Jinhwan calls him in the early afternoon to check in, Hanbin doesn’t mention his late night visit to Jiwon’s the previous night because he still hasn’t decided if it was a mistake or not. He assures Jinhwan he’s fine and that he doesn’t need to come over to, and Jinhwan barely seems convinced.

“Have you thought about making a report?”

Hanbin hadn’t. In fact, it hadn’t even crossed his mind in the aftermath, to busy thinking about other things to worry about the cops.

“No… I don’t think I’m going to…”

“Are you sure? They might be able to catch the guy who did it.”

Hanbin sighs,

“Maybe, but if I made a report they’d probably ask why a drug dealer was breaking into Jiwon’s apartment. I don’t…I don’t want to get him into anymore trouble then he’s already in.”

The bruising on his face starts to go down after a couple of days, the blues and purples fading to a sickly yellow-green. It’s not that bad, when he examines his face in a mirror, not terribly noticeable if you don’t know what you’re looking for. It still hurts a little when he smiles and his ribs ache but he’s feeling better. When he goes into work though his co workers crowds around with concerned exclamations. He waves them off with a smile, tells them he’s fine (and he is, he really is) but they still shoot him little worried glances throughout the shift and Taehyun makes him go home early. Suenghoon slips a piece of cake into his hand as he leaves with a soft smile and a pat on the shoulder.

When he meets with Hayi about catering for the opening day she gasps, eyes wide and saucer like, fingers immediately going to the darkest bruise still visible on his cheekbone.

“What the hell Hanbin! Are you okay?”

Hanbin smiles tiredly.

“I’m fine. You should see the other guy.”

Her eyes get wider if it’s possible,

“Does he look worse then you do?”

“No, actually he’s completely fine. I didn’t land a single punch.”

She of course asks what happened and Hanbin tells her what he’s been telling everybody, that he got mugged walking to the bus on his way home from work. It’s much easier then saying that he got beat up by his ex-boyfriend’s (who he’s still in love with) drug dealer after he pretty much broke into said ex-boyfriend’s apartment to retrieve a sketchbook which he’d abandoned there after a moment of extreme . That’s hard to explain to himself, let alone to someone else. Hayi seems to accept his answer. As they’re leaving she nudges him,

“I’m glad you’re alright. Anyways, I think the bruises make you look manly.”

Hanbin can’t help but laugh at that, even if it does hurt a little to do it.

He gets coffee with Jinhwan a few days later. It’s freezing outside and Hanbin’s fingers and nose are red by the time he reaches the coffee shop, breath forming clouds in the air. They sit in the corner of the small café and share a pastry.

“Have you seen Jiwon since-since that day?”

Hanbin nods once, stabbing his half of the pastry with his fork.

“Once. I invited him to the opening of my exhibition.”

Hanbin doesn’t mention that he was very drunk when he did. Jinhwan’s eyebrows rise in surprise as he takes a bite.

“Really?”

Hanbin nods again, and by now he’s torn his scone to nothing but crumbs.

“Do you think I shouldn’t have?”

Jinhwan shakes his head,

“No, no. I’m just kind of surprised you did to be honest. I thought… I thought after that whole thing you would be done.”

“I thought I would be too. I was angry with him, and myself a little too. I just thought about giving up now and it seemed… wrong… I guess. I gave him one more chance. I just… don’t want to give up on this. Not yet.”

Hanbin heaves a deep sigh, and rubs at his forehead trying to massage away a headache that’s forming.

“I don’t know. Maybe that’s stupid…”

Jinhwan looks at him and smiles a smile that’s half gentle, half sad.

“I don’t think that makes you stupid, Hanbin, I think that just makes you in love.”

Hanbin replies, feeling something desperate welling up inside him.

“Some days I feel like those might be the same thing.”

The date of his exhibition draws closer and closer and Hanbin manages to make himself so busy he doesn’t have time to think about Jiwon. Doesn’t have time to think about how he doesn’t stop by Hanbin’s work anymore, how he hasn’t seen him since he drunkenly knocked on his door that night. It’s surprisingly easy, during the day at least. There’s work and more and more meetings with Hayi, or time spent at the studio and when there’s nothing else he paints. At night though, it’s harder. When he’s lying alone in bed in his dark bedroom it’s harder not to think about Jiwon lying right above him and sleep seems to evade him. More often then not he gives up and rolls out of bed, switching on the lights and grabbing his sketchbook.

One morning he’s brushing his teeth and really looks at himself. He looks tired, there are heavy dark smudges under his eyes and his face is narrower then he remembers. He wonders how Jiwon’s doing. Wonders if he has trouble sleeping too, wonders if he thinks about Hanbin too much. He hopes he doesn’t (he hopes he does).

It’s a week and a half before the exhibition and Hanbin’s lying on his couch, half asleep. He’s supposed to be working on a speech for the opening but he’s been writing and rewriting the same sentence for the last 45 minutes and so the speech lays abandoned on his kitchen table. There’s a loud rap on his door that startles him out of his daze and he slowly sits up, rubbing at his eyes. Wandering over to the door he opens it, yawning, to reveal Junhoe who pushes past him into the apartment without waiting for a greeting. Hanbin rolls his eyes and shuts the door, turning to Junhoe.

“What are you doing here? It’s like 8:30, shouldn’t you be at home or something?”

Junhoe just gives him a cool stare.

“I’m here to pick you up, we’re going out.”

Hanbin stares back, confused.

“What? I can’t go out, I’m really busy right now.”

Junhoe raises an eyebrow at him.

“Busy doing what? Taking a nap?”

Hanbin gives Junhoe a little glare, and corrects him

“I wasn’t napping! Just…resting my eyes, alright.”

Junhoe smirks,

“Alright, sure. Doesn’t matter. You look like crap Hanbin and I’m going to take you out, get you very drunk, and make you talk about your feelings.”

As he says this he pulls Hanbin’s jacket off the back of the couch where he’d thrown it after he got home from work and shoves it into his hands and then tosses a pair of shoes at him. Hanbin sighs and starts to shrug on his coat. Junhoe’s nothing if not determined, and to be honest a night out sounds nice. Plus, he really ing hates writing speeches. By the times he’s laced up his shoes Junhoe’s located his keys and presses them into his hand before pretty much shoving him out the door.

They don’t go too Woodstock, instead they go to a club Junhoe likes in Hongdae. It’s different, busier and brighter, the music pounds so loud it’s hard to hear what Junhoe’s saying even though they’re sitting right next to each other, hard to hear himself think. It’s exactly what he needs. Junhoe does good on his promise and soon Hanbin is plastered. At first it’s lighthearted and funny and Hanbin laughs and laughs and doesn’t think about Jiwon, or the exhibition next week, or all the work he still needs to do. After one shot of tequila past too many Hanbin pulls Junhoe up out of his seat and drags him onto the dance floor and they dance till they’re sweaty and their feet hurt and the music echoes heavy in their chests. Hanbin closes his eyes and the lights of the club flash bright against the backs of his eyelids and for the first time in a long time he thinks of nothing, just moves with sound of the DJ. A few people slide up to him, let their hands fall against his waist and start to move with him but he gently brushes them all off with an apologetic smile. If there’s one thing that he’s realized it’s that you can’t away the loneliness, he’s learned not even to try.

Later, as they walk back to the subway together the mood changes though, not sad necessarily, just quiet and contemplative. Hanbin let’s his head dangle loosely back on his neck and looks at the sky. It’s a clear night and he can see the stars despite the light pollution of Seoul.

“What is love, to you?”

Hanbin asks. Junhoe gives him a raised eyebrow.

“Wow, getting deep are we?”

Hanbin just shoves him lightly with his shoulder and tells him to answer the question. Junhoe is silent for a long time.

“Love is just finding your best friend, I think. Love is finding home.”

“Is that what Soo-hyun is too you?”

Hanbin looks over at Junhoe when he replies, he’s still staring up unaware Hanbin’s watching him and he’s smiling more gently then Hanbin’s ever seen on him before.

“Yeah, yeah I think so.”

After a few minutes Junhoe nudges him.

“Come on, you have to answer too.”

Hanbin looks over, confused.

“Answer what?”

“Your own question, idiot. What is love to you?”

Hanbin thinks about that. Love is a lot of things, to him. Love is sunny days by the river, love is double shot lattes with caramel drizzle, love is dark messy hair and notebooks full of scribbled lyrics. It’s two shades of paint mixing into one, it’s the taste of blood on his tongue, it’s a framed picture sitting on his bedside table that he doesn’t bring with him.

“I think love is just trust, at the end of day. Love is knowing that somebody can hurt you and not caring.”

It’s a lie, though, and Hanbin damns himself when he opens his mouth. Because love isn’t trust, at least not to him. He knows what love is. It’s Jiwon.

It’s the opening day of his exhibition and Hanbin’s never been more nervous in his life. There’s so much riding on today and Hanbin alternates between frenetic energy and a sick feeling in his stomach. Jinhwan forced him to borrow a pair of dress pants and a jacket for the event saying,

“Hanbin I swear to god if you wear jeans to your own goddamn exhibition I will never forgive you.”

He tucks a white button down shirt into the uncomfortable slacks and stares at himself in the mirror. The bruises are gone thankfully, leaving behind nothing but heavy bags under his eyes. He looks different, somehow, in a way he isn’t able to pinpoint and he feels strange in the business like attire (he still wears his pair of beat up old converse though, a little rebellion that makes him feel more like himself). Shaking the feeling off he throws a few last minute things into his backpack and sets off for the studio. It’s early, and the subway is filled with bleary eyed commuters on their way to work. He’s not tired though, instead he can almost feel himself humming with nervous energy. He’s on the cusp of something, something big and important and life changing, teetering on the edge of a knife and he can feel it. Everything looks a little different, sharper and brighter and clearer and he takes a deep breathe of frigid air as he walks down the street to the studio. When he gets there the lights are on and Hayi’s already bustling around the studio. She’s dressed casually in jeans and an oversized sweater but a dry cleaning bag hangs on the handle of the door to the backroom. She smiles at him when he walks through the door, pushing a lock of hair out of her face.

“So, you feel ready?”

Hanbin takes a deep breath and shakes his head,

“No, not at all.”

She laughs, eyes crinkled shut.

“Good, I’d be worried if you did.”

The hours pass in a blur. There’s catering to be taken care of, setting up a table for the drinks and appetizers. Then last minute light adjustments, making sure every painting is hung straight and a million other tiny things. Before he knows it it’s less then an hour till the exhibition starts. He feels his guts knot and tense. At one point Hayi disappears into the back to change and Hanbin drops onto the floor by the window, holding his hands so tight the knuckles go white and resting his head against his arms and tries to keep his breathing even. The click of a door makes him look up. Hayi’s standing, framed by the open door in a short but classy black dress and an elegant pair of heels, hair flowing free down her back. Hanbin smiles at her,

“You look beautiful.”

She takes one look at him, pale and nervous, walks over to him and drops to the floor beside him, ignoring the dust attaching itself to her dress.

“Still nervous?”

Hanbin nods silently.

“Hanbin, do you love what you do? Do you love what you created here?”

Hanbin looks at her, a little shocked she even has to ask that question.

“I do. Of course I do. More then anything else.”

“I can see that. And so will everybody else. You look at this exhibition and what you see is love. That matters more then anything else, and it’ll make them love you. So don’t worry, I promise.”

She reaches over and carefully pulls his frozen hands apart, laces her fingers with his. Hanbin lets her, feels her head fall gently against his shoulder. They sit on the floor like that for a long time, holding hands and staring at what they created. Eventually Hanbin speaks, and his breath makes strands of her hair flutter.

“Hayi?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He can feel her smile against his shoulder.