Joshua Hong was apparently a really bad boyfriend. He didn’t know why, or even if it was true, but considering the many, many failed dates he’s had, he was fully convinced that he’s doing something wrong. He just wished he knew what. He would have asked his previous dates, but it would be quite possibly the most awkward question he could ask a guy after being rejected or broken up with, and he would definitely come off as desperate. He was not that desperate... yet.

Maybe it was because he was too boring. He was a generally quiet and soft-spoken guy, yes, but there was more to him than just that. He liked anime. He played the guitar. He used to be in his church choir and had performed at some of their services. He loved eating pizza and chocolate--just not together. He didn’t want to change himself for others, but no one could see past his unassuming, passive exterior and it was frustrating. It didn’t help that most women saw him as the gentlemanly prince they’d dreamed of when they were kids. He hated having to turn them down time after time simply because he wasn’t interested in women when every man he was interested in turned him down because he was too much like the prince girls dreamed of: polite and chivalrous and almost nothing else.

Despite Joshua’s meek attitude and terrible romantic life, he did, in fact, protest his grandfather’s decision to put him in an arranged marriage with Woozi, a famous music producer who also happened to be the oldest grandson of an almost retiring business chair of some bigwig South Korean empire of some sort but most importantly, happened to be gay. His grandfather had said something about the only way Woozi being allowed to keep his job and prevent becoming the family heir was to get an arranged marriage. Coincidentally, Joshua’s grandfather was the CEO of a rather well-known US company, and proposed a business merge, and offered up Joshua as a sacrificial lamb. So now here he was, telling Joshua that he was going to get married to somebody whose real name he doesn’t even know.

He argued with his grandfather for hours, voice rising above the soft tones he’s known for and becoming more and more agitated by the minute. His grandfather, however, was firm in his decision. He wanted to retire, but the company was on fragile ground, and he needed some financial stability and strong leader in place before he could step down. No one in the family was in the business industry and no one working for the company was good enough to his grandfather, so the business merge was the next best thing.

As much as Joshua wants to not back down and fight this injustice, he could understand why his grandfather was forcing this on him. His grandfather’s health had been declining the last few years, and while he refused to retire, Joshua knew he wouldn’t be able to keep working for long. If Joshua refused, his grandfather would probably work himself to an early death, and that was the last thing he wanted. There was also something strange about the request as a whole. His grandfather would never have even considered the arranged marriage if it was just to seal the business merge. There had to be something about Woozi to make his grandfather agree. His grandfather wouldn’t ask him to do this if he didn’t think Woozi needed his help.

In the end, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get out of the marriage, and one random weekend towards the end of winter, when it’s just starting to warm up, but everything is mushy and soggy and all-around not wedding weather, Joshua marries Woozi, whose real name is Lee Jihoon, in the most unromantic ceremony known to man. There’s no hint of affection in the vows, in the audience’s faces, or in Jihoon’s face. Hell, they don’t even kiss: it’s just an awkward and impersonal handshake, and then Joshua’s last name magically changes to Hong-Lee. It’s weird, it sounds clunky, and Joshua hates it.

So Joshua Hong, the hopeless romantic and hopelessly single dream prince, becomes Hong-Lee Joshua, husband of fellow Korean and music producer Lee Jihoon, aka Woozi, one of the greatest producers in L.A. and one of the most mysterious ones as well.

When he moves in with his new husband, Joshua kind of expects Woozi to live in some fancy, secluded mansion in Beverly Hills, equipped with everything he would need to live on his own for months, almost like a post-apocalyptic bunker. Surprisingly, Joshua finds himself outside a nice condo building in a nice neighborhood. He sees lots of still-bundled up kids running around in the nearby park (surprising given that nowadays most kids are glued to their cell phones) and couples walking their dogs, and it’s such a picture perfect scene of peace and domesticity that Joshua already feels like he’s gonna die.

Woozi’s condo is on the third floor, and Joshua has to cart all of his stuff up six flights of stairs because he hadn’t realized that the building had no elevator (What residence building has no elevator?). He knocks tentatively on the door after obsessively checking and double checking that he has the right address, and waits for his husband (it’s still strange as to say) to open the door.

When he does, Joshua has to tilt his head downward quickly before Woozi notices that he forgot how short his new husband is, because Joshua had quickly noticed at the wedding that despite his cute looks, Woozi wasn’t one to be belittled due to his physical adorableness.

“Joshusa-sshi,” Woozi greets. Joshua flinches slightly at the honorific. He’s forgotten that Woozi was born and raised in Korea, where honorifics are much more important to get correctly, and that a level of formality is applied to everyone older than you, even if that person’s your husband and—theoretically—you should be close enough to said husband to drop said honorifics.

In the end, though, giving a decent response to Woozi is a social norm, so Joshua stammers out an “Eh- uh, hello, Woozi-sshi.” Not exactly the best greeting, but this was a special case. He clears his throat. “Please, just call me Joshua. I’m... I’m not used to honorifics.”

The man in front of him nods in acknowledgement before saying, “then please, call me Jihoon. It’s weird being called by my producer name when I’m not doing work,” as he opens the door wider to let Joshua and his stupid--and useless--handcart full of boxes in.

“Sorry,” he apologizes quietly, nodding slightly at him before he takes in his new surroundings.

It’s a nice house. Ahead of him, the hallway opens up to reveal a spacious living room and dining room, and probably the kitchen to the left at the mouth of the hallway. To his right are two doors on adjacent walls, one open to reveal a laundry room, the other presumably a bedroom: the left seems to be an almost an exact mirror of the right, except the laundry room is a bathroom. It’s not quite decorated, somewhere in between a home decor ad and a warm home: just a touch of personality, but not enough to reflect the overwhelming domesticity Joshua saw outside.

“You’re going to be sleeping with me,” Jihoon says bluntly, as if it wasn’t the most horrifying sentence Joshua had to hear to date. “One of the bedrooms is my studio, and the other is for live recordings. I have real instruments in there in case I don’t want to use the synthesized instruments. I also have a futon in there because I work with my friends and they come over here to record and then crash here because they’re too lazy to go home.”

“Oh, okay,” is all Joshua can say. He doesn’t know what else he can say. The idea of sleeping next to his husband is... daunting, to say the least. But it’d also be too much hassle to take the futon and routinely move in and out whenever Jihoon’s friends come over (which seems like it happens often) so he decides to just deal with sharing the bed. With how nice the condo itself is, he must have a big enough bed so he wouldn’t have to worry.

Jihoon points at the bedroom doors. “The bedroom on your left is my studio. If I’m in there, I usually don’t want to be bothered.” Joshua makes a quick mental note of that. The last thing he needs is to piss off the person he’s staying with. “The bedroom on your right is the live recording room.” He leads Joshua and his stupid handcart deeper into the apartment. The back of the apartment is nearly all windows, revealing a screened porch holding a table, some chairs, and an outdoor couch. It’s unbearably well put together, something Joshua really isn’t (though he acts the part) and he’s suddenly unsure of how he and Jihoon are going to fit together.

Just to the right of the windows is another door, which Jihoon opens. “Here’s my bedroom,” He stops himself, snorting (Joshua can’t tell if it’s a derisive snort or an amused snort, and it’s driving him crazy for some reason) before amending himself, “I guess it’s our bedroom now. I cleared out half of the closet, so you can put your stuff there.”

The bedroom is large. Despite the California King size bed, there’s still enough room for a chaise lounge by the back windows, a dresser, and a mounted flat screen TV to fit comfortably within its confines. On the right wall is an open door that reveals a little foyer and then what is presumably the master bathroom. When Joshua goes to check, however, he realizes that the foyer is actually two fairly spacious closets. The one on the left is open and empty, so he quickly unpacks his handcart, trying his best to get all his clothes on the racks and shelves as fast as possible. Jihoon has already disappeared, and Joshua still feels out of place in his new home. Once he’s done, though, he wanders throughout the condo to realize that Jihoon was nowhere to be found, and his studio door, previously ajar, was closed.

Jihoon must have gone straight back into the studio once his duties were done, Joshua thinks miserably. He really should stop expecting more out of his new arrangement. Jihoon clearly didn’t want anything to do with him.

Sighing, Joshua gets his briefcase and sits at the formal glass dining table, beginning to grade papers.

Several hours pass in stifling silence before Joshua finishes grading. It had been more arduous a task than usual, probably due to all the stress of his personal life, and when he’s done he doesn’t know what to do. It still feels like Joshua was in someone else’s home and not his own, and he’s afraid to touch anything in fear of doing something wrong.

He sighs before tilting his head back and rubbing at his eyes tiredly. He has to get over this stilted, awkward feeling soon, because now there’s nothing he can do to change it. He had given up a long time ago.

After a lonely dinner, Joshua retires to an empty bed, the studio door still resolutely closed shut.

He wakes up to his phone’s blaringly loud alarm from his bedside table, and Joshua nearly rolls out of bed in his haste to turn it off. Beside him, he hears a loud groan and a “For ’s sake, make it go away,” that actually startles Joshua, making him yelp in surprise. When had Jihoon gone to bed?

He shakes his head quickly, forcing himself to wake up. He has to get over himself. Sliding out of bed quietly, he pulls the covers back up for Jihoon, who then pulls them over his head eagerly, and goes to take a long, contemplative shower and get ready for work.

After eating a quick breakfast and making sure to gather everything he needs for work, Joshua leaves the condo without a word to his husband.

Joshua is sitting at his desk when there’s a knock on the door. When he looks up, he smiles when he recognizes the figure at the door of the classroom. “Jeonghan,” he greets.

“Hello, Joshua,” the lithe biology teacher replies. “How was your weekend?”

He struggles not to wince. How can he explain what was going on? He’s close with Jeonghan, and their friendship goes beyond that of a work relationship, but he isn’t sure how he would react to Joshua’s new relationship status. When he was filling out the paperwork, he had asked for confidentiality and to keep his former last name (he couldn’t exactly call it his maiden name, now could he) to keep Jihoon’s impact on his life minimum and to prevent all the intrusive questions the faculty and students would ask. “It was okay,” he lies.

If Jeonghan caught the lie (which he probably did) he doesn’t call him out on it yet. “Mine was nice,” he says. “I went to a club--”

“Say no more,” Joshua stops him. “I don’t need to know.”

“Damn,” Jeonghan snaps his fingers playfully before coming closer, leaning on one of the student’s desks. “I was hoping to regale you with all the glorious details.”

“I think you need more friends you can tell this to,” Joshua says dryly, still sorting out the papers by class.

“Who can I tell? Wonwoo? He would blank stare me to death before I could even open my mouth,” The biology teacher pouts in an attempt to be cute.

Joshua snorts. “For the record, Wonwoo isn’t that bad. You’re just afraid of people who can’t express their emotions well. Secondly, I was actually thinking about Junhui.”

Jeonghan chokes violently, stopping only to let out a few amused wheezes. “No thanks. I’d rather give my students a detailed ed lesson than tell Junhui of all people. He would probably have enough weird stories to beat me, and it wouldn’t even be that long ago that they happened!”

He couldn’t help but sigh. “Yes, because that’s what’s wrong with this whole thing.” He gestures wildly, trying to describe the absurdity of the entire situation, when Jeonghan gasps and grabs his hand. His left hand.

. Joshua forgot to take off the cold metal ring on his ring finger.

“What is this?” Jeonghan nearly crows, inspecting the ring. “Is this a wedding band I see? What did you really do this weekend?”

He sighs. He doesn’t really want to explain it. Not right now, when class is about to start and students are going to come in and see the ring and ask questions he really doesn’t want to answer right now. “Jeonghan...” he begins, only for Jeonghan to cut him off.

“Yeah, not the right place, right? Lunch work for you?” Jeonghan says mercifully, clearly having picked up on Joshua’s reluctance to talk about it at this moment.

“Yeah,” he replies, working to pull the ring off his finger. Once it’s off, he tucks it in his wallet before putting it back into his pocket. “Later.”

The biology teacher pats his shoulder comfortingly before slipping out of the classroom as the bell rings.

Joshua shakes all thoughts of Jihoon out of his head and prepares himself for teaching his classes as the students begin to pour into the classroom, taking their seats while waiting for the second bell to ring.

“Alright, take out your books, and let’s begin,” He says as soon as the second bell stops ringing.

The moment the lunch bell rings, Jeonghan’s at Joshua’s door, face composed though his eyes are sparkling with excitement, and two lunch bags in his hands.

“Mr. Yoon, are you here to see Mr. Hong?” One of the female students asks, eyes wide. Around her, other students cast glances between Joshua and Jeonghan, as if trying to figure out something.

“Why, yes I am,” Jeonghan replies easily, giving her a winning smile that makes some of the girls visibly melt (Joshua snorts under his breath).“We eat lunch together sometimes.”

Suddenly, more students are glancing between the two teachers, while Joshua levels as heated a glare as he can at the biology teacher. Jeonghan enjoyed playing around with his students, but sometimes he lets his students take it too far. Finally, one girl bursts out, “Are you two dating?”

Immediately, Jeonghan laughs loudly, wordlessly telling the girl what he thinks. Joshua just sighs, exasperated. He didn’t care what Jeonghan did with his students--within reason, but he trusts his friend--as long as he didn’t drag Joshua into it.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” The biology teacher asks, overtly winking at Joshua, who’s getting less disturbed and more annoyed. Sometimes he wonders if Jeonghan has an ounce of professionalism with his students, but he has no way to check, because he has no excuse as an English teacher to sit in on Jeonghan’s classes.

The girls squeal, as the boys pull up their phones, ready to text the news should it be confirmed. “So, you and Mr. Hong are dating, Mr. Yoon?” One of them asks.

Joshua is mad. It’s one thing for Jeonghan to find out that he got married over the weekend, but it’s another for him to involve Joshua just to play around with the students and hint about his marriage so early.

“No, we aren’t dating,” Joshua intervenes before Jeonghan can put more ideas into his students’ heads. The students flinch at the firm, hard tone to his voice, used to Joshua’s gentle voice. “We’re just good friends, no matter what Mr. Yoon tells you.”

“Well, are you dating anyone, Mr. Hong?” One of the male students asks bravely, while everyone else reels from Joshua’s uncharacteristic anger, save for Jeonghan, who doesn’t seem to have realized what he’s done.

Joshua’s going to have to lie. If he even hedges a bit, the students will pick up on it and blow it out of proportion. At this point, though, he doesn’t feel an ounce of regret. He shakes his head. “No, I have no time for dating.” Technically not a lie, but not exactly the truth, either: Joshua didn’t have time to date, but he sure did have time to get married over the weekend.

Disappointed at their loss of fun, though somewhat frightened by Joshua’s sudden harshness, the students quickly filter out of the classroom, allowing Joshua to lock the doors and turn around to give Jeonghan a furious look. “I am so ing pissed at you,” he hisses. “I don’t care if you play around with your students in school, but keep me out of it.”

“Possessive husband?” Jeonghan guesses, a smug smirk on his face as he places the lunch bags on Joshua’s desk.

“Shut up,” he all but snarls, finally knocking the smile off the biology teacher’s face. “You have no idea what I’m going through right now. My marriage is the root of all my problems.”

Jeonghan straightens, immediately picking up on the serious tone of his voice. “What problems? How can you have problems so early in your marriage? Isn’t now like your honeymoon period?”

He snorts. “There would be, if I had actually been dating my husband before we got married.”

Jeonghan’s mouth drops open. “What? I-I don’t understand. How do you not know your husband before you got married?”

Joshua shrugs, turning to erase his notes on the board. “That’s what happens when you’re forced into an arranged marriage.”

“WHAT?!?” Jeonghan yells, walking closer to Joshua.

“Shut up, Jeonghan,” Joshua snaps. “I don’t need students to hear this.”

“, sorry,” he apologizes, sitting on a student’s desk again. “You got an arranged marriage. No, you were forced into an arranged marriage.” He frowns. “How? I thought your family was nice.”

“My grandfather’s the one who arranged it,” Joshua explains as he opens his lunch. “My... husband didn’t want to be the heir, so his grandfather wanted him to get an arranged marriage to keep his current job. My grandfather offered me up and proposed a business merge because he’s the CEO of an American company.”

“Wow,” Jeonghan breathes, taken back. “This is something out of a Korean drama. You know, with the chaebols and .”

“Yup,” Joshua agrees, taking a big bite. “Yet it’s real, and I hate it.”

“Who’s your husband?” Jeonghan asks.

“You know Woozi, that famous music producer?”

The biology teacher stands straight, eyes wide in complete shock. “You’re kidding me.”

Joshua shook his head wryly. “Nope. I’m married to Woozi.”

“And it’s bad?”

He shrugs, looking back down at his food. “It’s awkward, that’s for sure. He kinda showed me around yesterday when I moved in, and then spent the rest of the day working in his studio.”

“, I’m sorry I joked about it, Shua,” Jeonghan says softly, reaching out to rub his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have assumed. Especially since I didn’t know about him before or get an invite to said wedding.”

Joshua smiles slightly, feeling a little comforted. “Yeah, I would’ve invited you if I had been dating him beforehand. It was just a small thing at City Hall. No special vows, no guests outside of the witnesses, not even a kiss, just a handshake.”

“Wow, that’s... cold,” the biology teacher replies, still in shock.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” he laments, still staring at his food. “I can’t say the right things and it’s so awkward at home--it’s my home now, Jeonghan--and I don’t know what to do.”

At first, Jeonghan is quiet, with a contemplative look on his face. Joshua just keeps eating, unsure of what else to do.

“Start small,” Jeonghan says finally. “You, know, say ‘hello’ and ‘bye’ and things like that. Test the waters a bit, see if he at least wants to be friends. Give it some time at least. You guys just got married, it’s gonna be awkward for a while. Maybe after some time you guys can come to some sort of consensus on how you want to do this whole marriage thing.”

“Okay,” Joshua accepts easily. It’s all advice he could’ve gotten from anyone, but just hearing it from Jeonghan is reassuring.

“So, you will not believe what one of my students did to his frog before he dissected it,” Jeonghan starts suddenly, catching Joshua off guard, though it’s a welcome surprise.

“What did he do?”

When Joshua comes home, he hears someone rapping from the studio. It’s a deeper, rougher voice, so he assumes that it’s not Jihoon. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he sets his briefcase on the floor by the TV before heading back into the condo to make himself some food. Before he starts prepping, though, he remembers Jihoon. Does he cook him food? He has a guest, too: does he make enough for three? What if they’re allergic to what he wants to make? What if they’re not hungry? What if they have plans to order takeout instead?

In the end, he just decides to make enough for all three of them: if they decide to eat it, they can, otherwise it can be Joshua’s lunch for the next few days.

He’s cooking a large pot of fried rice when he hears a door open, and the same deep voice say, “I think that was our most productive session yet, Jihoon-ah.”

“Probably,” Jihoon replies, “though that’s not saying much, because you goof off during all of our sessions.”

“Yah, I’m older than you!” The deep voice scolds, though there’s no hint of scolding in his voice. “What’s that smell? It smells like... food. Edible food.”

“ off.”

Joshua braces himself for the upcoming meeting, keeping his eyes on the food as he waits for them to come into the kitchen.

“Joshua.” He turns at the sound of Jihoon’s voice to face Jihoon and his friend.

His friend is tall, taller than Joshua, and is well built, though his harsher features are softened by the bright, soft look in his eyes. The two of them are aesthetically polar opposites of each other: Seungcheol with his tall, muscular body but soft expression and Jihoon with his tiny, adorable exterior but hard face. He’s so distracted by having to meet this new friend that he almost forgets that he’s cooking.

Jolting back into reality, he moves to turn the heat off and give the fried rice a few stirs to prevent the rice at the bottom from sticking to the pan before setting the spoon down and approaching Jihoon and his friend. Giving him a polite smile, he extends a hand. “Hello, my name is Joshua.”

The friend takes his hand, giving it a firm handshake. “I’m Seungcheol, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he replies.

“Were you making dinner?” Jihoon asks, his voice not quite emotionless, but it was certainly not full of any fondness or affection.

He shrugs. “Yeah, it’s fried rice. I wasn’t sure if you both would want some.”

“I want some!” Seungcheol says immediately, his face lighting up. He’s kind of like a puppy, Joshua thinks. Another difference from Jihoon--or, rather, what he knows of Jihoon, given that he barely knows him. “Jihoonie, do you want some too?”

Joshua’s not sure what to expect, given that 1) Seungcheol had called Jihoon Jihoonie, which to him was asking for trouble and 2) he wasn’t sure Jihoon wanted to spend time with him in the first place.

Surprisingly, though, Jihoon shrugs, saying, “If that’s okay with you, Joshua,” not seeming bothered in the slightest by the diminutive given to him by Seungcheol.

Trying his best to appear unphased, Joshua nods and turns the heat back on to continue cooking. “I’m almost done, if you want to set the table, Jihoon.”

The look Jihoon gives him freaks him out: it’s one of apprehension and warning, and Joshua doesn’t know what to make of it. Did he already cross a line? Was he supposed to keep using honorifics with him? Did he ruin everything already?

Finally, his short husband huffs, moving past him to get the bowls, while Joshua tries to hide a sigh of relief into the fried rice he’s finishing up. Jihoon sets the bowls by the stove before calling, “Seungcheol, what do you want to drink?”

“Water’s fine,” is the response, followed by, “Can we sit outside? It’s such a nice day out!” Jihoon grumbles incoherently as he goes to get glasses.

Joshua’s carrying the bowls over to the table out on the porch, where everything’s set up, when he realizes that Jihoon never asked him if he wanted anything to drink, and there’s three glasses of water at the table.

He takes a deep breath, calming himself and pushing the stinging in his chest down. He’s blowing everything out of proportion, expecting more than he should. So what if Jihoon didn’t ask? He still got him a drink, didn’t he? He should appreciate that at the very least.

When he sits down at the table, he meets Seungcheol’s eyes, which have been staring at him with a gentle scrutiny that doesn’t exactly set him on edge, though it does make him somewhat self conscious.

He bends his head down to say grace, only to look back up to see both of them staring at him in revelation. He really feels self conscious now, and more importantly, uncomfortable. He wants to get out of this right now, but he also doesn’t want to embarrass Jihoon or give Seungcheol the wrong impression.

Before he can fully come up with an excuse, Seungcheol interrupts, saying, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just... never realized you were religious. Jihoonie never said anything.”

Simultaneously still baffled by how the tall man can call Jihoon by such a cute nickname and not come out of it decapitated and now terrified that said tall man can also read him like a book, Joshua can only let out a stunned, “uh...” that is sure to embarrass Jihoon. Thankfully, he catches himself quickly, adding, “yeah, I go to church. I’m not, like, super religious though. I’m not gonna ask you to come with me or convert, Jihoon-sshi,” he glances at his husband as he says this. Jihoon just nods curtly, nothing more than acknowledgement in the action. Joshua pretends his heart doesn’t sink, just a little. Stuffing his mouth full of food works as a good distraction.

Seemingly ignoring the stiff tension between the two husbands, Seungcheol swallows a bite of rice and asks cheerfully, “so, Jihoon never told me what you did. You have a job, right? Or do you just like waking up early in the morning, unlike him.” He gestures to Joshua’s husband, not even flinching when the smaller man smacks him hard on the shoulder, which says something about either Seungcheol’s endurance or Jihoon’s strength.

Caught off guard by the question (and also embarrassed about that morning,) Joshua lets out a startled laugh, covering his mouth quickly afterward. For a moment, he imagines seeing something close to affection (close being a relative term) flash in Jihoon’s eyes, but he ignores it for answering Seungcheol. “Yeah, I’m a highschool teacher.”

“Really?” He asks, eyes wide. “Like, you sit in a stuffy classroom and teach hormonal, rude teenagers for seven hours for a living?”

Joshua can’t help but laugh a little more, put at ease by the man. “It’s really not that bad,” he says. “I mean, the classroom isn’t stuffy at all.”

Seungcheol cackles at the teacher’s joke, and Joshua even sees the corners of Jihoon’s lips quirk up. He feels a ridiculous rush of achievement at having made some progress--if only slight--in his relationship with Jihoon. “What do you teach?” Seungcheol asks.

“English literature. I mainly teach upperclassmen, so they’re a little more mature, especially my AP classes, but it’s still sort of 50/50 whether or not they actually pay attention,” he jokes lightly, and is rewarded by seeing Seungcheol laugh again and Jihoon’s lips curl upward a little more.

“Literature, huh,” Seungcheol hums contemplatively. “Never liked literature much.”

“It’s hard when it’s for school,” Joshua agrees. “Everyone has their own taste in books like they have their own taste in music. It’s hard enough to find a genre everyone will like, and even harder when it’s written in a completely different time period and therefore an entirely different culture that seems bizarre in nature. If I could, I would just have every student pick a book they might like from a list, and then come in and have long discussions about it, but it’s impractical and time-consuming.”

He’s ranting a bit, and he’s definitely gotten off track of Jeonghan’s original plan, but when he sees the pure admiration in Seungcheol’s eyes, and the look of mild attentiveness in Jihoon’s, he feels victorious.

Wanting to turn the attention away from himself, he asks, “Seungcheol, you’re a rapper, right? That was you when I came home?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol grins. “Have you heard of S.Coups?”

Joshua has to think about it. It’s been awhile since he’s listened to any recent mainstream music, but he’s definitely heard that name before. He’s probably at least heard a few covers on YouTube before. “I think so,” he says finally, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “I think some of my students like your music, I think that’s where I hear your name the most.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Glad to know the kids are enjoying my music,” Seungcheol says simply.

“Sorry, who composed the entirety of the song and wrote the lyrics?” Jihoon speaks up for the first time. “Watch what you’re calling your music.” His words are accusatory, but his tone is teasing.

“Well, who pays attention to the producers of a song?” Seungcheol shoots back. “Everyone talks about the artist, not the composer.”

“Then who are the Chainsmokers? Who’s Zedd?” Jihoon retorts. “DJs, yes, but technically still producers.”

Joshua can tell they’re getting into an well-worn argument, and he feels slightly left out, but also amused by how Seungcheol brings Jihoon out of his shell or, at least, the shell he’s in whenever he’s around Joshua. Was that his fault? Was he not trying hard enough? Maybe he was expecting more. He has to remind himself that he’s only just met the guy two days ago, and that he should be a little more patient.

Apparently, a lot happened while Joshua was having an inner monologue, and when he comes to, he sees Jihoon on top of Seungcheol, attempting to strangle him. For a brief moment, he’s alarmed, thinking of ways to separate the two, but then he registers that Seungcheol is laughing, and he’s trying to tickle Jihoon off of him, so he lets them be. Their bowls are empty, and they look like they’re no longer hungry, so he picks up their bowls and glasses and carries them to the sink to wash.

He comes back to see that Jihoon and Seungcheol have stopped their play fighting, and are looking straight at him. Seungcheol’s eyes are apologetic, and Jihoon’s are as neutral as always. Joshua blinks. Did he do something wrong?

“Oh, uh, were you two still hungry?” Joshua asks, starting to turn back. “I can get you more--”

He stops when Seungcheol responds, “No, we’re not. We just freaked out because you disappeared.”

“Ah, sorry,” Joshua says, not knowing what else to say. “I just wanted to clean up a bit, and you two looked like you were having too much fun.”

“Thank you, Joshua.” Jihoon’s words startle Joshua, but he can see the sincerity in his eyes. He doesn’t know what he’s being thanked for, not when doing something as simple as the dishes or letting him enjoy his friends is something small, something he’d do for all his other friends.

“Uh, you’re welcome, Jihoon-sshi,” he stammers finally. He thinks now is a good time to bow out, not because he’s uncomfortable, but because one of his classes had to turn in an essay today, and he needs to grade them. “I have some essays to grade, so I’ll be inside. Let me know if you need me.”

Both of them nod before Jihoon starts talking about the song he and Seungcheol must be working on. Taking it as his cue to leave, Joshua returns inside to start the stifling task of grading essays.

Seungcheol ends up staying the night, reminding Joshua of Jihoon’s reasoning for sharing a bed, and Joshua is freaking out because Jihoon and he are going to bed at the same time and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s sitting on the bed, waiting for Jihoon to finish up in the bathroom (Was he supposed to finish up? Should he have gone to bed? Would that have been too rude?) while trying to find something to do that wouldn’t make it obvious that he was waiting for Jihoon. He ends up just laying in bed, scrolling through his phone.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” Jihoon’s voice startles him, making him turn to see Jihoon turn off the main lights, leaving the lamps on the night tables on.

Joshua fumbles with his words for a few moments before he answers, “I know, but it felt rude to just go to sleep.”

There’s a snort from Jihoon as he clambers into bed. “You really are a gentleman,” he comments. “A white knight.”

Somehow, that grates on Joshua’s nerves, despite the fact that he’s heard the same words from countless other people, simply because it’s Jihoon who says it. Maybe it’s because Jihoon’s going to be more involved in his life than others, or maybe he’s reached his limit of tolerance, but Joshua never wants to hear those words again, especially from Jihoon. “Don’t.”

He says it firmly and resolutely, despite the fact that he refuses to look over at Jihoon, who immediately turns to look at him, training his eyes on the ceiling. “I hate being called that.”

“A gentleman?” Jihoon probes, though it’s respectful and polite.

“A white knight, or a prince, or a fantasy, whatever,” Joshua gestures vaguely. “I hate people giving me this two-dimensional image that I won’t ever live up to because it’s an ideal and not who I am. People just see me as their ‘dream prince’ and don’t see me as the awkward guy who just knows how to be polite. So please, Jihoon-sshi, while we’re married, please don’t refer to me as someone I’m not.” He turns his head to face Jihoon.

When he makes eye contact with Jihoon, his world turns on its axis. Jihoon’s simply looking at him, without the influence of others, taking in his new husband. There’s a sense of vulnerability and wariness in his eyes, like Joshua’s gone past one of Jihoon’s many walls. He can feel himself getting closer to him, even though it’s only been two days and Joshua hasn’t made much progress.

“Okay,” Jihoon says simply. “I can understand that.” There’s a brief pause as Jihoon looks at something over his head before he looks back at Joshua and adds, “If I had to do public stuff as Woozi, I would lose it.”

Joshua hums, not having anything to say to that. He still doesn’t know Jihoon well, so he can’t make any judgements.

“You can...” Jihoon begins tentatively, “you can drop the honorifics too, if you want. It feels weird to hear you use them when I don’t.”

“Okay,” Joshua agrees. After a pause, he adds, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Joshua just lays there and listens to the sound of their quiet breaths in the empty night.

This might not be so bad.