37. He’s really into “couple” days. It’s a problem.

“So you can’t let go of his hand for the entire day?” Changmin asked, bewildered.

Kyuhyun shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. Unless we absolutely have to like for the bathroom or life-threatening emergencies.”

“That’s weird.”

“That’s Ryeowook.” Kyuhyun twirled a forkful of spaghetti and stuck it in his mouth.

“See, I don’t get that kind of super cutesy couple’s stuff,” Changmin said. “My girlfriend and I, we do the normal anniversary days, birthday celebrations, that kind of thing: but a ‘Handholding Day?’ That’s kind of extra.”

“That’s nothing. Every other Tuesday is Matching Outfits Day and we’ve been doing it for six months.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. Remember that Snoopy sweater vest Kangin made fun of me for last week? Ryeowook was wearing Woodstock.”

“…Dude.” Changmin leaned back in his chair. “Why would you go along with that? That seems like torture.”

“Not really. He decides most of my outfits anyways; I don’t really mind matching on occasion. And besides,” Kyuhyun said, setting down his fork to take a swig of juice, “it’s something fun for him. You should’ve seen our couple’s Halloween costume. Best C3PO and R2D2 ever. Plus, he’s already so excited to get legitimate couple outfits when we go to Korea next summer. It’s cute.”

“It’s still weird though.”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t say it wasn’t. But that’s kind of a given ‘cause if you knew Ryeong, you’d know that weird is kind of his default setting—”

“Excuse me, I am sitting right here!”

The two men turned to third petite male at the table.

“Of course you’re here, sweetie,” Kyuhyun said giving his boyfriend’s hand a reassuring squeeze. He hadn’t let go since breakfast. “And you’re going to be ‘right here’ next to me for the entire rest of the day, just like you wanted.” Kyuhyun planted a big sloppy kiss on the back of Ryeowook’s hand. Then, he went right back to chatting with his new coworker.

Beside him, he heard Ryeowook huff. “Just wait until Reverse Roles Day.”

38. He collects hats 🎩

Ryeowook owned a healthy collection of hats: 43, to be exact. They filled a sizable chunk of their closet. However, the petite male wore hats rather infrequently for someone you’d assume had a great liking of them. This was because whenever he wore a hat, it gave Kyuhyun some strange…urges.

Snapbacks were the least objectionable of the male hats, and so, Ryeowook owned two dozen of them (several were emblazoned with the logos of sports teams he couldn’t name if you paid him). But still, whenever he wore one, he knew he’d get a good hair-ruffling from his boyfriend at some point during the day. Kyuhyun said it was to fix the latter’s hat hair, but Ryeowook distinctly recalled several times Kyuhyun had walked up to him, lifted the snapback off his head, ruffled his hair, then put the hat back on his head, and walked away. Kyuhyun claimed to have no recollection of such instances.

Kyuhyun did, however, acknowledge that he had a problem when it came to hats with pompoms on them. Ryeowook wouldn’t even wear any of his cute winter beanies anymore because Kyuhyun would play so much with the puff ball on top. Nothing like having strangers side-eyeing you on the bus because your boyfriend is batting your beanie like a cat.

His hats had an indirect effect on Kyuhyun too. Ryeowook only had one newsboy cap but he was careful never to wear it on days that news-worthy things could happen since a big event coupled with any sort of flat cap—Kyuhyun was not a hat expert—meant his boyfriend would be seized with the desire to subscribe to half a dozen print newspapers and magazines. Why magazines? Ryeowook wasn’t quite sure, but they already had two-year subscription to Desserts’OnUs and therefore really didn’t need anything else.

And all other specialty hats? Forget about it. Kyuhyun’s complete inability to hold in any sort of laughter made wearing cowboy hats, witch hats, sun hats, and any type of headband with animal ears an impossible anomaly.

Honestly, the only weird hat-impulse of Kyuhyun’s Ryeowook ever found positive was triggered by the fedora. Because whenever he donned one of those in the vicinity of his busy boyfriend, Ryeowook could guarantee that in less than ten minutes, he’d be pressed up against the nearest flat surface in flush while the latter’s hands ran over the entirety of his delicate body and his lips breathed moans of pleasure and mewls of desire into the smaller’s sweet, gentle, needy voice. All while Ryeowook wore nothing but the fedora.

39. He’s really good at multitasking 

(and I know scientists say “multitasking” isn’t actually thing and your brain isn’t capable of processing multiple things at once and yadda, yadda, but if there was any example to prove scientists wrong on this one, it would be Kim Ryeowook).

The door opened to reveal Satan with a bowl of soup. Kyuhyun greeted him fondly.

Or, as fondly as he could manage propped up in bed with a sore throat and slight fever.

“Hey,” Ryeowook whispered, closing the door behind him to cut off the outside noise and light, “how are you feeling?”

“Better,” Kyuhyun croaked. He actually said it twice but his voice didn’t quite materialize the first time. “I fell asleep for a while, then woke up and stared at the ceiling for a bit.”

“That sounds fun.” Ryeowook settled on the edge of the bed, his devil tail twisting towards his lap. “I made you some noodles with broth. Think you can stomach it?”

Kyuhyun’s stomach growled a response. “Yeah,” he translated.

Eagerly, he lapped up the savory yet somehow refreshing soup. It was the first time he’d had an appetite in days, and he chewed every noodle with slow determination as if teaching his jaw how to eat again. In his greedy consumption, a bit of broth slipped down his chin. Ryeowook leaned over to grab the cloth on the nightstand. What little light shined in the room glinted off the tiny horns on his head. Suddenly, Kyuhyun’s hunger faded only to be replaced by guilt.

“How’s the party going?” he asked.

Ryeowook wiped the other’s chin and started spooning him more soup. It took him a moment to answer. “It’s…going, that’s for sure. Heechul and Gunhee just showed up a few minutes ago in pretty revealing drag,”—Kyuhyun choked on his broth— “but everyone’s liking the haunted-house-themed food so I guess it’s half-and-half so far.” He picked up the cloth again to clean up Kyuhyun’s chin again.

“Sorry,” Kyuhyun said, voice cracking.

“It’s fine.”

“No, I mean,”—he tried to sit up farther. Ryeowook put a steadying hand on his arm— “I’m sorry I can’t help. With the party.”

Ryeowook smiled softly and pushed back a of hair stuck on Kyuhyun’s sweaty forehead. “Don’t even think like that. You can’t help being sick. And really,” he said, “I’m managing.”

“Entertaining all the guests?”

“Small talk at all times.”

“Trick-or-treaters?”

“Candy basket by the door.”

“Prepping all the food?”

“I don’t know how I managed that one without you,” Ryeowook said laughing, pressing his forehead against Kyuhyun’s. “But yes: I did it and I did it all while making chicken soup for my deliriously flu-ridden boyfriend.”

Kyuhyun fell backwards, smiling. “I see you’ve sold your soul to the devil for a smashing Halloween party. I should’ve seen it coming.”

“Excuse you.” Ryeowook gestured to the dramatic red and black suit he wore embellished with sharpened tail and horns. “I am the devil. Or at least, I am when I’m without my egg.”

Kyuhyun glanced at the corner of the room. His white boiled egg costume sat propped up against the purple drawers, untouched.

“Ah, the tragedy of the Deviled Egg,” Kyuhyun lamented. “The world’s greatest costume pun gone unshared because of poor timing and a bad stomach flu.”

“You know, actual Halloween isn’t until Tuesday.” Ryeowook picked up the bowl of soup again. “If you get better by then, we can dress up that day and take a walk around the park, show off a little bit.”

“We’ll be known as the Homoual Egg-Pun Weirdos who terrorized Warren Park.”

“Finally, something I can cross off my bucket list.”

Kyuhyun continued eating his soup as Ryeowook continued feeding it to him, but now he savored the experience as much as the flavor. He knew he’d have to let the host return to the party soon and the occasional burst of noise from the outer rooms interrupted their little bubble, but Kyuhyun was intent on keeping his boyfriend by his side as long as possible. Because as good as the older was at splitting his focus, nothing felt better than to have Ryeowook’s full, unwavering attention directed totally and completely on you.

40. He once kept some old photobooth pictures in a box.

There was a problem. They didn’t say there was a problem, but there was a problem. Kyuhyun knew because Ryeowook’s mom called and Ryeowook’s mom never called. At least, she never called Kyuhyun.

He finds her in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. Another bad sign.

“He’s downstairs, tearing apart the basement.” Chop, chop, chop. Kyuhyun tries to ask something. “I don’t know what he’s lost this time. Something from years ago, I think. Something about you.” She continues. Chop, chop, chop. “He never thinks of these things before, you know, never organizes them. Just stuffs them wherever without any sort of label. Then you know how he gets when they’re not there anymore.” Chop.

She finishes the cucumber and pushes the fine shreds aside, Kyuhyun notes, into an already unreasonably large pile of veggie cuts. Like mother, like son. She doesn’t pick up the next carrot by the cutting board. Instead she heaves a great breath and steadies herself against the counter.

He asks where it is. And she tells him.

He heads down to the basement.

Ryeowook’s mother is wrong: “tearing apart” is too light a term. The basement is eviscerated, boxes gutted, files emptied; papers, both valuable and common, flood the floor. Bookshelves of memories so carefully arranged from years before lay massacred on the floor in a tornado of madness. And in the center of it all, Ryeowook panics. He is frantic. He rips through box after box, barely looking at its contents, only to look through it again and again and again, each time with a more fevering desperation.

“Ryeowook!”

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t stop.

“It’s not here,” he cries. “It’s not here.”

He moves onto the next box, tears it open, repeats.

“It’s not here. It’s not here.”

Kyuhyun wades through the papers to him, takes the box.

“What are you looking for? I can help.”

“It’s a photobooth, our photobooth—it’s not here.”

“A photobooth?”

“The picture! The photo slip with the glossy shine and blue and white frames around our faces…. It’s the photobooth!”

He grabs an old box, one he already emptied, and searches through that one again.

Kyuhyun has rarely seen his boyfriend like this. Ryeowook is absolutely and completely overwhelmed by the knowledge he’s lost something, something he must find right now or he will not be able stay away. It seems to come out of nowhere and usually fixates on the most insignificant things: a paperweight, a corkscrew, a pair of old backup glasses. And usually, Ryeowook will be able to find the object he’s looking for because in their apartment, they never throw anything away. But this isn’t their apartment. Kyuhyun swallows.

“Ryeowook, stop.”

“The one from the carnival. It was our first…our first anniversary—you won me Kiki—”

“Set the box down—”

“No, it’s here—why isn’t it here???”

“Ryeong-gu—”

“—Why—It’s our first picture—why—”

He looks up, eyes unfocused but still seeing.

“It’s not here.”

And Ryeowook collapses, falls apart in Kyuhyun’s arms who catches all the pieces so he can put them back together at a later time. He sobs the kind of ugly messy sobs that threaten to drown you in your own tears because they won’t let you breathe and stains Kyuhyun’s shirt with the heartbreak he tried so hard to hide but can no longer bear.

“—we’ll take new pictures—we’ll take a million of them—go to the mall—they have a photobooth—we’ll go tomorrow—make all the pictures in the world…”

Kyuhyun assures him with empty words. They’re backed by true intent, sure, but meaningless all the same. He knows the picture isn’t the problem: it’s the tipping point. When everything else has pushed itself up to the edge of an emotional cliff, one little thing sends it all rolling—no, crashing down, in an unstoppable craze of momentous emotion.

They are going to South Korea.

Kyuhyun is still a South Korean citizen.

Kyuhyun is not coming back to America with Ryeowook.

Because Kyuhyun is going into the army.

Two years: the wait has not even begun and it is crushing. They’ve known it—for ten months. That short? —like a fact of life. But now, as the date nears, Ryeowook cracks. Tempers shorted, sleepless nights of worry, and tears shed on lonely nights he thought the other couldn’t hear have all weakened the bonds holding Ryeowook together, finally leading to the loose mess of limbs and hopes in his arms now.

Blinking back his own tears, Kyuhyun shakes away feelings of helplessness. Instead, he holds Ryeowook tight, presses him together, and hopes those tears don’t dissolve them all the way through.

A/N: Not the end

Couple days: ForeverIsPossible

Multitasking: Hanzo242

Photobooth: ForeverIsPossible

Army: Hanzo242 (not a direct fact but was incorporated anyways!)