#c: son joonho

[riveires]

fight club

@twentysixdegrees​

JOOHYUK

It's insult to injury. It may or may not be the right metaphor...or, simile? Shit, he's always been bad at this kind of stuff. Add another language to the mix and things all get jumbled up in his brain, especially when he's in this kind of mood. The bus ride back had been full of tension, and he'd practically jumped down the stairs of the thing, only barely remembering to grab his gym bag before heading back to the dorm.

He's half hoping Joonho isn't there--a part of him knows he needs time to cool off. But the other half just wants to--"What the fuck." It's like he can't throw the bag hard enough against the wall, but he hears something clack against the concrete blocks before it drops down harmlessly onto his bed. "Where the hell were you today?" His hands are balled up at his sides and he's practically shaking. It may seem silly but--Joohyuk needed this. He needed them to do well today and he needed Joonho there because he's--his person.

You'll never hear him admit it though.

"We lost." The tiny space of their room is suddenly too large. "We got our asses handed to us and you were supposed to be there. You fucking promised, and, and, here you are on your ass doing nothing. Nothing." He feels suffocated. He wants to grab Joonho by the collar. He wants to run far away but he can't help himself, either--"You're such a shitty fucking best friend. You couldn't even do this one thing for me?"

JOONHO

the current circumstances have been everything but forgiving lately: if their semi-packed room is looking like something of a shit show right now, joonho's own state of presence is giving it a run for its money. a glance at the wear and tear of the past week is one hell of a revelation: dark circles marked in, coffee of breath, patches of stubble thanks to none other but his negligence. and it's indeed negligence that's to blame this time. diving head first into some logistics project had rendered everything else that mattered completely and utterly lost to him.

so when joohyuk's voice cuts through the air, all he can say is,

"what?" 

it takes him a minute for joonho to gather himself: day, time, event. a friday, he notes. upon giving the digital clock a closer look does the second realization drop down like a catastrophic bomb because god fucking damn it, he wasn't supposed to be here but at the soccer field.

but there's no time to salvage the damage, not when it's already done. between them simmers a third presence, the other's anger threatening to boil over. 

“christ, that completely slipped from my mind, i—" and he can only flinch, because the next string of words that would fall from his mouth suddenly sounded like the most insensitive thing he could say right then and there: "i'm so sorry, dude."

JOOHYUK

how bitter the realization was, when he scoured the crowd for a familiar face and didn't find the one he was looking for. it was almost like adding salt to the wound; he could have used joonho's nauseatingly affable disposition right after the loss.

for a few seconds, joohyuk breathes in deep through his nose and wonders if he's overreacting. he looks at joonho's face, at the figure he cuts against the harsh lighting of their school desk lamps, and he feels like a fool. this kind of thing has happened before. joonho is prone to getting lost in whatever he's put his mind to, and in many ways that's an admirable trait but in situations like this...how many times does joohyuk gotta utter "it's fine, man" and pretend it really is? fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, thrice--shame on me.

"you said you'd be there, and yeah--life happens, shit happens, but this was really goddamn important to me! and you knew that. why do you do this kind of shit so much? it's not cute." joohyuk keeps balling and un-balling his fist. he doesn't want to get physical but there's an urge to do something with his hands. "'i'm so sorry, dude?' that's all you have to say? you're the worst; best friend my ass--you probably just barely remember my fucking name."

JOONHO

there's a thin line between admission and pure, unadulterated guilt. he has enough shame to feel the latter, enough of a brain to perform the former. thing is, it seems like neither will do any good to pacify joohyuk's brimming rage. from the corner of his eye, he can see the movement of his hands, akin to the clenching of a jaw. a jaw that might be his own after he gets his teeth knocked out raw. be it because of the lack of an immediate solution, or the sight of that alone,  traces of annoyance start to snake in right beneath the somber tone of his voice.

joonho sighs. "it's been busy. you know that as well as i do, joohyuk." especially, most definitely of far more pressing issues. the fact that this—no, their, as in under mutually shared ownership—room isn't fully in order, for one. maybe that he's been covering for him whenever he'd been gone, for another. childish is the thought that begins to circle around in his head. so fucking childish.

"it sucks that the team lost. how am i supposed to make it up to you?"

JOOHYUK

"stop saying my name like that." the anger had been dissipating, but then the pity in joonho's voice bled through the temporary impasse. he tries to navigate around the mess of boxes in their room, but his chin knocks against something particularly hard in a box and curses under his breath. it's one thing after the other--he just can't seem to win.

the walls aren't moving but the space seems smaller. "what the hell could you possibly do to make it up to me? there's literally nothing, joonho. you think its that easy?" the laugh that sounds into the room is full of something that creeps, claws, and settles somewhere in between them, just waiting for the perfect time to ruin everything. "god, life's so easy for you, isn't it? we're both here, at this fucking school, in this tiny little room, but you've got your shit together. you've got your priorities--treading water just fine with all these ivy league assholes. but me? i'm just not good enough. not enough for you to care."

JOONHO

there's no reason why he shouldn't be used to it—the slew of assumptions, the implications held under that sting. four years should be more than enough to grow a skin so thick that nothing should cut through, but joohyuk’s gaze is knife-sharp, the words that fall from his lips sharper. 

"easy?" joonho narrows his eyes. "well i think it'd be fucking easy for anyone to let something like this go." a pause, one that feels more like a deadweight about to drop over their heads than anything as light as an inhale. "but you're not just anybody, are you? can’t stand if not one person isn’t paying attention to you for one damn second.” 

the room bristles, the air crackling. it's palpable enough for joonho to realize that this is impossibly suffocating.

"there'll be other games." a poor attempt to backtrack, if at all. the tightness of his voice loosens, but the hollowness of his gaze betrays him entirely. since when had he become this stubborn?  "it’s not the end of the world.”

JOOHYUK

it's the feeling of when you're watching water fill something up, toomuchtoofast but you're too far, too helpless, to do anything about it. the surface tension arches, forming the slightest bulge over the rim, and then-

"you don't fucking understand!"

it overflows, and he's lost this battle. 

joohyuk's built a reputation for himself. he likes it, identifies with it, and plays into it. 'oh of course he won't mind! joohyuk's super chill!''you'll love joohyuk, he's so outgoing!him? that dude that's always smiling and laughing about anything and everything? pretty sure joohyuk never gets mad!

so why does joonho get under his skin like this? it's a particular skill - he knows the things that those other people don't. he can read joohyuk without him ever having to say anything. yet - they're not on the same wavelength right now. now, when it might just matter the absolute most. 

"i like attention, so what? it's fucking true - that shit doesn't hurt me." his voice is raising. joohyuk realizes, but it doesn't register, not fully. "i wanted you to be there because i fucking need you!" he stutters, regroups - rephrases. "i just -- i needed you there, but you have your priorities, don't you?" the anger deflates, the pressure releasing from his chest and his shoulders. he's unwinding but it doesn't make it better because what replaces that white-hot red tint is pure hurt. "i just don't matter as much as your - your little elitist ass friends!" he'd always joked about joonho's accelerated lecture friends, and truthfully he'd be lying if he wasn't a little insecure - yes, they all go to an ivy league school but he's here on an athletic scholarship, primarily.

and, he's not infallible - clearly.

joohyuk knows he's making assumptions, half-thought out accusations, but this is the only way he can take back what little is left of his pride. he's fishing for anything that he knows may hurt joonho because he's in the middle of his pity party and he needs to tear down the person closest to him in actual distance as well as just, in general.

"they're fucking elitist pricks and you're one of them, too!" he kicks his slightly pushed out chair into the desk, and puts his palms to his temples, as if he can re-center himself with the motion, ease his anger - but nothing is working.

JOONHO

and there it is.

they're not strangers to any of this, to the way joohyuk is at the mercy of his own emotions, and the perilous ups and downs that come with their weight. his words are hurled like pelting stones. they hit where it should hurt the most, one after another, meant to knock him down with each blow.

the last one lands, and then there's silence. all joonho can do is stare. 

then, "you really think that." 

his expression turns blank, eyes dark, a degree too cold to be mere neutrality. stiffly, he swivels around in his chair. grabs his bag from under the desk to slide in his things from the tabletop with a single sweep of his arm.

"you're only proving my point." he stills, tongue deliberately curling around his next set of words that might push them over the brink. every fiber of his being tenses in warning, to be the one to let go, be the better person. but what little remorse that had held him had long slipped free with his rationality. in its place are the thoughts that never fail to loom at his worst: ridiculous. insolent. a fucking child. 

shouldering his backpack, he stands to leave. his voice is void of any feeling. "grow up."

JOOHYUK

tell him to stay. tell him you're sorry, that you didn't mean it.

the rational part of him keeps repeating these things over and over in his brain, but it echoes in the space between his ears - nothing seems to absorb, nothing happens, and he doesn't so much as twitch a finger, as he watches joonho pack his things. joohyuk feels his limbs go numb, and he lets his hands fall back down to his sides.

it's just been a lot, lately. you've missed him so much but have been unable to tell him just how much. you're jealous - of his study budies and don't know how to properly express it without potentially getting too raw and revealing things that might change your relationship forever.

but instead, he twists his face into some sort of scowl, eyes burning not with hatred but with some emotion that is almost too heavy to put into words. "clearly, i'm right - if you're running off like this. i hit a nerve," he accuses. it's always the people closest to you that can inspire the strongest emotions. he's a maelstrom of feelings, and if he were even just a little more clear headed he could maybe try and pick apart and identify the individual emotions causing this shitstorm of a confrontation - and try to explain it in a way that'd be more fair, in a way that could diffuse this -

instead, he hears the last two words from joonho, and he laughs. bitterly. "honestly? fuck off, man." and he turns his back on him, listening closely for the sound of sneakers scuffing against linoleum to fade - going from right next to him to down the hall, around the corner.

going, going, going...gone.

"this sucks." this was far from the way he wanted this to end. but he's here now, and he's alone.

[FIN]

[brandycranby]

in his name: the heroes

a brief exploration of CE character names and how they match their stories/personalities... or don’t 😗💕

the heroes  ❥ the villains  ❥ the lovers

a/n: finally putting my linguistics degree to good use my frens 😚 i really enjoy sociolinguistics, if i continued w grad ling, i would’ve focused on that i think. i’ve been meaning to make more bulletpoint posts and headcanons bc sometimes!! you're too tired for coherent fic!!

Andy Barber

ANDY is a diminutive of ANDREW, a given name with Greek roots, Andreia.

Meaning “brave”, “manly”, or “valorous”, fitting for Andy who, in canon, is said to be particularly aggressive and masculine as a result of the warrior gene or a MAO-A variant i mean largely played up for the ✨️drama✨️ but u kno

ironic if you consider how he’s often one step away from being soft dark or full dark bc of his aggressiveness but that's also what's attractive 😬

BARBER is what’s known as an occupational surname, very common English last names. some others are miller, baker, and smith. it’s likely that one of his patrilineal grandfathers was actually a barber

Ari Levinson

ARI is a Jewish name and is a variant of Arieh. Both mean lion in Hebrew. (Ari is also a given name in Faroese and Icelandic but since he’s canonically Jewish, we’ll skip those explanations)

LEVINSON is a Jewish patronymic last name where it’s a word made up of a personal name + son/daughter of, so Levin + “son”. Jewish surnames have historically used the Hebrew prefix ben (son of) or bat (daughter of-) and then the father’s name. but bc of decrees in the 18th c. german empire, these traditional surnames were changed to be more “european”

given that in canon, he and his mum tried to escape the continent bc of nazi perscution, we can assume that he’s Ashkenazi Jewish by birth and is able to speak Yiddish alongside Hebrew and English. depending on whether his adoptive family was also Jewish or not and whether he was encouraged to keep speaking Yiddish or assimilate would have had effects on his language skills tho 😕 for more angst, apply forced americanization

Curtis Everett

CURTIS is an English translation of Corteis (Old French) which may sound very similar to “courteous” to you!! hehe that’s bc tho english is a germanic language, it uses dozens of loan words from other languages. so Curtis means “well-bred” or “courteous” stemming from the idea of courtly behavior or etiquette.

the idea of etiquette began snowballing in popularity during the enlightenment when the bourgeoisie adopted upper class manners, aka “polite society” in order to move up in the world. kinda parallel to Curtis' movement from the tail end to the engine

EVERETT is also interesting; originally Everard (Old English), it means “strong/hard as a boar”. boars are notoriously hard to kill and were called "desperate fighters" by the brits that hunted them. special spears had to be made for hunting them whereby the animal would charge and impale itself. i hope bong joonho knows what an apt name it is for our rebellion leader Curtis 💕💕

Frank Adler

We have some options with FRANK. It could be a name in itself, or a shortened form of Francis and Franklin. histotically, Francis is a shortened version of Franciscus and Francesco which mean “Frenchman” or “free man” in reference to St. Francis of Assisi. Franklin is an English name with roots in Middle English, meaning “landowner of free origin”

ADLER is Middle German, stemming from the term “edler Aar” or “noble eagle” which distinguished eagles from falcons and hawks for hunting.

frankie's just a plain ol boy but he is rather noble like an eagle 🥺

Steve Rogers

STEVE is diminutive of Steven or Stephen, stemming from Stéphanos (Ancient Greek) meaning “wreath, crown, honor” as well as “to wreathe around”, which in Steve’s case could imply protection 🥺

but this name is also significant bc of its common attribution to Saint Stephen, a disciple of Jesus that was stoned to death and named the first martyr. slightly prophetic of Sarah Rogers ngl 🥲

Sarah may have also called him Stíofán or Steabhán at home (not on the streets bc that’s how you let racist/nationalist ppl know you’re not from here uwu) but she may have also been a part of the generation in Ireland that didnt get to learn or use Irish bc of British control 🤷🏻‍♀️

ROGERS is… complicated in that it could be an English/Norman surname or an Anglicized Irish surname. Rogers in the Norman sense means “son of Roger”. The Normans (aka early French) invaded England in the 11th century and eventually conquered Ireland in the 12th century bringing the name Rogers.

Alternatively, it could be the English version of Mac Ruaidhrí. We don’t know enough about his dad (besides that he was abusive in the og comics) to decide but since the more common Anglicization of Mac Ruaidhrí is McCreary or McCrory, one of Steve’s ancestors might have just taken the English surname.

---

genuinely if you finished this, ty bc this is so niche of an interest 😖💕💕 ily and i'll get the villains out soon 👀

tag list: @punemy-spotted, @thornsnvultures, @sweetascanbee

[riveires]

wildfire

@twentysixdegrees

JOONHO

Midday in July, sunlight full and sweet, melting golden. It’s uncharacteristically poetic, more so yet when such a line is being waxed by none other but Son Joonho. Must be all that love in the air, with the newly weds having tied the knot—that, or it’s the dazed heat that’s making his thoughts slip clumsy.  He’s reliable in that department: too little to say, too much to think. He looks down at his flute, now drained of champagne and comes to the final conclusion that this, this is must be the root cause but it doesn’t matter. He needs another glass.

Pulling away from the small crowd that had began to gather around the table, Joonho turns to wave a server over, but before he can so much as pivot on his heels, eye meets unsuspecting eye and he’s struck. Stunned. Bolt of lightning without the thunder.

Standing at a distance no more than a couple of feet away is a face he once knew. Knows still, too well. Memory lines up almost perfectly to the present; his face is more angular here, no doubt sharpened with age, but then Joonho gaze roves over to the slant of his nose, jaw, curve of his mouth, and his breath is caught in his throat. Sugar dissolves from his tongue. Something stings. Aches.

“...Joohyuk?”

JOOHYUK

Jamie has been really great. She's picked up on his hesitation whenever people ask if they're next, and she plays it off like a champ. They work together, she's beautiful, and they get along well so it just made sense to ask her to be his plus one. There's no love there, just a lot of respect and admiration. In fact, he respects and admires her so much, that he offers to go grab them each another drink. Joohyuk is thanking god for the open bar when his internal prayer gets interrupted by the call of his own name.

"Joonho," he responds instinctively, blinking three times more than necessary when he turns to look in the direction of his former...roommate? best friend? flame? "You weren't, I didn't--uh," Joohyuk is panicking; it feels like he's back in college. "I didn't know you were coming to Lara and Jiya's wedding." It feels like New Year's again--that one night that changed everything but didn't seem to change enough.

He looks as Joohyuk would have imagined. The years between then and now have polished him; he's clean lines but gentle eyes, yet his posture betrays him. They're both tense. Where do they even stand?

"Do you want to walk with me? To somewhere a little quieter?" Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why would he want anything to do with you anymore?

JOONHO

There’s something inherently wrong with this picture: two men with their feet forward, and the prospects of downing 70-proof concoctions by the bottle. The joke very nearly writes itself, but neither are laughing. Joohyuk stills as if he’s only a step away from making a mad dash for cover, and Joonho is too tongue-tied to be aware of anything else but the intense regret that washes through in overflow.

“I didn’t know you were here.” Here, in this little slice of New England that he’d made meticulous efforts to avoid any and almost all chances to return. A handful of hours from there, north of where back then marks a decade in its passage. Stagnancy and permanence, both ways that had been so undeniably his own that anything else was impossible. But the impossible had happened: the day after graduation, he’d hit the ground running, and for the next ten years, he’d never turned to look back.

Now, Joonho can’t even think to take his eyes off him, frozen in his shell-shocked state. Joohyuk’s lips spell out a stream of questions, ones that he carefully, dazedly answers.

“Yeah.” Again then, a little softer. He puts his hands in his pockets, steals a glance at the ground before his gaze returns. “Yeah, that’d be...good.” Joonho clears his throat. “Where...do you wanna go?”

JOOHYUK

The more appropriate way to go about this conversation would be if he'd been the one to say: 'I didn't know you were here.' Briefly, he's at a loss as to what he should say in response. Joonho had effectively taken his line and thrown it right back at him and-- "Lara and I kept in touch after graduation." The hidden implication sits uncomfortably in between them right after the sentence leaves his mouth.

Unlike Joonho, he'd stayed in the area, finding half-fulfillment in a well-paying, stable job with one of his former soccer teammates. Kyle had almost fully replaced Joonho in the 'best friend' department but there was always something a little lacking. They'd climbed up the corporate ladder with their prestigious university's mantle hanging above them with every promotion, networking like crazy--until Kyle moved halfway across the country and Joohyuk climbed up even further. Without him. Without Joonho.

That second loss wasn't nearly as devastating.

The reminder makes him stutter in his steps, and he feels a lot less in control. "There's the uh, the hedge maze or something right outside the...venue." He looks around for his date, for another classmate, anyone that can help ease the tension or take him out of the situation completely but it's like he can't place faces to names anymore. It's just Joonho. "We can just...walk around it or inside, it doesn't matter to me."

Ungracefully, he downs the rest of what's in his champagne glass, and waits for Joonho to walk his way. He's extremely conscious of their pace, how far they're walking apart, and in a fit of nervousness, he remarks, "Either way we're going to get lost. I'm still bad with directions even after living in New York for the past few years." Give a little, take a little.  "Where...have you been?"

JOONHO

With every answer, there's the unspoken question of his lack thereof. Couldn't, didn't keep in contact, his number always beneath his hovering hands but never pressed, leaving behind footprints everywhere and anywhere except where a certain someone might be. Between the two of them, Joohyuk may have been the athlete, but Joonho had the unfortunate skill ability to run at the first spur of reflexes—the heart wants what the heart wants, but he's already sprinted. Made a distance marked by miles. Years. Memories already fading into sepia tones.

So then what's stopping him from turning the other way?

"Oh. That's great." His steps match up to Joohyuk's strides. They fall faint, hushed against the padding of the trimmed grass as they walk. Instinctively, he moves on a couple inches ahead, in case they do get lost. That strikes him belatedly, with a pang. Old habits die hard.

“I’ve…” Joonho hesitates. “I’ve been around.” He can’t lie through his teeth, if that’s anything to find relief in. “Where I work they like to keep me constantly on my toes. Checking up on sites and such.” A dry laugh follows.

When they reach the maze, he moves on further ahead—through the entrance, to a bench situated somewhere in the clearing. He could easily suggest they go deeper into the coiled space, but then wonders if that would imply anything more than what is already lodged between them. He’s knotted with discomfort, or is it want? Or are those terms interchangeable? Want, the pang of not having anything at all. It brings the same spell of nausea all the same. He should’ve known to slip himself another glass before diving in head-first.

“I should’ve known you were there. New York. It’s...” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “You’d fit right in without question.” And there’s that laugh again. Not knowing, unknowingly so. “Much better than I could, anyway.”

JOOHYUK

It strikes him suddenly, that he's always looking at Joonho's back. Back in college, Joonho had hard-carried him through a few semesters when he couldn't figure his shit out, and Joohyuk had...provided comic relief? An outlet for those nights where Joonho needed to get out and drink until he forgot his own name?

But look at him now - cushy job in one of those fields that makes people nod, impressed. Full of crisp suits and white men - Joohyuk's where he is today because he's a great bullshitter. Half the battle is the confidence, and the other fourth is connections. And that last bit? Well, that part is actually is hard work, and he'd learned that from --

"Joonho, you coulda made it in New York if you really wanted to." He grins, and he feels like a college freshman again. "You're the smartest and most hard-working person I know - you'd do my job ten times better than me in half the time."

But the  feeling at Joonho's compliment fills him with giddiness - a little amplified by the open bar (former blessing turned current yikes), and he puts his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. And then, he takes a seat onto the stone bench, perched just a bit on the edge, looking up at Joonho.

Something about this position takes him back to some day in late December, and his chest tightens. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

"It's been a bit lonely without ya." And he never should have sat down. Joonho has the higher ground; Joohyuk has always been the one who felt too much, too quickly, too intensely. He's a bit of an all or nothing guy. "I did miss you, if we're being honest here."

Well, fuck.

JOONHO

There's a sting of disappointment that has him almost flinch despite himself. It's a compliment that means well—of course, it's Joonhyuk, for Christ's sake, he always does in twofold, three, heart stitched flame red on his sleeve—but the sinking feeling snakes in, anyway. Is that all there is to say? But he's the last person on this planet to have the right to such expectations, to yearn as so.

"Uh," Joonho tries on a polite smile. "Wouldn't be my kind of people there..." He doesn't dwell on the stagnancy of his own job—a passion project for sure, but Joonho's not blind to what that speaks volumes to  an outsider. A dismissive wave. The sentiment that follows this time is genuine. "I'll let you handle the big city for me."

Like he's let him done back then. The one constant he's known, forever steadfast in his presence, his warmth.

In the beat of silence that falls, Joonho wonders if it's too late to turn things around. To let the confessions he's left buried to fall free from his mouth. That there was never really anyone else after him.  That his absence has become a part of his very being, like a tangible limb, a faithful shadow. That there are days where the empty air of his room is filled whole with it, a kind of lonely that is intimate with the pain it brings.

But then Joohyuk speaks, and he's stunned speechless.

The shock on his face is vivid. Common sense lags too far behind to have the decency to at least be embarrassed, thoughts lapsing into white noise.

"You-" It's on the top of his tongue. You don't even know. He takes a shaky breath, his mind catches up at last. Composure. Not yet.

"I actually thought about calling you before," Joonho shifts, one foot to the other. "Maybe once. Couple of times. But-" Excuses by the dime, but he's not in the proper state of mind to pick the right one. Another breath, and it lets out in a defeated sigh. "I don't know." I don't know if you'd want me back.

JOOHYUK 

"Me." he teases back, interjecting himself in between the breath it takes for Joonho to continue with his sentence - because Joohyuk is the one that's afraid of being forgotten. "You should have called. I would have liked that." But then he remembers himself in college, and the way they'd left off, the way he'd acted towards the end. It's a two-way street, and he's played just as big a part in this mess they're in right now (if not more). "I could have called too. Should have."

But now they're adults, and their friends are getting married, settling down. Joohyuk's biological clock isn't bothering him and he isn't desperate to find someone to get all domestic with, but there are regrets that have been left gaping still. Tonight might be the best and only night to disinfect and band-aid the damn thing so he decides not to hold back. "You're still a bit of an old man, aren't you? The city and its people aren't so bad. You just need to find your niche."

Joonho looks antsy, and Joohyuk wonders if he should try and wrap this up. He's always been the one to push Joonho from his comfort zone but he doesn't want to actually make him uncomfortable. This situation is awkward enough as is. "You say your people aren't there, but..." The incessant need to be noticed and acknowledged, and the uglier parts of himself that manifest out of those traits - well, he's working on them. Therapy has been great for that. "I'm there." So, that was a bit selfish, a bit self-indulgent, but two steps forward and one step back still nets positive, right?

"And wasn't I your person at one point?" Joohyuk looks up at the man that had given him so many firsts. The one who he truly felt attached at the soul with. "You were mine." Bonds like that don't just fade, not when it's them. "The position's still open if you're interested."

No holding back.

[riveires]

circuits

@twentysixdegrees​

JOOHYUK

it’s certainly an upgrade from freshman year. at least now he doesn’t have to worry about having the right ratio, or making sure to have anywhere from five to twenty dollars on his person to get into a party. the only downside is that he’s pretty sure that their friend group is expecting him to help host at the next major holiday-ish party, and he’s not sure if he’s ready for that just yet. he…doesn’t even have an apartment off campus; he’s in the dorms with joonho, so that’ll be interesting to see how it all plays out–joohyuk is severely distracted.

he’s spacing out on this mildly interesting story about how steph had to walk home barefoot from her latest chem 3 exam because joonho’s getting hit on by a girl who’s like three degrees of separation from any of them. it’s just morally wrong. how can joohyuk leave his best friend and the only roommate he hasn’t scared off by his odd hours in the hands of a total stranger? 

so he thinks up a lie. believable enough to not arouse suspicion–

“i need you,” he states to joonho, looking him straight in the eye. all this after just walking away from steph and jake mid story. “beer pong duo upstairs getting too cocky after 2 wins in a row.” his smile to the girl is too easy to be truly fake. joohyuk is genuinely happy to steal joonho away. “sorry, he’ll catch up with you later. we’ve got a title to defend right now.”

he’s such a freaking liar.

there’s no guilt though. two beers, a cup of the seriously strong mixed juice, and three stupid dare shots in, and joohyuk doesn’t feel much. except for how warm joonho’s palm is in his. they’re holding hands, and he’s dragging him upstairs where the pong table actually is, but he directs them toward a sharp left, where the hallway is dimmer, and the little bay window overlooks the street in front of the house. “i lied.” he shrugs, letting go of joonho’s hand and sitting on the little seat that’s got a worn out cushion. “i’ll lie less in the new year or something, i don’t know.”

“but it was hot down there and i know how uncomfortable you get when there’s a lotta body heat.” nose scrunching, he can even call himself out on his bull (but he’s not sorry). joohyuk reaches behind him, fumbling with the latch on the window. he pushes it out so that it opens an inch or two, letting the cool winter air hit his back. he shivers. “sorry if you were really interested in her. didn’t mean to cockblock you.” opening his legs slightly, he leaves room for joonho to settles himself wherever he wants: against the railing of the stairs, up against the wall, or right in between his legs.

he’s laid the cards out on the table. it’s joonho’s turn now. 

JOONHO

Only two drinks in and Joonho finds himself slipping. Outside, the temperature is well into the negatives, making it the coldest night of the  month, yet his face is flushed, full in its hot tomato glow. Punch drunk Joonho is a sight to behold, blue moon rare. New Year’s Eve, after all, is only an annual occasion, one that he’s fully committed to getting properly smashed for. Except there’s one problem. Some friend of a friend of a friend by the name of Stacey remains as a firm obstacle between the refreshments table and wherever Joohyuk stands in vicinity. As it turns out, there’s some use to being this freakishly tall: he nods at the appropriate intervals of conversation, but his eyes continue to trail well above her shoulder, lingering shy and uncertain on a certain boy’s distinct side profile before sliding back to his companion. Somewhere in the midst of her sweet talk and the single hand that snakes up his chest, it suddenly becomes all too clear just exactly where she keeps pushing towards: neither the friendly game of Kings Cup in the nook nor the “dancing” in front of the T.V., but to the unoccupied bedroom at the end of the corridor. The thing is, Joonho might’ve said yes. She’s pretty enough, smokey-eyed and full-lipped to match, and he’s pliant to the touch. Fooling yourself is easy when there’s the warm burn of rum running through your veins: that this blood rush is for the way her gaze dips, for the swell of bare skin below her neckline. But like all other illusions, this one shatters just as quickly as it had been conjured. He’s whisked away before he knows it, the hand that folds into his centering him back down. It’s earth to Joonho again and he’s saved by the bell, all thanks to Joohyuk, no less. A fact that has his flustered expression shift into one of visible relief. Even more so, when it turns out that the destination his roommate has in mind is something a little more to his liking. Snowflakes fall in thin flurries, the sidewalk below a thin strip of white. The Christmas lights continue to flicker on the front porch. Placing one arm against the ledge, Joonho inhales sharp, then lets go in a slow stream. He feels cooler, better even, but judging by the lopsided grin still plastered on his mouth, not anywhere near sober. “I don’t mind.” He leans against the side of the window, all nonchalant, the hitch of a chuckle light in the baritone of his voice. In vino veritas, isn’t that what it is? Even in Joohyuk’s half-assed excuses, there’s a little bit of truth there, he reckons. Or he’s only buying into the damn thing because he’s quietly loving the way he looks at him like that as he says it. Or just how he looks. Like that. Washed over in the dim orange glow. Barely half an hour to midnight and subtlety has yet to check in at the door; an entirely new invitation present and ready and spreading itself out for him to take. But he won’t move that close, not right now, only marginally, to tap at his ankle with his foot. “Don’t tell me you were jealous, man.”

JOOHYUK

isn't it strange, that when you're fooling around, completely sober, in the middle of the day, you could be pressed skin to skin and yet think nothing of it? yet in a situation like this, where there's still a few inches between then, but there's alcohol involved at a time close to midnight--joohyuk is overthinking every little detail.

the confirmation from joonho about how he really feels about miss-too-close has him mirroring joonho's stupid face. the expression that, for the last few weeks, has made him feel all sorts of ways that he'd rather not think about. joohyuk does his best impression of that smile, but he knows that his version isn't nearly as megawatt beautiful as the original. "good. glad to know that if it were between me or her you'd pick me."

a casual sort of terror starts to creep through hims. he's never been nervous in front of joonho before, and he's rarely nervous in front of people in general but tonight? tonight he's nervous. he knows by the way blood rushes through his system, with the way he instinctively reaches out to settle his right hand onto joonho's hip. he's always been chased, never quite the one doing the chasing. "jealousy doesn't look good on anyone, not even me." his other hand rises to the level of joonho's waist, index finger threading through a beltloop and pulling him just a little closer. "would it have inflated your ego if i said yes?"

there's a need here. it rises in between them, and joohyuk wonders if he's going to break first. it's like that drinking game, where you just keeping adding splashes of soju into a glass full of beer. titanic, was the name of it if he remembered correctly.

damn, that shit really doesn't matter right now.

"joonho, it's really close to midnight. if you're gonna try and find a new year's kiss you better go prowl the floor now." is joonho shuffling in or is he pulling him closer? either way, joohyuk leans in, lips brushing against joonho's jaw.

it barely comes out. it's more of a vibration of sounds against skin, but it's loud enough. "otherwise it might just be me." 

JOONHO

The course of this evening has been something of a losing battle. Composure slips beneath him slow, fine sand through the pinch of an hourglass. With it escapes the number of excuses Joonho could possibly come up with, out by the glass. He's on the high-end of some type of mood, molten amber, liquid smooth. A single touch shouldn't unravel him so completely. Doesn't. But instead, there's the flush that blooms right underneath where Joohyuk's hand presses ever so light.

Spoken envy: in the daylight, it might have looked out of place—jarring under the exposure, perhaps quick to be brushed off as a joke. Here it takes on a whole other pretense, the warmth in his breath palpable, voice a low rumble in the dark. It's enough to send a shiver down his back. 

"That right?" Teasingly, he tilts his head. "I don't know. You haven't really given me an answer." Downstairs, the murmuring grows louder. Pop, then the hiss of champagne flowing free to fill to the brim. Someone dials up the volume of the television, and the announcer's booms are muffled by the walls. A little over three hours away, Times Square hums with anticipation. From a bird's eye view, the sprawl of city lights would look like a dizzying blur of stars, bright against the thin, nocturnal chill. 

All that, and through the thick haze of his inebriated state, sinks the realization, we’re alone now. His lips are the closest they’ve been, light against the line of his jaw. His heartbeat echoes loud in his ears. 

“The floor’s too far.” 

Slowly, Joonho’s hands trail up to cup his cheek, the full weight of his stare unmoving. 

Downstairs, the countdown begins. Ten, Nine, Eight. 

Half moon eyes, full mouth. The room begins to fade out. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

JOOHYUK

what is it about this time of year? the weather? the holiday magic? the restlessness of having too much to do but not enough to finish, all at the same time? earlier in the day he couldn't possibly stay still, but now he can barely remember to breathe.

Seven. Six.

"guess you'll never get a proper answer." a question without a resolution, a night that feels too long, a countdown that's steadily ending. it's like he's just been completely submerged in water. everything is muffled--the sound of party-goers probably stampeding to crowd around the tv, the names of absent friends being called frantically--he thinks he might have heard theirs at some point, too.

"there's more important things to worry about." joohyuk feels sluggish, his heart's pounding but his limbs almost seem locked into place. is he losing his courage? his cool? maybe he shouldn't have offered in the first place if he wasn't ready for each and every potential response.

'the floor's too far.'

Five. Four.

but then--clarity. with joonho fully settles in between his thighs, his legs wrap around, heels tugging him close. close enough until there's no room left to separate them. "you're so close." he murmurs it while melting into joonho's palm cupping his cheek. "you're better than anyone downstairs, wouldn't want it any other way." he always did talk too much. "happy early new year, babe." a stuttering exhale, and he surges up to meet joonho halfway.

joohyuk wonders if joonho can taste the smile on his lips.

JOONHO

Up until now, he's held it all in. Every pipe dream, every what if, every hint of wishful thinking that surfaces in the wakeful hours closed away, out of sight, out of mind.

But his imagination has never come anywhere close to this. He almost doesn't believe it—this proximity, the feel of Joohyuk's skin, and this possibility that unfurls between them, nocturnal and blooming slow under moonglow and the warmth of their breaths.

"I won't push for one, then." 

 Three, 

The chanting grows, the anticipation building beneath their feet. Outside, the spectators step into the street, one by one, eyes to the sky in wait. The first few whistles are set off in the distance, but none of the matters. Not when they're like this, right here, right now.

Joonho leans in close.

Two,

"So are you." 

Their lips touch. 

One. 

All around, it erupts into celebration, cheer and pure jubilation in a ring of echoes. The fireworks go off singing, bursting into blue and gold against the endless sky.

Angling his head, Joonho presses closer, closer than close, reveling in the pulse of it all for what it's worth. He feels the grin on Joohyuk's lips and smiles back, in sheer delight. His heart soars. 

Happy New Year's. 

[FIN]

[riveires]

the pros and cons of breathing

@twentysixdegrees

JOOHYUK

the sheets are too scratchy, his pillow is too hard. maybe he should have heeded his older sister’s advice about investing in high quality sleep materials. or, maybe it’s because joonho’s desk light had still been on until about thirty minutes ago? but that’d never really been a problem before. joohyuk could really sleep anywhere if he was tired enough–so maybe he simply wasn’t tired enough. if that’s the case, then he finds himself going stir crazy in his bed and he turns on his side towards joonho.

“hhhhhey. joooooonho.” blinking a few times, he frowns when his roommate doesn’t respond right away. “i know you’re not asleep yet–no way you’re asleep yet–” and he’s soon rewarded with a small, acknowledging, sound.

with that in mind, joohyuk flings his covers off of his body, tugging one of the sheet corners out of his basketball shorts (how’d that even happen?). joohyuk pads over to joonho quietly, the gap between their beds easily covered in about 4 steps.

“my mattress is slumpy.” sitting down on the very edge of joonho’s bed, joohyuk finds himself quickly losing his courage. “i’ll put in a maintenance request tomorrow but can i just…?”

my bed isn’t comfortable without you.

JOONHO

Statistically speaking, how the next morning will go splits down 50-50 by the outcomes: will or won’tㅡpassing this goddamn test that is. On one hand, the painfully borderline B- should provide enough willpower to push for the odds to turn in his favor. But an hour in, the digits flipping to a late 11:30 see to eyes glazed over and a head bobbing barely inches above high water, swamped by formulas Joonho’s long given up on. The switch clicks off. Here’s to another day done, at lastㅡ

Until it isn’t

He thinks Joohyuk would beg to differㅡthat technically, it’s never really over until it has to be, like it’s some intangible notion out of human reach, and day isn’t quite day when the sun’s long sunk below the waves for full moon glory. That the night is still young. And yet it’s just thatㅡan assumption. There’s no telling what goes on in his head for sure.

But what he does know is this: the thoughts that bloom bright in the back of his own mind all hummingbird-frenzy, the palpable nearness of Joohyuk even when he’s not there, and the faint thud deep in the swell of his chest when he is. With his heart in his throat, he’s careful to not make a sound. Not right now, anyway. And thenㅡ

“What…?” Joonho shifts to glance at him over his shoulder, a slow show of “act natural.” Thud. Thud. He’s suddenly thankful for the dark, where the other boy can’t see him considering two sides of the coin.

50-50. Will, or won’t.

A sigh. Quiet surrender. “Fine.” Reluctance is a hesitant motion, where he gives just the tiniest bit of space, a third of the second pillow,  and then finally half of the whole bed. He lifts up the blanket. Thud, thud, thud.

“Get in here.” 

JOOHYUK

people measure their time in minutes or seconds, or even in heartbeats if you’re feeling romantic, but right now the only way he manages to measure is by the slow rise of blood to his face. it flushed around his collarbones when he made the decision to get out of bed. it rose up to his neck when he asked, and in that almost immeasurable time between his last syllable and joonho’s answer, the blush has risen almost to his ears. next time don’t even take the chance, he scolds inside his head before the “fine” reaches him properly. he’s almost ready to flee the scene, to jokingly complain about joonho’s own mattress (’maybe we both should file for new ones–’) until the weight of his answer fully settles.

he feels joonho shifting before he turns around to see. and then he’s relaxing his muscles–the ones that freeze up when you’re in situation as close to fight or flight as you can get in in a shared dorm room with one of your oldest friends.

yeah, it sounds just as ridiculous to him, too.

but it’s what he’s working with, and joohyuk is incredibly conscious of this when he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and starts to shuffle his way into the already warm covers, facing joonho (because he’s feeling ballsy). joohyuk pulls the covers up above his shoulders, shifting closer to joonho in the process. he’s incredibly aware of the fact that they’re two fully-sized college students shoved into a bed meant for one.

“can’t believe you almost left me in the cold.” he injects a tinge of drama into his voice. he wears the shield well, and it’s never failed him before. “in the cold with a lumpy mattress.” but he’s not a heathen–joohyuk keeps his voice low so as to not offend the tranquility of the night. “thanks though. i hope i wasn’t too distracting while you were studying i…just couldn’t seem to fall asleep.”

he continues to work the angle of the malformed mattress because the tossing and turning was definitely due to those reasons. they certainly didn’t have anything to do with the missing equation of a familiar body, or the slow crescendo of longing that starts somewhere close to his head and ends in his head. “is tonight a sleep immediately night or a talk then drift night?” apparently, those factors were strong enough to prompt a rebellion; logic against some sappy, whiny, need. and joohyuk was always shit with his impulse control. “cause if it’s a talk and drift, why didn’t you go out on that second date with…what’s her face?”

case and point.

JOONHO

“I know."

It’s an answer meant to match him, exasperated and droll to Joohyuk’s overdone means to appear moving. Double entendre for: can’t believe I hadn’t, sitting at the tip of his tongue, as he lays still, arms crossed. Minutes to midnight with the lights off, and no easing into the swell of slumber. Instead, this feels more like he’s dreaming with his eyes wide open. Low brows, the high slope of his nose, mouth softenedㅡall the makings of a boy that he’s known for more than half his life.

One that doesn’t seem ready to fall asleep either.

"Well,” begins with a huff, and it’s probably the most amused he’s sounded all evening, but stops short. It’s a turn he hadn’t seen coming.

“You mean Shirin?”

Canton born and raised, Yale-bound for a future Ph.D in economics. Or something. Something like that. Shirin. He fills the blanks in memory with details that had made for a better impression. In the span of a 90 minutes, she’d revealed a knack for storytellingㅡthe backwoods of some  obscure Midwest suburb to downtown London in a span of breaths, to the garlic-and-lemon-splashed sauté on their plates, to all the lessons to be learned from everything and nothing. At one point, he’d even glanced at her hands, then folding the napkin into a triangle, had become fully convinced right there she could make entire mountains out of the damn thing if she wanted to.

But more than that,  Joonho had been compelled to envy. Envious of how she takes to language so effortlessly, lets it tail her rather than the other way around. For the longest time, he thought he could do without—until then. When every tangent over lunch sent him back to the receding form of another through the doorway earlier that morning. Until now, on his side, close but not close enough to break the even distance. A dip in the bed makes for a small valley. Words fail to float, follow free. Little rivers to nowhere.

“I…got busy, I guess. Dunno.” A shrug, as if he’s finally come around to the admission. (But to what?) His cheek lifts to rest against the bend of his own elbow. There’s something different about the way he speaks now, tinged careful. “What about you and that other girl?”

JOOHYUK

Joohyuk’s always been a needy sort of person, ever since they were young. It was cute as a little kid, over-excited and bad at keeping his mouth shut. Looking back on it, he doesn’t understand how Joonho stuck it out with him, all the way up until he’d moved. He’s leveled out considerably, but he knows some people s still find him to be a little much.

Sometimes he feels a little bad, even now. It feels like Joohyuk’s always asking favors from Joonho. He’s been comforting since they were young, and Joohyuk’s always found him almost magnetic.

Comforting, magnetic. They’re some of the reasons why he always ends up so close.

It takes him a second. “Huh?” His first reaction is confusion, until he thinks back on his most recent date. His face morphs, mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape as he realizes. “Ángel.”

The former roommate of his current teammate, and unfortunately it was one of those instances of ‘Oh I have a friend who’s gay. I can set you up with him?’ By now Joohyuk is used to these sort of things. They’re well-meaning, and they really do come from a good place, but it’s still rooted in stereotypes. He’s not attracted to anyone and everyone, but something had compelled him to say ‘sure.’

Ángel was that old money sort of rich. They had more similarities than Joohyuk thought originally possible, given how different their backgrounds were, but not enough to inspire any real connection. He’d been a good listener, but was the type that only listened so he could one-up you with his next sentence. The worst part was that he probably didn’t mean to do it; he was probably trying to just seem impressive, but Joohyuk wasn’t interested in any of that by the third date. That’s some first date bull. And don’t even get him started on how picturesque his life seemed. Big house, lots of land, his was a family that had a professional photographer come to their home to take posed family pictures. Can’t relate.

Joohyuk can feel the covers shift the slightest, each breath moving Joonho’s shoulders and by extension, the blankets. “He wanted someone who was…like, gonna look at him with stars in their eyes. Constantly. It was exhausting to smile and nod at him so often. He was draining.”

And then, “I’m cold.”

Something compels him to keep talking, even though he knows he should probably quit it now before his mouth got him in trouble. “Unlike you.”

JOONHO

“Oh.” Only the smallest sound of surprise. "That Ángel. I’m sorry, man.“ Disappointment by now has dulled into something ritualistic, having and not wanted, wanting and not had. How many more names until they’d land upon the right one?

Joohyuk. Joohyuk. It’s not just a name anymore. It’s something bigger, brighter. In each other’s rooms, July moon glow, curtains dancing slow-motion under the quiet whirring of the fan. Promises between peals of laughter: swear on it, okay, we’re gonna do it, okay dude, okay, we will. Somehow all that summer heat managed to follow them from then to here. Or maybe it’s just him, under the spell of nostalgia and nostalgia alone. Nothing in the vein of the abstract he knows—formulas, unit-bound constants, theories of matter, a total wash. So what now.

“This sucks.” He’s on his back now, eyes to the ceiling, no fan in sight. Then a breathless laugh: “Maybe we’re not cut out for the people here. They’re too…” What’s the word? He has it, then doesn’t. Going, going, gone. Don’t chase what you can’t get back. “I don’t think it’s good to be with them for anything more.”

Homesick? Joonho’s hardly the type to catch something like that, but one look at him has him thinkingㅡfeelingㅡnonetheless. All those years until it hadn’t been.

But he should know better than anyone: thinking doesn’t get anyone anywhere. Not when there’s your hands, your anticipation, the pause before your first move.

Hovering, his head and shoulders cast a shadow over the other as he changes position. His expression is along the lines of disbelief, brows furrowing deep. “You have more than half the bed, Joohyuk.” But even then, despite then, he pulls the blanket close, his own body closer. His heart skips a beat and he has to fight the impulse to bury his face under the covers goddamnit, goddamnit.

“Christ.“  

JOOHYUK 

“It’s fine.” His eyes open, staring at the hand that’s settled near his face on the pillow. He pointedly avoids looking at Joonho. “He’s just another one, right? Another fling in the string of them.” And why is it that neither of them have found anyone even remotely close to being compatible enough? Joohyuk knows his faults, he’s tried dating based on opposite, based on similarities, based off of something as silly as zodiac signs, even. Nothing’s worked.

The girl before Ángel had broken up with him because she’d accused him of choosing Joonho over her. But that’s unfair, right? Joonho’s been there since day one. He shouldn’t need to choose, but if had to, it’d be Joonho without fail, every time.

Always.

“Sometimes, being here makes me homesick.” The admission comes as a surprise to even himself. He can’t properly decipher his feelings, right now isn’t a good time for trying to do so. He’s too vulnerable, Joonho is too close, and the night is too comforting. Joohyuk can feel himself slipping, sliding, and he should be worried about falling too far down but he can’t seem to muster up the care. It’s easier to swim deeper; sometimes it’s easier to just give in. “But that’s stupid, right? Cause you’re here. And you’re home.”

Nestling into the covers, he sighs, eyes closing to give himself a little extra push of courage. His hand snakes over Joonho’s waist, and they’re facing each other but he’s got his eyes closed. So this isn’t anything more than just mutual comfort. “Just because I have half the bed doesn’t mean I’m any warmer.” But he is. Where his arm touches the fabric of Joonho’s waist, it scorches. Where his hand curls, fingertips gently brushing against the small of Joonho’s back, he burns.

“But it’s okay, you’re warm. Why’re you so far away anyways? Quit acting like a stranger.”

Joohyuk makes the mistake of opening his eyes. His words are a lie. They’re entirely too close, nose almost brushing against Joonho’s. “We should date. You’re the only one that can handle my shit.” And I know how to make you happy.

He laughs quietly, nervously. Joonho looks so handsome under the filtered moonlight. “Kidding.”

JOONHO

Try, try again. If that isn’t the most common case of “been there, done that,” he can’t imagine what else could possibly compare.

But it doesn’t matter.

Where the other’s eyes open, his own close. Breathing in, counting out the pace of each exhale. The effect is calming, makes the fluttering in his stomach slow a little if not completely. Seoul is more vivid like this, painted with obvious care and affection. Childhood through the maze of alleyways. Memories of days longer than they are now. Or at least, they feel like that. Pure, unapologetic emotion, no matter which way he spins itㅡthe sprawl of the Atlantic on one side, the way Joohyuk reaches over to hold him on the other.

Shying away would’veㅡshould’veㅡbeen the first impulse. The instinctual panic. The racing of pulses. It had been like that, once. Now no longer. He moves to his touch, instead, the pull stemming not from the throws of gravity but from the center of his chest.

Proximity makes a good excuse for a change: that there’s nowhere else for his gaze to trail off to, but he keeps his constraint. Baby steps. Untilㅡ

“That’sㅡ” The first time anyone’s said that.

“The stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

What had he been undone with? A single syllable, or a single possibility?

“Whatever.” Unfolding his arms, he draws the covers up to his nose. “I’m going to sleep.”

Turns out it’s neither. Behind it all is just a single boy. From the butterflies that stir in his wake to the careful hands that hold both halves of his heart. And he doesn’t know even know it.

But Joonho’s smiling anyway, ear to ear. Hope is funny like that, funnier in the kind that comes with floating on cloud nine. Kidding, he’d said. I know, he’d thought after. Everything else in the state of the unspoken, set adrift, waiting. Still waiting.

For another day, then.

“You should too.”

JOOHYUK

The pull of sleep is tempting his eyes closed, coaxing his breathing into deeper pulls, slower exhales. It’s that floaty, weightless, state in between awake and asleep, where you can feel everything around you but it seems like you’re watching from afar. Funny how he’d been absolutely unable to fall asleep before, but now all it takes is a few minutes of teasing fondness, sappy confessions, and meanings between words. Joohyuk doesn’t so much reply to Joonho’s accusations of limited intelligence, as he rumbles out an acknowledging sound. Sticks and stones, and whatchamacallits. Too many words to get out properly.

Still, he feebly fights against the sleep that bleeds closer to his core, trying to fall asleep after Joonho does. It’s not so much a dominance thing rather than a nervousness that he’s going to say something silly, take a thought too far, or perhaps be too honest out loud. “Whatever,” he barely manages to echo out, the word low and drawling, as if his brain is winding down before it shuts off completely. “I’ll sleep, I’ll sleep.” His voice shifts closer to a whine, tired of trying to stay awake, tired of holding back, and most of all, tired of being this close but being unable to do anything more than this.

Seven billion people in the world and he knows that soulmates don’t necessarily have to be lovers. They can be best friends too. But with Joonho this close, Joohyuk doesn’t know where best friend ends and lover begins.

He voices his drifting train of thought in the vaguest way possible.

“You still love me though.”

And that will just have to do, for now.

[FIN]