Archive of Our Own

fate. 

     it’s stupid, right? the concept of the universe having a plan for you. the concept of ‘everything happens for a reason.`

     but he takes the grape jolly rancher from the basket, and yes, there’s a blue raspberry right there, but maybe. just maybe. 

     someone needed that one more than he did. 

     bubble gum. the kind in squares was always the best, distant memories of playgrounds when everyone wanted to be your friend. dad would cook, clean, get the groceries, carry you on his shoulders. he bought you candy with a wink and a whisper of don’t tell your mother. 

     yeah. him and mom fought but you could always hide in your room and later he would come sweep you up. make it better. he could always make it better back then. 

     but one day he isn’t your hero anymore. his eyes are lifeless as they stare down at the bills piling up and you can hear him cry when he thinks you’re asleep. he’s just like you. and early mornings you kneel next to your bed with child-like innocence and ask god for a new family. 

     pray for a world where no one gets heartbroken by the ones they love. A world where no one’s moving on without you and no one can change for the worst. 

     pinky swear, cross your heart hope to die, those were the law back then. the sacred seal, the marking of “promise me” that no one would ever admit to breaking. everyone promised, up and down the walls, swore they’d never be like the older kids who argue and break apart. swore they’d never leave. 

     but one day wonwoo looked up from reading something hilarious and jeonghan wasn’t there. because jeonghan had his friends, and wonwoo had his, and they didn’t get along anymore. jeonghan grew up, and wonwoo wished with all his might that he didn’t. 

     It’s spring. School is finally over, and Wonwoo hasn’t talked to Jeonghan in two years. It rains, in Seoul, dark, cool, green, and when his feet slap against the concrete the sound echoes through the park. His camera is heavy and relentless around his neck. He should  get a lighter model. 

     If you asked any number of people I’m sure most would say outdoor weddings are a terror, and Wonwoo would agree. Bugs. Grass stains. Unpredictable weather. Those were part of the package, wrapped with allergies and a number of other things. No one in their right mind would ever want an outdoor wedding. 

     Except for most young couples apparently. 

     It wasn’t Wonwoo’s first rodeo and it wouldn’t be his last, sadly. There will always be weddings, and therefor there will always be wedding photographers, and Wonwoo is one of them. 

     The sun had yet to reveal itself, the sky dark grey, air thick with humidity. If it didn’t rain during the ceremony, there was no doubt it would after. It goes smoothly, he has to open the aperture on his camera wider than usual but he’s able to get good photos. When everyone moves to the hotel is the real problem. 

     One of the best men gets piss drunk. 

     He says his speech in a half slur, everyone else is laughing and playing along but Wonwoo has to stifle a grimace. He shouldn’t judge, he would much rather be drunk right now, but at the same time there’s really nothing better to do. He already got photos of the first dance, a couple shots of the tables and the decorations. 

     He collapses into a chair at one of the empty tables, going through his camera roll and deleting blurry shots. Taking a couple more photos. As far as he‘s concerned, he was ready to go home. The rain hits hard, thunder booming and cracking right outside the windows. Most are shifting in their seats, looking outside with every chance available. Wonwoo’s eyes are dropping and his focus is flying out the window. 

     A movement to his right brings him out of his head and he looks over to see the drunk best man fall into the chair next to him. He peers over Wonwoo’s shoulder, nodding as Wonwoo flips through the photos. 

      “Those are beautiful. Where’d you learn?” 

      “Oh, I picked it up over the years.” Wonwoo’s does his best to ignore how the guy reeks of alcohol and prays the beer doesn’t tip onto his camera. 

     “That’s so cool. I wish I had a talent like that. I’m not good at much though, it’s sad really.” He muses and takes a sip of his drink. His eyes go glassy and he turns to Wonwoo. 

      “I miss when times were easier, you know?” 

     Wonwoo nods, thinking to Jeonghan. 

     “I feel you there.” Wonwoo says, and when the best man offers him a sip of his beer he takes it. Ignoring the twinge of pain somewhere deep in his chest. 

     “Dance with me? Just one, and I promise I’ll make it worth it.” This guy is drunk, and Wonwoo’s there to work but he says ‘fuck it’ and dances with the stranger. One drink turns two and he should be taking more photographs, and he’s being so unprofessional right now but he doesn’t give a damn. He takes the best man's hand, (when was the last time someone held his hand like this?) and moves toward the dance floor.

     The grooms smile at them, and Wonwoo smiles back. 

     “He got so drunk and I had to take photos of that Junhui.” Wonwoo stares at the computer screen in terror, scrolling through photos, trying to find even one single photograph where the best man doesn’t look like he’s about to pass out. Wonwoo sighs, hangover catching up to him, and he takes his glasses off and rubs at his eyes as Junhui peers over his shoulder. 

     “Oh he’s cute. 10/10 would smash.” 

     “That’s not the point,” Wonwoo groans, “this is difficult! I’m a professional! I should be taking professional photos, and delivering quality content that will freeze their special moments in time! They want photos they can show their kids and hang over their mantel! I’m creating a memory that has to last here.”

     “Ew, sounds stressful. Sucks for you man.” 

     “You’re an ass.” 

     “I have a feeling you meant to say ‘your ass is mine.’” 

     “Jun, you’re dating Minghao. He’s sitting right over there. 

     Minghao looks up to his sewing machine. 

     “What?” 

     “Your boyfriend is saying that his ass is mine.” 

     “Okay? What else is new?” 

     “I hate you both.” 

     “Aw, you don’t mean that.” One of Jun’s nasty habits is pinching Wonwoo’s cheeks. Rude, in Wonwoo’s opinion, but Jun just walks away, ignoring Wonwoo’s scowl in favor of bothering Minghao. 

     Wonwoo clicks out of Lightroom, into Photoshop, importing the photos and giving up soon after. He sucked with photoshop, who was he kidding? 

      Finish with the photos, get them sent off, and never think about the wedding again. He leans back in his chair and rubs at his eyes again. 

     “You know what, I should just become a portrait photographer instead.” He says it as if he’d had an epiphany, and Jun and Minghao share a weary look. “Or even better, I could give up on Korea, move to America and become an eagle trainer! So much better.” 

      “Eagle training is a thing, but you’re talking about it like there are eagles everywhere in need of being trained. Plus, you can’t even speak English, and you’d most likely starve in a week.” Minghao, ever the voice of reason and shatterer of hopes and dreams.

     “You’re just jealous you’ll never be a famous eagle trainer like me—“ 

     “What you need Wonwoo is a date,” Jun says, “All this stuff is getting to your head.” 

     Minghao shrugs and goes back to his sewing. What Wonwoo really needed was someone to tell him what he wanted to hear, and Jun and Minghao were not coming through.  

     “No, never, I refuse, you can’t make me.” 

     Jun sighs in defeat, never the one to argue, and grabs black licorice off the shelf throwing it at Wonwoo. “Eat candy and stop killing yourself with work, you’ve gotten cynical and boring.” 

     He wakes, raising his arm over his head and snaps, willing all his problems to go away, as if he had all six infinity stones and could dust all angst and cynicism. Alas, as every morning, it doesn’t work, and he rolls out of bed. Reasonably, he should stop falling asleep at two am but does he listen to common sense? 

     No. 

     No he does not. 

     Jun leans into his room, takes one look at Wonwoo lying on the floor, and reminds him that he should probably eat the breakfast Jun lovingly made for him. Fuck. 

     He grabs his phone off his nightstand once Jun leaves and scrolls through Instagram.

     Jeonghan had posted once since he’d last checked, a sunset with the caption ‘fear kills.’ Wonwoo scoffs, trying to hate it. Hate him. It’s fruitless, and he wills gravity to pull them together again. 

     Two years. Two full years since he last heard Jeonghan’s voice, talked to him. He had a beautiful girlfriend, a ring on her finger, and a house that cost at least three million Won. Wonwoo’s mother asked why they didn’t get along and Wonwoo wanted to scream, tell her exactly why, but instead he left the table, and left Jeonghan and his perfect life along with it. 

     He shakes himself back to the present, memories are torture to him now. He goes and eats his breakfast, Junhui giving him a look he couldn’t quite place as Wonwoo stabs at his eggs, stares at the table blankly.  

     Jun leaves for a date with Minghao and Wonwoo continues to sulk, walking around with a scowl and groaning at the slightest inconvenience. His future was a touchy subject as well as his past, while everyone is out finding love and getting laid he’s working himself into the ground. 

     Crying over nothing, and the world gave him grief and suffering. 

     Would it be different if Jeonghan stuck around? 

    (note: most of us are lonely, and that’s okay.) 

     Later Junhui and Minghao fall into the apartment. They’re laughing and smiling without a care. Wonwoo’s heartstrings pull, and good god his soul aches, with a desire for something more than loneliness. 

     Minghao leaves and Wonwoo cries, cries so hard his body shakes and Junhui holds him. His tears dry up after ten minutes, and Jun contemplates his next words. 

     “You should get out more. Stop focusing on work so much.” 

     “We have to eat you know.” 

     “If push came to shove Minghao would feed us.” 

     “I would rather die than mooch of Minghao.” 

     Jun ignores him. 

     “One day you’ll work yourself into the ground.” 

     The sad thing is that Junhui is usually right, especially when Wonwoo doesn’t like it. 

     Where will he be in ten years? Doing what he’s doing now? Not living the way he wants to? The sinking realization settles in and well, he should listen to Jun for once. But for now, he sits curled up on the couch with mint chocolate chip ice cream and cries over Hwarang. 

     “Why?” He puts the question out to the universe and nothing responds. 

     Typical.

     Seoul. Fast paced, thousand miles a minute, left, right, up, down, move. Keep going. Don’t stop. Don’t slow. Those were the unwritten laws of the land. Most of Wonwoo’s precious time was spent rolling his eyes, making his way through giant crowds of people and biting his tongue. Why did he decide on Seoul of all places? 

     Grocery shopping = Hell. 

     Existing = Hell. 

     Getting distracted = Hell. 

     Getting distracted means he gets lost, and then he ends up with 75,000 won worth of strawberries, questioning why he was alive in the first place.

     Case in point, today. Three types of tea, rice noodles, almonds and two cabbages take up residence in his bag. He can’t remember where he bought any of it, or why he did, but in hindsight Jun really shouldn’t have sent Wonwoo shopping. 

     Their diet consisted of mostly ramen, why wasn’t he in a convenience store? He kept looking around, around street corners and into alleyways, looking for a.) anyone selling anything useful and b.) an exit so he can find his way home. 

      Running into people wasn’t uncommon to say the least, the streets are always packed with people, everyone wanted to get on with the day. Wonwoo looks over his shoulder, trying to locate a bus stop or something of the sort. He checks his watch, two pm already, and Jun expected at least something to make dinner. Turn around, walk in the other direction, he’s not paying attention because, well, why would he? 

     His shoulder hits someone else’s, and he’s stumbling backward. Someone catches him right before he topples onto a child, the mother giving him the stink eye as Wonwoo falls into the strangers arms. He stays like that for a moment, catching his breath before realizing how awkward he was being and stepped back. 

     “Oh! It’s you! How have you been?” 

     Does he know this person? He studies their features, cat like, slanted eyes, black hair, and when he smiles his cheeks puff. None of it is ringing a bell, but he was so familiar and Wonwoo couldn’t place it. One of his old classmates? Jeonghan’s friends? Fuck, this is difficult. 

     “I’m alright!” He forced himself to smile, his skin stretching awkwardly. He ignores it. “How about you?” 

     “I’m doing better! Still not the best, but that’s okay, right? How’s photography going?” 

     A past client of his? He checked his left hand, no ring. There goes that. 

     “It’s going alright?” 

     ‘You’re lost.’ His brain supplies, ‘escape the awkwardness and go home.’ 

     “I’ve gotta get going, could you tell me where I am?”

     “Oh! You’re in Gwangjang.” 

     Wonwoo’s stomach turns. How the hell did he end up in Gwangjang? 

     “Um, do you know where the bus station is?” 

     He shouldn’t be getting drunk. This is a fact. He’s supposed to meet for lunch with one of his old professors to catch up. He’s so close with finessing the wedding photos he needed and he then could send them out and be done with it for the rest of time. 

     “You shouldn’t be getting drunk.” the narrator, the universe, his reasonable self, and minghao all tell him. But he downs his third Long Island Sweet Tea and leaves Minghao at the bar to go dance. The only problem is that he's not the greatest dancer, and he emulates the energy of a white dad at a graduation barbecue. It should stop him, but it doesn’t. 

     “Wonwoo!” It wasn’t Jun or Minghao, but he goes toward the voice anyways. The person looked vaguely familiar. He had to be safe, right? He sits down at the table, the guy slings an arm over his shoulder and shouts to his friends “Jihoon, Seungcheol! This is Wonwoo!” 

     They give him a nod and go back to their discussion, the question at hand being ‘would water breathing dragons be helpful?’

     “Well obviously not, seeing as how flooding can do just as much, if not more damage than fires can.” 

     “If the dragon could control it, it could put out fires and help people not die of thirst. Everyone wins, right?” 

     “But we never agreed that the dragon could control it, it’s all subjective!”

      “Fire breathing dragons can control their fire, right? So why couldn’t water breathing dragons?” 

     “But we’re not talking about fire breathing dragons. How would we know if fire breathing dragons and water breathing dragons are a whole different race of dragon, if not related at all? So it’s stupid to compare since water and fire are completely different elements, they’re almost opposite to each other.” 

    “Let’s say that they could control the water breathing, what then?” 

     “I would say it depends on the moral alignment. Like, what if it could control its power, but it’s a jerk?” 

     “What if it weren’t a jerk?” 

     “Well, it could not be a jerk, but it could also not know how to respond to humans and it could get scared, and cause more destruction.” 

     “Okay, okay, backtrack. If a water breathing dragon could control its powers. Understand and communicate effectively with humans, and had a staring moral alignment, say, lawful good. Would it be helpful then?” 

     “Maybe, but overall there are just too many possibilities to factor in, too many plot holes. If water breathing dragons existed, they’d be more of a hindrance than a help.”

     “Soonyoung, Wonwoo, thoughts?”

       Soonyoung. So that’s his name. Wonwoo lifts his head from Soonyoung’s shoulder and looks to him. It suits. At the same time Soonyoung said “I think this is stupid.” Wonwoo whispered “I think water breathing dragons would be helpful.” 

     The shorter of the two across the table looks at him with a deadpan expression, while the taller just laughs. 

     “You’re kidding me.” 

     “Think about it. Dragons are glorified lizards, so if you can train a lizard, shouldn’t you be able to train a dragon? There’s like, an entire movie franchise on the subject.”

     “I mean if we’re going into technicalities , then yes. But they’re inherently different.” 

     “In what way?” 

     He’s  apparently too drunk to respond and he lays down on the table. “I give up. I shall never win.” 

     “Not with that attitude you won’t, now stop complaining Jihoon, you’ll scare Wonwoo away.” 

     “He could never scare me away, I like him.” Wonwoo turns to Jihoon. “Don’t listen to YoonJun or whatever his name is.” 

     Soonyoung laughed. That beautiful laugh that makes Wonwoo’s chest clench and a knot form in his throat. 

     “It’s Soonyoung.” 

     “I know.” 

     “You do?” 

     It could be just them in the room for all he cares, his vision tunnels and everything else disappears. Getting drunk had never been this fun. 

     “I didn’t at first, but now I do.” 

     “I’m glad.”  

     “Why?” 

    “Wonwoo!” From across the bar he sees Minghao cradling what looked to be an extremely drunk Junhui. Fuck. “come on! We gotta go before Jun passes out and pukes on the floor, and then you’ll have to clean it up.” 

     With that the spell’s broken and Soonyoung gestures for him to go. 

     “I’ll see you around, alright?” Wonwoo nods and makes his way toward Minghao and Jun, dreading the ride home and already missing Soonyoung’s voice.

     “Who was that?” Minghao asked when they exit the bar, Jun hanging off his back. 

     “I have no clue.” 

     If anyone needed the definition of an artist, Wonwoo would give them Minghao’s name and number and tell them to go wild. 

     Wonwoo and Junhui crashed at Minghao’s place, and currently Minghao was brewing detox tea, or ‘hangover helper,’ as he liked to call it. His apartment was a mix of a studio and a library, he had shelves upon shelves of books, theology, philosophy, self help, language, poetry, fashion, interior design, Minghao had everything, including too many talents, and there was always something new he could do flawlessly. 

     Last Christmas he picked up knitting so he could make Jun a sweater, and the year before he took three months of culinary classes and made a six course meal for all of his friends. He was six when he started sewing, and now he’s in the middle of designing an entire fashion line for some high end company, the list went on and on. 

     Wonwoo = More than jealous. 

     He doesn’t know where Jun found Minghao, but he’s currently convinced that he’s some sort of angel from heaven that Jun somehow seduced into coming down to earth and spending the rest of his life there. 

     Minghao comes out of the kitchen and hands him a cup, delicate porcelain with blue flowers, and Wonwoo takes it carefully, worried one strong gust of wind would shatter it. 

     “Don’t worry. China dishes are replaceable, but your liver, however, is not. Drink up.” 

     Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh and he took a sip, warm vanilla and chamomile sliding down his throat. 

     “What’s up?” Minghao also had the ability to sense when something was wrong, like a fucking god. God? Deity? Angel? He’d never know. 

     “Nothing’s wrong.” 

     “That’s a lie and we both know it.” 

     “Why are you so good at this?? 

     “It’s just something I’ve picked up over the years, don’t worry. Now, what is going on in the chronicles of Jeon Wonwoo?” Stupid name aside, Wonwoo sinks further into the couch and sets the cup of tea to the side. 

     “There’s this guy, right? The one who I was with at the bar last night. I don’t remember where I know him or how, but we keep running into each other and every time he stays in the back of my mind for days. Sometimes I just want to forget he exists, and others I want to be with him and have him hold me. It’s stupid, I know—“

      “Not stupid,” Minghao cuts him off, “just unconventional.”

     Before he knows it, Minghao has him sitting on the floor, shuffling Tarot cards and he lays them down neatly, one by one. 

     “Take a deep breath or three, and let your body and mind focus. Then come up with a question, and pick six cards.” 

     Wonwoo nods, and picks his cards. He’d never been one to fully believe in these kinds of things, but it never hurt to try, right?

     “The Hierophant, how you feel about yourself. You need advice, wise council, or spiritual consultation. Tarot speak for you need a therapist of some sort. Someone, or perhaps immediate events, will provide moral and practical guidance. 

     “The High Priestess, what you want most right now. You want a secret to be revealed, within yourself or someone else, but you gotta listen to your instincts. The appearance of The High Priestess tells you the power of the divine feminine is with you. Trust it.

     “The Moon, your fears. Lies and insecurity, you fear your walls being let down. You’re afraid of being mislead or deceived, but your emotions are muddying the water. Try and find clarity of mind. The Moon helps illuminate the way to a better way of life, and it will turn out alright in the end. 

     “The Star, what’s going for you. A wish-come-true of sorts, this is a time of good luck and fortune. What’s happening, it’s happening for a reason. Now is the time to be spontaneous. Take risks. 

     “Ouch, it seems grim, but The World is against you. As always, fear is going to try and hold you back, and that often leads to missed opportunities. Don’t give up, or second guess. Keep going, trust the universe. 

     “Temperance. The likely outcome. A period of peace and harmony, life will flow and you’ll find a better way of coping. Patience is key, but you’ll know what to do when the time is right.” 

     “So basically I’m stupid and I need to stop worrying.” 

     “Yes.” 

     “When did you even pick up tarot reading? And why do they all have cats on them?” 

     “That’s not important.” 

     Just then Jun starts retching from the room over and Minghao’s face falls. 

     “Please. Not on my Gucci throw blankets, they were imported from Italy!” 

     After feeding the couple lies of how he was sick, he finally sat down at his computer again and brought up Lightroom to finish the photos and he almost falls out of his chair. The man from the marketplace, from the bar, staring back at him from the screen.

     the best man. Soonyoung.

     He probably should’ve come to the realization sooner, he’ll admit. But, you have to give him some credit, he’s been drunk off his ass and tired as fuck. 

     Coffee. Jeon Wonwoo was in love, no doubt I’m his mind, and a cold brew with two pumps of hazelnut and almond milk was calling his name. It’s the only thing that made his work day worth it, the saving grace at the beginning and end of the tunnel. 

     The only problem being that coffee is stupidly expensive in Seoul. 

     He counted his change again. And again. He turned his pockets inside out, went through his camera bag and coat. Checked and double checked his wallet. His coffee was seven thousand won and he had six thousand won exactly. Fuck. 

     He tried having the barista, Mingyu, run his card, knowing it probably has nothing on it.( Mingyu sighs, running it anyway. Every week. ) Nothing. Declined. He didn’t have any customer rewards left, no coupon, and he’s royally screwed, to put it lightly. 

     Then he comes in, in all his six am glory, Soonyoung smiling like the universe adored him. And well, maybe it did. Who couldn’t love Soonyoung? His personality’s addictive. 

     “Wonwoo! How much is your coffee?” 

     “It’s seven thousand won.” Mingyu answers for him, and Wonwoo glares. 

     “Why do you need to know?” 

     “I’m paying for it,” Soonyoung says and turns to Mingyu. “I’d like an s’mores frappe, with extra sugar syrup and extra hot fudge.” 

     “You aren’t paying for my coffee Soonyoung-“ 

     “Well, I just did, so…” Mingyu looks between them and hands Soonyoung his card and Wonwoo his coffee. 

     “You didn’t have to do that.” 

     “But I wanted to! And, it looks like that’s your camera bag, so you probably have somewhere to be. I’ll see you around!” 

     Wonwoo gapes. 

     “Soonyoung, you’re the worst.” Soonyoung just laughs him off, 

     “Whatever you say Won-won. Now get to work.” 

    He wanted to collapse. His body screamed at him to lay down and his brain pounded against his skull. He spent the last four hours with an instagram ulzzlang model and he vowed never again. Yeah, he made hella bank, but he and his body collectively wanted him dead. 

     “Oh, by the way, I’ve set you up on a date to get this dude off your mind.” 

     Wonwoo falls off the couch. “You’re aware of how bad of a decision that is, right?” 

     He’s ignored. 

     “He’s a dance instructor at Minghao’s studio, 27 or something like that, and he likes pasta and sleeping! I’m sure you’ll get along great!” 

     “Have you ever even met this guy?” 

     “No? Why would I have?” 

     “That’s not comforting in the slightest. You know how bad I am with people. 

     “You’ll make it. You’re meeting at that sushi place in Hongdae next week.” 

     Wonwoo sits up so fast it takes his eyes a few moments to refocus, glaring at Jun. 

     “You also know I fucking hate seafood. I’m practically allergic.” 

     “We’ll talk to him about it then. I’m sure that’s a great conversation starter.” Oh, how Wonwoo wanted to wipe the smugness off Jun’s face. 

     “It’s a blind date too,” Jun continues, “so he doesn’t know what you look like, what your name is, you’ll have to figure it out yourselves. Oh, and Minghao already talked him into it, so no backing out now!” He fosses Wonwoo a grape jolly rancher from the bag on the table and takes a green apple for himself. Wonwoo sighs. He honestly doesn’t know why he’s friends with Junhui at this point. 

     “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re friends with me because you love me.” 

     “I don’t love jack shit.” 

     “Whatever helps you sleep at night Won baby.” 

     “I’m not a fucking baby,” Wonwoo grumbles, “and since when does Minghao own a dance studio?” 

     Wonwoo has a terrible habit of picking at his hands when he’s bored. I won’t get into the gory details, but just know that Jun always carries bandaids with him, just in case. 

     Today is no exception, except Jun is nowhere to be seen and Wonwoo is on the train, alone, waiting ever so patiently for the software to finish downloading on his phone so he could go back to the very important task of doing nothing. Why did he think it was a good idea to update his phone on the train of all places? On a three hour trip to Busan? All of his books, on his phone, music, on his phone, and he just clicked ‘update now’ without a thought.

     Fuck him, fuck his life, and most of all fuck Wen Junhui, because now he’s bleeding out and he’s going to die because Jun isn’t there with his bandaids. 

     Was he being over dramatic? Very much so, and he had reasons to be! ( no, he really doesn’t, and he should probably find something else to care about. maybe a plant of some sort, or a fish. ) 

     Every so often the train would stop, letting in a rush of humid and sticky air, leaving him with a scowl. No phone, nothing to do, and now he’s hot and sweaty. Wonderful, just great. Peachy keen if he did say so himself. 

     Few people get off and double the amount pack in, he instantly regrets sitting right across from the door. He checks his phone again. Nothing. Switching to android would be better than this. 

     Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone fall, and in the very back of his mind he wants it to be Soonyoung, he expects it to be Soonyoung and he’s surprised when it isn’t. The girl picks herself up, bows politely to the people she disturbed with a quiet “I’m sorry” falling under her breath. Wonwoo goes back to ignoring the world and checks his phone. Nothing. And he’s still bleeding. 

     The train stops, more people pile in, Wonwoo isn’t paying attention, and he jumps when someone taps him on the shoulder. Of course, it’s Soonyoung. Like the universe is yelling at him to stop being a coward. ( it is. everyone is screaming at him. ) 

     “Wonwoo! Do you care if Chan and I sit down? We’re on our way to a dance recital and I need to do his makeup.” 

     Wonwoo takes a deep breath, ( when did he start holding it? ) and nods, only noticing the shorts and fishnets Soonyoung’s wearing AFTER he sits down. Fuck. Soonyoung’s shoulders hang and the bags under his eyes look more intense than ever but it doesn’t seem to bother him. 

     And who is this Chan kid? When did he get here again? Soonyoung starts chatting up a storm to ease the silence, pulling makeup palettes and brushes from a bag covered in glitter. Wonwoo eyes Chan. He looked to be about the same age as him, shoulders wide and full, back straight. He’s cute and maybe Wonwoo’s a bit jealous. 

     “So, where are you headed to Wonwoo?” 

     He snaps out of it, pushing down a scowl when Chan smirks at him. “Um, I’m actually on my way to a dance thing now. Recital, is that the word? I’m pretty sure I’m helping with the kids downstairs, at least that’s what Minghao told me.” 

     “You know Minghao?” Soonyoung turns to him, ignoring Chan’s makeup for the moment, a small victory for Wonwoo. “I had no idea! He’s the owner of the studio, and he helps out with my classes sometimes. I guess it’s a small world after all.” And Soonyoung laughs. You know the drill, his chest clenches, a knot forms in his throat.

     “Yeah! He’s my roommates boyfriend, he practically lives at our apartment though.” 

     “That’s so sweet and cheesy, I love it.” Soonyoung goes to grab a brush from his bag when he notices Wonwoo’s finger. He hadn’t stopped picking at it, and now there’s a puddle of blood the size of a quarter soaked into his sweatpants. 

     “Wonwoo! What happened!” He starts going through his bag more frantically and emerges seconds later with a Ponyo bandaid, opening it and wrapping it around Wonwoo’s finger. 

     “You guys are gross.” Chan wrinkles his nose and Wonwoo would coo if he didn’t have some sort of instant grudge against him. 

     “Chan! So disrespectful to your hyungs, I’m disappointed.” 

      Hyungs. A win for Wonwoo if he ever knew one, even if it’s just as simple as being older. Soonyoung turns to continue Chan’s makeup, much to Wonwoo’s disappointment, and the moment Soonyoung isn’t looking Chan sticks his tongue out at Wonwoo.

      That little punk— 

      “How have you been Wonwoo?”

     “I’ve been good!” He says it a little too quickly but Soonyoung doesn’t seem to notice.

     “How about you? How’s life?” 

     They go on like this for the next few hours, and when Wonwoo’s phone buzzes back to life he shoves it into his pocket. 

     “Wonwoo! Where the hell were you? I tried calling like, ten times, and you didn’t pick up! I was worried you were still in Seoul!” 

     “Why are you getting onto me, Junhui ? You were the one who lost me on the train when you know I get distracted easily! You should be glad I’m here in the first place!” 

      Minghao coughed a little too aggressively to be normal, Wonwoo and Junhui whipping around to see him smiling with gritted teeth. “There are children here,” he reminded, gesturing around the room, “and I don’t think their parents would be particularly happy if they went home and shared their experiences here with you two bickering.” 

      A little kid pulled on Minghao’s pant leg, getting his attention. 

     “Minghao songsaenim, who’s our group leader? Woojin hyungie is getting worried because no ones with us yet and we can’t find Hyunjin.” 

     Minghao’s genuine smile returned instantly, taking the kids hand and ushering him toward Wonwoo. 

     “This is Wonwoo ssi, he’s going to be your group leader today! Wonwoo, this is Jisung. He’s with the eight to twelve year old hip hop group, along with Jeongin, Seungmin, Felix, Changbin, Woojin, Minho, Hyunjin, and Chris. Chris, not Chan. He hates being called Chan.” 

     Jisungs cheeks puffed out a bit when he smiled, something akin to a squirrel, Wonwoo took note, and he dragged Wonwoo all around the theater, telling him the ‘need-to-know’ facts about his group. 

     “Chris and Woojin are the oldest, and Woojin collects American money! Sometimes Chris comes over to play with me while my parents are out, Changbin is kinda scary, he listens to music with cursing in it, and Felix has a huge crush on him, but don’t tell him I told you! Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin are all best friends and they have sleepovers every two weeks. That’s called a fortnight. Not like the game, the game is trash. Seungmin also has a crush on Changbin, but he likes to pretend he doesn’t. He’s whipped though. And Minho’s my best friend! Sometimes he comes over too, and don’t tell anyone, but I like to play with him more than Chris. Plus, Minho has a Nintendo switch we play together. Do you like Super Smash Bros? That’s my favorite game to play with Minho.” 

     How did parents do it? It had only been about three minutes and Wonwoo’s shoulders sagged. 

     “Um, yeah. Super Smash Bros is awesome, who’s your favorite character?” 

     “Is that even a question? Kirby for sure, he has to be the most powerful. Plus he’s cute, like me! What about you Wonwoo ssi?” 

     “Princess Daisy is the boss, but so underrated.” 

     Soon enough the rest of the group was gathered, Jeongin had gum in his hair but refused to let anyone even come near it with a pair of scissors. They were all engaged in conversation about the best Mario characters, Felix and Seungmin agreeing with everything Changbin said, and Minho carried around Jisung on his shoulders. While Woojin made sure everyone’s costumes were in place. Before he knew it the show was starting and about half of them were in the opening number, changing in and out of costumes at the speed of light.           

     Impressive would be one way to describe it, seeing as it took Wonwoo almost ten minutes to put on a pair of skinny jeans. 

     They had a TV rigged up so everyone could watch the show, and when Wonwoo’s group went up for their performance Soonyoung found his way over, standing next to him and beaming with pride. 

     “Those are my boys up there! They’ve worked so hard these past few months, just watch this part.” He brought Wonwoo’s attention back to the screen as Jisung backflipped over Felix, landing perfectly on his feet with a smirk. “He’s only nine and already one of my best dancers. Hear that Chan? A little kid is taking your place!” 

     Much to Wonwoo’s dissatisfaction, Chan made his way over and strung his arms around Soonyoung. “Jisung’s always been one if your best dancers, what are you talking about? He’ll get scouted in seconds. But we all know that I’m the best dancer you have. The one and only. You could never replace me hyung.” He says it with a pout, rubbing at Soonyoung’s collarbone. And yes, in case you’re wondering, Wonwoo’s jealous. What’s new? 

     He shoves it down though, and goes back to watching. When the boys finish performing they return to him sweaty and panting but with huge smiles, Wonwoo hands out bottles of water and they take it graciously as they’re praised by Wonwoo, Soonyoung, and Chan. 

     Moments later Chan goes back to whatever he was doing, ( Wonwoo couldn’t care less ), and Wonwoo swallows his pride to talk to Soonyoung, telling his group to sit and wait for him. 

     “They’re really good. You must be an amazing teacher.” 

     Soonyoung smiled, all sunshine and sugar and wow, Wonwoo just might be in love. 

     “I’d like to think so,” he laughs, “but that’s all them. They work hard.” 

     “You might have to give me a lesson one of these days, yeah? I could use the practice, as I’m sure you realized by now I’m not the best dancer.” 

     “I’d love to give you a dance lesson.” 

     “Seriously?” 

     “Yeah? Why not?” 

     Somewhere from across the room Chan calls out for him and Wonwoo has to bite back a scowl. 

     “I better get back to work, mine and Chan’s dance is next and I wouldn’t want to be late. I’ll see you around, alright?” 

     Wonwoo nods with fervor, and when he returns to his group they’re all smiling devilishly.

     “Ohhhhhhhh—“ Changbin says as Minho wolf whistles, “someone’s got a crush!!” 

     “I do not!” 

     “Yes you do!”

     “You little—“ 

     “I can’t blame you, Soonyoung songsaenim is really hot.” 

     “Minho!” Jisung slaps him on the shoulder but Minho just laughs. “Oh look, the dance is starting! You better pay attention Wonwoo ssi!” 

     They know how to play the game well, and he turns to the TV just in time to see the stage lights flick back on the screen and a three year old unplugging the TV.

     “Your date is tomorrow.” 

     “Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Finally, finally, Wonwoo hits send on the wedding photos, effectively clearing himself of guilt. He spins around in his chair to look at Jun, who was currently throwing rolled up socks into the basket from across the room. 

     “Jun, do you think I’ll be alone forever.” 

     “No.” 

     “Not very convincing of you.” 

     His date with Soonyoung would go something like this in the ideal world. 

     They’d meet up at the sushi place and Wonwoo would explain that he’s allergic and they would go for barbecue instead. Then, after they were finished, they would go on a walk next to the Han River, kiss with the sunset, and they would live the rest of their lives together as happy little gays. Junhui called him too eager, and shoved a grape jolly rancher in his coat pocket for good luck. 

     And it had to be Soonyoung.  

     But what if it wasn’t? 

     His anxiety kicked up on the train, right outside of the restaurant, and when he entered because well, when was the last time he had an actual date?

     It’s a mess, he knows it the second he opens the door to the restaurant, and there he is. Wonwoo freezes. His soul is being crushed in a weird, nostalgic type of way, with Jeonghan staring him straight in the eye and for a split second it feels too familiar, that deep down ache of ‘ you left ’ bubbling through his veins. He wants to cry, or scream, ask why. But he can’t find the words, part of him doesn’t want to. He turns around and leaves. 

     He’s alone for a minute or two, before Jeonghan follows him outside, sitting next to him on the curb, burying his head in his hands with a deep sigh. 

     “I’m sorry.” 

     “Don’t you have a wife? Kids? A dog, and a perfect life? What are you doing here Jeonghan?” 

     “We broke the engagement off a couple weeks later. Turns out we both had issues, and she didn’t love me. She got with her best friend a couple months later.” 

     “That sucks.” 

     “It was for the best I think. Why are you here? You hate seafood.” 

     “I thought you were someone else. It’s a long story.” 

     Wonwoo shouldn’t be crying, sobbing would be a better word, but how is he supposed to help it? His voice shakes and he could feel how tense Jeonghan was from a mile away.

     “Why’d you leave? Why’d you get weird around me? Did I do something wrong?” Wonwoo asks, desperate for answers. 

     “I thought I was too old for you.” Jeonghan tugs at his hair, a nasty habit since childhood. “You were so young to me. You still liked the world, you know? You didn’t have to deal with all that other shit. I didn’t want to ruin that for you. I thought you’d be okay.” 

     “And I wasn’t.” 

     “And you weren’t. At that point I couldn’t fix it. I didn’t know if you even wanted me to, you know? It sounds so stupid saying it now but god. Wonwoo, I had the fattest fucking crush on you. You were literally everything I could ever ask for, Hell you probably still are, and I couldn’t deal with the thought of ruining everything that much more.” Jeonghan tugs at his hair again. “I still think about that night when you told me you were gay. I constantly think about what I could’ve done differently.” 

     “Sometimes I still think it’s all my fault.” 

     “And I can’t blame you. I was a fucking jerk with zero moral compass, and I had the emotional capacity of a fucking twig.”  

     “I miss us, Jeonghan. At least, I miss the thought of us. It’s been two years, for all I knew you were still in Jeju. I don’t know. I don’t think we can ever be the same. I don’t know if I want us to be.” 

     “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for whatever I did that made us grow apart, I’m sorry for fucking up and leaving you, I’m sorry for not calling, or texting, or even just talking to you once in the past however long. It wasn’t fair. And I knew you like the back of my hand, and I knew it would hurt you, and I did it anyway. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve the pain I gave you,” he pulled at his hair again, “I  just so worried I would hurt you more if I stayed. I young, and stupid, and oblivious to my own feelings, and I guess I didn’t know what to do.”

     A pause. Then, 

     “You’re going to go bald someday. With all that hair pulling.” 

     Jeonghan laughs, nostalgic. “That’s what you always used to say.” 

     “And you would tell me that your hair care routine was strong enough. The long hair was a look on you, I’ll admit.” 

     More silence. Wonwoo’s quiet sobs. Jeonghan’s heavy breathing. 

     “I miss when it was easy.”

     “So do I.” 

     Ten minutes pass in silence. Twenty. 

     “I’m gonna go. Jun is probably worried.” 

     “Yeah. That’s okay. Stay safe.” 

     “I will.” 

     He’s here now. At the bar, crying at the counter and the bartender slides a whisky on the rocks down to him, saying it’s on the house. He takes it graciously and downs it in one go, not giving a damn any longer. Why should he? His life is falling apart, he couldn’t get his shit together and there’s nothing left to live for. He can feel someone sit down next to him but he doesn’t look up, too lost in himself. 

     “Wonwoo?” 

    He looks up, and there he is. Soonyoung’s been crying, but it makes him look more mellowed. More mature. He orders a Bloody Mary, and let’s there be silence for a moment before speaking. 

     “What are you doing here?”

     “It’s a long story.” 

     “I got time.” 

     “I don’t wanna talk about it. What about you? Got any baggage hanging around?”

     Pause. Soonyoung takes a sip of his drink.

     “Won, you remember the wedding, right? Where we met?” 

     “Yeah.”

     “I was drunk because I wanted to forget everything about that night. Seokmin, we only met a couple years ago but I swore up and down that I’d spend the rest of my life with him. And next thing I know he’s marrying Seungkwan and asks me the be the best man. What was I supposed to do? It’s not like I could decline. It’s stupid I know—“ 

     “It’s not stupid. Just unconventional.” 

     “Wonwoo? Am I really. . . Am I really that unloveable? Is there nothing left for me, am I just, doomed to be alone forever? Is there nothing else for me besides this? ” He gestures around him, tears flowing more freely now. “Am I a bad person? Is that it?” 

     “You’re good. There’s still hope left, okay? Okay Soonyoung, you gotta trust me.”

     “Do you think god stays in heaven because he too lives in fear of what he’s created?”

     “Isn’t that a spy kids quote?” 

     “That’s besides the point.”

     Comfort. His head against Soonyoung’s chest, heartbeat underneath his ear, like when he  a child being lulled to sleep by his parents. Fond memories consisted of late nights, his dad tucking him in, laying down and telling him all the good things about the world. Telling him stories about dragons and fairies and magic, his deep voice blending into the night. His mother brought him tea. Meditating with him, lotus pose on top of his pillow, and the steady in out of his breathing. It was all so easy. 

     Soonyoung runs his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair, another comfort, fingers moving deftly over his scalp, running down the back of his neck, singing softly, trying not to disturb this oasis they’ve made for themselves. 

     Peace is a difficult thing to achieve. He hadn’t felt this in awhile, that wave of calm hing over. He felt at home, for once in a long time.

     He didn’t want to think, and Soonyoung blessed him with that. 

     Soonyoung lived in a Goshiwon, a small, one roomed apartment which is close to bare, only having room for a bed, a desk, a cabinet and a small clothing rack. The only light currently is  the moon, plastic and tacky, stuck to the wall. Glowing blue, bright, casting down on them. 

     Wonwoo looks at him in the light and he smiles. Something in his chest expands. Soonyoung’s eyes aren’t honey, or ocean waves. They’re dark. Pools of ink. Nebulous eyes that reflect the heavens. Is this what it meant to stargaze? 

     “You don’t have a window.” 

     “I do not.” 

     More silence. 

    Soonyoung turns to him, and leans closer. He’s glowing. And there are fireworks, and electricity down his spine when their lips are connected. Maybe it isn’t like the movies. Picture perfect. 

    But it’s them. 

     Wonwoo’s watch beeps, and it’s midnight. Soonyoung’s a bit older. 

     “That was nice. I like it.”

     “You don’t think it was too early?” 

     “Nope. It was perfect.” His phone rings, and he answers

      “Where are you?”  

     “With Soonyoung.” 

      “How did that happen?”

     “It’s a long story.” 

      “Are you safe?”

     “Yeah, Jun. I’m okay.” He looks to Soonyoung. “More than okay, actually.” 

Two weeks later.

     They’re on a double date in the pho shop.

     The basket of jolly ranchers is as full as ever, a rainbow of colors enticing children and adults alike to take part in a moment of sugary bliss.

     Seungkwan and Seokmin look as happy as two people could possibly be, the matching rings on their fingers whispering a promise of young love and eternal happiness. Wonwoo could still hear the click of the camera  in the back of his mind, and the exact moment when they slipped the rings onto each other’s hand. There’s something special about it, knowing that two people could love like that. He saw the dedication within them. The love and life. 

     There isn’t really a word to describe the feeling in Soonyoung’s slanted eyes, something melancholy and bittersweet, a deep down, soul crushing type of hurt. Unnoticeable unless you were looking for it.

     Wonwoo slides his hand into Soonyoung’s under the table reminding him that he’s there, and the sadness turns to light. He smiles as Seungkwan praises the photos Wonwoo had taken.

     He easily joins in on the conversation, bringing up a few terms Wonwoo had taught him, mentioning all of the angles and lighting.

     He seems so happy when Seokmin promises a ‘best mans photobook’ in the near future, once Seungkwan stopped stressing about the order in which the photos would be placed.

     The way Soonyoung seems to be able to take his hand and cover up all of the hurt in his heart with sunlight and bluebirds reminded Wonwoo of the Ponyo bandaid Soonyoung had given him on that train what seemed like ages ago.

     It doesn’t stop what’s underneath from hurting, but it shields it, keeps it protected and gives it time to heal. 

     Soonyoung grips his hand a little tighter, directing his attention back to the conversation at hand, giving him a look that makes his heart hurt in the best way.

     And maybe sometimes, Wonwoo thinks, time is all that it takes.

     “Soonyoung!” He’s smiling, Soonyoung can tell even over the phone line and it sends shivers down his spine. God. He missed Seokmin’s voice. 

     “Seok! I’ve missed you so much, what’s up?” 

     “I’ve got some amazing news and I wanted to tell you before you saw it all over social media.” Seokmin pauses, almost as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say next. 

     “Soonyoung, sunshine, I’m getting married. I just proposed to Seungkwan.” 

     Soonyoung’s heart drops to the floor, chest clenching and he could barely keep his breathing under control. It wasn’t fair, but he took a deep breath and responded anyways. 

     “Yeah! That’s… so great. I’m happy for you!”

     “And I want you to be my best man.” 

     How could his heart drop even further? 

     Soonyoung peers into the basket and sighs in relief. One last blue raspberry jolly rancher. He unwraps it and pops it into his mouth, thanking whatever stranger left it for him.