Everyone, did you catch the first snow today? Will it be too forward of me to say that I did? Hehe. It fell so softly…just before sunrise. Yah…it was so beautiful.

There’s just…something…about the first snow that’s so special. It makes you believe that magic still exists and that anything can be possible.

I think I kind of felt that today. I haven’t seen the first snow in a long time but I did this morning and…I don’t know, it just kind of makes you feel like you’re being born again and that wishes can still come true. As adults we tend to forget things like that, and oftentimes I think we need to be reminded of the fact.

I guess the lesson of the first snow is you can always start again, no matter what. Whatever has happened is in the past, and during this time of year, it teaches us to remember that we can stop and take a rest with our loved ones. To pause. We have plenty to look forward to in the spring.

My heart feels so full. Haha! I hope yours is too, as we officially start this season. I hope your hands always have something warm to hold. If your days are looking a little bleak, I hope my little talk show is able to provide you with a bit of light. I will walk the path with you, don’t worry. Let’s keep warm together!

Here’s Little Star by Standing Egg to help kick us off.

--

When I first met you, I was dazzled.

When I first saw your smile, I held the whole world.

--

“Yah!”

Something hits the side of Eric’s head and he blinks. A blueberry is sitting on the countertop after having bounced off his skull. He turns, perplexed, and finds Minwoo glaring at him, his hands firmly planted on his hips. He watches as Minwoo waves his arms impatiently, gesturing at the chaos that’s currently the Wolf and Rabbit during the busiest lunch service of the year. Noise and color form a swirling chaos in his overstimulated mind.  

He thinks he’s dreaming as he watches Minwoo’s mouth move. His lips move faster than his words, like the flash of lightning before the rumble of thunder.

“Eric, what’s with you? I called for you at least twenty times!”

What indeed. Eric bites back a groan and the desire to sock Minwoo in the mouth for even asking. It’s not as if he doesn’t know. The past few days have found them nearly falling over themselves as the café’s patrons have quadrupled in number. Eric supposes it’s the turning of the seasons and probably a fair bit of luck; whatever it is, the Wolf and Rabbit is now the most popular café on the block, with more people entering at all hours than ever before. Although it’s excellent for business, the throngs of customers have also been a challenge for everyone’s endurance, especially his and Minwoo’s. Eric can already feel himself teetering on edge: it’s not the first time he’s zoned out in the middle of the shift, but it’s definitely the first time he’s done it standing up. Minwoo’s face is already blurring at the edges the more he stares. He distantly wonders if they’ll be able to survive until Christmas; he might end up dying from exhaustion before it even happens.

My love, my everything, an angel come down from heaven,

You stole my world and both my eyes.

Snatches of melody float above the café’s noise. The song playing on the speakers is the same one that Hyesung had played on his show some nights ago. Little Star, was it? Eric remembers listening to Hyesung mention experiencing the first snow on the show, the same night they had met up on the morning of. He had blushed so hard he thought his face had caught fire. He even considered chucking the radio out the window until he remembered it was technically Minwoo’s and he ran the risk of paying an obscene amount of money in case he damaged it.

The song now seems to have a hypnotic pull on him. He appreciates how soothing the melody is, and he unknowingly closes his eyes and sways to the beat, suddenly wanting nothing more than a few precious seconds to rest in the soft memory of a smile across from him in the snow…

“…are you listening? YAH! Eric!”

The sound of Minwoo rapping on the counter with his knuckles sound like gunshots. This time, Eric snaps to attention. Warmth floods his face as the tips of his ears flush red.

“You with me now?” Minwoo holds his palms out in a sarcastic waiting gesture. Eric frowns at him. Already, Hyesung’s face has disappeared from his mind’s eye. He quickly centers himself, ready to do whatever task it is Minwoo had come to bother him with.

“I’m going, I’m going already.” He needs to keep himself moving or else he’s going to fall asleep on his feet. Although he has no idea what it is Minwoo wants him to be doing, he can figure it out easily enough. The café runs like clockwork by now and the system they’ve set up is flawless, with help from the giant whiteboard they have up in the kitchen. He moves to do just that when Minwoo grabs his wrist and holds him steady, pinning him in place with a scrutinizing glare.

“Stop. If you were really paying attention, you’d know that Hyungrok has already started with the newer orders while you’ve been off in la la land.” Two lines furrow in the center of Minwoo’s forehead. He’s worried, but his patience is also running thin. The consideration he has for people in friendship doesn’t extend to business, and Eric muses absently that that’s perhaps the secret to the Wolf and Rabbit’s success. To his credit, Minwoo is meticulous and extremely tough when it comes to handling their business affairs. He's fair and puts everyone in line, Eric included, as necessary.

“Listen,” Minwoo lowers his voice, “I know you’re probably exhausted. If you’re in no condition to help run the café today, you can go ahead and take the day off. We’ve got enough staff on deck until the end of the shift and we can manage.”

The rebuke, no matter how gentle, feels like a slap to the face. Eric shakes his wrist loose, his temper suddenly rising. The world snaps back into focus with sudden and jarring clarity.

“I’m fine!” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s just been a tough week.”

And it has been, with him pulling extra hours at night to ensure they have enough of a supply for pastries and baked goods for the next day, while still parenting Andy and making sure he’s fed, washed, and watered at the right times. Eric doesn’t know when’s the last time he’s been able to sleep for more than 3 hours. He doesn’t even remember if he’s showered this morning. The only thing that’s top of mind is the memory of Hyesung’s voice whenever he accompanied Eric during the long, lonely hours when he stood between oven and kitchen counter, measuring hand beatings by the cadence of Hyesung’s monologues and kneading dough against the echoes of his laughter.

Little Star is still playing in the background, and it’s making his brain feel like mush. He resists plugging up his ears with his fingers.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Eric snaps. He wishes Minwoo would stop being so cryptic.

“Drifting off. What’s with you? Are you really just tired or is there something else?” Minwoo peers up at him, this time his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Eric resists the strong urge to shove him all the way to the other end of the café.

“Nothing!” His voice nearly breaks. Being confronted like this is making him feel like an errant schoolboy. And for what? It isn’t like he’s done anything wrong. “Back off.”

He knows Minwoo isn’t fooled, and it shows in the telltale tension in his shoulders, but now isn’t the time for confrontation. He sees as Minwoo silently decides to drop his investigation…for now. Damn it. His friend has always been astute, moreso now that he and Dongwan have the…situationship…they have. Eric swears to himself that he’d rather be dead than Minwoo figuring out something that he himself can’t even put into words yet.

“I still don’t think you’re up to finishing today. You were the walking dead this morning. You still are,” Minwoo chides him as he shakes his arm. “I mean it. Take the rest of the day off, Eric, and get some rest. I don’t need you in here while you’re not focused. You’re going to end up causing an accident, or be in one, whichever comes first. I’m not that keen on wiping blood off the floor.”

Even though he knows Minwoo is right, Eric can’t help but feel the blow against his pride. He’s worked at Michelin-star restaurants, for God’s sakes. He can handle the lunch crowd at a tiny café.

(He can handle working while nursing a little crush, God knows he first met Yumi across a restaurant…)

“I’ve had worse days,” he glares at his friend, unwilling to lose this battle. “I’ve got this.”

“No, you don’t.” Minwoo is equally unrelenting. “Give me your apron. You’re done for the day.”

“No!” Eric growls as Minwoo reaches for the bow that ties his apron tight around his waist. He jerks out of his reach and bangs his waist against the counter in the process, jostling several plates that have just been placed under the warmer and sending what feels like an intense electric shock deep into the marrow of his bones. He vaguely hears as Janghyuk yelps before the descent of an almighty crash—

“Eric! Jesus Christ!”

.

His senses clang to full wakefulness at the commotion, and Eric blinks, only to be greeted by the unholy mess he’s created. At least three platefuls of food have been ruined, with balsamic reduction and roasted peach slices now splattered and smeared across the tile. Janghyuk and Seungjae are already on their knees amongst the shattered crockery, while Jiwoon is bowing to the customers as he profusely apologizes for the chaos. A step away from him, Minwoo is tight-lipped and pale with what Eric can deduce as barely-restrained rage. The sliver of patience is gone and has been replaced with ire only being kept at bay by the presence of customers. Without a word, Minwoo reaches across and once more gets ahold of his wrist, his grip ironfisted this time. This time, Eric doesn’t resist as he’s dragged back behind the counter, closer to the kitchen where the customers can’t see.

“Get out of here, I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day.” Minwoo breathes hard through his nose like an angered bull, and Eric knows there’s no excusing himself this time. “Got it? I mean it, Eric. Leave right now.”

Eric unties his apron and hangs it up on the peg with no further argument. Confusion and shock have given way once more to the fatigue that’s been plaguing him and his knees tremble as he slowly backs his way out.

“Sorry,” he manages to say, because he has no idea how it all happened, only that his self-preservation instincts are kicking in and it’s telling him that he needs to be as far away from Minwoo and the café as much as possible, lest he become splatter on the floor himself. He’s never fumbled this badly in the kitchen before, ever. “I…I guess you were right. My head’s not really in the game today.”

The last few notes of Little Star are still playing, and Eric badly wants to unplug the speaker or wrench it off the wall.

Minwoo gives a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. “You think?” he says, looking ready to start another argument, but stops. “Look, I’ll pick up the kids and bring Andy home. Dongwan will be by later for Junjin,” he says instead. “You’d better not get run over going home or I’ll kill you myself.” His tone is still tinged with annoyance but the underlying motive is plain as day. Despite the evident anger, Eric knows Minwoo’s heart, and he knows that the shorter man’s capacity to care is one that he can never hope to match. Despite being his business partner, Minwoo is his friend and is just so decent. The realization that he will always be a far better friend to him than Eric has been fills him with a deep shame.

“Thank you,” Eric mutters, unable to find it in him to look his best friend in the eye. For a second, he contemplates on telling him about Hyesung and all the complicated emotions that come with that excess baggage, but a hand on his shoulder stills his tongue; Minwoo is already nudging him to turn before pushing him completely out of the kitchen.

“Get out of here before I fire you, you pest.” Minwoo grumbles. “I should, you know. For all the trouble you caused today. I'm taking that out of your pay, by the way. ’s sake, you’re a bigger handful than Andy, Junjin, and Dongwan put together.”

At this, Eric makes a face. “I detest being compared to your…whatever he is, if you must know.”

In response, Minwoo snaps a towel just inches from his nose.

“Too ing bad. Now out of my kitchen. Out. off. Bye bye. Good riddance. Get some ing sleep and show up tomorrow with your head screwed on properly, Eric, or I’ll kick your .”

--

Common sense should have led him back to his apartment, as Minwoo had suggested and likely expected. Had Eric been in possession of his full mental faculties, he would have undoubtedly done just that, as it was the most sensible option with him being half-delirious from lack of sleep, but hearing the song at the café had caused a surge of a stronger warring emotion in his chest, and before he can fully comprehend it, he finds himself having flagged down a cab and making his way across the city.

His phone is cool against his ear and his mind is blissfully blank as he listens to hushed ringing on the other line.

“Hello?”

Shin Hyesung picks up on the fourth ring, his voice thick and rough with sleep.

“Yah…Eric?”

He doesn’t sound as threatening as he usually does, and this is probably what propels Eric forward. That, or he’s completely lost the last few shreds of his sanity due to exhaustion and the dregs of adrenaline still coursing through his veins from the stunt at the cafe.

“Hyesung…sorry…are you busy?” His mouth seems to be running on autopilot which…is good, he supposes. His head is leaning against the cool glass of the window. The sensation soothes his overtired brain and, unsurprisingly, hearing Hyesung’s voice has the same effect. The synapses in his brain that had felt long-dead seem to burst to life in anticipation for more. He pulls himself up to sit a little bit straighter as he slowly feels himself become more awake and present in the moment.

“Am I busy…?” Hyesung clears his throat and Eric can hear the clattering of him rummaging through assorted items on his nightstand. “I was sleeping, what the …? What time is it?”

Eric is suddenly nervous. He’s playing with fire, he knows. He should hang up before Hyesung completely regains his senses and explodes. Eric has already determined that there’s a 99.9% probability of him getting cursed and threatened with a lawsuit within the next twenty seconds and he braces himself for the inevitable—

“Yah, Eric Mun.” This time, Hyesung sounds slightly more awake himself. “You don’t usually call. Is something wrong? Are you ok?”

Are you ok?

Eric releases the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding hostage between his ribs.  

“I’m just…” His heartbeat thrums in his ears as the world seems to tilt off-kilter. “Listen, can I come and pick you up?” He speaks quickly, before he loses his nerve. “You…you promised to treat me, right? Can I call in that favor now?”

He expects Hyesung to hang up, or to at least curse at him until he’s blue in the face before hanging up, and Eric would have been fine with that, would have accepted it as a deliverance of fate, and maybe then he could go home and get some sleep and forget he ever did such a stupid, reckless thing and—

“Okay,” Hyesung says, and Eric feels as his thoughts screech to a stop.

“…Okay?” he repeats dumbly. On the other line, Hyesung sighs.

“Might as well. I’m already up and I’m starving.” There’s a rustling of sheets and the tell-tale sound of joints stretching and cracking as Hyesung makes a noise between a groan and a yawn. “Ring the bell when you’re here. Mrs. Kim will let me know.”

His heart is beating a painful tattoo against his ribs and Eric is suddenly lightheaded. He realizes he had never expected for this venture to be successful.

“Yah, Eric Mun, you’d better be here in ten minutes or less or I’m leaving without you,” Hyesung warns, though his tone is light. Eric has already been on the receiving end of enough of Hyesung’s threats to know when one is baseless. Instinctively, his lips quirk into a smile.

“See you in a bit—” he says, before realizing Hyesung had already hung up seconds before.

--

It takes nine more minutes to get to UN Village, and by the time the cab drops him off in front of Hyesung’s house, Eric’s exhaustion has been entirely overtaken by giddiness. He’s wide awake as he rings the bell as instructed, hearing the soft chiming as it echoes inside the house. Hyesung appears not even a minute past, through the garage door that silently lifts and reveals him at the wheel of a sleek white Jaguar. He rolls his window down and gives Eric a lopsided smirk.

“Get in, loser,” he says, and Eric scoffs.

“You’re a show-off.” Eric retorts as he slides into the passenger seat, fumbling with his seatbelt in the process. He fights to keep his expression neutral; he doesn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if he has to compliment Hyesung’s car on top of everything else, or even show that he’s the slightest bit impressed. The car inside and out screams of utter luxury, with its butter-soft leather seats and a fully digital dashboard. The luxurious feel isn’t even marred by the presence of Junjin’s car seat in the back. In fact, it’s been incorporated so well that the car seat doesn’t even look apart from the interior, with it also having the same color leather and with SCJ embossed on the headrest.

God damn Shin Hyesung and his excellent taste. Eric is equal parts enthralled and annoyed.

“You’re welcome to walk, you ingrate,” Hyesung says, cutting into his thoughts. His voice is still a bit hoarse, and his eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses, which he fumbles with as he glances at himself in the mirror. He’s also only wearing a white hoodie and artfully-torn designer jeans, with his hair hidden underneath a baseball cap. It’s the least put-together that Eric has ever seen him and is a contrasting picture to the car’s opulence, but the sight still makes an odd warmth spread in his stomach. Eric knows himself enough to know that even if Hyesung had only been wearing a jumpsuit made out a of a shower curtain he still would have felt the same…

…. What?

“…I really wouldn’t have bothered if you hadn’t called but I haven’t eaten since before starting the show last night and my intestines now feel like they’re eating themselves.” Hyesung is still talking, blissfully ignorant of the internal battle being waged beside him.

“Well, it’s good you answered the phone then or you’d have starved to death,” Eric says, and seconds after the words leave his mouth he immediately wants to start kicking himself for them. What the . Stop TALKING.

“Ha!” Hyesung seems too distracted to care. He checks himself out in the mirror a final time before shifting the car into gear to rumble their way out of the village. “There’s only one thing I’m wanting to eat in this weather and you’re coming with me for it. No takebacks. You’re eating what your given.”

Afraid of saying anything he’ll regret and half-afraid of his own thought processes, Eric resorts to just giving a nod in response. In the small confined space with Hyesung only a hairsbreadth away, he suddenly feels tongue-tied and unsure. His palm sweats as he grips his phone. He wants to curse at his own impulsiveness and stupidity. What exactly is he doing? He shouldn’t have come. If Minwoo finds out, he’s going to kill him. Hell, he’s going to kill himself.

“You know, I still have no idea why you’ve come all the way here so whatever it is your little brain is thinking of right now, I really hope it’s nothing bad to do with the kids and that you’re not just biding your time trying to figure out the best way to tell me.” Hyesung says casually as they weave in and out of early afternoon traffic. The winter sun shines milk-white on his cheek, illuminating the peach fuzz on his skin.

(Eric wants to touch it)

“Because if you are, I swear, the police will never be able to find your body once I’m done with you.”

Eric snaps to and stares at him in disbelief. “You think if it was an emergency concerning the kids, we’d be this calm?” He can’t help but retort. His nerves regain their composure as familiar annoyance sets them alight. Beside him, Hyesung shrugs nonchalantly, his thin shoulders nearly reaching his ears.

“I’m calm. You’re obviously worked up about something, since you had to wake me up to get me to drive you—”

“Hey, you agreed!” Eric says, knowing how lame the excuse sounds even to his own ears. God forbid he wouldn’t believe himself if he was in Hyesung’s shoes, but he has to fight tooth and nail to keep up the farce now. “I didn’t force you to say yes!”

“Only because I need nourishment and if I don’t eat now I’m not even going to bother until later and if Dongwan finds out, he’s going to yell at me again and I’m going to end up deaf before I’m forty.” 

“That’s a new one,” The image makes Eric grin. “The deaf DJ.”

“Yah,” Hyesung reaches over to slap him on the chest, “that’s ableist. Even if I was deaf I’d still be the best radio DJ around. You know how much fanmail I get?” He jostles Eric roughly with his arm. “Guess.”

“Five. Four of them from your mother and one from Choongjae.”

“You wish.” Hyesung sits up as he preens. “I get four thousand each day, beat that, Eric Mun.”

Eric snorts. “Half of that is probably filled with razors. Or laced with anthrax.”

“You wish you got fanmail.”

“On the contrary,” Eric says, and this time, Hyesung turns his head, looking interested, “I don’t get fanmail but…proposals.”

Hyesung’s mouth forms a perfect oval as he in a disbelieving breath. His eyes look comically wide even behind his sunglasses. “You’re kidding,” he says. “People propose to you? At the café?”

Eric nods. The proposals are a phenomenon among the Korean crowd that he’s starting to get used to. In Berkeley, people would occasionally flirt or pass him their number, but nothing as overt as what some patrons at the Wolf and Rabbit have done, with a handful even asking him for his hand in marriage. Some had obviously been done for kicks or as bets with their friends, but others had been dead serious and more than once he’d had to have Minwoo or one of the staff to help get him out of the situation before it escalated into tears or threats.

“Only you? Does anyone else get them?” Hyesung asks, trying not to sound too curious but failing miserably. He keeps his eyes on the road but his lip is twitching, as though more questions are threatening to tumble out.

“Minwoo also gets them but he’s better at dealing with them.” Eric says. “He jokes around a lot so…I guess the thrill of the chase ends too soon.”

“Yah but that’s so weird though?” Hyesung looks simultaneously amused and slightly terrified. “I mean they can touch you…what if they just grab you—” He makes a grabbing motion with his own hand towards the front, “Hwak! Like that?”

Eric frowns. He hasn’t thought about it too deeply, to be honest. He had written off the random proposals as just one of the quirks he has to bear with when living in Seoul. Seoul is, after all, much safer than Berkeley. He doubts anyone would show up at the café with a dangerous weapon.

“I can manage if that happens,” he says. “Besides they don’t really do much, except try to hug. They’re pretty harmless.”

Hyesung scoffs as he mutters, “Famous last words.”

“Hey, you don’t even know if your fanmail is 100% safe.”

“Well it’s not like they can physically touch me. It only takes one crazy person, Eric Mun.”

“O-ho, are you worried then? About this so-called crazy person breaching our defenses?” Eric asks slyly as a bolt of bravery courses through him. Hyesung grips the steering wheel in response.

“Worried—yah, who do you think you are? And why would you think I would be? Crazy bastard.” He tuts and grumbles like an enraged bird, although he remains tight-knuckled around the wheel. “I’d be more concerned for the people who are deluded enough to think you’d be an excellent match for them. Besides, what did you expect,” Hyesung seems to be on a roll now, and is emotional enough that his words ring out like bullets being fired, “putting up a Flower Boy café in the middle of Hannam-dong? Between you and Minwoo and that staff of yours, you look like an idol group. You guys are like the Venus flytrap of cafes. Nobody even goes to the other cafes in that area anymore!”

The barrage of backhanded compliments leaves Eric stunned. For a second, he forgets how to speak, his tongue suddenly feeling like a lead weight in his mouth. Hyesung seems equally surprised and horrified by what he said; as the silence mounts in the car, a telltale flush colors his face pink.

“Yah, I meant—I mean—”

“Shin Hyesung, I’ll have you know, we make the best coffee and pastry combos in that entire area!” Eric manages to sputter, curtailing what would have inevitably been a major and irrevocable disaster. “I didn’t train under the toughest chefs in the world just for you to say we only get customers because of our looks!”

The relief in Hyesung’s eyes is almost palpable and for a second, Eric wonders what would happen if they kissed…

“And you think with a face like yours, people would go just for the coffee?” Hyesung spits out. “Yah…you’d better not be using the kids too by flaunting the fact that you’re a dad. No wonder women are falling at your feet and proposing marriage, Christ.”

Oh, the man is impossible. Either that or mind-numbingly stupid. Eric can’t help but laugh.

“You admit then that I’m good-looking.”

“As good looking as a camel’s behind!” This time, Hyesung goes bright red as he tries to backtrack on his own words. “I didn’t mean it for me, you miserable louch. It can be said that the women of Hannam-dong have lousy taste.”

“As lousy as the ahjummas who write in fanmail to your station, apparently.”

“YAH!”

Hyesung reaches over once more and slaps him hard on the chest but Eric barely notices. Their joined laughter echo off the walls of the car, pausing only long enough for either of them to take a breath before they start up again. In. Out. Then back up again. Like waves at a shoreline, or the rising and falling of tides.

(In for a penny)

Like the rhythm of two beating hearts finally syncing as one.

(In for a pound)

--

Malatang or Ma La Xiang Guo sounds like the title of a majestic dragon or a variant of phoenix, and perhaps with how red and rich-looking the dish is, the name isn’t too far off.

“You’ve not had this before, have you?” Hyesung chides Eric as he pushes him through the glass doors of the restaurant he’s been steered towards. Denpa Malatang, it says in scarlet characters across the stone façade. A gust of warm air greets them as they step inside, like a gentle breath.

“No…” Eric feels slightly suspicious. The restaurant is not very full, but this is expected as it’s already nearly 2PM. In one end of the room is a buffet shelf crammed with an assortment of raw meat and fresh vegetables, while a huge picture window showcases the kitchen on the other side of the wall. At the end of the window sits the cashier with a golden register, where a smiling waitress waves to them and gestures towards one of the empty tables.

“It’s all the rage these days and I can’t get enough of it,” Hyesung is saying as he peels off his outer jacket and placing it on the back of one of the chairs that they plan to sit on. He already has a tray and a pair of tongs in hand, as well as an empty bowl. “It’s so simple, even you can’t mess it up, Eric Mun.”

It’s Szechuan cuisine, distinguished by an array of spices that are used to flavor the oil base. Star anise. Cardamom. Szechuan peppercorns. Nutmeg. Orange peel. Ginger. Bay leaves. Fennel seeds. Cinnamon. And of course: chili peppers by the handful.

Eric deigns to watch as Hyesung’s hand flits from one shelf to another, filling his once-empty bowl with wood ear mushrooms, rehydrated bean curd stalks, tofu skin, lotus root, potato noodles, clams, shrimp, bok choy, and bean sprouts.

It’s fairly easy to make and assemble. The only things you really need are add-ins you prefer eating, ranging from noodles to vegetables to cuts of meat. It’s the sauce that ties everything together.

“Yah. Get your own bowl,” Hyesung nudges him, his hands already full. “I’m not sharing with you.”

“I’ll just get a few bites,” Eric says. After seeing the signs on the wall that tell them: Choose spice level – Mild, Hot, Hottest, the last of which is decorated with mini fire decals, he isn’t feeling too brave. His tiredness is also getting the better of him and he doesn’t want to risk falling asleep later after just having eaten overly spicy food. “I’m only curious as to how it tastes.”

“It tastes ing amazing, that’s what,” Hyesung says as he makes to pay after handing off his food to the wait staff so they can put his order together. “Mild please,” he tells the waitress. “My friend here is a wimp.”

“Hey!”

Hyesung gives him a sweet smile. “And a carton of milk please, for the baby.”

The fumes the base gives off when it hits the pan is no joke. You may want to consider wearing goggles. Fry the base in the infused oil with garlic, ginger, and shallots. When the mixture turns devil red, add in dried chili peppers, and any blanched vegetables. Add a dash of rice wine and sugar. Be careful not to melt your face off.

“I can’t believe I’m here with you,” Hyesung says as they wait for the malatang order to be brought to them. “You at least owe me the reason for getting me up out of my nice warm bed. Now spill.”

Eric shakes his head. There really is nothing to tell. Nothing of import anyway.

“Nothing to do with the kids. Just a crappy day at work.”

“Too many proposals?”

Eric smirks.

Put your add-ins depending on the time it takes to cook. Vegetables cook the fastest, depending on what type they are. Bear in mind that anything you put in will up the sauce.

“Ok, I won’t torture you. You look tired enough as it is.” Hyesung pours them both glasses of water. “When was the last time you slept properly?”

“You’re one to talk with your own hellish schedule.”

“Yah, at least I do get sleep, even if it’s not during the normal hours. Your eyebags are huge.”

“Pot. Kettle. Black.”

“Begging your pardon, but I at least look human. You look like the walking dead.”

Eric groans as he rests his head on the table. “Now both you and Minwoo have said that. That makes it true.”

“You need to sleep…yah! Get your head off the table, you animal. That’s dirty!”

It has to be said that the broth is not for drinking. You can temper the spiciness with water or sugar, but the idea of malatang remains that it’s supposed to be spicy enough to numb. Once it’s done, you may top it off with chopped peanuts, cilantro, or sesame oil, depending on your taste.

The malatang, once it arrives, is presented still bubbling in an earthenware pot. It’s the hottest thing Eric has ever eaten, and he finds himself in huge discomfort as soon as the mouthful of broth with lotus root and mushroom that he scoops into his mouth slowly but surely sets his whole mouth on fire.

“I told you to do it slowly, you idiot!” Hyesung is saying as he brings over a second pitcher of water to their table while also helping Eric peel open the milk carton that’s come with their order.

Eric can barely glare at him through his watering eyes. Goddammit, his nose won’t stop running and were his hands shaking?

“It doesn’t matter if you do it slowly or fast, it has nothing to do with the level of heat.” He croaks out. He swears that if he survives this, he’ll make it a point to lecture Hyesung in culinary concepts. “Oh my God…”

“Idiot,” Hyesung tuts softly, although he’s still on his feet, pushing glass after glass in Eric’s direction. “Here’s milk. That should ease the burn faster.”

Eric practically chugs down the carton and doesn’t stop until the burning in his mouth dies down to what he feels is a relative simmer. His ears are ringing and he vaguely feels as though he’s been in a fistfight. In front of him, Hyesung bends down to peer at his face.

“Are you all right?”

Eric coughs out a laugh.

“That’s the second time today that you’ve asked me that,” he says, although his words are coming out partly as a wheeze. He an eyebrow up at Hyesung. He doesn’t want to push it, but he also feels like it’s worth it to try…

“You don’t have to worry about me, Shin Hyesung.” Eric manages to gasp out as he sits up to regain any dignity he may have lost. “It’ll take more than a few chili peppers to take me down.”

“Yah, do you even know how red you are right now? I was worried you’d get a heart attack!” Hyesung bristles, but with barely the amount of vitriol he normally would have. He stands up at full height to loom over Eric, crossing his arms over his chest. “You could have told me you can’t eat spicy things!”

“Hey, I can eat spicy things!” Eric is appalled at the insinuation. “But you never told me we’d be eating the chili bowl from hell.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault.”

“It’s not mine either?!”

“This was your idea, Eric Mun, lest you forget.”

Oh, Eric wants to kiss him, if only to make him shut up. Instead, he grips the sides of his chair.

“I didn’t ask for you to bring me here so that I could voluntarily get a fourth-degree burn in my mouth. Last I checked, there are thousands of other restaurants in Seoul.”

Hyesung seems oddly chastised by this. He stops, then sighs and raises his palm as though in concession.

“Ok, so I may have…mis-stepped. I apologize. I shouldn’t have assumed—anyway, we can go to another place. You won’t be able to eat any more of this anyway.”

“No, wait—” The flavor of the spices, although still on the verge of overpowering him, has a very pleasant taste and is something Eric would willingly try again, never mind the pain he’ll likely have to endure. He raises his arm and asks the hovering waitress for more milk, then reaches to grab Hyesung’s wrist and tug him down to his seat. “Sit down. You said you wanted to eat this. We can eat it. I mean I can eat it. I know what to expect now, so I’m better prepared. Sit. C’mon, please, Hyesung.”

The waitress is more astute than he realizes and he almost laughs in relief when she sets down a taller carton than what they had before, thereby ensuring Eric that he can sit through several more spoonfuls. Hyesung is still looming over him, his wrist caught in Eric’s hold, standing still as a statue.

“Eric Mun—”

It’s just a meal, for God’s sakes, but why does it feel as though if he makes a single wrong move, nothing would ever be the same again? Eric stands his ground.

“You said you were hungry. C’mon, let’s eat. There’s enough milk for me and there’s rice. It’ll be okay, Hyesung. Sit down, please. It’s really good, anyway, this dish. What’s it called?”

This time, Hyesung rolls his eyes. He tugs himself free from Eric before finally giving in and taking his seat. There’s a wary expression on his face that hurts Eric to see. Did he cause that?

“Malatang.”

“Malatang.” Eric rolls the name over in his tongue. Each syllable seems to bring forth a memory of its heat, but this time it’s a pleasant tingling around the roof of his mouth. “It’s delicious. I want more. Genuinely.”

Hyesung raises a doubtful eyebrow but gives him a small nod before passing him the bowl of rice. “Yah, do it slowly this time. I mean it. And don’t drink the broth. If it helps, you can also dunk it in a bit of water. You don’t have to…you don’t have to eat any more if you really don’t want to—”

Eric watches in amusement as Hyesung’s mouth drops open as he slurps up a spoonful of tofu skin and noodle, still glistening red in oil and spice. This time he’s more than ready for the assault on his senses as they come.

“YAH!” Hyesung looks ready to pour the entire milk carton down his throat, but Eric holds his hands up.

“It’s really good. Really.” Eric rushes to assure him. His brain finally kicks into gear and he remembers how Hyesung couldn’t take his ex-wife to the places he wanted to eat at. Was that why he had given up the fight so easily? “I’m not joking. I like it.”

As though to prove his point, he eats a spoonful of rice before attempting another lotus root, then a mushroom, then shrimp, more noodles…

He isn’t lying. The malatang is mouth-numbingly good.

“Aren’t you going to eat? I’m going to end up finishing it all at this rate,” Eric gestures at the half-eaten bowl. Hyesung is still staring at him, watching his every move as though in amazement. This is a new side to Hyesung that he hasn’t seen, this fragile vulnerability. Eric finds that the sight of it makes his heart twinge in a way that’s almost painful.

“Or we can order another bowl. Different this time,” Eric offers. He wants to do everything to not see that sort of expression on Hyesung’s face again. “I’ll pay.”

This seems to knock Hyesung out of his stupor, and he shakes his head.

“No, it’s my treat today. But yeah, let’s get another bowl.” This time, he manages a smile close to the one he usually wears. “I’ll put different things this time. You want to try the next spice level?”

There’s a hesitance in his voice. In fact, it’s almost shy. Eric surprises himself by nodding.

“Yeah, why not? We have plenty of milk here to last us.” He pours himself another full glass. He’s never drank so much milk in his life, but he doesn’t have any plans of stopping until he’s sure Hyesung no longer needs the assurance for…whatever it is he needs assurance for. Eric finds that he’s willing to do anything, for as long as it takes.

“Bring it on.”

--

The drive back home feels as though he’s wading through a dream. Seoul passes them by in muted rose gold, shimmering in an afternoon haze. Inside the car, the radio is playing a familiar tune.

Close your eyes and listen to the story I am telling.

Before I finish my story, you will be dreaming.

“Yah, I play that song once on my show and now even the daytime shows are playing it.”

Hyesung’s voice once more cuts across Eric’s consciousness, but they’re no longer separated by airwaves and an expanse of space. Eric reaches and finds an empty but open hand just inches from his. It tenses when his fingers clasp around the other’s, but he doesn’t let it pull away.

“Shh, it’s ok.” He’s full and warm and finally ready to tumble headlong into sleep. He can already barely keep his eyes open and can only manage to mumble. “Just for now.”

The hand tenses once more before it finally relaxes, allowing itself to be held.

“Cheeky,” he hears Hyesung mutter. “But all right. Just for now, Eric Mun.”

Little star, tonight,

I will protect you all night.

“Go to sleep, Eric.” Hyesung says, his tone almost gentle. “I’ll wake you up when we get to your place.”

When I see you sleeping soundly in my arms,

I cannot tear my eyes away.

You’re so pretty, my breath might stop.

How am I supposed to sleep?

Eric smiles and nestles into his seat, relishing the soft warmth against his skin, and content with the awareness that for once in a long time, his reality is better than anything he could ever dream of.

Little star, tonight,

I will protect you all night.

tbc

Author's Notes
1. I KNOW IT'S BEEN SO LONG OMG I HAVE NO EXCUSE.
2. No really, I don't have a valid excuse apart from...LIFE. Just life happening in waves.
3. I'm still in the fandom ofc and I've been keeping up with everything that's been going on not just with Shinhwa but kpop in general. I just haven't had the strength to write. I feel like I've got it back though so fingers crossed that it continues. I already have the events for this fic outlined so here's to hoping I have the strength to write out all of it!
4. Thank you all for still reading this fic. I've backread all the comments and I'm extremely grateful to all of you for loving Mise so much. I hope this update still reaches you and that it makes you smile, wherever you are. ♥