Taeyong settles himself in the backseat of the car, behind Eunyong so Johnny can sit in the front and stretch his long legs out. They just dropped off a bag of Taeyong’s things at the bakery because he’ll be staying the night, along with the bouquet of flowers Taeyong had prepared, perched in a pretty glass vase. Eunyong buckles her seatbelt and adjusts her mirrors. She catches Taeyong’s eye in the reflection, and gives him a little smile.

 

The ride to the airport is mostly silent, some throwback hits playing faintly on the radio. Taeyong watches the trees blur by, absently flipping his phone around in his hands. Today is a good day; his eye bags aren’t as noticeable, his breathing isn’t as strained, and he’s not cold. Eunyong said he barely looked sick at all. He hopes she’s right. He hopes Johnny won’t see it.

 

They’re parking when he gets a text from Johnny saying he’s landed. They take their time on the way to the arrivals hall, stopping for snacks and smoothies. Taeyong sips at his yogurt smoothie, the strawberry-banana one for Johnny clutched in his other hand and numbing his fingers as they wait. 

 

Eunyong sees him first, and waves with her whole arm to catch his attention. He’s towing two suitcases, duffel bag strapped precariously on top of the larger one, his overstuffed backpack making him hunch his shoulders with its weight. He looks exhausted, but he smiles brightly when he sees them, and Taeyong feels his chest constrict a little bit.

 

“Hi, you guys,” Johnny says when he’s within earshot. He releases his bags to give first Eunyong, and then Taeyong a big hug, ignoring Taeyong’s weak warnings about spilling the smoothies. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. You look well, Eunyong, how are you?”

 

“I’m good!” Eunyong says, taking one of his bags and nodding them toward the exit. “How was your time abroad?”

 

“Really good,” Johnny tells her, smiling and mouthing a thank-you to Taeyong, taking the offered smoothie. “I learned a lot!”

 

They get back to the car and load all of Johnny’s things in the trunk and the backseat, and then start on their way home. 

 

“I’m so excited for Mark’s birthday party,” Johnny says as they get on the highway. “I’m really glad I didn’t have to miss it.

 

“Better get lots of sleep tonight,” Eunyong says, sounding more like their mother than herself for a moment. “You must be really jet-lagged.”

 

“All the better,” Johnny says, stifling a yawn. “I’ll sleep during the day, and be super awake for the party because I’ll be up at night.”

 

“If you’re too tired, I don’t have to stay over,” Taeyong pipes up.

 

“No, please stay,” Johnny says immediately. “I might not be awake the whole time, but I missed you.”

 

“Missed you too,” Taeyong says, half on reflex, deflating back into his seat. 

 

Eunyong drops them off at the bakery, and helps them unload. Johnny’s dad comes out to greet them and helps move Johnny’s things upstairs. 

 

Taeyong sits on his sofa, aimlessly scrolling his phone while Johnny gets doted on by his parents downstairs. It’s still business hours, though, so he’s soon shooed up to his room to get some rest. 

 

“They’re really acting like I’d been gone for another year,” Johnny says, shaking his head and shutting the door. He notices the flowers, and runs a hand over the petals. “Did you do this?”

 

“Yeah,” Taeyong says shyly. “Roses and carnations. To say I miss you.”

 

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” Johnny murmurs, bending down to smell them before going to his bags. “So what did I miss?”

 

“Not much, other than the preparations for Mark’s birthday party,” Taeyong replies. “He still thinks it’s just gonna be a casual night in, as far as I know.”

 

“Well, he’s clueless about pretty much everything,” Johnny says frankly, “so I don’t think he’s going to figure it out in the next 36 hours or so.” 

 

“Don’t be mean,” Taeyong chides, but he knows Johnny doesn’t mean it. “I’m excited to see his face.”

 

“Did you already do all the floral arrangements?” Johnny asks as he rummages through his luggage, extracting his toiletries. 

 

“Yeah, Yuta wanted roses because he’s a big sap, so it wasn’t too hard,” Taeyong tells him with a laugh. “They’re a pretty sturdy flower, so leaving them overnight in the fridge should be fine.”

 

“Good.” Johnny sounds a little distracted. “That’s good. I’m gonna shower, and then we can catch up till I pass out, okay?”

 

He’s probably just tired, Taeyong thinks. “‘Kay,” he says.

 

The faint roar of the shower starts up a few seconds after Johnny shuts the bathroom door, and Taeyong goes back to his phone. He’s straining to ask about Ten, but he also doesn’t want Johnny to bring him up, ever. He purses his lips, staring moodily at his screen. He thought he would feel better with Johnny back, but there’s an almost imperceptible barrier between them, somehow. Their conversation seemed cold and stunted. But if a year apart didn’t change a thing, why does it feel strange now? 

 

Taeyong has no idea. He’s probably just tired, he repeats to himself. Tired, and probably still a little upset about Ten. You’re being paranoid. 

 

But what if the flowers were too much? What if he thinks it’s weird that you used roses, and then turned around and called Yuta a romantic sap for wanting bouquets of them for his boyfriend? Maybe he can tell somehow, another little voice in his head points out.

 

Taeyong shakes his head. That’s ridiculous. You’ve done nothing to give yourself away. Stop worrying.  

 

He casts a glance at Johnny’s open suitcase, half emptied. His eyes catch something small and purple on the white sleeve of one of his sweaters. He slips off the couch and crouches, pinching it between his fingers and holding it up close. It’s a singular lavender bud, dark purple, mostly dry. Taeyong frowns. Johnny hadn’t mentioned going to a lavender farm. If he had, he would’ve sent pictures. 

 

He considers asking about it, but realizes that he’d have to admit snooping a little, and though he doubts Johnny would really mind or take offense, it’s not worth it to him to ask. So he just flicks it off his finger, back into the suitcase, and returns to the couch. 

 

Johnny comes out of the bathroom in just a towel, as usual, and Taeyong keeps his eyes trained on his dark phone screen as Johnny quickly pulls on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and then drops down on the couch beside him. 

 

“It’s really good to be home,” he says, a tired smile on his lips. “Airplanes aren’t built for anyone over, like, 170 centimeters tall.”

 

“Yeah, but you love being tall,” Taeyong points out, though he gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it’s a bit cramped.”

 

“Nah, I’m just being a baby,” Johnny says easily, running his fingers through his wet hair to help it dry. 

 

“So how was the course? And living in the city? The view from your apartment looks really cool,” Taeyong says.

 

“Oh, it was good. I have some ideas, as usual. We’ll see if my parents want to listen to me, but I can always tuck them in my back pocket for later.” He grins. “Eventually, they’ll turn the shop over to me and then they won’t be able to stop me. But yeah, the city was good. It was a nice change of pace, but it definitely reminded me how much better I like it here.” He gives Taeyong a sideways look. “Besides, it’s not as nice when you’re away from everyone you love.”

 

“Well, the city life definitely suits you more than me,” Taeyong says. “You’re comfortable around people. I could picture you in one.”

 

“Ten said the same thing,” Johnny says, and Taeyong stiffens a little. “He was really surprised when I told him I was from a tiny town in the countryside.”

 

“About him,” Taeyong says, swallowing hard. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Johnny replies. His eyes are on the wall, and his expression is distant. “He said my life seems full and warm. Those words exactly. It was just interesting, I guess, that he could tell.” He shoots Taeyong a smile. “He’s not wrong, though.” Something about the way he says it seems hollow, but Taeyong can’t put his finger on it. 

 

They chat for a little while longer. Johnny shows Taeyong a couple souvenirs as he unpacks a bit, but eventually he starts yawning and Taeyong shoos him to bed.

 

“I can entertain myself. Go to sleep,” he says when Johnny tries to protest. “Want me to close the blinds?”

 

Johnny nods sleepily, so Taeyong tugs them shut and goes back to his phone. 

 

After a little while, though, Johnny’s snoring, and Taeyong moves from the couch to the bed. He tucks the covers a little closer around Johnny’s shoulders and then settles back to watch him for a bit. Taeyong wishes he could touch him, wishes he could his hair but he’s afraid Johnny will wake up, so he contents himself with just looking. He allows himself to wander into the fantasy that Johnny will watch him the same way later tonight, when it’s his turn to sleep and Johnny’s turn to pace quietly. He imagines his soft smile, and it’s devastating.

 

Taeyong sits like that for an hour or so. It’s how he knows he’s ed, that even Johnny’s snoring is soothing and endearing to him. Eventually, though, he starts to creep himself out, so he moves back to the couch. He finds a copy of The Little Prince online after some shopping and begins to read—he’s been meaning to comb through it for hints after his rather disturbing dream a few nights before. 

 

It’s quick, easy reading, being a children’s book. Still, it’s more melancholy than he remembered, especially for a children’s book. He is nearing the end when he finds a section that strikes him so deeply he thinks he might cry.

 

"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important." 

 

He looks over at Johnny’s sleeping form. He’d spent his whole life learning how to love him. It seemed so fruitless for a moment—knowing that if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be where he is now. But he tries to imagine his life without Johnny—and he just can’t. 

 

It circles back to why he knew early on he’d never get the surgery. The love is worth it, in the end, even if it kills him. To carve this love out of him would be to throw away all the time he spent loving Johnny. 

 

It’s stupid, but it makes perfect sense to him all the same. At least I’m at peace with the hand I’ve been dealt, he thinks, remembering what Eunyong had said. That’s good for something.

 

A few more hours pass. Taeyong finishes the story and goes back to social media. Johnny barely shifts in the bed the whole time, so thoroughly exhausted he probably isn’t even dreaming. Taeyong’s pretty sure he’ll wake up with imprints all over his skin from the sheets. 

 

Around closing time, Taeyong hears footsteps coming up the stairs, and then Johnny’s mom pokes her head in the room. 

 

“Oh, hi,” she stage-whispers when she realizes Johnny is asleep. “Dinner in a half an hour, okay?”

 

“Okay, thank you,” Taeyong replies. “Do you need any help?”

 

“No, no,” she says, waving him off. “We’re just heating up some leftovers, really. Besides, your mom told me how you’ve been wearing yourself out preparing for Mark’s party with the others. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Okay,” Taeyong murmurs as she shuts the door, a little uncomfortable. Wearing yourself out. Like he’s a little kid who doesn’t know when to stop playing and come in for nap time. 

 

He wakes Johnny a little before the half hour is up.

 

“What in’ time is it?” Johnny groans, cracking open an eye. Taeyong is delighted to see he was right—there’s deep lines in the cheek that had been resting against the pillow.

 

“Almost 6:30. Your mom said dinner soon,” Taeyong says, trying unsuccessfully to stifle giggles.

 

“What’s so funny?” Johnny scrubs his face with his hands, yawning. 

 

“Go look at yourself in the mirror,” Taeyong laughs. “You look stupid.”

 

“Oh, thanks.” Johnny swings his long legs out of bed and pads over to the bathroom, flicking on the light. There’s a couple of beats of silence, and then he returns. “Okay, yeah, I do look stupid.”

 

“It’s okay, it means you slept well,” Taeyong assures him. “Dinner?”

 

“Yeah, c’mon.”

 

Dinner is quiet and warm. Taeyong mostly keeps his head down and lets the Seos catch up with each other, and then excuses himself from the table early to give them some space. He goes back upstairs and grabs his change of clothes and a towel from Johnny’s closet and locks himself in the bathroom. 

 

He brushes his teeth quickly, trying not to look too long in the mirror, and then strips. He catches a glimpse of his shoulder blades, his spine, sharp and prominent against the pale skin of his back, and sighs, the breath shaky in his lungs. When he goes to turn the shower on, he notices something collected on top of the drain. Curious, and a little afraid, he bends down to pick it up.

 

It’s a clump of lavender, just like the one he’d seen in Johnny’s suitcase, still a little damp. Understanding starts to settle over him. Fearfully, he backtracks to the garbage can and sifts through gingerly, poking at balled up tissues until he finds it—crumpled lavender, no stems but some green at the base of the buds, wet and fresh.

 

Taeyong tosses the cluster he found in the shower in and buries it all again, and then sits back on the cold tile. Johnny is in love with somebody and they don’t love him back. Well, correction , Johnny’s probably in love with a boy—lavender has become a symbol of homouality ever since the Lavender Scare of the 20s. 

 

Taeyong thinks of Ten, and thinks of how strange and empty Johnny has been acting, and it clicks in his mind. Of course he’d be acting weird. At least Taeyong gets to spend his last months with the boy he loves. Johnny is oceans away, still reeling from the breakup, and walking around with the knowledge that he’s going to die. It makes perfect sense why he doesn’t want to talk about Ten much, and it almost makes sense that he wouldn’t tell Taeyong about it. Isn’t that what Taeyong’s been doing to him this whole time? 

 

He sighs, picking himself up off the floor, and steps into the shower. Do I ask him about it? he wonders to himself. But if he starts asking questions, he has a feeling Johnny may very well turn those same questions back around at him, and Taeyong’s not sure how great he’s going to be at lying to his face. Besides, if Johnny wanted him to know, he would’ve told him. He should be allowed to tell him when he wants to. Plus, Taeyong doesn’t want Johnny to worry about his grieving, the way Taeyong is with Doyoung and Eunyong. If Johnny doesn’t want him to worry about him, then it’s best he believes that Taeyong doesn’t know anything is wrong.

 

He dries off and gets dressed on autopilot, still turning it all over in his head. At least I’ll be the first to go, he thinks to himself, kind of selfishly. I don’t want to be at his funeral. I don’t want to see him in pain.

 

Johnny’s back upstairs when Taeyong comes out of the bathroom. 

 

“Hey,” he says when he sees him. “Wanna watch a movie?”

 

“Yeah,” Taeyong agrees, setting his stuff down. “You pick.”

 

Johnny picks Begin Again , one of his favorites, and they settle down to watch. Taeyong is yawning by the time the credits start rolling, though, and Johnny immediately turns it off and pushes him to the bed. 

 

“I got to sleep earlier, now you have to,” he insists. “I’ll be here in the morning, c’mon.”

 

Taeyong crawls into bed, but to his surprise Johnny follows after turning off the lights.

 

“Thought you weren’t sleepy?” he asks as Johnny tucks the covers around both of them.

 

“I missed you, , let me cuddle my best friend,” he says, sounding much more like his normal self. Taeyong laughs, rolling his eyes, and curls up against Johnny’s shoulder, shuffling to squish the pillow up under his jaw. Johnny watches him as he gets comfortable, and reaches out to poke his collarbone. “My mom says your mom is worried about you,” he murmurs. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Taeyong says. “And it sounds like you and your mom and my mom are in cahoots, so I wouldn’t tell you anyway because you’d snitch.”

 

“I’ve never snitched in my life!” Johnny is indignant, but his hand stays where it is, tracing Taeyong’s collarbone back and forth.

 

“What about that time you promised you wouldn’t tell my mom about me throwing up at track practice, and then you did? Ooh, or that time you told Doyoung it was me that lost his favorite pen? Or—“

 

“Okay, the second one is simply comeuppance,” Johnny defends. “He was going to find out sooner or later anyway. And the first one is called taking care of you, which is what friends do. It’s what I’m trying to do now. If I swear I won’t tell anybody, will you tell me what’s going on?”

 

“Nothing’s going on,” Taeyong says, closing his eyes. “Just been tired lately. You know how at the end of summer you kind of feel like you’re dying, and you’re sad all the time for no reason? It’s just that.”

 

“Okay,” Johnny says, like he doesn’t believe him, but he withdraws his hand and stops asking. “Go to sleep, then. Big day tomorrow. Yuta will kill us if we’re not in top shape.”

 

“He probably will,” Taeyong agrees, laughing. “Can’t blame him, though. He loves Mark, and he went through a lot to get here.”

 

“Mm, he’s lucky, though,” Johnny says. There’s a beat of silence, and Taeyong doesn’t want to ask what he means because he already knows. “Okay, goodnight, Taeyong.”

 

“G’night, Johnny,” Taeyong whispers back, closing his eyes. 

 

= = =

 

Taeyong sleeps late, unable to wrench himself from another confusing dream, and Johnny has coffee brewing for him when he finally wakes. He looks tired and a little harried, but Taeyong doesn’t mention it, just thanks him for the coffee and asks if he’s eaten.

 

“Yeah, I was thinking we could go poke around the kitchen to see what we could scrounge up. There’s probably day-old scones,” Johnny suggests. “We can’t sell them, so… might as well eat them. And then I’ll probably sleep.”

 

They eat their scones quietly, and then Taeyong goes to brush his teeth so he can pop across the street to the shop to check in with his parents. Johnny settles down into bed, and Taeyong draws the blinds shut so he can sleep peacefully.

 

“I’m going,” he says, unsure if Johnny is still awake. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours or so, okay? Probably with food.”

 

“Something with noodles would be much appreciated,” Johnny murmurs, shifting under the covers. “Hey, Taeyong?”

 

Taeyong’s hand is on the doorknob, but he drops it back to his side. “Yeah?”

 

“You sure you’re alright?” Johnny asks.

 

Look who’s talking! “Yeah,” Taeyong says, trying to keep his voice steady. “Why?”

 

“Last night, you were crying in your sleep,” Johnny says softly. “You didn’t really wake up, so I don’t think you’d remember, but… Well. I guess it was just a nightmare.”

 

“I don’t really… um, I don’t really remember my dreams,” Taeyong says quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

 

“No, that’s okay.”

 

There’s another weird beat of silence, and then Taeyong just sighs to himself and turns the doorknob. “Go to sleep, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

 

“‘Kay. Say hi to your parents for me.”

 

“Will do.” Taeyong shuts the door behind him and hurries down the stairs, popping his head into the kitchen to let Johnny’s parents know where he’s going.

 

“Okay, sounds good!” Mr. Seo calls.

 

“Can I get you guys anything while I’m out?” Taeyong asks, poster child for filial piety ringing in his ears.

 

“No, but thank you for offering,” Mr. Seo replies, waving him off.

 

So Taeyong heads across the street and slips into the shop. His mother beckons him over and sets him to work separating wilting flowers from healthy ones. Eunyong joins him after a little bit, and they work in companionable silence, pointing out flowers the other missed, and taking turns changing out the compost bag.

 

“You seem a little upset,” Eunyong says softly. “Which, I mean, makes sense, considering—everything. But I think there’s something else.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it here,” Taeyong whispers back. “I’ll tell you tonight, after the party, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Eunyong agrees. “If you don’t want Mom to start asking, though, you better fix your expression. You look like you want to cry.”

 

“Thanks,” Taeyong mutters.

 

His parents send him back to get Johnny up when the customers begin to dwindle, telling Taeyong they’ll help bring Mark’s bouquets out when he’s ready to go. 

 

Johnny’s still sleeping when he gets back, so Taeyong decides to let him sleep a little longer, taking a quick shower and changing into something a little nicer for the night ahead. He swipes on some concealer to soften his dark circles, and does his best to style his hair. He turns in the mirror, and is, for the first time in a while, actually quite pleased with his appearance. He’s wearing a black button down with little white leaves spaced intermittently down it. Normally he’d a couple more buttons, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to his sunken sternum, so only the top two remain undone. He’s paired it with ripped black jeans and lots of silver jewelry. His earrings flash in the light when he moves his head. He’s… almost pretty, and it makes him smile.

 

He packs up his things and then goes to shake Johnny’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says. “Party in an hour. Thought you might want some time to get ready.”

 

“Thanks,” Johnny says, voice hoarse, brushing sleep from his eyes.

 

Taeyong smiles a little, going to open the blinds and let in the early evening light. “We have to swing by the shop for the flowers, but that shouldn’t take too long.” He turns to see Johnny looking at him. “What?”

 

“You look good,” Johnny says with a light laugh, pushing himself out of bed. “I like that shirt.”

 

“Thanks,” Taeyong says softly, biting at his nails as he drops to the couch and waits for Johnny to be ready. Johnny pulls on light wash jeans and when he turns around to rummage through his closet for a shirt, Taeyong is definitely not staring at his . He finally settles on a short sleeve white button up, though he leaves his very ed, much to the detriment of Taeyong’s sanity. He grins as he struggles to tuck it in, asking Taeyong to pick out a couple necklaces for him.

 

When they’re both satisfied with their appearances, they head down to the parking lot and hop into Johnny’s car, then pull around the back of the flower shop so Taeyong’s parents can load the bouquets in. Taeyong texts Yuta that they’re on their way, and Johnny drives down the road to Chenle’s house. It’s a little removed, mostly due to its size, and closer to the ocean. Taeyong can smell salt on the breeze when he steps out of the car. 

 

Chenle is at the door, shepherding people in, and he waves hello. 

 

“Hi Taeyong! Welcome back, Johnny! Yuta has strict orders that the bouquets go on the stairs.” Chenle points to the large platforms on top of the posts of the railings. “One on each. And then the last one in the center of the dinner table.”

 

They set to work helping with the last-minute decorations, and then Chenle calls around the corner from the foyer, where they’ll all wait and hide until Yuta arrives with Mark in tow. Taeyong flattens himself against the wall next to Johnny, Doyoung on his other side. Johnny shoots him a happy, excited grin.

 

They only have a few minutes to wait, soft breathless conversations bubbling up and consequently getting aggressively shushed when they get too loud, and then the door is opening, and they hear Mark’s voice.

 

“Ooh, roses,” he says. 

 

“For you.” Yuta’s voice is full of sugar, and Doyoung mimes throwing up into his palms.

 

“It is… really quiet, though,” Mark says, suspicion working its way into his voice. “Yuta, is this a prank?”

 

Before Yuta can respond, Donghyuck gives the signal and they all burst into action, spilling out into the foyer. “Surprise!”

 

“!” Mark yelps, even though he had to have been expecting it, half-collapsing against Yuta’s side. “Wait, did you guys set this all up?”

 

“This is only the start! Your boyfriend was working us all to the bone,” Yukhei informs him, earning himself a smack from Sicheng for being rude. 

 

“Come on, we made the dining room really pretty. And there’s so many drinks for you to try,” Jeno says, before an argument can break out. 

 

Dinner is loud and rowdy, and Taeyong thinks Chenle’s parents have to be either very trusting or simply too rich to care to allow a bunch of idiot boys into their home for a night of drinking. Still, he supposes, none of them are particularly violent, at least toward inanimate objects, so the china cabinet should remain untouched.

 

Eventually, though, they’ve eaten their fill and they head to the basement. Chenle has a pool table and a literal bar down there, as well as a TV with an Xbox and a speaker system, so it’s basically every young person’s idea of a good time. Jaehyun is put in charge of the aux, and soon bass is thrumming in Taeyong’s ears as he sips his third (or maybe fourth?) cup of sangria, pressing a stray piece of strawberry into the roof of his mouth with his tongue.

 

It doesn’t slip his notice that Johnny disappears a couple of times during the night to the bathroom. Taeyong’s surprised he, himself, hasn’t yet, either, but he supposes it’s because his body is getting weaker, and won’t be assed to cough the flowers up until they’re much more mature. Johnny’s in the earliest stages, by his guess, so any disruption would have his lungs crying for help.

 

Still, he feels like he has to bring it up. “So, Uno reverse card, are you okay?” he asks when Johnny slinks back into the party for the third time. The music is lower now, and a few of their friends have already passed out on various couches. 

 

“What do you mean?” Johnny asks.

 

“You keep disappearing. I know you’re not going to throw up because you haven’t been drinking, since you’re driving us home. So what’s up?”

 

“Just peeing, Christ. Why are you so up my about it?”

 

“I’m allowed to be worried, right?” Taeyong asks.

 

“Sure, and so am I, which means that’s your last cup,” Johnny says sternly, flicking the rim to punctuate his point. 

 

Johnny’s definitely right, because Taeyong sneaks another cup or two anyway, and the rest of the night is a little spotty in his memories. He definitely remembers a rather disgruntled-looking Kun ushering Yuta and Mark out of the door, probably before they end up ing in one of the guest rooms. He remembers seeing Jeno and Jaemin curled up together on the L-shaped sectional in the corner, fast asleep. He remembers going up to the top floor to look at the sea from the balcony with Johnny, Kunhang, and Jisung, and Kunhang nearly plummeting down to the yard three stories below. He remembers Renjun and Chenle getting in a really heated argument over video games that only ended because Doyoung intervened. He remembers Johnny, flushed from all the shouting and running around, propping him upright against his chest, swaying them around the center of the room to a slower song as the night wound down.

 

“Hey.” Taeyong looks up at him, trying really hard to focus his eyes. Johnny laughs. “We should get you home, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Taeyong agrees. His lips feel numb and his legs don’t feel like his own, but it doesn’t matter because Johnny’s strong arms are around his waist and shoulders. He allows himself this moment of weakness, leaning into Johnny, pretending everything is alright. They trip up the stairs and out into the driveway. Johnny half-guides, half-lowers Taeyong into the passenger seat and buckles him in, and then circles to the other side, sliding in and starting the car.

 

“I told you not to have any more,” Johnny says, but he’s mostly just saying it to say it.

 

“I’m okay,” Taeyong says. “I’ll just go straight to bed.”

 

“I can barely understand what you’re saying,” Johnny chuckles as he turns out onto the road. “You’re lucky I’m patient, and I’ve been thrown up on so many times I’ve lost count.”

 

“‘M not gonna throw up,” Taeyong protests, but he proves himself wrong as soon as Johnny parks in his driveway, shoving the door open and hurling the contents of his stomach into the grass.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Johnny says, tired but soothing. He helps Taeyong back to his feet and then digs around in the flower pot by the door for the spare key.

 

Taeyong does feel a lot better after throwing up, but he still lets Johnny help him up to his room.

 

“Sorry for being so high-maintenance,” he mumbles.

 

Johnny rolls his eyes. “You’re only high-maintenance when you’re drunk. I’m high-maintenance all the time.” He nudges Taeyong into the bathroom, plopping down in an armchair. “I’ll wait out here and even tuck you into bed when you’re ready, you big baby.” Taeyong just giggles.

 

Soon, Taeyong’s nestled comfortably under the covers, air conditioning humming pleasantly in the corner, trash can right by the head of his bed. “Thanks, Johnny,” he whispers.

 

“Yeah,” Johnny replies, flicking off the light and then crossing back over to him. “Sleep well. Text me when you get up so I know you survived the night, okay?” There’s humor in his voice, but some unnameable sadness underneath it that Taeyong can’t place. “Love you, dude. See you later.”

 

“Love you, too,” Taeyong replies. The heat of Johnny’s hand disappears from his shoulder, and he’s left alone in the dark.

 

= = =

 

Eunyong is waiting downstairs the next morning, breakfast cooling on the table, when Taeyong gets up. 

 

“Mom and Dad are already at the shop,” she says. “I wanna know what’s bothering you. I told them you were probably hungover and would need a little coddling.”

 

Taeyong sighs, sliding into the chair across from Eunyong and giving a grateful groan when she passes him some coffee. “You were right.”

 

“ it up, I’m not a coddler.”

 

“Right.” Taeyong takes a long sip of coffee, thinking about where to start. “Well. Johnny had a very short relationship with a guy when he was at the training program, right? It lasted about two-ish weeks? Anyway, he had invited him to come back with him to see this place, but he said no, and they broke up. I don’t think Johnny is over him, though.”

 

“Oh.” Eunyong makes a sympathetic face. “I’m sorry, Taeyong. Does he talk about him a lot?”

 

“No, that’s not it. He doesn’t really talk about him. And if that were all, it wouldn’t even be that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things,” Taeyong continues. “No, Eunyong, I think Johnny has hanahaki, too. For Ten—for that guy. I found wet lavender buds in his trash last night, and in the shower. I even found one in his suitcase.”

 

“Oh,” Eunyong repeats. “Oh my god. Are you—are you gonna ask him about it?”

 

Taeyong shakes his head. “No, I… I don’t want to have that conversation with him, because then I’ll have to tell him I have it too.”

 

“Well, you wouldn’t have to—“ Eunyong begins, but Taeyong cuts her off.

 

“Yeah, but I should.” He shakes his head. “I’m not ready for that, so I doubt he is either. He’s got enough to worry about without having to worry about me on top of it, in any case.”

 

“Sometimes I wonder if you actually hear the words that come out of your mouth,” Eunyong says, rolling her eyes. “Okay, play the martyr then, if you want. My official suggestion would be to talk to him as soon as possible, though.”

 

“I’ll give it a little while longer,” Taeyong says. “Still no blood, remember? I have time.”