A/N: I apologize for the long hiatus, but I assure you that I haven't forsaken this story. I shall see it to the end. I've actually had the ending planned from the beginning years ago, it's just been a bit of a journey to get there. I'm going to leave a short chapter here because I don't have much time these days to write and update. That might be the plan from here on out to have short chapters so you don't have to wait too long. I can't promise it though >.< Thank you for bearing with me all this time <3

"Hi, Yongguk. Are you busy?” Jiho asks trying not to sound nervous. There’s a pause, then an agitated voice answers, “Not right now. What do you want?”

Jiho swallows, finding it difficult to get the simplest words out, “Are you able to meet somewhere?” Again, he waits, pacing his apartment.

“As long as you keep it quick. Meet me at Coffee Chu in half an hour.” The phone goes silent and he removes it from his ear, feeling his heart beat just a tad faster and heads toward the door. A little over thirty minutes later, he stiffens as the seat across him is filled. It’s enough to pull a smirk on Yongguk’s face as he scoots closer to the table. “Didn’t mean to startle you,” the elder says. Jiho airily laughs and clasps his hands together only to pull them apart a second later then reattempt to press them together, ultimately deciding to rest uneasy fists over his knees. Yongguk softens at the other’s trepidation and offers words of comfort. “You can relax, I’m not going to bite.”

Jiho rubs sweating palms over his jeans and smiles, avoiding eye contact. “Would you like something to drink?” Yongguk inwardly scoffs, thinking of course, we’re at a coffee shop, but refrains from making an ill comment and tells him his order, watching the younger get up to retrieve their lattes. Jiho returns, warns of the heat and reseats himself. He clears his throat then takes the tiniest of sips. 

“I know we don’t exactly have the best relationship,” Jiho starts, taking a weak glance at Yongguk who seems a little less intimidating than he remembers. The elder is staring at his cup and Jiho seizes this as a chance to observe - a gleam of somber, eyes dark with circles bruising beneath, a pale layer covers his face and Jiho cannot recall any of it from all those times he was over at Jongup’s house with Daehyun. It baffles him to see such a difference that he almost forgets why he’s brought them here. “But I wanted to ask for your help.”

Yongguk pulls himself from the carefully poured latte art and lifts a brow. “My help with what?”

Jiho swallows a larger sip this time. “A month ago,” he starts off slow and hesitant, “On Daehyun’s birthday, you planned things out for him. I don’t know if you know this, but Daehyun disappeared that night. Jongup and I spent hours looking for him. We had a karaoke room rented and he never showed and Jongup had already checked his workplace. One of his coworkers said that a taxi was supposed to take him somewhere and when he went outside he saw the taxi was still there. He found out where it was going to take him and we tried going to Dongjak bridge, but he wasn’t there either so Jongup had an idea of where he might be because he followed him there once. It was this field. Way across toward the back there’s a hill-“

“At the top there’s a large tree with a curved trunk,” Yongguk finishes. Jiho his head puzzled. “How did you know that?”

“Because that was our spot,” Yongguk whispers just loud enough for the other hear. Daehyun remembers, Yongguk thinks. Daehyun went there that night. But why? Jiho interrupts his thoughts with a piece of paper being slid across the table. Yongguk glances over, recognizes the handwriting as his own and reads it to himself before glaring at Jiho. “How did you get this?”

“That night when we found Dae on that hill, he was crying and it looked like he’d been crying for a while. We took him home, but I saw this on the ground before we left and I don’t know why, but I kept it.”

Yongguk feels shame overcome the anger bubbling inside and he spits, “You had no right to read this!” People around the cafe are now staring and Jiho waves them off with a smile, turning back to Yongguk with pleading eyes. “Please don’t yell. I know I was wrong to take this and I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do. After that night, I realized exactly where I stood in all of this and it was never where I wanted to be. I understood that Dae would never be mine in that way because he still loves you.”

Yongguk’s ears perk and he adjusts in his seat as the younger continues, “So I tried to distance myself to make it easier. I thought that maybe I could get over him by staying away and avoiding him, but he wouldn’t give up. He just kept calling and texting and it was so hard to ignore, but i knew that he only wanted me there because it made it easier for him to not think about you. And who wants to be just the substitute, right?” Jiho smiles, embarrassed. 

Pity tugs at Yongguk and he sighs. “Don’t think of it like that. I saw the way you made Daehyun smile. You brought back something I took from him long ago. He deserves to be happy and that’s exactly what you did. I guess that’s why it bothered me so much. Because I thought I was being replaced and even though I know I don’t deserve him, it killed me to consider it true.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that because I finally agreed to meet with him one day and it didn’t turn out so great. I tried to contain myself and not be a little longing puppy, but I ended up hurting us both. He asked me to give him a chance and I told him that I couldn’t because it wouldn’t be real. He said that he realized he likes me more than just a friend and as much as I wanted to hear those words for so long, I knew he was just desperate,” Jiho says, turning away.

Their drinks have remained untouched and the pair find themselves digesting their thoughts. There’s a few minutes of silence until Yongguk speaks, voice unusually affable. “Jiho, I need you to do something for me.” And their eyes meet for the first time since they’ve sat down.

“Look, I apologize for being so…contentious before, but like I said I just couldn’t stand the thought of Daheyun being with someone else. I was wrong for being so selfish. I wish I could change everything, but I-“ Yongguk cuts short, wincing in pain as he clutches at his lower abdomen. Jiho leans over the table concerned. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He’s met with an outstretched hand demanding him to stay put, Yongguk closing his eyes with an exhale. 

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” is all the elder says and takes another breath.

“The you are. What was that?”

Yongguk shoots a look across the table. “It was nothing, just pulled a muscle.”

Jiho’s unconvinced, but is in no position to make such accusations and remains silent. The conversation stays in awkward suspension. Jiho fidgets, drumming fingers on the tabletop. He doesn’t know what to do, yet he tries because he isn’t sure that he’ll be able to talk to Yongguk again. They’ve never been on good terms and he sure as hell has never seen this side of him before so he seizes the moment. “So, like I was saying, I wanted to ask for your help because Dae needs it. He’s grasping at straws trying to piece himself together and I didn’t know how bad it was until he tried to cling onto me. I didn’t see before just how broken he was.”

Yongguk keeps his eyes low, guilt dousing him. Jiho takes notice and apologizes, “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I don’t know what happened between you two. And I’m probably the last person you’d ever discuss that with so we’ll just leave it at that. I just want to help him, but I don’t know how.”

“Don’t push him away,” Yongguk responds softly and stands, reaching into his pocket. He pulls a few dollars out and places it on the table when something mistakenly falls to the floor. It rattles and Jiho bends to pick it up. He observes with confusion at the small medicine bottle as its snatched hastily, being slipped back into its owner’s pocket. Yongguk uneasily gauges Jiho’s reaction and before making his escape, he instructs, “Don’t distance yourself. Take care of Daehyun. He needs you.”

Once he’s out the door, Jiho rests his cheek against his propped arm and thinks of the medicine bottle Yongguk so badly wished to hide. “Oxycodone,” he says quietly to himself and pulling his phone out, types the word into a search engine, puzzled at what he finds. His scrolling ends when a text from Yongguk appears on the screen.

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