When Jongwoon left, Ryeowook wasn’t home and he didn’t get to say goodbye.

He’d been off at some schedule, some stupid recording, and had watched the minutes tick by on the clock in the background. When the hands hit ten, he excused himself and disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned thirty minutes later with puffy, red eyes, no one said a word. His stylists just gently pulled him into a chair and carefully fixed his makeup before he was ushered back onto set.

His manager ignored the sniffling in the backseat as he drove Ryeowook back to the dorms when the recording was finished.

---

Ryeowook shuffled into the dorms. The rooms were quiet; the others must have been out. He dropped his keys and bag on the kitchen table, hesitating for a moment in front of the TV before shaking his head and heading to his room.

He fell face-first onto his mattress as the door clicked shut behind him and he, for the third time that day, felt tears prickling at the backs of his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to cry. He’d promised Jongwoon he wouldn’t, that he would be strong. But that had been when Jongwoon was still there, when he could feel the strong arms around his waist and the warm breath on his neck. When he could still hear the deep, velvety murmurs in his ears and taste a hint of a strawberry latte as their lips moved together.

Twenty-three months.

And he didn’t get to say goodbye.

---

When Jongwoon came home, Ryeowook wasn’t there and he didn’t get to say hello. Not immediately.

He was at the studio, prerecording an episode of Sukira, and he watched the minutes flicker by on his phone. The second the numbers flashed seven, he shot out of his chair, thanking the staff for working hard before dashing out of the studio, barely paying any attention to the fans waiting outside as he rushed for his car. He sped through the streets, his heart pounding in his ears, and, when the dorms came into view, his face broke into a smile.

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waited for the elevator, and then again as he waited for the elevator to reach the twelfth floor. He walked as quickly as he could down the hall, his fingers shaking as he tried to unlock the door. As soon as the door opened and he saw the figure in the hallway, he felt his entire world shift back into place.

“Hyung!”

Jongwoon dropped the bags in his hands, slowly turning and grinning, stretching his arms out wide. Ryeowook hesitated for just a second before he launched himself forward, burying his face in the older man’s chest. Strong arms around his waist. Warm breath on his neck. The deep, velvety murmurs in his ears. And then—

“Did you stop at Mobit on the way here?”

Jongwoon whined when Ryeowook pulled away from him, just slightly. “Ryeowook—!”

“You did stop at Mobit on the way here.”

“It’s been two years, Wook; please just let me kiss you.”

Ryeowook’s lips twitched upwards and he leaned back in, but he tilted his head, his tongue flickering over his hyung’s jawline gently. “You got a strawberry latte.”

“Only because I know how much you like it when I—”

“I hope you got me one too.”

Jongwoon jerked his head to the side, finally pressing his lips against Ryeowook’s; the younger’s eyes slipped shut and his fingers quickly tangled themselves in his hyung’s short black hair.

“I didn’t, sorry. You’re gonna have to settle for me.”

Ryeowook’s bright, twinkling laugh filled the dorms and he pushed Jongwoon backwards toward his room. “I think that’s a pretty fair tradeoff.”

“I missed you, Ryeowook.”

“God, hyung, I missed you so much.” Ryeowook paused for a moment, staring up at his hyung. “But you’re back. For real.”

Jongwoon pressed a gentle kiss to Ryeowook’s forehead and his lips curved into a smile against his skin.

“I’m back,” he repeated, his voice soft. “With you.”