“Jisoo, please. You know I can’t survive in the morning without two cups of whole-grain cereal-”

“-One cup of grass-fed skim milk, four strips of organic turkey bacon- extra turkey- and two cranberry lemon muffins with almond butter on top. I know, Junhui. Who do you think’s been making your breakfast for the past three years? A magical breakfast fairy?”

“Yes.” Junhui rests his chin on Jisoo’s chest, batting his eyelashes. “And this fairy is wonderful at his job.”

“This fairy should get paid.” Jisoo flicks Junhui’s forehead gently. “Also, he doesn’t fall for flattery, so you’d better give up.”

“He’s the prettiest fairy,” Junhui coos, brushing Jisoo’s bangs out of his eyes, “and I love him very much.”

Jisoo flushes a dark red and grabs a pillow to smush against his own face. “You can’t say things like that!”

“Who says I’m talking about you? I’m referring to the magical breakfast fairy.”

“You .”

Chuckling, Junhui pries Jisoo’s fingers off of the pillow. “I’m just kidding. You’re my magical breakfast fairy.”

“I know.” Jisoo sticks his tongue out. “Stupid.”

Junhui sighs and it falls across Jisoo’s cheekbones and flutters his bangs. “You know why I love this fairy?”

“Because he makes you breakfast?”

“No, because he sings Breakeven when he waters the plants, and cries during reruns of Animal Rescue, and eats Cheetos like a bunny on steroids.”

Jisoo reaches for the pillow to hide his face again, but Junhui grabs his arm.

“You know why else I love this fairy?”

“W-why?”

“Because he’s willing to get me organic turkey bacon from the supermarket on a Saturday night.”

A pillow collides with Junhui’s face. “Screw you.”

“Love you,” Junhui says sweetly, watching Jisoo grab the keys from the kitchen table. “Can you get the one with extra pepper, babe?”

“I’m not your babe,” Jisoo calls back, but his lips are twitching up at the corners and damn it, Wen Junhui has him wrapped around his finger.

And that’s how Jisoo ends up in the poultry aisle at midnight, at the twenty-four-hour Whole Foods near their apartment. It’s been three years since he moved back to Los Angeles and he still gets lost in Whole Foods because it’s just so confusing- and because the flood of soccer moms during the afternoons is overwhelming. Luckily, it’s near midnight, so there are no middle-aged women with highlights trying to steal the seasoned chicken from his shopping cart.

He grabs a few other things, like strawberry cough drops because Junhui’s sensitive to mint, and a bag of mandarins because Junhui likes to speak to them in his native language, and fat-free Neopolitan ice cream because it’s summer and it’s hot and he hates roasting slowly in their stupid small apartment.

It’s expensive because it’s Whole Foods, and Jisoo feels himself slowly dying inside as he hands over his credit card. As a university student with crippling student loans, he really can’t afford this, but screw it- it’s for Junhui.

The straps of the grocery bag dig into the palm of his hand as he walks through the parking lot. Just a few more blocks and he’ll be back home, snuggled into the safety of his warm bed-

“Jisoo!”

Damn it. It’s probably Phil from next door, but Jisoo isn’t in the mood to get stuck in a forty-minute conversation about the failing economy. It’s midnight; why can’t these people just let him get home?

Wait.

They’d called him ‘Jisoo’. And as far as he knows, nobody calls him Jisoo except for Junhui, and his family and friends back in Korea. It’s always just ‘Joshua’, or ‘Josh’- never-

“Jisoo! Wait!”

“Hey, it’s probably not him, just let the dude go.”

“No, Han, I swear it’s him! Look at those neon orange Nikes.”

“God, Cheol, everyone wears those flashy Nikes these days.”

Jisoo’s blood runs cold and he freezes mid-step, grip loosening on his groceries. .

“Jisoo? Hey, it’s us!”

He’s a little afraid to turn around, but when he does, he feels like the air has been forcibly pressed out of his lungs.

Under the yellow glow of the parking lot streetlight are two familiar faces- familiar, yet different. Faces he saw for the first eighteen years of his life. Faces he’d known and loved well. Faces he didn’t think he’d ever see again- until now.

Jeonghan’s face and shoulders have filled out a little more. His arms are thicker, Jisoo notes with a tinge of envy. He’s no longer the lanky eighteen-year-old that saw Jisoo off at the airport. Seungcheol looks a little older at twenty-two, with emerging smile lines and stubble, and bangs longer than they’ve ever been. Jisoo remembers running his fingers through that hair. His hand twitches.

“It is you!” Seungcheol’s entire face lights up as he grins. “Dude, it’s been a while!”

Jeonghan’s a little more reluctant, trailing behind Seungcheol as they walk over. He stays silent, choosing to let Seungcheol do the talking- just as Jisoo remembers. But Jeonghan had never given Jisoo the silent treatment before. It stings a little.

“It has,” Jisoo agrees numbly. “It’s cool to see you guys again.”

“Wow, we didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Yeah, um.” Jisoo scratches the back of his head. “I live here. Not in the Whole Foods. I mean, like, in L.A.”

Seungcheol’s eyes darken in confusion for a moment. “Well- yes, I know. I just mean, uh, Los Angeles is a big place.”

“Right, yes,” Jisoo says quickly, feeling stupid. “Uh, what are you guys doing here in America?”

“We’re on vacation. We just visited Disneyland and, uh, yeah. Anyways, how have you been?”

“Oh, um. I’ve been good. Yeah.”

“Yeah? How’s uni going for you? You’re majoring in, um, neuroscience?”

“Oh yeah, it’s great. How’s, uh, university for you?”

“Great! I actually just got accepted into pharmacy school. Oh, and Jeonghan here has really been getting some great modelling gigs lately.”

“Oh, wow. Modelling.” The words feel dry and dull on Jisoo’s tongue. “That’s cool.”

Jeonghan smiles at him, though it looks more like a grimace. “Yeah.”

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Jisoo clutches his groceries to his chest- the bottom is starting to strain against the weight of the both the turkey bacon and the chicken . What a fowl situation, the voice in his head says, sounding suspiciously like Junhui. Jisoo bites his lip to keep from laughing.

“I like your jacket,” Jeonghan says suddenly.

In his rush to get Junhui’s stupid turkey bacon, Jisoo had thrown on whatever was draped over the arm of the couch. He’s lucky it’s not his Pororo bathrobe, but what he’s wearing right now isn’t any better- it’s Junhui’s signature denim jacket, and it’s a little oversized on him, drooping down and exposing his neck to the cool midnight air. Jisoo shivers and hugs the groceries tighter to his chest.

“Thanks. It’s, uh, it’s my roommate’s, actually. I like your, um, outfit, too.” Jeonghan looks effortlessly good, with a white scarf over a leather jacket over a navy sweater over a white button-up over a- well, just a crap-ton of layers.

With a sudden rush of insecurity, Jisoo looks down at Junhui’s stupid jean jacket, and his own ratty gray sweatpants- no, nevermind, that’s also Junhui’s, damn it. Well, if he knew that he was going to meet up in the parking lot of a Whole Foods with his ex-best friends, one of which is apparently a model now, he wouldn’t have dressed in his roommate’s ty clothes.

It’s not a surprise that Jeonghan’s a model now; he’s always been the fashionable one, even in middle school. While Jisoo and Seungcheol were stuck in that phase that every Asian teenage boy went through, of black gym shorts and graphic t-shirts that said things like ‘math is just as gross as cooties’, Jeonghan was sporting snapbacks and varsity jackets. Back then, Jisoo couldn’t understand why his ‘I get all the gurlz’ hoodie was attracting less girls than Jeonghan’s button-up collared shirt. Whatever; they both turned out gay anyways.

“Oh, your roommate?” Seungcheol nods. “How’s that going?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s- it’s great.” The ice cream’s starting to strain against the bag too, and the plastic is making this really quiet wailing sound in protest. Jisoo has never identified more with a plastic bag.

“Really? What’s his name?”

“Um, Junhui. Yeah. He’s from China. Exchange student.”

“Oh, wow. Exchange student. Cool. What’s he studying?”

“Same as me, neuroscience.”

“Wow. Sounds cool. Maybe we can meet him sometime?” Seungcheol says. “We’ll be staying at Jeonghan’s aunt’s for a few weeks.”

“Sounds great,” Jisoo chokes out. His mouth suddenly feels like sandpaper- not because of the ramen-and-egg abomination that Junhui tried to feed him three hours ago, but because he sees Jeonghan’s hand slipping into Seungcheol’s and tugging lightly. Seungcheol turns to look at him questioningly, and Jeonghan gives him a look.

That look could mean anything, but judging by the small glare that Seungcheol sends back, it’s not a good thing. Suddenly feeling like he’s intruding on a private conversation, though no words are actually being said, Jisoo looks away.

“I’m going to grab a shopping cart,” Jeonghan mumbles.

“Well, we can do that later,” Seungcheol says pointedly. “We have plenty of time to do that after we catch up with Jisoo, right?”

“Well, I’m just saying-”

The plastic bag decides at this moment that it’s had enough, and starts tearing itself apart from the middle. Jisoo makes a pathetic move to grab the chicken before it falls, but he misses by a good length and is forced to watch it roll away from him. Sighing, he clutches the rest of the bag to his chest in a desperate attempt to save his other ty overpriced groceries.

“Oh, oh no,” Seungcheol says. “Do you need help? Here, I have a reusable bag in my trunk.” He jogs off, and Jisoo is left standing there trying to hold his bag and his life together as Jeonghan stares at him awkwardly.

Jisoo envies the chicken. It had enough strength to escape this awkward situation. Jisoo wishes he was a chicken .

Seungcheol jogs back with a cloth bag. It has a really cute penguin on the front, along with the words ‘If hapy is you, then hapy is penguin’. Well, the penguin will just have to suffer for a little longer, because Jisoo isn’t feeling particularily ‘hapy’ at the moment.

“Oh my god, Seungcheol, not that pink mess,” Jeonghan mutters, though it goes ignored.

“Here you go. Isn’t he cute?” Seungcheol holds out the bag, and Jisoo gratefully unloads the rest of his groceries into it, taking it from Seungcheol.

“Thanks. I’ll return it later.”

“Then we’ll definitely have to meet up,” Seungcheol says with a small smile.

“Yeah.” Uncomfortable, Jisoo looks away and realizes that he hasn’t picked up the chicken he dropped. He kneels down, but Jeonghan beats him to it, grabbing it and handing it over.

As Jisoo takes it, their eyes meet and god, past Jisoo used to think that that time on the Ladybug at Woop-Woop’s Rollercoaster Rockfest was the most terrifying thing to happen to him. Past Jisoo was a fool. Meeting his ex-friend’s eyes over a package of raw chicken in the parking lot of a Whole Foods beats that experience by a landslide.

Jeonghan breaks the eye contact quickly and stands up, leaving Jisoo to kneel on the concrete by himself with raw chicken in his hands. Flushing, he stands up as well, backing away slightly.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as soon as he finds his voice.

“No problem.”

And there it is- the greatest awkward silence of all time, interrupted only by the low drone of the malfunctioning streetlight and the sound of cars speeding by.

“Uh, well, I have to go,” Jisoo says after what feels like five hours. “My roommate might starve if I don’t get him these groceries.”

“Oh, we can drive you back,” Seungcheol says, but Jeonghan nudges him not-so-subtly.

“No, it’s fine. I live pretty close.”

“Well, it’s no problem for us.”

“No, really, it’s fine, Seungcheol. Thank you.”

Seungcheol walks up and puts a hand on his shoulder. Jisoo stares at it, not knowing quite what to do.

“Um…”

“I’ve missed you, a lot.”

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says warningly from behind him.

“No, don’t. Jisoo,” Seungcheol says, then stops. He nibbles on his lip for a good few seconds, then opens his mouth again. “Jisoo, I’ve really missed you. Can we- can we really meet up some time? Like, for dinner, or something?” Jeonghan is looking annoyed now, nudging Seungcheol again, but he’s getting ignored; Seungcheol’s eyes are locked with Jisoo’s in a pleading gaze.

It’s funny how you can spend eighteen whole years of your life with people and know more about them than their own parents do, but as soon as you spend three years away from them, they become total strangers.

“I know we didn’t part on the greatest terms,” Seungcheol says, and Jisoo physically flinches back; he didn’t need to remember that experience. “But we can start over, right? Start with a fresh slate.”

Jisoo looks at the two of them, really looks at them. He can picture them both three years ago, when he confessed to them- both of them- five days before he left for America, and got nothing but wide-eyed stares and a shaky voice telling him to get out, just get out, please. He can picture them, but they look so different.

Could they really reconnect? For a moment, hope surges in Jisoo’s chest. He thinks back three years ago, when every day was accompanied by Seungcheol’s smile and Jeonghan’s soft eyes. The very idea that they could go back to how they were- it’s tempting, and it’s something he’s longed for for three years. Maybe he still has a chance.

No. He knew he had no chance back then, and he knows he has no chance now. He sees their fingers link together; the way they sneak glances and share looks that only they seem to understand. It hurts to see it, but not as much as it did the first time. While it was a blinding stab in the heart three years ago, it’s dulled to a slight ache.

Seungcheol’s smile isn’t the same anymore. Jeonghan’s eyes don’t look at him the way they used to.

He takes a deep breath.

“Actually, Seungcheol- I’m sorry. We can’t. I can’t.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widen by a fraction of an inch. Seungcheol’s face is frozen in that pitiful expression, and Jisoo just wants to look away.

Yes, three years ago, he would have killed to talk to them for even one second. He never would have imagined turning them down, or even living without them. But then again, he wouldn’t have imagined that he’d wake up every morning with Junhui by his side and a cup of burnt ramen on his lap, and that it would be his paradise.

He didn’t know it three years ago, maybe not even three hours ago, but he’s over Seungcheol and Jeonghan. God, he would hate to ever admit it, but he’s happy with Junhui and his stupidly expensive breakfast demands. And the prospect of having Seungcheol and Jeonghan back in the picture doesn’t make Jisoo as happy as he though it would.

“I’m sorry if you wanted to patch things up, but I just, I don’t think it’ll work. It’s not healthy.”

“Can we at least exchange numbers?” Seungcheol asks quietly.

“I think we’d better not.” Jisoo shakes his head. “Just forget about me, okay?”

“Why?”

“Good luck to you both. Have a great stay in Los Angeles,” Jisoo says, already backing away. “Oh- and I’m stealing your penguin bag. Sorry.”

And before they say anything else, he’s gone, bolting down the street like he’s got the cops on his tail. Well, he did just steal a grocery bag.

As Jisoo nears his apartment, he can see Junhui waiting for him at the entrance, hands in his pockets. He has this excited smile on, though it quickly slips from his face as he spots Jisoo’s expression.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong; what happened?” Junhui takes the bag of groceries in one hand and Jisoo’s hand in the other.

“I’m not sure I want to talk about it right now.”

Junhui studies him for a moment. “Wanna eat ice cream and binge-watch season 19 of Naruto Shippuden?”

“You still have the CD? I thought you used it as a donut template.”

“And that’s why we’re pirating it.”

“Nice and legal.”

“Just like me.” Junhui winks and squeezes his hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“You criminal,” Jisoo mutters, but he’s grinning. “You’re going to set the police on us.”

“I’m pretty sure you did that when you ripped the entire sixteen seasons of Bleach off of some shady website and filled up the memory of my computer.”

“Hey, I bought you a new hard drive.”

“Yeah,” Junhui admits grudgingly. “That was nice of you.”

Jisoo just smiles and holds on tighter to Junhui’s hand. It’s calmingly familiar; Jisoo can feel the three lines on Junhui’s palm, and the little rough patch that he got from burning himself while making ramen, which Jisoo had warned him not to do alone.

“Whatever happened, it’s gonna be okay,” Junhui mutters to him as he pushes open the door to the building. “You’ve got me, and food, and anime. You’ll be okay.”

“I only need the last two, really.”

“Hey! Brat.”

“But I’m your brat.”

“No, you’re my magical breakfast fairy.”

“Magical unpaid breakfast fairy.”

“I’ll pay you some day, cutie. I hope.”

“Junhui?”

“Yeah?”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Hmm… yeah, but can you tell me again?”

“Psh. Love you, Junhui.”

“I love you, too.”

“By the way, where did you get that cute pink penguin bag?”

“I stole it from my ex-friend after I dropped the chicken .”

“...Sorry, what?”

“It’s a long story.”