Archive of Our Own

It’s been threatening to snow for the last few days.

You wish it would, mostly because you’ve had enough of ice and this cold without shape, but also because you like the snow. At least for the first week or so, when it’s still magical. It would also give you a great excuse to spend more time cozying up to your boyfriend.

Seungcheol has been keeping his place nice and warm for you. It means that he sleeps mostly naked, which you’ll never complain about, especially during moments like these.

He’s still asleep, his cheek pressed against his pillow. The sound of his breathing has become a comfort to you, one you search for when you can’t quiet your mind. He’s rolled over onto his stomach in the night, leaving the bare expanse of his back exposed to you. It’s so tempting to kiss his warm skin, trace the outlines of his tattoos. So you do.

He makes a muffled, pleased sound. “Baby?”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I couldn’t resist. You look so beautiful when you sleep.”

“‘M the one who’s supposed to say that,” is his drowsy response.

Kissing his shoulder again, you tease him. “Sleeping beauty. My perfect princess.”

This gets his attention. He blinks up at you, lips still swollen and pouty from the night before. “You’re obnoxious.”

“You like it.”

Reaching out, he uses his strength to wrangle you back against him. One leg wraps across your thighs, keeping you pinned to the bed. You giggle, pushing ineffectually at his heavy weight.

“Are you an octopus?”

“No. I’m your boyfriend,” he murmurs, pressing hot, lazy kisses just under your ear.

A shiver races across your skin from the contact. “I don’t know why you always want to sleep in your bed when you end up in my personal space anyway,” you point out.

“Who needs space? Besides, you like my body heat.”

That you do. You also like the way his lips are starting to trail across your shoulder. But you have things to do today and if you don’t take a stand now, you’ll never leave this bed.

“No, Cheol.”

You can feel his pout against your skin. “Just once?”

It’s never just one orgasm with him and he knows it. Either he’ll leave you with jelly legs or leave you too exhausted to move. “No.”

With a heavy sigh, he releases you and sprawls out on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

You roll over to press a kiss to his jaw. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Hm. Want me to make you breakfast before you go?”

You hesitate and his eyes go wide. “What? I know how to cook!”

“I know you do, baby. It's just…”

“What?”

“You tend to get bored with it very quickly and then things go wrong.”

“Like when?” he demands.

“Like when I asked you to peel some sweet potatoes and you almost took your thumb off with the Y-peeler.”

“You didn’t tell me it was invented by the devil.”

“Or when you microwaved the instant rice six times longer than you should have and it was a dry brick.”

“I hit the wrong button!’

You have more examples but it seems cruel to lay them out before him this early in the morning.

“Do you want me to make breakfast?” you offer soothingly.

“No,” he grumbles. “I'll just starve.”

“What if we make breakfast together?”

He accepts your compromise, then proceeds to spend the entire time trying to seduce you back to bed. It’s only when you nearly burn breakfast that he stops, because you confine him to the dining table in retribution. 

He takes care of the dishes afterwards while you go pick out some fresh clothes to head home in. There are plenty to choose from: your side of the closet has expanded recently. At this point you could probably spend a week at Seungcheol’s place without missing much of anything.

Still, you have to do your laundry and meal prep for the work week. Plus there’s budgeting to take care of and a dozen other little things that are easier to do from home.

Seungcheol comes back into the bedroom while you’re tugging on your socks. He’s still shirtless, the warm expanse of skin that’s bared to you just begging for you to run your hands across it.

“You should be illegal,” you tell him, pretending to shield your eyes.

“You get special permission.”

“I’m leaving before you seduce me.”

He trails you to the front door like a sad puppy. “Can we have dinner together at least?” 

“Depends on how much I get done,” you say, like you’re capable of playing hard to get anymore. As much as you like to pretend you have him wrapped around your finger, he has the same power.

You kiss him goodbye and rush through the cold to your frozen car. Blowing on your fingers, you crank up the heater and wait for the warmth. Commuting back and forth between your places in the winter is the worst. Maybe next weekend you’ll just meal prep at his place for the both of you.

After a quick stop by the grocery store, you park in your usual spot and head upstairs to your apartment. You’ve barely finished putting away your groceries when there’s a knock at your door.

It’s Mrs. Lee, your long-term landlord. She’s dressed warmly, but not quite warmly enough for the season; her wrinkled cheeks are bright pink. You wonder how long she’s been outside.

She offers you a paper bag filled with mandarins. The smell fills the air the moment you open it.

“They’re from a friend’s tree. She brought me so many I can’t possibly eat them all.”

“It’s really kind of you, thank you. Can I make you some tea?”

It’s not the first time you’ve had her inside your place, but she still steps inside carefully, switching her thick loafers for the extra pair of slippers you keep by the door.

“Your plant is doing so well,” she remarks, admiring the leaves that have unfurled with the daylight. Her comment reminds you that you should probably water it. All your time with Seungcheol has thrown off your usual habits.

You brew two cups of strong black tea and set out several mandarins and some butter cookies that a coworker gifted you recently. Mrs. Lee settles herself at your dining table and accepts a cup.

You’re not stupid. You know she didn’t just stop by to give you fruit and sure enough, after a few sips of tea, she says, “I am sorry to tell you this.”

You feel your heart drop into your stomach. Mrs. Lee gives you a pitying look as she tells you that she’s planning to sell the complex and move in with her son. “It’s too much to manage at my age,” she explains. “The land is worth a lot and the company I hired to help me make the sale said it’s ripe for development.”

Development? “So,” you start carefully, “does that mean a new landlord will take over?”

At least she looks guilty. 

“I think they want to upscale the building into condos,” she admits.

“So I need to go.”

Mrs. Lee twists her cup around a few times. “I’m sorry, my dear. Part of the sale involves having all existing tenants out by the end of the year. If I had more time, I would do this differently.”

She goes on about spending more time with her grandchildren while she’s able but you’re barely listening. Your brain has shifted into panic mode.

“Right,” you say woodenly. “Of course.”

“You’re the first tenant I’ve told. I want you to have enough time to find somewhere new. And you’ll get your whole deposit back–you’ve lived here long enough and you’ve never been late on rent.”

You like Mrs. Lee, you really do. She’s been more than good to you and she gives you a discount on your rent for being a dependable long-term tenant. But it’s almost December. How are you supposed to find somewhere new in fucking December? 

The moving itself won’t be so bad: you can pay one of your friends to rent a truck and you know they’ll all show up to help. That’s the benefit of knowing so many strong guys and–oh, fuck. You’re going to have to tell Seungcheol about this.

He’s going to go all savior on you and immediately try to fix it. You already know he’ll offer for you to move in with him, which, convenient as that would be, is not part of your plans right now.

What if he doesn’t though? Isn’t that worse in some ways?

Before you can start spiraling, Mrs. Lee clears her throat. “Well, dear, I should start talking to the rest of the tenants. Thank you for the tea.”

You mechanically thank her for the mandarins and show her out. She takes careful, mincing steps down the stairs.

It’s not her fault. She is old and shouldn’t be living alone anymore. You don’t want an absentee landlord and you can’t imagine someone else giving you the same discount anyway. Even if you didn’t have to leave this unit, your rent would still be going up.

But it really, really sucks.

There’s already a lack of affordable places to live alone and you’re not sure how you’re supposed to pull one off on this short notice. Not to mention that you’re going to have competition from everyone else in the complex in the matter of a day or two, depending on how long it takes Mrs. Lee to make her rounds.

Which means you have to move fast.

Dropping down at your tiny dining table, you pull up an apartment finder app and fill in your parameters. Two places. They look dingy and small, but you submit a request to view them anyway. Your next search gives you no options. You try upping your budget a little. One option. It overlaps with your first search.

After an hour goes by, you’ve put in three requests and had to reconsider your budget entirely. Glancing around your place, you sigh. This place is home to you. It’s been years since you’ve had to think about moving and you fully intended to resign your lease at the end of this one.

It’s fine, you remind yourself. You’ve gotten through worse. You’ll get through this, too.

Your phone chimes with the custom text tone you’ve assigned to Seungcheol. You felt a little silly doing that, but it lets you know which texts to pay attention to. Now he’s the only person (besides your cousin) who has his own tone. (You haven’t told him. He’d be unbearable if he knew and jealous to find out he’s not the only one.)

Cheollie: Miss you already

You: It’s only been a few hours you big baby

Cheollie: 🙁 tell that to my heart

You: It’s only been a few hours Seungcheol’s heart

Cheollie: 🙁🙁🙁 try again

You: oops sorry

You: It’s only been a few hours Cheollie’s precious soft heart

Cheollie: 🥰

You: I’m screencapping this and putting it in group chat

Cheollie: not even bothered

You: wow you’re no fun 👎

Cheollie: they all know how i feel about you

Cheollie: dinner tonight? What time?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. You should say yes–and you want to, you really do. But you should be apartment hunting and you can’t do that with Seungcheol around. You can’t do anything around him. The two of you end up either wrapped up in conversation or having sex every time you’re together, which isn’t a bad way to spend time. It’s just not conducive to your future living situation.

You: can’t tonight baby. I still have some things to take care of.

Cheollie: Things

You: tell you later

You: Absence, heart, blah blah blah

Cheollie: 🤔

You: 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

You: don’t you have some laundry to do anyway?

Cheollie: doesn’t take a whole night to do laundry but fiiiiine 🙁

A little bit of space is good anyway, you tell yourself. You feel like you’ve forgotten how to be alone. It’s good to remind yourself now and then.

After all, you used to love it.

You kind of hate it now.

Apartment hunting is going terribly. The first three places you check out each have something horrific about them in different ways (mold, cockroaches, a weird hole in the shared wall with the neighbors that you don’t even want to think about). You find a fourth place but the landlord wants $1000 as a deposit before he’ll even let you look at it, which already tells you everything you need to know.

You go into the first week of December feeling frustrated and stressed. At this rate you might have to take a month-to-month lease and eat into your savings for a bit, just to have a place to stay in time. That’s the absolute worst case scenario though.

Well, no. The worst case scenario is asking your friends for help, which you absolutely do not want to do. They’ve done more than enough for you and putting this kind of pressure on them now, at the end of the year, is too much to ask. Especially of Seungcheol, who’s still a little wobbly from being sick last month and immediately diving back into trying to take care of everything alone.

You don’t want to be another thing that has to be taken care of. You want to hold your own. 

With this resolution in mind, you open up another apartment finder and start searching. It’s all the same places you’ve already seen, but you keep hoping something new will come up. Something does come up, but it’s $900 out of your price range.

“Ugh.” You groan aloud, staring up at the ceiling.

You haven’t seen Seungcheol in five days, not since this misery began. You’ve been holding him back with excuses about work but you can only do that so many times before it starts becoming ridiculous. Work has never stopped the two of you from connecting, even if it’s dinner over a video call.

He’s bound to become suspicious soon; he’s sensitive like that. Not to mention that you’re not enjoying the distance, either. It’s just that if he presses too hard, you’re going to cry and confess everything.

All you need is an apartment. The sooner you find a place, the sooner you can go back to your normal life.

Your phone rings in your hand. Seungcheol’s ringtone. You hesitate, but only for a second.

His warm, eager voice fills the room. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey, Cheol.”

His tone immediately shifts into worried mode. “You sound distracted, are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I was looking at–uh–bills and stuff. All that fun adulting paperwork.”

“Ah. Any prob–”

“What are you doing? Gym?”

He must be walking somewhere fast in the cold–you can hear his breathing getting shallower. “Actually, I was thinking of skipping the gym today and meeting you for dinner. I haven’t seen much of you lately.”

You wince at the wall. You were really hoping he wouldn’t notice the distance, but of course he has. It’s just that between work and Cheol, you don’t have a lot of time to look at apartments and that’s kind of your priority right now.

“Yeah, sorry, babe. Things have been so crazy lately and I’m just tired.”

“Me too. Let’s be tired together. Better than being tired alone.”

He’s right. And your whole body aches to hold his. Not even sexually; you just want to be snuggled up with him, pretending that your entire life isn’t falling apart in December.

“Plus, I’m going to be traveling soon.”

Right. When you both decided to take a week off from your respective jobs in December, you knew the trade-off would be hard. You’ve been working overtime and Seungcheol has been picking up more shareholder meetings, trying to get all his traveling out of the way. It wears him out, just like working late is hard on you. The only comfort is getting to see each other whenever possible.

And you’re the one ruining that.

“It’s not a good time right now. Tonight.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “Bun,” he asks carefully, “is something wrong?”

“No, just busy and tired.”

“Right. Do you need space? From me?”

You sit up straight on the couch. “What? No!”

“Because if I need to do something differently–”

“No,” you say firmly. “It’s not you at all. I’m just working on something. I promise I’ll tell you all about it soon.”

You can tell he doesn’t entirely believe you, can hear it in the way his voice hesitates. “Right. Okay. Good. So I’ll see you when I get back?”

“Yes. Sunday, right?” You’ll have a place by Sunday. You’re sure of it. Then you can tell Seungcheol about the problem and that you’ve already solved it. Nice and neat. 

“Sunday,” he agrees.

“I’ll come over and cook all your favorites to make up for it, okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m counting down the days.”

So are you, but for a different reason entirely. Guilt gnaws at your belly the moment you hang up.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell yourself out loud.

You can’t help but feel more and more lately that you’re doing everything wrong.

You go to see two more awful places while Seungcheol is traveling. The entire time you think about how you’re no closer to a solution, but you’re further away from all the things that make you happy. This time of year is never easy on you: it reminds you of too many things you’d like to keep pushed aside. Spending time with your boyfriend and your close friends is the only balm to these feelings, and you’ve denied yourself that by being ridiculous and stubborn.

Seungcheol is coming home tomorrow and you’ve resolved to spend time with him regardless of where your search is at. You’re not going to survive being apart from him much longer. You’re going to make him his favorite meal and apologize for being such an idiot. And maybe even tell him the truth about the situation.

You might start with Wonwoo on the apartment issue though. He’s more reasonable about these things and better at keeping a secret than the rest of your friends. You’re considering texting him when there’s a knock on your door.

At first you think it’s Mrs. Lee coming to check on you. You’ve been avoiding her as much as possible until you have an answer to her question of when do you plan to move out? The place is still legally yours until December 31st, and while you don’t want to cause problems for her, she’s causing them for you so…

Except when you look through the peephole, all you can see are flowers. Beautiful blooms in colors that shouldn’t be possible in winter. Seungcheol must have come back from his trip early to surprise you. Pulling open the door, you prepare to greet your boyfriend with a huge grin.

Except it’s not Seungcheol that’s standing on your landing. The long-lashed man bearing flowers is your cousin.

“Hansol!” He lifts the bouquet up just in time for you to throw your arms around him. “You’re back! When did you get back?”

“Two days ago,” he replies, and the exhaustion is clear in his voice. “I slept all day yesterday but I knew if I waited any longer to see you, you’d kill me.”

“Damn right.” Pulling back, you whisk the flowers out of his hand. “I’ll take these.”

“Sufficient entry fee?”

“They’ll do.”

You rush straight to the kitchen, rummaging under the sink for your trusty teal vase. It’s got a chip taken out of the rim but it’s been your favorite for years. You stole it from an old college roommate as revenge for leaving you with the last electric bill.

Hansol wanders in behind you. “I think you’re happier to see the flowers than me.”

“Nonsense. There, don’t they look perfect? The florist did a great job.”

“Hey, maybe I picked them out.”

“You didn’t.”

“Maybe I have an eye for beautiful things,” Hansol protests. He crumbles under your sharp gaze a moment later. “Yeah, okay, I let them choose.”

The flowers are gorgeous enough that Seungcheol is going to sulk about them, even if they’re platonic. He doesn’t care for anyone else giving you pretty things, or for sharing your favor. It’s cute and a little ridiculous.

Which…you should probably tell Hansol about your boyfriend, but you’re not exactly sure how to introduce the subject. 

You start to prep the coffee maker when Hansol stops you. 

“Actually,” he says almost shyly, “I’m really into tea these days.”

“Oh, I see. Spend a few months in China and now you’re a tea person.”

He shrugs. You heat up the kettle instead. There’s barely room for two mugs on your dining table with how much space the flowers are taking up. It’s a bit silly and delightful.

“So, explain to me how it’s been five years since I last saw you.”

Hansol snorts. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“It totally has. The war had just ended and electricity was becoming common in houses and…”

He gives you a gentle shove.

“Last time I saw you was…let’s see–September. You were grumbling about potentially going on a camping trip with your friends, but you were mad because that dude you hate was going to be there. Seung…Seung-something.”

“Seungcheol. Uh…” You fiddle with a daisy stem. “I have a lot to catch you up on.”

Hansol gives you a strange look. “I figured, but why do you look so guilty about it?”

You launch into an explanation of how yes, you did go on the camping trip and yes, Seungcheol was there. And how you maybe-sort-of hooked up. And how all your friends found out and now you’re maybe-sort-of-definitely dating.

“Wow.” Hansol leans back in his chair, eyes wide. “Wow. Just–wow.”

“Can you say something other than ‘wow’ please?”

“Damn.”

“I’m gonna slap you so hard…”

He laughs, heart-shaped mouth going wide with mirth. “Okay, okay. Just, I can’t believe you slept with your worst enemy on a camping trip.”

“Okay, well now he’s my super awesome boyfriend.”

He looks around the room as though he’ll see Seungcheol there.

“He’s traveling for work today,” you explain. “But he’ll be back tomorrow if you want to meet him.”

Grimacing, Hansol says, “Can’t, have to work, sorry. Just had enough time to come see you.”

It’s disappointing that you can’t introduce him to Seungcheol yet, but you’re still glad Hansol thought to make you a priority. But really, a day is all he can give you? “So you can spend three months in China and you can’t hang out with me for more than a few hours?”

“Okay, first of all, I was working.”

“Uh huh. Just working. Not having a good time with a certain handsome singer.”

“Okay, it was both. That’s allowed. Right?”

“It is,” you say with a giggle. “So, tell me all about Minghao. Did you know he’s friends with Seungcheol?”

Hansol scrunches his handsome face up. “No. How would I know that? Is that even true?”

You explain to him that Seungcheol played Minghao’s music for you back on your fateful camping trip. It was a bonding moment for the two of you. Even now, hearing those songs puts you right back in his car in September, driving through the mountainside.

“If you liked those songs, you’re going to go insane over what we’ve been working on. This album is going to launch Hao into stardom.”

It’s such a weird thing to hear from Hansol, but he keeps going, passionately talking about Minghao’s work ethic and vocal range and fashion sense. Hansol is not a huge talker unless he’s comfortable or really into what he’s talking about. Right now it’s both.

When he started getting into producing music, his parents were a bit confused but still relieved. Despite being a peaceful kid, he never showed a strong inclination towards anything. But music? That made sense to him.

And he’s good at it. You don’t know much about music production outside of what he’s taught you, but you know what you like. You know the way a song makes you break out in goosebumps or how a singer’s voice lingers with you. And Hansol is skilled at making music that lingers, that settles over your skin like a coat.

You love the way his face lights up when he talks about music, and about Minghao. He must be so far gone, you think. He’s even picking up Mandarin.

“I’m so bad at it,” he explains. He’s been talking for at least fifteen minutes straight without touching his tea. “It’s not like Korean at all, you know? But Minghao is really patient with me. When he speaks it’s just…like a river. It flows. It’s beautiful.”

“So, when’s the wedding?” you tease him, enjoying the way his gaze drops down to his lap, his smile turning bashful.

“It’s not like that, Bun.”

“It certainly is, but okay.”

“He’s just really…special. He’s such a unique person and I love the way he sees the world.”

“Hey,” you tell Hansol, reaching out to grip his wrist for a moment. “I love that about you, too. So as long as he appreciates that, I’m happy.”

“Thanks, Bun. But nothing’s going on,” he adds hurriedly. “Don’t make assumptions.”

Some nothing, you think, based on Hansol’s reaction. But he can be as cagey or as open with you as he wants. He’s earned it.

Hansol helps himself to a mandarin, peeling it with careful fingers. Seeing them reminds you that you need to find a place. Soon.

“Hey,” he says, nudging you with his knuckles. “Where’d you go?”

“Huh?”

“You totally spaced out just now. I saw your eyes just go…” He makes a wavy motion with one hand.

“I have a problem.”

“I kind of figured,” he says, not unkindly. “Maybe I can help.”

Sighing, you try to decide if you want to drag Hansol into this. Sure, he’s your cousin, but he’s also the only member of your family you really trust still. And he’s good at solving problems.

In the end you tell him all of it. He eats mandarins through your entire explanation, but nods seriously at all the right points so you know he’s listening.

“You can crash at my place,” he says, in his usual calm, earnest way. “I’m rarely there anyway.”

“I can’t do that to you, Han.”

“Sure you can. I’m offering. I mean, some of your stuff might have to go into storage, but it’s a comfortable place and I wouldn’t mind having you around. Plus, like I said, rarely there.”

It’s not an ideal solution, but it’s a solution. Something to keep tucked in your back pocket in case of an emergency.

You appreciate that he doesn’t offer you money. He knows you wouldn’t take it and it wouldn’t solve the problem anyway, not for the long term. But having a place to stay if everything else fails does help.

“If I hear of anyone subletting, I’ll let you know.”

“No one weird,” you say. “I don’t want to trade one bad situation for another. Plus, Seungcheol gets super jealous, so roommates are out of the question.”

“Uh, red flag much?”

“Not with him.”

Hansol scrunches up his face again in disbelief.

“He just needs a lot of attention. Like a tropical fish.”

“Again…this guy sounds a hundred percent not who you’d go for.”

“You’d get it if you saw us together,” you protest. “Which you could if you’d come over tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if I want to meet him,” says Hansol, in a voice that’s not entirely joking.

You make lunch and sit together for a few more hours, catching up on his work and where he’s off to next (London). He leaves you with another hug and a promise to return sooner this time.

You hope he does. It’s great to see him living his own life out in the world, but you miss the days when he was over more frequently. No one gets you quite like Hansol does.

Except maybe Seungcheol.

Having a contingency plan has encouraged you enough that you feel more comfortable taking a night off of searching. You really, really miss your boyfriend. Checking the time, it occurs to you that he should be back at his hotel by now, probably waiting to see if you’ll text for dinner.

You: Cheollie, are you done with work?

You: Do you want to have dinner “together” tonight?

There’s no immediate response, which means he must still be busy. He’ll text as soon as he can, he’s good about that. 

Except an hour goes by and there’s nothing. He’s not even leaving you on read, which would be some comfort.

You: I hope you’ve at least eaten something today

As more time passes, you start feeling anxious. He’s never away from his phone for this long and he never ignores you in particular. There’s also been silence in group chat for hours. Something feels off.

You: Has anyone heard from Seungcheol today?

You: He isn’t responding to my texts

Joshua starts typing immediately, then stops. You’re wondering why when a message comes up on your direct thread with him.

Joshua: Seungcheol is with me

Before you can ask what’s going on, he follows it quickly with He’s upset.

You: Why???

Joshua: He’s thinks you’re seeing someone else

Joshua: Bun, what’s going on?

You: I’d like to know that as well!!!! Who else would I be seeing!?

Joshua: He said he saw you with another guy today

Joshua: He went into your apartment

Joshua: With flowers

You: Oh my god

You mash the call button repeatedly, then wait for it to connect while your knee jogs up and down under the table.

“He–”

“Joshua,” you say hurriedly, “that was Hansol.”

“Oh,” is the relieved response. “Oh.” Then, “Hansol brought you flowers?”

“He was possessed with guilt.” Glad that one of your closest friends now recognizes you’re not a nasty evil cheater, you ask, “Can you put my boyfriend on the phone please?”

“I can, but he might not be in the best shape right now.” You can hear Jeonghan’s exasperated voice get louder in the background as Joshua moves back into the room. “Okay, putting you on speaker.”

“Cheol,” you call out.

“Oh good,” says Jeonghan. “You got her? Talk to your girlfriend.”

Seungcheol’s miserable voice wavers, revealing the extent of his drunkenness. “Don’t… wanna talk to her…”

Oh boy.

“Cheollie,” you say gently. “Sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not…your sweetheart anymore.”

Wow, you think. Joshua wasn’t kidding.

“How long have you been drinking, Cheol?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles near the phone. “Why do you care?”

“Because, my big dumb gorgeous boyfriend, you’re going to have a horrible hangover in the morning and feel pretty stupid.”

“No. I saw him! I saw…”

“You did. You saw him. But Cheol, that’s not some random guy. That’s my cousin.”

The line is silent except for Jeonghan’s whispered “Oh” in the background.

Continuing, you say, “His name is Hansol. We used to meet up once a month to catch up and I’d cook for him because he can’t make anything but ramyeon and even that’s questionable, but he’s actually been in China for the last few months working on an album with your friend, Minghao.”

You’re not sure how much of that Seungcheol processes, but finally he says back, “He’s your cousin?”

“Yep. Pinky promise, cross my heart, swear on my fuzzy socks.”

You figure the socks have you covered, but Seungcheol is not entirely convinced yet.

“But he’s handsome,” Seungcheol says suspiciously.

“Okay,” you laugh. “Sure. But we’re related so I’m not going to touch that.”

“And you have me,” he insists.
“Yes, Cheollie. And I have you. Why would I look anywhere else?”

He mumbles something you can’t make out.

Joshua’s soft voice comes through the phone. “Bun, do you think you can come get him? I think it’s time he went home.”

You agree. “Cheollie, I’m coming to get you, okay?”

“M’kay.”

“Can you do me a favor? Can you drink some water until I get there?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Bun?”

“Hm?”

“Can I be your sweetheart again?”

“Of course you can.”

Jeonghan wrestles the phone away and says “Can you just stop and come get him already? We were supposed to be having a date night.”

“Oh no…so much traffic…”

“Bun.”

“I’m on my way you princess,” you tell him.

In the background Joshua calls, “Was that for Hannie or Cheol?”

Laughing, you hang up. As you grab your keys off their hook, you feel a pang of guilt. How did you never mention Hansol? Sure, he’s been busy for a while, but you must have talked about him with the guys before. Though Seungcheol probably wasn’t listening all those times; it’s not like you remember anything he said about his life before September.

Your car shudders against the cold as you start it up. If Seungcheol had been any earlier or later to see you today, he would have gotten to meet Hansol and none of this would have happened. But instead he saw an arguably handsome guy bring you a big bouquet before following you into your apartment. No wonder he’s such a mess.

It’s a little sweet, you think. Seungcheol’s sensitive and jealous, but it just means he really cares.

There’s no traffic, but the roads are icy so you take your time driving to Joshua and Jeonghan’s place. You wish you’d dressed a little warmer before rushing out the door. Your car’s heater is working overtime trying to keep the windows clear and your fingers defrosted.

When you arrive, Jeonghan is waiting for you at the door. “Good. You’re here.”

Rolling your eyes, you push past him in search of your boyfriend. He’s sitting on their sofa, bleary-eyed, still dressed for work. His head is low and heavy, shoulders hunched. When he raises his head to look at you, he looks truly miserable.

“Oh, Cheollie,” you say softly, dropping down beside him.

He immediately wraps his arms around you with surprising strength before rubbing his face against your shoulder like a cat trying to cover you in his scent.

“He’s so gone,” says Joshua. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

You absently stroke Seungcheol’s hair while glancing around the coffee table. There’s nothing besides a lot of empty glasses, some with alcohol, and some with what you’re hoping is water.

“Has he had anything to eat?”

“Rum,” says Jeonghan, holding up a shockingly low bottle. “And some whiskey.”

“And some beer,” adds Joshua.

“Food. Has he had any food?”

“We tried. He kept saying he didn’t want to eat without you.”

“Always eat together,” mumbles Seungcheol. He tries to kiss you, but you shift away so he hits your cheek instead. “Baby, whyyy?”

“Cheol, you smell like alcohol. I’m not kissing you.” Reaching forward, you ask, “Which of these cups is water?”

Joshua points it out so you take the half-empty cup and thrust it into Seungcheol’s hands. “Finish this, please, and then I’ll take you home.”

He throws the entire amount back in two giant gulps, then slams the glass down on the table, making everyone jump. “Time to go…home!”

“Time to go home,” Jeonghan agrees grimly.

Joshua helps you wrangle Seungcheol out and into your car. He’s surprisingly steady for someone with that much alcohol in him, though he all but collapses once you close him in. You stand outside your car, fighting the urge to shake your head in frustration. Seungcheol looks simultaneously very small and very large crunched into your passenger seat.

“Don’t be mad at him, Bun.”

“I’m not,” you say to Joshua with a sigh. “I wish I could have explained everything earlier. It never occurred to me that this could happen.”

“Still, I should have realized it was Hansol. I know you usually see him every month.” Joshua shakes his head ruefully. “Could have solved this right away.”

“Except he had to show up with flowers for the first time in his fucking life.” You give a little dry laugh at this. “I don’t think Cheol would have believed you anyway.”

“No, probably not.”

Seungcheol is starting to doze, which is only going to make your job harder soon. He needs electrolytes and food, actual food to soak up the alcohol.

Before you can go around to the driver’s seat, Joshua gently catches your shoulder. “Bun, there’s something else he said. You’ve been avoiding him?”

Oh. Of course he noticed. It breaks your heart that not only did he notice, but now Joshua knows, too.

Seeing your expression, Joshua continues, “If it’s about your relationship, it’s best to just tell him. Before he gets too…attached to you.”

“It’s not that,” you say, tears stinging your eyes in the cold. “I promise it’s not that. I’m just dealing with something.”

Joshua’s face turns even more serious as he asks, “You’re not in trouble, are you? Because we–”

Jeonghan’s impatient voice carries down to the parking lot. “Say goodbye already!”

“Dear god,” you laugh. “Go have sex with your boyfriend so he’ll shut up.”

“Bun!”

“I’m not in trouble, Shua. It’s nothing that can’t be solved. I’ll talk to Cheol, I promise. Let me get him home before he vomits in my car.”

That’s the last thing you want to deal with tonight.

Joshua hands over Seungcheol’s keys and you promise to bring him by tomorrow to get his car.

“It’ll be fine for a night or two. Just be safe.”

“We will. Thanks, Shua.”

Seungcheol rallies when you climb into the car. “”S hot.”

“That’s because you’re filled with alcohol.” Still, you close the vents on his side of the car so he can’t feel the heat as much. Reaching back, you rummage across your backseat until you come up with a reusable bag left over from your last shopping trip.

Thrusting it at him, you instruct him to throw up in the bag if he needs to. He holds it miserably in both hands.

“You’re mad at me.”

“Not mad at you, Cheollie. I’m sorry, actually. I didn’t know you were coming home early. I didn’t know Hansol was coming over either.”

“Wanted…t’ surprise you.”

“Looks like we both ended up surprised,” you quip, leaning a little to make sure it’s safe to merge. The sky is pitch black and the road is shiny, making you anxious. It still hasn’t snowed  yet, but it’s certainly cold outside.

Seungcheol’s eyes slip shut and he leans against his seatbelt, making it easier on you. At least you don’t have to watch him and try to drive. Thankfully, you get back to your place without issue. Seungcheol inhales and sits up as you put your car in park.

“I hope you can walk,” you say lightly, trying to hide how nervous you are. “Because I can’t exactly carry you.”

With an affronted tone, Seungcheol assures you he can walk, then leans hard on you the entire way upstairs. At one point you fall into the bannister, earning you what will be a fresh bruise on your hip tomorrow.

Dinner is quick: instant rice, instant soup, leftovers. The sooner you get food into him, the better off he’ll be. He eats with gusto, practically shoveling his portion into his mouth before you’ve even taken your first bite. Then, almost immediately, his head droops.

He’s had a hard time lately and you’ve been no help.

“Bun…”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, sweetheart. You need some sleep.”

For once he doesn’t fight with you. He lingers at the table while you rinse off the dishes, then follows you to your room. You help him strip down to sleep and leave him cozy in bed while you get yourself ready for the night.

Seungcheol is dozing by the time you return. “Kiss?” he mumbles hopefully as you settle in.

It’s cute, but he still smells strongly of alcohol despite the toothpaste and mouthwash. Instead, you kiss his forehead, which is already clammy and hot. He’s going to have a terrible morning. At this rate he might have a terrible night.

You hold him this time, tucking your head against his broad back. Even this feels good, right. Like you’re both where you’re supposed to be.

The next morning is as bad as you expected. Seungcheol sips Liquid IV with a beaten expression, groaning at every movement. 

“I don’t like this flavor.”

“Could be worse,” you point out. “I could give you some of those herbal remedy drinks instead.”

He falls immediately silent and keeps sipping. 

You’re a bit tired as well. Despite enjoying being warm, Seungcheol was a furnace all night and the smell of alcohol on his breath kept you from cozying up to him properly. Maybe it’s time to consider a larger bed, especially if the two of you are going to continue to switch off staying at each other’s places for the long term.

You just have to solve that small problem of finding a new place first.

The two of you sit together in frustrated silence until Seungcheol says, “Do you have any pictures?”

“Of Hansol?”

He nods.

“What, you want proof?”

“It’s not like that–”

But you swipe through your phone anyway. “Um, this is us at his 17th birthday party. I used it for his contact image because he looks like such a dweeb. Here’s my aunt and uncle–his parents, obviously. My…” You swipe the image of your parents away.

“This one is more recent. I was trying to teach him how to cook tomato egg stir-fry. It was like right before he left for China, so I don’t know why he asked me when he could just learn there.”

Seungcheol studies each photo as he works his way through his drink.

“I feel so stupid,” he says as you show him the fifteenth or so photo of your childhood with Hansol.

“I mean, I can see why you thought the worst. I wouldn’t cheat on you though, Cheol.”

“He just had all those flowers…”

“First and last time,” you say with a laugh. “He’s never done that before but he knew I was mad he hadn’t visited in so long.”

Carding his fingers through his hair, Seungcheol sighs. “I just don’t want to be like that. You know?”

You know. Seungcheol is easily riled, but for once you don’t blame him.

“If I saw you hugging a beautiful woman I didn’t know and she followed you into your apartment, I’d feel pretty bad, too.” The thought strikes you suddenly. “You don’t have any pretty female cousins I should know about, do you? Or pretty male cousins? Any pretty cousins at all?”

He snorts. “Just my ugly ass brother.”

“You’re awful.”

The last sip of the Liquid IV disappears; he leans over you to set the empty cup on your nightstand. “Also, we haven’t seen much of each other lately and I just felt like…I don’t know, like you were avoiding me.”

When you don’t immediately respond, he continues, “So that, combined with your cousin…”

“Hansol.”

“Hansol. And the flowers. I just kind of fell apart I guess.”

“Why didn’t you just text me?”

“I didn’t think I could be calm about it. I was waiting until I was calmer.”

You respect that decision. In fact, you’re relieved that Seungcheol’s response wasn’t to show up at your door ready to shout and fight. Leaning over, you hug him around the waist, pressing your cheek into his shoulder.

“What’s that for?”

“Just…I’m grateful that even though you were upset you didn’t try to take it out on me. Most guys wouldn’t react that well.”

“I’m not most guys,” he says with a pout.

“You aren’t. You’re the best guy. Seriously. Now let me make my best guy some soup.”

You’re headed to the kitchen when you hear the knock. It’s too early for it to be anything you want to deal with. Of course, when you look, it’s Mrs. Lee. If you don’t answer the door she’ll keep knocking and then Seungcheol will get involved.

Cracking open your door, you grimace at the cold. “Good morning Mrs. Lee. It’s really early.”

“Oh,” she says brightly, “these old bones don’t rest like they used to. There will be time for that soon enough.”

It’s morbid, but her cheerful voice leaves you in a position where you don’t really know what to say. Plus, all your hot air is escaping, but you don’t want to let her in, either.

“If you want to talk, I can come by later,” you try, but she says, “I haven’t heard from you yet and I was wondering if you’ve found a new place.”

Fighting the urge to scowl, you keep your voice calm, polite. “Not yet, but I promise I’ll be out by the 31st, like the lease requires.”

She has to be cold. Why isn’t she leaving? Only one of your neighbors has moved out so far–she should go bother everyone else and leave you alone. 

“Why don’t you move in with that handsome boyfriend of yours? I’ve seen his car outside before, he must have a big place.”

“It’s–we’re–it’s not like that,” you say lamely.

“Oh,” says Mrs. Lee, her face clouding with judgment. “I see.”

You realize with horror that she now thinks you’re seeing a married man. Waving your hands frantically, you hurry to explain. “I just meant we haven’t been dating that long. It’s too soon for that.”

“You know, I met my husband one week before we were married,” remarks Mrs. Lee. “We were together for over forty years.”

You make a polite sound. 

Perhaps finally realizing that you’re not going to invite her in, Mrs. Lee reminds you that the month is going to end quicker than you know (and you know how quickly it’s ending) and minces back downstairs. Despite your urge to slam the door shut immediately, you wait until she’s at the bottom safely before easing it shut.

“Fucking fuck,” you mutter, feeling your exposed skin sting from the chill.

Seungcheol is leaning up against the hallway door frame. His thick brows are drawn low, either from nausea or concern, you’re not entirely sure. But it’s too much to hope he didn’t hear any of that.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“When I found another place.”

“And have you?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you say quietly, “No.”

“Is this why you’ve been so busy?”

Under his concerned gaze, you confess it all: the impending condos, your desperate search to find a place, the shit options you’ve seen so far. When you finish, you scrub at your arms while standing under the closest heating vent. You’re really going to miss this heater. 

“Bun,” he says seriously, and you know what’s coming. Sure enough, he continues, “You can always move in with me. I have the space and we spend enough time at my place anyway.”

He’s not wrong, but the thought of moving in with Seungcheol makes your stomach twist up in knots. More than anything you’re relieved he’s offering, but it’s still too intimidating to consider. 

It feels too much like being at his mercy, and while Seungcheol doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d take advantage of your need, you can’t bring yourself to take that risk. Not now.

In a small voice you say, “I’m not ready for that yet.”

Preparing yourself for another fight, you take a shaky breath as you search for the right words you’ll need to defend yourself. 

Except Seungcheol surprises you. “Okay.”

The breath leaves you as a soft exhale. “Okay?”

“I’m not going to argue with you. If you’re not ready then you’re not ready. We’ll find you a new place.”

It seems too easy. Why is it so easy?

“And you’re not mad?”

“Not mad,” he says. “A little disappointed, but I also expected your response. I hope that someday you’ll want to live with me though.”

“I will,” you assure him, even though you’re not convinced yet. It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with giving up your sense of security. Trusting another person that deeply is always something that’s eluded you.

Still, Seungcheol’s expression relaxes at your words. “Good. Okay. I have to make some phone calls. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“We?”

“Of course,” he says over his shoulder. “I know an excellent realtor.”

You scamper after him. He’s searching through his pants from yesterday, all nausea apparently forgotten. 

“Cheol, not that I don’t appreciate the help, but, uh, I can’t afford your realtor. Or anything they might find.”

He lists a number shockingly close to your budget and you stare back at him.

“I know the average rent in this area. You mentioned your landlord was nice so I assumed she was giving you a discount, but your next landlord is unlikely to be that nice so you’ve probably accounted for the extra amount. Given the rest of your expenses–”

“Okay, okay, I get it. You’re smart.”

He smiles, but it’s a bit grim. “It’s going to be hard, Bun.”

“I know,” you say with a heavy sigh. “That’s why I still haven’t found a place yet.” 

“Leave it to me,” he says, swiping his thumb through his contacts. Having a mission seems to have revitalized him, so you leave him to it and go make breakfast. The massive bouquet is taking up the entire dining table still, so you move it to the coffee table to make space. It really is silly.

You’ve just put the lid down on the rice porridge to let it simmer when he comes out again. “All right, Rika is on it.”

“Rika?” you ask. “So you have a pretty realtor then.”

“Lesbian,” he says, settling at the table and immediately resting his head on it.

You’re a little curious how he knows that, but he looks far too exhausted for teasing. Putting more of a burden on him was never your plan. If you bring it up though, he’s just going to fight with you. Biting your cheek, you smooth his hair out.

You’re not confident Rika will find anything you can afford, but for the moment it feels nice to have someone else doing the work.

“I have to admit,” you say carefully. “I thought you’d be angrier.”

“Do you want me to be angry?”

“Of course not.”

“Good,” he mumbles into the table. “Because I kinda am, but my head hurts too much to fight and those flowers are ridiculous and I’m really hoping you’re making me juk and I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

His honesty makes you laugh, the sound causing him to grimace. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby. Food will be done soon.”

“Thank you.”

You start to move back towards the kitchen but he catches your hand, placing it back down on his head. “Keep going. Please.”

You do, until you absolutely have to check on the food. The rice is tender and creamy, the perfect balm to his hangover. He eats it slowly, then with more enthusiasm as his stomach adjusts to the comforting meal.

As you lift your own spoon, you notice something behind his back. “Cheol, look outside.”

He glances back to see what you do: bits of white fluff floating through the air, piling up on your balcony. 

“First snow,” he says as you come over to stand closer to the window. 

“First snow,” you agree, letting him wrap one arm around your waist. He leans his head on your hip while the snow drifts and gathers.

You stay together like that for a long time.

Rika, the pretty (lesbian) realtor, wastes no time coming up with a list of potentials. You visit her office downtown together after work and she presents you with a tablet. “Here’s everything I found with your criteria. It’s not a lot, but I’m still on the hunt.”

It’s more than you were able to find in two weeks of searching on your own. Only two of the apartments on the list are ones you’ve already seen; you mention it and she strikes them off immediately. 

“If any of them look good to you, I’ll set up a viewing right away. Seungcheol said you’re on a time crunch.”

“End of December,” you say, still in awe of her efficiency. “I can’t believe you were able to find all of these so fast.”

“Oh, I like a challenge,” she tells you.

Seungcheol grins. “Told you she was on it.”

You don’t even want to know how much he’s paying her. She’s got very sharp, neat eyebrows and a tailored suit that makes her look more like a lawyer than a realtor. You stamp down the urge to smooth your own brows.

After going through the list, you pick out a few places and Rika promises to schedule something soon. You leave her office feeling a little better. Something has to come up after all this work.

“Mingyu wants me for a gym session,” says Seungcheol, glancing at his phone. “Do you want me to drop you off at my place? It shouldn’t take too long.”

Except you have a message from Mingyu’s better half.

Wonwoo: Dinner?

Wonwoo: Just us

You: Say no more

“Actually, I’m going to have dinner with Wonwoo.”

Seungcheol pouts. “Oh. Fine then.”

“I can bring you something back.”

But he’s feeling reasonable tonight. “I’ve got leftovers to finish off. But thank you.” He gives you a quick kiss. “Let me know if you need a ride back.”

You promise to let him know before heading off on foot. The snow has stopped but it’s absolutely freezing out, making you power walk in search of your friend.

You meet Wonwoo at a Vietnamese restaurant downtown. He looks effortlessly handsome even outfitted in a thick winter coat, gloves, and scarf. When you get closer though, he’s already shaking.

“Oh good,” he says, immediately moving for the door. “Let’s go inside, please.”

“You could have waited in there!”

Neither of you are good with the cold, but he’s worse. He and Mingyu have spent the majority of their relationship fighting over the thermostat.

You ask for a table as far from the door as possible and order immediately. You’ve both been here a dozen times and with the weather as it is, there’s only one viable meal option: phở.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you say, once you’ve handed over your menus, “but we rarely hang out as just the two of us these days. Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong,” replies Wonwoo. “I just need to talk to you about something.”

“If this is about the Hansol thing, or the apartment thing, or anything else I may or may not be responsible for, I don’t wanna hear it.”

Wonwoo gives you a perplexed look that makes you wish you could eat your words. “It’s none of those…but now I have questions.”

“Don’t care! Tell me your thing.”

“It’s about Mingyu, actually.”

The heavy way he says it has you instantly on edge. You’ve been friends with both of them since college, only a little after Jeonghan, but you know that if it came down to it you’d choose Wonwoo. He’s tapping his wooden chopsticks against the table right now; he hasn’t even broken them apart yet, but just keeps moving the little packet around in his hands quietly.

“What’s going on with Mingyu?” you ask carefully.

The waiter comes by and wordlessly drops off two massive steaming bowls of phở. Neither of you pick up your spoons.

“It’s been six years,” he says, then stops. Then, “I don’t know why it’s so hard to say this.”

“Look, Wonu, whatever it is, you’re safe with me. Okay? I just want you both to be okay and if something is–wrong–between you both then let me help you.”

“Oh. No, nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why do you look like you’re going to have a heart atta–”

“I want to marry him.”

You stop abruptly. “Oh.”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” he says. “I think I’m ready to propose.”

“So you’re not fighting?”

“No.”

“And you’re not about to break up?”

“No. Of course not.”

Reaching across the table, you slap his arm ineffectually through his coat. “You bastard! I thought you were going to tell me something horrible that would destroy the group forever! I thought I was going to have to choose sides! I mean, obviously I’d choose you but that’s not the point! Don’t do that to me again!”

He laughs, finally snapping apart his chopsticks. “I’m sorry I scared you. It’s just a bit stressful for me.”

“So you thought you’d stress me out, too?!”

For a moment the two of you enjoy the fragrant broth and let your soup chase away the lingering cold. Then you ask, “This isn’t because of Jeonghan’s threat about booking a wedding before you guys, is it?”

Wonwoo snorts. “No. I’ve been thinking about asking Gyu for a while now.”

“So do you know how you’re going to ask?”

“I have some ideas.”

You wait, but he doesn’t continue. “You’ll tell me you’re going to propose but not how? Or when? Ugh!”

“Soon,” he says, drawing some noodles onto his spoon with practiced ease. “I’ve started carrying the ring around just in case the right moment strikes.”

“Carrying…like right now?”

He nods.

“Can I see? You’re not going to let me see it, are you?”

He shakes his head. “Gyu first.”

That’s fair, but it still makes you grumble. “So why’d you even tell me then?”

“Because you’re my friend,” is his simple response. “I wanted you to know. To tell me if I’m crazy.”

“Wonu, it’s been six years. You love him. It’s not crazy. If you’re ready then by all means…” You make a little shooing motion with your hands, flicking a bit of soup onto the table. “Oops.”

He chuckles as you wipe up the spill with a napkin.

“Seriously though. I want to be your best…person. Your person of honor. I want to be in the front row holding up a sign that says ‘I love you!’”

“You will get first pick of whatever job-slash-title you want,” he assures you. “Thank you, Bun.”

“Thank you for telling me first,” you cackle.

“About that…”

You suddenly know where he’s going. “Don’t tell Cheol? You just gave me the juiciest tidbit and I can’t tell my boyfriend?”

Wonwoo nods.

“I’m fine with that. Cheol sucks at keeping secrets.”

In all your chatting, your soup has cooled substantially. You start shoveling noodles into your mouth. For a few minutes there’s nothing but the sound of slurping and spoons hitting bowls.

Finally, Wonwoo sets his spoon down. “There’s something else.”

You can’t imagine that whatever he’s got left is as exciting as proposing, so you continue eating.

“How come you never told me you were getting evicted?”

The soup catches in your throat, making you cough. Hiding your face behind several napkins, you cough hard into your elbow. When you look up again, it’s with watery eyes. Wonwoo looks completely unsympathetic about it.

“Not evicted. She’s just not renewing my lease. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Wonwoo nods. “Okay. How come you didn’t tell me you needed help finding a new place?”

You can deal with a lot of things, but Wonwoo’s disappointment isn’t an easy burden to bear. Squirming in your chair, you reply, “It’s just…everyone is so busy this month. There’s the holidays and New Year’s, and Joshua Day is coming…”

Wonwoo snorts. “The only person who needs an entire month to plan Joshua Day is Jeonghan and that’s his job. You could have told me.”

“I was going to. Really. And then Cheol found out first.”

“All right. So what’s being done about it?”

You tell him about Rika and all the footwork you’ve done so far. And Hansol’s emergency offer. “I think I’ve got it covered, really.”

“If you need–”

Holding up your hand, you say, “Don’t offer. Mingyu would kill you if I showed up at your door.”

“He wouldn’t,” replies Wonwoo. “He’d kill you for not asking us to help earlier.”

That’s also true. 

Wonwoo pays for lunch with the excuse that he’s the one who invited you out. Given that you’re still anxious about moving, you let him without much fuss. You also let him give you a ride to Seungcheol’s place so that your boyfriend doesn’t have to come back out again. He’s beaten you home already.

When you’re close to the apartment, Wonwoo says, “Promise me that you’ll tell me when you need help in the future.”

“I don’t appreciate the ‘when’.”

“We all need help at some point,” he says calmly. “Promise me.”

“How about if you tell me how you’re going to propose first?”

“Bun.”

Sighing, you stick your pinky finger out. “Okay, I promise.”

He squeezes it quickly with his own, then puts both hands back on the wheel. “You know that’s binding, right?”

“I know how a promise works!”

He pulls right up to the sidewalk so you don’t have to step out in the slush. 

“Wonu, thanks for trusting me. I’m really excited for you.”

His soft laugh fills the car. “He has to say yes first.”

“He will.” You can’t imagine any scenario where Mingyu says no. Unless it’s him saying no so he can propose, because that’s a possibility. He’s that ridiculous.

You thank him for dinner before hurrying into Seungcheol’s building. Oddly enough, he’s not waiting for you when you let yourself in. Instead, Seungcheol is sitting on the couch, playing mindlessly with his phone.

When you call out to him, he responds with a distracted “hi, babe.” You’re starting to wonder if he’s upset with you about something. As you shake off your coat and hang it up, you try to think what that could be.

Nothing comes to mind.

“So,” you ask carefully. “How was your gym session with Mingyu?”

“Fine,” is his quick response. Too quick.

“Just fine?”

“Yep. How was dinner?”

“Fine,” you reply. “We had Vietnamese.”

“That place downtown?”

“Uhuh. It was really good.”

“Good.”

Seungcheol won’t make eye contact with you beyond a few glances here and there. Something is definitely up and you don’t have the patience for any more secrets today. Dropping down onto the sofa right beside him, you ask, “What did you guys talk about?”

“You know–guy stuff.”

“Oh, right. Guy stuff. Like the size of your biceps and who spends more time as the little spoon.”

Seungcheol shoots you a disdainful look. “Everyone likes to be the little spoon sometimes.”

“Mhm.” You rub his shoulders until he settles again. “You know what else everyone likes? Being let in on the secret.”

Seungcheol suddenly stands up. “I have to take a shower!”

Leaping up from the couch, you rush after him. “Choi Seungcheol, get back here!”

You catch him in the hallway, using your body to block the bathroom door. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t lie, you’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You showered at the gym. Your hair is wet.”

His hand flies up to his hair before he grimaces. “That’s sweat,” he tries, but you’re not falling for it.

“I’d smell it on you if that was true. What’s going on? I will call you Choi Seungcheol for the rest of your life.”

“Bun, no,” he pleads. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything. I can’t lie to you so please just don’t ask me.”

He looks so genuinely distressed that you almost think of leaving him alone, but this is a matter of life or death. Or Wonwoo’s happiness, which is the same thing.

“Does it involve Wonwoo?”

“Bun, please…let’s just not get involved.”

“Involved in what?” you press. “Is it bad? Is something wrong? Is Mingyu upset about something?”

Seungcheol is back to avoiding your gaze, so you press on.

“He’s not breaking up with Wonwoo is he?” you ask in a rush, feeling an uneasy pressure in your chest.

Seungcheol’s wide eyes snap back to yours. “No! Not at all. He’s going to–I mean–shit.”

“Going to what?” you demand. “Propose? Is Mingyu going to propose?”

Your boyfriend’s guilt-stricken expression tells you everything. So Mingyu called him out to tell him…

“Oh my God,” you say with a laugh. Covering your face, you giggle into your hands. 

“What?” he asks, voice going high with anxiety.

“Cheol, during my lunch with Wonwoo today, he said that he was going to propose.”

Seungcheol’s mouth drops open. “What should we do?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” asks Seungcheol. “Seriously?”

“Why would we do anything? They both clearly love each other and are ready for the next step. Why are we going to do anything at all? No matter who goes first, it’s good!”

“Are you sure?”

“All’s well that ends well,” you say decisively.

“What does that mean? Nothing’s ended yet!”

“It means it’ll be fine.” Patting his back, you return to the couch. After a moment, Seungcheol follows.

“Jeonghan is going to absolutely die if Mingyu and Wonwoo get married before he does.”

“That’s his fault,” you point out. “Joshua’s been ready for years.” You’re still not ready to leave the hill you’ve prepared to die on: that it’s all one big, long prank. Everyone else thinks you’re crazy, though, so you’ve stopped bringing it up. You even tried bribing Jeonghan to tell you and only you, but he just rolled his eyes at you.

Seungcheol is giving you another one of those glances. “What?” you prompt him. “More secrets?”

“Do you want to get married? Someday?”

Oh. Not what you were expecting, though you can’t say you’re that surprised. “To you?” you tease.

“Preferably!” he replies, with a tired expression. “But I also mean in general. We’ve never talked about it.”

From what you know about Seungcheol, you can guess where his feelings on the subject lie. It’s been a long time since you even thought about marriage. Too many failed relationships and shitty dates pushed that option far, far down the line. But with Seungcheol, it’s starting to seem like a possibility again.

You could see yourself standing across from him at the end of the aisle. At some point in the distant future, though. There’s too much you want to do, to…fix before then.

You’ve been thinking too long. It’s obvious from the way his knee is starting to jog up and down. Placing your hand on his leg, you say, “Yes. I think it would be nice to get married someday.”

He breathes out a sigh. “Okay, good.”

“Is that a dealbreaker?” you ask curiously.

“Kind of. Is that weird?”

Squeezing his leg, you lean over to kiss his cheek. “No, Cheol. Not weird. I like that you’re a romantic.”

“I’m also tough and manly.”

The pout really sells it, you think.

Sliding yourself onto his lap, you curl your arms behind his neck. “It’s not that I don’t believe you but…maybe you could show me just how tough and manly you are.”

His hand trails across your lower back, pressing your hips down closer to him. You gasp at the sudden contact.

There’s a gleam in his eyes that you recognize. “Are you sure you can handle it, baby?”

“Yeah,” you breathe back. “I can take whatever you’ve got.”

Lifting you so suddenly, so smoothly that it makes you cry out, Seungcheol says, “Let’s find out.”

You call out sick the next day. So does Seungcheol.

The following weekend, Mingyu wrangles everyone into a “winter-themed day.” You all show up at Joshua and Jeonghan’s place, wrapped up in thick coats, just to find out that Mingyu wants to go to the downtown outdoor ice skating rink and the new Christmas market.

“That’s going to be packed,” Seungcheol points out. The rink is a newer tourist trap, but a trap nonetheless. It’s always filled, especially on the weekend. The market is only going to make that worse.

“Where’s your sense of wonder?” asks Mingyu. More like snaps it. He’s irritable today, ready to fight anyone who doesn’t like his suggestions.

Seungcheol raises his hands. “Fine, just saying. I’m not great on ice.”

“Didn’t you play hockey in high school?” asks Jeonghan.

“Field hockey. There’s a big difference.”

“Just as long as you can keep me from breaking my tailbone,” you tell him with a grimace, remembering your last ill-fated ice skating attempt. You were seven. You didn’t know how to stop and you skated straight into the wall. Everyone laughed.

Jeonghan knows the story and he’s laughing now just thinking about it. You flip him off.

Mingyu has refused to settle, standing by the door the entire time in his coat and shoes. “Are we going soon?” he presses.

“Almost done!” calls Joshua. He’s rejected two outfits already, but finally he comes out, smoothing a few perfect strands of his hair.

“Or we could stay warm at home and make the chefs cook for us,” suggests Jeonghan in a way that’s only half-joking.

But Mingyu immediately blurts out,“We have to go!”

You and Seungcheol trade a look. Oh. So it’s today.

Realizing that everyone is focused on him, Mingyu says, quieter, “Where’s your holiday spirit?”

You’ve never had much of that and they all know it, but you’re happy to go along with them. Pretty lights and yummy snacks are a good draw, regardless of the occasion. Plus now you have the added bonus of seeing which of your friends is going to propose first.

“Mingyu,” says Seungcheol, as you climb into his car. “He’s desperate for it.”

“That’s the problem,” you argue, clicking your seatbelt into place. “He’s going to be too obsessed with making it perfect and miss his window of opportunity. Also, I gotta back my guy.”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “Your guy. I’m your guy. But fine, you want to bet on this?”

“$50.”

“Bun, you’re trying to rent a new apartment.”

“That’s how serious I am!”

“I’m not taking your $50.”

“Fine,” you say, settling deeper into your seat. “I’ll take yours.”

The two of you share a laugh. You feel a little giddy at the thought of your friends potentially getting engaged today. You’re going to be on the lookout for every possible moment.

So are they.  Mingyu pushes through the crowds around the skating rink like a man possessed.

“The line is so long,” complains Jeonghan. “Do we really have to do this?”

“Yes.”

The six of you gather in line, dancing back and forth in the cold. Seungcheol wraps you into his coat.

“Our Bun is being very quiet today,” observes Joshua. “Shouldn’t you be complaining about this, too?”

“I don’t mind it today. I guess I’m just in the winter mood,” you reply.

Seungcheol quietly squeezes your waist and you grin. Everyone watches you curiously, except Mingyu, who is using his height to his advantage, peering over heads like an anxious meerkat. Wonwoo also looks unusually stern today, frowning at the crowds around him.

They’re going to make everyone miserable trying to create a perfect moment.

An hour goes by and you barely inch forward in line. By this point you’re all freezing and becoming increasingly fed up.

“It has to move soon,” Mingyu pleads, possibly with some higher power in the universe. 

Wonwoo gently rests a gloved hand on Mingyu’s arm. “Why don’t we look at the market instead? We can try ice skating again later.”

Since he’s the only person Mingyu can’t yell at, you’re all relieved when Wonwoo tugs his boyfriend out of line. You all stumble after them on frozen legs, like little ice ducklings. 

The market is also packed, but there’s food. And more importantly, hot drinks. Cider, mulled wine, hot chocolate. Everything is grossly overpriced but your chilled hands don’t care how much comfort costs.

Jeonghan places a paper cup into them and you sip gratefully at the hot chocolate, which is clearly powdered mix and water. Still, the diluted sweetness warms your chest.

The stalls are done up festively in reds and greens; some in silvers and blues; and even others in bright gold and white. Everywhere you look there’s something beautiful to see; there are also people.

You see Mingyu glance around, his hand dipping into his coat pocket. Then a group of tourists go by, nearly knocking into him. He avoids them, hand protecting his pocket the entire time.

You almost feel bad for him. He wants magic so badly.

“Can we help him somehow?” you ask Seungcheol.

“I doubt it. He’s trying too hard. Wonwoo doesn’t even like crowds.”

You know this. Everyone knows this.

Mingyu knows it, too. He seems to finally remember it, because, finally, he slips his hand free and goes over to where Wonwoo is looking at handmade ornaments. You see his shoulders relax as he curls his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.

You and Seungcheol both sigh in relief. Not today. It’s a bit disappointing, but you also want their moment to be right for them.

The six of you wander around looking at stalls. Joshua buys Jeonghan a thick knitted scarf that makes his face disappear when it’s wrapped around his thin neck. You all get a good laugh out of that, but Jeonghan just burrows deeper into it and refuses to take it off.

Mingyu and Wonwoo walk hand in hand. You and Seungcheol follow behind them like little mimics, with you smiling at them more than enjoying the market. You love your friends.

“Now can we go home and have something warm and delicious?” asks Jeonghan, after you’ve wandered for an hour.

“Yeah, let’s go,” agrees Minygu. “You want pasta?”

“I want whatever I don’t have to make.”

The two of them argue about what to eat as you pass through a quiet park. The bushes are dusted with snow, making the greens even brighter. Tiny birds flitter around trying to keep their compact bodies warm.

Wonwoo slips his hand out of Mingyu’s to adjust his coat; you and Seungcheol pass him by.

Then Wonwoo’s soft voice calls out Mingyu’s name. You turn reflexively to see what’s going on, only to see Wonwoo down on one knee. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth. Next to you, Seungcheol makes a small, excited sound.

It’s a beautiful choice. The winter park, the twittering birds, the bright white sky. All of you, together.

“No!” shouts Mingyu, surprising everyone. Shoving his hand into his pocket, he fumbles around. “You aren’t doing this to me, not after I’ve practiced so many times!”

Pulling something free, he drops onto one knee as well. “Put yours back!”

“I was here first,” protests Wonwoo.

Both men are now on their knees on the icy ground, neither one willing to concede. When you glance over to your friends, you find Jeonghan watching them both with an amused expression. Joshua is recording on his phone.

“Guys,” you plead. “It’s cold. How about you both give each other your speeches and exchange rings?”

“You’re supposed to be surprised,” accuses Mingyu, turning his furious attention on you. “Why aren’t you surprised?”

“Well…”

“I told her,” says Wonwoo. He’s never been particularly robust and the cold is starting to get to him; he shifts in place, trying to warm his ears by ducking his neck lower into his coat. “I needed to get her opinion.”

“And Mingyu told me,” says Seungcheol, holding up his hand. “We’ve been trying not to say anything for the last week.”

Jeonghan uncrosses his arms. “Hang on, and no one told me?”

“You can’t keep a secret,” choruses everyone, including Joshua.

“Rude.”

Wonwoo is starting to tremble. 

“Mingyu,” you press, jerking your head towards his freezing partner.

“Fine! Go on then,” he says to Wonwoo.

For a moment, Wonwoo looks perplexed. Then, he smiles. “I didn’t practice,” he admits shyly.

“Then put your ring away and I’ll go!”

“No. No, I want to go first. You’re the brave one, the outspoken one. Every time I’m nervous, you take charge. I’m older, but you look after me. I know I’m not always the loudest or the boldest person, but my love for you is so loud. I feel like it’s going to explode out of me sometimes…”

It’s the most you’ve ever heard Wonwoo say in one go. You’re afraid to breathe in case you disrupt the moment.

Then Wonwoo shivers. “It’s cold. I’m forgetting everything…”

“Good enough! My turn,” asserts Mingyu. “I look after you because I want to, and because you make me feel stronger. You’re reliable, and…”

Wonwoo is shivering hard now. His pants are probably wet from where he’s kneeling in the snow.

“...and…oh, fuck it.” Reaching out, Mingyu grabs the collar of Wonwoo’s coat and drags him into a clumsy kiss. “I love you. Yes, I wanna marry you.”

“G-good,” says Wonwoo. “I want to marry you, too.”

“Obviously.”

You all cheer as the two men stagger to their feet. Mingyu rubs at Wonwoo’s arms, trying to generate some heat. He looks terribly pale.

“What were you thinking, trying to propose in the cold?” snaps Mingyu. “You’re too delicate for this!”

“You like it,” Wonwoo says simply.

You find a hot pack tucked deep in your coat pocket. Squeezing it hard, you feel it crack and start to warm. You rush it over to Wonwoo and he holds it close to his chest.

“T-thanks, Bun.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think of it sooner.”

Seungcheol’s ringtone goes off. He glances at the screen and then answers.

“Forget the pasta,” says Mingyu. “You’re getting soup.”

“I can help,” you say, but Seungcheol motions you over.

“It’s Rika,” he explains. “She found a place but we have to go now.”

You don’t want to go now. Not when Wonwoo and Mingyu have just gotten engaged and everyone’s together. But you desperately need a place to live.

“We’ll go quickly and come back,” says Seungcheol. “It’s within your price range.”

You discover why almost immediately. After saying goodbye to your friends and promising to return as soon as possible, Seungcheol types the address into his phone. The two of you drive. And drive.

“Does she want to murder us?” you venture, after you’ve driven almost completely out of the city. A few more streets over and you’ll be in a new county entirely.

“I think we’re here.”

The building is nice at least. A little on the older side, but still with modern amenities. Rika meets you at the front.

“Good, you found it.”

“Rushed over as fast as we could. Thanks for this,” says Seungcheol.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” she replies, unlocking the main entryway into the building. You wonder how many times a day she says that to clients.

Your potential new apartment is on the fifth floor, the fifth of six. You’ve never lived in a building with a locked entryway or an elevator. The elevator is clean, too, and doesn’t squeal or shake.

“And this is in my budget?” you confirm with her.

Rika nods, showing you her perfectly white teeth. “Nice, right? A little old, but everything works well still.”

The hallway is quiet. She leads you to the unit and opens it up. The smell of stale air greets you: no one has been in the unit for a while.

Rika starts listing off details, but you’re not listening. Instead, you’re taking in the space, noting the odd yellow cream paint in the kitchen, which clashes with the black and white tiled backsplash. There are so many windows in the living room, tall and narrow in a way that makes you wonder where you’ll find curtains. They make you feel overly exposed.

“Bun!” calls Seungcheol. “The heating and A/C is new.”

“Cool,” you say faintly. You’re trying to find yourself in the middle of this big empty space and failing.

“Oh, it also comes with the fridge. That’s a relief. And there’s a washer, but no dryer. We can fix that, though.”

“Maybe,” says Rika. “There might be an electrical issue with having too many large appliances. After all–”

It’s old, you think. Old doesn’t bother you. Appliances don’t bother you. The weird gaping hole in your chest is commanding all of your attention right now. You’re running out of time. This is essentially your last viable option, unless you want to dump everything in storage and crash on Hansol’s couch for a month or two.

Seungcheol comes up beside you to look out the windows. “What do you think of this one?”

Faintly, you say, “It’s a little far.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But we both have cars and it’s the same distance from your job.”

You don’t like that he’s being the practical one this time. He’s the one who’s supposed to whine about the distance while you reassure him it’s going to be fine.

You try to imagine yourself looking out these windows, but you can’t. It’s like an entirely new city from here. One you’ll be on the edge of.

You think you’re going to cry.

Seungcheol sees you barely holding yourself together and turns to Rika, who’s studying a thin line of maybe-maybe-not mold near the baseboards.

“Can we have a moment, please?”

“Hm? Oh, of course.” You hear her footsteps fade. The front door shuts.

Seungcheol turns to you immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just so…

“I know there’s a few things to fix but the guys can help us with that, and it won’t take long to move with the six of us and–”

“Lonely,” you realize. You don’t want to come home to this new place. You don’t want to be even a second further away from Seungcheol and all your friends. Most of all, you don’t want to live alone anymore.

Living alone after the way you grew up has been a kind of freedom you pined for, fought for, and then cherished. And you’ve built yourself a very happy life in your apartment, bit by bit. But now, choosing to live alone feels like a self-inflicted punishment that you don’t think you deserve.

But you don’t know how to ask for what you want when you already refused it once.

The apartment is so cold; a shiver wracks your body and you move closer to Seungcheol reflexively, seeking his warmth. He wraps his arms around you without hesitation.

“I know I said I wasn’t going to bring it up again,” he murmurs into your hair, “but the offer still stands for you to move in with me.”

It seems too precious that he’d offer you this now. Even if he’s just trying to be nice, even if it’s just something to say, you’re tired of telling him no.

“I want to,” you whisper back.

Seungcheol immediately straightens, holding you at arm’s length so he can see you properly. “What was that? Are you being serious?”

You nod. “I…I don’t want to live out here. This isn’t somewhere I’m comfortable and I realized tonight that the place I’ve been most comfortable in lately is yours. With you.”

When you venture a glance at him, his expression is filled with warmth. He grins at you and you return it.

“Okay,” he says, practically vibrating with excitement. “Okay!”

“Cheol, you have to be very sure. I don’t want–”

He’s already pulled out his phone and is tapping furiously at the screen.

Cheollie: Whatever plans you have tomorrow cancel them

Cheollie: We’re moving Bun’s stuff

Joshua: So the place worked out?

Cheollie: into my place

Wonwoo: What?

Cheol: Bun is moving in with me

Jeonghan: Knew it 💅

You: You did not

Jeonghan: Want to bet? 😏

Mingyu: YOU GUYS COULDN’T EVEN WAIT 24 HOURS

Mingyu: I GOT ENGAGED TODAY

Mingyu: NOW IT’S YOUR MOVE IN ANNIVERSARY

You: Technically it’s tomorrow… 🫣

Mingyu: i’m deleting this entire thread and pretending it never happened

Mingyu: and tomorrow you will tell me for the FIRST TIME

You: okay…can i tell you tomorrow in person? At my old apartment? Around 10 am?

Mingyu: tell me with coffee

Joshua: I’ll bring breakfast

Wonwoo: I’ll bring boxes

You: Thank you guys!! 🙇

Mingyu: DELETING NOW

Wonwoo: Congrats you two 🙂

Mingyu: DON’T YOU START

You and Seungcheol share a giggle. 

“We’re really doing this,” he says, and the joy in his tone eases some of your anxiety.

Rika pokes her head back into the apartment. “Can I come back in now? It’s cold in the hallway.”

“Oh my God, yes, I’m so sorry!”

She moves back into the apartment, rubbing at her arms. “Not much warmer in here. What’s the final decision?”

“Um, I know you’ve put in a lot of effort on my behalf…”

She grins at you. “But you’re moving in together instead?” Seeing your look of shock, she continues, “Could read it on you two instantly. Congratulations.”

“I didn’t mean to use up your time…”

Jerking her thumb over at Seungcheol, who hasn’t stopped beaming, Rika says, “He pays me the same.”

You throw one final look back at the apartment as everyone heads for the door. Try to imagine yourself here with the tall, oddly-narrow windows and this new view; making meals in the pastel yellow kitchen; squeezing your old rug onto the scuffed wood floors.

It will make a decent home, but not for you. 

“Bun?” Seungcheol is waiting by the door, expression calm. The tension in his brows gives him away though.

You slip your hand in his, squeezing once. “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

Once you’re back on the street, you apologize to Rika again.

“All’s well that ends well,” she says wisely.

“Why do I keep hearing that?” asks Seungcheol.

“It’s a good saying.”

“I guess. Send me your invoice tonight?”

“Already sent,” she says. With a wave, she heads up the street towards her Mercedes.

Feeling a little queasy, you ask Seungcheol, “No way you’ll show me that invoice, huh?”

“Nope,” is his cheerful response. “If we hurry, we can get pastries and watch that baking show you like.”

He’s already moving towards the car at a pace that makes you scurry to catch up to him. “You don’t even care about it.”

“I care about you. That’s all that matters. Besides, it’s growing on me.”

“What about the guys?”

“We’ll see them tomorrow. We should give your apartment a good send off first.”

When he catches you staring at him, he says, “What? It’s been your home for a long time. We should say goodbye properly.”

The words “I love you” jump to the tip of your tongue; just in time, you swallow them back. “That’s perfect,” you say instead. “Thank you, Cheol.”

None of your friends are surprised to hear that you’re not going to rejoin them downtown. You feel bad taking up one of their precious Sundays just before the holidays, but with so many hands you can move your things in one go, leaving the rest of the month for you to clean and repair any damage. Seems silly, since it’s all probably going to be torn down, but you don’t like leaving things undone.

You pick up takeout on the way home, even though you have food in your fridge that you should be eating to make tomorrow easier. It’s not a big deal; you’ll just move it into Seungcheol’s.

A shared fridge. A shared bed. A shared home. 

The thought is as terrifying as it is exciting. You nearly miss your mouth with your spoon. Setting it down on the coffee table, you turn towards your boyfriend.

“Is this stupid?” you ask him. “Is this too soon?”

“No.”

“What if you’re excited now but when I’m all up in your space you regret it?” 

“I won’t.”

“But what if–?”

“Bun. Listen to me. If things don’t work out between us, I will never kick you out. Even if you make me furious. I will help you find a new place, but I will never leave you with nowhere to go. Okay?”

Blinking back tears, you nod. “Okay.”

He pulls you into his chest, large hand rubbing your back. “It’s going to be great. You’ll see.”

It seems impossible to have someone in your life who wants you badly enough to share their home with you; it seems even more insane for that person to be Seungcheol. But you breathe in the scent of winter from his clothes and hair, letting it soothe you.

After a moment, you giggle.

“What?”

“Just thinking…that silly camping trip. If I’d been even 5% more prepared or less stubborn, none of this would have happened.”

Seungcheol chuckles, then kisses your forehead. “Thank goodness you’re exactly the way you are.”

In this moment, a small part of you–a small, precious part–is healed.

Everyone shows up by 10:00 a.m. the next day. Joshua’s made bagel sandwiches, the cheese still melty and the egg soft and warm. For the first few minutes, no one does any packing, too busy shoving sandwiches into their mouths.

Except Jeonghan, who disappears after saying he’s going to be the first to find all your sex toys. Through a mouthful of ham and cheese, you call out, “They’re already at Cheollie’s! Amateur!”

He still finds plenty to tease you about to the point that you relegate him to packing up the pantry, because it’s the safest option. It seems bizarre to you that years worth of your life can be packed away so quickly, but there’s also a lot you aren’t bringing.

The old college couch has to go, as does the worn rug and your dining table too tiny even for two. While Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Joshua, and you bring your boxes over to Seungcheol’s place, Mingyu and Seungcheol coordinate hauling your furniture out for donation.

By 6:00 p.m., you and Seungcheol are alone in his living room, surrounded by boxes. You tried to get the others to stay with the promise of free food (out of your wallet and with immense gratitude), but they begged off in the hope of showers and rest. You’ll make it up to each of them later in your own way.

You place Whisper down on the coffee table, moving it a little to one side, then the other. It’s dark now and you can’t remember where the sun hits the room the best. Still, the little plant looks content in its new surroundings.

Seungcheol sets the last box in the kitchen (“You need an entire box for your mugs?”) before exhaling. “That’s it.”

Even with so much stuff donated or tossed, there’s still a lot to unpack. The boxes look clumsy and ugly against the stark backdrop of Seungcheol’s apartment. 

“Regretting this yet?” you ask timidly.

“Not even a little bit,” he replies. “Where do you want to start?”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I’m more excited about this being our place now. I want to hurry up and make it that way.” 

He yanks open the mug box and starts lining them up along the counter. He’s been going nonstop since he woke up this morning, almost like if he lets you rest for a moment you might change your mind. A feeling of deep affection fills you as you watch him, like being wrapped up in a soft blanket.

Three months ago you would have called yourself crazy, delusional. But now…

“Baby, where do you want your cherry mug to g–oh, hello.”

Nuzzling into his chest, you tighten your grip around his body. “I can think of a better way to make this place ours.”

Before he can speak, you press your lips to his. He hesitates. 

“Baby,” he protests, “I’m still sweaty from all the heavy lifting today.”

So are you. And maybe it’s all the dopamine in your bloodstream right now, but you want him too badly to care. “Okay. So we start with the shower.”

His free hand quickly cups the back of your head, tilting you just enough for him to kiss you deeper. “I really don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“Me either,” you tease. “But if you don’t make love to me now, I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

He lifts you easily; you wrap your legs around his waist for support as you lean in to kiss him. Hard.

“Fuck, I love you.”

For a moment everything goes quiet around you. His warm hands are burning into your backside as he holds you steady. There’s fear in his eyes, but also affection. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Was that too much? It was too much.”

You caress the nape of his neck, feeling the small hairs there. “It was just right. I love you, too, Cheol.”

“I meant for this to be different. Better.”

Nipping at his lower lip, you say, “So then make it better.”

He carries you into the bathroom, practically slamming the door against the wall in his haste to push it open. “Hey,” you joke, “don’t go damaging our home already.”

“Say that again.”

For a second you’re puzzled, then you smile, feeling suddenly shy. “Our home.”

“Ours,” he repeats, pressing your back into the wall.

He makes it better.

You end up taking two showers before falling asleep deliciously sore in each other’s arms. The next morning dawns cold and sunny, the light streaming in through the curtains you both failed to properly close.

Seungcheol groans as you roll over him, splaying your body weight across his back. “Just ignore it and go to sleep.”

“We have a lot of unpacking to do.”

“You do it.”

“What happened to all your enthusiasm from yesterday?” you ask.

“I showed it to you. Multiple times.”

“Mm…” Tracing invisible lines across his skin, you say, “Maybe you can show me again.”

Seungcheol lifts his head up to peer at you. “Right now?”

“Why not? What else do we have to do today? We’re on vacation, remember?”

He considers it for a moment before shaking you gently off and pulling the blanket up. Okay, so he’s very tired. But you like teasing him, so you nuzzle his neck, kissing the shell of his ear. One hand trails across his torso and down his hip before slipping under the band of his sweatpants.

“Bun,” he huffs.

“Mhm.”

“You’re a brat.”

Squeezing him gently, feeling him start to wake in your hand, you taunt him. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His hand catches yours, tugging it out of his sweats before he rolls over you, pinning you to the mattress. “I’m going to make sure you aren’t going to want to leave this bed today.”

You like the sound of that so you grin up at him, pressing your knee into his crotch. He hisses at the pressure.

The sound of the intercom chime echoes from the living room. Seungcheol groans.

“Go check.”

“It’s too early for someone to be here.”

“Just go check the intercom,” you tell him, nudging him again with your knee. You love that you can say that. It’s so much cooler than having to look through a peep hole.

“Or you could go.”

“It’s your–” You pause, seeing his smile.

“What was that? Do you mean our place?”

Pushing a pillow into his chest, you say, “Shut up and go.”

It’s probably one of the guys come to wreck your peaceful morning. If Cheol knows what’s good for him, he’ll send them away immediately. You’re more than ready to pick up where you left off.

Seungcheol’s startled voice carries all the way back to the bedroom. “Eomma?!”

Your heart leaps into your throat. Chucking off the blankets, you run for the closet, grabbing at the first thing you see. You haven’t even started unpacking your clothes so you end up with one of Seungcheol’s t-shirts. Yanking it on, you feel around for your pajama bottoms, which have gotten tangled up in the sheets after last night’s activities.

“Where’s my daughter?”

You can hear Seungcheol’s footsteps as he rushes after her. “Eomma, we’re not married.”

“Technicality!”

You stumble out of the bedroom, brushing your hair back behind your ears. “I’m here, I’m–hi, Mrs. Choi. It’s really good to s–”

A choked sound escapes you as you’re snatched up into a fierce hug. Mrs. Choi smells like Tatcha face cream and expensive perfume; you fight the urge to check your breath.

“Don’t suffocate her,” scolds Seungcheol, though it comes out sounding weak.

She pushes you back, holding you at arm’s length. You know you look a mess and you’re about to apologize for it when she says, “Oh, don’t worry. I know I barged in here first thing. I’d be more concerned if you were ready for me.”

Looking around the apartment, she says, “You really are living together. I never thought I’d see a plant in here. At least not alive.”

You’re not sure if she’s happy about it.

“Oh, yes, um, it…”

“Was a mutual decision,” says Seungcheol.

Throwing him a grateful smile, you nod. Mrs. Choi looks pointedly at your stomach.

Covering it with your hands, you blurt out, “No–I’m not–!”

She sighs, either in disappointment or relief, you really can’t tell. “If you are, you have to tell me first. Don’t even tell Seungcheol–you come to me.”

“Eomma,” warns Seungcheol, his soft voice taking on an edge. “She’s going to tell me first.”

“We’ll see.”

Eager to make yourself sound less like an idiot in front of Seungcheol’s wonderfully overwhelming mother, you ask, “Mrs. Choi, can I make you something to eat? We haven’t had breakfast yet and it would be great if you’d join us.”

She shakes the bag she’s holding. “I brought you green onion kimchi, let’s make something to go with it.”

Heading straight into the kitchen, she starts scraping the leftover rice out of the rice cooker. “Now I know you have someone else living here!” she calls. “It’s not instant!”

Seungcheol throws you a pleading look and you have to fight not to laugh. No way are you going to kick his mom out, so he hovers behind first a chair, then the island, hands stretching his pockets out to cover up his flagging boner.

Your box of mugs is still on the counter from yesterday, when you interrupted Seungcheol’s efforts to find them a home. Mrs. Choi starts looking through them, cooing over your hand-painted ceramic gingko mug, then laughing at one emblazoned with chickens.

“I’m going to use this one,” she declares, setting it on the counter.

She can use any of the mugs she wants, as long as she decides she likes you. You’re still very aware that you’ve got bedhead and a highly visible hickey on your neck.

“I can make kalguksu,” you offer, since there are noodles in the freezer. Leftovers from your old apartment.

Mrs. Choi nods her approval and you pull a cutting board.

“What can I do?” whines Seungcheol.

“Stand there and look pretty,” replies his mother. It’s enough to make you stifle a laugh, because it’s exactly what you wanted to say. Leaning closer to you, she adds, “I’m not against men cooking for me, but Seungcheol needs more practice. I want to enjoy my breakfast today.”

“We’re working on it,” you tell her. “He’s gotten a lot better.”

Seungcheol hovers behind your shoulder. “I want to help.”

You assumed as much. He cuts about as quickly as a snail moves, so you give him the job of finding and frying some frozen dumplings.

“You trust him with hot oil?” asks Mrs. Choi. 

“Air fryer,” you whisper back and she nods her understanding.

“I can hear you both,” he complains, but he starts filling up the air fryer anyway.

While you work on the broth, Mrs. Choi whips up some crispy jeon with the rest of the zucchini you’re not using in the soup. She flips each pancake effortlessly, much to your amazement. While it’s awesome to see someone else who cooks well, it also makes your stress that much higher. You have to impress her.

You offer her a taste of the soup. After a moment, she nods. “She’s the one,” she tells Seungcheol.

Her praise puts a stupid grin on your face. Seungcheol comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I already knew that, Eomma.”

He goes to find a shirt while you and his mom plate everything up. She settles at the table with hot tea steaming from your chicken print mug.

You’re relieved when Seungcheol serves her first. It’s only after he’s filled her bowl that he reaches for yours.

“Is he just showing off?” asks Mrs. Choi.

“Not at all. You raised a gentleman,” you tell her.

Seungcheol is so busy preening that he nearly dumps the next ladle of soup onto the table. The kalguksu is warming and comforting, the noodles thick with savory broth. You alternate bites of noodles with Mrs. Choi’s bright, spicy green onion kimchi. It’s a delicious combination. For a moment no one speaks, too busy enjoying breakfast.

Seungcheol reaches out for one of the jeon, crunching down on it enthusiastically. Then he looks sadly into the near empty pot in the center of the table. “Is there more soup?”

“Sorry, babe. I can make you more later.”

“You inhaled that,” observes Mrs. Choi. She and you are working your way through the soup like normal people.

“I can’t help it,” says Seungcheol, comforting himself with more jeon. “Bun’s an incredible cook. No one cooks like sh…uh…” The jeon rests heavily between his chopsticks as he blanches.

“No, no,” says his mother with an evil smirk. “I see how it is. Shame your mother in front of your girlfriend. I take it Bun feeds you often.”

Hoping to defend Seungcheol, or at least claw him out of the hole he’s digging a little, you say, “We trade off. He made me samgyetang when I was sick last month.”

“Yeah, and then Joshua made it properly,” he says miserably.

You rest your hand on his wrist. “You just need more practice, sweetheart. And to follow the recipe.”

“You don’t follow a recipe. Eomma doesn’t, either.”

“Yeah…because we know what we’re doing.”

He scoffs before stealing a spoonful of broth out of your bowl. You let him.

Mrs. Choi is watching the two of you with an amused expression. “I was wondering why Seungcheol bowed out of the family vacation this year, but I see now. If this is the treatment he’s getting at home…”

Seungcheol shoots his mom a sharp look, but it’s too late. 

You frown at him.“You canceled because of me?”

“You’re my family, too,” he says defensively. “I wanted to spend the holidays with you.”

“I…” You give Mrs. Choi a terrified, apologetic look.

Taking a slightly burnt dumpling, she says to you, “Next year you’ll come with us.” 

To Seungcheol, she adds, “You have a lifetime to spend together. Family vacations are required.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “When Seungmin and I moved out, you and Appa couldn’t wait to travel without us.”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of my broken heart.”

“I think that sounds great,” you say quickly. “I’d love to go on a family vacation. I’ve never…really done that before.”

“Well! As my daughter–”

“Eomma…”

“--you can stick close to me and I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

“I guess I just don’t matter anymore,” says Seungcheol, but his pout is ruined by the smile that keeps threatening the corners of his mouth.

You like that Mrs. Choi is easy to talk to. The two of you keep up a warm, rapid conversation through the rest of breakfast and while Seungcheol is washing dishes. She knows exactly what she interrupted but she doesn’t harass you too much about it beyond, “I hope I didn’t spoil your morning too much. I wanted to stop by before we head to Italy.”

“Italy?” Turning to Seungcheol you ask, “You gave up Italy for me?”

“So?” he replies, setting the last dish into the rack and wiping his hands. “It’s not going anywhere.”

There’s nothing in his demeanor that suggests he regrets it in the slightest. You think you might cry.

Mrs. Choi pats your wrist. “I’m glad you found each other.”

“Me too,” you say thickly. You can’t think of anyone else who’d give up a vacation like that for you.

“We’ll be back on the second,” she says as she pulls her coat back on. “I expect another demonstration of your quality cooking.”

“Anything you’d like,” you assure her.

“Ooh, you’re going to regret that,” she teases. Kissing Seungcheol’s cheek, she adds, “Be good and be good to her. See you in a few weeks.”

“Eomma saranghaeyo.”

The door has barely closed when Seungcheol whirls around. “I am so sorry, Bun.”

“Why? Your eomma is great.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Although I hope she actually likes me as much as she seemed to.”

“Trust me, she adores you. She’s liked you ever since she met you last year.”

You rub your stomach a little nervously. “She seemed sure I was pregnant though.”

He laughs. “Wishful thinking. She wants grandchildren. Girls. She’s never forgiven Appa for two boys.”

“Oh cool, so no pressure.”

“Don’t worry, if we have boys, she’ll just blame me.”

“How many kids is she expecting us to have?” you ask, more overwhelmed by the thought of Seungcheol’s mother’s expectations than the concept of having kids with him.

“Don’t ask her that question. You won’t like the answer.”

Mrs. Choi doesn’t seem like the kind of mother-in-law to push, or at least not too much. Which is a relief, because you don’t think you can handle another major life change so soon. You’re already living with a partner; no one can expect more from you for a while

Seungcheol picks up on your anxiety.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I’m talking like everything’s set in stone. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not that uncomfortable,” you reply. “I’m not. Marriage, kids–I’m not against any of it. Just let me get used to this first.”

“As long as you need.”

“Forty years.”

“Bun.” Giving you a deadpan look he says, “At our current trajectory we’re going to be married by this time next year.”

He’s honestly right. “Don’t you dare propose to me at a Christmas market.”

“Swear on my life I won’t.”

“What if I propose to you?” you ask curiously, unable to resist.

Another look. “Don’t. That’s my job.”

“What if I make it really, really good?”

“How?”

“I can’t tell you, silly.”

Catching you around the waist, he pulls you into his firm body. “We’re going back to bed.”

“Are you going to propose to me in bed? Because I have thoughts on that, too.”

“You have thoughts about everything,” he comments. “But no. First, I’m going to tire you out. And then we’re going back to sleep.”

Your friends send messages to group chat several times, but neither of you answer.

Since your friends are traveling, you and Seungcheol spend a peaceful Christmas together. You make him hot chocolate from scratch, the kind you remember having as a kid. He adds so many mini marshmallows on top that they melt into a gooey seal that causes him to burn his mouth once the molten liquid breaks through. For a full twenty-four sad, whiny hours you can’t even kiss him.

“You could be in Italy right now,” you remind him.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes as he rubs an ice cube over his lips. “Yeah, listening to my dad and brother argue. I’m much happier here with you.”

You don’t ask for it, but Seungcheol buys a tiny tree and decorates it terribly. You give him a Lego Ferrari set that costs more of your paycheck than you want to admit, but since your monthly rent is significantly lower now, he more than deserves it. Plus, his excited gasp and childlike expression make it worth every cent.

Seungcheol gives you a beautiful wool coat in a deep forest green. It’s a perfect replacement for your current winter coat, which is starting to wear at the elbows. You try it on immediately, enjoying the way it sits on your body. From the warmth of his gaze, Seungcheol likes the way it looks on you, too.

“Now you can get rid of Mingyu’s stupid coat,” he tells you.

“Nu uh. That stays forever. It was a gift from a friend.”

“Bun!”

Your laughter fills the living room.

Seungcheol tears into the Lego set as soon as dinner is over. For several hours you don’t hear a peep out of your boyfriend, minus a few grumbles as he looks through the booklet and searches for pieces. When he’s done, he holds up the rather impressive F1 car he’s built.

“That’s pretty cool, actually,” you admit.

“It’s amazing. Mingyu’s going to be insanely jealous.”

“Is that your only goal in life? Beating Mingyu at stuff?”

“It’s a main one, yeah,” he says with a chuckle. “My other goal is spoiling my girlfriend.”

“Hmm…lucky her.”

He sets the car down at a safe distance before holding his arms out to you. You settle into his lap, enjoying his warmth.

“If it was up to me, I’d buy you dozens of presents.”

“That’s just stuff. I don’t need stuff.”

He waits, but you give him a quizzical look.

“You’re supposed to say something like ‘you’re the best present’.”

His earnest expression makes you burst out laughing. “Oh, Cheol! When have I ever said something that cheesy?”

“It’s almost the new year,” he mumbles. “You could start now.”

“Okay,” you say, still laughing. “Choi Seungcheol, you’re…the best…”

“Get off my lap.” He tries to push you onto the floor but you link your hands behind his neck and refuse to move.

When he finally gives up, you kiss his nose, since his lips are still tender from his earlier showdown with the hot chocolate. “You know I love you, right?”

This mollifies him instantly. He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck. “You can always tell me. As many times as possible.”

“New Year’s resolution.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

The best December holiday, by far, is Joshua Day. It’s been going strong since college, when your friend group found a way to bridge the gap between Christmas and New Year’s by declaring Joshua’s birthday a whole holiday unto itself. Recognizing the unfairness that comes with having a birthday at the end of the year, you all set out to give Joshua the best birthday ever each year.

In college, that involved getting banned from a restaurant one year, and almost having to spend Joshua’s birthday in the emergency room the next, after Mingyu got accidentally shoved into a freezing pond. As you’ve all entered true adulthood, you’ve found more mature ways of celebrating Joshua Day.

This year Jeonghan has rented out an entire movie theater. Granted, it’s a small local theater with only one screen, but it still feels special. Ordering buttered popcorn while wearing a fine dress has the right balance of charm and decadence that you’ve needed so desperately this month. Also, since Jeonghan has pre-paid for the venue and the food, you can have as many refills as you want without essentially lighting your wallet on fire.

Joshua comes over looking smart in his black slacks and matching black button up. He’s got beautiful diamond cuff links on, his gift from Jeonghan. You don’t want to know if they’re real or not. He’s busy breaking off Kitkat pieces.

“Don’t you hate watching movies with other people?” you ask him after making sure Jeonghan’s out of earshot.

Joshua’s mouth quirks. “I’ve already seen this one. I don’t mind the distraction as much the second time around.”

“Plus,” he adds, stealing a handful of popcorn from your bag, “I can have all the snacks I want.”

In response, you steal a piece of Kitkat.

“Guys, the movie is starting soon,” calls Seungcheol.

Getting to pick any seat you want is even more exciting. You wander up and down the rows, looking for the best location.

“Bun–”

“No,” scolds Jeonghan. “You two are sitting in view of everyone. You ruined last movie night. Actually, no. Bun come sit next to me.”

“What do I get if I do?” you ask.

“The joy of not picking up your tab tonight,” is Jeonghan’s evil response. 

You settle down beside him.

Wonwoo and Mingyu take seats behind yours, whispering to each other over Mingyu’s phone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, twisting in your seat. The movie’s starting, but no one is watching it.

“Looking at wedding venues,” says Wonwoo. “Someone’s impatient.”

“Let me see!”

“No,” says Mingyu, throwing a glare towards Jeonghan and Joshua. “I don’t want them getting any ideas.”

Joshua scoffs. “Like we’re interested in your taste.”

Seungcheol, who’s alone in the row behind everyone, leans forward to check the phone. “Jesus! Are you inviting all of the city to your wedding? That’s a castle!”

“We’re just looking!” snaps Mingyu, darkening his phone.

“Oh, throw your big wedding,” says Jeonghan casually. “Shua and I’ve been married since 2019.”

Everyone goes still and silent, trying to understand if he’s serious or not. The opening music plays, but everyone is looking at Joshua. When Joshua nods, the group descends into chaos.

“I knew it!” you scream, jumping to your feet. “When in 2019? Wait, don’t tell me…”

“Graduation day, of course. We started at the courthouse and then went to the ceremony. So technically most of you were at our wedding.”

“A graduation ceremony is not a wedding!”

“Then I guess we’ll have to throw another one.”

“Oh my god,” says Seungcheol. “That’s why you bastards were late.”

Jeonghan shrugs. “There was a line at the courthouse.”

Everyone turns to look at Mingyu, who’s just been sitting in stunned silence.

“You’ve really been holding onto this for six years?” he asks weakly. “Just to prank me?”

“In fairness,” says Joshua, “we didn’t think it would take you six years to propose.”

Wonwoo looks more curious than upset. “What if we’d broken up?” he asks.

Jeonghan shakes his head, sending his long hair swirling around his face like he’s in a shampoo commercial. “No chance. I called it the first time we saw you two together. I knew you were lifers.”

“I guess that’s sweet.”

“See?” The smugness radiating off of him is enough to set the planet out of alignment. “I can keep a secret.”

“I told you all, I told you,” you repeat.

Joshua grins, patting your head. You don’t even care that he’s messing up your updo. “Yeah, I was pretty impressed you figured it out. Our Bun is a clever one.”

“It only took her six years,” quips Jeonghan, but he’s grinning.

“Can I–”

“Yes,” says Joshua. “You can be whatever you want to be at our wedding.”

“Two weddings!” you call back to Seungcheol. He just gives you an affectionate smile that makes joy bloom in your body.

And one day, maybe three.

Mingyu is completely silent throughout the movie. You watch it, but you’re smug the entire time. No one knows your friends like you do: they better not underestimate you again.

Seungcheol glues himself back at your side as soon as the credits roll. You won’t admit it out loud, but you missed him there.

The six of you head back to Jeonghan and Joshua’s for an actual dinner not made of popcorn and candy. You give Joshua your gift, which is the same gift you give every year upon request. It’s a cooler filled with all his favorite banchan.

He takes it from you with visible excitement. “Thanks, Bun. We’re going to enjoy this for a whole week.”

“‘We’ are not,” remarks Jeonghan. “Because he’s going to slap my hand if I try to take any.”

“I won’t!”

“You absolutely will!”

Joshua grins. “Yeah, I will. It’s called Joshua Day for a reason.”

Mingyu’s finally rallied. He points to a large square box that’s beautifully wrapped. No one’s grabbed it yet.“We have a gift for you.”

Wonwoo pipes up. “From all of us.”

“For me?” you ask. “But it’s Joshua Day. Is this a joke?”

“Housewarming gift,” explains Joshua.

Whatever it is, it’s heavy. Seungcheol helps you heave the box up onto the table. It must be expensive, too, if they’ve all gone in on it.

You pull off the wrapping paper to see a box with Staub printed on it. “Guys…”

Inside is a pearly pink cocotte. You squeal, lifting it carefully onto the table.

“It’s a joint gift,” says Joshua. “The pot is for you…”

“...but you have to use it to cook rice for Cheol sometimes,” explains Jeonghan.

“Guys,” you say, voice bright with excitement. “Thank you!”

Seungcheol’s smile looks bewildered. “It’s a pot.”

“It’s a Staub cast iron cocotte,” you correct.
“You just said a bunch of words that mean nothing to me.”

“It’s a really nice and really expensive pot.”

Now he nods. “Got it. All I care about is that you’re happy. Thanks, guys.”

You hug each of your friends, squeezing them tightly. It’s the best gift you’ve ever gotten, in your opinion. You can’t wait to start using it straightaway.

You pull out your phone to snap some photos and see several messages from your cousin.

Hansol: hey 

Hansol: it’s the end of the month

Hansol: are u ok?

You: yes! Omg sorry

You: I moved in with Seungcheol

Hansol: is that…good?

You: Very good. We’re happy. I promise.

Hansol: OK

Hansol: If ur happy im happy

Hansol: verdict still out on him tho

You: Come VISIT ME then

Hansol: I will but w/ Hao

Hansol: as a buffer

You: GREAT IDEA!!!!!!!

Hansol: u have my door code

Hansol: if u need to escape mr. red flag

You: HANSOL MY BOYFRIEND IS NOT A RED FLAG

Hansol: 🫠

Hansol: kidding

Hansol: love u happy new year

You: Happy New Year you little shit

Hansol: ♥️

You lower your phone as Seungcheol comes over. He’s not asking but the possessive way he runs his hand across your back tells you he’s curious.

“It’s Hansol. He wanted to make sure I found a place.”

“Oh. What did you say?”

“That we’re happily living together. He wants to visit but with Minghao.”

Seungcheol brightens at this. “Yes! I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“You know, you never told me how you met him.”

“I’ll let him tell you. It’s better that way.”

“Another secret,” you murmur, but more with intrigue than annoyance. You’ll get to the bottom of this one, too.

“Guys,” calls Jeonghan. “It’s time for cake!”

Wonwoo groans. “I ate too much candy.”

“You have to come sit here anyway!”

Everyone gathers around the table while Jeonghan places a beautiful cake in front of his husband. It looks like a cloud, fluffy with whipped cream and sprinkled with stars. Seungcheol carefully lights each candle before you all start to sing.

As you sing, you can’t help but let your gaze wander. It’s been a difficult year, but it’s also been magical in its own way. And here, near the end of if, you’re surrounded by the people who know you and love you best. You force your gaze back to Joshua, who is regarding you warmly.

“Happy birthday, dear Joshua…”

He takes a second to make his wish, and so do you.

With a deep breath, he leans forward, and blows out the candles.