#I'M A LITTLE RUSTY BUT AS YOU CAN SEE--HYUK HAD A LOT TO SAY AND FEEL IWUEHDIWHD

[jeoseungsaja]

A ball of fog expands into the air after a trembling breath takes place; long fingers of one hand latched onto tubes painted aquamarine. The other hand is busy fiddling with what rests in his breast pocket, making sure, for the nth time, that the small box is still there, ever so present to the point that it's left a temporal dent on the fabric of his shirt. Teeth bite on his bottom lip --- once, twice; enough to leave an edge of mouth with a small peel which represents nervousness.

He doesn't even remember the last time he was with these many knots in his stomach; a collection of butterflies and twists alike, finding a home in the ever so chaotic depths of the detective. Hyuk takes another deep breath; grabbing his cellphone and glancing at the last text message received from his dear friend ('I'll be there').

It hasn't even been that long since the last time they saw each other; his brain still replaying that last meeting at the beach, when the calendar marked his birthday and his best friend etched a new feeling into his heart. It was brief but undeniably dulcet (and unconsciously wanted, too, that he figured out with time) moment; where time sweetly froze and he was able to decipher, with surprise and warmth, how well the lines of Patrick's lips matched his.

Oh, boy. Just thinking about it sends spirals of temperature up his neck. He truly hasn't been the same ever since --- in a good way. Even his co-workers wonder why he's been more lenient than usual. And, well...whatever this might be, he likes it. Just as much as he likes him. Patrick.

Regardless of feelings bubbling up, this isn't much about putting those puzzle pieces together (they will fall into place with time, won't they?), but about a special occasion; a special day: His best friend's birthday; a mark Hyuk never misses, no matter where he might be or what he's doing. It's why he's decided to take, once again, a plane all the way to Europe --- because a videocall won't do, nor a text message with those exasperating emojis that the detective can't even use properly. Patrick deserves more than that, and he can argue all he wants; Hyuk will not be convinced otherwise.

And so he's here, asking Patrick to see him at the London Bridge, at the time where is dark enough for the towers and rails to lit up and reflect their lights upon the dancing waters. It's a way to reminisce the past, about those days where they'd escape social events just for them to walk all the way here; about those days where Patrick would talk about the stories written behind the bridge and Hyuk would listen intently; about those days where they'd laugh and chat whilst living their adventures of youth.

It's a way to reminisce the past. And connect the present. Much like the bridge links one point to the other.

He waits, patiently so, actually. Knows that Patrick barely gives time for himself even when being a special occasion; prefers to carry on with his endless duties as a responsible professor and doting father. That's Patrick Myungdae Grace for you: A gentleman who often puts loved ones first before even thinking about his own self.

After a few minutes, Hyuk hears hurried steps on the humid ground; such a sound making him turn at once. There he is; the tall man with the kind face and soft eyes, a few strands of hair being blown by the biting, Londoner wind. He looks beautiful as ever, especially when his eyes crinkle due to a smile pulling his lips.

The detective's heart is singing. Loudly. He almost feels his rib-cage is going to explode.

Before Patrick could possibly voice any kind of apology about being a few minutes late (Hyuk doesn't care --- he just cares that he made it in one piece), an impulse makes Hyuk throw his arms around his best friend to wrap him into a tight, affectionate hug; the type only Patrick gets (otherwise Hyuk is too emotionally stiff, as some say). When he pulls away, his fingers remain clasped onto his dear friend's forearms, thumbs unconsciously rubbing the space there as a grin stretches his mouth.

"You look tired. Have you eaten anything? Don't tell me you're only running on tea and the birthday breakfast Hiro and Elise made you--" He scowls, before his features slowly turn softer. "I...wanted us to meet here because I thought...maybe we could, walk a little and..uh...eat at that place we used to go to...when we were younger. The one with fish and chips? I checked and they close until late---"

Since when is he a rambler? He stops himself, awkwardly clearing his throat whilst hands slip away from Patrick's body. "Oh," he quickly goes to fetch the box he's been guarding all this time and hands it to his dear friend. It's small, long; dark green. "For you. I also...wanted to see if they fit you right, could you...open it to check?" Hyuk tries to not rush Patrick into opening the gift, his fuse very short in comparison to his dear friend's. Once it's open, a pair of Rubik's cube cuff links is found inside. The little cubes even twist some, in case Patrick needs a distraction while wearing them. Of course Hyuk had to get them for him.

"Let me," Hyuk grabs one of the cuff links and then takes a careful hold of Patrick's wrist; turning it so his palm is exposed. At first, the detective's focused on putting it on, eyes even narrowing as to look at the shirt's hole under the shadow of artificial lights. But then, he realizes how close he is, how Patrick's wrist is exposed to him even if the rest of his shirt hugs his arm effortlessly. Suddenly, he can feel his heart in his throat and there's the need to---

Just do it, Lee Hyuk. For once, follow that voice. And he does it. He gently kisses the center of Patrick's wrist.

Even if heat crawls all the way to his cheeks, he pretends that what he did is casual; fingers stumbling a little but finally managing to keep the cuff link on place. "There. It--It looks nice. Let's see the other---" And he does the same thing: grabs the cuff link from the box, and then his dear friend's wrist.

He kisses that one, too. The mark tender. A honeyed whisper of utter affection. I'm here. I'll always be here. For you. Just for you.

A clear of his throat; a little, bashful side-smile as the detective attempts to gain his usual composure and peeks to see Patrick. He doesn't apologize for what he did, nor does he try to quickly change the subject. There's no ounce of regret in that body of his and, besides...at this point, that wall where the awkwardness of sentiment was stored is slowly but surely crumbling down, isn't it?

Slow but steady steps.

"I--also got you another thing, but I'll...give it to you until we get to eat." A rainbow fountain pen, that's neatly wrapped in the oh so famous newspaper wrapper he uses. It's saved in the pocket of his trousers; awaiting for the right time to fall onto Patrick's hands.

Hyuk's hands, which rested right under Patrick's wrists, move so they can meet his dear friend's shoulders. He pats them, then pretends to accommodate the lapel of his shirt, when in reality he's getting his palms ready to climb up. And they do, rise and a little timidly; fingertips daring to reach his dear friend's face. The detective's fingers are calloused, but his touch tries to be soft; caring --- loving.

He gives him a smile. One that, he hopes, tells Patrick how proud he is. Of him, his best friend (and something more). Of who he is, who he's become. And how he still holds gentleness and mercy by his hand, despite it all.

"Happy birthday, Dae-yah."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE MOST WONDROUS PROFESSOR @ofgentleresolve 🥺🎂