The next time they see each other is nearly two years later. They’re at a grocery store in the upper south side of Seoul where eggs are sold at a steeper price because the hens that laid them are supposedly happier than normal hens. Jeonghan doesn’t see the difference, but he buys the over-priced eggs anyway because he can .

He sees Seungcheol first, looking so terribly confused in the dairy aisle with a carton of milk on one hand, and jug of juice in the other. Jeonghan wants to say that his heart doesn’t clench at the sight of him, he wants to say that his hands don't lose all feeling, or that his mind doesn’t go blank, but it does, and he grips at the crate of eggs (because the damn eggs came in a crate) a bit tighter to keep him from bolting (to the door or to Seungcheol, he didn’t really know, but he wasn’t about to find out). He looks the same, though his hair is a lighter color, pushed up and coiffed in a way that Jeonghan knew probably cost a lot of money.

Huh… Their paint chipped walls and faulty heater almost seemed like a lifetime ago…

Seungcheol sees him moments after and the minute their eyes meet, it all comes rushing back. The bus ride that Jeonghan didn’t know the destination of (as long as it was away from the man that broke his heart). The nights spent alone in cheap motels curled up in a ball, missing the warmth of Seungcheol’s arms around his waist, or the ugly blue and yellow blankets that they had picked and had soon grown to love.

He wonders what’s happened to them… He wonders if Seungcheol threw it away along with everything else in their tiny little home.

Seungcheol quirks what Jeonghan thinks is a smile before making his way over and Jeonghan tries his best to lift the corners of his lips up (it ends up looking more like a grimace), before settling with a half-assed smirk.

“Well, well, well… Look at you, all polished and everything.” Jeonghan finally says, and his hand moves up to rest on Seungcheol’s arm, only to fall limp at his side because he didn’t realize it would hurt so much to touch him. He ignores Seungcheol’s flinch, instead placing the crate of eggs in his cart.

“I can say the same for you. Your pants look like you actually paid to have them ripped.” Seungcheol jokes, scratching the back of his head in a way that Jeonghan knew all to well. They share a soft laugh, shoulders shaking and heads bent as if they were sharing a secret. They laugh for a moment more before Jeonghan finally loses it. Before he can stop himself, he’s sobbing and his hands are shaking as they reach out to grasp at Seungcheol’s shirt. He doesn’t want to look up, doesn’t want to see Seungcheol’s reaction, so he keeps his eyes glued to the tiles of the grocery shop.

Oh how life must be cackling. Jeonghan’s crying in the middle of aisle twelve with the love of his life standing less than a foot away from him, two years after their horrendous break-up, a crate of 12 dollar eggs resting in his cart.

“I-I’m sorry…” Jeonghan finally manages, wiping the tears away with the back of his sleeve, though his hand is still gripping at Seungcheol’s shirt. Seungcheol still hasn’t said anything and Jeonghan still refuses to look at him.

“For what?” Seungcheol’s voice is gruff and Jeonghan flinches because he hates it when Seungcheol uses that voice. It’s been two years and it still has the same effect.

“I’m fine. No it doesn’t hurt anymore…”

“No, I’m not angry, but you should have known better…”

“I love you… And it’s okay, you don’t have to say it back…”

He knows Seungcheol doesn’t do it on purpose, but Jeonghan feels guilty all the same. He takes a deep breath before finally looking up, only to find Seungcheol looking down at him with eyes so intense that Jeonghan wonders how he lived without them for so long. He wonders how he managed to fall asleep without looking into those beautiful eyes one more time, how he got through the day without them there to greet him in the morning.

“For everything…” He answers and his heart breaks at the tear that rolls down Seungcheol’s cheek.

“C-Cheol, I-...”

“I love you.” It’s quick and breathy and so soft that Jeonghan almost misses it. There’s a silence between them and Jeonghan can’t help but let out an incredulous laugh, because the absurdity of it all was just crashing down on him like waves, and he’s happy and confused and happy some more and god, he loves Seungcheol so much that his heart feels like it’s about to burst.

“What?” He asks, and it comes out like a laugh that has Seungcheol smiling too because this was too crazy and impossible and perfect because he’s starting to remember how it feels to live again. To love someone again (but let’s face it, he never really did stop loving him to begin with).

“I love you.” Seungcheol says, voice clearer and louder, the certainty in his tone leaves Jeonghan weak in the knees.

Jeonghan laughs again and he probably looks disgusting because the tears just aren’t stopping, but he doesn’t care because Seungcheol just told him he loved him (in the middle of the dairy aisle, mind you) and this probably had to be the happiest he’s felt in a really long time.

“I love you, too.” He finally says and before he knows it, he’s being swept off his feet and into Seungcheol’s arms, the warmth and familiarity of it all overwhelming Jeonghan with so much love that he couldn’t help but keep saying it. “I love you, I love you, I love you…” He hears Seungcheol laugh and he wants to hit himself for not saying it sooner.

Seungcheol pulls away to look at him and Jeonghan wants to engrave this moment in his memory forever. This moment, no matter how utterly absurd and unromantic, with them standing under the flourescent light of their overpriced grocery store, between the meat and dairy, cheeks wet with tears and hearts so full of emotion, this moment… When they finally find their way back to each other.

“Let’s go home, Hannie.” Seungcheol says, resting a hand on Jeonghan’s damp cheek.

“Let’s… Let’s go home…”

---

It’s unconventional and only a bit too suspicious, Jeonghan has to agree, and he understands where people are coming from when they raise a brow at the two of them. If it were another couple, Jeonghan would probably think the same. What with the both of them now in a better place financially, he can easily see how money could have ultimately been a factor to their quick reconciliation.

But they weren’t any other couple, and had they still been living in apartments with faulty heaters and paint chipped walls, and had they have met in a dingy market with eggs that cost a cent a piece, Jeonghan was 400% sure that things would have still played out the way it had played out.

Because they loved each other, and their love was powerful and indescribable and hard-earned .

They were far from perfect. They fought and they fought and they fought some more, because that’s just who they were, but this time, they never came close to giving up on each other. They made that mistake once before.

They hold each other close at night and make promises they intend on keeping and when they look around their new home, with a heater that works just fine and with walls that have a fresh coat of paint that’s far from chipping, they know that it doesn’t really matter.

Because chipped paint or not, their home was within the warmth of each other’s hearts, and forever there it will remain.