Jiyong had been gone for a month. Seunghyun was too stubborn to do anything but sulk. He hadn’t done anything wrong, after all, so there was really no reason he needed to go after Jiyong. But as the days passed and there were no missed calls from Jiyong’s number, no nights where he heard a soft knock and an apologetic voice at his front door, he began to get a little desperate. He’d never meant to chase Jiyong off, never meant to force him into something that he really didn’t want to do.

He’d asked Daesung for so much advice already—but Daesung kept giving him the same answer (“Call him and apologize, you baby!”) which was an answer that Seunghyun didn’t particularly like. As unhappy as he was, he would rather sulk than call Jiyong up and apologize for something that was no fault of his.

His determination didn’t really last long. When he was taking the subway home, he saw Jiyong. Not in person, of course. But he saw an ad. An ad where there was a bright, smiling, happy Jiyong. And felt a pang of guilt and a pang of jealousy. He’d never managed to make Jiyong smile that brightly, but some dumb photographer could.

Maybe because the photographer isn’t tripping over his own balls to push the man into a relationship, he thought to himself bitterly. Okay, so he ed up.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell, his fingers falling immediately on the most familiar keys. The first time he called, Jiyong didn’t answer. He heaved a sigh and pocketed his phone once more. He didn’t touch his phone again until after he’d gotten off the subway. With a heart half full of hope, he reached into his pocket and flicked on his phone’s screen display. He’d hoped that it would display a missed call, but honestly, he wasn’t all that surprised when the only notification was a text from Daesung.

As he walked home, he fiddled with his phone, finally gathering up the courage once more to let his fingers recall the pattern of Jiyong’s number.

There was no answer again.

Of course that didn’t stop Seunghyun. Perhaps it was because of the weather, perhaps it was because of the ad, perhaps it was because of his disposition, or perhaps it was a combination of all three—Seunghyun stayed on the line, listening to Jiyong’s honey sweet voice pouring over the receiver and into his ear, telling him to leave a message. Under the circumstances, Seunghyun did rather well):

“Jiyong,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and scrunches his face. “I don’t know where you are, I don’t know why you left, but I would really like to see you again. I would really, really, like for you to come back.”  A pause. “Of course, you don’t have to. You’re an adult and you can do what you want, but I just-” he bites his lip. “I really miss you.”

He decides to end the message there, sparing himself from any further embarrassment, before climbing the steps up to his apartment.
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It’s about an hour later that there’s a knock on the door. Seunghyun opens it to reveal a tired, scruffy looking Jiyong at his front door. He’s a little shocked and rubs his eyes once or twice for good measure, causing Jiyong to burst into laughter.

“It’s really me,” he says, still laughing. And then, without warning he launches himself into Seunghyun’s arms and holds on tightly. It’s what Seunghyun would normally classify as an uncomfortable hug, but it’s been so long since he’s seen Jiyong that the overly forceful pressure around his waist is more comforting than anything—letting him know that Jiyong is actually there, and Jiyong came back, and Jiyong is the one who’s not going to let him go ever again.