It was a low whisper under the air, under the voices, just the radio static of every conversation. Even when nobody was talking about it, everybody was implying it. And nobody wanted to talk about it. All Kihyun wanted to talk about was food.

“Welcome to Mon Café, how may I help you today?” It wasn’t a café and it wasn’t his, but the introduction was just a distraction from everything; it didn’t need to be accurate.

“Hi. I was wondering if you would, you know, serve me.” The man’s hair was cropped short, not quite to the scalp like Kihyun imagined it had once been, but short enough. His face was clean, there was no tricky smell to him, and his uniform could have used a few patches and a nice ironing.

Kihyun smiled at him. “There’s no war in here. Take a seat.”

He ate like an elephant, stuffing food away into every bit of fat on his tired bones. And Minhyuk just watched, in more fascination than repulsion, whispering a, “I wish I had a metabolism like that,” to Hyungwon, whose own metabolism was nothing to complain about. Minhyuk couldn’t help the lingering, the over-monitoring of his seating section; he’d never seen a soldier up close before. There was almost a star-struck quality to the view, the man’s hollowed-out cheeks filled with food and the nervous glances so unlike a soldier, so unconfident.

When Minhyuk next approached the table, a water in one hand and a pint of beer in the other, he asked, “So, you on leave?”

The man’s eyes grew wide and he raked his fingers through stiff dark hair. “You don’t care, do you?”

Minhyuk coughed out a laugh. “You’re a paying customer. I don’t have room to care!” And he leaned across the table like his next words were a secret: “I think it’s heroic. I hope someone pays for your meal, because I don’t have money. And that’s a lot of food you’re eating!”

He could see the man’s shoulders go lax. “I haven’t eaten like this in weeks.”

Minhyuk impulsively dropped a hand on his shoulder, palm against the rough, plastic-like fabric beneath. “Well, come back anytime!”

Nobody else would serve him anyway.

The soldier did come back. He sat at the same table, and Minhyuk whispered to Hyungwon, “I really do feel bad for him. The other customers won’t even look at him.”

Hyungwon rolled his eyes, seeing right through Minhyuk. “Just go talk to him. You’ve never had a problem talking to people before. And you’re so into that stuff, all the fighting and bravery and honor bull.”

“You’re against it?” Minhyuk tried not to gasp, to twist his face into one of disgust.

“No,” Hyungwon laughed, “I’m from the country, remember? I couldn’t care less.” He picked over his next words and then said, “But don’t you think it’s bad for business?”

Minhyuk was already halfway to the man’s table before he answered, “How can business be bad for business?” He ignored Hyungwon’s barely-audible, ‘Because it’s the wrong kind of business,’ before leaning on the table with his hand. “Hey, you were in here the other day, yeah?”

The soldier seemed to survey Minhyuk’s appearance—from his inside-out apron to his bleached-white hair—before nodding around a mouthful of food. And Minhyuk just had to notice how handsome this stranger was, in a rugged sort of way; his skin tanned from the sun soaking into it, taut muscles visible even under the uniform, his hands large and calloused. He really did look fresh off the battlefield. So Minhyuk asked, “You from around here?”

The man swallowed his food. “No,” Minhyuk got the impression that he didn’t talk a lot, both from the clipped responses to his naturally quiet voice. “I have to find someone.”

It wasn’t what Minhyuk had expected. But surely, a soldier’s life was more exciting than his own, and how should he have expected anything else? “Oh, really? Who is it? I’ve lived here for, like, ever, so I pretty much know everyone.” It wasn’t pretentious; Minhyuk really did know everyone. He was the unofficial welcoming committee of the entire county. The soldier’s face was still startling to him, in such a bleak town.

“Im Changkyun.” The name sounded hesitant, as if the soldier wasn’t sure of it himself. But it was a name Minhyuk knew all too well.

He considered pretending like he’d never heard of Changkyun; what if the stigma were true, and soldiers really couldn’t be trusted? But Minhyuk had always been a terrible liar, so he surrendered. “Oh, Changkyunnie? Yeah, he lives in my complex. Comes in here sometimes with his brother.” And suddenly, Minhyuk knew exactly what this was about.

The soldier lowered his head, took another mouthful of ramyun, “Then you know Lee Jooheon as well.”

Minhyuk drew closer to him, motioning for him to lower his voice. “I know him,” Minhyuk whispered, “But that’s not a friendly name around here, you know?”

He thought often of Lee Jooheon. Lee Jooheon, Changkyun’s adoptive brother who was nothing like the boy; Lee Jooheon, who used to play with sticks on the playground instead of flowers and tried to fight with his classmates; Lee Jooheon, who had been drafted last year into the never-ending war. And Minhyuk had never known him too well, but he prayed every night that Jooheon was fighting his hardest. Which is why a queasiness knotted his stomach when the man wouldn’t meet his eyes.

The soldier nodded and said, “I’m sorry.” He looked distressed, setting his chopsticks down and pulling Minhyuk closer by the strap of his inside-out apron. His lips were right against Minhyuk’s ear when he breathed, “I’m so sorry. He’s dead. I have to tell his brother.”

There was a jolt of electricity then, like Minhyuk had been stunned, and he covered his mouth with shaking hands. “No…” He was in disbelief—the town was immortal, the town where nothing ever happened and nobody so young ever died. He looked at the soldier, the man so alive—so alive that Minhyuk had just felt his breath on his ear—and decided that Lee Jooheon was dead as soon as he got drafted.

It was a Wednesday, a slow day for Hoseok overall. Because while customers would easily pick up a coffee or a pastry, meals were slow on Wednesdays. He was the only one in the kitchen. So Hoseok stepped out the door and was greeted by the back of Hyungwon’s head. “Hey,” he greeted the waiter.

“Hey,” Hyungwon wasn’t paying attention to him, focused instead on something else. He yanked Hoseok forward by the sleeve and pointed to one of the tables. “You see that?” he asked.

Everyone knew that Minhyuk was friendly with customers; it was hardly a new concept. But to see half of his body hovering over a table, swapping secrets with a soldier—Hoseok nearly did a double take. “Oh yeah?” Hoseok fell back against the wall next to Hyungwon. There were only a few customers. As long as Kihyun didn’t see, he could take a break. “When did he get here?”

“Few days ago.” Hyungwon chewed on his bottom lip in concentration. “He’s the first one, I think. And of course Minhyuk’s all over him.” He looked at Hoseok with knowing eyes.

And Hoseok laughed; he knew Minhyuk had little boundaries, but he hadn’t known they were this low. “That crazy bastard. And Kihyun hasn’t kicked the guy out yet?”

Hyungwon shot him a look. “Listen, you know Kihyun doesn’t care about any of that, as long as he keeps the shop. The guy’s on leave, too, from what Minhyuk told me. And I know you’re not a fan of the whole ‘kill for victory’ thing, but he’s a paying customer and he’s staying.”

Hoseok stood in silence, taking in Hyungwon’s clenched jaw and distressed brown, and he thought that maybe Hyungwon wanted the soldier gone, too. “And did I just cook the ramyun he’s eating?”

Hyungwon chuckled and pushed Hoseok at the shoulder. “Yes, idiot, you’re the only one who can make good ramyun around here.” And because it was from Hyungwon, Hoseok took the compliment with a grain of salt.

He’d let Minhyuk have his fun, he’d let Minhyuk daydream. And he knew Minhyuk would come back down from his place in the clouds and join reality once again.

Minhyuk waited outside Mon Café, by the back entrance, trying not to search too desperately for the large build or the stock of dark hair. And then the soldier appeared, head bowed as if afraid to make eye contact with Minhyuk. “Thank you, he said, “for doing this.”

“You don’t have to thank me—it’s my pleasure!” Minhyuk wadded his apron into a ball and popped the first few buttons of his collar. It was dangerous enough in this town for one man in a uniform, let alone two. “Changkyun’s always home. He’s been sad lately and won’t talk to anyone. But he still lets people inside.” Minhyuk hung the apron over his arm and asked, “So, what’s your name?”

The soldier looked around and replied softly, “I don’t know if I can say.”

“Nobody’s listening,” Minhyuk shrugged and beamed at the man next to him, “I’m Lee Minhyuk.”

“Son Hyunwoo,” the soldier kept his voice down. The name suited him, Minhyuk thought.

They grew closer to Changkyun’s place, where he lived with his family even if his parents were always working. Changkyun had always been a very distant person. He was kind but quiet, awkward but in a funny way. And Minhyuk hadn’t talked to him in what felt like a long time.

He knew how Changkyun would react, and that only made it worse—knocking on Changkyun’s door, managing to call, ‘Changkyun! It’s Minhyuk, open up!’ without his voice failing too much.

The boy looked like death. His eyes were dull, hair unwashed, clothes plain. But he still offered a weak smile to Minhyuk, falling only when he saw the soldier’s uniform brushing Minhyuk’s embroidered ‘Mon Café’ shirt. “Who is…” his rough voice trailed. Hyunwoo stepped more into Changkyun’s view, and he didn’t say anything before Changkyun opened the door fully. “Come in.”

Changkyun’s apartment was similar to Minhyuk’s own; identical in layout, but perhaps a bit more modest in furnishing. It truly looked like only one person lived there. He sat them down at the sole table, and didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he looked directly at Hyunwoo and asked, “How is he?” And a second later, “No, no, don’t answer that. I mean, I kind of expected—but I didn’t really think—did you know him?”

Hyunwoo smiled sadly and nodded. “He and I went patrolling together sometimes. He was a wonderful friend. The bravest in our unit, I think.”

More silence. Changkyun took a breath and Minhyuk swore he saw tears rolling down his cheeks, even when Hyunwoo hadn’t said those words: He’s dead, he’s dead. “And how did you know to find me?”

“He told me to,” Hyunwoo answered simply, “He gave me this—” Hyunwoo reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper—“and said to give it to you.”

Changkyun just stared at the letter as Hyunwoo set it on the table, as if afraid to touch it. “And is he—I don’t want to sound depressing, but I know it’s true, I feel it—is he alive?” It seemed that Changkyun had avoided asking the true question: Is he dead?

Once again, Hyunwoo said, “I’m so sorry,” just like he had to Minhyuk before, and it didn’t have any effect; Changkyun still cried, still curled up so that his forehead was on the table and his arms were squeezing his chest. So Minhyuk reached out and put a hand on the boy’s back, rubbing comforting circles into it.

When Changkyun lifted his head, his eyes were swollen and his nose was running, but nobody said anything. “Was it—was it a good death?”

Hyunwoo thought for a while. “Is any death really a good one?” he asked, “It was a brave death, just like him. He saved people that day.”

The boy bobbed his head up and down blindly. His fingers trailed along the folded edge of the stationery with no intention of opening it. “I’ll maybe read this. Later.” He seemed disjointed, more out of it than Minhyuk had ever seen, so Minhyuk kept patting his back like it would make something better.

“If you need anything, Changkyun,” Minhyuk tried to look at him, but the boy wouldn’t meet his eyes, “just ask. I’m here for you.” Changkyun didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t stop crying. Minhyuk wasn’t good with things like that, not like Kihyun or even Hoseok sometimes, but he could tell that Changkyun wanted to be alone. He tugged on Hyunwoo’s sleeve next to him and Hyunwoo got the message, standing up from the table with Minhyuk.

He didn’t want to leave Changkyun, not when he was so broken, but the boy needed time and space. Minhyuk made sure the door was closed tight behind him, and then it was just him and the soldier in the street.

They walked in silence for some time, but Minhyuk was never one for silence; it made the air feel itchy and tense. “How long are you on leave for?”

“I’ve got just a day left,” Hyunwoo answered, “But I guess I don’t really need to be here anymore.”

“C’mon,” Minhyuk laughed and tugged on the thick sleeve of the soldier’s uniform. “It might not look like much, but it’s great here. I’ll take you to our only park—it’s a real cute place, I promise!”

Hyunwoo smiled then, and Minhyuk thought it was a charming smile, one where his eyes disappeared into little moons. “Cute?” (But he let Minhyuk drag him along anyway.)

The park wasn’t too far, and maybe it was the ugliest park in the word but Minhyuk wouldn’t know; he’d never been to another park before. They didn’t walk around, but sat instead on a bench in the shade. “Can I ask you,” Minhyuk took in a deep breath, “about the war? I was gonna enlist, actually, but I dunno.”

And Hyunwoo stared at him for a long time, then chuckled. “Don’t enlist. You’ll regret it.”

“How do you know?” Minhyuk pouted, sticking out his lower lip dramatically.

“That’s how,” Hyunwoo said, “That right there. Even just from meeting you, you’re too…sweet.”

Minhyuk threw his head back in laughter. “And soldiers can’t be sweet?”

“No.” Hyunwoo didn’t hesitate. “Soldiers can’t really act like people at all. If you get emotional about something, then it’s harder to see it go.” Minhyuk really thought about that. The man next to him—even if he was quiet, or a bit awkward at times, he still seemed genuine and very human to Minhyuk.

He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe he wanted to test something, maybe he wanted to live more excitingly for one moment. Whatever the reason (or maybe he didn’t need one), Minhyuk leaned into Hyunwoo and pressed his lips quickly to the man’s cheek. The reaction was immediate and comical, Hyunwoo’s eyes growing wide and his tan skin looking a few shades paler. Minhyuk just laughed and said, “It’s always good to have a friendly face around. I’ll be rooting for you.”

Kihyun had never witnessed an occupation before. When the soldiers filed in, however, he figured out what was happening. They were like dull green ants, or maybe rats, infesting every street and alley.

He was worried about Minhyuk. The waiter had so much hope inside him, so much love to give, and everyone knew of Minhyuk’s fascination with the army. He craved excitement and justice. And maybe the worst part about an occupation was that it would disappoint him. Kihyun knew that the soldiers were trying to keep the town safe—safe from the rebels opposing them and who knew what else—but it was the same army that had overthrown the government years before. The same army that most common people detested.

Kihyun had seen the way Minhyuk looked at the soldier, the one who came months ago. Like he was a god, like he was everything Minhyuk strived to be. And the way the soldier looked at Minhyuk was dangerously similar.

Even the morning was quiet. He’d arrived at Mon Café early to open, and the town seemed deserted except for the soldiers. In a town so alive, that morning, everything fell still. So Kihyun just sat back and hoped people still found the need to show up.

If Minhyuk was being honest, he’d never expected to see the soldier again. He did think about Son Hyunwoo, and his warning not to enlist. He thought about the man’s smile, and how warm his eyes were (something Minhyuk certainly hadn’t expected from a soldier, but liked anyway).

Minhyuk knew something was wrong as soon as he stepped outside that morning. While there were usually people littering the streets as early as dawn, he didn’t see anyone in the streets—no people, no buses, no bikes. Everyone Minhyuk could see was pushed to the edges of the street, walking in two straight lines, looking dead ahead as if afraid to do anything else.

He headed straight for Mon Café, taking in the new world around him as he went. Soldiers lined the curbs of every street, still as statues, watching anyone who so much as sneezed at the wrong time.

This isn’t what war’s about, Minhyuk though, This isn’t about freedom or bravery or the greater good. Minhyuk didn’t know why he looked left when he did, but five meters away from the Mon Café entrance stood a familiar face. The same stoic expression, the same short hair, the same tanned skin. And Minhyuk wanted to call out his name, to call, ‘Son Hyunwoo! Son Hyunwoo!’ but his voice tangled in his throat.

The work day passed in a blur; very few customers came in, and those who did were deadly quiet. Hyungwon didn’t show up at all.

Minhyuk left the small restaurant with his head hung down, but not before he snuck a glance at Son Hyunwoo. Yes, that was definitely him. And Minhyuk couldn’t take it anymore; he walked right up to the soldier and said, “You! What’s going on? Please tell me, nobody—”

“Is there a problem here?” It was another soldier, who grabbed Minhyuk strongly at the shoulder to keep him in place. Hyunwoo’s face was like wax, his body unmoving. Even his eyes were locked in front of him, and Minhyuk swore he saw a flicker of emotion in them.

“No.” Minhyuk wrestled his arm away, “There’s not. I’ll be on my way.”

His shoulder was caught again, “I’m afraid I need to see a form of identification.”

Minhyuk didn’t have a form of identification; he’d been issued one, yes, but it was buried in a drawer. The town had been so safe before. He’d never needed the card in at least five years. “I, uh, just got off of work.” he pointed to the striped veranda of Mon Café. “My employer can vouch for me. He has my information on file—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Hearing that voice again sent a chill through Minhyuk’s body. Only Hyunwoo’s lips moved, “You’re free to go.”

Both Minhyuk and the other soldier sent him shocked looks, and Minhyuk only believed him when the stranger let go of his shoulder. So Minhyuk just muttered a stunned ‘thank-you’ and returned home, head down the whole way.

Hyunwoo was no soldier. People called him a soldier, but he never truly was one. Some men called the uniform a “second skin”, but Hyunwoo always thought it felt unnatural on him.

Few had called him brave. Hyunwoo remembered the night he told his parents he was going off to war; his mother cried, and his father called him a coward. Hyunwoo hadn’t expected anything different, but the accusation still made his throat burn.

Hyunwoo had seen the army as a fresh start, a way to leave his dull life behind and come back home later as someone else; maybe he was a coward. There were a lot of words to describe Hyunwoo, and most people used words like ‘boring,’ ‘awkward,’ or ‘cold.’ And Hyunwoo didn’t think he was any of those. But when Lee Minhyuk called him brave, when Minhyuk’s eyes shone like that, when he smiled like that and told Hyunwoo everything he’d ever wanted to hear, Hyunwoo believed him. He wanted to be brave then, wanted to be a soldier if it made that man happy.

Minhyuk was a treasure. Hyunwoo knew people like him were rare—people so accepting, so content with themselves, just radiating positivity. And Hyunwoo fed off of it. He fell right into the bright, shining abyss that was Lee Minhyuk. Everything about him—from his bold white hair to his teeth that seemed too-small and just-right at the same time—wrapped around Hyunwoo and stayed there like a cocoon.

When he had to return to the army, Hyunwoo held onto his tiny memories with the man, in the barracks or in the morning lineup or in combat. While the other soldiers had sweethearts back home, pretty girls whose photographs fit nicely in a wallet, Hyunwoo had a man in a strange town, whose face looked like the sun.

Seeing him again should have been a blessing. But it was the circumstances—the occupation, the fearful citizens around them—that made Hyunwoo anxious. He couldn’t look at Minhyuk, couldn’t say anything to him; Hyunwoo just had to be a soldier then, just had to be quiet and watch Minhyuk steadily in his peripherals.

Perhaps that was why he ended up at Minhyuk’s apartment that night. Ended up standing in front of it, stupidly afraid to knock on the door. There was no noise from inside, and it was late; Hyunwoo guessed Minhyuk would be sleeping. He gathered his breath and knocked anyway. For a moment, nothing. Then there was a shuffling, the sound of soft feet on wood, and the unbolting of a chain lock. And then Minhyuk, pale hair tousled and eyes barely cracked open.

He woke up in an instant at the sight of the soldier. Minhyuk gasped and exclaimed, “Hyunwoo? What are you doing here?” The night was quiet, and Minhyuk’s tired voice rang out into the street.

“Shh, I’m not supposed to be here,” Hyunwoo whispered, and it felt almost exciting, not following orders for once.

Minhyuk understood he motioned Hyunwoo inside and locked the door behind them. They’d last seen each other that morning under less fortunate circumstances, and it chilled the air between them. But Minhyuk, fortunately for Hyunwoo, sprang into action. “Are you cold? Do you want a blanket? I have drinks, too, or food if you want that.”

He didn’t know if Minhyuk felt he owed something to Hyunwoo, or if he was just being nice. Hyunwoo wasn’t used to that. “Maybe a water, if you don’t mind.” Hyunwoo stood at the edge of Minhyuk’s living room. The space was similar to Changkyun’s apartment, more like a small house than anything, but it was much more decorated than the other boy’s.

“Sit, sit,” Minhyuk smiled at him when he returned with a glass of water. Hyunwoo had missed that smile, and hadn’t gotten enough of it to begin with. They sat at a small wooden table, across from each other. “Seems like you’ve been busy lately.”

Hyunwoo had intended on keeping his emotions hidden, but it was useless if Minhyuk’s eyes crinkled like they did. “I’m sorry,” he said, “When you saw me earlier, I wanted to say something, but I’m—I’m not supposed to, you know? I was hoping I’d see you again, though. On leave, you were nothing but helpful to me. I never really got to thank you properly.”

There was something in Minhyuk’s expression he couldn’t pick out. “I told you, you don’t need to thank me. I’m just being a decent person. If anything, I should be thanking you—saving lives every day, protecting people—that’s amazing!”

Minhyuk couldn’t be real. He was too perfect, and so beautiful, and Hyunwoo needed to be careful around people like that (even if nobody else was like Minhyuk). In the dim night lighting, he was almost glowing, and his smile made Hyunwoo’s heart freeze up. They were so different; while Hyunwoo tried to bottle everything up, Minhyuk just let everything spill out from every pore on his skin.

He thanked Minhyuk. Hyunwoo couldn’t say it enough, and just those two words would never mean what he wanted them to. Minhyuk touched Hyunwoo’s arm lightly, but he could feel the warmth of it through the fabric. “Really, don’t thank me.” Then his eyes shifted, more shining and playful. “Hey, you wanna see something?” Hyunwoo didn’t get a chance to respond before Minhyuk grabbed his hand and led him to a back door. “Come on!”

The door moved into a hallway, and the hallway to a flight of stairs, and soon Minhyuk had led Hyunwoo to the roof of the building. Instead of letting go of Hyunwoo’s hand, he faced the soldier and took both hands and tilted his head back toward the sky. “Isn’t it incredible?” His breath crystallized in the night air, “Look at all the stars!”

Hyunwoo didn’t think it was incredible. They were just stars; he’d seen skies before from the barracks where the entire cosmos was visible. But they lit up Minhyuk’s face just right, made him glow like tiny gems were projected on him, and Hyunwoo was completely entranced. “It’s incredible.” Maybe he said it too softly, maybe too sadly.

“Come on, sit with me!” Minhyuk folded onto the concrete roof and pat the empty spot next to him. So Hyunwoo sat. “I love coming up here. I brought Changkyun here the night his brother left. It’s a good place to talk about things.” He looked at Hyunwoo for a moment, then let out a laugh. “You don’t seem like much of a talker, though.”

“Is that…is it bad?”

“Of course not!” The man laid his head of white hair onto Hyunwoo’s shoulder just for a second, then lifted it. Hyunwoo wondered if he did that with everyone, if he was always so affectionate. “Everyone says I talk too much.” But Hyunwoo thought he could listen to Minhyuk talk forever.

They laid there a while, in the cool spring darkness, and it felt like they could be the only ones in the world. When Minhyuk walked him back downstairs and unlocked the door, Hyunwoo didn’t know when he’d next see Minhyuk. But he didn’t need to see Minhyuk at all; Hyunwoo had said his thanks and could go back to being a soldier.

Minhyuk’s hand came to rest on Hyunwoo’s chest. It was rare for him to be so close to someone else. And Minhyuk closed his eyes and tipped his chin up a bit and pressed his lips to the skin of Hyunwoo’s cheek, just like he had weeks before. The feeling left too fast. “If anyone ever gives you hell,” his eyes crinkled up, “just remember I’m rooting for you. And stop by if you need anything, yeah?”

Hyunwoo wanted to hug him. He wanted to wrap his arms around the slim frame and breathe him in and just hold Minhyuk close forever. Instead he said, “I will,” opening the door and stepping out into the street. The night looked so different from when he’d been lying next to Minhyuk, gazing at the stars. And he said it one more time, “Thank you,” even though Minhyuk had told him not to.

Mon Café was void of any customers. Changkyun had never seen it like that; he’d missed a lot since he decided to become a recluse.

Minhyuk, as expected, was sociable as ever. He greeted Changkyun like they hadn’t seen each other in years: “Changkyunnie! It’s so great to see you! So great to see anyone, really. What can I get you today?”

He ordered the chicken ramyun, like he always had in the past. Changkyun had nearly forgotten the taste. He probably looked terrible, pale and tired from choosing mourning over sleep. But Minhyuk didn’t seem to care; he sat across from Changkyun and talked about light-hearted things neither of them really cared about.

And then he said, “Did you…did you read the letter?” Changkyun looked down and swished his noodles around before Minhyuk clarified, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to!”

“It’s fine,” Changkyun hadn’t dragged himself out of his dim apartment and through the heavily-patrolled streets just to keep mourning, “And no, I didn’t read it,” He chuckled a bit, “I guess I’m kinda nervous. I’d be really bad in the army, wouldn’t I?” Changkyun tried to change the subject, “So how’d that soldier know to find you? He seemed like a nice guy.”

Minhyuk bit his lip and glanced down. He looked almost shy; Changkyun wasn’t used to seeing that from Minhyuk. “If only you knew,” He propped his chin up on his hand and took a breath, “I think you should read it. You don’t have to. But I think you should.” Changkyun should have known the subject change wouldn’t last long.

He looked at Minhyuk and made a promise, one he was determined to keep. “I will. Not today, but I will. He wrote it for me, after all.”

The next time Hyunwoo showed up at Minhyuk’s doorstep, it was the middle of the day. Minhyuk had been reading, a book he’d read a hundred times, the uneven knock on the door tearing him out of concentration.

He was glad to see Hyunwoo again. But not in this way, not with Hyunwoo stumbling past his doorframe, doubled over in pain, gripping Minhyuk’s shoulder so he wouldn’t fall down. “What’s wrong?” Minhyuk’s brain kicked into action, and he led a limping Hyunwoo to the nearest chair, “Hyunwoo, what happened?”

Hyunwoo’s teeth were clenched dangerously, his whole body shaking as he pulled his other arm away from his abdomen. The injury wasn’t pretty; the fabric had been torn at the side seam and there was a wide bloodstain spanning his waist. It was a bullet wound, no doubt, something Minhyuk had never dealt with before. He acted on instinct, pulling aside the front panel of Hyunwoo’s uniform and zipping it down. Getting Hyunwoo’s arms out of the sleeves was a hassle, with Hyunwoo’s brain consumed by pain, but Minhyuk managed with some encouragement. The man couldn’t lift his arms, however, and Minhyuk had to cut away at the tee-shirt underneath using his kitchen scissors. He sprinted to the bathroom, snatching some gauze and strong painkillers out of a cupboard, and when he returned fresh blood had trailed down Hyunwoo’s side.

Before he wrapped Hyunwoo’s waist up, he got a better look at the injury—thankfully, it was a clean shot, no bullet fragments in his skin. And even if it wasn’t near any vital organs, just having grazed the bottom of his ribcage, Minhyuk didn’t know if any ribs were broken. He braced Hyunwoo’s body and quickly rolled the gauze around Hyunwoo’s middle. The blood kept soaking through, layer after layer, and the noise Hyunwoo made when Minhyuk tried to put pressure on the area told him that a rib was definitely broken somewhere. So he bandaged Hyunwoo thickly, using the whole roll of gauze, and held Hyunwoo still until the bleeding slowed just a little.

“Shh, you’ll be okay,” Minhyuk tried to smile easily at him, despite the stress, “Just breathe with me here.” Minhyuk kept a hand on Hyunwoo’s heart as he held the soldier’s eyes. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, feeling Hyunwoo’s heartbeat even out when he matched Hyunwoo’s breaths. “There, it’s gonna be fine. Stay calm.” All Minhyuk could do was offer Hyunwoo encouragements, even though he had no idea if he was doing anything right.

He stayed there with Hyunwoo, pulling tight on the bandage until the blood stopped soaking through and Hyunwoo wasn’t at risk of passing out. Then Minhyuk prepared a bucket of cool water, both to soak the rag in and so Hyunwoo could swallow the pills. It was half an hour later when Hyunwoo spoke to him: “Minhyuk, thank you. I…they were a rebel gang, shooting at any soldier. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Minhyuk felt almost proud to be Hyunwoo’s first choice, to be his source of help when no one else would. “Good thing you know where to find me, then,” Minhyuk smiled at him, “Now I don’t have much experience with healing wounds, but we should really get you lying down. Do you think you can stand up?”

Hyunwoo nodded, albeit hesitantly, and so Minhyuk helped support the man at his shoulder. There really was no other place to go besides Minhyuk’s own bed. Hyunwoo made it there with much wheezing and much help, passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Minhyuk simply wrung out a cold compress for him, not caring how much blood would stain his sheets in the morning.

Hyunwoo felt like .

Every part of his body felt like , in fact. Most specifically, the right side of his waist. Concentrated there was a pain unlike any other pain Hyunwoo knew, something searing and rooted in his core.

The room didn’t smell like the barracks. It didn’t smell like dozens of men who hadn’t had a decent bath in weeks. No, the room smelled like a home, like soap and food and warmth. It smelled familiar.

“How are you feeling?” The gentle voice was Lee Minhyuk’s, but Hyunwoo had barely any recollection of coming to his apartment.

“Terrible.” Hyunwoo groaned out, and it drew a laugh out of Minhyuk.

“I’d feel pretty bad if I got shot, too.”

Hyunwoo looked around the room—Minhyuk’s room. It was painted white, with little knickknacks and painted posters on the walls. And Minhyuk fit right in, hair blending into the walls and smile blending with the bright colors. The bed was comfortable but small, and when Hyunwoo looked down he saw bandages around his middle and blood on the sheets. “How long have I been here?”

“Just the night,” Minhyuk wrung out a cloth and stooped beside the bed, pressing it to Hyunwoo’s forehead. It was cold and Hyunwoo didn’t like the feeling. “You’re running a fever. I had to change your bandages a few times and you didn’t even wake up. Good thing I bought a bunch of gauze last night, right?” He laughed a bit, nervously. “I hope it’s not infected. I’m not a nurse or anything; I don’t have much experience with this kind of stuff.”

When Hyunwoo’s eyes fell on Minhyuk, he really did look like an angel. “Thank you,” Hyunwoo said, “I wouldn’t have died from that gunshot, but if it did get infected…You might have saved me last night.”

The look Minhyuk gave him was so soft. “You say ‘thank you’ a lot. I told you to come here if you needed anything, right?”

Hyunwoo remembered that. But he hadn’t thought of it when he got shot, hadn’t thought of anything then. Hyunwoo’s feet just carried him to Minhyuk’s small apartment on their own.

It was an odd feeling, not being able to move. And even if Hyunwoo could move, Minhyuk caught him and lowered him back down every time he tried. Hyunwoo hated being pampered, especially by someone he owed so much to, and the more hours that passed the more Hyunwoo became convinced that Minhyuk was an angel. He cooked for Hyunwoo, made him soup that maybe tasted better just because Minhyuk made it; he dressed Hyunwoo’s wound so carefully; he helped Hyunwoo hobble to the bathroom with no objections.

That night, Minhyuk came into the room—his room, technically—and sat by Hyunwoo’s bed and just talked to him. It had been so long since Hyunwoo had a conversation like that, between people who knew each other barely well enough to ask stupid things. He answered Minhyuk’s questions with a smile on his face (‘When you’re on the battlefield or whatever, what happens when you need to pee?’ ‘What did you want to be before you joined the army?’ ‘If you could take one animal with you to keep you company at war, what would it be?’). For a while, Hyunwoo forgot he was in pain at all.

“I’ll leave tomorrow,” Hyunwoo told him, “I think I can stand on my own. And I don’t want to bother you anymore.”

Minhyuk laughed. Hyunwoo loved his laugh, how squeaky and genuine it was. “Are you kidding? This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in years! And you just got shot, Hyunwoo, I’d be cruel to just send you back out there. Stay here for a few more days and just rest up. Then you can go back to doing whatever you army men do.”

And Hyunwoo knew that even if he protested, Minhyuk would win in the end.

The first day was easy. Minhyuk went to work and left Hyunwoo with a freshly cold compress and a tube of painkillers on the nightstand, wrapped in a note that read, ‘Be back in five-ish hours. Don’t try to stand up!!’ So Hyunwoo took two pills and tried to sleep off the pain.

He woke up with a new bandage and a new compress and a face full of Minhyuk. “Oh, good, you’re awake! And your fever’s gone down,” Minhyuk pulled a dubious-looking wooden chair closer to the bed and positioned it towards Hyunwoo. “So, how was your day?”

Hyunwoo blinked. He couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him that. “It was…well, I slept a lot. How was yours?”

“Not busy. Which is bad, because it’s supposed to be busy. My one friend, Hyungwon—he doesn’t even clock in anymore. And our boss doesn’t care,” Minhyuk sighed, “It’s not your fault.” Minhyuk extended his hand to grab Hyunwoo’s own. It was unfamiliar to Hyunwoo, all the little touches Minhyuk gave him; he was used to being afraid of intimacy, afraid of losing the people he cared about. But Minhyuk calmed him, made him feel comfortable. “Tell me a story,” he smiled, “Some crazy manly war story.”

Hyunwoo didn’t think any of his stories were crazy, or particularly manly (mostly just sad or dull), but he told Minhyuk anyway. And Minhyuk clung to every word like he were memorizing them. They talked long into the night, until Minhyuk began yawning uncontrollably. He went off to bed then, but not before giving Hyunwoo a fresh compress and a quick kiss on the cheek.

Perhaps that was what made the second day harder.

While Minhyuk was at the restaurant, Hyunwoo couldn’t stop wishing for him to come back. It was almost pitiful, how often his thoughts drifted to the man. All the kisses Minhyuk had given him collected on his cheek and burned into the skin.

As much as he tried, Hyunwoo couldn’t deny his natural attraction to Minhyuk. He was too good to be true, too perfect. It was inevitable that Hyunwoo would fall for him from the start. And each day it got worse. Hyunwoo wondered when his breaking point would be.

“Tell me more about the war,” Minhyuk was sitting in that chair again, holding onto Hyunwoo’s hand like it was perfectly normal (and maybe it was). “Why did you join the army?”

“I wasn’t the most popular guy back home,” Hyunwoo explained, “I guess I just didn’t have much purpose. I wanted something different,” When he laughed, it came out bitterly, “but I didn’t think it would be this different.”

Minhyuk nodded, “Do you regret joining?”

“Every day.”

They sat in silence for a while, and Minhyuk brought Hyunwoo’s hand to his mouth, placing his lips to the knuckles. It made Hyunwoo’s heart twist. “Have you ever…ever hurt anyone?”

Hyunwoo chuckled, “Like have I killed someone? Not up close. Otherwise, I’m not sure. We’re all just kind of waving our guns around, like that will change something,” Minhyuk’s soft eyes drifted to Hyunwoo’s hands, then the gauze around his middle, then his face. He seemed deep in thought, and Hyunwoo hated to see him distressed like that. “Hey, help me sit up.”

That definitely changed Minhyuk’s expression, to one of disapproval. “You’re not going anywhere unless you have to pee. Until that wound heals up—”

“Minhyuk,” Hyunwoo wanted to touch his face, the delicate edge of his cheek, but by some miracle he stopped himself, “I’ll be fine. You worry too much.”

It only took two more minutes before Minhyuk caved in. He braced his hands on Hyunwoo’s shoulder and the good side of his waist, helping to ease the strain as Hyunwoo pushed off the bed. Hyunwoo liked the feeling of Minhyuk’s hands, warm against his skin. And maybe it was the medication talking, but he liked Minhyuk’s proud smile, too, once he managed to sit against the headboard.

“If you need anything, just call.” Minhyuk pat Hyunwoo’s arm lightly, maybe subconsciously. Hyunwoo felt something between them, recognized longing in Minhyuk’s eyes. And then his lips were on Hyunwoo’s cheek again and he was gone until morning.

That night Hyunwoo didn’t dream of guns and fire and dirt. He didn’t dream of sloppy food and blood. That night Hyunwoo dreamed of Minhyuk’s voice, and his laugh, and the stars in his eyes.

Changkyun,

I don’t want to sound cliché or anything like they do in those dramatic trashy horror books, but if you’re reading this, that means I’m dead.

Don’t let that get to you. Being dead is fine—at least, I’m sure it will be. I know sometimes I can be silly and kinda crazy, but here I have to be super serious. So I’m sure I didn’t just die like an idiot, you know? I bet it was pretty heroic.

After I finish writing this, I’ll give it to my buddy Hyunwoo. Big guy, kinda timid. Treat him nicely, okay? I can tell he’s lonely.

Tell mom and dad that I love them. Even if they didn’t support me at first, I still love them.

As always, I’m sure you’ll do great things. Just thinking of you makes me miss home. You’re such a great person and I know you’ll go far. I wish I told you that more when we were kids.

Don’t forget me so easily!

Your brother,

Jooheon

Minhyuk was in love.

He’d fallen for soft smiles and strong arms and shy ‘thank you’s. He was in love with Son Hyunwoo and he wanted everyone to know.

Minhyuk had been in love once before. He was five years old, and the prettiest girl in town was in his class, and back then Minhyuk had truly believed the love was real. But this was new. Hyunwoo made him weak, caught him off guard. It was more than just his face; it was everything about him (although Minhyuk had no complaints about seeing his bare chest or toned stomach every time he changed the man’s bandages).

Hyungwon started coming to work again. Even though he scowled the entire time, it certainly lightened Hoseok’s mood. And on his first day back, Minhyuk hugged him tight and announced, “Hyungwon, I’m in love!”

The taller man just blinked. “Geez, Minhyuk, I just walked through the door.” Hyungwon probably didn’t care about Minhyuk’s new emotional escapades, but he still said, “So who’s the lucky idiot?”

“I can’t tell you who it is,” Minhyuk winked at him, “Just wanted you to know that I’m in love and it feels wonderful.”

Hyungwon rolled his eyes. “Congratulations. Now find the love in your heart to not tell Kihyun when I nap later.”

He could feel himself healing each day, the pain of the bullet far from gone, but reduced to a dull burning in his side. Minhyuk had helped him relocate to the couch the day before; it might have been larger than his bed, and certainly easier to eat on.

Hyunwoo, from his base on the sofa, had a clear view of the window. It felt like weeks since he’d showed up at Minhyuk’s, and Hyunwoo missed the sun. He felt himself grow paler by the second, not to mention more out of shape.

“You look stressed,” Minhyuk remarked, and it might have been an understatement. Hyunwoo had nothing else to do during the day besides sleep, eat, and read the few books Minhyuk owned.

“Don’t worry about me,” Hyunwoo said, “You work too hard.”

Minhyuk just laughed and rang out another rag for Hyunwoo’s forehead. He was in a cycle, Hyunwoo noticed: He’d walk to the sofa with the damp cloth, kneel down in front of Hyunwoo’s legs, and reach up to press the compress against his face. It was a cycle that could have been executed many different ways, and Hyunwoo felt his current way was the worst of all possibilities. Seeing Minhyuk on his knees in front of him—Hyunwoo couldn’t help where his mind went. Perhaps it was inappropriate, thinking of a civilian like that, but Hyunwoo knew the ual perils of a soldier too well and Minhyuk hardly felt like a civilian.

The man was being careful. Hyunwoo wasn’t sure why, but Minhyuk had lost that reckless glint in his eye that he’d displayed so proudly before. He seemed to bite things back more, like he had something on the tip of his tongue.

Then Hyunwoo messed up. He’d fallen asleep comfortably, sitting up with his arms crossed and legs spread. When he woke up, it was to the familiar cold of a wet rag on his skin. And Minhyuk was there, practically between his legs, one arm much too close to Hyunwoo’s thigh. It took Hyunwoo a moment to realize he wasn’t dreaming. Minhyuk’s eyes were trained on him and it made Hyunwoo’s face burn.

“You’re awake,” Minhyuk spoke quietly for a change, like his words would break if he said them louder. He chuckled as if he had a secret, and Hyunwoo wanted to know it as well. The soldier tried to sit straight, tried to lift his back off the couch, but Minhyuk pushed him back lightly at the chest. “Hey, you can’t get up yet. Doctor’s orders.” Hyunwoo didn’t think rinsing cloths and holding them to his forehead qualified Minhyuk as a doctor.

Then Minhyuk rose tall on his knees, Hyunwoo’s legs flanking his waist, and it was quite a sight. Minhyuk moved slowly, steadying the compress with one hand and placing the other just above Hyunwoo’s knee. He leaned in and for a second they both looked down, taking in how little space was between them. Minhyuk’s hand inched up to the mid-thigh, his chest a few inches from Hyunwoo’s core and his waist a few inches from Hyunwoo’s crotch.

All Hyunwoo wanted to do was kiss him and he didn’t know why. The man was electric, everywhere he touched full of energy. The final blow was when Minhyuk looked up at Hyunwoo and their eyes locked and he breathed, “You can kiss me. I don’t mind.”

Hyunwoo swallowed. “That’s—unprofessional.” They were so close. “I shouldn’t.” Because they both knew that once he kissed Minhyuk, every bit of restraint would crumble away like dried leaves, and he’d never stop.

“Alright,” Minhyuk’s voice was soft, and when he stood up it was as if nothing had happened. He went into the kitchen and pulled some snack out of some cupboard, maybe as a distraction. “You hungry?”

It was the next day that Hyunwoo realized he had to leave.

He took a shower, being careful not to wet the bandage, and everything hit him so suddenly. This wasn’t how a soldier was supposed to live. Minhyuk had ruined him, had redefined his comfort level. Hyunwoo’s commanding officer probably thought he was MIA, and Hyunwoo didn’t care. He didn’t want to go back to the war; he wanted to stay with Minhyuk, in the tiny home, and listen to Minhyuk’s laugh and feel his kiss each night. That was the exact reason why he had to go back.

“I’ll leave tomorrow,” Hyunwoo said in the evening, “I mean it this time.”

Minhyuk sat next to him on the couch and took Hyunwoo’s hand and Hyunwoo hated how good it felt. “One more day. The day after tomorrow.” It sounded like a decision rather than a request (but Hyunwoo couldn’t say no anyway).

They both slept on the sofa that night. And the night after. Hyunwoo could easily lie down but it was better to sleep slumped against Minhyuk, the man’s head on his shoulder. He didn’t even care how much Minhyuk drooled on him either night.

And then Hyunwoo was caught in the crossroads. Standing at Minhyuk’s front door with his uniform freshly-washed, the fabric itchy on his skin. Minhyuk had slipped a jar of thin soup and a worn book into Hyunwoo’s backpack, and Hyunwoo could feel the weight of them on his back.

He took Minhyuk’s hands in his own and said, “Thank you for everything. Seriously, I might not be alive right now if you hadn’t helped me.”

In a rare moment, Minhyuk was quiet. He didn’t say anything, just blinked and scrunched his eyebrows together like he didn’t understand something. Minhyuk did it again, as he did every time they said good-bye: his warms lips on Hyunwoo’s cool cheek, but this one lasted longer. His fingers crawled slowly up to Hyunwoo’s chest, clutching loosely at the fabric, and Hyunwoo could feel his eyelashes and his breath. He didn’t stop—kissing Hyunwoo’s jaw, his chin, each kiss careful and with purpose. “Minhyuk,” Hyunwoo needed to learn how to make his voice flat again, “I’m a soldier. I can’t.”

Minhyuk finally showed some softness to his face, as if he let go of something he’d been trying hard not to lose. His lips kept hitting the places that made Hyunwoo shiver, and his hands roamed up Hyunwoo’s neck. He stopped then, collapsed against Hyunwoo’s body, faces too close together. And he laughed silently, just something funny to himself. Hyunwoo could see the universe in Minhyuk’s eyes, and he just let Minhyuk hold onto him. “I don’t care,” The words came out as a whisper even though Minhyuk’s expression was strong. He looked down to gather his breath, and when he looked back up Hyunwoo saw something he’d never seen from Minhyuk, some sort of hunger or desperation. And Minhyuk pulled Hyunwoo down just a bit, matching his height, and repeated himself, “I don’t care.”

The feeling of a kiss was something so forgotten that Hyunwoo could hardly remember it. But when it was with Minhyuk, everything felt different anyway and Hyunwoo tried not to remember other kisses. He just concentrated on Minhyuk’s lips, latching onto his own one kiss after another. Minhyuk’s kisses were soft and needy, his head tilted slightly and his eyes closed. And Hyunwoo could finally touch him, finally know what the curve of his waist felt like or the space between his shoulder blades. He breathed Minhyuk in each time their lips parted, and everything was so Minhyuk: the smell he’d come to get used to, the innocence and sweetness of Minhyuk’s mouth.

And then it was done, and Minhyuk fell back and let his head hit the wall next to them. His lips were more red than usual, and Hyunwoo loved knowing he’d caused that. “Just—” Minhyuk took a deep breath and ran a hand through white hair—“Remember me, okay? And don’t get shot again.” His hand lingered on Hyunwoo’s arm, his smile weak.

Hyunwoo wanted more, wanted to taste Minhyuk and feel his skin, but they’d already crossed a terrible line. He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to be a soldier; he wanted to stay with Minhyuk, wanted to keep being human. “I won’t. Thank you.”

“I’m getting out of here, Minhyuk.”

Hyungwon nearly laughed at Minhyuk’s double-take. “You’re just—just leaving? Just like that?”

“Yeah,” Hyungwon lowered his voice to make sure Hoseok wasn’t listening, “Kinda miss the countryside. This is a small town and there’s already so much bull.”

Minhyuk nodded, but Hyungwon didn’t think he understood. “Where are you gonna go?” He’d been sad lately, behind his smile, and Hyungwon couldn’t figure out why.

“Out west. There are no troops out west; it’s almost like this damn war doesn’t exist.”

“You’ll miss us, right? Hoseok and me?”

He’d miss them both. And Kihyun, even if he yelled at Hyungwon for sleeping on the job. But it was hard to admit he’d miss Hoseok; it was easier to deny he ever would. “Nah. I’ll have cows and all that.”

Minhyuk just smiled. “I bet you’ll miss Hoseok the most. I bet if you ask, he’d go with you.”

Hyungwon would be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. But daydreaming wouldn’t get him anywhere. So he flicked Minhyuk’s arm and said, “Like hell I’d do that. I swear you’re insane sometimes.”

Neither of them got another word out before Kihyun walked past and muttered, “I’d love it if my lazy employees actually did their jobs for once.” Needless to say, serving food was the last thing on Hyungwon’s mind.

The rain seemed to be everywhere—batting against his small window, the door, rushing through the pipe outside. Minhyuk was worried about it seeping through the roof, although that would have been a bigger problem for the tenant upstairs. He tried not to think about it, but the storm raged on without any sign of letting up.

It was because of the rain’s volume that Minhyuk nearly missed the knock on his door. He felt sympathy for any poor soul caught outside in weather like that, and Minhyuk sprinted to the door as quickly as he could.

He’d barely closed it before he was pulled into a tight embrace, almost spoiled by how soaked-through the other man was. Minhyuk knew it was Hyunwoo without even looking; it was the way he held Minhyuk, strong yet gently. “Hyunwoo,” Minhyuk’s hands found Hyunwoo’s chest, distancing them slightly.

Hyunwoo didn’t reply for a moment, simply gathering Minhyuk back in his arms. Minhyuk didn’t appreciate how wet his clothes were getting, but he wanted to touch Hyunwoo all the same. “I just—I needed to see you.” His voice was lower than usual, more raw, and it made Minhyuk shiver. “I didn’t know where else to go.” He cupped Minhyuk’s face with large hands and barely hesitated before kissing him deeply.

It was only the second kiss they’d shared, but it felt like the thousandth—Hyunwoo slid his hands down to Minhyuk’s hips and they worked out a comfortable pattern of kissing, breathing, gasping. Minhyuk’s head hit the back of the door and all the rain sounds were drowned out and replaced with Hyunwoo. He was getting used to the feeling of Hyunwoo—the feeling of another man’s hands on his body. Hyunwoo kissed with all the confidence of a soldier, passionately, spoiling Minhyuk with touches and teeth and tongue.

He was tense; Minhyuk could feel Hyunwoo’s stress leaking into every kiss. Minhyuk wanted to make Hyunwoo forget, make him relax and make him fall in love. He didn’t know what had happened to change Hyunwoo like this, so frenzied and bold, but Minhyuk was determined to replace it with memories of soft touches and passionate kisses.

The excitement seemed to catch up with both of them and they broke apart somehow, still contented by small pecks and caresses. Minhyuk laughed a bit breathlessly, “You sure you’re okay? I wasn’t expecting, well, this.”

Hyunwoo kissed him again, lazily, lips trailing over Minhyuk’s too lightly. “Don’t worry about me.” They couldn’t seem to get close enough, but they kept trying.

“I can’t help it. Talk to me,” Minhyuk buried his face in Hyunwoo’s neck.

And Hyunwoo sort of shuddered, collecting his words, passing his fingers through Minhyuk’s hair. “Before, you asked if I’ve ever—if I’ve ever killed anyone. I went patrolling. And there was this man…” he took a deep breath, “I’m not a murderer. But he wanted me dead, Minhyuk. I—I had to.” He looked so shaken; all Minhyuk could do was hold him.

“You’re not,” Minhyuk whispered, “You’re not a murderer and you’re not dead. You’re here. Relax,” he tried out a smile, “Just stay for a while.”

So Hyunwoo did. Minhyuk took him up on the roof, the rain just drizzling on them, and they watched the stars together again, like they had weeks ago when things were easier in the world. And it was like something out of the novels Minhyuk read so often—kissing on the roof with stars around them—but they did anyway. And when Hyunwoo left him before dawn with a sweet, lingering kiss, he promised he’d be back.

It was the first time Kihyun had closed Mon Café since he’d gotten terribly sick three years ago.

Hyungwon was supposed to open, and when Kihyun arrived, the restaurant was closed and no one was there. That day, Minhyuk was the only one who showed up to work. Even Hoseok, who never missed a shift in his life, didn’t come in.

He asked Minhyuk about it. Just a casual, ‘You wouldn’t know where Hyungwon and Hoseok are, do you?’ and at first, Minhyuk really didn’t know. He shook his head with that clueless expression he often got. But when Kihyun said, ‘Strange, they usually come in if they have a shift together,’ it was like watching Minhyuk put a puzzle together. He still denied it, but Kihyun was positive Minhyuk knew something.

“Don’t bother showing up tomorrow,” Kihyun had never said those words before, “You’re not fired, don’t worry. It’s just that only a few people eat here anymore.”

And Kihyun had a feeling he wouldn’t be seeing Hyungwon or Hoseok for a very long time.

It happened like this, at least three times a week: Hyunwoo would sneak out of the barracks with some lame excuse, show up at Minhyuk’s apartment, and they’d be lovers until sunrise. Not the soldier and civilian, just Minhyuk and Hyunwoo—two people in love.

Hyunwoo became obsessed with the details of Minhyuk: the way his teeth stuck over his lip when he smiled, his endless supply of energy, how easily Hyunwoo’s hands fit on the planes of his skin. He sought Minhyuk out on the worst of nights, nights filled with violence or anger. And Minhyuk made him feel like a person again, always managing to take away his tension and turn up his mouth in a smile.

Minhyuk, too, was captivated by Hyunwoo: the gentleness trapped inside him, his selfless way of loving, and just in every move he made.

The soldier, if he’d barely been one before, was at that point reduced to nothing more than a veteran. He was young, but Hyunwoo’s part in the war was finished. He’d given it up, realized what he could have instead: a simple, slow life, where people didn’t judge him by the uniform he wore.

Everything felt like a secret, and it filled Minhyuk with an incredible adrenaline. He’d kiss Hyunwoo with the blinds shut, lights off. They’d lose their clothes and lose their minds, and Minhyuk would drown himself in Hyunwoo’s whispers of, ‘I want you. Always have.’ And Minhyuk knew a long time ago that he’d give anything to that man.

But it only lasted for the night. When morning came, Hyunwoo would leave and become someone else, someone Minhyuk hardly knew. Minhyuk was stuck with thoughts of Hyunwoo’s warmth and his quiet laugh and the way his embrace felt. He wanted to feel like that forever.

Maybe he could.

Hyunwoo tried not to wake Minhyuk as he slipped out from beneath the sheets. But unfortunately, he’d never been good at stealth, and when Minhyuk rubbed his eyes like that it was impossible to leave. “Go back to sleep,” Hyunwoo whispered. He pulled a blanket more securely over Minhyuk’s shoulders. It was early and quiet; the sun hadn’t risen, the moon casting pale blue shadows on Minhyuk’s face. “I have to get to the barracks before my officer realizes I left.” He’d made it past the soldiers on duty with a bit of persuasion, but his officer wouldn’t be so forgiving.

Minhyuk, despite how tired he looked, managed to tug Hyunwoo back on the mattress. “No, you don’t,” he mumbled, “Stay here.”

He couldn’t resist Minhyuk; it took every ounce of willpower he had. Hyunwoo leaned in briefly and kissed the crown of Minhyuk’s head. “I really have to go. But I’ll be back when I can.”

That wasn’t good enough for Minhyuk, considering the way he slung his leg over Hyunwoo’s and lazily gripped the fabric of his tee-shirt. “Just stay,” It seemed to be the sleep talking, but Hyunwoo’s heart still stirred at his words. Minhyuk’s lips found Hyunwoo’s neck and chest—anywhere he could reach with minimal effort. And then he started saying things that made Hyunwoo think he was still asleep: “Do you ever want to just stop being a soldier?”

“Yes,” Hyunwoo answered, “But I really can’t do that now. I’ll be late if you don’t let go of me.”

Minhyuk just pulled him tighter, closer to his body. Everything was warm and Hyunwoo did want to stay. So he wound his arm around Minhyuk’s waist and decided to give it five more minutes. “Hyunwoo.”

“Yeah?”

The man nestled his head into Hyunwoo’s shoulder. “Run away with me.”

Hyunwoo smiled. Minhyuk’s eyes were still shut. “Yeah? And where would we run away to?” He rubbed patterns into Minhyuk’s back with his thumb.

“The West. I hear it’s all peaceful there.” It was then that Hyunwoo realized Minhyuk was wide awake—and dead serious.

“You’ve really thought about this? You’re not kidding?”

Minhyuk opened his eyes and let a grin spread onto his face. “Of course.” He started laughing, like the idea was just ridiculous enough to be real. Minhyuk’s fingers curled around Hyunwoo’s and he gave a quick peck to Hyunwoo’s mouth. “Run away with me, Hyunwoo! We’ll stay in bed all day and look at the stars all night, and everything will be safe.”

When Minhyuk said it, his plan sounded like heaven. Maybe the life he’d wanted to re-start could be found in a peaceful place, with the man lying in front of him. Hyunwoo thought of the spare clothes he had sitting in his backpack at the door, and the extra toiletries in Minhyuk’s bathroom. And he said, “We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

He fell back asleep, holding Minhyuk tightly, waiting for the sunrise.

And that's it! Kind of an ambiguous ending, but I'm happy with this fic. This was looooong holy like when did I type this? Anyway I hope you all liked it! Please let me know what you think!