Jiwon had lived with his mother and father in America from when he was six to ten, moving back to Korea with his mother when his father turned abusive toward them after losing his job. Idle and depressed his father took it out on his poor mother, blaming her for forcing them to move and abandon his old job.

He met Hanbin and Junhoe in school the year he moved back and they turned him from a shy, troubled kid who had difficulty speaking the language and keeping up with the customs into the person he was now. They became like a home to him when he felt he had none; spoke to him in a language which didn’t make him feel small. Allowed him to become himself again.

At the centre of it all was Hanbin. When his mother moved back to America to take care of her father, Jiwon ended up living with Hanbin’s family until he moved in with his uncle - who had since moved back to America for the time being and left Jiwon with his house. Whenever his father showed up Hanbin was there to protect him. Back in school if he couldn’t understand something Hanbin explained it to him without making him feel stupid.

They were - still - the most important people in his life, and leaving without them seemed terrifying. Which was why, when he received a call from his mother asking him to move back to the States, telling him that he’d find a better job there and would be able to spend time with his family, he hesitated. He said he’d get back to her, hung up and lay on his bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, trying to imagine a world without his friends. A world without Hanbin.

A world where Hanbin would be almost entirely alone. Could he leave him when he was so fragile? He needed his help more than ever.

There was only one person to ask. Only one person who’d tell him how it is. The only person Jiwon knew who said exactly what he thought, not because he didn’t care, but just because he was that oblivious. And he knew exactly where to find him.

***

Jiwon found Junhoe playing catch with his dog on top of his apartment complex, singing What's Love Got To Do With It at the top of his lungs. Jiwon hated that this didn’t surprise him. Tina Turner, what next? He jolted when Junhoe unconsciously answered his question, somehow managing to transition into Red Flavour… the obvious follow up.

“Yo, June.” He tried, coming over to stand beside him. He didn’t seem to notice and just kept singing. “June!” Finally he turned around, smiling awkwardly when he took in who it was.

“Heyyyy, hyung.” He then looked around almost instinctively. “Where’s Hanbin?”

Jiwon frowned, slightly hurt. “I do actually exist without him. Sometimes.” When Jiwon thought about it, Junhoe wasn’t exactly in the wrong; he rarely did anything with Junhoe without Hanbin around. The reason for that ought to be pretty evident by now.

If Junhoe could tell he was joking it didn’t show. “I know, I know. What’s up?” Jiwon nearly cringed at his awkward tone of voice. Why can’t we function like normal friends without Hanbin? Junhoe was shifting back and forth uncomfortably now, clearly waiting for an equally awkward response. Hanbin please save me.

“Uhh, I kinda wanted to ask ya about summin’.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Yeah…”

They stood there for a while, avoiding eye contact. Junhoe’s dog was now running around in circles but neither of them were paying attention; they were too busy pretending to look at anything but each other.

“So…” Junhoe finally broke the silence, unsurprisingly. Back in high school, if the class had been working in silence he’d be the first to break it. Jiwon wondered if he was allergic.

“Oh, right.” Jiwon scratched the back of his neck. “Wanna go get ramen?”

Junhoe cocked his head in confusion. “I mean, sure, but you could’ve just texted me?”

“No, no, I mean I’ll ask you whilst we eat? Yeah? Maybe…?”

“Oh sure, sure.” Junhoe turned to beckon his dog and Jiwon had never wanted Hanbin around as much as at that moment.

***

“Ramen’s good.”

“Mm.”

Ten minutes later they were sat in a shabby ramen restaurant round the corner from Junhoe’s apartment. Jiwon watched him feed his dog bits of chicken under the table; a whisper of a smile on his face, unbeknownst even to him. He felt better now they were there. What he was about to talk to Junhoe about seemed less daunting now he was in such a familiar place. And ramen made everything better.

The smile lingered on his face as he remembered all the meals he’d spent there with Hanbin and Junhoe, all the way from elementary school to high school; from when Hanbin visited from university all the way to when he managed to drag himself out of bed to keep his other idle friend company at 2 in the afternoon on a Tuesday, sending photos of their food to annoy Jiwon at work. And then all of a sudden his fond thoughts turned bitter. The familiarity became a burden when he thought of the fact that some of the best times of his life had been spent in this restaurant, and he may never return. One particular occasion from high school suddenly came to mind as his thoughts darkened, back from the first time an opportunity to leave had arisen.

6 years earlier

Jiwon sat picking at his ramen, watching Hanbin and Junhoe bicker over something stupid. Well, Jiwon didn’t know what they were throwing utensils at each other over - he had zoned out whilst world war three was beginning - but he assumed it was something stupid. It almost always was. Actually, come to think of it, Jiwon didn’t remember a single time they’d fought over something important. One time Junhoe killed Hanbin in a video game when they’d been on the same team and Hanbin hadn’t spoken to him for a week. Actually, that might have been last week. There was also that one time they got really drunk in the park and Hanbin had thrown up all over Junhoe’s favourite coat and Junhoe had made him buy him a new one.

Whatever, he was glad for the distraction. He’d thought it would be easier to tell them, but it felt like every time he went to speak there was cotton wool stuffed down his throat and he couldn’t form the words. It felt like he was drowning in his confession. Well, I’ll just have to cough it up then…

He coughed. “Guys…?” They ignored him, and Jiwon had to duck to avoid an empty cup very poorly aimed at Junhoe’s head. “Guys! You’re getting food everywhere.”

They both glared up at him and somehow managed to tell him to “ off” in unison. Jiwon was beginning to wonder if they had forgotten who they were supposed to be arguing with. Hanbin then punched Junhoe in the arm to which Junhoe responded by jamming a chopstick into Hanbin’s leg and Jiwon ceased wondering.

“Can you just stop being kids for like two seconds? I actually wanted to tell you guys something.”

“What?” Hanbin asked around a mouthful of ramen; only just managing to push the single word into coherence.

Jiwon stared at a small stain on the ceiling, fiddling with his hands. When did they get so sweaty? I don’t usually sweat! He pulled his ring off and put it back on again several times. Okay, I really need to talk. Come on, Jiwon. You’ve destroyed Kim Hanbin in Tekken, you can tell him that you’re moving back to the States. He’ll probably react the same way… Well, I don’t know if he’ll go as far as to attempt to smother me with a cushion again but I wouldn’t put it past- okay just hurry up and ing say it or I swear-

“I’m moving back to the States.” The words slipped out and lingered in the air; the silence that followed broken only by the rather comical timing of Junhoe dropping the chopstick he’d been hitting Hanbin with.

Hanbin stared at him for a few moments, his face totally blank, before it suddenly darkened.

“Bin-”

Hanbin didn’t say a word, simply got up and left, leaving Jiwon wishing he’d simply punched him in the face instead.

The two of them sat in silence for a few long moments, Jiwon catching breath he hadn’t known he’d lost; Junhoe staring into space. And for the first time Jiwon could remember, it wasn’t Junhoe who broke the silence.

“What am I gonna do, June?”

Junhoe simply stared at him. There was no anger in his eyes, just sadness.

“What am I gonna do?” He repeated, uselessly. “He’s never gonna forgive me.”

“Don’t go.” Junhoe said, simply.

So he didn’t.

Later that night, Jiwon went to find Hanbin to tell him he wasn’t leaving. He hadn’t answered his calls, and he obviously hadn’t returned home, since they lived together. His parents weren’t home. No one was asking where he was or why he hadn’t returned. Jiwon almost found that sadder than his absence. Hanbin deserved people who cared about his whereabouts and his well being. He only had two of them, and one had just told him he was leaving him. Observing the lonely world he lived in, Jiwon hardly blamed him for being upset.

He called Junhoe to ask if he knew where Hanbin had gone, and his friend replied telling him there were only two places he could be. Jiwon knew exactly which he meant. One was the ramen place, which seemed unlikely at that moment.

And so, ten minutes later found himself on the roof of Junhoe’s apartment building. He caught sight of Hanbin almost immediately. He was stood by the edge, smoking like the angsty little he was and staring into nothing, the breeze ruffling his already-unruly hair.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop smoking? You’re seventeen and depressed, not forty five and divorced.”

Hanbin didn’t turn his head, as though he hadn’t even heard him. Yep, that’s my Hanbin. And then he answered softly, “I’m sorry.” Okay, that’s definitely not my Hanbin™.

“What?”

Hanbin turned around, letting the remainder of his cigarette slip from his grasp. “I’m sorry I left like that, hyung. It was ty.”

“Yeah, well…” Jiwon gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry too.” He held out his arms. “We good?”

Hanbin didn’t answer, just walked up to him and hugged him tightly. So tightly Jiwon tensed a little. He was used to Hanbin being needy but this was even more than usual. He really doesn’t want me to go…

“Hey, it’s alright.” He muttered, patting his friend’s back gently.

“I know it’s selfish but,” Hanbin mumbled into Jiwon’s chest, his voice muffled by his school jumper. “Please don’t leave me… I don’t know if I can do it witho