This was bad.

Junhui’s heart hammered in his chest as the rhythm matched his feet pounding along the sand as he ran. It was lucky there had been a high tide this morning and the sand was compacted and damp which made it easier to run. He didn’t want to risk running through town and looking even more out of place than he already did. He wasn’t sure if he wanted his new and tentative friendships impacted by the sight of him tearing through the streets in his old hoodie and jeans with tears threatening the edges of his expression.

He couldn’t help but think he was chasing Wonwoo’s footsteps. The sand was holding tight to the imprints left behind from the morning and as he ran he noticed a few different tracks. The heavy drag of Hansol’s surfboard through the sand was as clear as if it had been drawn out in a diagram. There were light footsteps heading towards his house and a heavy trail leading away. He ran a little faster and began to slow when he saw the antique store up ahead, looming in the distance, it’s ancient two storey design holding sway over the whole main street of the village. He’d already guessed that Wonwoo lived above the shop and imagined a cosy little world filled with books and cats and things that felt soft and nice. He wanted to see it.

Cutting ties with Joshua was necessary; cathartic. He knew letting go of his toxic friendships had to happen. A little part of him was afraid of being ostracised, his position in the fashion world as tentative as his grasp on sobriety, but in the end he knew he held more power. He’d keep Minghao, he’d keep Chan, he’d make do with the loneliness and the singularity of a friendless life. His heart skipped a little beat when he remembered he’d have the kitten. A bundle of unconditional love and companionship. An alternative to nights hazy with alcohol and drugs and the uncomfortable warmth of strange hands on his body. A reason to stay home. A reason to stay alive.

“Come on,” Joshua smiled as he poured the champagne into the coffee mug. “One drink isn’t going to kill you.”

It just might though, Junhui thought as he watched, my next drink might be my last.

The smell of it was overwhelming, filling the room in a way Junhui had never sensed before. He must have had some sort of immunity to it before; his senses dulled by years of abuse. Now, in this small town where his nose was blessed with the scent of fresh ocean and warm vanilla, the champagne smelled like poison. Junhui knew one sip would send him spiralling back down a tunnel of self destruction and loathing. It was tempting thought, to drink the champagne, forget about all his problems and fall into Joshua’s arms and let the pain of pleasure consume his addled mind.

No.

“Tip it out,” he said sternly as he watched Joshua drain the coffee mug. “Tip it out now.” “Jun,” Joshua smirked as he poured another, “don’t be so boring. Come on, just have a drink, we can take it out onto the beach and sit on the sand.”

Junhui shook his head. Sitting on the sand was for coffee and breaking dawn, Hansol chasing waves in the distance and the promise of vanilla in the air, quiet conversations that his mind could keep up with and his heart was soothed by. The sand was for Wonwoo. The whole town was for Wonwoo; he was everywhere Junhui looked. He saw him in the waves and the wind, in the sawdust covering his house, in the sky and the moon and the stars. It was all him.

“Tip it out,” Junhui flared, angry, despising Joshua in that moment. He grabbed his arm and tried to pull the bottle but Joshua was bigger and stronger and laughed as if it was a game. Junhui wasn’t playing though. “Please,” he broke down, begging. He dropped to his knees and held his head in his hands and tried desperately to quiet the fluttering of his heart and the rushing in his ears. He wouldn’t have a panic attack in front of Joshua. He just didn’t want to show the other man that side of him. In the end, that was what solidified it for Junhui in his mind.

This wasn’t a friendship. This wasn’t his friend. This wasn’t a base of emotional support for him or a place to find comfort. This was devastation and destruction in slow motion and he began to slow his breathing as he faced the truth head on.

“Joshua I am asking you to tip the champagne down the sink. If you care about me at all you’ll do what I say. Please.”

He stood up to find Joshua looking at him with a level of curiosity, like he was a small animal on display in a zoo. “Fine, okay, no need to carry on so dramatically…” Joshua downed the rest of the champagne in his coffee mug and proceeded to pour the rest of the alcohol down the sink with a dour pout of disappointment. “I’ll have to stay now,” he smirked as he left the empty bottle in the sink, “I can’t drive after drinking.”

“You should come back,” Joshua said as he wandered through Junhui’s house. “It’s so musty here and everything smells like mud.” He trailed a hand across the stand in the hallway before walking into the master bedroom. Drop sheets covered the floor surrounding the bed frame where Junhui had been diligently sanding everything back by hand. He’d stained one bedside cupboard and was thrilled with the rose mahogany finish. He couldn’t wait to see the finished product.

“Should have just got a new one from IKEA,” Joshua said scornfully. It made sense. No one in Junhui’s world understood the value of something broken and dejected being given a second change. No one understood the value of renewal.

Junhui would never let someone like Joshua sleep in his bed again. Not his bed in his inner-city apartment with the thousand thread count sheets, not his tiny single here he was making do with, and definitely not in this stunning piece of antiquity that deserved so much more.

“I’m tired,” Junhui answered before turning his back on Joshua. “I want to go to sleep now. You’ll have to take the couch.”

He almost kicked it before he looked down and saw it. A shell, pink and white and cream and peach, stunningly beautiful and larger than any Junhui had ever seen in real life. It looked staunchly out of place so high up here from the tide line and it drew his eye immediately. It was just the kind of thing Wonwoo would love. Wonwoo saw the true value in the beauty of many different objects. He saw past the rough edges and through to the core of what made something beautiful. He was just like that. Everything was black and white with him. Something was either beautiful and valuable and precious or it wasn’t. If it was he would treasure it without regard for it’s monetary value or it’s relevance to others. If it wasn’t then he paid it no mind.

Junhui stopped and ran fingers over the shell washed smooth and glossy by the waves. He wanted to be one of those things to Wonwoo; something which could be polished smooth by the wind and the waves and the sand to reveal a precious core of beauty and value. He knew Wonwoo would be able to find it inside him.

Junhui clutched the shell in his hand and struggled up the coastal path, through the sand dune dotted with seaside grass and daisies, and onto the concrete road leading to the antique store.

Wonwoo squinted at his computer screen as he wiped his eyes again. He was overwhelmed by this strange feeling in his stomach and the tears which wouldn’t stop pouring from his eyes. The last time Wonwoo had cried was four years ago and it felt as strange then as it did now. At least last time he cried it was because his beloved cat had been run over by a tourist in a big SUV with a caravan on the back. He’d sobbed over the gory scene until Mingyu had, as per usual, come to his rescue. He’d directed Wonwoo to the café and Seungcheol had kept him safe while Mingyu cleaned her up with a shovel and a soft hessian sack.

They’d buried her that night, underneath a lonely pine by the hideous plastic playground across the road, and Wonwoo had cried until he collapsed from exhaustion. He’d cried over the tangible loss of someone meaningful and close to him. An end.

This time he didn’t know why he was crying. Confusion reigned as he tried to understand the vacant loss he felt when Junhui had never even been his to begin with. It was like trying to catch the moon and hold it in your hands; Junhui was beautiful and free and would never belong to him or anyone. There was no relationship to mourn, no loss, they were still somewhat friends if that’s how Wonwoo wanted to define it. But the thought of that man, all muscles and platinum white hair and delicate features, with his lips on Junhui’s and his hands on his body made Wonwoo feel nauseous.

He hated it. He hated even considering it. He’d never considered himself a jealous or possessive person, usually a man of cool calm nature, but anger rose in his chest at the thought of that man in Junhui’s bed. Junhui was precious and Wonwoo didn’t trust the white-haired man to treat him carefully and reverently like he deserved. These people had let Junhui’s life spiral out of control and praised him for it while they watched. He was just a novelty to them; something to be stared at and poked at like a curiosity or an unusual trinket.

Wonwoo scrolled through the photos again and ignored the little itch in his brain that told him he was obsessing; fixated. He couldn’t get enough of the photos, just flicking through them and zooming in here and there, admiring a certain beauty mark on Junhui’s lip or the angle of his shoulder. Looking at him through a screen was better than not at all but the lonely hole inside which had never ever ached like this didn’t agree. His heart wanted Junhui even if it was only for a little while.

He could love him and care for him and let him go, he was sure of it, he’d done it with kittens before and he could do it again. His kittens were all going to be adopted and leave and he’d be sad when they went but he’d live. He always consoled themselves with the knowledge that they were going off to a better life, a happy life with new people who would love them and care for them and treasure them, and it always made him feel good. He’d fostered for the shelter a few times and so he knew how to say goodbye.

At least this time he was keeping a kitten and Junhui was too and it would be an unbreakable thread the universe couldn’t sever. They would be bound across distance by this one tangible bond. Maybe it would even be enough of an excuse to keep in contact. He could email Junhui in the city and ask about the kitten’s progress and maybe even go and visit them. Would it be enough?

Could he risk the shattering of his fragile heart for the chance at one great love even if he was only left with memories?

An undetermined length of time passed with Wonwoo scrolling through the pictures again before getting the kittens out for another bottle. He played with them all in turn, taking joy in their antics as they clawed at his hands and vied for his attention, and decided not to open the shop at all today.

Junhui rattled the door handle even thought the store was obviously closed. His eyes searched frantically for any sign of life inside, a light or movement, but there was none. He felt the pressure of panic rising again and closed his eyes to take a few deep breaths. He was on the edge today, he could feel it in every single cell of his body, the fear and the anxiety boiling under his skin. He tried to quiet his breathing, slowing every inhale, focusing on the smell of the ocean, the feeling of the sun on his face, the sound of gentle waves rolling in the low breeze. He calmed himself and looked around the building for any sort of entrance but found none. The only way up to Wonwoo’s little flat was through the locked antique store.

He couldn’t even call him; he still didn’t have his number. He was learning fast to understand that innuendo and nuances were lost on Wonwoo. The man just couldn’t process implications. If he wanted his phone number he was going to have to ask for it. He didn’t think sitting out here on the street firing off emails was going to be as effective.

Junhui walked over across the road to the small patch of grass that lined the beach. Someone well-meaning had decided a playground would be a good addition to the town and the garish colours and plastic looked out of place nestled amongst the old buildings. Even the grocery store had been inset into an ancient looking building with its original storefront and façade. Junhui looked around and realised all the shops had apartments over the top. They were all two storeys: the hardware store and the grocery store, the café, and the antique store. Everyone must live over their workplace.

Envy swirled in his stomach; the slow pace of this lifestyle was something he craved. It was such an anathema of his fast-paced frantic city lifestyle but what would he do here? How could he make a living here amongst the established community and what if he got bored? What if his mental health couldn’t adjust to the slow pace on a permanent basis even though he couldn’t handle the city either? Where was the magical middle ground that was going to cure him and make him turn his life around?

He sat cross legged on the grass to wait for any sign of Wonwoo. He was worth waiting for even if he had to sit here all day. He took his phone out of his pocket, checked his messages, disregarding the ones from Joshua. He’d left as asked but his messages were thinly veiled with passive aggressive remarks about how Junhui had changed.

Good, he thought.

I needed to change. Something was working.

There were a few barely coherent messages from Chan and so he called him. “Jun!” the younger screamed in his ear down the phone, “they love the photos. Every single one of them. That guy who took them, he’s kind of quiet, but he’s a genius! The editor was literally gushing over them!” “That’s great,” Junhui said as his eyes stayed watchful on the antique store. “I’ll make sure to tell him how much they loved them. And send his payment to my bank details and I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“He’s really talented,” Chan breathed down the phone. “I’d love to work with him again.”

“Me too,” Junhui said before hanging up the phone.

He lay back on the grass and stared at the sky. It was clear, unusually so, the sun bright and the sky blue as far as the eye could see. It was so absolutely blue Junhui couldn’t remember ever seeing anything so vivid and brilliant. It made him uneasy; the sky was always bluest before a storm. Was it pessimistic or just preparedness to be suspicious and ready for the incoming squall?

He blinked and closed his eyes before rolling over and around onto his stomach so he could keep an eye on the little flat and the shop for any sign of Wonwoo.

After about half an hour his tummy rumbled. Hunger was foreign to him. Not in it’s feeling but in it’s meaning. Hunger to him used to mean power and control, a force to be wielded over his body, a way to keep the demons in his head quiet and subdued. Now he just felt hungry. He wanted to eat. He lifted his heavy body up from the grass and dragged it across to the café.

“Good morning!” Seungcheol’s gorgeous sunny smile always greeted him so warmly. “Good morning?” Junhui looked over at the clock which had just ticked over to 12pm and chuckled despite his gloomy mood. He tried not to frown as he sat at the counter and flicked over the menu. “anything in particular today?” Seungcheol asked and Junhui nodded. “Yes. An iced tea….” He’d already had a few coffees and some tea would do him good. “Avocado toast.” He settled back on the high-backed stool and fiddled with his phone while he waited.

“Just tea and toast?” Seungcheol put the thick cut bread down in front of him, topped artfully with sliced avocado and drizzled with sea salt and lemon juice, just next to the conch shell he’d put down carefully. There were a few slices of lemon in the tea too and Junhui hummed to himself as he took a sip. It was neither too sweet nor too bitter and he felt the cold crisp liquid settle well in his stomach. “That’s all today thank you. No crying and no counselling needed.” He smiled and the smile returned to him was somehow even brighter.

“Wonwoo said you’re going to take one of the cats.” Seungcheol busied himself with a tea towel cleaning the already clean counter and bench. “I’m taking one too. He’s keeping the third so we’re kind of going to be a family.” The words hit Junhui hard. He missed his family at home in China and he’d thought the world he’d created around him was enough of a replacement. Until he realised it was all false and he was suffering from loneliness. A family?

Him and a kitten was a good start. The beginning of a new family and a fresh start.

“The adoptive fathers of three sisters,” Junhui hummed wryly in interest as he nibbled at the toast. “I guess so.”

“Where is Wonwoo this afternoon?” Seungcheol had no idea he was stirring chaos in Junhui’s mind as he made idle chatter but he seemed to know more than Junhui expected. “He usually comes in for lunch but I haven’t seen him since this morning.” “I don’t know,” Junhui’s mouth turned down as he sipped his tea. “The shop isn’t open and I don’t have his number.”

Seungcheol was an expert at people. The understanding of intricacies of the human nature that Wonwoo was missing were amplified in the man standing behind the counter. He was a talented and warm empath, easily reading people’s emotions and knowing instinctively just how to soothe them, and this occasion was no different. He could see the disappointment in Junhui’s eyes, the space left by Wonwoo’s absence, and the contrast with Wonwoo’s mood that morning.

“You know, just above the mailbox, there’s a doorbell. If you ring it he will come down and open the store for you.” Seungcheol smiled gently, eyeing the conch shell on the counter, as he watched realisation spread across Junhui’s face. Seungcheol knew he had no interest in anything in the store besides Wonwoo. “He was going to come and see you this morning. Didn’t he come?”

“He did,” Junhui picked at a slice of avocado with disinterest, “but it went wrong. It wasn’t his fault though.” “Look,” Seungcheol leaned closer and Junhui felt himself draw in, like he was about to hear all the secrets of the universe. “He’s really trying. I know it doesn’t seem like it but he is. He’s also scared and fragile and…… different. He can’t take the first steps but if you do them he’ll be able to walk alongside.” Seungcheol instinctively reached out and ran his hand across the back of Junhui’s arm and the touch didn’t scare him. It was innocent and meaningful in its message of compassion and sincerity.

“This is him trying.”

“This is me trying too,” Junhui replied.

“He really likes shells. He also likes these takeaway fruit cups,” Seungcheol said as he got two out of the refrigerated counter behind him. “Take them. On the house.” “Okay,” Junhui said but he took cash out of his wallet and stuffed a $20 into the tip jar. “No more freebies though. I’m not going to send you broke.”

Junhui felt a little lighter as he took the two clear cups filled with a veritable rainbow of fruits and his conch from the beach and headed back to the antique store.

It took a moment for Junhui to calm himself before juggling the fruit cups and the shell in one hand and pressing the previously unseen button with the other. If he didn’t know it was there he would have never noticed it. It was gilt and edged in gold and looked like part of the wall, blending with the heavy dark timber of the doorframe and the mailbox just below it. He heard the far-off buzz it made and held his breath a little as he waited.

Wonwoo might be angry; he should be angry. Joshua was a jerk and he could only imagine the cocky way he’d spoken to Wonwoo who probably retreated like a mouse from the jaws of a lion. He might not want to see him. Every insecurity Junhui had flowed through his veins like poison as he tried to relax and breathe again. He listened intently for the thump of feet and he heard them, drumming into the timber staircase like the sound of rain, and then the door was opening and Wonwoo was in front of him.

“Hi,” Wonwoo said, expression stoic and completely unflappable. If his insides were tumultuous Junhui couldn’t tell.

“Hi,” Junhui said as he held out the fruit cups as a peace offering. “I really wanted to see you today.”

Time seemed to stand still as Wonwoo stared at him. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but it felt like forever before he finally relented. “Come in,” he moved from the doorway and let Junhui into the shop.

Junhui followed him around bookcases groaning with the weight of a million worlds. He followed Wonwoo’s silent footsteps across the carpeted floor to the back where a dark oak staircase was nestled behind a cupboard. He stepped onto it and ascended, his eyes on Wonwoo’s back, his breath nervous and weighted heavy with the unknown.

At the top a door was open and when he stepped across the threshold Junhui felt again like he’d walked into another world.

The walls of the little apartment were lined with bookcases and any space available was covered with prints of what he assumed were Wonwoo’s photos. There was a plush looking couch and a tv and every surface was covered with fluffy blankets and an assortment of pillows. This was more than just a living area; it was a cocoon from the world. This was a place to cosy up and get comfortable and lose yourself. A small kitchen stood off to the side and there were two doors which Junhui assumed belonged to the bedroom and bathroom. All the woodwork was old looking, dark oak with a rich walnut stain, making the room feel like a shield from the wind and the waves outside.

He didn’t know what to say so he just held the cup out in front of him again. “Seungcheol said you like fruit.” The corners of Wonwoo’s mouth turned up just enough as he took the clear plastic cup and walked over to a tiny square table set under the window. “I do like fruit,” he said as he put the cup down and took two spoons from a drawer. “Thank you.”

Junhui clutched the conch so tightly he thought he might crush it. He swallowed his pride bubbling up in his stomach and held it out towards Wonwoo. “I-I found this on the beach. I thought you would like it.” “I do,” Wonwoo’s face contorted in a fleeting rush of feelings he wasn’t quick enough to mask. “I already found it this morning but dropped it. I came to see you, to bring it to you, but there was a man…..” Wonwoo blinked and took the shell from Junhui’s fingers and turned it over as he inspected every inch of its glossy surface.

“I should have just been…. I shouldn’t have….” Wonwoo struggled to articulate what he felt and where he thought he went wrong. Junhui had to move in quicky to reassure him and relive him of any guild. “No,” he clasped his hands over Wonwoo’s locking the shell between them. “No, it wasn’t your fault. Joshua is a jerk and he shouldn’t have even been there. I didn’t want him there and he’s gone now.”

A fresh wave of realisation washed over Wonwoo’s expression and it softened the edges of his face considerably. “I thought he was your… boyfriend? He had no shirt on. He seemed like he belonged and I don’t.” “He doesn’t.” Junhui’s words were rushed, tumbling out of him in a desperate need to make Wonwoo understand. “He’s not my boyfriend and there’s no feelings between us. Actually, after this morning, I don’t even think I can consider him a friend.”

Junhui stared at Wonwoo’s lips. They were a little dry looking, chapped from the wind, red in one spot where he had worried the sensitive skin between his teeth. He was struck with an overwhelming need to kiss them, to feel their warmth, to feel anything other than the sick twisted gnaw of anxiety and loneliness.

“I like you,” he blurted out and Wonwoo didn’t seem surprised. “Okay,” he said but his lips twitched at the corners again. “I like you too. But I freak out when I think about you leaving.”

To be quite honest with himself Junhui did too. He couldn’t stomach the idea of going back to his old life and having to deal with the demons that danced around every corner just waiting to snare him in their terrible claws. He’d faced them last night and won but could he keep up that strength when he was adrift in a different environment without all these anchors tethering him to sobriety?

“I do too,” Junhui admitted. The honesty was liberating and it seemed to soothe something inside Wonwoo as well. He took a seat and put the conch in the middle of the table and handed Junhui a spoon. Junhui sat across from him and the room was filled with silence as they ate. Wind whipped the building outside but it was warm in the apartment over the antique store and Junhui had never felt safer.

Now that he was being honest with himself, and with Wonwoo, he was faced with a new problem. He was able to see exactly what it was drawing him to Wonwoo like a force of gravity. He was smitten.

Wonwoo had relaxed significantly and was laughing as he sat cross legged on the floor. One of the kittens was pulling at the end of his sock which was hanging loose and his eyes were scrunched up in delight. His nose scrunched too, Junhui noticed, his whole face twisting and contorting in happiness. It made Junhui happy too. It made him stare at his lips, fixated on the way they moved when he laughed, filled with a desire to taste them. He just didn’t know how to get there.

The empty fruit containers were discarded on the table and the wind was picking up, whistling around the eaves and roof tiles of the ancient building. It was solid though and barely even rattled. “They loved your photos,” Junhui said as he tickled the belly of the kitten in his lap. She was more relaxed than the one terrorising Wonwoos socks and he relished in the fluffy feel of her stomach and chest under his fingertips.

“It was easy to take your picture,” Wonwoo grinned brightly at Junhui in a way he’d never seen before and he was struck by the realisation of what was so different. This was Wonwoo’s space. He was comfortable here surrounded by his things and relaxed in his own world where everything was so familiar and it seemed so safe.

Junhui shivered a little and the minutiae of the movement wasn’t lost on Wonwoo. “I’ll put the heat on if you’re cold?” he asked as he looked out the window. Junhui’s eyes followed his and he noticed the sky had turned dark; purple and grey replacing the vivid blue of just a few hours ago. “Or we could use the blankets.”

“Blankets are fine,” Junhui got up and deposited the little kitten back into the crate stationed inside a pen in the kitchen. He settled himself on the couch and was about to reach for the nearest rug before deciding to wait. “Is there one that’s your favourite?”

“This one,” Wonwoo had secured the kittens away for a nap and reached for a thick fluffy grey blanket from the back of the couch. “We can watch a movie if you want; if-if you don’t have anything you need to do.”

“I don’t have anything I need to do.” Junhui was about to grab for a soft looking pink knitted rug when Wonwoo sat down next to him and threw the grey one over both their laps. The sudden closeness was unexpected but not unwelcome and Junhui relaxed further into the couch.

The tv played a Ghibli movie softly and Junhui struggled to map out a plan of action. He wanted to move closer, to feel Wonwoo’s skin, his hands and his cheeks and his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he kissed someone, most of his experience ual or otherwise was hazy with alcohol and drugs. He just didn’t know how to close the distance between them. It was inches across the couch that felt like miles and miles of open space and he was just too nervous to cross it.

“Do you believe in past lives?” Wonwoo said, suddenly drawing his eyes away from the movie, and Junhui turned to face him. “I’m not sure.” He’d never really thought about it but watching the expressions flicker across Wonwoo’s face told him that he had thought about it a lot. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” Wonwoo whispered and turned his face away just as

Junhui caught the pink flush dusting his cheeks.

Silence enveloped them and the move played and Junhui began to relax again. He began to think less and less about how he was going to kiss Wonwoo and more about how he was going to treasure him. Even when he had to leave the memory of this day would always live on in his mind. Something precious no one could ever take from him; from them.

He was more enamoured with Wonwoo than with the movie, watching his face contort in delight, sorrow, excitement and joy. Wind howled in the background outside the cosy apartment and Junhui snuggled deeper under the blanket. By some miracle the universe intervened and his hand accidentally brushed Wonwoo’s under the blanket and when the other didn’t flinch or pull away Junhui didn’t either.

It was all he needed, that first magical touch of skin on skin, and he tangled their fingers together. Wonwoo turned to him and smiled so warmly he looked like a completely different person. His fingers were cold but they burned a blazing fire across Junhui’s hand and Junhui couldn’t contain the butterflies filling his stomach. When Wonwoo shifted a little closer the butterflies multiplied and spilled up into his chest, into his throat and threatened to break free.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Junhui said as he watched Wonwoo’s tongue flick out to wet his lips. “I’ve never kissed anyone before. Not properly.” Wonwoo’s voice seemed to drop two octaves as he replied and leaned in a little. Junhui drew in a breath and decided to reach out and grab this fragile thing they had with both hands and hold on for dear life. He had to. He wanted it more than anything.

“It’s okay,” he leaned in, “I’ll show you how.” He sounded more confident than he felt but he leaned in anyway and fitted their lips together. It was nervous, tentative and reserved, but warm and damp and wonderful. Junhui let go of Wonwoo’s hand and reached up to cup his cheeks with his hands, his thumb along Wonwoo’s jawline. He pulled back a little when he felt Wonwoo smile against his mouth but pressed back in straight away.

He out gently, prodding for space, and Wonwoo acquiesced shyly.  Wonwoo parted his lips and Junhui surged forward, overwhelmed, tongue sliding hot and wet into Wonwoo’s mouth. A tiny startled sound slipped out from Wonwoo’s lips and Junhui chased it with his tongue. He slowly and carefully into Wonwoo’s mouth and flushed hot all over when he finally felt Wonwoo’s tongue push back.

His hands wandered down from his his cheek, his jaw, down to Wonwoo’s shoulders. Junhui let one rest there as the other gathered Wonwoo closer by the waist and then Wonwoo was holding him too; pulling him closer, tighter, kissing him deeper and sighing into it with a muted satisfaction.

The wind roared outside but inside no one heard it. The weight of his heart had never felt more like a heavy burden but in this moment Junhui finally understood someone could help him carry it. It wasn’t his burden alone. The cold outside, the wind and the waves, all faded in the wake of Wonwoo’s lips carving a place in his heart. He’d never felt anything like this before but instead of being overwhelming and terrifying it was somehow soothing. Like he’d been battling his way through a wild winter storm and kissing Wonwoo was opening the door. It was nothing short of a revelation.

Junhui was coming home.