They sit in the back of the car, their backs cramped and their feet sore. It’s been a long, busy day and being stuck in a traffic jam isn’t really how they wanted to spend their afternoon. But these things happen when it’s peak hour and mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and all of the people in between are driving home all at once on the same expressway. A light turns red or somebody makes a wrong turn or one of the roundabouts at an exit is under construction and cars get lodged sideways.

Sure, they’d rather be in their dorms eating some food that Ryeowook had cooked for them, possibly catching up on some of the sleep they’d been missing or perhaps playing a game on the television. But it didn’t work out that way, so they’re here instead, in the back of one of the smaller company cars. A screen keeps them hidden from the driver and their conversation private, so they talk about all sorts of things. They often about all sorts of things, almost constantly in fact, but it’s nice when it’s completely quiet apart from the odd beeping of a car horn or an aggressive yell out a window. An opportunity to talk freely is always welcomed, because they understand each other, and things can get lonely when you’re on the move all of the time. Even if you’re surrounded by a dozen other men.

The driver lowers the screen momentarily and tells them that they won’t reach their next exit for at least another hour and they’re annoyed, but not angry. Thank you, they tell him, and the screen is back up again.

Hyukjae unlocks his seatbelt and turns to rest his back on the door of the car, facing Donghae.

“What do you dream about?” Hyukjae asks and the question hangs in the air for a moment before Donghae his head to the side and thinks about it.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is there a recurring theme in your dreams?”

Donghae purses his lips and considers this, unclipping his own seatbelt and turning to face Hyukjae.

“Yes, there is, I think.”

“What is it?”

“I think most of my dreams are about losing something, or someone.”

“Losing them? Like, they die?”

“Sometimes,” Donghae pauses, “or sometimes they just abandon me. I have a bit of a fear of that.”

“Of abandonment?”

“Mmm, and being alone. Being alone is not something I could never do.”

“Well you won’t ever have to be alone.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’ll be here. And we’re both so ridiculous that no woman will ever put up with either of us, so we’re pretty much stuck with each other.”

“You can’t promise that, Hyukjae. But I guess it’s a nice thought.”

“Don’t you believe me?”

“I don’t know.”

Hyukjae finds himself feeling a little hurt, but he pushes the feeling away as soon as it appears. It’s Donghae’s turn to ask a question.

“What do you dream about?”

In his usual sarcastic, emotionally inept manner, Hyukjae avoids the deeper meaning in the question. “Well, the other night I dreamt that I was riding on a horse, but the horse had a chair attached to its back, so I was sitting in that. Like those elephant ride things, you know, but on a horse. And oh, oh, the horse had these enormous tusk things coming out of its head. And then! Then it spoke to me and told me it liked chocolate mousse and if I didn’t give any, it would buck me off. But when I told it I didn’t have any chocolate mousse and that I was its superior and it’s shouldn’t be speaking to me so informally, it threw me off!”

Donghae laughs and shakes his head. “You really are a lunatic, Hyuk.”

“I know. I’m actually losing my mind.”

“At least you learned not to verbally abuse horses.”

“True.”

Donghae laughs again before sidestepping Hyukjae’s bizarre dream and reaching for what he wanted. “But, seriously, Hyukjae. Any recurring themes that you think might mean something?”

Hyukjae thinks for a second. “I think it’s similar to yours. I always dream that I’m in these horrible situations, awful things are happening, and I really need someone to help me, but nobody will come. You know? Like, I’ve fallen down a well and I’m calling out and nobody is helping me even though the well is right in the middle of the city and people look down at me and throw coins at me.”

“Why are we both so scared of being alone?” Donghae asks, and it’s half funny and half sad. But mostly sad.

“I think most people are, Hae.”

“I guess so.”

Hyukjae decides to be honest. “Honestly, I was counting on you to look after me when I’m old and wrinkly, but apparently you’ll be off merrymaking with your wife!”

Donghae’s forehead creases. “I’ll look after you anyway.”

“Don’t be silly, Hae.”

“I’m not being silly. We’ll live in the same neighbourhood and play mah-jong together and shuffle down the street with our arms linked. We’ll be old and fat and wear our pants up around our s. Won’t it be amazing, Hyuk?”

Hyukjae’s deep inside a reverie and he’s become so good at masking his emotions that Donghae can’t quite detect what he’s feeling. His eyes are blank and his mouth is pressed into a hard line and he plays with the hem of his shirt. Donghae allows him to think, and merely watches him. Watches his long, slender fingers twisting in a loose thread in his shirt. Watches as every few seconds, a little sliver of pale skin peeks out just above Hyukjae’s jeans. A calm silence envelops them as the traffic edges forward like a caterpillar.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

“God, I’m incredibly hungry,” Donghae comments after a few minutes.

“Me too, my tummy keeps rumbling.”

“You ate four pork buns an hour ago, Hyukjae, how could you possibly be hungry?

“I don’t know, it’s part of my charm.”

“You’re a joke.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“But honestly, I’m starving. And the car has moved about a quarter of an inch in the past half hour. We’ll be stuck here for years and I will waste away in this back seat with only you for company.”

“Watch what you’re saying, Hae. I’ll be the one changing your nappy when we’re institutionalised.”

“Institutionalised?”

“Yes, in a nursing home.”

“Oh whatever. I’d rather get eaten by maggots alone in an armchair than go into one of those things.”

“I agree, they sound horrible.”

“Mmm.”

After a few minutes silence, Hyukjae speaks again.

“Donghae, do you ever think about getting old?”

“We were just talking about that, Hyuk.”

“Answer my question.”

“What kind of a question is that? Of course I do. Do you?”

“Not much. But when I do, it scares me.”

“Why?”

“Because one day all of this will be gone. I don’t know how to live without this.”

The words send a jolt of anxiety through Donghae’s chest, and he brings a hand to vigorously rub the pain away from his heart. Another topic, please, another topic. Thankfully, Hyukjae reads Donghae’s mood, as always, and changes the subject.

“Donghae.”

“Yes?”

“Remember that time I drove you to Mokpo and we visited Mum?”

Donghae smiled at Hyukjae referring to his mother as his own. “Yeah, I remember.”

“That was nice, wasn’t it?”

“It was. Mum loves you.”

“I remember she told me I was handsome. It was the first time anyone had ever said that.”

“I tell you that all the time!” Donghae exclaimed.

“Someone other than you, though.”

“Don’t I count?”

Hyukjae reaches out to squeeze Donghae’s shoulder. Donghae grabs Hyukjae’s fingers and tugs him closer, because of course he counts. Of course he does. They’re cramped in the back of a car, and they’re tired and sore, but somehow they manage to fit their bodies together until they’re holding each other, arms loose around each other’s body.

“More than anyone else,” Hyukjae whispers right into Donghae’s ear and it sends a shiver through Donghae’s body and he feels goose bumps prick into the fabric of his jeans. He looks at Hyukjae and smiles and it’s almost funny how many words are said when all they do is look into each other’s eyes, saying no words at all.

Hyukjae yawns and slides his body across the seat until he’s laying down and his head is on Donghae’s lap. Donghae closes his eyes because he honestly, truly cannot stand to see it. Can’t bear to look at Hyukjae, and the way the afternoon light filtered through the tinted window makes his skin glow in the most beautiful way possible. Can’t stand to see Hyukjae eyes, smudged with black, staring at him, searching him. So he closes his eyes and leans his head against the cool window, settling his fingers in Hyukjae’s hair, twisting and knotting.

Soft breaths urge him to look down, and Hyukjae has fallen asleep. Donghae allows himself to look for just a moment. So very beautiful. Lips parted slightly and eyelids so soft, fluttering. It hurts his chest and he grimaces, pulling his hand away from Hyukjae’s hair and once again trying to rub the pain away with his fingertips. The action of pulling his fingers from Hyukjae’s hair, and the soft sigh that escapes his mouth, wakes Hyukjae and his eyes snap open. His brows knit together and it’s so difficult to read Donghae’s expression from down here on his lap, so he sits up and faces him, grabbing his face and turning it to look at him. He drops his hands once Donghae’s attention is focused on him.

“Is there something wrong today, Hae?”

“What do you mean?”

“You seem a bit put out about something.”

Donghae sighs. He’s never been able to slip under Hyukjae’s radar, and vice versa. They’re able to read each other so accurately it’s almost infuriating.

“I guess I am a bit put out.”

“Over anything in particular?”

“I don’t know. Not really.”

“You can tell me about it.”

“Of course I can. I know that, I’m just not sure if I want to talk about it.”

“I wish you trusted me a bit more.” Hyukjae looks down, fiddling with Donghae’s fingers.

“You tell people secrets.”

“Not when it’s important things. Come on, Hae, I’m actually a pretty good person.”

“I know you are.”

“So tell me what’s on your mind. I’m not going to judge you. I mean, look at all the weird I’ve told you over the years. No matter what it is, Hae. I want to hear about it. Please.”

“Okay.”

“Go on.”

“What would happen if I was in love with you?”

“Pardon me?”

“What would happen if I was in love with you?”

“Is that what is troubling you?”

“One of the things.”

“Right…”

“So, what do you think?”

“About what?

“About me being in love with you.”

“Well, I don’t know. Are you in love with me?”

“I’m not sure. I might be.”

“Okay. And you want to know what I think about that?”

“Yes.”

“Well I’ve always been in love with you, so why would I mind? I should imagine that I’d be pleased to hear this news.”

“What? You have?”

“Of course I have, look at you.”

“What do you mean, look at me?”

“You’re lovely, how could I not love you?”

“So…you’re in love with me too?”

“I guess so, to some extent. I mean, if I let myself fully fall in love with you, it would be extremely easy.”

“Let yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ve been holding back.”

“Why?”

“Because I was afraid of being hurt, I guess. And you never gave me any indication that you loved me this way, Hae. Ever. You always talk about marriage and babies and women and so forth. So it never really occurred to me.”

“Never ever?”

“Nope.”

“How about all of those times when I practically bowl everyone over trying to get to you and make a fool out of myself and all of our fans notice and start flipping out because I’ve subconsciously been a psycho lovesick freak in front of the cameras?”

“I love it when you do that.”

“I know you do.”

A moments silence.

“Donghae?”

“Yes?”

“Remember that time I kissed you in my bedroom and you kicked me in the shin?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to do it again?”

“Yes, please.”

And so he does.