The sky is overcast when Myungsoo gets out of the car, the dull grey making the morning seem more like late afternoon. He’d chosen bright flowers on purpose, but against the leaden colours he’s surrounded by he’s starting to feel that the contrast is a little too sharp. Still, he cradles the bouquet close when he makes his way through the gate, fingers twisting around the ribbon tying the flowers together.

He’s had this planned for so long, mentally rehearsed it so many times that he thinks he should feel more prepared. But he’s anxious all over again now, like he’d just woken up that morning and decided to do this rather than having planned it down to the last detail over the past year or so.

Then again, he’s finally facing up to something he’s been running away from for what seems like forever. He supposes it makes sense that what he’s doing has this effect on him.

His steps get slower and slower as he gets closer to his destination, trudging along the path almost reluctantly, but he refuses to turn back now. It’s been long enough—he can face this. Taking a deep breath, he goes on walking, keeping his eyes on the flowers instead. They remind him that he’s here for a reason.

He’s not sure whether he’s more or less tense when he finally reaches his intended goal. It’s not really so bad now that he’s standing in front of Sunggyu’s home, except it’s also worse than he thought it would be at the same time. He doesn’t really know how to feel. “Sunggyu-hyung,” he says finally, the name almost unfamiliar on his tongue after so long. “Um… it’s Myungsoo.”

Silence.

Breathing in shakily, Myungsoo clutches tightly at the flowers, forcing himself to speak. “Hyung, I don’t know if—if you’re listening, or if you’ll ever hear this, but… I have something to tell you. It’s something I haven’t ever dared to say to you face-to-face, but I thought that it was time I told you and I… I thought maybe I could tell you like this. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

The words are hard to find, despite the amount of time he’s spent mulling over every single detail. But they’re not impossible, and that’s better than nothing. “I guess I should start at the beginning. From the day we met in the café, even though it’s been more than a year since then. Because…” He pauses, swallowing hard to gather himself, before he continues speaking.

“I think it was the moment when I first saw you that I started falling in love.”

 

-

It was Sungyeol who introduced him to the café. He hadn’t actually meant to go there, since Sungyeol’s recommendation had mostly consisted of him raving about the coffee and Myungsoo had never really had a taste for it. But when he found himself walking down the street at three a.m. looking around for somewhere—anywhere—that was open and saw the lit shop window, he figured it was a better option than going all the way into the city centre just for a drink.

He could hear the faint strains of a number on the piano even before he entered, which surprised him a little. It wasn’t quite what he’d expected from listening to Sungyeol’s description. The scuff of his shoes sounded unnaturally loud on the tiled floor when he stepped in, glancing around at the empty tables. The counter was unmanned; hesitating for a second, he looked back to make sure that the sign actually read ‘open’ and he hadn’t accidentally walked in through a door someone had forgotten to lock. But he was right after all, even though there didn’t seem to be anyone here.

Wondering if he should call out, he took a few steps forward—and that was all it took for the piano to come into view. It stood on a raised dais in the corner, hidden by the counter and wall from the entryway but easily visible from all the tables. Myungsoo was taken aback by the fact that there was even a piano here (this place was a café, not a high-class restaurant), but on second glance, all thoughts of that fell away when he saw the man in front of it.

He should have been clued in to the fact that it was a live pianist and not a recording from the moment he walked in, but as Sungjong liked to say, he was lacking somewhat in ‘musical sensibility’. That wasn’t a thought he could focus on, though, not when all his attention was taken up by the pianist and his melody.

Myungsoo didn’t need any sensibility to hear the beauty in every note, flowing seamlessly from one to the next; a gentle, warming harmony, one that he wanted to go on listening to forever. The pianist barely seemed aware of the world around him, eyes half-closed as he played, long fingers running over the keys. He was lost in the music—no, more than that. He was the music.

And Myungsoo was mesmerised.

He felt a pang of regret when he realised that the song was drawing to an end, the pianist taking a deep breath when he played the last notes. They were still lingering in the air when the man looked up, and Myungsoo met his gaze entirely by accident just as the man’s face turned stricken.

“Oh—I’m sorry,” he said, standing hurriedly from the piano. “Have you been here long? I’m so sorry, I should have noticed. Didn’t Dongwoo—” The man broke off, glancing towards the empty counter. Raking his hand through his hair with a loud sigh, the man stepped off the dais, walking towards Myungsoo. “Damn it. I forgot he had to leave early today. I’m really sorry.”

Myungsoo almost wanted to tell him not to apologise, but the words seemed lodged in his throat. He was still half-lost in the world of the melody, reeling from it. That probably explained why the first thing he said when his throat finally got unstuck was, “You’re really good.”

He regretted the awkward greeting almost as soon as it left his mouth, but the warm, if surprised smile he got in return made him feel a little bit better about it. “Thank you,” the man answered. “I’m not even supposed to play while I’m on shift, really, but… I can’t resist sometimes. I’m glad you don’t mind.” For the first time, Myungsoo realised the man was wearing a uniform complete with apron and nametag—Kim Sunggyu, it read. Now he had a name for him. “Would you like to sit down?”

Myungsoo nodded, letting Sunggyu lead him to a seat by the bar. He would say something, but somehow the words wouldn’t form themselves in his mind. He felt strangely nervous, his palms sweaty when he accepted the menu from Sunggyu. It was only when he was staring down the (ridiculously long) list of beverages, mostly coffee, that he remembered why he came here in the first place.

There was hot chocolate on the menu, but against his better judgment, he decided to go for some coffee instead. There had to be some reason why Sungyeol liked the coffee here so much. “Espresso?” he requested, only vaguely remembering what Sungyeol liked to order. Sunggyu seemed to understand him just fine, though, and while he was bustling around getting the coffee ready Myungsoo finally had a few minutes to himself to calm down.

Or so he thought, but he couldn’t stop looking at Sunggyu. Myungsoo found his eyes drawn to Sunggyu’s hands again, remembering how elegant they had looked against the piano keys. Maybe he felt this way because he’d rarely had the chance to listen to live players, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard anyone as good as Sunggyu. Something about his playing just drew Myungsoo in.

“Your espresso,” Sunggyu said, breaking Myungsoo out of his thoughts. Accepting the cup with a quick word of thanks, Myungsoo stared dubiously down at the dark liquid. As nice as it smelled, he didn’t think that boded well. Still… he’d ordered it, so he might as well give it a try. Slowly lifting the cup to his lips, he took a hesitant sip.

And regretted it almost instantly. Myungsoo grimaced at the bitter taste that immediately spread through his mouth, putting the cup down quickly. Damn it, he should have gone for chocolate after all, never mind the fact that Sungyeol all but worshipped the coffee here. He glanced up when he heard soft laughter, flushing when he saw Sunggyu’s amused look.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, and Myungsoo gave him a rueful smile.

“I guess you can tell. Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong with it—I’m just… well, you’re right. I don’t like coffee. It’s just that my friend’s always raving about it, so I decided to get a cup.” He stared into the cup, smoothing his thumb over the side. “I suppose I should have ordered chocolate instead.”

“I can get that for you,” Sunggyu offered, still smiling. “Hot?”

“That sounds good.” Myungsoo paused, a thought striking him. “Wait, I haven’t even paid you for the coffee yet.”

“They’re both on the house. Count it as an apology for making you wait.” Sunggyu was already starting on the chocolate, much to Myungsoo’s chagrin.

“I don’t need an apology,” he answered weakly. “I was serious. You’re… you’re really good.”

This time, Sunggyu’s sigh sounded a little wistful. “Not good enough to pay any bills, though. But thank you. I really appreciate it.” He paused briefly to grab something from the other end of the counter. “Honestly speaking, I really shouldn’t be playing while I’m on the clock. I’m just the barista. To this day I’m not entirely sure why the owner installed the stage and piano—I feel like all he achieved was getting me to slack off.”

Myungsoo laughed, ducking his head. “Maybe he wanted to listen to you play?” he suggested. He caught a flash of Sunggyu’s smile when he turned around, and for some reason he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Maybe.”

Myungsoo wasn’t sure why, but after that, it was much easier to talk to Sunggyu. Before long he was telling Sunggyu about his latest photography project over the (much more palatable) mug of hot chocolate, joking about how late he had to stay up to get the shots he wanted and the number of times he’d been stopped by disgruntled police officers for not-so-accidentally trespassing while trying to find good places to take his photos from. Then he listened to Sunggyu tell him about the album he was working on, how he hoped that he could actually get himself somewhere with it this time.

Myungsoo hoped so too.

He barely noticed the time passing, his first drink turning into a second—which he insisted on paying for—and then into a third. It was only when he looked up and noticed that the sky had lightened, faint light peeking at the horizon, that he realised how much time he’d spent in the café.

“I should probably get going,” he said regretfully. As much as he wanted to stay, he’d honestly meant to go on working on his portfolio that night. He’d already spent far too much time here. “Thank you for the drinks, and, um… for talking to me. I’m sorry I stayed for so long—”

“Oh, don’t say that. I enjoyed myself too,” Sunggyu answered, taking Myungsoo’s empty cup. “Nothing much usually happens during the night shift anyway, so it was nice having someone to talk to.”

“Well, if I hadn’t come in, you could have just gone on playing the piano.”

“Which I shouldn’t be doing,” Sunggyu pointed out, but he was still smiling. “Oh, by the way—want to get a fortune cookie? It’s half-price with your order.”

“Shouldn’t you have asked me earlier? Like when I ordered?” Myungsoo teased, if only to see Sunggyu frown exaggeratedly at him. But he didn’t see why he shouldn’t get one, really. “Alright, I’ll take one, just for you.”

“I shouldn’t have asked at all,” Sunggyu groused, but he plucked out a paper-wrapped cookie from the basket and handed it to Myungsoo anyway.

Thanking him with a laugh, Myungsoo pocketed the cookie as he left. On his way home, though, he ended up taking it out again, turning it over thoughtfully before unwrapping it. Popping one of the halves in his mouth, he carefully unfurled the slip of paper, reading the message printed in tiny text.

Your heart will lead you to a fateful meeting.

He half-laughed, not sure whether he was amused and embarrassed—the message was so silly and he knew it was nothing but a coincidence, but at the same time all he could think about was Sunggyu’s smile and crinkled eyes and his fingers gently running along the piano keys. Folding up the paper again, he stuck it into his pocket instead of tossing it into the bin like he usually would.

It probably wouldn’t hurt to keep it.

 

-

The memory of that first fortune cookie brings a faint smile to his face, though it also brings with it a lingering ache. This is the first time he’s ever said anything about them to Sunggyu. “You know, hyung… it’s stupid, but that fortune cookie was part of the reason why I went back. I mean, I really wanted to see you again, but at the same time the thought of doing that kind of scared me. I guess I was worried about whether or not you’d like me.

“I was afraid that maybe once you got to know me better you’d find me… boring, or annoying, or whatever.” He laughs nervously. “I couldn’t help wondering what someone like you would ever see in me. What were the odds that you would ever like me back, anyway? I sort of knew that it couldn’t possibly be worth the risk and I was just setting myself up to fail, which is why it scared me so much. But I couldn’t talk myself out of it anyway. I wasn’t smart enough to.”

He breathes in, slowly letting out a long sigh. “So I went back again. And once I started, I couldn’t stop.”

 

-

It wasn’t long before he found himself back at the café again, despite his doubts. It was at a similar time—his work had kept him up as usual—but this time he wasn’t just wandering aimlessly. Though he hadn’t been consciously heading towards the café, when he realised he was standing on the same street corner again it wasn’t really hard to figure out why his feet had brought him there.

Sighing at himself, Myungsoo gave in anyway, walking forward and pushing the door open. For some reason, he expected the counter to be empty, just like before; it took him by surprise when he was greeted with a bright welcome and looked up to see a different waiter by the counter.

“Um, hi?” His words ended up sounding more like an awkward question than a greeting, but in his defence he was trying to crane his neck around to see if Sunggyu was even here since he couldn’t hear the piano. “I’m just looking for, um, a drink.” Sort of. He couldn’t exactly admit he was looking for Sunggyu.

“Sure, no problem!” Myungsoo spared a second to sneak a glance at the waiter’s nametag—Dongwoo—and distantly recalled Sunggyu having mentioned him at some point in their last conversation. “Would you like to sit down or would you prefer it to-go? Let me get you the menu.”

The question flew over Myungsoo’s head, mostly because he’d finally caught sight of Sunggyu behind the bar—or more accurately, Sunggyu walking around from behind the bar and towards him. “I’ll take him, Dongwoo. We’ve met,” Sunggyu told him before turning to address Myungsoo. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Myungsoo averted his eyes, hoping that he wasn’t blushing. “Hello again, Myungsoo. Are you here for coffee again?” His voice was lightly teasing, and despite his embarrassment, Myungsoo couldn’t help laughing. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Dongwoo raising a brow at Sunggyu’s informality, and Myungsoo hoped he wouldn’t mind—he’d talked Sunggyu into it during their first conversation. He just couldn’t get used to continually being called ‘Myungsoo-sshi’. And the fact that Sunggyu had decided to let him call him ‘hyung’ in return was a nice plus, he had to admit.

“No, I’m not. But I would like a hot chocolate,” he answered. “I’ll have it here, please.”

“No problem. Have a seat.” Sunggyu vaguely indicated the tables, but once again, Myungsoo just followed him to the bar and sat down there. Propping his elbows on the counter, he linked his hands and rested his chin on them, watching Sunggyu work.

“You’re not playing the piano today?” he asked after a moment, hoping Sunggyu wouldn’t mind the interruption. He didn’t seem to, answering easily enough while he worked.

“No. Dongwoo doesn’t mind if I do, but like I said I really shouldn’t be doing that. You know why—just think about what happened last time. It was worse because Dongwoo wasn’t here to cover for me, but since then I’ve tried to stop myself from indulging too much. I can’t focus on anything else when I’m playing and I should really be putting the customers first.”

It made sense, but Myungsoo had to admit he was a little disappointed. Part of the reason he was here was because he’d hoped he would get to listen to Sunggyu play again. Murmuring his thanks when Sunggyu gave him his drink, he sipped at it thoughtfully. Putting the customers first, huh?

“Hyung?” he asked, and Sunggyu looked at him questioningly. “Would you play if a customer asked you to?”

Sunggyu looked momentarily taken aback, but then comprehension dawned on his face. Smiling slowly, he said, “Well, yes. I would.”

“In that case,” Myungsoo continued, smiling hesitantly, “would you play for me?”

When he saw the way Sunggyu’s face lit up, he knew he’d made the right choice deciding to come here after all.

Once again, he only managed to bring himself to leave when dawn was breaking. He bought a fortune cookie without being prompted to this time, though he gave Sunggyu an amused look. He broke it open right there across the counter from Sunggyu, instead of only doing it on the way home.

He sort of wished he’d waited when he saw the message, well aware that he was probably blushing like an idiot now. Cultivate your love and it will continue to grow. He should be laughing because it was really stupid, except Sunggyu was still looking at him and for some reason that just made him feel nervous.

“So what does it say?” Sunggyu asked curiously, and Myungsoo let out a vaguely uncomfortable laugh.

“Just typical fortune cookie stuff. Nothing much.”

But he kept the message anyway, leaving it right next to the first one. And next week he was back at the café again, listening to Sunggyu play the piano.

 

-

Myungsoo can still vividly recall all the songs that Sunggyu played for him. If he concentrates, he can almost exactly reimagine how Sunggyu looked while he was playing, down to the tiniest details: the way the light glinted off his nametag, the crinkle in his nose when he hit a note wrong (Myungsoo often hadn’t been able to tell otherwise), the absolute focus and rapture in his eyes. The memories send a wave of nostalgia roiling through him. “I always loved watching you play,” he says quietly. “You were amazing. You must have known after a while that I was coming to the café just for that, right? I mean, you made really great hot chocolate, but you played piano—and sang—better than you ever made drinks. Never mind whatever Sungyeol liked to say about your coffee.”

He laughs, and the sound is weak and a little hollow. “That day when I visited in July… I almost wanted to confess. I knew that I was stupid and that more likely than not you didn’t think of me as anything more than a friend, but I thought that maybe it was worth a try.”

He chews on his lip, dropping his gaze to the ground. “But then I didn’t. I guess you know why, though. After all, that was the day you introduced me to Woohyun.”

 

-

It was unusual for Myungsoo’s schedule, but for once he was actually in the café while Sunggyu was on a daytime shift. Sunggyu was much busier then, since there were actual customers in the shop other than Myungsoo for a change. He couldn’t spare the time to play the piano, but Myungsoo didn’t mind. He simply sipped at his drink slowly, waiting for the lunchtime rush to taper off while he watched Sunggyu at work.

He’d been thinking about it for a while—how he felt about Sunggyu, the happiness he felt when he got to listen to him play or even just spoke to him and how easy it was to think about him for hours. Myungsoo knew that he couldn’t just go on ignoring it. He’d already acknowledged it in his own heart, though that had taken him long enough. He knew that he was in love with Sunggyu.

All that was left, really, was to tell him.

Sunggyu only got a moment to talk to him towards the end of the hour, still looking somewhat frazzled. “Hey. Sorry, have you been waiting? Do you need another drink?”

“It’s fine, I’m only halfway through,” Myungsoo assured him. “So you’re always this busy during the day, huh?”

“Pretty much. Nothing like the graveyard shift, as you can tell. Then again, considering this is the first time I’ve seen you awake during the day, I guess you wouldn’t know.” Sunggyu smirked at him. Myungsoo pretended to look affronted, but from Sunggyu’s grin he hadn’t succeeded in the least.

Sunggyu glanced up when he heard the bells at the entrance chime, and Myungsoo blinked at the pleased surprise on his face, following his gaze. A young man had just entered, evidently familiar with the place from the way he greeted Dongwoo carelessly as he made his way towards the bar. Looking back to Sunggyu, Myungsoo noticed he’d schooled his expression into something completely neutral again, but there was a tell-tale spark still visible in his eyes.

The stranger slid into the seat just one over from his, smiling brightly at Sunggyu. “Hi, Gyu-hyung. Still busy, or do you have a moment?”

“Are you going to order something?” Sunggyu retorted, and the man simply grinned in reply. “I’ll take that as a no. And yes, I’m busy.”

“Too busy for me?” the man asked sorrowfully, and despite the way Sunggyu rolled his eyes, Myungsoo could tell he was fighting not to smile.

“Yes, and you should be happy for that. Stop being such a baby.” Sunggyu turned back to Myungsoo. “Don’t mind him, Myungsoo. He won’t bother you.”

“Wait, what are you implying?” the man demanded. “Since when have I bothered a customer? I’m hurt, Gyu.”

“Quiet,” Sunggyu admonished, but apparently not to be deterred, the man continued speaking anyway.

“Is this really Myungsoo, though? So he’s the Myungsoo you’ve been talking about?” The stranger looked at him with interest, but Myungsoo had to admit he wasn’t paying any attention—the thought that Sunggyu had apparently talked about him (possibly more than once?) was enough to make him nervous all over again. He wondered what Sunggyu had said. “Don’t be mean, Gyu, introduce us. I have to meet him.”

“You’ll scare him off.” In spite of Sunggyu’s griping, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face this time. “Myungsoo, this is Woohyun. I know he doesn’t look it, but he’s the owner of this place—”

“I’m the son of the owner,” the man—Woohyun—corrected, furrowing his brow at Sunggyu. “There’s a difference. If I was the owner, hyung, I’d be your boss.”

“You’re the idiot who refurbished the entire place to include a bar and a grand piano for no good reason and you basically run it, so I don’t see how that makes you not the owner. Anyway, those are just minor details,” Sunggyu said carelessly.

“Important details. And that’s not the only important detail you left out,” Woohyun added pointedly. “‘The owner’, really? Never mind the fact that you’re wrong, is that all I am to you?”

Sunggyu sighed, trying to look annoyed but failing miserably. “Oh, fine. I’ll say it again. Myungsoo, this is Woohyun, my boyfriend. Happy now, Woohyun?”

Myungsoo felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably at Sunggyu’s words, his entire body freezing up. He was distantly aware of Woohyun saying something and Sunggyu jabbing at him again in reply, saying something scathing that made him pout, but everything felt detached and unreal. In his mind, he could hear Sunggyu’s voice echoing, replaying his words over and over again: Woohyun, my boyfriend.

And then reality finally sank in with a sharp stab of pain.

“Oh,” he finally managed to say, suddenly wishing that he was anywhere else but here. He curled his fingers tightly around his cup, staring blankly into it. He should have known, really. Why had he even thought about confessing in the first place? Of course Sunggyu wasn’t single. He may not have mentioned a boyfriend, but he’d brought up the owner—the owner’s son, whatever—an awful lot. Myungsoo should probably have been tipped off, except he’d wanted so hard to believe that he still stood a chance that he’d just ignored the possibility entirely.

“Myungsoo-sshi?” Glancing up at the sound of his name, Myungsoo blinked in surprise when he saw Woohyun smiling warmly at him, only sheer instinct reminding him that it would be polite to smile back. “I’m sorry, I got carried away by Sunggyu here—” Sunggyu snorted, and Woohyun shushed him with a finger over his lips, “—and forgot to greet you properly.” He extended his hand to Myungsoo, who shook it numbly. He wasn’t really sure what else he should do. “Sunggyu’s said a lot about you. I heard you’re a photographer?”

Doing his best to keep his smile up from wavering, Myungsoo gave Woohyun all the appropriate polite small talk answers, not really aware of what he was saying. He couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to Sunggyu, unable to help noticing the way he was watching Woohyun. Sunggyu may have constantly insulted Woohyun while they interacted, but right now all Myungsoo could see was the open affection on his face, given away by the slight curve to his lips and the way his eyes had softened.

Myungsoo may have been blind up till this point, but now that his eyes had been opened it was unmistakeable. Sunggyu was in love with Woohyun—strongly, deeply, probably stupidly in love if Myungsoo had to judge from his face alone. He’d never seen Sunggyu quite so happy, and all Woohyun had done was be there. There was really no other way to interpret it.

It hurt more than Myungsoo wanted to admit.

The rest of the time passed in a blur. Woohyun, as loath as he was to admit, was genuinely nice—friendly, charming, and if Myungsoo had to be honest, miles more interesting than Myungsoo himself was. He could see why Sunggyu had fallen for him.

He didn’t want to accept it, but against Woohyun, the truth was he’d never stood a chance.

It seemed like forever before Myungsoo could finally find an opening where he could excuse himself, but when he finished his drink and Sunggyu asked him if he wanted a new one, he finally saw his opportunity to escape. “Sorry, I can’t stay,” he told them, not quite daring to look either of them in the eye. “I have some stuff to do. Work. Um, thank you for the drink.”

“No problem. Fortune cookie?” Sunggyu asked while he took away his cup, and Myungsoo almost started laughing hysterically at the reminder. He still had those goddamn fortune cookie messages from before—they were in a box beside his camera, and he took them out on occasion to read them again. Most of the ones he’d gotten since the first two were nonsensical, and yet even after he’d thrown those out, he’d somehow managed to build up a decent collection of overly optimistic slips of paper.

He should have known that keeping them was a bad idea.

“Myungsoo?” Sunggyu’s confused voice snapped him out of his gloomy thoughts, and he realised he’d mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘yeah, sure’ a little too late. Before he knew it Sunggyu had handed him his usual fortune cookie, and then, for some reason, another—Sunggyu went on saying something about their new buy-one-free-one deal that Myungsoo honestly couldn’t be bothered to listen to, so he just nodded at all the right places until he could escape thankfully.

Even while he was walking home, hands tightly in his pockets, the only thoughts going through his mind were a confusing mess of Sunggyu’s faint smile and Sunggyu’s eyes as they’d looked at Woohyun and Sunggyu’s words on endless repeat.

Woohyun, my boyfriend.

It was a good thing he hadn’t confessed after all.

 

-

Myungsoo stops when he feels a drop of water on his head, glancing up just as another falls on his cheek. Raindrops. He should have expected as much, but somehow it just hadn’t occurred to him to bring an umbrella. Rubbing at his cheek, he retreats to a nearby tree—it’ll do for now. He’s not going to turn back and go home now that he’s gotten this far.

Fumbling with the ribbon, he starts again where he left off, voice soft. “When I found out at first, I… I didn’t know what to do. I still wanted to be with you, but I didn’t want to see you anymore—I didn’t even want to go to the café in case I saw you or Woohyun and had to be reminded of everything all over again. And yet the only thing I wished for was to be able to tell you, to beg you to be with me, even though that was selfish.”

He can still remember all the long, sleepless nights he’d spent considering that, stuck in a limbo where all he wanted was for Sunggyu to know the truth and yet telling him was the last thing he wanted to do. He closes his eyes, breathing in. The pain isn’t the razor-sharp pinpoints of before, where the mere thought of Sunggyu would be enough to send his world crumbling to pieces, but it’s still a deep-set ache that leaves his chest tight. “I wanted to tell you everything. But at the same time, I knew… I could see how much you loved Woohyun. And I didn’t want to make you unhappy.”

He gently slides his thumb over one of the flowers, keeping his eyes focused on them instead of straight ahead. Perhaps he’s weak, but he can’t bring himself to do that. “So in the end, I didn’t say anything. I thought of telling you a dozen times, but I never did. In the end… I just kept it hidden.”

 

-

For once, Myungsoo didn’t open the fortune cookie on his way home from the café. But when he was sitting on his bed again, staring at the two fortune cookies sitting in his lap, he slowly picked one up and ripped the paper off.

He let out a soft, despondent laugh at the message inside, digging his fingers into his thigh hard.

When there is only half a heart in love, it is best to keep it hidden.

Advice from a fortune cookie was better than none at all, he supposed. Standing slowly, uncaring when the other fortune cookie rolled off onto the floor, he walked over to the bin and dropped the cookie halves in, message and all.

It wasn’t as if Sunggyu could ever be with him, anyway.

 

-

The rain is falling heavily now. The tree isn’t providing much in ways of cover, but by this point it doesn’t bother Myungsoo. He just listens to the steady, drumming rhythm of it for a long while, half-lost in his memories. There’s more he wants to say—needs to say—but the memories feel raw all over again now, brought to the surface after almost a year of keeping them buried. Biting down on his lip, he doesn’t lift his eyes from the flowers, not quite wanting to look up anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

When he finally brings himself to speak again, it’s no more than a whisper. But maybe Sunggyu can still hear him. Myungsoo hopes so. “I should have said something, I know. I’m sorry that I never told you, just because I was a coward. I knew that you wouldn’t have wanted that for me, and I knew that you were worried all those weeks. But I still couldn’t say anything. I… I couldn’t bring myself to say it, back then. I guess I felt that if I said it, all of that pain… knowing that I could never be with you, that it would all seem more real.”

He draws a deep breath, raising his gaze again. “But it’s been long enough, and it needs to be said. I… I love you, hyung. I loved you then, and now…” He sighs, the sound lost somewhere between the sound of the rain falling and the thumping of his own heart. “I still do.”

He falls silent again after that, staring at the ground. It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud; he’s never said the words before, not even to himself. And now he can only wish he did.

“I’m sorry, hyung. I’m sorry that I’m only telling you this now, when it’s too late to do anything at all.”

 

-

Myungsoo hadn’t been to the café in months. He’d refused to answer Sunggyu’s calls or even his messages, simply letting them build up unread and ignored. He couldn’t bring himself to look at them, even though he knew that Sunggyu was worried about him. The guilt weighed heavily on his mind at first, but with time it became easy enough to just tune out his voicemail messages and carry on with his life. And after long enough, the messages started dwindling and, eventually, stopped altogether.

Myungsoo knew he should be relieved, yet he still couldn’t fully forget about Sunggyu. He knew he was being a coward, really—ignoring him like this just because he couldn’t bear to see him and Woohyun together. On all those long nights when it was just him and his thoughts, the memories always crept forward, churning in his mind until he gave up on sleep altogether and just got out of bed.

It was one of those nights again. Myungsoo sighed, already long tired of tossing and turning in bed; now that he’d resumed a mostly-normal sleep schedule, maybe all those months of staying up late were getting to him. He didn’t really want to head out, but perhaps wandering around with his camera a bit would tire him out enough to get to sleep.

His camera was on his nightstand as usual, but when he reached to pick it up he ended up knocking his watch off the nightstand by accident instead. Swearing under his breath, he put his camera down and got on his knees, peering under his bed in the hopes of seeing it.

It was there, thankfully, but in the process of retrieving it his hand bumped against a paper-wrapped… something under his bed. Brow furrowing, he stretched his arm out and grabbed it as well, examining it as best as he could in the dark.

It was the other fortune cookie. , he’d forgotten about it. Well, it was definitely inedible by now. Getting to his feet again, Myungsoo bit down on his lip, suddenly thinking back to all the fortune cookie messages he’d thrown out that day.

Well… what would it hurt to open one last message?

Unwrapping the paper, Myungsoo broke the cookie in half to take the message out, absently tossing the cookie halves into his bin as he did so. He wandered towards his window to get enough light to read it by, squinting at the message.

His breath caught in his throat for a moment, the sudden rush of guilt mixed with nostalgia almost too much. How did these fortune cookies always manage to hit the point? These coincidences had to be too much, but by god, that advice was something he should have taken long ago. It was stupid and it would probably come to nothing, but even then…

Myungsoo should have told him. He should never have waited so long. Sunggyu deserved to know the truth.

Before he really knew what he was doing he was pulling on a hoodie over his rumpled shirt and sweatpants, dragging on the first pair of shoes he saw and rushing out of the door. Sunggyu would probably still be at the café, and this time, Myungsoo was going to tell him everything.

 

-

Myungsoo stops then, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment as he tries to recollect himself. The rain is still falling around him, droplets of water dripping into his hair and trickling down his face, but he can’t be bothered to wipe them away. He doesn’t quite want to continue anymore. Maybe it really hasn’t been long enough—the memory’s still too raw, too painful for him to want to talk or even think about. Maybe he’s not ready to face up to it after all.

He’s silent for a long time, barely moving. And eventually, it’s a soft, hesitant voice that breaks into his thoughts.

“Myungsoo…?”

Myungsoo’s heart leaps into his throat when he whips around, and the only thoughts going through his mind are this can’t be right and what are the chances, this shouldn’t be happening and not him, not now—but he looks up and Woohyun is right there, just a few paces away from him. He’s holding an umbrella in one hand, and in his other, just like Myungsoo, a bouquet of flowers.

Myungsoo’s at a loss for words; he ends up staring at Woohyun mutely, wondering if he should try to explain himself. Woohyun’s not saying anything either, but he silently walks forward, until he’s shoulder to shoulder with Myungsoo.

“I… didn’t expect to see you here.” Woohyun’s voice is still just as hesitant, like he doesn’t quite know what to say to Myungsoo. Myungsoo feels the same. “You’re bringing Sunggyu flowers?”

Myungsoo stares down at the bouquet in his hands, all vivid yellows and bright pinks. The flowers Woohyun brought are much more sombre compared to his, simple whites with a touch of pale purple; they somehow seem more appropriate. It’s just one more wrong choice on top of all the others Myungsoo’s made. “Yes,” he answers, unsure what else he should be saying.

Woohyun smiles a little at that, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “They look nice.”

“Um… thank you.” Myungsoo honestly has no idea what there is for him to say to Woohyun. Should he apologise for being here? Excuse himself and leave? He chews on his bottom lip, wondering if Woohyun wants to be alone with Sunggyu—just as he wanted to be—and if it would be right to just quietly step away for now.

Woohyun clears his throat, and Myungsoo glances up at him instinctively before he quickly looks away again. “Do you…” Woohyun hesitates again, but then he continues speaking. “Why don’t we put ours there together?”

Myungsoo bites down on his lip again, staring down at the flowers. “Okay,” he says softly.

Woohyun steps forward, kneeling down, and after a moment Myungsoo follows him. Taking a deep breath, he leans down, and gently places the flowers in front of Sunggyu’s grave.

 

-

Myungsoo practically ran all the way to the café. He almost lost a shoe along the way, but he couldn’t even bring himself to care. If he took long, his doubts would get the better of him again, and he didn’t want that. He was going to pour everything out to Sunggyu today, no matter what.

When he rounded the street corner, though, he immediately saw that something was wrong. There was a veritable crowd building up around the café, dozens of lights flashing and uniformed figures milling around the area; he could hear shouting and someone tried to disperse the crowd, but to no avail. Through the break in the crowd, though, Myungsoo caught a glimpse of yellow tape.

Fear suddenly filling him, he hurried forward, shoving his way through the crowd heedlessly. He was right—that was police tape, and the person trying to calm the crowd was a police officer.

“Excuse me,” he asked, trying to catch the officer’s attention. “Um, excuse me? I’m sorry, but—what happened here?”

The officer opened his mouth, probably to give some general, nondescript answer, but someone shouted from the crowd behind him, “There was a robbery!”

Myungsoo whipped around, barely hearing the officer’s annoyed calls about not agitating the crowd. He couldn’t see who was speaking, but the stranger in the crowd continued, voice rising. “There were shots fired! Somebody was hurt—”

“If you would please calm down, sir, we’ll have someone take your official statement soon,” the officer cut in, sounding irritated.

Myungsoo didn’t catch anything else of the conversation, his body slowly going numb as he stood there. Robbery? Shots fired? This couldn’t be happening. This had to be a nightmare. Sunggyu—where was Sunggyu? Who had been hurt? What—

“Sir?” Belatedly realising the police officer was calling him, Myungsoo looked back at him blankly, too shell-shocked to speak. “Sir, were you acquainted with anyone who might have been in the café? Any of your family, or perhaps…”

The rest of his words were lost on Myungsoo. Past the police tape, he could see a body being brought out—a body, his mind thought numbly, someone died someone was killed someone was—

Sunggyu.

He thought he could hear the police officer saying something again, calling him, but he couldn’t respond. He’d only caught a glimpse, but it was enough for him to tell. It was Sunggyu. That body was Sunggyu. Someone had been killed and that someone was Sunggyu.

His world was falling apart, crumbling down, even while he heard the crowd whispering in shock behind him and the noise and shouting mounted to a peak. The officer stopped talking to him, more occupied with keeping the crowd at bay. Myungsoo just stood there, staring ahead blankly, barely aware that his vision was blurring and salt was stinging at his eyes.

Slowly, his fingers uncurled around the paper he’d been clutching tightly in his hand. He didn’t notice when it fluttered away, drifting slowly to the pavement.

If you wait too long to speak of your true feelings, the chance will slip out of your hands.

 

-

Woohyun is quiet next to him, the only sound between them the faint pattering of the raindrops on Woohyun’s umbrella. The rain’s slowed a little, but it hasn’t quite stopped yet. When Myungsoo looks up, the sky’s still the same flat grey; he wonders if it’ll stay like that all day.

Even without looking over he can all but sense the surreptitious glances Woohyun keeps giving him, as if there’s something he wants to say but he has no idea how to say it. Myungsoo can relate. He doesn’t really want to say anything, but at the same time the silence is slowly getting to be too much to bear.

“…How much did you hear?” he finally says, not quite daring to look at Woohyun.

There’s a pause before Woohyun answers, his voice soft. “Enough.”

They fall silent again, and Myungsoo curls his hands tightly in his pockets. He’s not sure whether or not he regrets coming now; he hadn’t meant for Woohyun to hear any of it, and he’s not sure he could’ve said it all if he’d known Woohyun was listening. It had taken him a full year to drum up the courage to say all of this to a still, silent gravestone. Maybe it’s fair that Woohyun should know as well, but it’s not what Myungsoo wanted. Not at all.

It’s Woohyun who next breaks the silence, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the rain despite how lightly it’s falling. “I’m sorry that I never knew.” Myungsoo tenses slightly at the words, but before he can reply Woohyun goes on talking. “And that you never got to tell him. Was it because…”

He trails off, but he doesn’t need to say it. Myungsoo knows what he means. “Yes,” he admits, chancing a glance at Woohyun. He bites down on his lip when he sees guilt flash across Woohyun’s face, though it’s smoothed out in the next second. “It’s not your fault,” he adds helplessly. “I just… wasn’t brave enough.” The rain’s nearly stopped now, but his voice is still fading into nothing. Woohyun doesn’t make any indication of whether or not he hears him, but Myungsoo digs his nails into his palm and forces himself to go on talking. He might not have meant for Woohyun to hear any of this, but now that he has… he needs to hear it all. “Sunggyu-hyung—he loved you. You loved each other. I didn’t expect him to return what I felt, but I was afraid of getting between what you had if I said anything. It was my choice to keep it hidden.”

“Even if it hurt?” Now it’s Woohyun who’s avoiding his gaze.

Myungsoo is silent for a long moment, staring down at his hands. He thinks back to the way Sunggyu smiled at Woohyun when he wasn’t looking, open and warm and loving, and wonders if Woohyun ever saw it. If Sunggyu ever let him see it. “Yes,” he answers quietly. “Even if it hurt.”

“Were you ever going to tell him?” Woohyun’s words come out in a rush.

Myungsoo bites on his lip, staring at the ground. “Well, I actually was,” he admits. “I was going to tell him. The—the night that it… happened.” He takes a shaky breath, letting it out slowly. “I was just a little too late.”

“I’m sorry,” Woohyun whispers again, and this time Myungsoo isn’t sure how to respond.

The rain continues falling around them. Myungsoo notices that at some point Woohyun has shifted closer, and though the umbrella isn’t quite shielding him fully, rain is only falling on his left shoulder now. Myungsoo glances at Woohyun, taking in the frown on his brow and the smooth lines of his profile. He’s always known that Woohyun is good-looking, but right now all he can focus on is the unhappiness plain on his face.

It’s strange, really. Back when Sunggyu was still alive, Myungsoo could barely look at Woohyun. He was a constant reminder of everything Myungsoo could never be; charming and bright and the one person that Sunggyu loved. But now that he’s standing next to him in front of Sunggyu’s grave, he feels like they’re not so different after all. They’re both just people who loved Sunggyu, and the pain that’s so clearly written on Woohyun’s face is one that he feels deep inside him as well.

He understands it all too well, and he would give anything to be able to soothe Woohyun, if only a little. He’s not sure why, but surely nobody deserves that kind of heartache.

Woohyun finally breaks the silence after what seems like forever, though he still doesn’t look at Myungsoo. “You still love him.”

“Yes.” Myungsoo doesn’t falter. It’s painful, but he knows it’s the truth. Glancing up at Woohyun, he asks hesitantly, “Do you?”

“…Yes, I do.” Myungsoo had expected that answer. Woohyun’s fingers are gripping his umbrella so tightly Myungsoo can see the whites of his knuckles, but he doesn’t make a mention of it. “But I wish that my love hadn’t hurt yours. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Myungsoo tells him. “You know, I came here to say this so that I could move on. It’s been a year… that’s a long time.”

Woohyun’s laugh is slightly bitter. The sound strikes a pang somewhere deep down in Myungsoo’s heart. “I suppose it is. A year… it really is a long time.”

Myungsoo can hear what he’s not saying. It’s a long time that Woohyun has spent without Sunggyu.

Woohyun’s next words are devoid of that painful bitterness, but now he just sounds tired. His voice is barely audible when he speaks. “It really is time to move on. I know that. I just—I just don’t want to forget him.”

“You don’t have to,” Myungsoo says, aching for some way to comfort Woohyun. “I won’t ever forget him. I’ll always remember him, and maybe some part of me will always love him, but I can’t live in the past forever. And… neither can you.”

He prays that he isn’t being too forward, but Woohyun doesn’t react angrily. His brow is still furrowed, but his frown seems more thoughtful than unhappy now. Myungsoo doesn’t say anything else, giving Woohyun a few moments of silence.

Eventually, Woohyun sighs, straightening his shoulders a little. He finally looks straight at Myungsoo, and Myungsoo’s relieved to see that his grief is no longer so stark. “You’re right. Sunggyu-hyung… he would have wanted us to move on. Wouldn’t he?”

Myungsoo manages a smile at that. “Yes,” he answers lightly. “He would.”

Woohyun doesn’t break his gaze for a long moment. Myungsoo looks back at him, not at all sure what Woohyun’s thinking of, but his heart clenches a little. Eventually, Woohyun just sighs, glancing away for the barest second before he looks back at Myungsoo again. “It’s still raining,” Woohyun says, and Myungsoo glances up in surprise because it isn’t really, not anymore. He’s about to say so, but Woohyun steps closer before he can—it’s then that he realises Woohyun’s now holding his umbrella over Myungsoo as well, the shadow falling over him. “Walk with me?” Woohyun asks. “My umbrella’s big enough for both of us.”

The rain’s slowed to just a few drops now; Myungsoo knows that he doesn’t actually need an umbrella, and neither does Woohyun. But he nods anyway, and the smile Woohyun gives him in return is faint, but hopeful. It’s far more heartening than the pain in his eyes that was so evident before.

Myungsoo smiles back.

By the time they reach the gate again, the rain has stopped. The sky is still grey, but when Myungsoo looks up, he can see a break in the clouds. Just a hint of sunlight is filtering through—it’s dim, but then again, it’s still morning. Maybe the sky will clear up by afternoon. With any luck, it’ll still be a sunny day.

“I guess we don’t need the umbrella anymore,” Woohyun says with a laugh.

“No, we don’t,” Myungsoo agrees, but he doesn’t say anything when Woohyun makes no move to close it. He just returns Woohyun’s smile, and walks a little closer.