Taeyong wakes up with his nose pressed to Johnny’s chest—he must have turned over sometime in the night. He tightens his fist, scrunching up the fabric of Johnny’s t-shirt in his palm. It’s still real. 

He realizes he’s starving, for the first time in weeks. They had a big dinner the night before, but obviously he was still feeling a little unwell, so he hadn’t eaten much. Now, though, he wants every breakfast food under the sun. 

He realizes that he hasn’t updated Doyoung yet, so as gently as he can, so as not to disturb Johnny, he rolls over and grabs his phone from where it’s charging on the nightstand, and then slips out of bed and into the hall, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Doyoung picks up on the first ring.

“Taeyong?” he asks. He sounds groggy and confused.

“Hey,” Taeyong says softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, but last night was… well, it was a lot. Um, so we’ll have to get everyone together as soon as possible, but—”

“How are you even, like, speaking, right now?” Doyoung interrupts. “Last I saw you, you had one foot in the ing grave.”

“Would you let me finish?” Taeyong says, laughing. “Listen, okay? Johnny—Johnny had hanahaki too. For me. He came over and confessed yesterday, to try one more time to convince me that we should get the surgery together. I almost didn’t believe him, but he was coughing up white chrysanthemums, so…”

Doyoung is completely silent. 

“Um, hello?” Taeyong tries tentatively. “You still there?”

“Yeah, I am,” Doyoung says. “I—you two have got to be the densest motherers on the planet.” 

“Okay, yeah, we deserve that,” Taeyong mutters.

“Yeah, I’ll—I’ll get everyone together,” Doyoung says. He sounds a little tired, but Taeyong also hears relief. “How’s tonight? I’m going to see if Yuta will loan us his barn for the evening.”

Yuta had been given the barn that was on his family’s property after he graduated college to be his own space until he was ready to actually get a place of his own. The building was mostly used for storage, but the loft area had become Yuta’s little apartment—they’d even outfitted it with a full bathroom. It had been home to many a gathering since he moved in.

“That would be great, thank you,” Taeyong says warmly. “And, Doyoung, really, thank you for everything you’ve done for me, all that you’ve put up with over the last few months. I’m sorry it mostly fell on you.”

“I meant it when I said I didn’t mind,” Doyoung replies. “I’m just glad you—and Johnny—are okay now.”

“I owe you,” Taeyong insists. “Anytime you need anything, seriously—”

“You’d be there for me anyway, because that’s how you are,” Doyoung says. Taeyong can imagine him rolling his eyes. “Get back to your husband, I’m sure he’s wondering where you went. I’ll text you about tonight.”

“Okay.” Taeyong says, feeling sheepish.

They hang up and Taeyong heads back into Johnny’s room to find him stirring, arms stretched over his head.

“Hi,” he says when he sees Taeyong. Taeyong laughs and climbs on top of him, trapping him on the bed.

“Hi,” he replies. “I just called Doyoung. He’s gonna get everyone together tonight so we can tell them what’s going on.”

“Oh, good,” Johnny says. “The sooner everyone stops worrying, the better.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong agrees. “We should call the doctor’s office to see if they can get us in for a scan today.”

“Yeah, we should,” Johnny says. Taeyong’s stomach chooses this moment to let out a long, loud growl and Johnny laughs. “But breakfast first, hm? Let’s get the brie and figs you were talking about yesterday.”

“Ooh, please.” Taeyong rolls off of Johnny so they can both stand, hopping around the edge of the bed to give Johnny a kiss.

Johnny holds him there in front of him, looking at him with such aching fondness that Taeyong blushes and stares down at his toes. “Can’t believe you’re real,” Johnny says after a moment. “Okay, sorry,” he adds, laughing, bending down to kiss the top of Taeyong’s head before releasing him. “Let’s go.”

The bakery is closed for the day—same with the flower shop, to give their families a rest—so they exit out the front of the darkened store. The street is quiet—it’s in between the early morning bustle and the lunch rush. Johnny takes his hand and squeezes. The image of them ten, twenty years in the future, walking down this same road, arm in arm, pops into Taeyong’s head, and he basks in it. Maybe it’s fall; maybe Taeyong is carrying a basket. Maybe Johnny has that long coat on that makes him look twelve feet tall. Maybe they’re surrounded by their friends, or maybe they’re alone. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that they’ll be together, healthy and happy, lungs clear.

There are a few other people milling around the market. Taeyong follows Johnny to a farm stall. Luckily, it seems Jaehyun and his family haven’t set up a stall today, so they don’t have to have that awkward conversation in public. Taeyong picks out a wheel of brie while Johnny examines the figs. 

The farmer bags their food and then they’re headed back to the bakery. They clear off one of the counters in the kitchen, and Johnny pulls out bread leftover from the day before as Taeyong slices up the brie and figs. He and Johnny arrange it all on the bread, topping it off with some honey, and then slide the platter into the oven on low to melt. Johnny boils water for coffee, and Taeyong washes the dishes. It’s just like it’s always been, and at the same time it’s nothing like how things used to be.

“Hey, guess what,” Johnny says when Taeyong turns around. He pushes a mug of coffee towards him across the counter with the cream.

“What?” Taeyong asks.

“I love you,” Johnny says, and Taeyong laughs. 

“I love you, too, dummy.”

After breakfast, Taeyong helps clean up the kitchen while Johnny calls the doctor’s. Taeyong’s just finishing up when Johnny gets off the phone. 

“They can get us in this afternoon,” Johnny says, pocketing his cell. “We have a few hours to kill.”

Taeyong smiles, reaching up to link his hands behind Johnny’s neck and pulling him closer. “Whatever shall we do?”

“Oh, I think we can come up with something,” Johnny says, laughing bright and clear, and Taeyong laughs with him.

= = =

The good news is all they need is a CT scan. They’re fast, easy, and they can get their results almost immediately. They’re scanned separately, and now they’re in the waiting room, Taeyong clutching Johnny’s hands, one leg bouncing nervously.

“Seo?” Both of their heads shoot up; a nurse is standing in the doorway. “Your results are in. Please, come with me.”

They follow her back into one of the rooms, and she smiles kindly as she pulls out the prints. “This is yours,” she says to Johnny, sliding it across the examination table to him. “All clear. And yours—” She turns to Taeyong. “Your case was a lot more serious, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Taeyong says shakily.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “There’s no roots left; you’re fine. There’s just a few leftover petals and leaves—barely any, look—but I just want to let you know if you find yourself coughing up some decomposed material, it’s not because you’re still sick. Your body just has a lot of recovering to do, okay?” Taeyong nods. “Okay, you guys are all set. You can take this with, if you like. And if you need anything else, go ahead and call.”

“Thank you,” Johnny says, scooping up the scans. “We will.”

Taeyong cries once they’re in the car, and Johnny reaches over the console to hold him, his hair and wiping his tears away. Johnny’s shaking, too, and they sit there in the parking lot for a long time, just catching their breath.

“We’re okay,” Johnny murmurs. “We’ll be okay.”

Taeyong presses his face into Johnny’s chest. “I’m just not used to it yet,” he admits, muffled by Johnny’s shirt, and Johnny huffs out a breath of laughter.

“I’m sure some of our friends are going to kill us, so maybe that’s a good thing,” he points out.

“We kinda deserve it.”

“Yeah, we kinda do.”

= = =

They arrive at Yuta’s early by design; Doyoung is already there, helping Yuta set up, and Mark is lounging in the corner, working on a playlist. 

“Hey,” Johnny calls weakly.

“You—!” Yuta whirls around, dropping what he’s doing and crossing the room to them. “I’ll wring your necks! I have two hands! What the is wrong with you two? I made my mistakes so you wouldn’t have to! Clearly my suffering was for nothing!”

“Hey!” Mark pipes up from across the room. “I’m nothing?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Yuta shoots back over his shoulder. “Taeyong, seriously. What were you thinking?”

“Um, something along the lines of, ‘I’m unloveable and this is a sure death sentence’?” Taeyong supplies, and Yuta reaches out and puts him in a loose headlock.

“I hope you know if Taeyong died, I would’ve never forgiven you.” Doyoung has also strolled up to them, and he’s speaking to Johnny, who just kind of nods. “You were acting like such a wad until, like, yesterday. If you turned up at his funeral, we would have had a fistfight.”

“I believe you,” Johnny says, putting his hands up. “And you’re right, I was being a blockheaded . In my defense, I was scared.”

“Either of you pull anything like that again—” Doyoung shakes his head. Yuta jostles Taeyong a little and finally lets him go.

“Okay, enough threats of violence.” Mark stands up, putting his phone down and coming over to join their little huddle. “The normal reaction to this would be, like, ‘God, I’m so glad you guys didn’t die!’ and then you just leave it at that.” He rolls his eyes, opening his arms to give first Johnny, and then Taeyong a quick hug. “What matters is you’re fine now. I think we can all assume they learned from this experience, and I think all the stress they went through is punishment enough.”

“Since when did you become the voice of reason?” Doyoung asks, pinching Mark’s arm.

“Kun isn’t here yet; someone had to step up.”

“Right,” Doyoung says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, so,” Yuta says, in a completely different tone of voice, anger already forgotten. “Is this like, ‘we’re alive!!’ Or is it like, ‘hey, we’re alive…’?”

“What?” Taeyong asks while Johnny laughs. 

“Lighthearted event, very lighthearted,” Johnny answers quickly.

Their friends start filtering in, and it gets very loud, very quickly. Johnny stands on a chair and tugs Taeyong up to stand on the one next to him. He grabs an empty Moscow mule mug and clangs it against the glass of the half-empty vodka bottle in his other hand. “Hi, can we have everyone’s attention please?” The room quiets a little; there’s shuffling as their friends turn to face them. “Hi. As I’m sure you’ve all gathered by now, Taeyong is not dying.” There’s a bit of whooping that goes up from Kunhang, Mark, and Donghyuck, and Taeyong giggles to himself. “Yeah, yay. So you know he had hanahaki disease. What you don’t know is that it was for me. And I also had hanahaki, for him.”

The room is completely silent.

“Um, obviously, we figured it out,” Taeyong pipes up. “And I may not look much better, but I really am. We got our scans earlier today, and we’re all clear. So… I just want to say, uh, sorry for making everybody worry so much. I’m really sorry for not telling you guys sooner. But we’re okay now. So we wanted to get everyone together just to—to fill you in, and celebrate me not needing a funeral quite yet.”

“You’re not funny,” Doyoung calls, though soft laughter is coming from all around him. 

“How did it happen?” Jaemin asks. “Like, how did you figure it out?”

“I bet it was super dramatic,” Sicheng says with a good-natured eye-roll.

“Yeah, we got into a fight a week or so ago,” Johnny says, sounding sheepish. “My fault, really—I was being really unfair. We didn’t talk, and Taeyong was getting really bad. Doyoung kept telling me to go see him, but—I felt so guilty, I don’t know. Anyway, I did go see him, yesterday—Eunyong almost didn’t let me in the door, which is fair.”

“He confessed to me tearfully,” Taeyong says with a little grin. “And I didn’t even believe him at first, because I thought I was having another weird fever dream. But I realized he was coughing up white chrysanthemums, so…”

There’s murmuring, and Taeyong hears Yuta say, “Truth, honesty.”

“So that was that.” Taeyong shrugs. “And I can’t believe we were both so stupid. I know you’re not happy with us, but believe me, we’re also not happy with us, so at least you’re not alone.”

“Anyway, that’s all.” Johnny pours some of the vodka into his mug. “Personally, I’d like to put the whole thing behind me. So let’s have fun, okay? Mark, music please.”

Immediate conversation picks up as Mark presses play on his phone, and Johnny jumps down from the chair and helps Taeyong back to solid ground. He barely has time to give Taeyong a quick kiss on the forehead before he’s being tackled by Yukhei and Jaehyun, Doyoung not far behind. 

Taeyong himself is immediately surrounded by the youngest of their group; they corner him—Jaemin and Jeno, Donghyuck, Renjun, Chenle, and Jisung, crowded around, half-hugging him, half beating him up. 

“How dare you,” Jisung mumbles into Taeyong’s hair, lanky arms squeezed tight around his shoulders. “How dare you think you could leave us without our permission.”

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says. “I’m so sorry.”

He finally extracts himself from the tangle of limbs, and finds Yukhei watching him from across the room. They meet in the middle, and Yukhei clinks his Solo cup against Taeyong’s. “I’m happy you’re still with us,” he says.

“Yeah,” Taeyong says, suddenly feeling very awkward. “Are you—are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Yukhei’s eyes are far away. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“It’s not fair,” Taeyong says softly. 

“No,” Yukhei agrees, “but it could be worse.” He offers Taeyong a crooked smile, a ghost of his usual wide, goofy grin. “But I don’t think most things are really fair for anybody. We make do, right? In the end, I have all of you, regardless. It’s all I really need.”

Taeyong looks around the room, nodding slowly. Yuta has trapped Mark in his lap; Mark is laughing and punching him for show. Kunhang and Donghyuck are waltzing to whatever Justin Bieber song Mark has on repeat this week; Jaehyun, Johnny, Kun, and Sicheng are in a heated Pictionary match. The kids are chanting for Jeno to chug whatever he has in his cup. The air is thick and heavy and warm, not just from the late-summer mugginess, or even from the combined heat of so many bodies in such a small space; it’s the way their lives are filled when they’re all together.

“Yeah,” Taeyong repeats softly, drawing in a long, unlabored breath. “Yeah, you’re right.”

= = =

The next morning, Taeyong wakes early in his own bed, and creeps downstairs to start breakfast. The sun is just rising, and the kitchen is still washed in shadow, dark and cool. Birds chirp along with the humming of the bugs outside. The sky is clear and bright blue; the sunlight is blinding, even so early in the morning. Taeyong can barely bear to glance outside for longer than a few seconds. It’s going to be a beautiful day.

Soon, there’s porridge bubbling on the stove, and coffee dripping through a filter, and Eunyong is wandering into the kitchen, lured down from her room by the smell of food. She smiles silently at Taeyong and gets a mug for herself. 

“What?” he asks when she’s been watching him for too long.

“You’re looking better already,” she says softly. “Being loved looks good on you.”

“Shut up,” Taeyong mumbles, blushing and hiding behind the lid of the pot as he checks on the porridge. 

Their parents join them shortly, and they all sit around the table, coffee steaming, passing around toppings, chatting quietly. The sunlight falls across the kitchen floor; there are no empty chairs. 

“You know,” their mother says. “We always kind of wondered if you and Johnny would end up together. Mrs. Seo and I would talk about it sometimes.” Taeyong meets her eyes, crinkled with happiness over the rim of her mug. “I guess we were right.”

“I’m sorry I made you worry so much,” Taeyong says softly.

“Well, all’s well that ends well, right?” Mr. Lee says, tilting his head with a smile. Taeyong nods, but there’s a faint anxiety in the back of his head still. Just because he’s cured doesn’t mean it ends well for everyone, right? He thinks about what Eunyong said a few nights ago. If anyone were to find a cure, it would have been you.

He’s shaken out of his thoughts by Eunyong’s mug hitting the table. “Speaking of endings, I have an announcement.” She rests her chin on her hands. “I’m going back to the city in a couple days. I’ve been away too long. Now that things are settled here, I have to get back.”

“Of course,” their mother says, reaching across the table and taking one of Eunyong’s wrists in her hand. She runs her thumb over her knuckles. “Come back soon, though, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“You better,” Taeyong says, nudging her. “Who’ll keep me out of trouble, with you gone?”

“I would say Johnny, but clearly that’s faith that’s been misplaced.”

Their laughter floats out the open window into the sunny yard.

That afternoon, Taeyong meets Johnny at Donghyuck’s parents’ ice cream parlor. Johnny is already there, and on the table in front of him is a dozen red roses. Taeyong gives him a look. “You, a hanahaki survivor, are giving me, another hanahaki survivor, and a literal flower shop owner, a bouquet of roses.”

“Well,” Johnny says, reaching down for his bag. “I figured they’d pair well with these.”

He produces a bouquet of a dozen little rose-shaped buns, stuck on green metal stems. Taeyong throws his head back and laughs, one hand cupping Johnny’s jaw. “You’re ridiculous. These are so cute.”

“I’m making a bunch of different flowers,” Johnny says. “Like I said I would. I’ll tell all my customers where to buy the real thing.”

“Oh, how romantic. No one will ever know the underlying tragedy.”

“Mm,” Johnny hums, a pleased smile on his face. 

Taeyong sighs, taking his seat across from him. “I can’t believe summer’s already almost over,” he says. “Eunyong’s flying back to the city in a few days. All the kids are going back to school.”

Johnny dramatically pretends to wipe tears from his eyes. “All the ones who just graduated, off to college! It’s going to be so quiet around here with that group gone.”

“I’m okay with quiet,” Taeyong says, laughing. “I’ve had quite enough excitement for a while.”

“I’m sure you’ll find your way into some new adventure soon enough,” Johnny says.

“You say that like you won’t be right there with me,” Taeyong says, rolling his eyes. “Like you always have.”

Johnny leans across the table and covers Taeyong’s hand with his own. His eyes are warm and loving; Taeyong feels a piercing tenderness coarse through him when he meets his gaze. “Yeah,” Johnny says. “Like I always have.”