the crowded car.

“I thought I might treat you to lunch,” You say as the car comes to an abrupt stop, jostling the passengers before you disembark, him following closely behind you, “if that’s alright?”

“Well, if I’m already here—” Seokmin accepts without outright saying it. “Where are we going?”

“That’s a secret,” you smirk, continuing to walk down the street.

It takes a moment, but you soon recognize several poignant features of the landscape that the hotel’s reception had pointed out to you. The town dwindles away, opening into a swath of open greenery and hills that roll on, seemingly forever. A few homes dot the landscape, you assume them to be the living spaces of the families that farm the land.

A rocky, dirt path leads you and him through a thicket of brush before coming out into a large field, yellow flowers saturating the landscape.

Noticing the way that your gaze seems to linger on the flowers as the two of you approach, Seokmin asks, “Do you like sunflowers?” Fingers dancing up one of the large stems beside him once the two of you near the field enough, his digits flitting up towards the petals bursting towards the blue of the afternoon.

“They remind me of home,” wistful thoughts as you turn towards him, attention turning from the blossom in your gaze. “My mother grows them in her garden.” You set the picnic basket on the ground, reaching to pick up a fallen flower before you look back to him.

Eyes locking together, his own breath catches in his throat as he realizes how close you are, how the sunlight cascades onto you in a serene beam, not unlike a spotlight from a stage production. A cough and he looks to your grasp, to the yellow petals and browned florets in the center. Seokmin doesn’t know this now, but he’ll come to associate you and these flowers together in a harboring memory locked in the library of his mind when some time comes to pass.

“Every summer the flower peddlers would come into town with their bushels of blossoms,” the memory can be recalled almost as if it were happening right in front of him. “My mother loves blue bells, my father and my brother both like carnations.”

“And you?”

“Sunflowers,” a nod as his hand retracts from the stem of the plant and into his pocket. “I like sunflowers.”

“You must be happy that we came here, then,” a smile flaring onto your lips, “I bet everyone else at the school is jealous I stole you away for a while.”

“Jisoo more than any of them,” head shaking in disagreement, “he dotes on you, you know.”

“Dotes and guards are two very different things, Seokmin,” the smile falters a bit as you think of your friend. He had been acting strange lately, almost as if he were a caged animal with no escape. Was it because you had followed him here?

“As he is not here I see no reason to fuss over him,” you shake your head, dropping the flower to the ground gently and turn to the assortment of snacks you’d brought. You open the basket, settling yourself down onto the ground near the stalks, and motion Seokmin over.

You reach inside to procure two glasses laying empty before you as well as grabbing a dark green bottle from its depths. “I had the lovely ladies from the front desk put this together for us last night.” Another rummage through the basket has you revealing a wine opener, the screw end eventually finding itself plunged into the cork in the bottle’s neck.

“Thank you,” you say once you’ve poured Seokmin and yourself a generous glass of wine each. While you’d fiddled with the cork, Seokmin set out to lay out the small bites you’d brought along.

“For what?” A piqued eyebrow as he reaches for his glass, slight confusion shadowing his face.

“Talking to me. I know Josh and Mingyu do as well, but I feel like everyone else ignores me.”

Never mind the reason being that they’d heard of how you’d tracked Josh down and were worried that should they get on your bad side they’d suffer a similar fate— Seokmin found their fear rather funny but would make a note to try and tell them to open up, it isn’t as if you’re a monster.

“Even if things are lost in translation— it’s nice.” Glass raised to your lips, giving the deep red a small sip before setting it back down.

“I’ll tell them to talk to you more, and that you’re not that mean,” he chuckles and takes a drink from his own glass, the spirit flowing rather smoothly down his throat. It doesn’t stop him from making a face, though.

“Are you implying that I can be?” A joking question as you peer over to him.

“Jisoo’s told me a select few stories,” Seokmin smiles, “but don’t worry, I’ll keep them private.”

“Promise?” You laugh out, only imagining what your friend had uttered. For a moment you catch Seokmin looking at you, a softness in his gaze and the smile on his lips seeming nothing less than genuine. It makes you pause for a moment as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Promise.”

The two of you sit and talk in the midafternoon light until the sun slowly starts to sink beyond the horizon. Not wanting to be caught in the countryside at dark with no source of light, you and Seokmin make your way back to the southern edge of Kyoto. Another trolly ride and a brisk walk, the two of you find yourself back inside of your shared hotel.

“Mr. Lee?” The receptionist calls out just before the two of you pass the desk. By now far too familiar with the myriad of Jeonghan’s students who filter within the walls of the hotel, many of the staff seem comfortable enough to call out to them whenever a parcel, letter, or telegram arrives. “A letter arrived for you this afternoon.”

“If it’s from Suji I want nothing of it until tomorrow morning,” Seokmin sighs before waving off the offer of the envelope.

“It’s from a Mr. Lee Jihoon,” she reads over the address, “It seems to be from Seoul?”

“Ah,” you note a glimmer in Seokmin’s eyes and a slight smile overcoming him as he retracts his steps and moves to quickly take the letter with a ‘Thank you’ before heading up the staircase, you following closely behind.

“Who’s Lee Jihoon?” You ask as he ascends the steps, the sound of the envelope being torn open quickly ripping through the air.

“A friend,” Seokmin muses as he reads his friend’s words, chuckling at a witticism or two strewn among the mass of text greeting him. “He writes of home, of my family and….” He pauses before he allows himself to speak further, stealing himself away so as to not embarrass himself.

“And…?”

“Of you.”

“Of me?”

“Ah, yes, uhm,” he scrambles for words, his cheeks flushing as he recalls having mentioned you in his letter a month prior. Had he known his feelings would have coalesced into something more than an intrigued observation and into a budding courtship, he may as well have left your presence from the letter to deter Jihoon’s prying ways. “I mentioned your arrival and he’s inquired on whether you’ve turned out to be kindly or not.”

“Well?” You question, brow raised as the two of you stop walking in front of his room, the basket in your hand reminding you that you’d forgotten to return it upon your arrival back to the hotel. “Have I?”

“If your actions today don’t speak volumes to your generosity, then I should call myself a fool for saying you’ve been anything less than kind hearted— more so than anyone else I’ve met here… To me, at least.” His small smile once again prods at the corner of his lips, “I won’t speak on Jisoo’s behalf.”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” another smile creeps onto your lips as you look down the hall, “I suppose I should be getting to sleep—Jeonghan’s homework won’t finish itself.” Before you’re able to turn back towards him, you feel Seokmin’s hand gently pull you closer and then the soft feel of his lips against yours.

You had kissed a boy once before, but it had been at one of your family’s Christmas parties when you were a little over the age of sixteen. Josh and a few of his friends had smuggled some of their own spirits into the festivities, so while you danced and sang the night away, you were barely able to establish the stupor you were in until the next morning where it had formed into a splitting headache.

Yet before the night had ended, you found yourself under the large oak in your family’s front yard, kissing one of Josh’s friends that eventually flittered aimlessly into the night, never to call on you again.

That kiss had been sloppy, a drunken miasma of endearing regret that culminated from one glass of madeira too many. This kiss though holds words and emotion far too under the surface of both of your skins to be relinquished properly. Of unsaid promises and a look for direction in a darkened tunnel.

It stays brief, his lips on yours lasting a few seconds, burning as they pull from you and his eyes widen.

“I’m sorry,” his hands fly to the hem of his coat, messing with the fabric as he searches for words, a flush of red coating his cheeks, “something came over me I just—”

And you kiss him this time, wordlessly as your empty hand places atop one of his fidgeting ones. He leans into you, the fear of angering you subsiding as more spontaneous feelings begin to manifest deep within his chest.

The two of you part, not gasping for air but feeling a significant lack of oxygen in your lungs. Seokmin stares at you for a moment, something forming in the glimmering of his eyes in the dimly lit glow of the hallway’s lamp.

“I—” lips parted before you interject.

“I should be going,” quickly speaking as you hoisted up the wicker basket in your grip. “I should return this before the ladies yell at me… See you tomorrow?”

Seokmin nods too eagerly to look remotely collected, “See you tomorrow.”

[ 1909.10.26. 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都 ] The leaves had just turned color the prior week, the sickly smell of their sweet decay wafts into the classroom’s open window as the sun shines directly onto Seokmin and his desk. If he weren’t in class, the man might have found himself basking and napping in the midday glow.

His mind remains anywhere but Jeonghan’s teachings at the moment. The courtship between you and he had only remained steadfast in the weeks following a short confession the day after he’d kissed you. Both you and he are meant to go to dinner this evening at a place Mingyu had recommended, although with the younger’s cruder palate, both you and Seokmin want to venture there on morbid curiosity alone.

Seokmin’s daydreaming of the evening to come ends when the sound of heavy footsteps begins to echo throughout the building. Having attended the school, as well as gotten to know its attendants, for a while now, Seokmin can tell it’s Seungkwan who’s just barged into the building.

“Itō’s been shot,” Seungkwan pants as he races into the classroom, “the paper just announced it.”

The younger looks absolutely pallid, sweat on his brow as his heavy breaths remain the only sound emanating from the group of students and lone professor.

“Shot?” The name stings Seokmin’s ears as he straightens in his seat. “Where?”

“Manchuria,” the paper procured from the bag in Seungkwan’s hands, extending out to the group so that anyone may take it.

Jeonghan reaches it first, scanning the headlines, “Itō Hirobumi, a prince of Japan, but the greatest commoner in the empire, who was assassinated by a Korean today, had stood for two years between Korea and the degradation of immediate annexation, hoping to build up that country anew. He was shot down as he alighted from a special train at Harbin, Manchuria, whither he went from Tokyo in his capacity as president of the privy council on a mission of peace.”

Gaze lifting from the print, he looks to the class, the paper falling down atop the nearest desk as others move to read it, “This is… troubling.”

Seokmin rises from his seat and walks to Jeonghan, scanning the rest of the article with bated breath, knowing that the ramifications of this were to be far more than just troubling. His stomach drops, knowing full well that this could mean a swift return home depending on how the Japanese government reacts to this, and even more worrisome- how the general public around them would treat his fellow countrymen residing in Japan.

[ 1909.10.29 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都 ] “Can I speak with you for a moment?” Josh looms over your desk where you’ve sprawled out your notes for the day. Ink stains riddling your fingertips as you close the textbook and look up to him, his hands buried in his jacket pockets.

“Of course,” you nod, standing from the small wooden table. Your hands brush the front of your skirts, smoothing the disturbed fabric before you watch him begin to walk off. Quickly, your footsteps trail after him, down the hall of the school, through the lobby and out of the front door.

You pass Seokmin and Mingyu on the way out, offering them both a curt wave before the cool winds of autumn greets you on the streets of Imadegawa.

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

Josh stays silent, his back turned to you as a cart ambles down the road. His shoulders shrug as if he carries Atlas’ burden before he turns to you and speaks, “The thought of you getting hurt if you stay around here for too long worries me greatly.”

“What do you mean by ‘hurt’, Josh?” A bubbling of strife in your tone as you ask, further culminating as you continue to speak. “Are you going to get hurt if or when I leave?” An angered step towards him, “I know you lied about having a tutoring job, why are you here?”

“I never meant-” He frowns, mutters ‘shit’ under his breath as he breaks his gaze away from you. Hand tousling the already disturbed locks, dredging down his face as he gently pulls at the skin with his fingertips before relinquishing his hold on his own face. “Who told you?” The question sounds accusatory as he fails to answer your own questions, “Was it Seokmin?”

“Even if it was, why do you care?”

“Because the longer you stay here you become more enraptured by everything you know nothing about. I see you fawn over him -- have been seeing it for the last few weeks now,” Josh shakes his head.

“And what of it? Am I not allowed minor courting?”

“The longer you throw yourself at him the more you will come to regret it when the time comes to part. You should be home, safe. Here you are neither of those.”

“Do you really think I am staying here for that reason alone? Just for him?” You nearly roll your eyes at him, “I went to Tokyo to find you! I followed you to Kyoto, I traveled across half of the world for you!”

“And you fell into the arms of the first man who showed interest in you! You never think rationally and look where you are!” His voice raises, not to an octave to draw attention, but enough to make you want to raise your own as well.

“I can say the same for you!” You huff, stomping off for a few feet, only to take a deep breath and turn to him.

“If you cannot believe that I have paused on the possibility of me leaving I would call you insane,” the incredulity drips from your words as venom does from the hollowed teeth of a snake. “There is absolutely nothing here for me in the grand scheme of it all, I know that. And yet there is nothing for me at home except for the anticipation of a life that I do not want without you in it.” Breaths heaving from your chest as you try and compose yourself to the best of my ability, “You’re my best friend, Josh, but don’t think that I can’t make my own rational decisions without your input.”

“You two are more similar than I could have ever imagined,” His eyes rise to the clouded sky as if he’s having a conversation within himself. After a moment he sighs, exhaling all the air in his lungs before he shakes his head and looks at you.

“I was never planning on going back to Seoul,” he frowns, “I really did have a job in Germany, not in Seoul, though. I received news that a friend fell ill. I decided to visit should he not recover from the illness. He passed on the first of May and asked me to visit a friend in Tokyo for him prior to his death.”

“Why you, though?”

“There wasn’t anyone that he knew in Seoul that would be allowed in Japan because of their acquaintance with him.”

“Who was this friend?”

“Ernest Bethel, I met him while I was with Daniel Lim in London.” Josh shakes his head, “He began a publication that called out the atrocities of the Japanese soldiers in Korea. They put him on trial for it and barred him and anyone that worked under him from entry into Japan.”

“Josh…” You begin but he cuts your words in two.

“With the climate now… With the growing disdain for foreign nationals after Itō’s assassination, I cannot guarantee your safety here,” the look in his eyes reminds you of an abandoned pup, lost and almost hopeless, “And that scares me more than anything.”

[ 1909.11.16. 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都 ] The days since your conversation with Josh had been nothing short of meandering, lessons, studying and then more lessons. Time with Seokmin had been almost always interjected with another student hoping to make conversation or with the looming presence of your aforementioned friend somewhere beyond. Although you remain unsure if Josh had spoken to Seokmin about his malcontent with your new budding relationship, you can almost ascertain something has been divulged unto him as his more public displays of affection have become intermittent throughout the days progressing.

And you cannot find it within yourself to press him on it. Jeonghan had assigned him a presentation project that he was to give in a handful of days and Seokmin had spent most of if not all of his free time in the little library of dictionaries and manuals that lay scattered about in the back of the classroom. Ink stuck to Seokmin’s fingers most evenings, and oftentimes most mornings as he seems rather unable to clean the stains himself.

As your thoughts linger on this, you look to the sedentary streets outside, the inside of the schoolhouse dim with the waning light of worn lamps and lanterns scattered around. A few passerbys occasionally look into the building, most just move on without a second thought.

Quiet resounds around the building, only the gentle scratching of your pencil atop your paper. The interior is quieter than usual on this Tuesday evening– many of the boys had gone out, drinking, no doubt. But you cannot be too angry at them, apparently Jeonghan, in his chase of school authority, had given them a rather difficult test last week and had announced the results earlier this evening. Judging by the demeanor of those who left the classroom, this is a much needed getaway. So, after a chaste, secret kiss on the cheek, Seokmin was swept off by the other students, leaving you sitting alone to complete your work in silence.

The seconds, minutes and hours tick away as you scribble and oft daydream into the ever becoming night. Then, you hear voices, feet scrambling and foreign words you only begin to comprehend as the doors to the school burst open and a plethora of bodies pour inside.

“What happened?” The confusion sweeping into the room, overwhelming as an amalgamation of movement and shouting in several languages begins to overwhelm you. It’s then you begin to count heads; Seokmin, Mingyu, Seungkwan, Chan…

“Where’s Josh?” Amid the chaos you look at Mingyu, dread in his face paling as the seconds pass. “Mingyu,” you ask, voice growing softer as a sickening dread begins to clamp around your abdomen, “where is he?”

“He was injured.” A voice to your right. Seokmin stands in the gentle twilight of the school’s entranceway, dusk falling behind him as he moves to shut the door. “Jeonghan has taken him to his friend’s home to get him treatment.”

Mingyu begins to call out to you, to deter you from what Seokmin’s just relayed. But you still feel that clutching dread begging you to ask for more information.

“Injured? Is he okay? Can I go and see him?” Voice now fraught with panic, you begin to question everything. “What happened?” Even if you and Josh had been at odds earlier, he is still a dear friend to you.

A glance downward and you see Seokmin’s hands, stained not with the ink you recall from earlier but red with what you presume to be the blood of your friend. Another glance around the room and you see some of their shirts and pants have oblong streaks of drying cruor adorning them, almost as if they’d been carrying the injured party.

“I think it would probably be best that we fill you in tomorrow,” Mingyu says with a frown, his own hands shoving into his pockets as if to hide any evidence of what had occurred, “all of us are… trying to understand what happened.”

“Hey, Mingyu,” Seungkwan says something offhandedly to him, but you’re too hyper focused to try and translate.

“Really?” Mingyu says to his friend and sighs out, shaking his head, a few beads of sweat that had been clinging onto the ends of his soaked locks fall onto the floor. He returns his gaze to you, a grimace set on his lips before speaking, “The group is going to go back out, we can walk you to your hotel if you need us to.”

But you do not feel like walking, you’re not sure that you can with the weight surmounting in your legs as the joints are locked into place. You let yourself have a strangled gulp before trying to compose yourself, “I will wait here for you all to come back.”’

“Are you sure?” Mingyu says hesitantly, “There’s a good chance that we may not be back until morning.”

“I don’t think I could leave if I tried,” you offer a weakened attempt at a smile. Hands clenching to try and stop the undeniable tremble coursing through you, the nauseating dread making you want to curl up and cry.

“I’ll stay back with her,” Seokmin speaks up from beside you, his voice soft among the chatter that’s occurring elsewhere in the hall.

Mingyu doesn’t speak, only looks from you to Seokmin before nodding his head in acquiescence. He calls the others over to tell them of their next plan, each resounding off a stuttered goodbye before leaving the school and treading back out into the now darkened streets.

You stand staring at the doorway for a while, you’re not sure for how long as time feels both encased in ice and unbelievably fast at the current moment. It’s only when Seokmin moves to close the door once more are you pulled from staring out into nothingness and onto something real.

His hands, bloodied and crude, remain at his sides as he removes them from the door’s handle and looks to you. There’s a glimmer of what looks like weariness in his eyes as he glances down to his palms, perhaps now only realizing to the extent they were stained.

“Let me get you some soap and water,” you tell him, quickly leaving him standing alone as you whisk yourself off to the small bathroom in the back corner of the building.

You grab the lye soap that sits atop the porcelain basin of the sink, only then to grab a bucket sitting next to it typically used for mopping. The contents dumped into the basin, you refill it to the best of your ability with the lukewarm water from the groaning pipes.

Returning to the lobby of the school, you find Seokmin sitting at one of the tables lying at the entrance. He’s watching the world pass by as he sits, his eyes lost as he distracts himself with anything but his present.

“Let me see your hands,” you say, setting the bucket down on the table top, as well as setting down the towel you’d slung over your shoulder.

Seokmin jumps before he turns to you, startled by your presence as he probably hadn’t heard you come back.

“There are bigger things to worry about other than my hands,” he begins to protest, only to have you shake your head at him and motion for him to extend his hands to you. And he does reluctantly, still sitting as you take his hand into yours. “Thank you…” his voice is quiet as you take the towel in your free hand and dip it into the water, only then to do a precursory scrub of his palm and fingers before lathering the soap onto it.

“...Can you tell me what happened?” You ask, dipping the towel back into the water, noticing the liquid turning a tinge pink as you do so. Stomach twisting, you can tell Seokmin’s reluctant to answer by the way the digits on his hand twitch.

He coughs to clear his throat, “We were in Gion meeting with one of Jisoo’s acquaintances. The name escapes me, Donggeun, I think— But things turned sour quickly, some man started yelling at us after he heard us speak and then Jeonghan tried to calm him down. He was speaking so quickly that I couldn’t understand what he was saying.” Seokmin recounts the event to you, but it’s still hard to get the gist of what had happened. “I know he said something about Itō’s death, but that wasn’t our fault,” tongue swiping over his bottom lip as you switch to his other hand, “even if it should have been. He got so riled up he called over a pair of policemen, we thought after talking to them they would let us go, but as we were leaving there were two shots that rang out. One hit the pavement beside us and the other hit Jisoo in the leg.”

Your grip on Seokmin’s hand tightens at his last statement, he winces and pulls away, settling his hand atop the coarse towel and beginning to brush off the suds and water that remain stuck onto his hand. For the most part, the gore and viscera that stained both his skin and nails had muted into a softer pink, splotchy, but for the most part gone. He heaves out a breath, unable to look at you as he composes his thoughts,

“I don’t think it was the officers who fired, though. Jisoo said that it was as we were carrying him off but when I looked back the officers had the man who was yelling at us pinned on the ground.” It’s hard to say why Seokmin’s relaying this piece of information, almost as if he’s doubting himself. “We took Jisoo to one of Jeonghan’s friend’s houses, you should probably be able to see him late tomorrow or the next day depending on how things go.”

Hands fumbling around with the rag in your hands, you nod and drop it into the bucket with a soft plop. “Thank you for telling me.” After a moment you move to grab both sides of the bucket, returning to the sink in the small bathroom and dumping the bloodied contents down the drain before placing it on the ground.

You meet your reflection in the grimy mirror atop the basin, the dim light overhead casting strange and oblong shadows on your face as you notice how downcast you look. Eyes with dark circles, hair unkempt, more so than the typically casual look you adorn yourself with.

A tear, hot and scorching, rolls down your cheek, a mass of guilt engraving its way on the hallows of your face before it drops into the sick.

“Are you… okay?”

Maybe you’d been in here longer than you thought, Seokmin’s voice calling out after a gentle knock on the bathroom door. The light above flickers from the rumble of an incoming train somewhere in the distance, your hand falls to grip the basin of the sink, porcelain cool against your skin as you brace yourself to speak.

A cough into your hand, a look from your bleary eyes into your bleary visage in the mirror at Seokmin’s words.

“I’m alright,” you say to yourself more than Seokmin, turning to open the door. You meet him, face to face in the dark hallway of the school and absolutely crumple. “I’m alright,” this time you say it while falling into him, face pressing against his shoulder as the wells of tears brimming stain into the gray of his coat.

His hands find yours after a moment, gently pulling you towards the lobby of the school, the quiet sounds of your footsteps ringing around the hall. You find seating on the staircase leading to the second floor, Seokmin quietly sitting next to you, letting you weep all you need to.

Soon you find that your tears run dry, leaving hot and sticky trails down the sides of your face as Seokmin continues to provide quiet comfort, one of his hands still entwined with yours.

Head on his shoulder, your eyes trail to the dimly lit street outside, not a single person caring or knowing the strife you’re riddled with. It’s hard to ascertain whether you’re unbelievably angry or unbelievably upset, but your breaths lay heavy in your chest laden with that uncertain feeling.

“I think I’d like to go back to the hotel,” the statement cold as it leaves you, anything but the comfort of which you desire set into every syllable.

The walk back is forgotten in the haze of the events that transpired earlier in the evening, glowing lanterns buzzing with an electricity seen only to you and dimmed in the darkness encompassing your very being.

Your lips don’t speak another word until you’re standing in front of your door at the hotel, Seokmin standing beside you in silent solidarity. Fingers grasping for the small key in your bag, hesitating before you slide the gilded thing into the lock. Turning to Seokmin you softly ask, “Can I stay with you tonight?”

The statement that would typically leave him flustered and pink takes on the air of a silent plea tonight. Anguish in your eyes and voice that you lay in front of him, vulnerable and nearly at your wit’s end.

“Of course,” it’s nothing short of a quick response, his hand sliding into yours as he waits for you to take the first few steps towards his chamber.

As you enter his room, you find that the only garment you discard is your jacket and shoes, flung atop the sofa and scattered on the floor before you fall into Seokmin’s bed. The scent of him fills your senses, only more so when he comes to kneel by the bedside so he can speak to you.

“I’ll sleep on the settee, try and get some sleep so we can visit Jisoo tomorrow.”

“Seokmin, I can nearly see your breath from here,” you reach out, taking his chilled hand into yours, gently pulling him towards the bed, “sleep in your own bed.”

“I should think a lady deserves a proper–”

“We can sleep on it together,” a pause as heat rises to the flesh on your cheeks, “Separately, of course. I just need the proximity of someone comforting.”

“You honor me,” Seokmin's smile curls at the edge of his lips, “I’ll go change in the bathroom, please make yourself feel comfortable.”

For a moment more, Seokmin pauses, looking at you before you relinquish him from your grasp. He makes a slow approach towards the bathroom before heading inside, the door locking with a small click, leaving you alone with the empty space of the main interior.

[ 1909.11.19. 今出川ホテル、京都 ] The space of your dreams is nothing but a black, endless void that only aids in helping grow the gnawing anxiousness that pervades you even during sleep. It isn’t until the unfamiliar feeling of a hand ghosting your side pulls you from slumber. For a moment your heart races, your own hand reaching to grasp as the one hovering over you now—

“Sorry if this is too-” A sigh escapes you as Seokmin’s whisper grounds you in quiet reality. “You seemed troubled.”

“Don’t apologize,” your voice rough from sleep, the ghost of your fingers atop the smooth surface of his hand, gently pressing the pads of your fingertips to him as a quiet gesture. You don’t turn to him from your side, instead looking towards the thick blue velveteen curtains that obscure any notion of light from the outside in front of you. “It’s alright, I promise. Are you alright?”

From behind you can feel the bed shift with a short, unfunny laugh from his chest, “I don’t know. I suppose I am but tonight… I think it’s shaken everyone.”

“Do you think Josh will be okay?” A murmur from your lips as you gently pull Seokmin’s hand closer to your chest in want of comfort.

Another shift, and you can tell he’s gingerly moving himself towards you, “He has to be.”

The call of the darkening void begins to etch its way around your vision. How can you sleep at a time like this? You should be racing over there now to see him. But that would make it real, the peril, why Josh had been anxious about you staying those handful of weeks back…

With a squeeze, you relinquish Seokmin’s hand from your grasp and he returns it to its original position on your side, “I don’t know if I made the right decision coming here,” voice lost into the darkness of the room, in the breathing by the being beside you, you think to be asleep.

“I don’t know if I did either,” a sleepy response from Seokmin, voice riddled with a tired concern ringing in its whisper. “But I don’t regret it,” his hand laid across your waist ever so slightly grasping at you as if to show his unspoken thoughts.

[ 1909.11.18. 滑川康男の住居、京都 ] The areas of Kyoto you had previously traversed seemed to be marketed towards a more foreign influence, you’ve come to surmise. Now as you walk anxiously with your hands threaded together through rows and rows of wooden-sided homes with thatched or tiled roofs, you’ve begun to see past the veneer of opulence that sought to bring in the traveling and wanderlustful for what the average citizen sees on a day-to-day basis. It is no more humble than the homes of Boston, in a way it reminds you almost nostalgically of what and who you left behind across the ocean and near an entire continent. A cat lazing on a nearby stoop gives you pause for a moment before you continue, lengthening your strides as you return to your party.

“When Josh’s better he’ll need to return to Minnie.” You say rather assuredly, willing it to be, as Seokmin and you trail behind Jeonghan.

“Is that his… Friend?” With the way Seokmin emphasizes the last word you cannot help but let out a stifled chortle.

“She’s a cat,” you answer him quickly and he nods in understanding. “Did you have any pets growing up?”

Seokmin looks ahead at the road in front of him, the bustling streets hindering your path for a moment, the crowds coming in and out like the tides along the river. “We had a dog to guard the house, he might still be there but he was old and gray when I left. Not really a pet, though.”

“I see…”

“We’ll be there soon,” Jeonghan calls from up ahead, “It’s just around this block.”

With those words you subconsciously find your legs moving even faster towards your friend.

The house that you arrived at was much like the other ones lining the streets. You’re welcomed in quietly by the host, their name eluding you as your vision tunneled to where they said your friend lay in quiet rest.

“He should be awake,” Jeonghan says quietly, “Go and speak with him, we’ll be out here if you need anything.”

Down the hall, first room on the left. That’s where you find Josh looking outside, one of the sliding doors open to look towards the inner garden of the home, facing away from the sliding door you'd entered from. He lays in a futon, a stack of fresh bandages on the tatami next to him. With the way his breath rises and falls, you're unsure if he’s asleep or not.

“Josh?” You ask gingerly, stepping into the room. “Are you awake?”

When you hear him mutter out something you take a few strides toward him. His injured right leg remains covered by a blanket, held up by what you assumed to be a propped up pillow. There are beads of sweat pooled on his forehead as he turns slowly to meet your gaze.

His name leaves your mouth in a whisper as you fall to his side, knees thudding atop the tatami as you inch yourself closer. “How are you?” You wince at the question, fully knowing it wasn’t the best one to be asked.

“I’ve…” The words are slow to come, hoarse from a throat rung raw from pain, no doubt. “I’ve been better. Would you mind fetching my water? I’m not very amble at the moment.”

“Of course,” You say quickly, looking to the nightstand where a singular glass and water filled bucket lay. You notice your hands trembling slightly as you hand him the glass and help move it towards his lips. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, I just had to see if you…”

“I understand,” he says, you notice his face is pale. Too pale for comfort.

“You’re absolutely feverish,” the back of your hand pressing gently against his forehead. Your free hand reaches to one of the rags already submerged in the basin of water atop the nightstand. “Were you injured anywhere else?”

“My pride remains intact, my morale slightly asunder but I’m sure it will recover in time,” he flashes you a weak smile. “I never like making you worry, even if it seems that’s all I make you do.”

“Do you remember when you were twelve and you had scarlet fever?”

“I remember being absolutely miserable,” Josh murmurs out, wiping the beads of water away from his eyes with the fabric of his shirt.

“Your mother sought out any doctor she could find to try and help you, and the plethora of holy men too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rabbi and an Episcopal priest in the same room as each other before,” you snort, recalling how frantic his mother had been. It had been scary, but he had made it.

The frown on his face encapsulates him for a moment and his eyes close, his head hitting the wall behind him gently, “You said that you loved me.”

It feels as if your heart has dropped into your stomach. You remember kneeling by his bed, whispering prayers to any and all gods that would help him recover from that illness. His pinkend and rashed flesh on display as the doctors said exposing the areas of effect would cause it to weaken the strain of disease, maybe. Under heavy sedation of laudanum and whatever other mystery tincture, it had stripped him of happiness and prayer was the only thing you offer, it wasn’t as if you were a physician or miracle man. Also, hadn’t he been asleep when you confessed that at his bedside?

Freezing before you’re able to dip the rag in the bucket again, “That was years ago, Josh. I do love you but not…”

It’s him that stifles a laugh, “I know. But it is still endearing that you’ve stayed by my side, I really do appreciate it.”

“You ass,” a gentle nudge, “You must truly be ill if you’re complimenting me for my duty as your best friend.”

“You’re probably right,” he replies breathily. His hand reaches out, and you take it instinctively. His grip is weak but reassuring. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You sit there in silence for a few moments, the only sounds being the rustle of the barren branches tapping against one another and the occasional chirp of birds. The tranquility of the scene contrasts sharply with the turmoil you feel inside. Josh has always been the strong one, the one to pull you out of your own dark times. Seeing him like this, vulnerable and dependent, shakes you to your core.

“You should rest,” you say softly, breaking the silence. “You need your strength. Did you want me to close the doors? It’s getting rather cold in here.”

He shakes his head, but you can see something stirring within. Words lay heavy on Josh’s tongue, you can see him formulating his thoughts before he speaks abruptly. “I’m going to Tokyo,” Josh sighs after a moment, sounding resolute. “After this,” his hand waves to his blanketed leg, “is healed.”

Now it is your turn to frown, “Tokyo? Whatever for?”

“It’s come to my understanding that my friends haven’t been making any headway for our cause,” Josh sighs out and you have the feeling he’s intentionally being vague.

“Why not ask the American government for help?” Even if he chooses to don the masque of ambiguity, you can still infer what he means.

“America and Japan have been formulating plans together for some years now, exercising their rights with one another. That’s how America gained control of the Philippines and Japan got control of Korea, the Pescadores, Taiwan and parts of Manchuria,” Josh relents after a moment. With the way his eyes widen briefly you can tell he’s already opened the door slightly for what his intentions may be., “I have hope and reason to believe that I can be more impactful if I reach the Korean consulate in Tokyo. I fear America will not be of any aid.”

You take a deep breath, your hands still trembling slightly. “I understand your passion, Josh. I truly do. But promise me you won’t make any hasty decisions. Rest, heal properly. Then we can talk about how best to proceed.”

He nods, though you can tell he’s only partially conceding to your point. “I’ll rest. But I can’t promise to delay for too long.”

His stubbornness is both frustrating and admirable, and you feel a surge of protectiveness over your friend. “That’s all I can ask for now. Just... don’t push yourself too hard.”

Josh gives you a faint smile. “I’ll try not to, for your sake.”

You return to the main room, Jeonghan, Seokmin, and Jeonghan’s friend sitting around and not speaking.

Seokmin stands as you enter, his hands twisting together as he notices the dour look on your face, “How is he?”

“As stubborn as ever,” you sigh out, “But I think he’ll be okay, I cannot be certain about the usage of his leg though–?” Eyes trail to Jeonghan and his friend, the latter of whom stands to address you.

“Apologies for not introducing myself, my name is Otomonoi Hiromu. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances but the doctor that was here earlier this morning said your friend would recover, albeit the mobility of his leg may be altered. The bullet failed to hit any major artery but shattered the bone of his femur…”

Your stomach rolls and you nod your head slowly, “How long will his recovery take?”

“With the application of the Thomas splint anywhere from three to six months,” Jeonghan interjects, “We’re planning on having him moved to my residence within the next day. I fear we’ve encroached on Hiromu’s kindness too much already.”

“It’s truly no issue Jeonghan,” Hiromu nods and looks back to you, “Please let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” You say curtly and glance to Seokmin, “Did you wish to speak to him?”

“I think Josh needs his rest,” Seokmin says softly, and as if your apprehension is palpable suggests, “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

“Oh? Okay,” you murmur and take the arm Seokmin offers you.

“We’ll meet you back at the school tomorrow evening if you wish,” Seokmin states to Jeonghan. “I cannot imagine that classes will be held today or tomorrow?”

“No, they won’t be.” Jeonghan nods, “I’ll send out letters informing the students of our reopening sometime later this week or next. Until tomorrow then.”

“Until then,” Seokmin then leads you outside, past the gate of the home and back to the busy streets. The two of you walk in silence, the churning in your stomach not lessening, despite your far proximity to the house in which Josh lay. “How are you feeling?” His voice breaks through to your thoughts after another few moments of walking.

“I did not see his leg,” you murmur, “but with the blood and panic of everyone yesterday I can surmount that it is no simple injury…”

“That isn’t what I asked,” Seokmin says softly, “I can only imagine the horrors you have felt in the last twenty-four hours.”

“No more than you, I suspect. I was not there when it happened.” You wince as you speak, unable to conjure the imagery of the attack in your mind. “I know Josh will get better, know that he is alive. That alone is enough to make me okay for now, at least.”

[ 1909.12.31 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都 ] Josh’s leg never healed fully. While he can apply pressure, a tearing pain sometimes courses the length of it, so, rather to be safe than sorry, he’s become acclimated to walking with a wooden crutch to catch himself should he ever find himself unstable. Aided by the arm of another, Josh slowly makes his way down the streets of Kyoto.

“I could have made it on my own, you know.” Josh’s voice escapes him in a plume of white, the breath intermingling with a few flakes of snow dancing towards the icy and muddied street below. A thin line of perspiration begins to form along his brow, but as it hits the frigid air it makes his body seem almost colder. “My speed has been reduced but I do not need such constant attending to.”

“She asked me to escort you,” Seokmin says, releasing Jisoo from his grasp, “I could do nothing but oblige.”

Jisoo lets out a short, dry laugh at that, “She has a way of ordering us around.”

The two of them walk still, their cheeks becoming more and more reddened with the wind that whips at them, slashing through the air at no measurable pace. There are few others on the road at this hour, the streetlamps glow in the nighttime, leading them further into the heart of the city. It isn’t until they come upon the familiar building which houses Jeonghan’s school that a liveliness begins to pervade the wintry night. Music drifts from the building, as does the sound of chatter and laughter.

“Is that… A piano?” Seokmin asks, both he and Jisoo know there were no instruments to be found in that building prior.

“A phonograph, perhaps.” Jisoo murmurs as they stop outside, noticing a figure loitering around the front. A plume of smoke rises from the turned figure, Jisoo lets out a sigh and calls out to them, “If your mother knew you were smoking, she’d have your head Mingyu.”

“Shit-” The younger jumps as he’d not heard the two approach. “She only wrote a scathing letter once about my allowance usage and that’s all you can remember of her.” Mingyu turns to the pair, “I’m happy you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Jisoo flashes him a small smile. “I think it’s a bit too cold out here for me, so I’ll see you inside?”

“Of course,” Mingyu nods, “And be careful– I think Jeonghan was a bit… heavy handed with his pours tonight.”

It isn’t long until the two of them make their way into the now cramped space, soon finding themselves with a respective rum punch in hand. Jisoo notes the faces that pass, most looking to the crutch at his side, and it leaves a sour taste on his tongue. Despite the people, he doesn’t find you among the faces that shift by him, and by the way Seokmin scans the crowd next to him, he cannot find you either.

Eventually Jisoo and Seokmin find you at the keys of an upright piano. An upright piano that had not been there the week prior, which had been the last time Jisoo had visited the school. A cordial glass in hand, your free one seeks to play a small accompaniment to a piece that Seungkwan plays while seated next to you on the bench.

“I never knew you knew how to play!” Seungkwan says loudly, lifting his hands from the keys and reaching for his own glass atop the piano.

“My mother made me take absolutely tear-inducing lessons when I was younger,” you laugh, taking a sip from your drink. You recoil a bit from the flavor, “Although I must admit it has come to my aid at parties, even though there is much to be desired.”

“I was unaware you played as well,” Seokmin notes as Jisoo and he approach the bench, “You play wonderfully.”

“It was Seungkwan doing all of the work,” you admit, “And Josh can attest to my skill, as poorly as it is.”

“I’ll adamantly deny your assessment, you played a lovely set at my mother’s birthday several years ago,” He gives you a warm smile. “So much so that she begs me every year to urge you to play again for her.”

“Well, if I am back in time to play for her next year, you can consider me booked.”

“Then I must write to her to let her know of it,” He says and you turn your attention back to the piano. Jisoo’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he sinks into the crowd, looking for Jeonghan. It isn’t long until he finds his friend mingling with a few of the Chinese students in one of the classrooms.

“Would you all mind if I stole him away for a while?” Jisoo asks the group, while nodding his head towards Jeonghan. “Business, I’m afraid.”

Within a few moments the students have cleared the room, only leaving the two of them together. Josh sighs, setting his glass down onto one of the tables, and leaning against it slightly.

“Where in the world did you acquire a piano?”

“Do you like it?” Jeonghan smiles, “Hiromu’s sister was moving houses and had to do away with it… Too gauche or something of the like.” He hums and takes a sip of his drink, an old fashioned by the look of it. “Now, what is it you want to talk about? I know you cannot have asked to clear the room over a piano.”

“Am I that easy to read?” Jisoo laughs, glancing to the hall to make sure no one was listening. “It is my intention to go to Tokyo within the upcoming week or so. I hope to have your discretion on the matter.”

“Who is it that you wouldn’t want to– Ah.” Jeonghan begins to ask, “You’ve already run off on her once, are you so eager to do it once again?”

“It isn’t as if I wouldn’t come back to her, I never intend to hurt her as I did before.” The taller sighs out, reaching for his drink. He takes a hearty swig, “She is my oldest friend and confidant of all things unrelated to the reasons that brought me here. I had only hoped to keep these two spheres of myself from ever colliding. But she is a whirlwind I can never account for.”

“And what is to stop her from following after you once more?” Jeonghan prods, “She is a whirlwind, after all.”

“Seokmin.” Jisoo says simply.

“He’s staying here?”

“No,” Jisoo shakes his head, “He’s coming with me. With both he and I’s assurance she will have to accept that we will return. She adores him too much to allow him to put himself in harm’s way.”

“What a gamble, thinking that she’ll do just that.” Jeonghan muses, knowing fully how well you seem to take heed from either of the two men. “As a friend I will not say anything to make her feel untoward towards your departure. But you cannot be angry with me if she chooses to go after you.”

“How could I?” Josh says with a small, thankful smile. “Now, I was also hoping to get a few contacts from you, although I suppose that can wait until after this little soiree. Apologies for taking you away from it.”

“It’s not an issue,” a wave of the thought away. “Now have fun, be merry. Mingle before everyone begins falling over themselves.”

And fall over themselves they do. The hours seem to pass in minutes with games, stories and revelers in abundance. Jisoo finds himself flitting from group to group, with Mingyu and you speaking of prospective stories, to Seungkwan, Chan and Junhui arguing about some type of grammatical dissimilarity in Japanese compared to Korean and Chinese. He passes Seokmin at some point, who seems to be chatting with one of Jeonghan’s invited friends about the news industry. The party goes on late into the night, and it seems by the quarter hour another person has to step outside to regain their composure from the drunken stupors they find themselves in.

At one point, as the clock nears towards the end of the night and into the new year, Josh escapes from the bustle and sits on the stairs that lead to the second story of the building. He settles down, a third drink of the night placed on the stair next to him and his wooden crutch leaning against the wall.

A sigh escapes him and he tilts his head backwards, several joints popping in his neck. His eyes close and for a moment he listens to the chatter floating by him, of merriment and not the sinister dread that invades him most hours of the day. In another life he may have been able to enjoy tonight, but that path died early on in his life, especially since his first visit to Korea nearly fifteen years ago. A pang shoots up his leg as he shifts, reminding him more of the peril that he puts himself into. And another pang begins in his stomach, clenching and festering as he is reminded of the danger he has put you into.

Jisoo laments not writing to you before he left Korea, perhaps that would have diminished his fears. He laments telling his mother a portion of the truth of his detainment in Tokyo. He should have known word would get to you and that only God himself would be able to stop you from reaching him. He laments for keeping his thoughts to himself when he should have been more honest with you. There are many things he regrets, the ire of which is now before him as he hears movement coming from the hall of classrooms. With stiffened movement, he straightens and looks over to see you leading Seokmin out of one of the busy classrooms, your hands intertwined with his.

He thinks of saying something, to announce his presence, but before he can he sees your face near Seokmin’s. You plant a soft kiss on his cheek as you whisper “Happy New Year”. Seokmin’s hand breaks free from your interlocking fingers as he goes to caress your cheek, it lowers and he guides you to meet his lips in a kiss that Jisoo would not describe as chaste.

Jisoo looks away from the two of you, suddenly now very interested in looking at a poster of the hiragana alphabet hanging on a nearby wall. The two of them leave for the party after a few more words that are too whispered for Jisoo to hear, and he himself decides that he should return as well. After more mingling among the students and friends, he excuses himself, but not before asking Seokmin to join him for a cigarette.

“Okay,” Seokmin cedes as he bids you a short farewell, promising to be back soon. He follows Jisoo out to the school entrance, the few flakes that had been falling from the sky becoming nothing more than a flake every moment or so now. “It looks as if the weather has taken a good turn.”

“If only it will stay that way,” Jisoo says, reaching for the case of cigarettes and matchbook in his coat. “Would you mind striking this for me? I’m afraid I am still hindered.”

“Of course,” Seokmin says, taking the matchbook and swiftly igniting one of the matches. He holds the flame to Jisoo’s dangling cigarette, making sure it’s ignited before dropping it to the snow below.

“Thanks.” Jisoo takes a moment, letting the smoke mingle with the cold in his mouth before exhaling deeply. “Have you been enjoying your night?”

“It’s been quite a lovely party.” Seokmin nods, “Have you had any issues maneuvering around?”

“No, not at all.” Jisoo responds before taking another drag of his cigarette. “I was wondering if you had told her about our plans to leave in the coming weeks, or if I should be the one to break the news to her–?”

A look of almost panic takes over Seokmin’s face momentarily, Jisoo can’t tell the full extent as the streetlamps light only but so much. His brow furrows as he looks on to the younger, “Am I to take that as you haven’t mentioned it?”

“No– No, I have mentioned it to her.”

“Then why do you look at me if I am a parent about to scold you?”

“I invited her to join us,” Seokmin says quickly as Jisoo lets the cigarette fall from his mouth to the snow below, “And I know you made note of not asking her to but with her aid I truly feel that–!”

Before Seokmin can finish speaking, Jisoo finds himself grappling the younger to the ground, the pain tearing through his leg be damned. “You fool–! It was expressly my intention not to bring her, are you deaf or so lost in your way you defy reason? Do you love her?” Both a question and a realization wrapped in a sentence too pained he hadn’t wanted it to spew from his lips. “Is that why you’re doing this?”

“Of course I love her.” Answered as if the question had been as simple as ‘Is the sky blue?’ Seokmin shoves Jisoo, so the two are now parted, sitting on the muddy ground. “But not like a disillusioned oaf. Think, for a moment, of the circumstance and not of her beguile that you too, seem to fall asunder to.”

The wetness of the earth begins clinging to Jisoo’s trousers, seeping up from the ground below. “In what way would she aid us? You’ve just about solidified her acquaintance with us and if we were ever to be found out…”

“Do you not think that she is aware of that?”

“No, Seokmin, I do not!” Jisoo shakily rises to his feet, reaching for the crutch he’d discarded in his fury. “I have had many friends die because they thought to speak their minds. Would you bear that responsibility for someone whom we both deeply care for? Her blood would be on your hand–”

It’s Seokmin who acts out not, sending a fist flying that collides with Jisoo’s cheek. The older falters, but is otherwise unmoved from the display of rage from his friend. His hand raises to the site of the newfound injury, and he tenderly touches it.

“I will take your anger as drunkenness. But you know the truth as much as I do.” Jisoo says solemnly, “I cannot make her stay, but you have put everything at risk by bringing her. It would be in our best interest to send her home.”

Seokmin’s breathing remains heavy as he nurses the hand he’d used to assail Jisoo, “You know she would never let us.”

“Then we do not allow her a choice.” Jisoo frowns, his hands reaching back into his coat for another cigarette, “I will play the villain but you must not fill her head with promises of a bright future. Everything grows more uncertain by the day and I wish for her to be as far away from this politicking and scheming as she can.”

#dokyeom x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #dokyeom fluff #dokyeom imagines #dokyeom smut #dokyeom scenarios #seokmin angst #seokmin smut #seokmin fluff #seokmin x reader

117 notes · View notes