“You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

Myungsoo startles a little, glancing away from his reflection in the tiny mirror mounted on the far wall of his cabin. His bunkmate’s words are actually something he cares about, and he’s been listening to the conversation at least peripherally, so he says, “If I wasn’t listening then I wouldn’t know that you’re convinced, though I’d choose the word delusional, that Baekhyun from communications is secretly pilfering the requisitions list that came through last week.”

From his spot on the bed across the room, Jongdae’s eyes narrow. “Delusional?”

Myungsoo tries not to laugh at the almost adorable look of shock on Jongdae’s face. And he’s never been so appreciative to have a roommate before now. Myungsoo’s never been one who gets lonely easily, but with his heart so far away on one of Japan’s safest islands, it’s hard to sleep at night. Jongdae, who’s barely old enough to be a member of the crew, is a notorious insomniac, and he makes the nights bearable. He’s a good listener, even if he’s a better talker.

Eyes drifting back to his reflection, Myungsoo inspects his hair one last time. His shift starts in ten minutes and he wants to look his best at every possible moment. He’s up for a promotion next month, and with the recent availability of hairspray, he looks every bit the dutiful Korean serviceman he wants to be perceived as.

“How am I delusional?” Jongdae asks, tucking his feet up on his bunk. Myungsoo knows he’s not really upset because there’s the barest hint of a smile on his face that he’s trying to desperately hide from Myungsoo. Some days Myungsoo is convinced that Jongdae needs him as much as Myungsoo needs Jongdae. They’re pseudo brothers in a lot of way, Myungsoo filling the void of the entire family Jongdae’s lost. “That er has a DS.”

Straightening up, Myungsoo pulls down a little on his uniform and turns towards the door. “A what?”

Stiffly, Jongdae clarifies, “A Nintendo DS. In light of the zombie apocalypse we’re actually living through, that’s like finding the holy grail. If Baekhyun isn’t manipulating the system he’s got actual control over for a DS, then this is a world that is completely unfair by luck and chance, and I don’t want to live in it anymore.” For dramatic effect, he flops back fully on his bunk.

Myungsoo purses his lips for a second. “Jongdae, there are about four billion people who’d gladly live in a world where they couldn’t have a DS, if it meant they were living.” Myungsoo’s seen the latest population estimates. They’re probably down over half their population, and the loss is staggering to think about.

“Sorry,” Jongdae apologizes, turning on his side and propping his head up with his palm. “You’re right.” He’s quiet for a minute, then says, “Hey, you’re really good friends with that officer, aren’t you?”

Lightening fast, Myungsoo says, “Don’t even think about it. Yunho is … more than just a friend. He’s nearly family at this point. And he was there for me when I was sinking into a horrible depression. He sat with me, talked to me, made me feel better, and even did a few favors for me. Don’t ever let his name come out of your mouth if it’s for any kind of selfish reason.”

Yunho is kind of like Myungsoo’s saving grace. He’s really taken Myungsoo under his wing, and over the past six months they’ve been developing a bond unlike anything Myungsoo has ever experienced before. They understand each other. They’re honest with each other. And sometimes they just sit with each other in silence, drinking coffee, and know that they both love people who are far away but hopefully safe.

They’ve also worked out a system of sorts. Yunho’s the admiral’s golden boy in a lot of ways, which means he gets to go see Sunggyu every few months. Yunho always offers to take Myungsoo’s letters to Sungyeol then. And with the internet up and running finally, albeit very, very slowly, Myungsoo forwards new of Sunggyu and the others to Yunho whenever the e-mails come through. Once in a while there’ll be enough bandwidth for a picture, and he loves the look on Yunho’s face when he’s able to share them.

Lots of people talk about the future. Plenty of them say that eventually things will go back to normal, and things won’t always be so bad. Yunho is the only one who Myungsoo believes when he says so. Yunho isn’t a liar, and he isn’t one to say things he doesn’t believe in.

So Myungsoo pictures a future where he and Sungyeol get to be together, and raise Jiyeon. He pictures the home they’ll have, how they’ll wake up in the morning and make breakfast together, then eventually have to watch videos on Youtube about how to French braid Jiyeon’s hair before school.

It’s maybe a fantasy, something cooked up by Myungsoo’s brain to keep him sane, but it’s a nice picture in his mind to look forward to. And there’s always a chance for it now that he’s submitted his paperwork for transfer.

Yunho’s warned him not to get his hopes up. He says he’s seen the request stack himself, filled to the brim with other soldiers wanting new placement. Yunho doesn’t think Myungsoo’s paperwork for transfer to where Sungyeol is will happen for years more, but Myungsoo plans to keep trying. Every review period he’ll submit his request, and he’ll do an outstanding job in the meanwhile, hoping to shine and be promoted and prove himself as a solider worth noticing. And since Sungyeol promises to be patient and faithful, Myungsoo can do no less.

With a sigh, Myungsoo says, “I have to go. I’ll be late.”

Barely paying attention to Jongdae, Myungsoo reaches his fingers to his lips and kisses them faintly. Then he presses two digits to the picture of Sungyeol and Jiyeon taped to the mirror.

He aches so badly to see them.

“Man, I always forget what a cute kid you have,” Jongdae says behind him.

Myungsoo’s always been a bit … careful with how much he gives away about Sungyeol and Jiyeon. Jongdae knows he and Sungyeol are married, which technically makes Jiyeon his baby too, considering Sungyeol plans to raise her as his own until she’s old enough to comprehend otherwise. He doesn’t know why he’s so careful with them, and with how much other people know about them. Maybe it’s because Sungyeol and Jiyeon are so new to him he desperately wants to protect them even against things like words. Maybe it’s something else. All he knows is if Jongdae wants to think that Jiyeon is his daughter, it’s something Myungsoo can live with.

“She’s beautiful,” Myungsoo agrees, wondering how much bigger she is now. She must be tottering around at full speed, getting into everything and talking up a storm. Sungyeol’s made mention of baby safe locks on the cabinets.

As Myungsoo opens the door to their cabin, Jongdae calls after him, “Want to get a late dinner tonight?”

Myungsoo cracks him a smile and says back, “Absolutely. Twenty-one hundred hours?”

The last thing Myungsoo sees is Jongdae flashing him a thumbs up.

The day goes by absolutely normally. Myungsoo expertly handles all of his paperwork, acts respectfully to his superiors, and finishes his workload efficiently by the end of the day.

Dinner with Jongdae and a couple more of their friends is exceptionally normal as well, and so goes the rest of Myungsoo’s week. Of course there’s a short e-mail from Sungyeol on Friday, and on Saturday Myungsoo sits down to compose a written letter that’s more of a tradition now than anything else. But Myungsoo’s not expecting anything but routine.

So when he comes back to his bunk days later to find it empty, sans a white envelope near the door, it’s completely bewildering.

He sets his jacket on the bed, toes off his shoes and shucks a thumb under one flap of the envelop, frowning at the designation on the front of it.

He knows what it is seconds later. It’s his rejection letter.

“It’s not that I think I’m special or deserve preferential treatment of any kind,” Myungsoo says to Yunho the next time they’re having a late night coffee drink together. He thinks about the rejection letter stuffed under his pillow, keeping him awake at night as he thinks of how many more months it’ll be before he can tell Sungyeol he’s tried again for a transfer. Five more at least.

“You just really wanted the transfer,” Yunho eases out. He gives Myungsoo a small, kind smile. “I know.”

Myungsoo’s shoulders fall. “I get it too, you know. Why should one lowly cadet be more important than the officers on this ship? Or even any other cadet? Why should I get to go off somewhere completely safe while my fellow soldiers continue to place themselves in danger for the betterment of our nation?” He’s always told himself not to be selfish, not to be greedy, and not to be arrogant. How much he loves Sungyeol and wants to be with him makes Myungsoo feel like he could be selfish, but he can’t let himself. He has to be a good man for Sungyeol.

Yunho’s head a little and he says, “But you don’t want to go somewhere safe because you’re a coward, Myungsoo. You want to go because you’re in love.”

Snorting, Myungsoo tries to reply respectfully, “Plenty of people are separated from people they love. You don’t get to be with Sunggyu.”

He always feels a little awkward brining up Yunho’s brother. Yunho is his friend, but still his superior. Not to mention Sunggyu’s essentially on life support. Sungyeol’s always been blunt in telling Myungsoo that Sunggyu’s brain activity is quite low, and he isn’t expected to make any kind of recovery. It’s Yunho’s position on the ship that keeps Sunggyu safe and cared for, but it’s just a waiting game until the end comes to pass.

But for all the futility of the situation with Sunggyu, Myungsoo has never heard of a more honorable man than Woohyun.

“It’s different with Sunggyu,” Yunho says, and his words are so bluntly placed that Myungsoo knows he’s not wrong in broaching the subject. “He’s … not conscious. He’s not aware of anything around him. I go and see him because love him, because he’s my brother, and because I would give anything in the world for him. But I don’t go see him so he’ll be able to hug me, tell me about his day, or even see me. If you went to where your husband is, you’d be able to have all those things and more.”

Myungsoo cuts back, “I still don’t believe I deserve to see Sungyeol any more than you deserve to see Sunggyu.” He takes a slip of his coffee and evens out his emotions. “It’ll happen. The time will come. Sungyeol and I have a future. We’ll see each other and be together eventually. I just don’t want it to be by the time Jiyeon is going off to high school. Or god forbid something happens to them on that island.”

“I have nightmares about it,” Yunho confides. “Even though Woohyun’s proven himself as a man, and I fully trust him with Sunggyu, I worry. I don’t sleep well because of the worry. I have nightmares. They’re safer now than they’ve ever been, and I worry more than before.” Yunho’s eyes drift closed. “But at least I take solace that Sunggyu has Woohyun. Sungyeol doesn’t have you. That’s not fair, and that’s not right.”

Downing the last of his coffee, Myungso tries to be optimistic, “I can reapply for transfer in five months. By then I’ll probably have my promotion, and I won’t have any bad marks on my record, and I’m even looking for additional responsibilities to take on. I want the review board to see me and my worth and know that if they put me on that island with Sungyeol I can be a good representation of the South Korean military. I can contribute. I can be whatever they need me to be there, maybe even a liaison of some kind.”

Yunho taps a finger on the tabletop. “The Korean Consul in Japan survived. Did you know that?”

Myungsoo shakes his head. “I know that some members of the military and government got word a few hours before everything collapsed and were able to evacuate, but I didn’t know that.”

Yunho’s finger stills. “He was evacuated with his family and a good deal of other high ranked Japanese and Korean government officals just before mainland Japan imploded.”

Jokingly, and with a soft laugh, Myungsoo poses, “So you’re saying I should write to him? Ask him to put in a good word for me?”

“Might not hurt,” Yunho shrugs.

It’s something Myungsoo gives significant thought to. But then he gets sidetracked by work, and it’s not that he even knows where the consul is. Plus, who knows if his superiors will appreciate him trying to go over their heads. Maybe it’s best to just leave the matter alone for the moment.

He sticks to e-mails and letters and pretends it’s enough, even though it isn’t because every day that passes he’s falling more in love with Sungyeol and the distance is killing him.

It’s just into the new year, the date Myungsoo only knows because of Sungyeol’s last e-mail in which he talked about his plans for the month with his friends, when Jongdae comes into their bunk area with a white envelope in his hands.

“Mail,” Jongdae says, tossing the letter to Myungsoo who’s been lounging on his bunk for an hour, deep into a book that Yunho’s lent him. Myungsoo feels like it’s some kind of inside joke, the book, and Yunho’s just not letting him in about what it is. Maybe he’ll tell after he finishes the book.

Myungsoo perks immediately. “From Sungyeol?”

Sungyeol almost always writes via e-mail. It’s faster and easier, and getting paper mail is a pain in the . But twice now Sungyeol’s written physical letters to him, each of which Myungsoo’s nearly worn thin with his handling of. But if it is a letter from Sungyeol, it’s unexpected. Myungsoo’s only just sent off his own, and it should be weeks before it gets to Sungyeol, let alone before there’s a chance for a response.

“I doubt it,” Jongdae says, bending to unlace his boots. “Unless that husband of yours is suddenly writing to you from this ship.”

Myungsoo sits up and looks the letter over suspiciously. He can’t think of any reason why he’d been getting anything from within the confines of the ships. “Maybe it’s about the promotion I’m up for,” Myungsoo theorizes, but he’s not supposed to get word on it for another month or so.

“Gotten into any trouble lately?” Jongdae asks. “Maybe it’s from the disciplinary board.”

“Doubtful,” Myungsoo says. He’s been accused in the past of being exceedingly boring because of how likely he is to follow the rules. And he’s certainly not going to do anything to risk the review of his transfer in a few months.

“Then what is it?” Jongdae asks.

Myungsoo retrieves the paper from within and unfolds it. His eyes quickly take in the words printed at the top of it.

“I …” his voice cuts out and his mouth goes dry.

“Myungsoo?” Jongdae asks in a worried expression. “What’s wrong?”

There are tears in his eyes, actual tears, and the words go blurry on the page and Myungsoo says, “I got my transfer.”

Jongdae stills. “I thought they denied you. Didn’t they deny you?”

His hands are shaking and his chest is tight, but when he looks back to the paper the words haven’t changed. “They did. I swear they denied my request for a transfer. But this says they’ve reevaluated the request.” Blinking through his tears he scans the letter. “The … oh god, the Korean Consul is currently stationed on Oshima. That’s where Sungyeol is. And he’s got a position on his staff open, a security position. They’re giving it to me, if I want it.”

Eyes wide, Jongdae asks, “How the hell did you manage that?”

“I didn’t,” Myungsoo says breathlessly.

But he knows who did.

“I’m forever in your debt,” Myungsoo says to Yunho when they next see each other, bowing low at the waist. The reality hasn’t really set in yet, even though he’s already told Sungyeol he’s coming, and his transportation has been worked out days ago. He still can’t believe it’s real. “I don’t know how you pulled this off, but sir, thank you so much. Thank you, thank you.”

Yunho rolls his eyes and pats him on the shoulder. “What’s the point of having the admiral’s ear if I can’t get things done.”

Timidly, Myugnsoo says, “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

Yunho invites Myungsoo into his cabin so they can talk freely, and relays, “It’s not as if I had the position on the consul’s staff produced out of thin air. There is an actual opening, it is a security position, and all I did was recommend you for it. The consul happens to know the admiral, and the admiral is willing to do whatever it takes to keep me happy and doing my job to the best of my ability.”

“Yunho,” Myungsoo quakes out.

“I don’t ask for favors from the admiral often,” Yunho continues. “I don’t ask for anything, really, except for the continued quality care for Sunggyu. But look at this from my point of view, will you. I know you care for Sungyeol, and Sungyeol and Sunggyu are good friends. Even if Sunggyu never wakes up, I don’t need him to physically tell me that he’d want this for Sungyeol. And the consul does need that position on his staff filled. It’ll be a long time before he’s able to come back to Korea, and his job is increasingly important. He’s helping keep Japan and Korea friendly, and we all benefit from that. So you’ll keep the consul safe, he’ll keep Japan and Korea allies, and in return Sunggyu will be well cared for in a protected area.”

Myungsoo has to say, “I can’t be the best man for the job. I’m not trained for a security position.”

Yunho doesn’t look phased. “I did actually look over your file, Myungsoo, before making the recommendation. You placed at the top of your class in weapons training and physical combat when you were in basic training. Just because you don’t exercise those skills on this ship, doesn’t mean they fade. You’re fit for the position. Though if you’d rather wait and hope that the review board approves your transfer in a few years, we can do that. Or you can be thankful, understand that this is what friends do for each other, and promise me that if Sunggyu ever wakes up, you’ll do what you can to help him live as much as a normal life as possible.”

Myungsoo bows again, then swears on his life that he’ll be there for Sunggyu, regardless if he wakes or not.

His departure from the ship is without fanfare. Jongdae shakes his hand and wishes him luck, and Yunho hugs him for the first time, asking him to say hello to Woohyun and Sunggyu for him, and to write often.

“Woohyun says you’re terrible with e-mail,” Myungsoo teases, something sad in him to be saying goodbye to his best friend on the ship. He won’t see Yunho again until the man comes to see Sunggyu at the end of the year. “But I’ll write to you every week anyway.”

There’s a helicopter behind them kicking up so much wind that Myungsoo had to strain to hear Yunho defend, “Woohyun writes me greasy e-mails about Sunggyu. I know Woohyun loves him, but there are some things a big brother doesn’t want or need to know about. You’ll understand when Jiyeon is old enough to date.”

Yunho hugs him one last time and then Myungsoo climbs into the helicopter that’ll take him to the nearest airport.

He has to change planes twice before he arrives on Oshima at three in the morning, tired and weary and fully expecting to have to fight to get a hotel room at the hour. He’s got some money, relieved to find that Oshima’s managed to preserve its monetary system, and all he wants is a soft bed and a hot shower. He’ll see Sungyeol soon enough, but he knows he smells, he knows he looks like crap, and … and …

And then he sees Sungyeol.

Sungyeol, who’s wrapped in a heavy coat, just beyond the perimeter fence that civilians are not permitted past, is standing and waiting. Myungsoo can see him shaking from a distance, hair all pushed up by the wind, looking tiny despite his height but so goddamn beautiful Myungsoo may cry again.

Sungyeol sees him. “Myungsoo!”

Myungsoo’s got one bag of clothing and small items, everything he owns, but he drops the bag in a second and can’t care less about it. The only thing that matters is how fast he’s sprinting towards Sungyeol, barely registering the car idling behind him, a form in the driver’s seat.

They collide almost roughly, Myungsoo wrapping him up tightly in a hug that reeks of desperation, and it’s the best Myungsoo has felt in almost a year. He tucks Sungyeol against him, tears falling now, and shudders out, “Oh, Sungyeol. You’re here.”

“I’m here?” Sungyeol laughs weakly, clutching at Myungsoo’s jacket as he pulls back a little. “You’re here. I can’t believe you’re here.”

There are dozens of eyes on them maybe, but none of them matter as Myungsoo brings a calloused hand up to softly at the cold skin of Sungyeol’s cheek. This is Sungyeol. This is his husband.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Myungsoo says, made breathless by how handsome Sungyeol is. He’s never forgotten it, not for a second. But it’s different to be able to look upon his face now, feel his warmth, and finally perceive his heart as being back where it belongs.

“I …” Sungyeol takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

This is, Myungsoo realizes, the first time Sungyeol’s said these words to him. They always write about how much they care about each other, and they both say openly how much they love Jiyeon, but Sungyeol’s never said as much to Myungsoo. He’s never said the words.

Myungsoo, in his defense, means to say the words back. He means to say the words that have been building in his chest since he sent the first letter off almost a year ago. He means to tell Sungyeol that he’s desperately in love with him, that Sungyeol is like the sun to him, bright and warm and lovely, and that there isn’t anything he won’t do for Sungyeol if Sungyeol will only stay with him forever.

Instead he merely leans in, uses the pads of his fingers to tilt Sungyeol’s head, and then finally kisses him.

They kissed on the day they were married, but this is different. That was a kiss of necessity and potential. This is a kiss of sweetness and promises, the kind of kiss that two people who love each other share, made up of longing and intimacy.

And if Myungsoo has any kind of reservations about how Sungyeol may feel about him, they’re destroyed the second Sungyeol reaches an arm up around the back of Myungsoo’s neck, puling him closer so the kiss can deepen.

A honk startles Myungsoo, reminding him they’re not alone and this isn’t the best place for making out.

“I will end you Dongwoo!” Sungyeol snaps, turning towards the car.

Finally Myungsoo recognizes Dongwoo’s presence, the teen out of the car now and hanging a bit off the window. “Look, nice to see you Myungsoo, and hey Sungyeol, I know you two are married and want to have your moment or whatever, but it’s three in the morning, five degrees out here, and can we just go home now?”

Home. It settles on Myungsoo that this is his home now. With Sungyeol.

“Sorry,” Sungyeol says, eyes crinkling adorably as he says, “Woohyun’s at the hospital, and Hoya had to stay with Sungjong and Jiyeon at the house. I needed Dongwoo to drive me. I don’t have my license, and I’m honestly not sure how to get one now.”

Myungsoo places a protective arm around Sungyeol, as if the simple motion can protect the person he loves from the harshly whipping wind.

“I’m just glad to be here,” Myungsoo says, and he can’t help pressing a faint kiss to Sungyeol’s hairline.

After retrieving his bag Myungsoo piles into the back to the car with Sungyeol and heads towards the lights of the city in the distance.

The house that Sungyeol shares with the others is fairly large, beautiful even at night, and in a quiet little neighborhood that doesn’t look for a second like the world has gone to hell.

At a whisper, Sungyeol guides Myungsoo through the house, pointing out, “That’s Woohyun and Dongwoo’s room. Hoya and Sungjong shared the next one. And this is mine.”

Inside the room is a full sized bed, a decently decorated shelving unit, and a crib that houses as sleeping Jiyeon.

Myungsoo leans over the railing but doesn’t dare reach for her. There’s a soft ray of light emanating from the nightlight near the crib, and it’s just enough that Myungsoo can see the gentle curves of her features. Her hair is longer than ever, curling in her sleep, and she’s on her belly, one hand reaching out towards him that makes him want to meet her half way.

Sungyeol’s body presses up against his from behind and he says, “Don’t wake her, okay? She’ll be up in a few hours anyway.”

Myungsoo turns away from Jiyeon to take Sungyeol in his arms ,and he says pointedly, “I feel so stupid. You told me you loved me earlier, and I never said it back. But it do. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Sungyeol smiles at him and leans in for a gentle kiss. “I could tell from the way you kissed me.”

Myungsoo loses track of his bag and most of his clothing, ending up with Sungyeol on the bed with the warmth of the house’s heater settling around them.

“I want you to know,” Myungsoo says immediately, feeling his bare skin against Sungyeol’s, “that just because were married, doesn’t mean you are obligated to do anything with me that you don’t want to.” Myungsoo knows exactly how old Sungyeol is, and Myungsoo is no predator. The world is changing all around them, and Myungsoo doesn’t doubt that Sungyeol is old enough to know exactly what he wants, but Myungsoo wants to be exceptionally clear. There are no obligations between them, especially of the ual nature.

Sungyeol, his head on Myungsoo’s chest, his ear so near Myungsoo’s heart he must hear the beat, says, “You don’t have to be so chivalrous.”

Myungsoo replies, “And you don’t ever have to feel like you have to do something if you don’t want to.”

“I’m a hormonal bag of emotions right now,” Sungyeol cuts back. “Trust me, there is no problem in the want department.”

“And I’m significantly older than you,” Myungsoo eases out. He’s had relationships before. He’s had before. And as much as he wants to be intimate with Sungyeol in a ual way, he also wants Sungyeol to be ready, and for the timing to be right. He only wants as much as Sungyeol wants to give.

Sungyeol lifts himself up to one elbow so he’s almost leaning over Myungsoo. “I think you should know that if my sister weren’t in the room right now, I’d get between your legs and I’d take you in my mouth and--”

Myungsoo sits up too. “We don’t have to rush this.”

Making a frustrated sound, but keeping his voice low, Sungyeol says with a tone that reeks of honesty, “When we got married I was not in love with you. I liked you. You were kind of dorky and weird, but you were sweet, too. You were kind. You cared and you made an effort. But I didn’t love you then. I just did whatever it took to keep my sister safe. And you saved our lives. I don’t know if you realize that. If Jiyeon and I had ended up in the general population of that island, we would have died with everyone else when the place was overrun. We only survived because of Sunggyu and because of Kenji, and because of where we were at the time.”

Myungsoo confesses, “I didn’t love you when I married you either, but I had a feeling I would.”

“I loved you,” Sungyeol says, clearing his throat, “when you wrote to me. When you told me about yourself, let me get to know you, and even when the letters were just full of thoughts and feelings and mundane things happening around the ship. I fell in love with you when I knew you cared about which daycare Jiyeon was going to, and what I’ve been doing to pass the time here. I was not in love with you before then, but over this past year, I have fallen in love with you. That’s what I’m telling you. We may not have gotten to physically be together before this, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know who you are, or what kind of man you are. And I’m in love with you. So anything I want to do with you, ually, is because I want to do it, because I’m in love with you.”

“Sungyeol,” Myungsoo chokes out.

Sungyeol continues, “Now, if you don’t want to, or if you have a problem with my age, then we won’t have . Because I respect you as much as I love you, and we both have to be ready for it if it happens. But we’re not going to not have because you think I feel like I have to. I want to have with the person I love, and I don’t care if I’m young, or you’re older, or if it’s because we haven’t been in the same room for over a year now. Understand?”

Myungsoo lays back down slowly, feeling almost overwhelmed. But the feeling passes when Sungyeol settles back down against him, tucking in tighter than before.

“For the record,” Myungsoo said quietly, “I do want to have with you. With my husband. With the man I love.”

He feels Sungyeol grin against his skin. “That’s good to know. I want to have with you, too.”

“Without your sister in the room,” Myungsoo clarifies.

“Without anyone else in the house,” Sungyeol adds.

Myungsoo pushes his fingers up into Sungyeol’s hair and hooks a leg between his husband’s. “We’ll work it out.”

Sungyeol mumbles a reply sleepily, something Myungsoo can’t quite hear, and then he’s out.

All they do that night is sleep. For Myungsoo, it’s the best sleep of his life.

There’s very little adjustment on Myungsoo’s part to his new life. He finds it impossibly easy to learn where his place is. He’s got no skills in the kitchen, so his morning is dedicated to Jiyeon. He plays with her, dresses her, and then helps feed her. She takes to him as if there’s never been any time or distance between them, and the smile that Sungyeol gives him is worth a million times the suffering he’s endured.

He isn’t due to report for his new job for at least another day, so Myungsoo goes with Hoya to drop Sungjong off at school, then doubles back to help Sungyeol take Jiyeon to her nursery.

Myungsoo and Dongwoo go to see Woohyun at the hospital in the afternoon, and it feels to Myungsoo like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

“Yunho said that Sunggyu isn’t expected to make a recovery,” Myungsoo says quietly when he’s in Sunggyu’s private room. Woohyun is changing into a clean set of clothing unabashedly. Myungsoo doesn’t understand any of the machines Yunho’s younger brother is hooked up to, but he knows without them Sunggyu will die. At least there’s some peace to Sunggyu, who almost looks as if he’s merely sleeping.

“He doesn’t have a lot of brain activity,” Woohyun says, voice tense but not pessimistic. “But as long as there’s some, there’s hope. And you haven’ exactly spent the same amount of time around Sunggyu as I have, Myungsoo. No offense. Sunggyu is a determined guy. He’s not one to take anything lying down for very long. He’s … something else. Yunho thinks it’s kind of stupid that I’m holding out hope, but I love Sunggyu too much to believe anything other than one day he’s going to wake up.”

Myungsoo swallows past the lump in his throat. “Yunho doesn’t think it’s stupid. He and I had a lot of time to talk, actually. He admires you, Woohyun. And what you’re doing for his brother, and how selflessly you’re caring for him and loving him, that’s not something Yunho can’t vocalize, but it means everything to him.”

Woohyun finishes changing and trots back to Sunggyu’s bed, hopping up on one side and back the hair on his forehead. “He wasn’t happy when I had to talk him into letting Sunggyu fight.”

“He just doesn’t want to see his brother spend the next thirty years as a vegetable.”

Woohyun smiles big and so brightly Myungsoo almost smiles back. “I’ll settle for a I told you so when Sunggyu is awake. Even if it takes a long time to get to that point, it’ll be worth it. Sunggyu’s worth it.”

Myungsoo’s admiration for Woohyun only grows.

That night Myungsoo has dinner with everyone, save for Sunggyu, at a restaurant around the corner from the house. Hoya and Dongwoo want to know more about what’s going on with Yunho and the ship, while Sungjong asks about any adventures he’s had. Sungyeol holds Myungsoo’s hand under the table, and Woohyun offers to drive Myungsoo deeper into town the following morning for his first day at work.

They accept him, he realizes. No questions asked, they accept him into their group as if he’s one of their own, a friend, maybe a family member, and certainly not an outsider. They look to him, ask his opinion on things, care about what he has to say, and see him as an equal.

He can’t help sharing this with Sungyeol when they go to bed, so amazed by something that he hasn’t expected to come so easily.

“I know,” Sungyeol says easily, pulling his shirt over his head and laughing, “I pick the best friends ever. I’m just sort of amazing like that.”

It’s just, Myungsoo has expected that he’ll have to earn their friendship. They must barely remember him from the ship, and while they were never rude to him, Myungsoo’s always felt as if they were obligated to be with him before. Things are different now. Is it just because he’s married to Sungyeol? Because they love each other?

Myungsoo crawls onto the bed and sits back against the headboard.

“I just didn’t think it would be this easy.” Maybe he’s just gotten too used to having to fight for things to go his way.

Against the far wall in the crib Myungsoo can see Jiyeon sleeping comfortably. It’s not his place to say anything, at least just yet, to Sungyeol about how nice it would be if she had her own room. But he’s certainly looking forward to the day that Jiyeon’s crib is not in their room, and maybe the day that they don’t need to be conscientious of the other people they share a wall with.

“What’re you thinking about?” Sungyeol asks. He climbs onto the bed easily, and then more than that settles himself onto Myungsoo’s lap. He puts his hands on Myungsoo’s shoulders and nuzzles him with his nose or a half second before stealing a kiss.

“How much I love you,” Myungsoo says definitively, because it’s always sort of what he’s thinking about. He puts his hands on Sungyeol’s hips, thumbs rubbing over the soft skin there, pressing down a bit more to feel the jut of bone. He’ll get more food into Sungyeol soon enough. He can stand to gain a few pounds, now that there appears to be enough food to go around.

“I love you too,” Sungyeol says back right away, without pause. “And do you know what I love even more?”

Myungsoo shakes his head.

“You’ll be home by five tomorrow, right?”

“Maybe earlier,” Myungsoo reasons. It’ll be his first day, which means paperwork, more paperwork, and then paperwork. And there’ll also be basic field tests.

Sungyeol’s soft lips catch Myungsoo’s pleasingly. “Woohyun’ll be with Sunggyu all day tomorrow. Hoya and Dongwoo are going to some function at Sungjong’s school, and they’re going to take Jiyeon with them, picking her up from her nursery school in the afternoon. That means it’ll just be me and you in the house.”

Myungsoo’s feeling impulsive, so he pushes forward, laying Sungyeol out on his back, crowding over him and pushing his fingers delicately to the pulse point on Sungyeol’s neck. “Really?” he asks, fighting a grin for a half second before he loses all self control and seals his mouth over Sungyeol’s.

Sungyeol’s hands push up along the skin of Myungsoo’s back and he makes an appreciative sound.

Myungsoo is never going to get tired of kissing Sungyeol.

“So,” Sungyeol manages between kisses. “You game tomorrow?”

Myungsoo looks down at Sungyeol and knows that this is the man he’s going to spend the rest of his life with. This is the man who has his heart, and who’s got Myungsoo’s wellbeing and future wrapped up in his own. They’re twined together like soul mates, and Myungsoo has never before looked at someone and seen his own wants and needs reflected back. It might be unsettling if it weren’t so astonishing.

“Soo?” Sunyeol asks, his hands stilling on Myungsoo’s back.

“I love you,” Myungsoo says, lowering himself more fully onto Sungyeol. “I love you so damn much.”

Sungyeol holds tightly to him and says back, “You okay? You’re shaking.”

Myungsoo can hear Jiyeon’s breathing. He picks up the sound of Hoya moving around in the next room, and the quiet music of Dongwoo’s radio further down the hall. But mostly he feels Sungyeol against him, warm and safe and alive.

“I’m good,” he promises, delivering one last kiss to Sungyeol’s lips for the night. “When I’m with you, I’m better than good.”