The funeral was held on a Sunday, under the blossoms of cherry trees in a graveyard just south of Seoul. The mourners surrounded the coffin dressed in black, his mother clutching her tissues to her chest, his brothers standing tall, trying their best to hold the sobs in.

Yongnam leant back against his car a hundred metres away and watched. He wore a grey felt overcoat over his black NIS suit, and kept his hands tucked into his pockets to keep his fingers warm. Spring had come, crashing like a wave over Seoul in the days following Jooho’s arrest, but the late afternoon air was crisp, and the sunshine barely felt warm.

“How do they think he died?” Yongnam turned his head and looked down at Jongup, sitting half in the passenger seat of the car. His left leg was wrapped tightly in bandages, and his left arm in its sling was held up close to his chest. A crutch leant against the open door, and he kept his feet planted squarely on the gravel road, with eyes fixed on Park’s funeral. They couldn’t attend properly, of course, no point when it would be impossible to explain how they’d known the deceased.

“Motorcycle accident.” Yongnam said, after moment. “Something bad enough they couldn’t identify the body themselves, but that wasn’t his fault… to minimise the pain.”

The sight of Park’s mother crying like she was, his stony brothers, it embedded a pit rock hard deep in Jongup’s stomach. Surely, there must have been signs, and Jongup of anyone should have seen them early on, before Ahra’s death. The weight of the loss of those two lives was heavy on his shoulders, and he was going to live with that guilt for the rest of his.

“I should have figured it out.” With his good hand, Jongup rubbed across his forehead. He wasn’t wearing his NIS uniform, even if he’d wanted to it would hardly fit over the level of bandaging wrapped around his leg. Two bullets had hit his thigh, thankfully missing any arteries, but the third had gone right through his bicep and lodged its self in against a rib. Junhong had told him he’d been lucky, just a centimetre lower and it could have hit his heart. Turns out maybe Jooho hadn’t been such a good shot after all.

“If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.” Yongnam countered. Across the lawn, the funeral was finishing up, and he nudged Jongup’s good leg to get in the car, then rounded the vehicle to the drivers’ seat.

“Don’t be stupid.” Jongup scoffed and Yongnam chuckled.

“Could say the same thing to you.” When Jongup woke up after surgery, Yongnam had been in his room waiting. He’d said Junhong and Soojin had done a good job, even though the patients they were used to were already dead, and he barely waited for the morphine to wear off before he started yelling. “I told you to use the gun if it came to it, and did you? No! You jumped in front of someone else’s gun!” Despite himself, Jongup had laughed.

“Where are we going?” He asked as they turned out onto the main road, heading back in towards the city.

“To get a drink.” Yongnam replied.

“Soojinnie said I can’t drink while I take those pain killers.”

“Nope.” Yongnam agreed, “That’s why you’re going to watch me drink.”

The sun was setting by the time they crossed the river, and on the horizon in front of them the sky was awash with peachy pinks, not a cloud to be seen. All the snow had melted in a matter of days, and already birds could be heard chattering amongst themselves, as their flocks returned home in time for summer. They crossed the bridge and turned off, down through the streets of industrial buildings by the river in Yongsan, until the car pulled up outside a bustling bar. The light inside was welcoming and the sound of chatter spilled out onto the pavement. Jongup had been there before, the day he’d met the unit.

“Hyung…” He said, as Yongnam pulled the keys from the ignition.

“It’s just a drink, Jongup.”

They locked the car and made their (really quite slow) way into the bar. Yongnam saw them first, through the crowd and din. All five members of the Unit were sitting at the same booth in the corner where they’d sat weeks before. Junhong was in against the window, Himchan was on the aisle, with Yongguk seated comfortably between them, his hand clearly resting on Junhong’s leg under the table while the doctor chatted comfortably with Daehyun and Youngjae seated opposite.

Yongnam held back to get them their drinks while Jongup approached the table, and it was the doctor who spied him first, his eyes lighting up as he greeted, “Hyung!” And then the rest turned towards him.

“Jongup!” Daehyun smiled, though eyed his arm and leg warily as the man hobbled towards the table on his one crutch, “how’s your leg?”

“Still there, thanks to the doc.” Jongup smiled. Yongnam set their drinks down and pulled over a chair for Jongup, who dropped down into it, while the elder slid into the booth beside Daehyun.

“I hope you’re not exerting yourself.” Junhong narrowed his eyes, to which Yongnam grinned.

“Oh, don’t you worry. He hasn’t been useful for a single moment of the last week.”

“Good.” Junhong nodded, then glanced between them. “It’s good to see you both.”

The sentiment was echoed around the table, and Jongup smiled, “It’s good to see you, too. Now that it’s all over.” And he meant it.

“God, it’s hard to believe it is.” Daehyun sighed, and Youngjae nudged the man with an elbow.

“Well it wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for you and your computer wizardry.” Daehyun waved his hand dismissively, but Yongnam nodded.

“Truly, all of you. Thank you.” He turned to look at each one of them, his eyes lingering a little on Himchan, before Junhong interrupted his thoughts.

“What’s going to happen to him now?”

“He’ll be tried. Two first degree murder charges are one thing, but the commissioner is eager to add conspiracy, treason, amongst other things. She hopes he’ll sing like a canary before going down.” Yongnam rubbed the pad of his thumb against the frosted glass of his schooner.

“And you’ll still be pursuing Golden Lotus?” Daehyun clarified, and Yongnam smiled.

“There’s still a lot of work to be done. But we found who killed Ahra and Park, and that’s worth celebrating.” He lifted his glass, and the others followed suit, all clinking their drinks together in unison.

“We actually have some… news.” Junhong said tentatively, once everyone’s mouths were full. All eyes turned towards him and Yongguk, whose arm moved to slip around their doctor’s shoulders and pull him in close. Yongnam had told Jongup how his brother had responded once he found out how close Junhong had been to the fray. Finally, the pair had been honest to themselves and each other about their feelings and it was a welcome development for everyone.

“We’re taking some time off.” Yongguk said.

“You?” Yongnam asked, incredulously, and a thumping sound that rattled their glasses signified Yongguk had given his twin a kick under the table.

“We’re going to Canada. Starting in Vancouver and making our way over to Montréal, to see my parents.” Junhong’s cheeks flushed as he turned to look at his partner. The adoration radiating from his eyes was a perfect replacement for the longing held there before.

Daehyun and Youngjae both responded enthusiastically to the idea of time off. They both also had friends and families they had neglected far too long, and they’d deserved some time for themselves.

“And what about you, Himchan?” Yongnam turned his gaze to his brother’s off-sider and gestured towards Jongup, who was taking a long sip of his sparkling water. “This one will be out of service for a good few weeks, so I could use someone I trust. Fancy a stint in the NIS while your boss is traipsing around North America?”

Himchan laughed, “I don’t think so. Now I know time off is an option, I might have a go at it myself.”

“Don’t poach my staff in front of me, please.” Yongguk gave his brother a look, and Yongnam winked at him.

“Another drink, Jongup?” Youngjae asked, as Jongup drained the last few drops. He shook his head, the day had worn at him.

“No, no, thank you. I might actually head home. It’s been a long day and-“ He moved his left arm slightly to signify that he was still recovering from surgery.

“I’ll drive you.” Himchan said, taking Jongup by surprise.

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

Himchan wasn’t parked far away, and he patiently matched Jongup’s slow pace and helped him into the car. The roads were already emptying after peak-hour, and they were quick to make it out onto the main road bathed in the suns dying light, and the comfortable silence between them.

“I never thanked you.” Himchan said after a while, and Jongup glanced over towards him.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“You took three bullets for me.” The elder rebutted. Jongup just shrugged and turned to look out the window. A flock of rooks were flying high above the river, beating their wings against the lifting breeze.

“So what are you going to do, now you have time to yourself?” Himchan asked.

“I think… I think I’m going to spend some time with my brothers, and see my mum and dad. It’s been too long.” Jongup admitted.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jongup saw Himchan smile. “I’m sure they’d really like that.” He said, and started drumming the same rhythm on the steering wheel he had in Busan. All those weeks ago.

“What about you?” Jongup asked, and turned to properly look at him. The inside of the car was mostly dark, but his skin was still glowing in the warm light of what was left of the sun. Jongup hadn’t let himself really look at Himchan since Busan, before they’d made it to the warehouse, so he allowed himself a moment to really take him in.

“I don’t know yet.” Himchan replied. The car turned off the main road and into the tangle of residential streets, around the mountain, into the valley weaving between apartment buildings so tall they obscured the sky.

“I’m sorry.” Jongup said finally. “For the lying, for the arguments, for the way it all went down.”

“Yeah.” Himchan cracked a small smile, “Me, too.”

“Yongnam gave me your file, the day we found the phone. He told me some things that happened in your service and-“ He in a deep breath, continued, “he told me that he knew I had feelings for you. That he wanted me to know about your past, so neither of us got hurt.”

For a long moment Himchan was silent. The drumming rhythm stopped, and his lips twisted as he thought, then said, “And what did you think?”

“I didn’t read it.” Jongup replied, “He told me about the operation on the mountain, and the way you saved Yongguk, but I didn’t go any further. I thought I owed you that much.”

“Thank you.” Himchan said, and he really meant it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jongup watching him like he was trying to memorise his face in case he’d never see it again and he had to ask: “Was he right?”

Jongup frowned, “about what?” The car slowed down, and pulled in beside the entrance to Jongup’s building. The white electric light from the lobby was bright and clinical, and compared to the warmth of the car, it was uninviting.

Finally, Himchan turned, looked back at him. “Do you have feelings for me?”

“Yeah.” Jongup said, before he could stop himself. “I guess I do.”

He couldn’t make it upstairs on his own, and Himchan helped him walk through the lobby to the lift, then down the hall to the front door of his apartment. He input the code and used his right hand to hold the door open as he turned back.

“Thanks for the lift.” He said, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.

“Any time.” Himchan replied. He didn’t turn to go, and for a long moment they just looked at one another. “For the record…” he started, then paused. I have feelings for you, too, he wanted to say. In another life, he would have closed the distance between them and taken Jongup in a kiss, asked if he could stay, asked to never have to say goodbye but there was a space between them now that he didn’t know he could cross. He was afraid of what would happen if he did. So the words petered out, and Himchan just shook his head to dismiss them before they cleared his lungs.

“Come in.” Jongup pleaded, in a voice that called him home, “Come in with me.”

Himchan hesitated, he looked into the apartment just over Jongup’s shoulder. They both knew what it would mean if he did, that this was the point of no return, like Caesar crossing the Rubicon. The die is cast, he’d said, alea iacta est. And Himchan thought that maybe, just maybe, it was time to take a chance at happiness.