It was at moments like this – when Jiyong and him were lying down in a random motel in some part of the world – when Jiho remembered how things used to be.

Jiyong and him were looking at each other’s tattoos, telling or retelling the stories of how they’d gotten them. Jiyong already knew about all of Jiho’s because he had been present when he was getting them.

That’s right. Jiho hadn’t always been a delinquent. Before he’d met Jiyong, he’d had a different idea of what his life would look like. And he didn’t have a single tattoo.

Not one.

Jiho was snapped back to reality when Jiyong poked his hip.

“But that one’s my favourite,” he said.

Jiho glanced down and smiled fondly at Jiyong’s name tattooed on his hip. The older had Jiho’s name in the same spot.

“You always say that,” Jiho mumbled and rolled on top of Jiyong.

“It’s the truth.” Jiyong leaned in, but at first Jiho moved away, making the older chase him a bit until he allowed the kiss.

But Jiho wasn’t as responsive as he usually was. He was slipping away, into the past. When Jiyong pulled away, he cupped Jiho’s cheeks and pressed their foreheads together.

“Baby, I’m losing you,” Jiyong whispered.

“I’m just thinking,” Jiho said, just as quietly.

“What about? Is everything okay?”

Jiho nodded, but in the process their foreheads bumped. They pulled away from each other and broke into chuckles.

Jiyong sat up and pulled Jiho into his lap. “But seriously,” he said. “You seem distant.”

Jiho shook his head then rested it on Jiyong’s shoulder. “I was just thinking... Remember when we first met?”

Jiyong smiled and whispered, “Of course.”