He could remember the first time they’d met. It was the month of February and the weather had been positively dreadful. He could remember the way the rain fell in heavy sheets, drenching his clothes and his hair and his bag as he tried to hurry to the studio. He’d been a dancer – although he preferred to call himself an artiste – and he had more than convinced himself that there was nothing else he’d rather be. He could remember the way he’d brushed past him, not knowing how little it took for two lives to become completely entwined and woven together in a way that it felt as though one would be incomplete without the other’s existence. 

He smiled to himself as he seemed to go back in time, a hot cup of tea cradled in his hands; the walls around him shifted and changed and slipped away into open air, tiled flooring giving way to dewy pavement as the patched up ceiling dissolved into a vast, dark sky. 





-Friday, 08:20:59 AM 

“,” he cursed, stumbling slightly as he hurriedly weaved through the bustling crowd of people. He vaguely wondered if everyone was purposely walking in the opposite direction as him, only to slow him down. And as he tripped and fell, scraping his denim clad knees against the rough ground, his mood only seemed to darken. 

He decided that perhaps it was all the doing of some higher power and he mentally shook a fist at the sky, jaw clenched, as he pushed himself off the ground and continued his run. His sneakers slid and slipped over the wet sidewalk as he held up his messenger bag over his head, trying to shield himself from the rain. 


To be honest, it didn’t quite help and by the time he had reached the studio, he was drenched and cold. He felt like . He was cold, he was tired, he was irritated and he was cold. 

Damn whoever thought of turning up the air conditioner in this weather. He scowled, ignoring the amused glances thrown his way, and stalked over to the elevator, dragging his wet bag behind him, not caring if he left a trail of murky water on the spotless wooden floor. 

The elevator doors parted with a small ding and he shuffled inside, expression dark. He ignored the young girl who shuffled away from him, seemingly scared, and clutched her annoyingly bright pink purse to her chest, throwing him small, furtive glances every now and then. He ignored the old lady who stepped in at the next floor, and the way she peered up at him none too subtly through her large, rounded spectacles. 

His brow twitched slightly as a boy walked in two floors later and he held back an irritated sigh as the youth shamelessly looked him up and down, obnoxiously on a lollipop. Junhyung wanted nothing more than to snatch the lollipop out of the boy’s hands and shove it up his annoying little— 

Ding. 

He sighed as the elevator stopped for what seemed to be the umpteenth time—and really, how long did it take to go up to the seventh floor anyway?—and looked up to see who was stepping in this time. A small sense of satisfaction seemed to flow through his veins as a harried looking youth stumbled in, books falling out of his hands, hair sticking up haphazardly; he was surrounded by the overall air of one who has had pretty much the worst day of his life. 

Junhyung felt a bit sadistic at his apparent glee at the sight of someone looking so frustrated, but he liked knowing he wasn’t the only one having a ty day. He smirked to himself as he moved slightly to the left, allowing room for the youngster to step in. 

He did not miss the tell-tale squelching sounds produced with every step the boy took and his smirk grew wider as he realised that the latter had also suffered the same cruel fate of being caught in the rain. Chuckling to himself quietly, his gaze flickered up to the lighted numbers at the top of the moving car as he counted down the remaining floors before he could escape from the stuffy, poorly ventilated elevator. 

His smile vanished immediately though as the elevator shook, rumbled, groaned and came to a perfect stop right in between two floors—the sixth and the seventh—before the lights went off. 

-08:45:15 AM 

His day had barely started and he was already fighting the urge to grab a kitchen utensil and repeatedly stab his eyes; he vaguely considered stabbing his abdomen too—for good measure, of course. Perhaps even electrocute himself in the bathtub. 

But then he’d most probably end up dying, considering he lived alone and no one would be able to help him. Then he’d probably rot in that tiny, caved-in space and the added moisture and water in the tub would only succeed in speeding up the process of decomposition by providing a means for bacteria to grow and spread all over his corpse and really, he honestly couldn’t bear the thought of having his spotless bathroom being infested by common household mold, bacteria and flies which were sure to feed on his dead body. 

He prided himself over his clean apartment. It was small, but it was spotless, and everything had a place and was kept in that place and God forbid if anything was lying around uselessly on the newly vacuumed carpeting or meticulously wiped tiles. 

He even kept all the food products in alphabetical order, neatly placed on the shelves—expiration dates visible to his keen eyes lest he accidently ingested moldy food. Even his refrigerator was organized; meats at the top, vegetables at the bottom and rows of coke cans in the middle. The side compartments held the occasional bottle of sparkling water, plain water and flavoured water. 

He kept Gatorade too. He liked Gatorade. It made him feel somewhat healthier before bed after he’d had his daily twelve cans of coke. 

He liked being healthy. 

-8:47:00 AM 

His brow twitched as the old lady from before felt the sudden urge to his in the dark. He sighed. 

He briefly wondered how long it would take for someone to realise that there were people stuck in the elevator. 

-10:05:30 AM 

Junhyung tried to ignore the vacant stare directed at him by the boy standing at the opposite end of the lift. The latter was still on his lollipop and every now and then, he’d pull it out of his pink mouth with an annoying little ‘Pop!’; his eyes were wide and dark with interest as he watched Junhyung like some animal at a petting zoo. 

The only person who hadn’t managed to get on his nerves until now was the last occupant of the lift and by now, Junhyung was half expecting for him sneeze on him or throw up or piss all over the place due to the extreme nervousness and anxiety drawn out on the younger’s boyish features. He figured he was probably getting late for some appointment or the other. Junhyung himself could care less about being late for dance practice. 

After about fifteen minutes, when he was sure that the younger lad would not do something dreadful to add to his morning woes, he took a tentative step towards him and lightly tapped him on the shoulder, making the latter jump in surprise and shake the small elevator, earning a scream from the purse-girl. 

He felt the old lady grab onto his again and he scowled. 



It wasn’t until much later that someone had seemed to realise that the elevator was stuck and called the receptionist for help, who in turn stared at the lift in confusion for a full twenty minutes before deciding that he had no idea what to do and called someone for help. 

All in all, Junhyung wasn’t particularly thrilled about the way his day had started off, and he could only scowl in response when his dance partner scolded him for being three hours late. 

One would think that his day would start going smoothly now that everything that could go wrong had gone wrong, but fate had a cruel way of working itself out and Junhyung found himself locked outside of his apartment building at nine at night as he blindly searched for his keys, wet clothes clinging to him stubbornly as he shivered in the cold; the rain had started up again and his teeth were chattering as he shook the front gate, trying to get the security guard to let him in. 

After about an hour of futile banging on the iron gate, he slumped down on the pavement; his expression was torn between utter frustration and childish grief, and by the time his best friend came to pick him up so he could have a place to spend the night, he was practically on the verge of tears, lower lip quivering and dark eyes narrowed to the ground. 

-Saturday, 06:05:09 AM 

Junhyung flailed as he rolled over and fell off the bed, hitting the ground roughly. His hand flew up to slam down on the alarm clock resting on the bedside table and he winced in pain as it slid off the wooden surface and hit him square on the face. 

He wasn’t going to be late today; oh no. He had his entire day planned out. 

He stood up—but not before spending five minutes trying to untangle himself from the sheets—and smiled manically, eyes glinting in the dim light which poured in from the curtained windows. Stumbling out of the room, still clad in yesterday’s clothes and hair sticking up in all the odd places, he ran around, eyes wild and wide as he looked for his friend. 

He barged into said friend’s room, throwing open the door loudly, and flinched when a solid pillow was hurled in his direction and hit him on the face. 

“What are you doing, Junhyung?” hissed Hyunseung, eyes narrowed and swollen with sleep as he tried to glare at his best friend in irritation through his sleep induced daze. “It’s six in the morning; go back to sleep.” 

Junhyung scowled. “I have to go to work. I need clothes.” 

Hyunseung sighed wearily, propping himself up on one elbow as he stared at Junhyung for a long minute. 

“You do know it’s a Saturday, right?” 



It was past nine when Junhyung had decided to leave his bemused comrade’s household, frowning irritably at the fact that he’d just denied himself a good opportunity to sleep in after months of sleepless nights. 

Huffing and grumbling like an old man, he stalked down the block, hands shoved into his—well, Hyunseung’s—coat. His brows were knitted together, lips turned downwards in disapproval as he continued his walk to nowhere in particular. 

And of course, he would step on a wad of gum on his way into a café and he scowled deeply as he tried to scrape off the offending material from his dark sneakers. His angry solitude was broken by a soft cough coming from his left, and he glanced up uninterestedly to see if he was somehow blocking the person’s path. 

His gaze was met with the boy from yesterday—the hassled one—and he briefly noted that the youngster had somehow managed to contract a cold in the past day. Probably because of the rain, he decided. 

It wasn’t until quite a while later that Junhyung realised he had been blatantly staring, making the latter squirm in discomfort as he waited for Junhyung to move so that he could step into the small coffee shop. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Junhyung moved aside and allowed the younger to brush past him quietly; he didn’t miss the small, shy smile the bespectacled boy had given him and for a split second, Junhyung caught himself staring again. 

“Aren’t you coming in as well?” 

The soft voice broke him out of his reverie and Junhyung blinked, as if in surprise. Was he going in? He wasn’t sure. He had never really been one for coffee; he was just planning on sitting somewhere and mourning over his recent misfortunes. His eyes locked on the other’s and he felt his cheeks heat up slightly as the younger let out a quiet giggle, eyes turning up into half crescents. 
He decided that maybe coffee didn’t sound so bad after all. 



It had become a sort of routine. Junhyung would go to the café every morning and he sort of just knew that the other would be there. He’d know by the familiar cough and shuffling walk that the younger had come to order his daily cappuccino—no cream, one spoon of sugar, stirred twice counterclockwise. Not that Junhyung was stalking him or anything; it was just one of those things he’d noticed. 

That and the fact that the younger would always wear the same black beanie that bounced with every nod of his head. He also noticed that he always chose the same table by the window, first seat to the left. 

So one day, when the latter ordered an iced coffee and walked around his usual table, Junhyung frowned to himself over the magazine in his hands at the break in the routine. He briefly wondered why the younger wasn’t sitting in his usual place and he jumped with a start when the latter came and sat down in the seat before him, quietly taking a sip of his drink. 

Junhyung stared at him in silent bewilderment as the younger continued to drink his coffee, smiling to himself. After what seemed to be an eternity—he was pretty sure it had just been five minutes though—the beanie clad lad spoke up, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his full lips. 

“You stare a lot,” he murmured, glancing up at Junhyung. 

Junhyung scowled, blushing faintly. 

“I’ve never seen you order anything,” he continued quietly, gazing at the elder. 

“Yeah, well,” mumbled Junhyung, glancing away uncomfortably. “I don’t like the smell of coffee.” 

“Yet you come here every day,” smiled the former. 

Junhyung shifted awkwardly in his seat, glancing at the younger male before averting his gaze to his hands. “Do you watch me or something?” 

“Only when I catch you staring,” was the playful reply, making Junhyung freeze. 

“Kikwang.” 

“Huh?” (Junhyung felt stupid; so stupid.) 

“My name’s Kikwang,” repeated the younger, eyes twinkling as he smiled once more before taking a sip of his drink. 

Of course, that had to be his name. “Ah, I—,” 

“Junhyung,” murmured Kikwang, chuckling quietly. “I know; I’ve seen you around the studio.” 

(He’d never felt more stupid in his life.) 

“I have to get to practice,” quipped Kikwang, smiling brightly—it was blinding; that smile was so blinding—as he stood up and picked up his bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

(Junhyung wanted to see him every day.) 

And with that, Junhyung was once again left alone in the warm café, magazine held in his limp hands as he stared at the spot before him, where Kikwang had been sitting only moments before, in confusion. What in heaven’s name had just happened? 




Junhyung liked spending time with Kikwang. 

Kikwang was bright, funny and caring. 

He was foolish, but not in the sense that he didn’t understand the harshness of the world. Just to extent that he was often slow and delayed in his responses to certain situations. He smiled quite a lot. 

He liked to smile. He said that smiling made people happy and that everyone should learn to be happy. (Junhyung remembered slapping away the younger’s hands as the latter tried to pull up his mouth in a smile.) 

Junhyung came to learn that Kikwang had a passion for dancing. He was good at it and it was something that made him happy. It made him smile. Junhyung briefly wondered whether dancing made him smile. 

(“You should smile more, Hyungie. It suits you.”) 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled. 

He came to know that Kikwang had one younger brother and that he lived with his mother; his father died when Kikwang was a boy and the younger didn’t really have many memories of him. 

Kikwang liked to cook, and if he managed to keep himself from setting anything on fire, his meals often ended up tasting quite good. He liked gardening too; a trait Junhyung often laughed at, passing it off as a feminine interest. 

He loved to exercise; he would often try to take Junhyung with him to the gym but would always get an excuse in return in order to get out of it. Kikwang was no nerd. He had no certificates and he was never top of his class; but he was smart. He was quick and clever when it came to matters not related to books, but to real life. He was sharp and he understood quickly, despite his dazed and somewhat blank expression. 

He was as good with children as he was with the elderly and he spent many hours a week at the nursing home, visiting old friends he’d made over the years and keeping up a lively stream of chatter. He tried his hand at knitting and made a somewhat misshapen scarf for Junhyung to wear as the weather took a turn for the worse. He held Junhyung’s bare hands in his own gloved ones in an attempt to warm them and smiled up at him sweetly, eyes disappearing behind dark lashes. 

Junhyung had decided that Kikwang was indeed bright, funny and caring. 

Junhyung was dull, stoic and reserved. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled or visited his family. He often called his mother, but he hadn’t seen her in a long time. After all, she believed he was living a life of luxury, working as a successful entrepreneur in a local business. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he was nowhere near successful. 

He scared little children and cats hissed at him. The elderly were convinced he had no manners and he had very few friends to spare. 
Kikwang however, noticed things about the Junhyung that he latter did not notice about himself. 

He noticed the way Junhyung would spend hours working on every task he put forward for himself. He strove for perfection and he worked hard in all that he did. He did the little things everyone took for granted, but which were essential to get the day’s work done. 

He noticed the way Junhyung would make sure his family was okay in his own way. He’d noticed the envelopes of money, boxes of supplies and the occasional card ready to be sent to the post office. He’d noticed the way Junhyung would wait by the phone every night and check his messages when he woke up and Kikwang’s heart swelled at the sight. 

Kikwang had decided that Junhyung was hardworking, dedicated and loyal. 



They’d known each other for over a year and both knew that whatever feelings they had were mutual. Kikwang had declared that he would stop trying to ask Junhyung out and Junhyung had merely sighed in response, knowing that another invitation to a date would be thrown at him by the next day. He still wouldn’t say Yes. 

(Junnie, do you believe in shooting stars?) 

It’s not that he didn’t want to be with him; they were already together for the most part anyway. It’s just that nothing was official. Junhyung was afraid of labels and expectations. He did not want to face the feeling of heartbreak were everything to break down and wither away. He did not like that feeling of insecurity that accompanied such relationships and he rather liked the way they were now. 

(I’m not five, Kikwang.) 

He liked the way Kikwang would show up at his door uninvited, with a bucket of fried chicken. He like the way Kikwang knew what to say and when to say it. He liked the way Kikwang would brush his lips against his own and the way the younger would caress his pale skin. He liked the way they shared the same bed and whispered sweet nothings in each other’s ears. 

(You don’t have to be five to make wishes, hyung.) 

He liked having Kikwang as the first thing he saw when he woke up and he liked the way the latter would throw him a lazy smile, eyes half shut with sleep. He didn’t mind the way Kikwang would drape himself over him and tangle both their bodies up in the sheets, making it impossible to get up in the mornings. 

(Sigh. You’re so childish, Kiki.) 

He was always late for work, but he never minded. 

(Hyung, look; it’s a shooting star. Make a wish.) 

It was sometime in the middle of April when Kikwang had come running home—he liked calling it their home—and thrown himself on the taller of the two, enveloping him in a suffocating hug. He’d blabbered and rambled on about something and all Junhyung could understand was that Kikwang had auditioned for something and that he’d be leaving to some foreign country because he was just that good. 

(It’s a plane, Kikwang.) 

Junhyung was hurt, angry and insecure. 

They’d fought and argued and Junhyung knew he shouldn’t have let this—whatever they had between them—escalate. He knew they weren’t really together, but for some reason he still couldn’t suppress the heartache he felt as Kikwang cheerfully spoke of insignificant things. All he could think of was that he was leaving him. Leaving Junhyung. 

He’d tried to be happy for the younger, he really had, but enough was enough and Junhyung couldn’t help but feel that maybe this whole thing was one-sided. Maybe he was the only one feeling strongly over the detachment and it angered him to think so. 

(Does it really matter what it is? What did you wish for?)

Kikwang was naïve, confused and heartbroken. 

He didn’t understand what the big deal was. He didn’t understand why Junhyung was angry when he said he’d be leaving. It’s not like he wouldn’t ever come back. He wasn't even leaving in the first place though and he wished Junhyung would just listen. But Junhyung never listened.

(I wished that you’d shut up.) 

He cried himself to sleep after Junhyung kicked him out of the house—their house. He slipped out of his routine and he forgot things more easily. He let himself go and he didn’t understand what was making him feel this way. 

(I wished that we’ll love each other forever.) 



April came and went, followed by May and neither spoke to each other for a while. Junhyung went back to his old routine; cleaning, working, dancing, eating, and sleeping. He figured that maybe Kikwang had already left since he never saw him at the studio anymore. Kikwang had called; he’d texted. Junhyung felt stupid for avoiding him, but it was more out of embarrassment than anger. He felt foolish for what he had done. The emotion upset him. 

Junhyung was never one to act foolish. He was calculating, sharp and understanding. He never acted on impulse and he did everything with a cold sense of precision and a clear mind. Thus, when he felt himself slowly losing his calm, he’d panicked. He’d overreacted and he’d lashed out at the younger male and he couldn’t bring himself to face the latter after that. 



It was raining again. 

Junhyung lowered his head against the strong winds, mentally berating himself for not carrying an umbrella. He slipped and stumbled, losing his footing on the slick pavement and he frowned slightly as he tried to see past the watery gauze before him. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

He blinked, trying to figure out who had spoken to him; he could hardly distinguish the voice from the pitter-patter of the rain and he frowned in slight confusion as he looked around, squinting. 

His vision cleared slightly as an umbrella was passed over his head, momentarily sparing him from the drops of water that were pelting him just seconds earlier. Dark eyes widened in surprise as his gaze came to rest upon a familiar figure and he frowned instinctively, turning on his heel. 

He froze when he felt a tight grip on his upper arm though, and swallowed thickly. 

“I have to get home,” he murmured. 

“You have no one to get home to,” was the curt reply. “Home can wait.” 

The sharpness of Kikwang’s tone made the elder flinch and he allowed himself to be pulled away by the former. 



“Why didn’t you ever call back?” 

They were standing just outside the park, having stopped on the way to wherever Kikwang had been walking to before. Junhyung sighed and shook his head at the shorter male, muttering a ‘I can’t do this right now’. 

Kikwang was angry, hurt and in need of an explanation. 

“I called,” he choked out, frowning through—were those tears?—the rain as he peered at Junhyung. 

“I know,” deadpanned Junhyung, voice low. 

Junhyung was tired, irritated and spent. 

“Then why didn’t you call back, damn it?” he hissed, hands balling into fists. 

“Why are you even here, Kikwang?” shot back Junhyung, dodging the other’s previous question. “I thought you were leaving.” 

“How could—If you’d given me a chance to explain myself, you would’ve known that I’d turned down the offer!” 

Silence echoed in the small vicinity as they stared at each other; it was almost deafening and Junhyung felt nothing but confusion as he gazed at the younger. His brows were furrowed in question and his heart hammered wildly in his chest, as he tried to swallow the fact that all this—all these fights and all this time spent alone—had been for nothing. 

The rain continued to fall steadily in a constant rhythm; the sky was dark and the air was cold and every breath they expelled came out in short puffs of foggy air. 

It took several long minutes until Junhyung found that he could speak again. 

“…Why?” 

Kikwang stared at him in what appeared to be disbelief. 

“Why? What do you me—I’m not planning on leaving you anytime soon, Junhyung,” he answered, voice rising up a notch. “Why can’t you get that through your thick skull? Why is it always so hard for you to believe that I want to be with you? Just because you’re ing scared and insecure all the time, it doesn’t mean that you should just misinterpret everything and think that you’re ing alone in this world, because you’re not!” 

Junhyung stared at him dazedly, eyes wide. Kikwang had never yelled at him before. 

“You say you don’t care; you act like you’re some ing man, but you’re the one who always needs reassurance, Junhyung. You say you wouldn’t mind sleeping around and you act like nothing ever bothers you. You say you don’t believe in relationships and you act like you’re so ing cool but damn it, Junhyung, you’re too dense!” 

He didn’t give the elder any time to respond before pressing his lips firmly against the latter’s, eyes sliding shut as he cupped his face between his hands. The kiss was desperate and slow and firm and Kikwang tried his best to pour every emotion he could into it. His hands shook slightly as he angled his head, frantically deepening the kiss. 

His heart was racing and his breath was hitching with every second that ticked by and Junhyung was still to either respond or push him away. However, the relief that washed through him once Junhyung pulled on his soaked jacket and tugged him close, was immense. His heart skipped a beat as he felt the taller of them kiss him back anxiously, fingers curling into the leather that covered Kikwang’s chest. 
Kikwang fought back the urge to laugh, to smile, to just yell out because his heart just exploded. His mind went blank and all he could feel was relief and hope in the fact that maybe Junhyung would take him back; maybe everything would be okay, because damn it, he missed this. He missed them and whatever they had between each other. 





Summer flew by in a haze of greenery and colour, heat pressing in from the ground as well as the skies. Mornings seemed as though they would never end and by the time it was midday, one would already restless. The days were long and lazy and the nights seemed longer, but the two of them relished every moment they had with each other. 

Junhyung left the studio; he decided to enroll himself in a management course. He visited his family and invited his mother. He never gave up dancing completely but he turned his career in another direction. He felt relaxed and far more content than he had in years, although he’d never admit this to anyone. 

They were still Kikwang and Junhyung; Junhyung and Kikwang. No labels. No expectations. But that didn’t matter; it never made a difference, because they loved each other. They were in love and love never needed labels nor did it pose any difficulty. Love was existent as a presence of mind, heart and soul; nothing was ever to be expected from it, because you would already know what was to come. 

It couldn’t be defined nor explained; it could only be felt. It was when you know you’d do anything for another. You’d think twice about it, but you’d do it. You’d think about it; you’d dwell on it—but only because you want to ensure that whatever you do, it will be nothing but good for that one person. Love was when you wouldn’t need the other to tell you what’s on their mind, because you’d already know what’s on their mind. You’d know what’s troubling their heart and you’d know enough to not say anything and just hold them. 

Love was when being in each other’s presence brought warmth and security. It brought insecurity too, but only because you often feel self-conscious in an attempt to please the other. Insecurity, because you’re often scared at the possibility of this love disappearing and slipping away. But you’d hold on anyway, because it was worth it. Because you knew it was there and that it was real. 

It didn’t need a label. 

They didn’t need a label. 

But Kikwang was Kikwang and Junhyung was Junhyung and Kikwang often needed reassurance. So he asked again. He asked what they were supposed to be and what they meant to each other. He asked if Junhyung loved him, but the elder never responded. Junhyung loved him, yes; but he was never one to rush. 

But lately, he’d been feeling more and more of something; he felt suffocated, but it was not in a way that made him uncomfortable. 

And it was irrational and cliché and much too fast but he didn’t care. He liked the way his heart would race a hundred times faster or somehow skip a beat entirely. He liked the way his stomach would drop to his feet with every touch, smile and glance as an army of butterflies swarmed within him. He liked the way nothing made sense and yet somehow did. 

And for that reason, he did not keep himself from saying yes this time around. He did not care if he was throwing caution to the winds. This was here; it was now. And the only place he could think of wanting to be was home. 

Home with Kikwang and his bright, sunny smiles. Home with Kikwang, who burnt toast in the mornings and left his glasses in the refrigerator after midnight snacks. Home with Kikwang who would much rather watch reruns of Kung Fu Panda than share passionate kisses under the sheets. Home with Kikwang who made him feel like no one ever made him feel before. 

And as he turned to the window and saw a familiar silhouette against the dimly lit sky, he smiled for the first time in a long time. He let the muscles at the corner of his mouth pull his lips into a soft smile as he gazed at the one person who made his heart soar high above the sky, reaching places unknown to him. That one person who made his heart flutter, even though he’d never admit it. That one person who held his heart in the palm of his hand. 

He smiled, putting down his—now cold—cup of tea. 

His heart was coming home. 


Kikwang was happy, content and in love. Junhyung could never agree more.

 

A/N: sob. so. mini-fail. ; ; but hvsahjvf something. sob i d e k.