A/N: You already saw some future!WFLT in Umbrella, so this is just more of that. I won't necessarily be making an entire future fic for WFLT after it's done, but I'll probably do bits and pieces of it like this.

It’s a personal thing.
 
          It has to come, one day, for all of them and like the two things every human does alone—for each of them—it’s the third. They’re born, they die, and in between, they come out to their parents. It’s something all of them have always known they would inevitably have to face and each of them faces it alone (with support, with back-up, but still alone) because that’s how it needs to be done. They’re all in it together, they all have to do it at one point or another, but it’s a personal thing and they all treat it that way.
 
          Yoseob is the first because, in a way, he really doesn’t even need to do it. He does it right after they graduate, the summer between the end of high school and their entrance into university. It’s nothing eventful, nothing even surprising, because Yoseob has always told them that his parents have always sort of guessed—knew, in an unspoken, un-mentioned sort of way—and now it’s just him acknowledging that they know and them acknowledging that they’re all right with it.
 
          Joon is next, that same summer, and they all think (know) that it has something to do with Seungho, but none of them want to say it. He comes out to his parents and his sister without telling any of them first and because the wounds are still fresh, most of them are afraid for him when he does it. But in retrospect, they all suppose they shouldn’t have been because it turns out much like Yoseob’s—Joon’s parents have always already sort of known, and love and see him no differently because of it.
 
          It gets a little difficult from there.
 
          Kikwang graduates the year after Doojoon, Joon, Yoseob, Junhyung, and Hyunseung, and he also does it during the summer before university. He tells all of them first that he’s about to do it and they all, Dongwoon in particular, wait with bated breath because this time, the reaction could be anything. And they don’t see Kikwang for an entire week afterward—they don’t hear from him either. When the week is over, Dongwoon is the first one to see and hear from Kikwang—tired, a little sad, but smiling because his parents are trying even if they haven’t completely grasped and accepted it.
 
          Partially because he feels obligated to and partially because it’s not fair to Kikwang if he doesn’t, Dongwoon waits just until his own graduation and also comes out to his parents. The reaction is split—his mother and brother are all right with it, but his father does the same as Kikwang’s parents. His father is trying, but it’s difficult and it’ll take time, but it’s better than nothing. The important part, though, is that neither Dongwoon nor Kikwang’s parents are forbidding them from seeing each other.
 
          (Even if they did, they couldn’t really because Dongwoon and Kikwang are in university—it’s why all of them at least wait until after graduation)
 
           Jonghyun does it because Kibum’s parents have always known and even though Kibum never asks or mentions it, Jonghyun does it because he wants to—he’s already graduated anyway, his parents don’t really like him anyway, so he does it almost as something to see how far he can push their boundaries. As it turns out, their reaction is nothing particularly eventful in that they’ve already dismissed Jonghyun as a lost cause. They claim that as long as it isn’t too public and Jonghyun does what he needs to do as their son and heir, he can do whatever he wants and be with whoever he wants.
 
          Junhyung and Hyunseung do it midway through university—together. It’s a personal thing and they each do it alone, but they still do it together. They decide that they’ll do it together because Junhyung wants to put something bright and sparkling on Hyunseung’s finger and that can’t happen unless their parents know. Junhyung, in all honesty, could’ve told his parents when he was still in high school because of Seungho—acceptance was almost one-hundred percent guaranteed. But he and Hyunseung gather their parents together and tell them together.
 
          Junhyung’s parents accept, Hyunseung’s parents are as Dongwoon’s father and Kikwang’s parents are—they try.
 
 
 
 
 
          University is about to end.
 
          Doojoon is left.
 
 
 
 
 
When I was standing at the end of the world
 
 
 
 
 
          Yoseob understands.
 
          It’s scary as and from Hyunseung as the calmest to Jonghyun who was literally in danger of ting himself from nervousness, they were all scared. It’s probably a disease that every teenager, every young adult, has. That disease where it’s built into them to constantly insist that it no longer matters what their parents think because they’re no longer dependent on them, so why should it? It’s a disease because it’s not true no matter how they all wish it was.
 
          Doojoon loves his parents—Yoseob knows that.
 
          Doojoon is as close to his parents as Joon is—Doojoon’s parents are his best friends the same way Junhyung and Joon are. And being that close to his parents, Doojoon also knows exactly what his parents think of this sort of thing—of people like them. It’s not the worst, but it’s not the most open of opinions—even compared to Kikwang and Hyunseung’s parents and Dongwoon’s father who are still trying. They’ve all seen the severity of Doojoon’s parents’ opinions despite his parents being warm and friendly and kind (Yoseob thinks there’s no other way Doojoon would’ve turned out his way if his parents aren’t the way they are).
 
          Yoseob understands, and he almost wishes Doojoon wouldn’t tell them (because maybe ignorance is bliss in this case).
 
          But ultimately, it’s Doojoon’s choice.
 
 
 
 
 
And couldn’t see the path
 
 
 
 
 
          “It’s like Dongwoonie said,” Doojoon says, as they’re and cooling down beneath the covers. Yoseob’s head is pillowed against his chest, one night in their apartment—the night before they go home for winter break. “It feels unfair to you.”
 
          Yoseob doesn’t say anything—he doesn’t say how fair and unfair don’t matter to him. If keeping it a secret forever will give him Doojoon forever, Yoseob doesn’t mind hiding.
 
          But that’s not who Doojoon is.
 
          Doojoon hates hiding—especially hates hiding Yoseob (hates not being able to share the person he loves with the people he loves) and even though, in their dreamy high school days, Yoseob thought that was all different kinds of sweet and endearing and perfect, nowadays—
 
          Nowadays, it just feels unrealistic and unnecessary. Yoseob thinks that maybe Doojoon needs to stop dreaming.
 
 
 
 
 
I needed someone
 
 
 
 
 
          Doojoon thinks it’d be best to tell his parents as soon as possible once they’re on winter break. They drive back in separate cars with Yoseob going to his house and Doojoon going to his. Doojoon says that he’ll get back to Yoseob as soon as possible (suspects that he might have to stay over at Yoseob’s, possibly, if things go as both of them expect), but that the older man might end up disappearing for a week the way Kikwang did.
 
          Yoseob doesn’t say anything.
 
          He just lets Doojoon kiss him on the lips in the driveway of the Yang house before the older man gets back into his car and drives off down the road.
 
          A part of Yoseob knows he’s being ridiculous and uncharacteristic. He’s worrying Doojoon when he should be supporting Doojoon because the older man is doing this for Yoseob as well as himself—it’s a personal thing, but it’s not a lonely thing, and all of the others were supported and supported and Yoseob isn’t doing that for Doojoon right now. This part of Yoseob that realizes how terrible he’s being knows that.
 
          Another part of Yoseob, however, still thinks that Doojoon is being stupid. If Doojoon knows how his parents will react, Yoseob doesn’t understand why Doojoon just can’t keep it a secret. It’s not like his parents are the type to want him to marry off or give them an heir—there’s Doori for that if it ever comes down to it. Yoseob doesn’t understand why Doojoon is pushing himself out into the desert when he knows that he has no supply of water or food or even a map.
 
 
 
 
 
When I was trapped in the darkness
 
 
 
 
 
          It’s because Doojoon has always been like that.
 
          Doojoon is still like that.
 
          Yoseob remembers how, in some ways, Doojoon fantasized even more than Joon did. Yoseob remembers how, in a lot of ways, Doojoon was far more of a dreamer—a romanticist—than Joon was. In the end, Joon’s dreams and fantasies and romanticisms were killed off right before graduation—some of them have recovered, but Joon will never be the way he was.
 
          Doojoon still is.
 
          He’s still the boy that Yoseob fell in love with in high school, and most of the time, Yoseob loves that. He loves that Doojoon still spins him around—that Yoseob can still run into Doojoon’s arms and the older man will whirl him around until Yoseob is breathless and smacking the other man’s shoulders to stop. Doojoon, even nowadays, still talks about giving Yoseob everything that Doojoon possibly can and Yoseob wishes that Doojoon would just realize that he’s already given Yoseob more than enough.
 
          He’s healed Yoseob, he loves Yoseob, he’s perfect to Yoseob (he’s maybe more than Yoseob really deserves), so Yoseob doesn’t understand why Doojoon thinks it’s necessary to literally give Yoseob everything. Contrarily to what they always preached and dreamed in high school, the world doesn’t need to know that they love each other. It’s probably a lot better if the world doesn’t know.
 
          It’s not that Yoseob doesn’t love Yoon Doojoon, the boy that stole him away in high school. It’s just that Yoseob wishes Yoon Doojoon, the young university student, would stop trying to be Peter Pan.
 
 
 
 
 
And couldn’t see the light
 
 
 
 
 
          As it turns out, Doojoon returns that very night.
 
          He climbs up to Yoseob’s room sometime before midnight (because all of the maids recognize him and easily let him in by now), after Yoseob is showered and changed and continuing to unpack the rest of his things. Doojoon isn’t carrying any of his bags so Yoseob assumes that he’s left them at his parents’ house and things couldn’t have gone that badly then.
 
          Doojoon’s expression, though, says otherwise.
 
          “What’d they say?” Yoseob asks as Doojoon sits down next to him on the floor, pulling Yoseob between the older man’s legs and holding Yoseob close, arms around the younger man’s waist tightly.
 
          Doojoon huffs a little, weakly playful. “How d’you know I’m not upset about my cat dying or something?”
 
          Yoseob stares at his suitcase emptily. “You don’t have a cat, hyung,” he says quietly, and slowly slides his hands over where Doojoon’s hands are pressed against the younger man’s stomach.  
 
          Doojoon falls into silence.
 
          “That bad, huh?” Yoseob says after the silence stretches on a bit too long. He feels Doojoon bury his face against Yoseob’s neck, breath ghosting against the side of Yoseob’s jaw.
 
          “They said,” Doojoon whispers, “that I can keep my inheritance and all that—that they won’t take it away from me. They said I can see you.”
 
          Yoseob blinks, frowning deeply and instantly because—wait—isn’t that good?
          “But they said,” Doojoon continues and Yoseob’s breath immediately starts to freeze because there’s more—there’s more and Yoseob doesn’t want to hear anymore. He wishes he could just pretend that it ended there and live in some cruel happily ever after that doesn’t exist (now Yoseob’s just being a hypocrite because he’s dreaming the way he’s been criticizing Doojoon for doing), “that if I see you—I can’t ever see them—I can’t see them ever again.”
 
 
 
 
 
I was waiting for the helping hand
 
 
 
 
 
          “Where’s your stuff?” Yoseob whispers.
 
          Doojoon meets his gaze. “In my car.”
 
 
 
 
 
You wouldn’t know
 
 
 
 
 
          Just like Joon, Doojoon is close to his parents—they’re his best friends.
 
          Anyone else, any of the others, including Yoseob (even though it would hurt them—even though it would hurt him) wouldn’t mind this ultimatum. They have their inheritance, they have the person they love, and it would be enough. It would be painful, but it would be enough and they would end the story there (they would try to go on even if their heart feels like it’s being stabbed).
 
          For ones like Jonghyun, it might even be better that way.
 
          But for Doojoon?
 
          It would kill him.
 
          It will kill him—if Yoseob doesn’t say something (if Yoseob doesn’t tell Doojoon that the older man doesn’t have to kill himself to make Yoseob happy).
 
 
 
 
 
That you are the only one in the world
 
 
 
 
 
          The next morning, Yoseob’s parents are surprised to find Doojoon downstairs at breakfast (rumpled and still in the clothes he wore driving down), but they welcome him anyway. Yoseob watches as Doojoon smiles and laughs with Yoseob’s father and mother as though the majority of last night wasn’t spent with Doojoon lying sleepless with his arms around Yoseob. Yoseob watches as Doojoon eventually sits down to eat with Yoseob’s parents and tells them the reason he’s here so early in the morning.
 
          Yoseob’s father says it’s tough to accept—says that Doojoon’s parents will most likely come around with time, says that their families are business partners so maybe that will make Doojoon’s parents take a few things into consideration if nothing else. Yoseob’s mother just pats Doojoon’s hand and says he’s welcome to stay until things clear up—that if it takes that long, Doojoon has to stay for Christmas because she doesn’t want him alone or without a family on that day even if it’s not his family.
 
          Yoseob skips breakfast.
 
 
 
 
 
When you found out that I ran away
 
 
 
 
 
          He doesn’t want to argue with Doojoon—knows that fighting is the last thing both of them need so close to the holidays, with all these problems, and the fact that Doojoon’s wire is close to the breaking point over the stress from obvious reasons. It happens anyway though because Yoseob is selfish, has always been selfish when it comes to Doojoon, is even more selfish when he’s upset that something is threatening to take Doojoon away.
 
          “What do you mean why would I tell them we’re dating?” Doojoon repeats, confusedly as he and Yoseob get dressed after breakfast, back upstairs in the younger man’s bedroom.
 
          “Coming out isn’t the same as telling them we’re dating,” Yoseob says quietly. “Don’t you think it would’ve been better if you told them one by one?”
 
          Doojoon shrugs. “They probably would’ve figured it out anyway since—”
 
          “You said that they said you can’t see them only if you see me,” Yoseob cuts in without looking at the other man. He stares out the window, shirt half over his arms. “It sounds like they’re okay with you being gay—they’re just not okay with you being with me.”
 
          He’s selfish.
 
          He’s the most selfish person in the world and he knows it—maybe that’s why he and Doojoon have always fit so well. Because Doojoon is selfless enough to catch all of the ugly parts that Yoseob hides inside. Doojoon is selfless enough to always accommodate Yoseob’s endless needs and wants even if Yoseob doesn’t ever give anything back—for years and years now, and part of Yoseob wonders if this is something that’s meant to last.
 
          After all, forever and always usually doesn’t last very long once high school ends.
          It’s made for some of them, maybe—for Dongwoon and Kikwang, Hyunseung and Junhyung, but they aren’t ultimately selfish paired with ultimately selfless. Kikwang and Dongwoon have been friends for longer than Hyunseung and Junhyung, Yoseob and Doojoon, have known each other even up until now. Hyunseung and Junhyung have been through such pain from being pried apart that they’ll never let go of each other ever again.
 
          Maybe that’s the problem with Yoseob and Doojoon—everything they have together has gone far too smoothly. The only bumps and ridges are all from Yoseob—Doojoon does everything perfectly and Yoseob provides all the obstacles—from the dark past, to the recurring ex-boyfriends, to the insecurity issues, to the trust issues, to the commitment issues, and Doojoon just sails through all of it because Doojoon is selfless and Yoseob is selfish.
 
          He feels Doojoon’s fingers wrap around his wrist, turning Yoseob around so that they face each other, tipping Yoseob’s chin upwards so their eyes meet.
 
          Yoseob hates how clear and sure Doojoon’s expression is (he hates how Doojoon can even actually manage a tiny smile). “If you think I’m leaving,” Doojoon says, “then you’re ing stupid, Yang Yoseob.”
 
 
 
 
 
Were you disappointed?
 
 
 
 
 
          He tries his best to smile back at Doojoon, to convince Doojoon that Yoseob is okay (he’s not—he’s the farthest thing from okay but Yoseob has to stop being selfish). He has to show Doojoon that Yoseob isn’t worried—that Yoseob trusts Doojoon, because Doojoon is doing everything he can and Yoseob is doing nothing at all.
 
          “You’re stupid, ,” Yoseob says and hopes that his smile is convincing enough (because on his face, it just feels like something hot and stinging is melting off).
 
          Doojoon grins (Yoseob can tell by the other man’s eyes that he’s not convinced at all), and tousles Yoseob’s hair, sliding his hand down along the younger man’s cheek and bringing their lips together for a swift kiss. “Yeah?”
 
          “ you,” Yoseob says, and feels his smile become a tiny bit less painful as Doojoon continues to grin at him.
 
          Doojoon wags his eyebrows. “You want to?”
 
          Yoseob slaps the other man’s arm (before he dissolves into laughter).

I had courage to come back
 
 
 
 
 
          The entire week is spent like that.
 
          The entire week goes by with Doojoon continuously driving to and fro Yoseob’s house to the older man’s own house, continuously trying to convince his parents, continuously trying to reason with them—to make them compromise something different, asking them to change their ultimatum—to take away Doojoon’s inheritance instead, to take away Doojoon’s position as heir, to take away anything except Yoseob—to take away anything except themselves from Doojoon’s life.
 
          The entire week goes by with Doojoon getting an hour of sleep at night, at best, and falling into exhausted naps when he can’t stay awake any longer—when the stress gets to him—when Yoseob’s mother has to ask their maids to start bringing Doojoon migraine pills with his meal upstairs to Yoseob’s room because Doojoon is too tired to go downstairs to eat.
 
          And the worst part?
 
          Doojoon still smiles at Yoseob.
 
          Doojoon still tries to pretend everything is all right—puts up a front so brave that it’s actually stupid, and Yoseob doesn’t think that he wants to even come close to imagining Doojoon like this for years to come. Because he knows that if it comes down to it, Doojoon will do the unimaginable and never see his parents again for Yoseob (or will he?), and that would kill Doojoon. There would be no point in Doojoon doing that in order to keep his promise to Yoseob because there would be no Yoon Doojoon left.
 
          (But will he really? Will Doojoon really never see his parents again just for Yoseob? Will he?
 
          Yoseob isn’t sure anymore)
 
 
 
 
 
Because you were there
 
 
 
 
 
          It’s still the way it was when they attended.
 
          Yoseob drives out to their high school on a day when Doojoon is resting up, sleeping in and trying to dream away reality. All things considered, it really hasn’t been all that long since they’ve graduated (long enough for all of them to have grown up, but not long enough for the school to change very much at all). He sees that the field is exactly the way it was when they attended. The students are on winter break just like students at university are, so Yoseob easily makes his way around the brick wall and onto the turf.
 
          He walks against the white border line, watching his breath fog out visibly in front of him when he breathes out into the frosty air. It’s a blue sky today—a little rare for a winter day. There’s no sun though, but it’s still bright—still warmth coming down from the bright sky. His hands are in his pockets as he looks down at his feet, slowly putting them one in front of the other.
 
          University life is busy so it’s been a while since Yoseob or any of the others have played a game together. High school sports are high school sports and while most of them have gone into their once favorite subjects in high school, none of them have made any attempts, or expressed any real interest, (with the exception of Jonghyun) to pursue the sport they’d so loved while they were teenagers. They all still loved their respective sports (Joon still ran sometimes and Yoseob and the others still loved soccer—missed soccer), but it isn’t their life the way it was back then.
 
          Some things change and some things stay the same.
 
          Yoseob reaches one of the goals and places his hand against the cold, white plastic of the frame, fingers brushing against the netting. A part of him wishes this was his entire life again—wishes that all he knew were grades, soccer, and Yoon Doojoon. He wishes that he could go back to a time when his biggest worry was just trying to get Junhyung and Hyunseung to stop being stupid, to stop Dongwoon from beating Jonghyun up, to get Kikwang laid, to not choke from laughing too hard at Joon’s absurdity.
 
          He wants to go back to a time when Doojoon could tell Yoseob that the older man would never leave him and Yoseob could believe it (could believe it like the naïve boy he was).
 
 
 
 
 
You’re the one that’s always in my heart
 
 
 
 
 
          They fight again.
 
          They fight again in the middle of the night downstairs in the living room, in hushed voices and hissing whispers because Yoseob’s parents are already asleep upstairs. Their faces are inches apart and Yoseob doesn’t even understand what any of this is because this is the most they’ve ever fought (he thinks that, in this past week, they’ve fought more times than they’ve ever fought in all the time they’ve known each other).
          They fight over nothing and everything.
 
          They fight because Yoseob is afraid that he’s going to lose Doojoon. Yoseob is terrified, despite how Doojoon keeps repeating otherwise, that Doojoon isn’t going to choose Yoseob. The younger man knows how selfish that is—knows how unbelievably cruel and horrible he’s being, but he can’t help it because he wants Doojoon to stay. Yoseob is a hypocrite because he’s always wishing that Doojoon would just grow up when Yoseob himself is still that little, sixteen-year-old boy, frightened halfway to death that he’ll have to leave again (like he’s had to leave seventeen times before—seventeen times that he’s always wanted to forget but remembers even to this day).
 
          They fight with Doojoon desperately saying in shouted whispers that his parents will come around—that it’s getting there—that Doojoon knows that even though he might not be anywhere close to convincing them to even trying, he has a feeling that it won’t be impossible and all Yoseob has to do is wait—just wait.
 
          Yoseob whispers rapidly back, mutedly screams, that he’s tired of waiting—that it’s obviously killing Doojoon, obviously taking the hugest toll on Doojoon’s everything and Yoseob doesn’t want to see that, and it’s pointless if Doojoon goes on and on about how he’s doing this because Yoseob makes him happy when it’s obvious that Doojoon isn’t happy right now so why doesn’t Doojoon just go back and he and Yoseob can just be friends—
 
          “You’re being ing ridiculous,” Doojoon says, with an almost shocked
quietness. “I already ing told you like ten-thousand times I’m not leaving. I told you when we were still ing second years that I’m never going to—”
 
          “Except we’re not, hyung,” Yoseob says and it’s finally here. The reason he hates Doojoon these days is finally here and Yoseob is far more terrified than glad (because he’s just that much close to maybe losing Doojoon). The younger man’s throat is tight and his voice isn’t coming out properly. “We’re not second years anymore. Soon, we’re not even going to be university students anymore. You said that when we were ing still in high school—”
 
          “That’s ing right,” Doojoon cuts him off, almost angrily—voice getting louder even though they both know they have to keep it down. “We were in high school when I said that. And you ing know what?” He takes another step closer, mouth so close that Yoseob can taste the older man’s whispers. “Right now we’re in university—someday we’ll be working, someday we’ll be as old as our parents, someday we’ll be ing ninety-years-old and walking with canes, but none of it ing matters because I’ll still be with you.”
 
 
 
 
 
Oh, lonely night
 
 
 
 
 
          Doojoon leaves then—without another word.
 
          The older man just draws away and climbs the stairs without looking back at Yoseob’s expression.
 
 
 
 
 
It’s an endless and stuffy dark night
 
 
 
 
 
          Yoseob thinks that maybe it’s time for him to stop being selfish.
 
          He thinks that maybe, just this once—if he’s done nothing else for Doojoon, he can at least do this. He thinks that maybe, even though he doesn’t really know where to go with it, he’ll try being even half as selfless (try doing at least half as much as Doojoon’s done for him).
 
 
 
 
 
Those are the days when I cried
 
 
 
 
 
          Doori is the one who opens the door.
 
          Her expression is surprised because it’s early in the morning and she probably wasn’t expecting him to turn up at all because of all that’s been happening, but Yoseob is glad that she smiles when she sees him (and that Doojoon at least has one person who’s there to catch him).
 
          She leads him up the stairs, past bedrooms (even though she really doesn’t need to because Yoseob knows this house as if it was his own) and bathrooms, towards Doojoon’s parents’ study. Doojoon’s mother often helps Doojoon’s father with business affairs, managing things here and there for him the way Yoseob’s parents also do together.
 
          “Think you’ll be okay?” Doori asks gently.
 
          Yoseob grins (sadly?). “I don’t know—but thanks.”
 
 
 
 
 
Alone during the dark nights
 
 
 
 
 
          The first thing Yoseob does once he’s inside is bow.
 
          He bows a full ninety degrees, counts to ten slowly before he comes back up and looks both Doojoon’s mother and father (his mother is standing and his father is sitting behind the desk) straight in the eye. Neither expression reveals any of their thoughts—their faces are carefully blank, and carefully calculating and Yoseob is afraid that they might be able to hear how hard his heart is beating within his chest. It’s absolutely pounding against his ribcage and it almost hurts how fiercely it’s drumming.
 
          “He doesn’t know I’m here,” Yoseob begins quietly, forcing himself to start because he knows that if he waits too long, he’ll never be able to speak. He takes a deep breath (because he doesn’t want to stutter—doesn’t want to sound like his thoughts are as scattered as they are). “I know I’m the problem,” he says, pushing himself to meet their eyes again. “I know you don’t have a problem with him being gay—you just don’t want him with me.”
 
          Saying it out loud makes Yoseob smile bitterly—makes him see the irony of that statement. “I understand too,” he goes on. He looks down for a moment, his mouth tasting like acid as the bitter smile grows. “I—he—I never—he could get someone a lot better, someone who actually does stuff back for him. But he wants me for some reason,” Yoseob looks back up and even though Doojoon’s mother and father’s expressions are still carefully crafted into colorlessness, he catches something in their eyes.
 
 
 
 
 
In lieu of the people
 
 
 
 
 
          “He loves you,” Yoseob says, voice tight. “I know it feels like he loves me more than you, but he doesn’t. It’s killing him that he has to choose, and if I could make him choose, I’d make him choose you. I want him to choose you because you’re the reason he’s him,” and Yoseob hates that he doesn’t know how to say that better. He hates that he can’t be eloquent right now because he wants to tell Doojoon’s parents that they’re the reason Yoseob fell in love with Doojoon—there’s always the tug of nature versus nurture, but nurture influences nature regardless and there’s no way Doojoon would ever be this kind without his parents.
 
          His parents are kind and Yoseob knows that because Yoseob’s met them before—before all of this. Just like how Yoseob’s parents are more than familiar with Doojoon, Doojoon’s parents are more than familiar with Yoseob.
 
          Yoseob still remembers how Doojoon’s mother always used to ruffle his hair and stage-whisper to him in front of Doojoon how he should teach Doojoon to have softer hair because the older boy never seems to wash it right. Yoseob still remembers how Doojoon’s father always gave Yoseob soccer magazines on new goalie equipment so Yoseob’s hands don’t get chapped with gloves that aren’t good enough.
 
          Yoseob loves Doojoon’s parents.
 
 
           He has to grip the sides of his shirt to keep his hands from balling into fists (his throat is getting drier and drier and his heart is beating faster and faster). “If it comes down to it,” Yoseob says, and absolutely hates how his voice is starting to break (hates how his eyes are starting to sting), “I’ll break up with him. I don’t want him to kill himself like that for me—I’m not worth it. And it won’t affect what you have with my parents—I’ll tell them that. I—it’s,” he breathes deeply, “just—”
 
          Yoseob doesn’t even know what he wants to say anymore.
 
 
 
 
 
Who would only hurt my callow heart
 
 
 
 
 
          Yoseob kneels slowly, each knee coming down against the carpet carefully before he places his palms down and lowers his head until his nose is inches away from the floor. At the very least, he thinks, they won’t see how wet his eyes are now.
 
 
 
 
 
My heart was having a draught
 
 
 
 
 
          “Get up,” Yoseob hears Doojoon’s father say quietly, “and please leave.”
 
 
 
 
 
But that’s okay
 
 
 
 
 
          When Yoseob returns, he smiles and laughs when Doojoon smiles and laughs—pretends that he just went to visit some of their old classmates that also happen to be back in the neighborhood for the holidays, makes stories up here and there (even though lying to Doojoon, ever since they were kids, has always made Yoseob feel like throwing up).
 
          He maintains his facial expression as best he can when Doojoon says that he’ll eat lunch on the road to his house (he’s rested enough so he says he’s going to try again today and see what happens). Yoseob walks Doojoon out to his car, tipping his head upward and taking the kiss that Doojoon gives him before the older man slips into the driver’s seat.
 
          “Hyung?” Yoseob says, stopping Doojoon from closing the car door.
 
          Doojoon blinks—raises an eyebrow.
 
          Yoseob bites his lip and gives a tiny smile. “I love you, ‘kay?”
 
          The older man rolls his eyes and grins, reaching up and chucking Yoseob’s chin. “,” he says gently—softly.
 
 
 
 
 
You make a way
 
 
 
 
 
          After that, Yoseob doesn’t see or hear from Doojoon (no one does) for an entire week (the week leading up to Christmas Eve).
 
 
 
 
 
The person who will always be guiding me
 
 
 
 
 
To: Yang Yoseob
From: Captain
Sent: 22:34
 
 
Meet me at the field in fifteen min?
 
 
 
 
 
It’s you, you, you
 
 
 
 
 
          It’s snowing.
 
          By the time Yoseob pulls into the parking lot of the school, it’s already started to snow (a light dusting beginning to gather) so he almost gets a heart attack when he’s tackled the moment he locks his car. It’s late at night, it’s a parking lot, he’s alone, it’s dark, it’s snowing, and something literally launches itself at him—arms around his waist and dragging him to the field.
 
          He doesn’t feel sorry that Doojoon ends up crumpled on the grass after Yoseob has kneed him in the stomach.
 
          “There are romantic surprises,” Yoseob says, as the older man tries to gather himself from the pain, “and then there are poorly done surprises that shock the hell out of your significant other.”
 
          Doojoon smiles as he gets to his feet (still wincing a little).
 
 
 
 
 
The only reason for living is you
 
 
 
 
 
          He kisses Yoseob.
 
          Arms wrapped tightly around Yoseob’s waist, body pressed against the younger man’s, warm lips (and warmer tongue) despite the winter night, and from the way Doojoon kisses him—fully and completely—Yoseob knows that something went right, even if he’s not sure what.
 
          (He’s not sure what, but he thinks he might know even though he’s scared—absolutely terrified—to hope for it)
 
          Yoseob pulls away first, searching and scanning Doojoon’s eyes (there’s so much happiness in them that it makes Yoseob nervous). “Did they—” he begins in a whisper.
 
 
 
 
 
Within my desert
 
 
 
 
 
          “Y’know what, Yang Yoseob?” Doojoon says playfully, pretending to think deeply.
 
          Yoseob stares, as Doojoon starts to rock them from side to side—slow dancing to a soundless Christmas song. “What?”
 
          Doojoon takes one arm off of Yoseob’s hips, places it against Yoseob’s face, fingertips against the younger man’s cold-reddened cheeks. The older man touches their foreheads together so that Yoseob can only see Doojoon’s eyes—clear and dark and sparkling. “You’re marrying me next year,” he says, and his breath ghosts over Yoseob’s lips, “whether you like it or not—you’re just going to have to deal with me for eternity, got it?”
 
 
 
 
 
You are my oasis
 
 
 
 
 
          There’s relief.
 
          There’s shock.
 
          There’s gratefulness.
 
          But mostly—there’s just happiness.
 
Because in the end, Yoseob never wanted Doojoon to stop dreaming—never wants to lose Peter Pan because reality is already cold and adult enough, and Yoseob wants to love someone who believes in forever and always whether they are sixteen or sixty. In the end, Yoseob loves that Doojoon is unrealistic and unnecessary because it hurts Yoseob to be hidden (he’s already been hidden seventeen times too many).
 
In the end, Yoseob is glad that Doojoon led the younger man out into the desert.
 
They never would’ve made it to the oasis otherwise.
 
 
 
 
 
You make me fly and smile again
 
 
 
 
 
          Doojoon laughs. “Yah—yah, Yang Yoseob, you’re not crying, right?”
 
          “You’re so stupid,” Yoseob mumbles, burying his face deeper and deeper against Doojoon’s scarf—the younger man clutches himself as close as he can to Doojoon so that there won’t be a chance of the older man seeing his expression. “You’re so ing stupid.”
 
          “Your eyes will ice over if you keep crying like that,” Doojoon says playfully and Yoseob kicks the older man’s shin.
 
 
 
 
 
Coming into my arms and giving happiness silently
 
 
 
 
 
          Doojoon thumbs Yoseob’s wet cheekbones. “Why’re you even so surprised?” Doojoon grins gently. “Yang Yoseob’s charm? It’s like—the foolproof plan to get anything. You could break into South Korea’s security with that.”
 
          Yoseob swipes at his own nose with his sleeve and slaps Doojoon’s hands away from the younger man’s face. “You’re such a mothering ,” Yoseob says and doesn’t even understand what’s coming out of his mouth anymore. All he knows is that Doojoon is laughing again and hugging him and things are going to be all right and it’s ing freezing and dark out here and—
 
 
 
 
 
Just like a rainbow after a shower
 
 
 
 
 
          “I’ll import our cake, ‘kay?” Doojoon says as they walk back to the parking lot, hand-in-hand.
 
          Yoseob squints at him. “From France?”
 
          “Where else?”
 
 
 
 
 
I wanna make a love