today i went through the woogyu tag on tumblr and found two things: someone recommended this fic (shoutout for that person; marry me, maybe?) and also the supposed change of roommates? while everybody is wondering what's going on with woogyu, i'm asking myself, why does the maknae get his own room? but enough rambling, let's get to the last (!) chapter:

excuse the strange formatting of the beginning. it's intentional. and i made a random reference to another of my one-shots. not relevant, but i'll give you a cookie if you find it. i bet it fits in the usb port.

Sungjong feels guilty.

Three hours later, the immense feeling is pinning him against the bed, brutal and sharp breaths of it pressing against his neck. The napkin doesn't help, either. From his place in front of him, it accuses him of every sins and mistakes he's made since he decided to approach Woohyun that day, or when he bumped into Sunggyu and dumped his papers.

Sungjong's read the note one too many times, every time each more torturing than the former. Woohyun's handwriting is messy, and still confidential. The message is not easy to decipher, but understandable enough; it has sentences too hurried and the words lessen from the beginning to end, clinging to the edges with curves and bad spacing. It goes from trivial things—

[you forgot your favorite book at home

(and)

dubu howls at night—he says he mi
sse
s you]

—to more intimate matters that has Sungjong feel like he's invading their privacy,—

[i still remember the contrast of yo
ur pale skin and the blank ink of the infinity ta
ttoo on your hip
pbone

(and a)

sometimes i wake up because i'm dreaming of that sma
ll mole on the underside of your white thigh and i think you're
next
to
me

that curves so much it ends up being read vertically.]

—to end with a bold I miss you that fits in all the spaces. (Besides an almost illegible footnote that says I still keep a box full of you, of us, when we were teenagers) But, out of all the things that hurt Sungjong, is the written remember that convenience store? i'd like to see you there next to a bolded number that passed an hour ago, that has him feeling like the most selfish person in the world.

∞

The next morning Sungjong doesn't go to school. He still wakes up at the same time (after barely sleeping) and wears his uniform to make her mother believe. The napkin feels ten times heavier than yesterday, but he's determined to tell Sunggyu, even though it may be too late. His first thought is to go to the Studio where Sunggyu teaches in a surprise visit, but then he realizes he doesn't know where it is. He also doesn't know where the elder lives, which makes the surprise factor useless.

When the boy calls Sunggyu to ask about the address of his workplace, claiming that what he has to give to him is important enough to skip school, the only thing he encounters is a tired sigh and nagging about his duties at the school.

"But hyung, it's important," he replies to the phone for the nth time since the other man's refused to cooperate with him. "Urgent."

"If it's too important, why don't you tell me now?" the man retorts with a nasal voice. "I'm not at the Studio."

"Then tell me where you are." Sungjong feels the stares of people as he speaks, maybe too loud. He beams, bowing here and there to later move to a less crowded place. "It's not something I can just tell you here and now." The crumbled napkin feels sharp against his fingers, as if was made of knives instead of the flimsy material. "I have something to give to you."

"Are you sure you can't wait? I'll see you tomorrow after work." By now, Sunggyu's tired voice acquires an annoyed edge, leaving Sungjong's body trembling with a bit of uncertainty. An annoyed Sunggyu must not be a good thing. Sungjong keeps insisting, however, until the older man gives up and ends up texting him the address of his apartment.

Later, when the boy's at the front door, the courage he's gained over the night and morning becomes steam as humid as the atmosphere after it's rained outside and flies away. Both hands clench against the crumbled piece of writing, so sweaty the napkin gets soggy. Sungjong panics when he realizes the state of it. He tries to straighten it back. The action ends up causing more damage; the ink smudges and some words become (even more) illegible.

At the same time, the apartment door opens with a slight creak and Sunggyu appears, wearing a disheveled hair and a runny nose, besides his tired eyes and lazy clothing. Sungjong snaps back from his despair, hiding the napkin behind his back as a reflect. Then, when he realizes the irrationality behind his acts, tries to look make it look casual and slides the item inside his back pocket.

Sunggyu, for that matter, doesn't seem to realize his antics, muttering, "Come in," and sliding the door further open. Sungjong bows and steps inside, nervous. He takes off his shoes and leaves in the entrance, observing his surroundings.

"How are you?"

"Not really sick, it's more like allergies."

The apartment is anything but big, with the bedroom in the living room and the living room in the kitchen. Books and music sheets are scattered everywhere, on shelves, small tables, cushions, and the bed, the only clean place being a spot next to the window that leads to a balcony. A small electronic piano and acoustic guitar are lying next to the bed, too, also covered in papers. The place screams warmth and comfort, but between the folds Sungjong can see the sadness sticking everywhere like dust covers the surface and gets between the creaks of an abandoned house.

"Sit down, do you want anything?" Sunggyu places two cups on the table in front of his bed, motioning the boy to move out of the entrance. "I don't really like sweets, so I don't have much to offer."

Sungjong shakes his head. "It's okay, hyung. I wasn't thinking of staying much."

He's telling the truth. His original plan was to give him the napkin, apologize with a ninety-degree bow, and then leave. He wasn't even thinking of entering the apartment, let alone sit and talk with his hyung. The truth is that he's scared of the man's reaction; staying doesn't sound like a good option. But, on the other side, leaving without explanation doesn't sound good either. He sighs, burdened by such contradictory feelings.

"You're already skipping school to be here," comes as the response from the redhead. "Might as well stay until it's time for you to go to work. It's not much anyway."

The boy sighs, unable to argue with that kind of reasoning. (A part of him, though, doesn't want to fight it, but not for the reasons one may think. Guilt. He needs to clear things up after all.) He walks up to the table and sits in the small cushion put for him, facing Sunggyu.

"If you don't like sweets," he muses, looking at the cup in front of him and remembering, "then that time at the café…?"

"You mean with the strawberry cake?" Sunggyu asks, putting a bit of sugar in his own steaming cup. He smiles. "For the loneliness. You can't always have bitter things, can you?" Sungjong considers his words. watching the steam rise from his cup and dissolve into the air, he wonders if Woohyun thinks the same; if that's why he always orders the same thing. "So, what was the thing you wanted to show me?"

The boy cringes at the mention of his reason for being at the elder's home. Wiggling in his seat, he takes out the napkin—which by now is crumbled, dirty, and ripped in some parts—and without a word, gives it to Sunggyu.

"Hyung I—" Again, the same helpless start as before. I've ruined your opportunity to get together with Woohyun-hyung. I'm sorry. I was hoping we could stay like at the beginning, with me trying to cheer you up—both of you. I thought that maybe if I ignored the letter, I could have you for myself. Only a bit of each of you. I'm sorry. I'm selfish. "I'm sorry."

He bows his head until it's hitting the table, and doesn't look up to see if the older man is reading. If he is, his breathing doesn't show any difference in his reaction. Could he, like me, see the I miss you's left unsaid?

"So," Sunggyu starts, composed. Sungjong's head shoots back up, to find the red-haired man looking at him with the same curiosity of that day when they stood side-by-side on the bus. "This is…"

"From yesterday." Sungjong looks back down, ashamed of himself. "I didn't want to give it to you."

But then Sunggyu lets out a quiet, soothing laugh and jokes, "I guess now you know I have a tattoo on my hipbone." Sungjong's cheeks heat up, but he nods nonetheless. The insinuation behind his words catches his attentions. You read the letter, didn't you? "Ah, Woohyun was there when I got it done." Sunggyu's voice becomes dreamy, as distant as it can be. Through his bangs, Sungjong can see his eyes lost somewhere else and the absent movement of his hand stirring the coffee. "We were the kind of kids who used to drink and smoke in alleyways next to convenience stores without anyone noticing and screw around when our parents weren't looking. Not that I'm proud of it"—He laughs; although the sound is odd enough to be confused with a cough—"but that's how it was."

"Hyung, can I ask"—Sungjong regrets starting but, before Sunggyu's encouraging stare, he continues—"why did you two break up?"

The elder nods, considering his next words. "I guess distance got between us. We were so used to each other that our relationship stopped meaning much." His words end in an odd edge, like questioning. "There's nothing worse than that. Distance, I mean. I wanted to leave—to be a singer, and Woohyun, um, how do you say it without making it sound cliché? Oh well, he let me g—" A loud sneeze interrupts him. He stands up, looking for his tissues. If Sungjong didn't know better, he would have though there were tears when he blowed his nose. "Damn allergies, what was I saying? Oh yeah—I moved out after a fight, decided I was going to show him."

"How long ago was this?" Sungjong asks, watching Sunggyu move around the apartment as he blows his nose. He's trying to distract himself, to act nonchalant.

"Let's see. Three, four years ago?" Sunggyu opens a drawer and takes out a bottle. Before swallowing a pill next to his almost-gone coffee, he says, "It didn't quite work." His voice acquires a bittersweet tone. "Eventually I lost contact with him and well, moved on."

But you still love him, don't you? Sungjong wants to ask. Instead, what comes out of his mind is another annoying "Sunggyu-hyung, I—"

"Let me guess," Sunggyu cuts him off. "You're sorry?" Sungjong nods, even though the man's question is rhetoric. "It's not that much, I guess. I mean yeah, you did something wrong by not giving me the letter on time, but—how do I say it? It wasn't going to made much impact in my life."

What?

"Are you saying you weren't going to go anyway?" The boy asks, incredulous. Sunggyu shrugs. He puts the bottle's cap back on. Yes, he says with his silence, with his apparent indifference. "Why?" Why? He wants to yell.

"It's not that easy as it sounds." The redhead places both hands around the cup and, when Sungjong remembers where he's seen that action before, he feels as if he's been punched in the stomach—but he knows he shouldn't be surprised anymore. "Woohyun and I… Already have our separate lives." He smiles a lifeless smile and Sungjong's heart breaks a little more. "This may sound silly but I don't want to go back to him just because I wasn't successful."

"So you don't want him anymore?" Sungjong himself would laugh at his own words if he could. The thought is ridiculous; it's so obvious they still want each other it hurts—or at least for him it does, and maybe for each of them too. "That's,"—He struggles to find the right word—"That's stupid."

Sunggyu widens his eyes comically, to later make them go back to normal. A nostalgic smile adorns his features. "It's not that," he says. "I do miss him, like he says. I wake up at nights and think he's next to me, invading my side of the pillow." He takes a last, long sip of his coffee and puts the empty cup down. "Or that Dubu is resting between us. You know Dubu, right? He was a puppy when I last saw him." His eyes get that shine, that spark that is both sad and enthusiastic. However, it's gone as soon as it comes. "But…"

When he doesn't finish, Sungjong has to push him to speak. "But what?"

"It's just, what if we end up fighting again? I mean, not only that, what if we've changed so much we don't get along anymore?"

"There's no way." Finally, Sungjong has the confidence to say his thoughts (or a bit of them, as they're a tangled mess of contradictions now) "I saw you at the café that other night. Hyung, why don't you give it a chance?" He's about to contradict whatever Sunggyu has to say, but his eyes catch the clock placed on the wall behind the red-haired man and he realizes it's almost time for his shift to start. "Hyung, I have to go."

He finishes his—now at room temperature—coffee, grimacing at the bitterness, and stands up. Sunggyu follows him to the door with numb steps, dazed by the suddenness of the movements and slight emotional stress, and asking when does his shift start. At the response, ten minutes from now, he panics and helps him put on his shoes.

"Are you sure you can make it? It's a fifteen minute ride from here."

"I'll be alright. Hyung, I'm not a kid," Sungjong whines while the elder is stubborn in helping him tie his right tennis shoe.

"Then don't act like one," Sunggyu laughs. The boy stops struggling and observes the man. He looks different; less lonely. Then, despite the lack of time, he places a hand on the redhead's shoulder and makes him stop.

"Hyung, do you still dream in Technicolor?" he asks, as if that could change something. Sunggyu gasps, surprised, but composes himself back in a second and finishes helping him. His face twists in something languid and yet hopeful.

"He told you that."

(The boy takes that as a yes.)

When Sungjong is back on his feet and the apartment door is open, he gains enough courage to turn back to Sunggyu and place a short-lived kiss on the man's dry lips. "You should really come to see Woohyun, he's always at the café."

And he's gone before the man can reply.
 

∞

Woohyun is already there when Sungjong reaches his workplace, strawberry cake and clear cup of coffee in front of him. After watching him, the boy looks up at his boss to ask for a break, who only shakes his head and waves at him to go. The place is not full like the other day, but since that day, more people has come—Not that it matters now. The customers can wait; he has to talk with his hyung.

"Coffee for one," Sungjong says, placing another cup in front of the male. The man thanks him, grabbing sugar packets and opening them. Sungjong sits on his usual place, watching him. Everything about him screams tired. "Sunggyu hyung," he starts, and Woohyun flinches, but tries his best not to let it show, "he didn't go, did he?" Woohyun stops dumping sugar on his coffee and shakes his head. "How long did you wait?"

It takes a while, but Woohyun's hardly disinterested reply comes as something more than a whisper. "I just got back from there."

The answer manages to make a fissure in what's left of Sungjong's chest. Resting his forehead on both hands, he takes a deep breath. Like what happened with Sunggyu, he doesn't know what's going to be the outcome of his actions, but he has to speak. Guilt's eating him away.

"I didn't give him the napkin, hyung," he speaks between careful intervals, without looking up. He, however, can feel Woohyun's surprised eyes on him, and he sighs to restrain the tears forming on his eyes. He has to know how to face this situation as the mature person he claims to be, without tears.

"Why?"

Sungjong looks up, eyes hopefully dry. "I didn't want to."

"Oh. Is that so?" Woohyun leans back, looking through the window. The grin on his face looks vacant. "To be fair, I don't think Sunggyu would have gone."

All of a sudden, Sunjong feels mad (with him, for saying that Sunggyu wasn't going to go and still wait for him; with Sunggyu, for not giving a second chance to Woohyun, to them; with himself, for making this matter more complicated than it should have been) but, despite him wanting to say It's my fault, you two have the right to be mad with me, he says nothing about it.

"I'm so so so sorry, hyung." He says instead. His own words taste panful and familiar on his mouth; disgusting. Still, he keeps going. "Is there okay for me to ask why you broke up?"

"Since you already asked, I might as well give it a shot and try to answer." The steam from Woohyun's cup lingers in the air for a while before disappearing as he stirs the drink. "We started becoming tense—distant until it was me against his passion." Woohyun, too, looks at the steam rise from the cup and disappear, lost in memories. "I didn't … I didn't support him. I still wanted to keep him with me, though."

"Restraining him?" Sungjong's voice seems to take him out of wherever he is. He looks up, meeting the boy's eyes. A twist of lips adorn his face, and his eyes are like an open window that leads to the sea during a winter day.

"More like cutting his wings." He looks back down, playing with the spoon. "I realized it was wrong on my part too late, but I didn't… I didn't mean to. I wanted the best for him, I just didn't know what was the best for him."

"Why don't—didn't you say that to him?" I don't deserve to know this, he has to.

"I wasn't sure." The same Woohyun whose smiles are so easy they almost look natural in a second is back, with voice lighter and eyes closed.

"Do you," Sungjong manages to start after silence has stretched between them for a good time. "Do you think that Sunggyu would come back because he didn't become an artist?"

"Sunggyu?" Woohyun's head stretches forward, as if saying are we talking about the same person? "No." Before Sungjong can ask further, he elaborates, "He's not that type of person. Going back because something didn't work out? He's too stubborn for that."

This time is Sungjong who leans back. Like he expected, Woohyun's thoughts are nothing like the red-haired man said. Sunggyu's fears are pointless. Then, he realizes the contradiction between Woohyun and Sunggyu's words.

"So what you're saying is," Sungjong says, "Sunggyu won't come back because he's too stubborn?"

Woohyun makes a uh sound too dragged, tilting his head to a side. "Yes and no." He scratches his head. "I mean, for the most part, but there are other things. Like me hurting him, for example. Weren't you paying attention?"

"It's hard to figure things out with you two like this!"

"What do you want to figure out?"

"He told me he still dreams in Technicolor." Sungjong's blunt words don't answer the question, but still, it shakes Woohyun' face transform (again). The man looks at him for a moment, tilting his head to figure out something—And a part of Sungjong's dying to know what.

Finally, the brunette speaks again. "Sungjongie, are you by any chance, playing cupid?"

The boy is at loss of words. Is that what he's doing?

"If I were I would've given Sunggyu-hyung your note," he says instead. Then, he surprises (yet again) Woohyun again by confessing, "I like you." And I like Sunggyu too, but I couldn't tell you before. That's why I couldn't give him the napkin. Because I wanted both of you. To make you both happy, but not like this. Not with each other. "But I have no chance." I've realized that I lost even before starting, when you told me about your lover and your eyes were bright. Woohyun smiles as sadly and beautifully as he always does as a response, making Sungjong wonder, "Did you know all this time?"

"Your not the only one who can read people."

Sungjong sighs, embarrassment more than evident on his face and seriousness of minutes ago long forgotten. "You must have laughed at me the whole time."

"No." Woohyun shakes his head. At the same time, Howon calls him from the counter, announcing his break's over, and Sungjong stands up to pick up the empty cups and plate. Woohyun's finished eating the food and drinking the coffee between the intervals of their conversation. "It's… cute."

Remembering his boost of confidence with Sunggyu, Sungjong leans a bit forward (but not enough for Woohyun to notice) and asks, "Hyung, if I had met you before Sunggyu did, would you have gone out with me?"

"That must have had to be nine, ten years ago,"—Sungjong realizes that's too much time compared to the weeks he's known the couple—"But yeah, I'd have liked you."

Before the man has time to change his mind (or to realize there's no way for him to have liked an eight-year-old, and the boy was messing with him) Sungjong leans forward and gives him a kiss shorter than the one he gave Sunggyu, eyes catching a flash of red through the window.

"You need to tell him that," he says at the same time the entrance's bell chirps open and Sunggyu's there, looking around. "My break's over."

"Hey Sungjong," he mutters a bit too loud when his sight catches them, before sneezing. Sungjong gives him a light smile and walks up to him, no menus on his hand. "I have the coupons from the other night a-and I thought," he stutters, "I mean I did. No—I came to use them."

"Of course you did," Sungjong mutters under his breath, dragging Sunggyu to the table where Woohyun looks pretty much astonished. Before either of them can protest, he's walking back to the counter, where Howon's saying he has to cover another shift because Kahi's sick and he was the only one late.

This time he doesn't regret his decision.
 

∞

All through the afternoon, Woohyun and Sunggyu spend their time together, enclosed in their own personal bubble. After Woohyun bows deeply (and if the boy squints his eyes enough, he can see the man rubbing his eyes with a smile), and Sunggyu leans back to sigh, the desolation surrounding both men lightens. Sungjong is a bit jealous for both parts, because Sunggyu leans forward on the table from time to time, muttering secrets in Woohyun's ear made only for themselves.

The atmosphere around them is secretive and intimate. Every time the young waiter walks through that area, he sees a flash of a smile on either (or both) of them, and layers of sadness are peeling off one by one. A lady giving an affectionate goodbye kiss. They, however, keep an air of awkwardness surrounding every movement one of them makes and every quiet laugh the other lets out once in a while. It's like seeing a teenager couple on their first date, even though they're both grown-up males that have shared more than dates before.

Sungjong shakes his head, abashed with the thoughts on his mind. Sighing, he picks up the orders and busies himself with whatever he can to stop himself from spying on them. Once in a while though, when he's throwing a quick glance that is more routinary than anything else (he's used to look back to see if Woohyun needs something), Sunggyu catches him and his lips stretch in a smile that has the young waiter warm enough to keep working.

It's better than seeing them sad.
 

∞

Days later, after Sunggyu and Woohyun have made the café their meeting place ("It's because we like the coffee and pastries, Sungjongie") Sungjong leans on the counter and sighs. The couple is standing outside the café, waiting for the July's downpour to stop after telling Sungjong goodbye. Their hands interlace with such naturality it's overwhelming; as overwhelming as the heat after the rain. Their lips, too, find their way to glide smoothly against each other.

Watching them, Sungjong (finally) gives in to tears. He cries for several reasons: because Sunggyu's finally gotten himself a new bag; because Woohyun has finished the saga of books he was reading; because Sunggyu's coupons have expired long ago and he never used them; because they're interlacing fingers and kissing and suddenly Woohyun's pulling Sunggyu into the rain and they're running and everything is cliché but still heartwarming.

The boy lowers his head until it's touching the counter and lets out a shaky breath. Those are only some reasons of his tears, but the most important is that the layers of sadness that used to be as close as them as lovers are peeling away and only raw films of other emotions are left over.

"No moping on the counter, kid," a familiar voice shakes him out of his thoughts. The boy looks up to see his boss sitting next to him, reading today's newspaper without sparing a glance at him.

"Shut up, don't you see I'm sad," he snaps back, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he's overused that word for too long. Howon doesn't flinch at the rudeness of his words, however.

"Because of them?" He points to the couple without looking at them, still engrossed on the latest news. Sungjong doesn't bother to turn his head either; he already knows what they might be doing.

(But from the corner of his eye he can see Woohyun pulling Sunggyu in for another kiss and the other complying, both of them soaked and laughing like kids. A new wave of tears make its way out of his eyes.)

"What else could be the reason?"

"Listen Sungjong." Howon puts the paper down now that he's done with it (he might as well have looked through it to make it seem casual), leaning towards him. It almost looks rehearsed. "Those two are too infatuated with each other, but they liked you."

"And how would you know?" His voice cracks, words stumbling with each other; he must look miserable, too. The boy groans, too much for being mature.

"I'm the owner of this place." He pats the counter with a satisfied smile. "If I didn't notice things it would have gone bankrupt long ago." His boss shrugs noncomittaly. "But what I'm saying is that you don't need to cry for something like that. You reunited them. They both liked you enough to keep you around this long."

"Of course, listen to the douche give tips about love," Kahi, who happens to be passing with an order, says. Then, she comes back and sits in front of them, ignoring his boss. The look she gives to Sungjong is motherly and as soothing. "It's oka—"

"Should I remind you that I'm your boss?"

"Should I remind you that I'm older?"

"Being older doesn't pay you."

The woman turns to give him a sharp look, to later come back to Sungjong. "Ignore him, he's just a who hires girls with nice legs to sleep with them." Sungjong lifts his head, nodding. He can agree with that.

"There are different types of love, noona." Howon interjects. Both Sungjong and her turn to face him again, intrigued by his words. Who knows, maybe the boss can give him a good advice. "I loved her legs, she loved the fact I let her get away with a lot of the things she broke."

The boy sighs. From the corner of his eye, he can see the older woman doing the same. "Like I was saying," she starts again, as if Howon hadn't spoken. "It's okay for you to cry, Sungjongie." She cups Sungjong's cheeks and starts cleaning the semi-damp trail with her long fingers. "You should go out and meet people your age. It's too early for you to be involved in serious topics like these. To be this sad."

Sungjong nods despite not liking being treated like a baby. The advises might be corny, but they're only trying to help, he reminds himself. Some truth on they're words may be. When he's looking back up to thank them, however, he finds them arguing about that girl and the ideas you're putting on the kid, he's going to grow up with girly ideals.

Sighing, the boy rests his head back on the counter and closes his eyes, worn-out from crying. He decides to take a nap, words from his noona and his boss faint on his mind, dissipating just like Sunggyu and Woohyun and his heartache. Letting go may not sound so bad, and now that he's cried his frustration out, he may actually feel better.

Before falling asleep, Sungjong wonders if he could be able to dream in Technicolor.

dude, now i feel like, bad about sungjong. i'm just going to ship him with someone from teentop coughs ljoe coughs and become the captain of this crackship.

jokes (maybe) aside, so how was it? i'm not the best at endings, i apologize ^^U i hope you've liked it, though. tell me what you think? also, thank you for the feedback. it made me so happy to reply to all your comments, even though sometimes i feel like it's not enough (and the upvotes, they're nice, too). really, thank you.