No matter what happens

          Yoseob doesn’t know how to explain it—not really.

          He’s sure that when it gets down to it, there’s probably already some chapter, some passage, some book written about this in bright, pretty prose that makes birds sing and like that. He’s sure that there’s some explanation somewhere in the world for this, but as for right now here in Madrid, Yoseob doesn’t know how to explain it and in all honesty it’s not like he really needs or wants to.

          He doesn’t really know why, whenever he comes back from training and touring around the city with his group—he doesn’t know why the moment he sees Doojoon across the lobby, sitting on one of the high-backed chairs, most likely waiting for his laptop to warm up—Yoseob doesn’t know why his legs suddenly cart him forward into a sprint, doesn’t know why he launches himself into Doojoon’s arms as soon as he sees the older man stand up.

I’ll promise you

          It’s funny though, Yoseob thinks, as Doojoon grins and kisses him, spinning him around a little before letting him go.

          Yoseob thinks it’s funny—curious—that no matter how hard he runs, no matter how hard he jumps or throws himself into the other man’s arms—

          Doojoon always catches him—easily, tightly, and safely.

That I’ll never let you go

          The first time it happens, they’re in Madrid.

          The first time it happens—it happens after a day of Yoseob having lectures all around the city the entire afternoon and Doojoon working on conference calls back to the home base in Korea, making sure everything is functioning properly while his father works on a new business deal in Morocco. Maybe it happens because it’s one of the days when they didn’t get to see each other except for a kiss in the morning before Yoseob leaves and dinner together after Yoseob returns.

          Either way, it happens.

          It happens at night, while Yoseob is still drifting off to sleep, on his side and facing away from Doojoon. It might not have even been the actual first time, but it’s the first time Yoseob knows about because tonight Doojoon is already fast asleep when Yoseob finally finishes organizing his notes and climbs beneath the sheets. The younger man lies there, eyes closed in the darkness, for barely a few minutes before he snaps them open again, staring at the wall because he suddenly remembers that he needs to put one of his papers into a separate folder.

          He swings his legs out, toes touching the floor—

          “Don’t leave.”

          Yoseob blinks, freezes. The words are whispered, crisp and clear and demanding—frustrated and maybe even a little bit desperate. Which, he personally thinks, is going a little overboard for the fact that Yoseob just wants to move a paper into a new folder. He turns around, about to tell Doojoon that Yoseob’s going to be right back so the ahjusshi just has to keep his from knotting until then because it’ll only take a few sec—

And you, during those hard times and ‘til the end

          Doojoon’s eyes are closed.

          He’s asleep—dreaming.

          He’s fast asleep and deep in a dream—a bad dream, clearly—with his eyebrows creasing together, and his arms folded tight around his body. Yoseob watches him for another moment because maybe it’s about something else—maybe Yoseob’s mind is just wired to think that way but it doesn’t mean Doojoon’s world revolves around the younger man so maybe Doojoon is sleep-talking about something else.

          The younger man turns his body, sitting with his legs to the side, and touches Doojoon’s hair with his fingertips, dragging his palm down the side of the other man’s face gently—softly—careful not to wake him up. The expression on Doojoon’s face contorts more with that, his jaw tightening and eyebrows furrowing even harder. “Don’t,” Doojoon mutters, shifting his body and turning his face into the pillow slightly, “just—stay—please, stay.”

          Yoseob runs his fingers through Doojoon’s hair again, fingers pausing for a moment when they hover over the older man’s closed eyes, the older man’s creased brow. He breathes in deeply, and then lets it out in a quiet sigh. “I’m not going anywhere, ahjusshi,” he whispers, and wonders if dream-Doojoon can hear him because if Doojoon is dreaming of a memory, then this is what Yoseob wants his dream-self to be saying.

          Because it’s what real-Yoseob should have said one year ago at Incheon International Airport. 

You held both of my hands and stayed with me

          It happens a few more times—not many, though, and that’s something Yoseob is thankful for.

It doesn’t take much to make them go away, to smooth out Doojoon’s expression, to quiet him if it’s really bad. It doesn’t take much—just takes Yoseob curling closer against Doojoon’s body, just takes Yoseob kissing the other man in his sleep, just takes Yoseob’s voice and touch to overwrite the stupid, stupid, stupid Yang Yoseob in the dream that’s walking away when he should have stayed in Korea.

And the next morning—when Doojoon seems a little too quiet, when Doojoon doesn’t seem to want to eat breakfast, when Doojoon sits at the table and stares into his cup of coffee with tired eyes that are thinking too deeply—Yoseob will take the cup away, will hold it as far as he can while Doojoon jumps up in surprise and tries to get it back. Yoseob will walk backwards around the entire suite, laughing, because Doojoon isn’t going to chase hard in fear that he might make the younger man spill the coffee. He’ll keep at this until he lets Doojoon catch him around the waist, until the coffee’s left forgotten and cold on the table because Doojoon is whirling Yoseob around in his arms, laughing while the younger man complains about impending dizziness.

Yoseob just wants Doojoon to smile.

I might be a shabby person

          He knows he never should’ve left.

          It doesn’t take Junhyung, doesn’t take Hyunseung, doesn’t take Dongwoon, doesn’t take anyone telling him that when they get back to Korea for Yoseob’s graduation. It doesn’t take them talking about how miserable Doojoon was, how hard it was to be around him, it doesn’t take any of that for Yoseob to realize that he never should’ve left. Because really, there wasn’t much to realize or figure out at all anyway. Yoseob never had to realize that he never should’ve left—he never had to figure it out.

          He just knew.

          He knew the moment he kissed Doojoon goodbye at the airport.

          He knew, as he sat on the plane and watched the stewardess put on an oxygen mask—Yoseob knew that maybe in different circumstances, he’d be taking off into the sky towards his dream. With different circumstances, this would’ve been the right choice.

          But because of one rainy taxi ride, this no longer was.

          Yoseob wasn’t taking off towards his dream.

          He was leaving it behind.

Who has never done anything for you

          They spend the night after Yoseob’s graduation (which they had to speed through toll in order to make because of the detour Doojoon spun them on) at Yoseob’s parents’ house. And because Yoseob left his suit jacket behind on a chair that his mother needed, the graduation dinner morphed into a dinner celebrating Yoseob being hired into the company after his mother found what Doojoon had given him earlier during the detour that nearly made them late for the ceremony.

          While Yoseob supposes that he doesn’t mind his parents finding out that way, he thinks that Doojoon’s grin is ridiculously large as he toasts with Yoseob’s father.

          But—

          Then again, as he watches his mother urging Doojoon to eat more, piling spoonfuls of rice onto the older man’s plate despite Doojoon laughing in an attempt to convince her that he’s already eaten plenty—as Yoseob watches his father nudge Doojoon and ask the older man about how things are going at the company, about Doojoon’s own parents’ health, if maybe Doojoon wants to take Yoseob out for some fresh air tomorrow since the blossoms out in the field are pretty right about now—

          Yoseob is pretty sure that maybe his own grin is just as huge.

I’m sure our love will change a little bit at a time

          Yoseob elbows Doojoon to the side. “You must be going senile, ahjusshi,” he says as threateningly as he can while Doojoon just crawls back closer to Yoseob and buries his laughter in the skin of the younger man’s stomach, “if you think I’m going to have with you twice while my parents are sleeping two rooms down.” He eyes the locked door, before gazing around the entire room—his old bedroom, always open and ready whenever he comes back home to visit. “It’s already bad enough we did it once.”

          Doojoon snorts, pulling away a little and lying on his back, arms pillowing his head as he looks up at the ceiling. “We weren’t loud,” he offers, shrugging, and reaching out to tug Yoseob closer.

          “You’re sweaty,” the younger man says, wrinkling his nose and rolling teasingly out of Doojoon’s reach. “Shower before you hug me.”

          “Who said I wanted to hug you?” Doojoon snorts again, not letting go of Yoseob’s wrist and, this time, he yanks hard enough so that Yoseob falls on top of the other man’s body. Doojoon’s arms trap their bodies together as he rolls them onto their sides and Yoseob finds his face suffocated against Doojoon’s bare chest.

          “If my mom comes in and finds me dead like this,” Yoseob says, his voice incoherently muffled, “because you suffocated me, she’s going to broomstick your .”

          Doojoon laughs.

But please don’t be sad

          They start drifting off to sleep like that, with Doojoon’s arms a little looser around Yoseob’s body, and Yoseob’s cheek pressed so close against Doojoon’s chest that he thinks he’s hearing the older man’s heartbeat.

          “You know,” Doojoon whispers playfully, “I feel like I just did something completely ty—hiring you.”

          Yoseob glances up at him through the darkness, glances at the crinkling eyes glowing liquid and dark and smiling back down at him. The younger man raises his eyebrows. “What?”

          Doojoon laughs under his breath. “I feel like I just cut off an angel’s wings or something.”

          It’s Yoseob’s turn to snort. “I’m hardly an angel, ahjusshi—and I still get to translate and travel and stuff.”

          The other man is quiet for a moment. “Just,” Doojoon says slowly, “it’s just—you won’t get as many opportunities the way you would with the other agency.” His hand comes off of Yoseob’s hip and the younger man’s cheek up and down gently with the backs of his fingers. Yoseob closes his eyes at the feeling, closes his eyes, because cutting off one sense strengthens the others and that’s what he wants right now. Right now he just wants to feel Doojoon brushing his fingers up and down Yoseob’s face. He just wants to listen to Doojoon’s steady breathing, steady heartbeat. He just wants to smell Doojoon’s skin, and feel Doojoon’s body surrounding his. 

          “Y’know, hyung,” Yoseob says suddenly, glancing up again to make sure Doojoon is still awake, “I’m no angel, but if I was, it’d be kind of pointless then, right?”

          Doojoon’s eyebrows furrow confusedly in the lightlessness.

          Yoseob smiles, “It’s pointless if the guardian angel isn’t next to the person he’s supposed to protect, right?”

Hopefully, I will be someone

          This time, when Yoseob leaves Korea, he doesn’t have to worry about whether he’s taking off towards his dream or leaving his dream behind.

          This time, as Yoseob watches the stewardess put on an oxygen mask as the plane starts moving forward on the runway—this time Yoseob doesn’t have to worry about making the right choice or not in any circumstances because this time, his dream is right next to him.

Who you can trust like a close friend

          They meet up in Hong Kong with Doojoon’s parents (because his sister is in New York). It’s the first time Yoseob’s seen Doojoon’s mother and father just like how graduation night was the first time Doojoon’s seen Yoseob’s mother and father. Doojoon introduces Yoseob over dinner beneath the night sky, looking out at Hong Kong’s lights reflected on the surface of the water that the restaurant floats on.

          Doojoon’s mother does for Yoseob a lot of things that Yoseob’s mother did for Doojoon. She urges him to eat more even though she can’t exactly pile more food onto his plate—she asks him about his parents, if they’re doing well, about how they must be so proud that their son graduated early and was snatched up into a career right away. She smiles at Yoseob and tells him in a playful whisper that he should get Doojoon to take him through the street markets later on tonight if they get hungry again at the hotel.

          Doojoon’s father is what Yoseob expects after everything he’s heard about him from Junhyung and the others—he’s what Yoseob expects, and at the same time, maybe even a little bit more. It’s a little weird to shake hands with Doojoon’s father and laugh with him over jokes and dinner and anecdotes that make Doojoon stamp his chopsticks on his plate in protest because he’s embarrassed—it’s a little weird to think that someone this easy to get along with is Yoseob’s new boss.

          Doojoon’s parents leave first, his mother hugging Yoseob and his father patting his head before they set off into the interior of the restaurant since all of the cars only pull up at the entrance. They leave first, but Doojoon and Yoseob stay long past after the waiters have taken away all of the dishes from the table. They stay outside with the warm, night breeze whipping their hair and clothes lightly as they look out towards the city with Yoseob against the railing and Doojoon right behind him, arms circling tight around the younger man’s waist.

          “Your mom’s pretty,” Yoseob says conversationally as Doojoon rests his chin on the translator’s shoulder.

          “I know,” Doojoon responds and Yoseob can hear the grin. “It’s why I’m so hot.”

          Yoseob snorts. “No—it’s why Doori-noona’s so pretty. Obviously, something went wrong in the gene pool when it came to you.”

          “Yah,” Doojoon says, and bumps his head against the side of Yoseob’s neck, “yah.”

          Yoseob laughs.

And someone you can lean onto

          Doojoon turns Yoseob around, pinning the younger man back against the railing, one arm fitting right against the arch of Yoseob’s back and the other hand cupping Yoseob’s neck gently, angling in for a kiss—a kiss that’s warm and slow with not much intent or purpose behind it, just a kiss because it seems to fit with the moment, with the warm, night breeze whipping their hair and clothes lightly as they look out towards the city.

          When they draw apart, Yoseob curls his arms around Doojoon’s neck so their bodies stay pressed together. His eyes are gazing into Doojoon’s, but at the same time, because Yoseob is the one facing the entrance back to the restaurant, he has to be the one keeping one eye out in case the waiters come back or a large enough group of people pass by the double doors. Their friends know, their families know, but that doesn’t mean that the entire world—especially the entire world when they’re in Asian countries—can know.

          It’s easier when they’re in Europe or the States, but not always there either.

          “What,” Yoseob starts quietly, as Doojoon begins to rock them from side to side to the rhythm of the music filtering out from the restaurant, “would you do if your parents were like Junhyung-hyung’s?”

          Doojoon looks at Yoseob for a moment, and with just that, Yoseob already knows what Doojoon’s going to say—doesn’t know the exact words, doesn’t know the exact sentence or way that the older man will say it, but whenever he looks into Doojoon’s eyes, the meaning is always understood. Sometimes, Yoseob even finds it easier—clearer—to just meet Doojoon’s gaze because there are a lot of things that are better expressed when no words are used at all.

          “I don’t know,” Doojoon murmurs slowly, his hands folding together at the base of Yoseob’s back. “What would you do?”

          Yoseob places his fingertips lightly against Doojoon’s cheek. “I don’t know,” he says softly, “but I’d hold on to you.” He smiles then a little, letting his voice lose just a bit of its seriousness. “I’d hold on to you so tight you wouldn’t be able to breathe.”

          Doojoon smiles back and presses their bodies even closer together, every bit of space between them gone. He tightens his arms around Yoseob too—tighter than ever before—until it’s Yoseob who finds that he can barely find any room for his lungs to function. “Like this?” he asks playfully.

          Yoseob throws his own arms around Doojoon’s neck again, pulling himself in just as closely and tightly and rests his cheek against the crook of Doojoon’s shoulder. “Just like that,” he smiles.

I promise you that I’ll be right here, baby

          It feels that whenever they come back to Korea, it’s because something big has happened and lately, it’s never a good something. This time around, when they come back to Korea, Yoseob is part of the company and that means that when Doojoon is taking conference calls and being bombarded with messages and emails from business associates here and there demanding Doojoon’s attention, Yoseob is the one who has to put the calls on hold—the one who has to take notes translating messages into Korea, the one who has to speak as a medium through the phone while Doojoon tells him what needs to be said.

          For the first time, Yoseob is really working—doing what he’s spent an entire year and a half training for—and while it’s not stressing him out, not giving him that initial shock or overwhelming that he thought he would have to brace himself for. This onslaught of calls and messages the moment they arrive at the airport and their cell phones are within working range—none of this is what bothers Yoseob. None of this seems to faze Doojoon either.

          Right now, standing here in Junhyung’s office, right now what really bothers Yoseob is the fact that his best friend is literally—honest to God—ing stupid. 

          What bothers Yoseob, what’s been stressing Yoseob out, is the fact that ever since Dongwoon and Hyuna called them in Hong Kong and told them that Hyunseung has vanished off the face of the planet, Doojoon has been calling Hyunseung—texting Hyunseung—calling his father—texting his father—unable to sleep until he at least knows what’s going on or where Hyunseung is, and while Yoseob’s also been calling and texting Hyunseung, it hasn’t gotten to the point where he’s losing much needed sleep and energy over it (and if it ever did get down to that, he’s afraid to think about what’ll happen to the translations).

          Doojoon is worried sick because it’s Hyunseung—it’s someone he’s worked with for the past few years, his friend, one of his best friends, someone who he’s even had with—something that, Yoseob knows, makes Doojoon feel that it’s partially his own fault this escalated into something so terrible. Doojoon is worried sick because it’s Junhyung—someone who he met on the first day of work, someone who’s been with him since square one, his best friend, his closest friend, his brother, and even though Yoseob knows that Doojoon feels sorry to both Yoseob and Hyunseung for that one night, he feels the sorriest to Junhyung.

          “What do you want me to say?” Junhyung asks wearily, half-sitting on the edge of his desk as Yoseob slams the door shut behind him and stands, feet apart and arms folded, looking at the older man.

          Yoseob snorts bitterly. “I’m not asking you to say anything,” he says, “not to me. Me, Doojoonie-hyung, Dongwoonie, Hyuna—we’re not the ones you need to say something to and you know it, so why are you still ing here?”

          “Fine,” Junhyung says. “Fine—then what do you want me to do? You think I like feeling like this? You think I like all of you blaming me because I made him—”

          “You didn’t make him leave,” Yoseob says, his voice rising. “Nothing you could do could ever make him leave so stop making it sound like Hyunseung-hyung left like a ing who didn’t want to forgive your mistakes, because he forgives them all the time—he never even acts like they’re mistakes. It’s nothing you did that made him leave, hyung.” He looks into Junhyung’s eyes. “It’s what you didn’t do.”

          Junhyung holds Yoseob’s gaze for another moment, before he breaks it—turning away and going back to sit behind his desk. “I’ll figure something out,” he says quietly, sitting down and not looking at Yoseob.

But for today

          That’s not good enough for Yoseob—it might’ve been good enough for Hyunseung, but words like that aren’t good enough for Yoseob.

          Not anymore—not with what this is doing to Doojoon.

          He steps forward, crossing the room with wide strides and slamming his palms down on Junhyung’s desk. The older man looks up, his mouth pressed into a tight line. “No,” Yoseob says, his voice dangerously quiet. “No, you’re not going to figure something out because Hyunseung-hyung’s given you all the time in the world to figure things out. But I’m here now, so that time’s over. It’s done—it’s ing expired—and you’re not going to figure anything out anymore. You’re going to ing do something because Doojoonie-hyung is killing himself over this.”

          Junhyung stands up, then, his face coated with disbelief. “You’re ing worried about Doojoon when Hyunseung and I—”

          “That’s your own ing fault,” Yoseob shouts because he can’t take this anymore. “You’re my hyung and he’s my hyung, but at the end of the day, you’re defending him, right? At the end of the day, like right ing now, even if he’s left you, you’re still defending him, right? And no matter how much we tell Dongwoonie not to go to Kikwang-shii too often, he’s not going to listen to us, right?”

          Junhyung swallows.

          “It’s not any different,” Yoseob says, his voice slightly quieter. “Ahjusshi’s worried himself sick plenty enough for both of you—enough to last you and Hyunseung-hyung a lifetime. And I’ve seen enough of it for a lifetime. So ing get yourself together, hyung. If you want to call it quits for Hyunseung-hyung, then fine, I can’t do anything about it.”

          Junhyung falls back into his seat, silent, and staring into his lap. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” he says quietly. “He’s already gone.”

          Yoseob thinks that this is frighteningly similar, as he walks around the desk and grabs hold of the armrests of Junhyung’s chair, spinning the older man around so they face each other. He places his hands on Junhyung’s face and forces their eyes to meet. “I don’t think,” Yoseob says, letting the corners of his mouth curve upward ever so slightly, “that he left because he doesn’t think you’re worth it.” He lets go of Junhyung’s face and tosses his arms around the older man’s shoulders. “I think he left because he doesn’t think he is.”

          Yoseob feels Junhyung’s arms wrap around the younger man’s waist, and they stay like that for a few moments—the only sounds coming from Hyuna and Dongwoon talking outside with the occasional ring of telephones and the soft humming of the computers and printers. It’s Junhyung who pulls away first, and up close, Yoseob sees the dark rings beneath the older man’s eyes. “Think I can get him back?” Junhyung asks hoarsely.

          The younger man smiles again. “From personal experience,” he says in a lighter voice that gets Junhyung to smile too, “he might not fly into your arms in a field of daisies—but he’s going to be ing glad to see you.”

I am singing this song just for you

          Truthfully, there’s another reason why Yoseob hates looking at Junhyung while all of this is going on—another reason why Yoseob can’t stand it when Dongwoon and Hyuna tell him about Junhyung showing up at the office drunk again, when Doojoon has to make more calls to cover it up when the press gets wind of Junhyung too late at night in bars and on the streets.

          It makes him think about Doojoon going through the same thing while Yoseob was gone.

I no longerfear when your breath holds me

          Yoseob knows that he’s done so much wrong for Doojoon—he knows that he’s made Doojoon go through so much that could’ve been prevented if Yoseob had just realized, had just accepted, that dreams don’t always stay the same. He doesn’t want to think about how, despite how angry he is at Junhyung, doesn’t want to think about how he and Junhyung are actually scarily similar. He doesn’t want to think about how, just like Junhyung, it took Yoseob leaving thousands of miles away to make him realize that if you’ve found him—him—you can’t let him go.

          Because you’ll find that whatever you hold so important doesn’t seem so important anymore if he’s not there beside you.

No one in the world can replace you

          “So that’s that, huh?” Yoseob sighs, checking his cell phone and reading a text from Junhyung telling the younger man that he’s gotten onto the plane and is about to shut his phone off. They’re on their way to meet Dongwoon and Kikwang for dinner. He glances at Doojoon, as the older man pulls up in front of the last red light before the toll entrance. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

          Doojoon shrugs. “Knowing them, maybe a month?”

          Yoseob grins. “Yeah—sounds pretty accurate.”

You’re the only one

          Yoseob blinks, thinking maybe he’s just imagining things or he’s seeing wrongly since it’s gotten so dark and it’s been a while since they’ve been in Korea. “Hyung,” he says slowly, “I don’t think this is the right exit. Isn’t the restaurant a few more—”

          But after Doojoon turns down a few roads and speeds up a little bit when the signs and buildings and cars start to decrease, Yoseob suddenly realizes where they’re going. He bites back a smile and waits for a few moments, glancing at Doojoon’s face through the darkness inside the car.

          It gets a little harder to keep that smile in when he sees that Doojoon already has a grin on his own lips.

And I’ll be there for you, baby

          It’s the same as last time—the same as all the times they’ve been here, and Yoseob feels like every time they come back to Korea, they end up here at least once. In a way, it’s where everything started, it’s where everything ended, and then where everything started once again.

          He wonders, as he and Doojoon walk hand-in-hand through the tall grass, reaching the middle of the field—he wonders what it’ll be this time.

You and I together—it just feels so right

          Doojoon drops down to one knee.

I will never leave you

          He takes a small, black box out of his pocket, and looks up at Yoseob.

And no matter what anyone says

          Before Doojoon can open it, before Doojoon can say anything (which Yoseob is sure he was about to considering how he opened his mouth and took a breath), Yoseob slaps the side of Doojoon’s head with his palm—hard enough to send Doojoon staggering sideways off of his one-knee-balance and almost dropping the box into the grass.

          The older man looks flabbergasted. He stands up. “What?” he asks, bewildered. “What now? Can’t you at least let me propose in peace?”

I’ll be there to protect you

          No matter how hard he runs, no matter how hard Yoseob jumps or throws himself, Doojoon never fails to catch him.

          This time is no different.

          Yoseob hurls himself at the other man, arms around Doojoon’s neck, and Doojoon catches him with both arms, one hand still holding onto the box. “You’re such a stupid ahjusshi,” he says into Doojoon’s shoulder.

          Doojoon laughs then, relief and understanding leaking in as he holds Yoseob tighter. “How come?”

          “You promised to never make me cry again,” Yoseob says and digs his face against the cloth of Doojoon’s sweater. He thinks that maybe the older man should invest in some cotton sweatshirts instead of knit sweaters because wool makes Yoseob’s eyes itch.

          “So you admit that the last time you were crying, right?” Doojoon says playfully. “That it wasn’t sweat?”

          “I hate you,” Yoseob mumbles, and just holds on tighter and buries his face deeper.

You and I together—don’t ever let go of my hands

          He doesn’t know how long they stay like that—he never does. Yoseob never has a sense of time when he’s wrapped in Doojoon’s arm, pressed against Doojoon’s body. He never knows how much time passes, and most of the time, he doesn’t really mind. Because in all honesty, if Doojoon is holding him tight and close, it really doesn’t matter how long Doojoon is holding him tight and close.

          Since it’ll never be long enough.

I’ll never say goodbye to you

          “Yah,” Doojoon says suddenly, breaking the silence, “Yang Yoseob.”

          “What?” he breathes into Doojoon’s shoulder.

          Doojoon shifts Yoseob around in his arms a bit, so that they can see each other’s faces. He smiles playfully. “Can’t you let go for just a sec? So I can put the ring on you?”

          Yoseob smacks Doojoon’s head again.

Even when this world ends