…

When Ryeowook comes home he finds Donghae on the couch where he left him. Donghae grins at him and opens his arms, an obvious invitation for Ryeowook to drop his keys and coat and the groceries and collapse onto him. Normally, Ryeowook would do exactly that, a shy smile in place and eyes downcast until the exact moment he falls into Donghae’s arms. Then Donghae would squeeze him a little too tightly and pepper little puppyish kisses all over his face. They would cuddle close and pretend that this was what made them both happy.

Now, Ryeowook can’t bring himself to even do that. He takes the groceries into the kitchen and quietly puts them away. He’d gone out for necessities, things they absolutely needed, like milk and bread and some wine. He dreads the moment Donghae walks into the kitchen and comes up behind him, arms winding around his waist, and drags him back against his firm chest.

“What took so long, huh?” Donghae murmurs into his hair. His fingers gently Ryeowook’s stomach and the younger man knows Donghae isn’t angry, he’s worried. Ryeowook’s throat constricts at the thought and his lips tingle as if Jongwoon’s are still upon them. Hot tears of shame and guilt rise up and glide down his cheeks. They splash onto the floor, but it’s the small tremor his body gives that alerts Donghae that something is wrong. “Are you crying?”

Donghae tries to turn him around, but Ryeowook resists, hands clutching the counter. Donghae tears him away and holds him out in front of him, clutching him by the biceps. Ryeowook lets his chin fall to his chest to avoid Donghae’s gaze. He shakes his head. It’s nothing, he tries to say, but all that comes out is a broken whimper. Donghae pulls him forward and hugs him close, hand smoothing up and down his back.

“What’s wrong?” he tries again, rocking Ryeowook gently. “Did something happen?”

Ryeowook almost gives in. Almost tells Donghae about seeing Jongwoon and catching up over a few drinks. Almost tells him about kissing Jongwoon and how right it had felt and how much he still wants to be with Jongwoon. He doesn’t, though. Not after all the tears so many years ago. Not after Donghae took him in and helped him convince himself that he didn’t love Jongwoon anymore. Not after he’d promised himself to Donghae.

Instead, he buries his face in Donghae’s chest and mumbles, “No.”

“Then why are you crying, baby?”

“I don’t know.” Ryeowook’s heart squeezes with guilt, but he figures this is the most emotion it’s felt in years, so why not let it indulge?

“Hey,” Donghae whispers. “Why don’t we open that wine now? We can finish that movie we started the other day and call it a night. We have a big day tomorrow anyway.”

Ryeowook nods and pulls away, turning back to the refrigerator. “I’ll make sandwiches.”

…

That night, when Ryeowook comes out of the bathroom, Donghae is waiting for him in bed. He’s sitting against the headboard, glasses perched on his nose, reading the book he’d been struggling for months to finish. Ryeowook stops in the doorway, watching Donghae’s eyes shift across the pages. He admires the small smile on his lips and how artfully his hair falls across his forehead. With a pang in his heart, Ryeowook thinks how if things had been different how much he would love to love Donghae. But then, he thinks, maybe he should try harder. He stands there, admiring Donghae until he looks up, his smile widening, and sets his book aside. He opens his arms and, this time, Ryeowook crawls onto the mattress and onto his lap. They cuddle close for a moment, then Donghae shifts him off to the side, hand lovingly down Ryeowook’s arm. Donghae kisses the top of his head and reaches out to turn off the lamp. They settle down, blanket pulled high. Donghae molds around his back, spooning behind him. Ryeowook sighs and closes his eyes, hands clutching at Donghae’s arms tight around his waist.

He should expect it, when Donghae’s lips find his neck and his hand delves beneath his shirt to his chest, but a low whimper leaves his throat before he can stop it. Donghae likes contact, likes to be physical, and show his love. It’s not long before he has Ryeowook on his back, stripped down, and keening. Ryeowook doesn’t mind it. In fact, he welcomes it. He meets each of Donghae’s kisses with as much fervor and need. It’s moments like these, when they are so wrapped up in one another’s embraces, that they forget things that were and things that could have been. The focus entirely on one another, gazes kept and lips brushing so sweetly. That is, until passion takes over and they bury their faces in one another’s neck and pretend they don’t hear hushed moans of the wrong names.

After, Ryeowook rolls away. He turns his back on Donghae, not that the older man seems to mind. Donghae lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. His arm stretches out to the side to allow his hand to up and down Ryeowook’s back. Ryeowook’s unfocused gaze falls on the wall, eyes glazed over and unseeing for the longest time. He feels empty, but at the same time he feels a tug at his heart. One that results in a shiver and him rolling over and snuggling up to Donghae’s side. Donghae had been half-asleep, but Ryeowook’s ice-cold toes between his calves jolt him awake. He chuckles and slips an arm under Ryeowook’s head. While one hand s blindly for the blankets, he cradles Ryeowook to him and presses countless kisses to his forehead and cheeks.

“I love you,” Donghae murmurs against his temple, lips brushing softly against the soft beginnings of hair.

Ryeowook breathes in response, finger tracing swirling patterns on Donghae’s bare chest. He tucks in closer and presses his lips to Donghae’s collarbone. He tries to relax his muscles, but they keep tensing up with each shift of Donghae’s body. He twitches when Donghae his back again and asks him what’s bothering him. Ryeowook has no idea why he’s so jumpy, why he can’t relax in his lover’s arms, but then the words tumble out, unbidden, and his stomach twists in fear.

“Do you still think about Hyukjae?”

Donghae inhales sharply, hand stilling on Ryeowook’s shoulder, but only for a fraction of a second. It resumes its course and Donghae turns his head to meet Ryeowook’s eyes.

“Sometimes,” Donghae replies. “It would be strange not to, wouldn’t it? Why are you asking so suddenly?”

“I’m just curious,” Ryeowook says. He’s not sure why he would ever ask a question. It’s like he wants to ruin his entire life on the fleeting notion that Jongwoon is back in town and didn’t treat him like a past plague and might, possibly, welcome him back. He leans in closer to press his lips to Donghae’s. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Donghae mumbles back, turning them so they’re both on their sides. They rest their heads on the same pillow and tangle their knees below the covers. “Is that what got you so worked up earlier?”

“Kind of.”

“You have to tell me when things make you sad. That’s what I’m here for.” Donghae is a hypocrite, Ryeowook thinks. For all his talk of sharing and confessing feelings, he’s one to suffer in silence. He is shy and likes to hide his true thoughts and feelings behind a happy, dopey mask, always quick to play the clown or to sweep Ryeowook off his feet in a wave of over-glorified passion.

Ryeowook leans forward one more time to kiss Donghae before closing his eyes and going to sleep. He promises himself that this is the last he’ll ever think of Jongwoon. From this point on, he will devote himself entirely to making Donghae as happy as he possibly can.

…

Christmas comes and goes without much fanfare, just as Ryeowook predicted. He and Donghae visit their parents and have a quiet evening at home. They have a small exchange of gifts, nothing too extravagant, and retire to bed early. Ryeowook is expected back at work early the twenty-sixth and their lives continue on, as if the holiday had been nothing but a hazy dream. New Year’s is celebrated with friends and a couple beers. Donghae kisses him at midnight, promising that this year will be their best. Ryeowook can’t help but be swept up in the idea. He promises himself again to Donghae and it’s the first time in a long while that he allows three sweet words to pass his lips just before they meet Donghae’s for the second time that year. It’s the best night Ryeowook’s had in ages. It’s the first night that ghosts of past lovers are not present in their darkened bedroom.

January goes better than either of them could have hoped. Donghae gets a new job at a dance studio teaching hip hop and business at the restaurant Ryeowook works at has never been better. Even better than that, a more genuine affection begins to sprout between them. No longer do their hearts twist with hope every time the door opens, only to be crushed when the wrong person walks in. Donghae stops saying that Ryeowook is perfect, instead he makes lists, miles long, of exactly what makes him so. Ryeowook falls asleep feeling warm and safe and wakes up to coffee-breath kisses that, to him, only taste sweet. They are more gentle and loving in their actions. Ryeowook picks up after Donghae with none of his previous annoyance and promises to cook for him no matter what the time (he regrets this when Donghae starts waking him at three in the morning for sandwiches that only Ryeowook can make). They go on happy little weekend dates, to parks, or movies, or dinner, and always end up twirling around their living room in a mock waltz, Donghae leading while Ryeowook hums a beautiful song.

Ryeowook thinks things are finally starting to change for the better.

Then he finds the letter. It’s late when he finally heads home from the restaurant. It has become a habit for Ryeowook to check the mailbox before he makes his way upstairs to their apartment because, even though Donghae gets home first, the older man almost never remembers to check. He’s forgetful about these sorts of things, checking the mail, locking the door, tying his laces, but he can always be counted on to send text messages in the middle of the day and be waiting for Ryeowook when he comes home. Ryeowook’s not surprised when he finds a thick stack of mail in the box. He sorts through it on his way up the stairs. It’s mostly junkmail and a few bills, but one envelope catches his eye.

It’s a warm yellow, thick, and their address is written in pen. It’s addressed to Donghae. Ryeowook pouts a little because usually he is the one receiving snail mail. Donghae isn’t one for sending handwritten letters; he hardly has the attention span to type up a cohesive email. It piques his interest. Anyone who knows Donghae well enough to be sending him hand-addressed mail should know that he’d never make it through as many pages as the envelope suggests is inside. He stops mid-step, however, when he reads Lee Hyukjae written in the corner.

With a shaking hand, he unlocks their front door. He removes his shoes and drops the mail on the table by the door, keeping Donghae’s letter firmly in his grasp. His mind is racing. He should hand the letter over. It isn’t his. He has no right opening it, or burning it, or a hundred other things that run through his brain. Then, all he can hear are Donghae’s bare feet padding across the living room floor to come greet him. Donghae scoops him up in a tight hug and announces how very much he missed him. He lets Ryeowook fall back to the ground and his head.

“What’s that? You okay? You look pale.” Donghae brushes his knuckles across Ryeowook’s cheek, offering a friendly smile.

“It…it’s for you,” Ryeowook relents, holding the letter out. Donghae takes it, confused, and turns it over. His previous grin slides off his face. He stares blankly at the envelope and Ryeowook doesn’t know what that means. He would have rather seen Donghae’s eyes light up in joy or flicker in anger. Instead, Donghae turns on heel and retreats to the living room. When Ryeowook follows him, he sees Donghae’s taken the armchair by the window, the one that has been unused since purchase because they always sat together on the couch. Ryeowook feels his stomach twist in apprehension and he goes straight into the kitchen. He pulls out pots and pans, banging them carelessly together as he cooks a late supper.

It’s not until he has plates set out on the table that Donghae enters the kitchen. He watches Ryeowook bustle around the stove before reaching out and grabbing his arm.

“What are you doing?” he asks, pulling Ryeowook around to face him. “I got us take-out, remember? I texted you because you had to work late.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Ryeowook says, glancing at the stove. He doesn’t want to meet Donghae’s eyes. He’s afraid of what he’ll see there. “What was the letter?”

“Nothing,” Donghae replies. From his voice, Ryeowook can’t tell if Donghae is trying to hide something or if the letter truly and honestly meant so little to him. He risks a peek at Donghae’s face and is disappointed to see that it betrays just as little as his voice. “Let’s eat, yeah?”

…

From then on, Ryeowook sees far less of Donghae.

Donghae says he goes out with friends from his gym or students from his studio, but Ryeowook had seen that Hyukjae’s return address was local. He’s almost positive his suspicions are correct, yet he says nothing. Things are just starting to get better and he doesn’t want to jeopardize that. If Donghae says he’s going out with friends, then he’s going out with friends. Ryeowook tells himself this over and over again while he lays in their bed, cold and alone. Donghae would never hurt him. Donghae promised him, the very first day they kissed, that he would never hurt Ryeowook. Donghae comes home around four in the morning. Ryeowook knows because he’s not able to sleep at all until Donghae slips in between the sheets and curls around him. Ryeowook pretends to be asleep and cuddles up to Donghae’s chest. When he smells the scent of soap not their own rubbed into Donghae’s skin, his heart twists in a way it hasn’t for almost a month. He clings tighter and prays he doesn’t have nightmares tonight. When he wakes up, Donghae is kissing his face all over. When he sees that Ryeowook’s eyes have blinked drowsily open, he connects their lips and kisses him senseless. He winds his arms around Donghae’s back and drags him down until he’s fully on top of him, as close as he can be.

The thought of losing Donghae, losing him now, after all of this, scares Ryeowook. He will let Donghae play around as long as it means they don’t have to have confrontation. The last time that had happened, Ryeowook’s heart had been torn out. He makes sure to kiss Donghae extra sweetly before they part in the morning, hoping to remind him that he, Ryeowook, has been here by his side this whole time. It is selfish, he knows, but he can’t stop himself. Donghae, other than staying out late most nights, is just as loving and sweet as usual. So much so that Ryeowook can almost convince himself that nothing suspicious is happening behind his back.

Then he sees Hyukjae when he’s out shopping. Ryeowook is browsing hats and scarves when a regretfully familiar face passes by. He has to do a double-take, leaning out from behind his rack of hats. He’s staring, mouth hanging open, when Hyukjae turns back around. Their eyes meet in two entirely different expressions: one panics while the other crumples in pain. Ryeowook is quick to duck behind his rack and hurry out of the store. It’s amazing, he thinks, how the sight of his friend, his friend that he hasn’t seen in so long, is able to shoot pure fear into his veins. He wanders around the shopping district for hours. At one point, he buys a drink and sits at a café, mindlessly playing with his phone. It’s not until his phone buzzes in his hand with a worried text from Donghae that he realizes how long he’s been gone. He replies quickly, promises to hurry home, and does exactly that.

“Are you sure he saw you?” Donghae’s voice floats down the hall from their bedroom when Ryeowook enters the apartment. Ryeowook’s heart sinks, but he had promised himself that he would only make Donghae happy. He drops his keys noisily on the table and hears Donghae spring up from the bed, the springs squealing in protest. He can hear Donghae mutter something much quieter and then the next second he is in the living room, lifting Ryeowook off his heels in a bear-hug like always. He rocks him side to side for a second before dropping Ryeowook back down. He kisses Ryeowook’s forehead and grins. “Dinner?”

Ryeowook can only smile and ask, “What’re you in the mood for?”

Donghae follows him to the kitchen, chirping about a commercial he’d seen on television for an Italian restaurant. Ryeowook pulls out a couple saucepans and catches Donghae’s eye. Donghae is standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Usually he would be standing far too close, causing Ryeowook to bark get out of the way almost constantly, or on top of the counter, swinging his legs against the dishwasher.

“You okay?” Ryeowook asks. He hates seeing Donghae looking so guilty. He wishes he knew how to bring it up, but he is selfish and doesn’t want to hurt himself again.

“Yeah,” Donghae says, the corner of his lip turning up. He steps forward and latches himself to Ryeowook’s back and just like that he’s back to being annoying and in the way. He stays right by Ryeowook’s side while he cooks, then pleads to eat on the couch in the living room so they can cuddle and watch a movie. Ryeowook allows this much, because it makes himself feel a little more secure even though he knows Donghae is just trying to cover things up. He draws the line, however, when Donghae tries to shower with him. It’s with a laughing kiss that he pushes Donghae off of him and out of the bathroom, struggling to shut it while Donghae whines and pushes against the other side.

That night, he definitely expects Donghae to be intimate. He expects heated kisses and wandering hands, but when he falls into Donghae’s arms all he receives is an innocent peck on the temple. Ryeowook pouts up at him.

“What?” Donghae laughs at his expression and leans down to kiss his lips.

“You’ve been clingy since I got home. I kinda thought you’d want more than a kiss.”

Donghae laughs and reaches out to turn off the lamp. He sinks farther down on the mattress and pulls Ryeowook with him. “I thought it would be nice to just cuddle.”

At those words, Ryeowook knows it’s all over. He can feel the love, or the façade of love they’d built, crumbling around him.

Ryeowook tries to remain strong. Hyukjae may be back, but Donghae hasn’t left him yet, which must mean something. He overlooks the things that start to go missing, like half of Donghae’s wardrobe. When he walks in a room and sees Donghae hastily send a text then stuff his phone in his pocket, Ryeowook pretends not to notice. It’s around the second week of all this that Ryeowook slowly begins to crack. He knows it’s tearing Donghae apart, the not knowing if Ryeowook knows or not. He can see it in each guilty smile and weary look.

One night, as they’re lying in bed, a foot of space between them, facing opposite directions, Ryeowook finally gets the nerve to ask, “If Hyukjae asked, would you go back to him?”

He hears a slow intake of breath, signaling that Donghae had been expecting such a question eventually. The mattress dips and Ryeowook suddenly feels warmth spread along his entire back. Donghae’s thick arms wind around his waist and pull him in close. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You’d be happier, though.” Ryeowook pets his arm, fingertips tracing over veins long-ago committed to memory. Donghae breathes into his hair, mulling over his words. His grasp tightens.

“What are you saying, Ryeowook?” Ryeowook hears a lot in that sentence. Misery. Anger. Hope.

Ryeowook turns onto his back and stares up at Donghae. Ryeowook wants to open his mouth and tell Donghae that he knows he’s cheating and that they’d be better off apart. Instead, he props himself up on his elbows and kisses Donghae. It’s short and sweet and innocent. “I just want you to be happy.”

Donghae looks at him for a long time without speaking. Ryeowook lies back on the bed with a tired sigh and tugs the blankets higher up. Before he can roll over, Donghae pins him down and kisses him again. This time it’s hard and brutal, lips crushed together. Donghae nips at his lips until they part and he can ravish Ryeowook’s mouth. Their tongues tangle, , teasing, tasting, and they breathe loudly through their noses. Ryeowook tries to break away for a proper breath of air, but Donghae holds him in place until he’s dizzy with it. Ryeowook doesn’t realize he’s crying until he chokes on a sob and has to forcibly shove Donghae away to cough. As soon as he catches his breath Donghae’s lips are back on his. Ryeowook feels tears splash down onto his cheeks and cries harder, finally breaking the kiss for good. They lie pressed together, crying onto each other’s shoulders as moonlight washes over the room.

…

The next day, Ryeowook rushes off to work much earlier than he normally would, speeding through his breakfast and morning shower. He is ready to leave the apartment before Donghae’s even rolled out of bed. He stops, hand on the handle, and turns back. He pens a short note to leave on the coffee pot, so Donghae won’t worry, but his feet take him past the kitchen and into the bedroom. He crawls onto the mattress and kisses Donghae’s forehead softly. Donghae grumbles in his sleep and turns into the kiss. Ryeowook’s heart clenches and he leaves the note on his pillow instead.

At work, he throws himself into all the mindless tasks he can, things that don’t take much thought and are sure to keep him busy and out of the way. He cleans the entire kitchen, ovens included, before the restaurant even begins service for the afternoon. He avoids cooking as long as possible, certain his wandering mind will only cause trouble, and volunteers to do dishes and fetch ingredients instead. When he’s finally forced to take a position at the stove, his worries come true. He has three dishes returned in an hour and the head chef angry with him. He’s sent home midway through the dinner shift with instructions to lose the stress and calm down before returning to work the next day.

He trudges up the stairs, thankful that at least Donghae will probably be out late again and he won’t have to explain himself. He pushes open the door and drops his shoes to the side, grumbling about the messy walk-in. Had his mind been clearer, he might have noticed the extra pair of sneakers lying there that did not belong to him nor Donghae. He might have predicted what he was to come upon when he rounded the corner into the kitchen. He might have avoided the entire incident for months more. He might have been able to keep his fairytale running for ages.

He walks into the kitchen and stops before he even makes it halfway to the refrigerator. His eyes meet with Donghae’s over Hyukjae’s shoulder. Donghae’s face races through emotions, surprise, horror, shame, worry, and finally settles on guilt. He pushes Hyukjae back and the older man turns around.

“Oh, .”

Ryeowook feels as if Hyukjae’s utterance sums up everything that’s happened in his life for the past five years perfectly. .

“What are you doing home?” Donghae’s voice is high and croaky and he coughs midway through his sentence to clear it.

“Sent home early,” Ryeowook deadpans. His gaze falls to the floor and he finds he barely has the energy to stand. He knew this is what it was all coming to, that eventually they would have to come to terms with what was happening and that they would most likely part ways. He’d prepared himself for this, gave himself pep-talks in the shower, promised himself he’d be strong and let Donghae go. It was for the better. He just didn’t think it would come so soon, so abruptly, so in his own kitchen. In the spot Donghae had comforted him all those weeks ago when he’d come home from the grocery with the taste of Jongwoon still on his tongue.

“Ryeowook, I…” Donghae trails off. He steps forward and places a hand on Ryeowook’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Donghae,” Ryeowook says to the tiled floor. “I knew. I’ve known for a while.”

“No, it’s not okay. Ryeowook, I’m sorry.” Donghae’s voice is tight with tears and his grip on Ryeowook’s shoulder is so tight it hurts. Or would hurt, if Ryeowook could feel anything other than his heart shattering inside.

“I saw Jongwoon,” he finally confesses. “On Christmas Eve. We got drinks and I kissed him.” He looks up and watches Donghae’s face contort with confusion.

“That’s hardly the same, though.”

“Isn’t it? Neither of us are happy, so we found someone else. It’s the same.”

“Have you been seeing Jongwoon?” Ryeowook can hear the desperate attempt to make them even.

“Yeah,” he lies, looking straight into Donghae’s eyes. “Before Hyukjae even sent you that letter.”

Hyukjae shifts awkwardly in the corner, having been trying his hardest to melt into the floor and stay out of this.

“Ryeowook, I’m sorry,” Donghae says again, tears sliding down his cheeks. “I didn’t make you feel loved enough, did I? It’s my fault.”

“I don’t blame you. This was never going to work out and we both knew it. You belong with Hyukjae. You always have.” Ryeowook smiles up at Hyukjae, trying his hardest not to crumble. “I don’t hate you, either.”

“Ryeowook,” Donghae pleads. He turns back to Hyukjae. “Maybe you should go. I’ll call you or something.”

“Maybe you should go with him,” Ryeowook suggests. He watches Donghae’s face falter.

“I’ll stay. I want to stay. I’m not leaving you here alone. I ed up, I know. We can talk about it. Work it out.”

“Please, Donghae.” Ryeowook’s voice finally cracks. “I want some time alone. Just the night.”

Donghae looks ready to protest again, but Hyukjae grabs his shoulder. “Come on, Hae. Leave him be.”

“Thank you,” Ryeowook says quietly, moving aside to let them out of the kitchen. “You two really should be together, you know. Don’t worry about me.”

“Thanks for taking care of him,” Hyukjae says, patting Ryeowook heavily on the arm. Ryeowook looks up with a watery smile and nods. Donghae steps forward and kisses him on the forehead, lips lingering for a second too long, before he pulls away and follows Hyukjae out the door. The door closes and the deadlatch slips into place with an echoing click.

Ryeowook wraps his arms loosely around himself and walks to the living room. He crosses the room, coming to a stop in front of the liquor cabinet. It’s mostly for show, containing usually only a bottle or two of wine and the odd bottle of gin or vodka. A long time ago, he’d been a notoriously heavy drinker, able to throw back shots and pound beers with the best of his bar-hopping friends from college. More recently, however, he’d saved drinking for special occasions. This, he deems, is a special occasion. He grabs an unopened bottle, something a friend had given to them on New Year’s Eve that neither of them had the guts to taste, and slinks down the hallway. It’s after the first shot that he decides they had good reason not to try it; tequila never settled well with him. After a few more, he remembers why he’d given up heavy drinking. The swirl of emotions he’d been feeling for the last two years, and especially the last few weeks, builds up into a hurricane. The first real tears slip down his cheeks as he crosses the threshold into the bedroom. As he hits the mattress and buries his face into a pillow that carries their combined scent, the wracking sobs begin. His sides heave and he can’t quiet himself. Not that anyone is around to hear him. He can’t help but feel sorry for himself and allows himself to release the pent-up misery that has been teetering just beyond reach for days.

He stays just like that for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, curled around their pillow. He drinks on and off, chasing not a drunken high, but a peaceful escape. He thumbs through his phone, reading old messages they’d sent to one another. He’s not sure what he’s looking for, exactly, but he hazily reckons that it’s a reason to not feel so utterly heartbroken. He remembers saying, not all that long ago, that Donghae was not who he loved. So he searches for reassurance that his statement had been true, that he doesn’t and never did love Lee Donghae. His search is futile. All he sees are genuine smiles in the pictures they’d taken and he can hear the tender admissions of adoration whispered into his ear.

He begins to feel angry. How could Donghae do this to him? After all, Donghae had been the one to ask Ryeowook to move in with him. It had been Donghae to make the first move. Donghae insisted that they would work, that they could be happy together. He moves to pour himself another glass, but sloshes the liquid over his hand and onto the sheets. The smell hits him and he feels sharp bile rise up in his throat. He swallows it back with another wave of self-pity. Then guilt. He had been the one to choose Donghae as his rebound. He knew this was going to happen eventually. Donghae and Hyukjae had been so perfect together. Their breakup had been so sudden and unexpected. Ryeowook tells himself he shouldn’t be surprised that things should turn out this way.

As these thoughts run through his mind again, the crying begins again. He feels so pitiful, doing nothing but lying in the dark crying, but he doesn’t know what else he can do. Donghae has Hyukjae to help him get over this bump in the road. Ryeowook has no one.

Then Jongwoon is hovering over him, cupping Ryeowook’s cheeks with both hands, thumbs brushing . Ryeowook vaguely wonders how Jongwoon even got in the apartment, then he thinks, Donghae never remembers to lock the door, and a fresh wave of tears washes down his face.

“How much have you had?” Jongwoon mumbles to himself, eyeing the half-finished bottle on the bedside table. He sits on the bed, legs crossed beneath himself, and lightly down Ryeowook’s back with his fingertips, as if he’s afraid he doesn’t have the permission or right to be touching Ryeowook. Ryeowook sits up and leans against his side, head flopping onto Jongwoon’s shoulder.

“Why are you here?” Ryeowook croaks.

“You texted me. Even sent your address when I asked,” Jongwoon says gently as he slips an arm around Ryeowook’s back to help hold him upright. Again, he asks, “How much have you had?”

“I don’t know. Not a lot.”

“I’m not believing that for a second. Now sit up straight and tell me what happened,” Jongwoon instructs. Suddenly, Ryeowook feels like all those years never passed. That he is still a wide-eyed youth, sitting on Jongwoon’s bed at three in the morning, stressed out about finals and graduation, and not a thirty-year-old line cook with only two relationships, both failed, under his belt. He remembers sitting with Jongwoon, the only light coming from the full moon out the window, spilling his fear-filled heart to the older man about his new job. Jongwoon would wrap his arms around him, just like he is now, and hold him close and whisper encouragement into his ear. Jongwoon would kiss away his insecurities and replace them with a love-induced haze that would combat any negativity for weeks to come. Nothing else mattered, back then, nothing but Jongwoon’s arms around his waist and their lips together and their hearts beating in tandem.

The tears won’t stop, and he chokes on his breath. Jongwoon’s grip around him tightens and he buries his face in Jongwoon’s neck. The old, familiar smell and comforting hold ground him, though, and eventually the tears dry up. He’s not exactly sure where his thoughts have taken him, still caught up in a confusion of Donghae and Jongwoon, when he pulls away and sits up on his own. He looks up and meets Jongwoon’s worried gaze and nearly swoons. He then realizes that he had indeed pitched backwards when Jongwoon’s hands grip his elbows and pull him upright, bringing his face into sharper focus. Ryeowook can’t break the eye contact, even though he feels like he might drown in Jongwoon’s eyes, liquid pools of black, so concerned for him. So present and tangible, and it’s the first time Ryeowook really grasps the concept that Jongwoon is here. He’s sitting on the same bed, holding him in his arms, and it feels so right.

He tilts his head and leans in, catching Jongwoon sloppily on the corner of his mouth. He reaches up with one uncertain hand and cups the back of Jongwoon’s head, pulling him in and fitting their lips better together. Jongwoon lets himself be kissed, pliant and willing. It’s soft, hesitant, breakable, just a slow slide of dry lip followed by tentative tongue. After a minute or so, Jongwoon pulls away, his hand coming up to pull Ryeowook’s away from his neck.

“Ryeowook,” Jongwoon says and brushes the hair away from Ryeowook’s eyes. “What happened?”

Ryeowook doesn’t answer. He just grabs Jongwoon by the collar and drags him in for another kiss, anything to stop the questions. He’s barely seated himself on Jongwoon’s lap, tongue working furiously against Jongwoon’s pursed lips, when Jongwoon grabs him by the hips and shoves him off. Ryeowook sprawls on his back with a soft thump and stares at the ceiling, unmoving. When Jongwoon leans over him, he rolls onto his side and tenses up.

“You’re a mess,” Jongwoon sighs. “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of you.” He begins getting Ryeowook ready for bed, removing the belt and jeans he’d never bothered to change out of and tucking the blankets around him. He smoothes Ryeowook’s bangs away from his face and sighs through his nose. Ryeowook is already asleep, as far as he can tell, so he leans down and brushes his lips across Ryeowook’s forehead. He straightens and turns off the lamp, casting the room in safe darkness. Before he can turn to leave, Ryeowook’s hand finds his wrist.

“Stay with me?”

Jongwoon doesn’t hesitate to remove his jacket and slide under the covers behind Ryeowook, spooning him close from behind.

…

Donghae comes home early the next morning.

“You’re here?” Donghae asks when he walks into the kitchen and finds Jongwoon fiddling with the coffee pot.

“He asked me to come. Coffee?”

Donghae nods and slides onto a chair at the table. Jongwoon brings him a mug and sits down opposite him, clearly uneasy. They sip their drinks in silence, staring out into space. Finally, Donghae slams his cup down with a growl and wipes at a frustrated tear.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t hurt him. I said this thing with Hyukjae wasn’t going to last. I was only supposed to meet him for coffee once.” Donghae puts his head down on the table and covers it with his arms. “, I really messed this up.”

“I’m not going to pretend I know everything, or that I know what’s best. Hell, I don’t even know what happened last night, but didn’t you see this coming? If he was so unhappy, didn’t you notice?” Jongwoon asks.

“I don’t know. I thought it could work. I thought it was working,” he sighs.

“He told me as much,” Jongwoon agrees.


“Why? What’s he saying behind my back?” Donghae isn’t angry, Jongwoon notices with surprise. He looks tired.

“Well, last night he was pretty drunk. He didn’t say much at all, really.”

Donghae looks confused. “What about the other times? He must have mentioned me before.”

“He told you about Christmas Eve?”

“You mean the last time you saw him was two months ago?”

“We ran into each other that night. It was the first time I’d seen him in years. We got some drinks and he told me about you. He said he wished he loved you.”

“He told me you’d been seeing each other as often as Hyukjae and I.” Donghae’s face crumples and picks at a spot on his jeans.

“That’s just like him, isn’t it? Suffering to make others feel better,” Jongwoon says fondly. After a moment he drinks the last of his coffee and stands. “I’d better go.”

“Wait!” Donghae jumps up as well. “What do I do?”

“That’s for you two to work out. He has my number if he wants me.” Jongwoon stands as he talks and slings his coat over his shoulders. Jongwoon leaves the kitchen and it isn’t long until the front door creaks open and shuts.

Donghae sits again. The coffee goes cold and he waits as the morning light brightens to daylight. There is a shift of fabric in the other room, a quiet groan, and the creak of springs. Donghae stands, looking lost. He wipes at his jeans and ruffles his hair. He takes a deep breath and walks down the hallway.

Ryeowook is sitting up in bed, looking like he feels absolutely terrible. When he sees Donghae come in the door his stomach tightens. Dark bags weigh down the older man’s eyes and he is wearing the same clothes from the day before. He looks miserable.

“Hi,” Donghae says quietly, stopping in the doorway.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Ryeowook replies, tugging the collar of his shirt back in place where it had slipped down his shoulder.

“I still live here.” Donghae crosses the room and sits on the far side of the bed. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Ryeowook sighs. He rubs his face, frowning at the scratch of stubble against his palm. “Yes.”

“Ryeowook, I never meant to hurt you. I don’t know how to make you understand. I don’t know where to even start to apologize.”

“You don’t have to. We both wanted it to work, but it didn’t. I told you I’m not angry with you. I don’t blame you for going back to Hyukjae. I’m happy to see you together.”

“Jongwoon told me that you didn’t love me. He said you told him that. Is that true? Do you not love me?” Donghae picks at a loose thread on the blanket.

“Don’t do this to me, Donghae. Please.”

“It’s not true, then, is it? You love me.”

“Of course I do, but I’m not right for you. Hyukjae is.”

“What about you, though? I don’t want you to be lonely and heartbroken again.” Donghae scoots closer and takes Ryeowook’s hands in his, giving them a squeeze.

“I’m a grownup. I’ll be okay.” Ryeowook squeezes his Donghae’s hands in return and shows him a weak smile. “I’ll find someone else.”

“Jongwoon?”

Ryeowook pauses, eyebrows scrunching up in concentration. “He was here last night, wasn’t he?” Donghae nods. Ryeowook groans and flops back onto the pillows. He covers his face with his arms and whines. “I knew it. I hoped it was a dream. God, I could die.”

“I saw him this morning when I came back. He said to call him if you needed anything.”

Ryeowook doesn’t respond. Eventually, Donghae gives his knee a gentle pat and gets up. Ryeowook hears him rummaging around in the closet for a bit before the bathroom door opens and shower knobs are turned.

“Donghae!” Ryeowook calls. Donghae comes back out as Ryeowook sits up. The water is still running.

"Just... promise me one thing," Ryeowook says quietly, gaze caught on his hands, refusing to meet Donghae's eyes.

"Anything," Donghae agrees.

"Promise you won't leave me. I just lost my boyfriend, I don't think I could stand to lose my best friend, too."

Donghae comes back to the bed and clambers to Ryeowook's side. He gathers him up in his arms and a warm hand down his back. Ryeowook digs his face into Donghae's shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut to ward off tears. He's done crying, he decides. Things have finally resolved the way he thought they would; there is no use in staying upset.

"Don't worry," Donghae says into his hair. "I told you I'm not leaving you.”

Donghae gives him a final squeeze and gets up to return to his shower. Ryeowook climbs out of bed and sets about straightening the sheets. With that finished, he goes into the kitchen and makes a meager breakfast of toast and jam, ears trained on the rush of water through the pipes in the wall. When it’s turned off, he gathers clothes and trades Donghae for the shower.

When he’s finished and standing before the mirror with his face lathered up and a razor in hand, Donghae peeks in the door. “Who are you getting all pretty for?” Donghae teases. Ryeowook gives him a sharp look, not sure how much flirting he can handle right now.

“I have to go to work tonight,” Ryeowook sighs.

“Nope,” Donghae says. “I called in for you. Thought you’d appreciate a day off.”

“Were they angry?” Ryeowook begins shaving anyway, dragging the razor methodically down his cheek, eyes trained strictly on himself in the mirror and not Donghae’s reflection.

“Naw, I said you weren’t feeling good and they told you to rest up.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ryeowook responds quietly, starting on his upper lip.

“Stop worrying. Take a nap later and eat something filling. I have to go to work, though. I’ll be back tonight. Text me if you need anything.”

Ryeowook nods mutely. It’s strange, he muses, the atmosphere between them. It’s still light, comfortable, familiar, when he had expected it to be awkward and depressing. He smiles when Donghae ruffles his damp hair before leaving and a hollow thump rings through his chest.

Finding nothing better to do, Ryeowook grabs a book and sprawls across the couch in the living room. Donghae calls out a final goodbye before the door slams shut and he’s left alone again. He buries himself in his book, allowing the story to completely envelope his mind and keep his thoughts from wandering to a dangerous topic. It works, almost. He figures he should have picked up a tabloid or reference book instead of a thick novel about love and loss, but, if he squints, he can pretend he is the main character and fall into the escapism.

Then, he hears a knock at the door and his fantasy is shattered. He sighs and pulls himself off the couch and goes to open the door, cursing Donghae for forgetting his keys again. When he pulls open the door, however, it isn't Donghae standing in the hallway, cursing a forgotten water bottle or case of CDs. It's Jongwoon, wearing a small, nervous smile and carrying a bag from a take-out restaurant.

"Why are you here?" Ryeowook asks when they settle on the couch and open the Styrofoam containers.

"Got a text," Jongwoon says, waving his phone.

“I need to change the password on my phone,” Ryeowook moans.

“You didn’t want me over?”

“Donghae probably texted you while I was showering. You’re here though, might as well stay a bit.”

“You sure? I can go.”

“Stay,” Ryeowook commands, digging into his portion.

Jongwoon nods and tucks into his own meal. They eat in silence, both of their minds reeling for a conversation starter. This is the opportunity he’d been waiting for, a chance to be with Jongwoon without anything tying him down and holding him back. He wonders why all he feels, then, is held back. The food settles heavily in his stomach as guilt gnaws at his thoughts again.

“It’s a nice apartment,” Jongwoon says quietly. His eyes are casting around the living room, taking in the worn hardwood floors and white, antique furniture that had been scavenged through yard sales and the like. Ryeowook follows his gaze, memories springing to mind—Donghae chasing him around the coffee table when they first moved in, Donghae leaning against the doorframe while watching him cook in the kitchen, Donghae pinning him against the huge bay windows and kissing him for the entire world to see. Ryeowook gives his head a shake and warns himself not to go down that path again.

“It’s home,” Ryeowook replies, voice tight. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“No problem. It was good to see you again.”

“Even if I was being an idiot.”

“You weren’t being an idiot.” Ryeowook raises his eyebrows in disgruntled disbelief and shoves another plastic spoonful into his mouth. “You were just upset.”

“Doesn’t excuse me for dragging you all the way out here.”

“I didn’t mind.” Jongwoon scoots closer and takes a lock of Ryeowook’s hair between his fingers, twisting it gently. He smiles at Ryeowook, eyebrows lifted hopefully.

“Stop that.” Ryeowook swats at his hand and refuses to meet his gaze. “Just… stop. I can’t take this right now.”

“I’m just playing with your hair,” Jongwoon laughs, letting the hair fall from his fingertips. “It’s no big deal.”

“You know what I mean, Jongwoon. Donghae and I just broke up this morning.”


“Did you?”

“What do you mean? Of course we did. He has Hyukjae and I’m okay with that.”

“Are you?”

“Stop it!” Ryeowook jumps up from the couch and walks over to the window. He gazes out at the dreary weather, the beginnings of rain spattering the pane. “It’s none of your business what Donghae and I do. It’s none of my business what Donghae and Hyukjae do. They have their lives now and I’ll have mine.”

“You aren’t happy about that, though,” Jongwoon argues, coming up behind him. Ryeowook tenses, expecting a hand to lay on his shoulder or his waist, but it never comes. Jongwoon stops a few feet away and stands behind him, staring into the opaque reflection of Ryeowook’s eyes in the window. “You weren’t happy and you aren’t now.”

“Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I’m not. But I will be. I can’t keep getting hung up on the past. Maybe that’s why Donghae and I never worked out. Maybe we could have, but I was too busy glancing back. Hoping my old life would walk through the door and take me back.”

“You were waiting for me,” Jongwoon says simply. “And I never came.”

“I shouldn’t have expected you to. I left you so suddenly. I had no right to hope you would come back. If I had realized that sooner Donghae could have been spared so much misery. He wouldn’t have had to have such a ty two years with me. He could have had Hyukjae, moved to Paris, been happy.” Ryeowook turns and faces Jongwoon. He leans against the window and shivers as the coolness of the glass seeps into his skin.

“I’m here now.” Jongwoon steps closer, toes stopping right before Ryeowook’s.

“You’re doing so well, though. I heard your new song on the radio. You don’t need to be dragged into all of this right now.”

“I thought you were happy to see me. That night, I mean. Christmas.” Jongwoon shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “I was happy to see you.”

“I still can’t remember why we fought,” Ryeowook says quietly.

Jongwoon brushes his bangs away from his forehead and gives him a small smile. “Maybe it doesn’t matter.”

…

It is a quarter past two in the afternoon when Ryeowook begins getting dressed. He pulls his clothes out of boxes, still yet to be unpacked since moving into a smaller, one-person apartment. The apartment is nowhere as nice as his previous flat with Donghae had been, but it already feels like home. His books are on the shelves, the kitchen is organized exactly how he likes, and everything is neat and tidy. The only evidence of the recent move is the orderly stack of boxes that lines the hallway. He pulls on a light jacket, mindful of the weather that is becoming steadily colder, and leaves his apartment. A short elevator ride down three stories spits him out on the ground floor and he exits the building, stepping out into the crisp October air. They are supposed to meet at three, but it’s a Saturday and Ryeowook knows how busy the café can be. He sets off down the sidewalk, on a path he knows by heart after these long months. Leaves crunch under his sneakers as he tramps along, attention focused on taking in all the colors and smells of the season. A small smile plays at his lips and he finally feels happy.

Sure enough, when he gets there, all the tables inside are taken. He waits inside, scanning the shop for anyone who seems to be leaving.

“I knew you’d get here early,” someone says right into his ear. Ryeowook jumps and whirls around and finds Donghae standing behind him, cheeks a little rosy from the wind.

“There are no tables,” Ryeowook says.

“We can wait,” Donghae shrugs. He takes Ryeowook’s spot against the wall and lets Ryeowook lean back against his chest lightly. “How’s work?”

“Good. I’m thinking about taking that offer I told you about.”

“The pastries or whatever it was? You hate baking.”

“I thought it might be fun to learn though.” Ryeowook sees movement on the other side of the café. A group of women stand up from their table, a circular booth in the corner, and begin gathering their purses and trash. “Table.”

“Go, go!” Donghae shoves him forward and they slip onto the bench just as the woman leave. “Did you want to order something?”

“I still don’t know what I want,” Ryeowook says, taking the menu. “How’s your new class going?”

“I don’t know a thing about Zumba. I wish someone else would have volunteered to teach it. My hip hop class is getting more popular. I might have to split it into two different classes.”

“That’s exciting though! And I’m sure the pay is getting better?” Ryeowook waggles his eyebrows over the menu he’s perusing.

“A little bit, yeah,” Donghae laughs.

“Then stop complaining.”

“Crap,” Donghae groans, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He checks the screen and sees it’s from work and climbs over Ryeowook to take the call in the bathroom.

Ryeowook’s digital watch beeps three o’clock and the door to the café swings open. Hyukjae bustles in, wearing a coat much too heavy for the weather, and spins around, eyes searching. He sees Donghae crossing the room and traces him back to Ryeowook at the table. He grins, lips curling over gums as he makes his way over.

“Hey there, Ryeowook!” he chirps, sliding in across from Ryeowook. He pulls his cap off and drops it beside him. “How are you?”

“Good. Almost unpacked,” Ryeowook answers lightly. He finally looks up from the menu and stares bewilderedly at Hyukjae. “Your hair…”

“Do you like it? Donghae hates it,” Hyukjae laughs. His hair is a horrifying shade of turquoise, the dye uneven in some places, but as Ryeowook contemplates it, he finds it suits Hyukjae as a whole perfectly.

“It’s loud,” Ryeowook says. “I like it.”

“You’re much sweeter than Donghae. Maybe I should date you instead,” Hyukjae teases. Ryeowook scrunches his nose up in response.

“You’re not my type.”

“You’re ugly.”

“Hey!” Donghae barks, standing at the end of the table with his hands on his hips. “Don’t call him ugly! He’s much cuter than you.”

Hyukjae sticks out his tongue and scoots over for Donghae to sit down. Ryeowook laughs and sets the menu down, gaze sweeping over the café. A waitress begins making her way to their table but Donghae waves her away, snatching the menu up with his other hand.

“Did you decide yet, Ryeowook?” Hyukjae asks, peeking over Donghae’s shoulder.

“I don’t know. I was thinking lemonade.”

“And?” Donghae raises a critical eyebrow at him.

“And what?”

“Did you eat today? You should get a sandwich; the delis are good here.”

Ryeowook shrugs, then jumps as a hand lands on his shoulder. He whips around and finds Jongwoon looming over him with an amused smile. Ryeowook smiles back, eyes crinkling, and makes room. Jongwoon sits beside him and wraps an arm around his back. As they shift and make room, Jongwoon leans in and brushes his lips against Ryeowook’s cheek. It’s light and brief and Ryeowook flushes when Jongwoon pulls away and leans his elbows on the tabletop.

“Did you guys order yet?”

…