The dance workshop is held in an elementary school gym. The instructor stands on a platform, and about twenty other amateur dancers are scattered around the basketball court. Junhong finds an area near the front big enough for both of them to have their own space to move.

They start with warm-ups, and Jongup is surprised by how flexible he still is. It’s not too long before he’s loose and limber, and when the choreography portion of the workshop begins, he picks it up quickly. He moves to the music. He sweats. His heart races. He smiles, and for a little while he just forgets all about ever feeling unhappy.

Junhong watches him more than he dances, but Jongup can tell he’s also very good. When the workshop is over, the instructor approaches them. Junhong is grinning ear to ear. Jongup realises they know each other.

“Jongup, this is Hyungwon. He runs the studio where I teach.”

Hyungwon studies Jongup. He looks him over head to toe, assessing him, and he must like what he sees because he says, “It’s nice to meet you, Jongup. I’d like to talk to you about a job.”

Jongup shakes his head. He's never been interested in teaching dance. He's all about performing. “You don't have to agree now. Just come by the studio next week and I'll explain everything. You can even sit in on a few classes if you like. I promise you it's not the kind of job you think it is.”

Junhong hugs his arm, hangs off of him as he begs as cutely as possible, “Pleeeeeeeeease, Jongup. Please come. I'll be there and we can work together and it'll be so much fun pleasepleaseplease?”

“Ugh, alright, but I'm not committing to anything.”

“Yay!” Junhong jumps and claps, and he looks so much like an overgrown five-year-old that Jongup just wants to pinch his adorable cheeks.

 {~O~}

Hyungwon's studio is huge, much bigger than the one Jongup attended growing up. Instead of one main dance floor, it has several soundproofed classrooms complete with walls of floor to ceiling mirrors and ballet barres. Instead of a single changing room with dirty floors and no storage space, there are four, clean locker rooms. Instead of an old record player hooked up to ancient speakers, each room has a state of the art sound system.

Hyungwon meets him at the front desk, because there is a front desk, with an actual receptionist instead of a grouchy old woman who runs a health food store attached to the studio and happens to also answer the phones. He explains to Jongup that Junhong is in class and tells him to feel free to look around until Junhong's break.

Jongup wanders the hallways of the big building, peeking into classrooms when he can hear music seeping through the cracks around the doors. He's relieved to see the classes are mostly small. If he does end up taking the job, he won’t be surrounded by more than a dozen kids every hour. It’s more like eight or ten students per class, and none of the instructors are alone in the room with the students until he reaches the last one, Junhong’s. Everyone else has at least one demonstrator helping out, but Junhong is demonstrating the moves himself, moves that make him look boneless, like his body is made entirely of rubber as he sinks to the ground in a puddle and bounces right back up, engaging muscles Jongup didn’t know existed.

When the class is over, Junhong bows to his students, and they bow back before scurrying off to a locker room to clean up and change. A few parents are lingering in a little gallery near the back of the room, and Jongup steps aside as they slowly make their way to the door to wait for their kids out in the lobby.

“Hey!” Junhong shouts when he finally notices Jongup hanging around just inside the room. He runs toward Jongup, and for a second Jongup panics, thinking that Junhong is going to take a flying leap at him. Junhong is far too tall and lanky for that kind of behavior, and he must realise this because he drops to his knees and slides across the hardwood and into Jongup’s legs, wrapping his arms around Jongup’s thighs to keep him from falling over on impact. “You’re here,” he says, breathless, and Jongup laughs and nods. “My next class is in twenty minutes. Come with me to get some water before the kids get here.”

Junhong leads Jongup through a door at the far end of the room and into a small lounge area. He gestures for Jongup to have a seat as he pulls a couple of bottles of water from the fridge.

“When you say kids, how young are we talking?” Jongup asks, taking the bottle Junhong offers him and twisting the cap off.

“Oh, they’re not really kids. I mean, they are, but they’re teenagers . I work with age fifteen and up. Some of the moves I teach aren’t safe for a little kid’s spine so I get the older groups.”

“You mean like that puddle thing?”

Junhong’s smile is so pure, like he doesn’t have a worry in the world and truly enjoys each and every moment of life, and Jongup wants. He wants Junhong’s lips on his own and Junhong beneath him in bed (or on top, he doesn’t care which), but more than that he wants that happiness for himself. He wants to experience whatever Junhong has that makes him smile like that, wants to forget whatever he’s experienced himself that stole his own smile away.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah, it was stunning.”

The smile stays, but Junhong's eyes scrunch up as he looks down at the table, proud but embarrassed. “I wasn’t actually teaching them that. Most of them won't ever be able to do anything so advanced. They just don't have the flexibility for it, but at their age it's fun to watch and dream.”

Jongup vaguely remembers what it was like to see some mind blowing move at that age and imagine a time when he’d be able to replicate it. He remembers practicing in front of his dresser mirror when he was supposed to be sleeping or doing his homework. There was some kind of move that involved a twist and a spin and a jump and a drop. It took him ages to get it right, but when he finally did, it was like he couldn’t remember ever not knowing how to do it. He could probably still do it now if he warmed up enough. Muscle memory is an amazing thing.

“Still with me?” Junhong’s hands are huge, warm and soft with long, tapered fingers that wrap around Jongup’s as he attempts to bring Jongup back to the present.

“Yeah.” Jongup blinks. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“I’m going to assume Hyungwon didn’t tell you anything about the job.” Jongup shakes his head. He had been so caught up exploring the studio that he forgot all about the reason he came. “You wouldn’t actually be an instructor. At least not right away. Later on, if that’s something you think you’d be interested in, I’m sure Hyungwon could find a place for you, but for now you’d help me choreograph and demonstrate moves for my classes.”

Oh. That actually doesn’t sound too bad at all. Jongup really enjoys choreographing, and it’s been forever since he’s had an opportunity like this. Although, he’s still a little worried about dealing with the kids, and he voices his concern.

“Well, like I said, all my kids are teens. They’re all pretty serious about dance, all handpicked by Hyungwon and myself. They’re respectful and polite or they aren’t allowed to continue the class. You’ll never have to worry about attitude or lack of focus from them. I think you might even like a few of them.”

Jongup asks a few more questions, mostly about the size of the classes and the schedule, and Junhong answers everything so professionally that Jongup wonders who really runs the studio, Hyungwon or Junhong. By the time Jongup has run out of questions, they can hear Junhong’s students warming up in the other room, laughing and goofing off as they stretch.

“If you’re not busy for the next hour, I’d love for you to sit in on the class. You can dance with us or just sit in the gallery and watch; it’s your choice.”

Jongup agrees, and even though he originally opts to sit and watch, ten minutes into the class he’s already up and moving with them. It's fun. The choreography is challenging but not frustratingly difficult.  The students are talented and dedicated, and Junhong is an excellent teacher. He is patient and has the control to be able to break down the moves in slow motion for anyone who is struggling. By the end of the class, as everyone is bowing to Junhong, Jongup has decided to take the job.

 {~O~}

Jongup rearranges his work schedule to accommodate the class times and rehearsals. Choreographing with Junhong means spending several late nights each week holed up in a classroom at the studio, showing each other moves and deciding together which ones should be included and where. Junhong praises Jongup continuously, gushing over how well they work together and how quickly Jongup is able to learn Junhong's moves and find ways to transition from them into his own.

On Friday of their second week, they finally have a few routines ready to share with Junhong's classes. They take an hour to go over the routines they've come up with, and afterwards they sit around in the lounge for a while, talking as they rehydrate.

“I think we could probably skip out early tonight,” Junhong offers quietly, and Jongup answers with a disappointed hum and a nod. He fiddles with his water bottle, spinning it on the table, avoiding eye contact with Junhong. He doesn't know how to tell Junhong that the studio feels more like home than his parents’ house, that he dreads the nights they aren't choreographing together and going home on the nights they are.

Junhong giggles, and when Jongup looks up, he's leaning back in his chair with his feet propped on the table and his fingers laced behind his head. “When I feel like being really bad, there's this taco stand on the corner by my apartment that makes the best pulled pork tacos. They close early though, like nine or so, so I can only get them on nights I sneak out early.”

“You'll have to take me sometime.”

“You like tacos?” Junhong asks, dropping his feet back to the floor and sitting up straight. Jongup nods again and smiles at the excitement in Junhong's eyes. “Man, these are the best! The lady who runs it makes everything fresh. She even fries the taco shells to order, and she adds lots of… what's that green stuff that's so popular in Thai and Mexican food? You know, the stuff they put in salsa and spring rolls.”

“Cilantro.”

“Yeah. They're loaded with cilantro.”

“You're making me hungry,” Jongup whines.

Junhong grins, wide, a mixture of mischief and glee sparkling in his eyes. He looks at his watch. “If we leave right now we can get there before they close, but we might have to run.”

“What are we waiting for?” Jongup tosses Junhong his bag and throws his own across his shoulder, and they quickly lock up the studio to race to the taco stand.

They're both out of breath when they reach their destination, and Jongup can feel a stitch in his side. Despite running half the way there, they don't make it before nine, but fortunately the taco stand stays open later on Fridays. Junhong orders for them, and they sit across from each other at a picnic table with a mountain of tacos and a pitcher of beer between them.

Jongup moans out loud at the first bite. The crunchy shell and the tender pork that practically melts like butter on his tongue, and then there’s the cilantro Junhong mentioned. The combination is nearly ic, and he’s not embarrassed by his reaction, even when Junhong snorts at him.

“This is the best thing I've ever put in my mouth,” Jongup declares through a mouthful of taco. Junhong beams as he crunches on his own food.

“I told you. Didn't I tell you?” Junhong giggles. He giggles , and Jongup's heart lurches at the bubbly sound. Sitting there at a picnic table in an empty parking lot beside a taco stand that serves the best tacos Jongup has ever tasted, he realises that he's happy.

It's not the kind of happiness you find in a situation, a job or a relationship or a moment. It's the kind of happiness that is just there, all the time, in all the moments and all the situations.

“Thank you,” Jongup says, and he can hear it in his voice, the happiness in his heart leaking into his words.

“Dude, it's just tacos,” Junhong teases. Another small fit of giggles makes his shoulders shake.

“I don't mean the tacos. I mean… if not for you I'd be stuck working double shifts at a soul- grocery store.”

“But you’re still working at that soul- grocery store.”

“Yeah, but I'm not working doubles anymore, and I'm dancing and I'm… I'm creating. I'm smiling and laughing and enjoying my life.” Jongup suddenly feels . He's pinned in place by the look on Junhong's face, a mixture of confusion and pride and something Jongup can't put his finger on.

“I really didn't do anything, Jongup. I just… well, I saw the way your eyes lit up when you told me you used to dance, and Hyungwon had been nagging me to find someone to work with and you were so good at the workshop and I like you… talking to you so I thought it was worth a shot to ask. I didn't think you'd take the job actually.”

“I didn't either,” Jongup admits, staring at the bite of taco he's still holding, “but I wanted to work with you.”

Junhong looks up at him, and he’s panting, short little breaths, like he can only get his lungs to work in fits and starts, and when Jongup finally lifts his eyes, he sees the faint tint of pink on Junhong's cheeks. “Do you really mean that?”

“Well, yeah. You're fun and smart and really good at your job, and I don't just mean the dancing.” Jongup laughs, just a huff of breath through his nose. “Did you know you do this thing with your face when you're really focused where you crunch up your nose and eyebrows and pucker your lips? It's so-”

“Jongup,” Junhong interrupts him, “if you say I'm cute, I will eat the rest of the tacos all by myself.”

“Fine,” Jongup says, though he had actually been about to call Junhong cute. He scrambles for some other way to finish his sentence that won't offend Junhong. “Fine, you're not cute, but that face you pull? It makes me want to kiss you.”

Junhong gasps, his lips parted, the tiny, sharp inhale still barely audible over the street traffic. He gives Jongup a shy little smile before his lower lip between his teeth and dropping his eyes to the table.

“I-I’m sorry, Junhong. Everything was going so well and… and now I’ve made you uncomf-”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Kiss me. Why don’t you kiss me?” Junhong looks up at Jongup through his eyelashes, and it’s weird that the thought that comes to mind is, with how tall Junhong is, Jongup never gets to see him from this angle. “Why haven’t you kissed me, Jongup?”

“I didn’t think…”

“What? You… you didn’t want to, or you didn't think I’d want you to?” Jongup shrugs, unsure what the proper answer is. Junhong shakes his head. There’s still that shy hint of smile on his lips and the tint of pink on his cheeks, and he’s beautiful, so beautiful. His eyes are sparkling and huge, and they just keep getting bigger. It takes Jongup too long to notice that it’s because Junhong is moving forward, closer, incredibly close. Junhong’s eyes drop, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then…

And then they’re kissing, Jongup rising to meet him halfway across the picnic table, accidentally crushing a taco under the heel of his hand and ignoring the mess completely as he brings that same hand up to touch Junhong’s cheek. Everything is soft, Junhong’s fringe that brushes Jongup’s face as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his skin beneath Jongup's fingers, his lips and the pressure of them against Jongup’s. As he slips his tongue into Junhong's mouth, Jongup wonders how he can taste so sweet, how he tastes more like cupcake frosting than beer and cilantro.

When they part, their eyes stay locked on each other. “My apartment is five minutes away. Sleep over tonight?” Junhong asks, and it sounds innocent, like he’s inviting Jongup over to read comic books and watch movies and binge on junk food.

Jongup blinks, looks down at the table to think clearly for a moment, and when he lifts his eyes again and nods, a blinding smile breaks out on Junhong’s face. He tries to tone it down by biting his lip, but he can't help the way his eyes disappear. Jongup knows better than to say it aloud, but Junhong is just… cute. Instead, he kisses Junhong’s nose, wipes away the mess of pork and sour cream he’d left on Junhong’s face with his hand, and says, “Tacos first,” and Junhong giggles and sits back on his side of the table.

They finish eating, their hands finding each other’s across the table at some point, and Jongup is reluctant to let go when all of the food is gone. Junhong sends him shy glances as they clean up and giggles when Jongup catches him looking.

Junhong leads Jongup down the sidewalk by the hand. His apartment is just a block away, a short walk. Jongup does his best to keep his nerves from getting the better of him along the way. He takes deep breaths as Junhong opens the door to the apartment, and then Junhong turns to face him, a hand on Jongup’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay. I won’t be upset if you decide to leave, but I’m not gonna do anything more than kissing tonight. I just… I really like you, and I don’t want to rush anything, so if that’s a problem, I won’t keep you here.”

Jongup nudges Junhong’s chin with his nose, unable to reach any higher without standing on his toes, and presses his lips to Junhong’s collar bone. “That’s fine, Junhong. Perfect. I like you too, you know.”

Junhong sighs, a little shaky, and reaches behind his back to open the door. “Come on in,” he murmurs.

They move straight through the living room, passing a tiny futon, the only furniture in the room aside from a small table that looks like Junhong nailed it together himself out of scrap wood. The bedroom is furnished similarly. There’s no bed frame, only a large mattress on the floor in one corner, covered with crumpled sheets and blankets. A television and ancient gaming system sit on the floor as well, one of the controllers lying beside the mattress with the cord stretched across the carpet. It's just barely long enough to reach so far. An assortment of games and DVDs are lined up along the wall behind the television, and both the laundry hamper and wardrobe have clothes spilling out of them in a pile at the foot of the mattress.

“How do you know what’s clean or dirty?” Jongup asks playfully, pushing the clothes around with his foot.

“Don’t touch those.” Junhong swats at Jongup’s shoulder. “If you move them I won’t be able to tell and I’ll have to wash everything.” Jongup laughs and watches Junhong spread the sheets a bit more neatly across the mattress. He sits on the edge and looks up at Jongup, holding out his hand as an invitation. “Well, are you gonna join me?”

“I kinda like this view,” he answers, using Junhong’s hand to balance as he straddles Junhong’s long legs and lowers himself to Junhong’s lap. “You’re too tall,” Jongup pouts. “You should come down to my level more often.”

“Oh yeah?” Junhong’s voice is breathy and weak as Jongup nuzzles into his neck and nips at the sensitive skin behind his ear. “What’s in it for me? Besides a backache.”

“Maybe,” Jongup kisses each of Junhong’s cheeks, “more,” and his nose and chin, “of this.” He presses his lips to Junhong’s and wraps his arms around Junhong’s neck. Junhong hums happily as Jongup’s tongue traces his bottom lip but pulls back to look up at Jongup.

“I think that might be worth the backache.” He falls back onto the mattress, dragging Jongup down with a squeak. “I’m tired,” Junhong mumbles against Jongup’s neck. “Let’s cuddle.”

Jongup can’t hold back the huff of laughter, and Junhong squirms as Jongup’s breath tickles his ear. “Cuddling it is,” he agrees. Junhong maneuvers them so that they’re laying on their sides with his face tucked into Jongup’s chest. Jongup uses his foot to work a fuzzy blanket over them, and before he can pull it around Junhong’s shoulders, the kid is already snoring softly.

They’re still fully clothed except for shoes, but Junhong is warm; his skin at his waist where his shirt rides up beneath Jongup’s fingers is smooth and just the right balance of squishy and firm, and Jongup thinks this is pretty cosy. He watches Junhong’s expressive face as he dreams for a long time before finally falling asleep himself.

 {~O~}

Jongup slowly drops his shifts at the grocery store. He cuts back from full time to part time. Five shifts a week dwindle to two. Regular customers notice and question him, but he just tells them he’s busy with other things. He doesn’t bother to explain that he’s finally settling into a new job and a new relationship or that the only reason he’s still hanging around is because he’s reluctant to move on completely.

“I heard you’re teaching dance now.” Jongup startles at the soft voice. He hadn't heard the bell ring to announce a customer arriving. Youngjae gives him a tentative smile and asks, “Why are you still working here if you got a better job?”

It takes Jongup longer than it should to react. He stares across the counter at Youngjae with wide eyes and ultimately decides it's best to say nothing. Youngjae looks thinner than the last time Jongup saw him. He can’t tell if it’s better or worse. Youngjae was pretty thin even when they were together, but it's not a bad look, just... different.

Youngjae moves toward the counter slowly, approaching Jongup as one would a wild animal, cautiously. Jongup takes a step back when Youngjae is a few feet away, and Youngjae freezes. He doesn’t come any closer, but he extends his hand to place an envelope on the counter.

“I just…” he bites his lip, and his eyebrows scrunch together as he tries to gather the proper words. “It’s some things I wanted you to know. I didn’t get a chance to say them the night you left, and I know it’s been a long time-”

“Eight months,” Jongup mumbles.

“Right. Eight months, I know. My point is… Well, read the letter. I’m not expecting anything from you. I just need you to know.”

“Know what?”

“Please, Jongup. I don’t know what I did to make you so… to make you act this way, but I’m too tired to fight you right now. Read the letter, and if you want to talk about anything, you know my number.”

Jongup makes no move to take the letter, but it doesn’t matter. Youngjae has already placed it on the counter. It’s out of his hands now.

Youngjae sighs, and his shoulders slump slightly as he gives a tired wave and leaves the store. Jongup watches him go, watches him get in his car and drive away before he finally takes the letter from the counter and carefully folds it. He thinks about throwing it out; the trash is right next to him behind the counter, but this might be the last piece of Youngjae he’ll ever have.

Though Jongup isn’t ready to read it just yet, he feels the letter might just hold the key to closure between them. He tucks it into his wallet, saving it until the time is right.

 {~O~}

“Jongup?” Junhong calls as he bursts through his apartment door. “You home?”

“In here,” he answers from the bedroom.

Home. Jongup is home. It’s still strange to hear it, but it’s true. After months of Jongup’s belongings slowly migrating to Junhong’s apartment, Junhong finally officially asked him to move in. It had only taken one trip in his father’s station wagon to transfer all of his remaining clothes and books from his childhood bedroom to Junhong’s - their - apartment.

He looks up from the laundry he’s folding when Junhong enters the room with a wide grin splitting his face in half. “What?”

“I’m just so happy to see you,” he says, and he bends down to kiss Jongup.

Jongup laughs. “It’s only been two hours, babe. Did you really miss me that much?”

“Yes.” Junhong’s expression turns serious. “I always miss you when we’re apart, even if it’s only a few minutes.”

If it weren’t Junhong, Jongup would probably gag at the sugary words, but Junhong says them with such sincerity that Jongup feels his heart flutter instead. He smiles and abandons the laundry in favor of pulling Junhong down on the bed with him.

Junhong follows willingly, snuggling into Jongup’s warm body and squirming a bit as Jongup’s hand trails down his side. “I have good news. One of our classes qualified for regionals today.”

“That’s amazing.” Jongup draws his fingers back up Junhong’s body, stopping at his jaw and pulling him closer to kiss his forehead. Jongup enjoys the way Junhong closes his eyes and sighs. “We should celebrate.”

“With pizza?”

“If that’s how you want to celebrate. I was thinking something more along the lines of…” Jongup trails off as he nips and nibbles at whatever parts of Junhong’s skin are available to him.

“Ah… Oh-okay. Your idea first, then pizza.”

 {~O~}

“That handsome gentleman with the suits has been asking about you,” Diane’s husky, smoker’s voice carries from the floor on the other side of the counter where she’s digging through the safe in search of Jongup’s last paycheck.

“Just the check please, Diane. I don’t need the gossip.”

“Why’re you quittin’ anyway?” Jongup rolls his eyes. They’ve discussed this, at length. Diane wouldn’t shut up until she had wheedled every bit of information out of Jongup that he would allow.

“Hyungwon offered me a teaching position. I took it. End of story.”

It isn’t really ‘end of story’ actually. Hyungwon had made a huge deal of Jongup’s promotion from demonstrator to instructor. He’d ended all of Junhong’s classes fifteen minutes early to explain that the students were being divided, and half of them would now be in Jongup’s classes instead.

Junhong had been so excited for Jongup that he’d forgotten their ‘no kissing in front of students’ rule and thrown himself at Jongup. About half of the kids had cringed while the other half cooed, and Jongup had wanted to round up all the ones who hadn’t gone all mushy and herd them to his new classroom right away. Mushiness wouldn’t do with the choreography he had planned for his class.

Diane emerges from behind the counter with a triumphant, “Aha!” holding an envelope addressed to Jongup with the company logo in the corner. Jongup takes it and opens his wallet to tuck it away safely, and another envelope slides out and hits the floor. It’s small and worn, still sealed, and it takes Jongup a moment to remember exactly what it is: Youngjae’s letter.

“Thanks, Diane,” Jongup mumbles as he turns to leave, still holding his wallet in one hand and the letter in the other. He stumbles out the door and down the sidewalk and right up to the counter of the bakery next door.

“Jongup?” Himchan hurries around the counter and helps him to a chair at one of the handful of tables out front. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Jongup holds the letter out to Himchan. “It’s from Youngjae.”

“It hasn’t been opened. Did you just get it?”

“No,” Jongup shakes his head, “months ago.”

Himchan flips the letter over and starts to slide his thumb under the flap. “Do you mind?” Jongup shrugs a shoulder at him, still a little dazed. Himchan opens the letter and unfolds it. He flattens it on the table in front of Jongup, but Jongup looks away.

“I… I’m not sure I’m ready, Chan. You read it for me.”

“Jongup, I can’t do that. You have to do it yourself, but I’ll sit here with you.” Jongup combs his hair out of his face with his fingers and groans. Himchan is right. He has to do this himself. He’s ready for that closure now. “I’m right here if you need me, okay?”

“‘Kay,” he says in a small voice. His hands shake as he lifts the paper and reads.

Dear Jongup,

It’s probably unfair of me to say this, to lead with this, but I miss you. I miss your messy hair fanned out on the pillow when I come home from work late at night. I miss your quiet laughter when you watch television, trying not to disturb me while I’m working from home. I miss us passing in the bathroom as I get out of the shower and you get in when we both have early mornings at work.

I… didn’t realise how much of our lives revolved around my work until I wrote that. I’m so sorry. I neglected you, and you deserve so much better. I thought I could show you my love by providing for you financially, by taking care of you, but I realise now that no relationship should work that way. You hinted multiple times that you were feeling ignored. I should have listened. I should have… I should have been better for you.

I hope my actions didn’t cause any long-term damage to you. It must have been painful feeling like you weren’t worthy of my time and attention, but let me be clear: you are worthy. You are worthy of love and affection and attention. I should have provided that for you, and that failure is mine, not yours.

I should also clarify that when I say I miss you, I mean I miss YOU. I don’t just miss coming home to someone, having someone around, all the things that come with being in a relationship. I miss your smile and your laugh, both of which have been absent from my life for much longer than we’ve been apart. I miss your warmth and kindness. I miss your scent and your touch, and no other person will be able to fill that void.

I’m sorry, Jongup. I’m sorry that I wasn’t better to you, that I didn’t realise what I had before it was gone. I’m sorry that I took you and your presence in my life for granted. I’m sorry that I can’t let go, that I can’t move on, and I hope that things are different for you. I hope that you can find someone who makes you happy, someone who is everything for you in all the ways I couldn’t be.

I can’t say goodbye. I don’t want to. I never wanted us to end, but I’m not going to hold you back any longer. If you’re happier without me, well, that’s disappointing, but I can live with it if it means you’re happy. And if you’re not… no. If you're not happy then you find something that makes you happy and do it, get it, obtain it in whatever way possible. Find your joy, Jongup. Find it and never let it go.

Love,

Youngjae

Honestly, it’s not what Jongup had expected. He thought Youngjae would be begging for Jongup to take him back or venting his anger over the breakup, but this is… supportive. This is who Youngjae used to be, way back when they first met, when Jongup was still just a sophomore in college and didn’t really have a clue about love or relationships. This is the guy who drove half an hour every night to stand and watch Jongup work just because he wanted them to spend time together. It’s the man he fell for the first time they kissed because he held Jongup’s face in gentle hands and slowly drew him closer until their lips just barely touched for the briefest of moments only to back away and look at Jongup with eyes that shone with adoration and promise.

For a fraction of a second Jongup thinks that if Youngjae had changed sooner, maybe he wouldn't have left, that if Youngjae is back to the way he was before things went to , maybe they can get back together, but then he imagines Junhong with his lips puckered and his nose and eyebrows scrunched together in the middle of his face, he sees him with his eyes closed and mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure, he envisions the intense, concentrated look on his face when he's trying to perfect a difficult move, and Jongup knows. He knows he's in love with Junhong.

He’s crying. Jongup only knows he’s crying because Himchan is moving toward him, leaning down to hug him, but Jongup doesn’t need Himchan like he thought he would. He swipes the tears away with the back of his hand.

“I have to go.” Jongup lurches forward out of his chair and right into Himchan's arms.

“Wait,” Himchan insists, catching Jongup and helping him steady himself. “Go where?”

“Home. I need to go home. I need to tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“That I love him.” He chokes on the words as he gasps for air.

“Who? Youngjae?”

“What? No.” Jongup shakes his head frantically. “No, Junhong. I love Junhong.”

Himchan smiles. “Well then what are you waiting for, Uppie? Go get him.”

Jongup laughs through another burst of tears and hugs Himchan. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, buddy. Now go.”

 {~O~}

Jongup rushes home. He runs the last two blocks from the bus stop and tumbles through the door into the empty apartment before realising Junhong is still at work for another hour. He laughs at himself. He feels slightly hysterical as he stands in the middle of the living room and cackles. Calming himself, he looks around the apartment for something to do while he waits for Junhong to return.

Jongup makes the bed. He goes to the basement to start a load of laundry. He cleans the bathroom and alphabetizes their DVDs, and he's washing dishes when he finally hears the door open.

“Hey, babe, I'm - oof!” Jongup leaps at Junhong and knocks him backward into the door. “Home,” Junhong groans. “I'm home.” He wraps his arms around Jongup's waist and carries him to the living room, sitting on the couch with Jongup in his lap.

“Not that I'm not happy to see you too, but is something going on?”

Now that Junhong is here in front of him, Jongup isn't sure what he wants to say. He feels like blurting out “I love you” won't properly express his feelings, but explaining how he came to the realisation would probably be too confusing. Junhong seems to sense Jongup's inner battle and asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah everything's good… great actually. Fantastic. I'm…” Jongup laughs, mostly at himself but also at the perplexed expression on Junhong's face. “I read a letter from my ex today, and before you think it’s anything bad, it’s not. It’s actually exactly what I needed to hear because it opened my eyes, and now I have something I need to tell you.”

Junhong’s eyebrows run the full range from up to down and in between, finally settling on raised in expectation. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, what is it?”

“Junhong, I’ve been through a lot… some of it before we met and some of it with you. Some people helped me along the way. You know Himchan,” Junhong nods, but it’s obvious he’s losing his patience with Jongup’s explanation, wanting him to get to the point, “and you know how instrumental he was in helping me get over Youngjae. But the truth is, the person who’s helped me the most is you.”

Junhong opens his mouth to speak, but Jongup doesn’t give him a chance. “It was you who were so kind to me when no one had even noticed me for so long. It was you who made me realise just how unhappy I was with Youngjae and made me feel like I deserved better. It was you who gave me the opportunity to dance again and showed me that there are other options than just performing. Junhong, it was you who proved to me that my life is more than a meaningless job.

“Youngjae told me to find my joy, but the thing is, I’ve already found it. You’re my joy. It’s you. It’s you who I love. I love you, Junhong.”

Jongup waits. He waits for Junhong’s response, for his eyes and mouth to stop doing that twitchy thing they do when he can’t decide what to say. He waits, and it feels like every second that ticks by lasts an hour. By the time Junhong finally speaks, Jongup thinks he might as well have been waiting a week to hear the words.

“Oh, Jongup, sweetie… I love you too, but-”

“No.” Jongup’s heart sinks. “Please don’t say but . I don’t wanna hear but . But never means anything good so please… Don’t say it.”

“No, no. Jongup, that’s not what I meant at all. I love you, babe. I love you. Don’t worry. I love you I love you I love you. Do you understand? Don’t panic, please.”

“Then why the but?”

Junhong giggles and pushes Jongup’s fringe behind his ears. “Because you’ve got the whole thing wrong. Yes, I placed all those things in front of you, but you… you’re the one who reached out and took the things that made you happy. You came to the workshop. You took the job. You took a chance on me. You took a chance on yourself. I’m not your joy, Jongup; you are.”

Jongup wants to argue, to tell Junhong that it’s not true because none of the opportunities would have been available to him if not for Junhong, but as he tries to find the words to do so, he feels himself slowly giving in. Junhong is right. Jongup finally had the guts to do some things for himself, and the result is happiness, the kind of happiness that Junhong has always had.

“Thank you, Junhong,” Jongup says with as much sincerity as he can possibly muster without bringing himself to tears.

“Stop thanking me and let’s celebrate you finally falling in love with me,” he teases. “It took you long enough. I’ve been waiting almost a year for you to come to this conclusion.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Don’t be sorry, love. It doesn’t matter how long it took to get here. The wait was worth it.”

 {~O~}

It's years later, six of them… Jongup has been with Junhong for over six years, and not once has his love ever wavered. If anything, it’s only grown. He never feels unloved or unwanted or lonely.

They celebrate (because Junhong loves to celebrate anything and everything) their anniversary on the day Jongup finally told Junhong he loves him. Jongup takes Junhong out for tacos, though they’re nowhere near as good as the ones they had on their first date.

Afterwards, they’re walking down the street with no particular direction, just walking. Their bellies are as full as their hearts, and their hands are tangled together, swinging between them.

Jongup hears a familiar voice, one he hasn’t heard since the night Youngjae came to visit him at the grocery store. He turns his head in search of the voice, and there he is.

He seems shorter than Jongup remembers, but that’s probably because he’s been with Junhong so long. Everyone seems short by comparison. Youngjae is standing on a street corner, waiting for the light to change. He’s holding hands with a man that Jongup can only describe as cute, who throws his head back as he laughs at something Youngjae has said and exposes adorable bunny teeth, not unlike Jongup’s own.

Jongup feels Junhong’s fingers squeeze around his own, and he turns back to Junhong with a weightless feeling. “What is it, babe?” Junhong asks.

It’s nothing that would be important to Junhong, but ever since he read Youngjae’s letter, Jongup has worried about him, whether he was ever able to move on and find someone who makes him happy. Jongup glances back at the street corner once more. He sees Youngjae’s smile and hears his laugh, and he finally knows that Youngjae is okay.

“Nothing,” Jongup says, shaking his head, unable to wipe the grin off of his face. “It’s nothing. I love you.”

Junhong returns the grin and bumps his elbow against Jongup’s shoulder. “Love you too.” When Junhong says the words, they’re not meaningless, not just something two people who have been together for ages say to each other. They make Jongup’s heart skip in a very satisfying way. Maybe love isn’t the same thing as joy, but Jongup has both. He has Junhong too, and that’s all Jongup could ever ask for in this world.