The thing he likes most about having so much time to himself was filling that time up with things to do. Unlike most of his life, which passed mostly in a blur, he wakes up promptly at 5am, does a few stretches and a few rehabilitative exercises for the damaged nerves in his hands with a sense of anticipation for the rest of the day. And before Hongbin starts to stir, he starts to prepare the ingredients for bread, measuring with care and kneading by hand. It’s something he’s chosen to do, rather than something expected of him. If it’s a good day, he adds nuts into the dough – maybe even tries making more challenging breads like sourdough or ciabatta. But if he hasn’t managed to get any good sleep, no one blames him for making plain old bread (not even himself). The ritual is almost meditative; he relishes the sour in his muscles as he pounds the dough on the counter and enjoys the thought put into experimenting with his recipes every morning. As the bread gets close to finished, Hongbin usually wakes up and starts making a cup of coffee with his fancy coffee machine. Often, when Sanghyuk gets flour on his nose or brown sugar on his apron, Hongbin sleepily wipes it clean.

They go out for a run at 6am, just in time to watch the sun rise across Seoul. Sanghyuk likes the way the city slowly balloons from silent and hopeful to bustling and avaricious as the sun lights up everything. Hongbin, the complete opposite, dislikes it – if he had a choice, he would have chosen to grow up in small towns or the countryside. But Hongbin watches the sunrise with him anyway, liking it best when the sun shines brightly. He says the sun is the fairest thing in the world. It rises no matter where you are and casts a shadow no matter who you are. It sees everything and observes all deeds of the world.

Sanghyuk puts the dough in the oven as soon as they get home and they make toast once it’s done. Hongbin leaves for work around 9am, and ever since the trial, Sanghyuk doesn’t really want to tag along anymore. He pretends he’s fine with it (he has homework to do anyway) but he secretly hates that people have taken his anonymity. It was his choice, of course, but the trade-off was unfair.

The rest of the day is spent according to Sanghyuk’s liking. He spends too much time buried in his math homework but still remembers to clean the house and take naps. It’s the most unfamiliar thing in the world, having time to himself, but it’s the thing he’s enjoyed the most.

Another recipe please? Sanghyuk texts Minhyun later that afternoon, making it the third time in two weeks. I’m in the mood for something challenging. To impress Hongbin.

Gnocchi. No idea how to make it but I like it. Let me know if you find a good recipe and maybe I’ll try and make it after my exams. The notification comes just as he’s about to re-use a dish from one of the dusty cookbooks in the kitchen. Sorry for the late reply, btw, I was in a Psych class.

Sanghyuk does manage to find a recipe online and tweaks it carefully to their tastes – a little more pepper in Hongbin’s, a little more chilli in his. A light sponge cake for dessert.

He sends a photo to Minhyun and gets some advice to bring out some candles. He follows suit, though he’s not quite sure what exactly they are for. It feels a little silly and definitely too serious for a regular dinner, but he relishes in the fact that the candles hadn’t triggered any bad memory whatsoever for him, quite unlike the first, few, dark days. It also doesn’t really matter – he’s free, he can set up candles if he wants to. He had liked the smell of scented candles in the orphanage before… before… Sanghyuk shakes his head to pull himself out of the memory.

But Hongbin had looked at them a little strangely, and Sanghyuk’s heart speeds up for a second. But then… the strange stare must have been an imagination, because it’s suddenly gone like it was never there. Hongbin just smiles radiantly, patting him on his back, going to wash up.

Happiness is a weird thing, Sanghyuk thinks to himself. When the corners of his mouth move upwards unconsciously, he wants so badly to tame them down. It scares him sometimes, especially since it sneaks up on him unconsciously. Happiness feels only like panic and wanting to run away… until Sanghyuk remembers to look at it closely.

Happiness is trying something new, no matter how small, and having it turn out unexpectedly great. Happiness is getting a text from Taekwoon hyung out of the blue, asking him if he’s eaten. Happiness is how much he cares about Hongbin and how badly he also wants Hongbin to be happy. It’s like the whole world melts away, when that happens. Like nothing could possibly be more important. He’ll force a smile on his face for as long as Hongbin wants him to.

They both fall in love with dinner and dessert. Sanghyuk prints out the gnocchi recipe, folds them neatly, and tucks them into an ever-thickening file placed next to the cookbooks in the kitchen.

Then he wakes up the next morning to a text from Minhyun.

So, how was the date?

Sanghyuk frowns, blearily typing back, What date?, rolling onto his front to laze for a little bit more.

Minhyun has been pulling all-nighters for the past few weeks studying for his finals, so the text comes soon after. Your date with Hongbin? Then, The candles really helped set the mood, right?

Sanghyuk’s face goes numb and he suddenly can’t breathe. His phone clatters onto the bed-side table.

***

All but a few nurses are glad to see Jaehwan go. The ones that are actually fond of him (including the kind nurse who filled out his intake form on the very first day) give him gifts and tells him to take better care of himself. He gives them all hugs and promises to do that and, for once, thinks he might mean it. Taecyeon makes a 2-hour trip from Gangnam with his girlfriend, who’s visiting from America. She looks Korean but can’t speak a of it, though she gives Jaehwan a tight hug and pats him on the back as he packs the last of his things.

You can hardly see it anymore when Taecyeon walks – the limp. He only has rehab once a month now, instead of twice a day. Jaehwan’s psychiatrist tells him that he could one day be like that as well, but Jaehwan isn’t quite sure that’s what he wants. He likes being unique, and perhaps more than that, he feels like he cannot let go of the teenage version of himself he had so stupidly subjected to bad decisions. Wherever he goes now, he wants to carry that version of himself – not out of spite, or childishness, but to make reparations.

At the hospital, his wandering into the paediatric wing had acquainted him with a few younger patients and, after a while, he becomes the most requested playmate amongst the entire ward. His therapist incidentally catches him goofing around with them during lunchtime, trying to get them to finish the vegetables on their plates, and immediately goes to convince the paediatric doctors to let Jaehwan come by more often. In therapy, Jaehwan is tasked to write a letter to his younger self. He usually skips the work, feeling too old to be writing things down in a jotter book, but all the nurses on his floor (very unfairly) withheld after-dinner ice cream until he has it done.

The letter is short. He writes way longer notes to the younger patients.

He’s asked in therapy why he cannot love himself the same way he loves the other children in the hospital – he’s somebody’s kid too.

Jaehwan, much later on, when the words had finally sunk in, very very embarrassingly cries alone in his room for the first time in years.

Since the breakthrough, however, he is no longer viciously angry at himself nor at the world. Even on days where it seems like every card is stacked against him, he still tries to treat himself well.

More people than expected came to see his discharge. Taecyeon, the nurses, all the kids in the hospital, and Minki. He feels truly loved for the first time in a long time and he almost wonders whether he can continue on this straighter path without being in such a safe, friendly environment. But then, lugging out his duffel bag, flowers, balloons, and hand-made cards, Wonshik is standing at the parking lot at the hospital, opening the trunk like it’s no big deal.

“Congratulations,” Wonshik chuckles, handing him a cupcake.

Jaehwan eats it on the car ride to Wonshik’s house, feeling like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.