Chapter Text
I think when we love we look for someone against whom to say: But I am like this.
— Sofia Samatar, The Winged Histories
It’s raining on the day Jay’s life falls apart. A sudden storm, heavy and warm, appearing out of the blue in the way things often do in the summer.
Jungwon tastes the first drop of rain as they walk outside together, tilting his face up to the murky grey sky to catch some more. Jay just stares at him for a second.
“Should we run?” Jungwon asks, wiping away a raindrop. He smiles, and that’s when Jay knows the answer, the heartbeat of yes yes yes ringing through his chest.
So they run, and they keep running, sneakers slapping down against the wet pavement. Laughing with the giddiness of it—as if they’re playing tag, as if they’re invincible again—until they arrive under the awning at the front of Jay’s house.
There’s a moment where the chill settles in—where Jungwon watches him as he fumbles with the keys to unlock the front door—and then they’re safe, they’re inside the warm comfort of Jay’s home, and even if Jay’s shirt clings to his skin he knows the promise of dry clothing is near.
Jungwon turns to him, smiling with his dimples on display. “We made it.”
Jay wants to hold that smile deep within him, let it soak into his skin just like the rainwater, and become a part of himself.
He exhales. “Yes, we did.” His hair is wet and dripping onto the floor. Jungwon grins at him; he's exactly the same—t-shirt plastered to his skin, skin shining slightly.
Jay's house is warm and dry in contrast to the raging thunderstorm outside. Jay can't register anything, really, besides how thoroughly soaked he feels. Drowned out, and uncomfortable—he only notices it now, and he’d ignored it before. He'd been too focused on Jungwon, he supposes.
That's happening more and more nowadays. Jay thinks about the university forms he still has yet to complete, the move-in checklist he's barely looked at yet. All those things that had been abandoned by the wayside for this.
"Hey, are you even listening?" Jungwon waves a hand in front of his face. "You were zoned out for a moment."
Jay blinks, and then he realizes Jungwon's standing closer to him than he thought. When Jay pushes Jungwon's hand away, Jungwon merely holds on tighter, intertwining their fingers. Jungwon's fingers are cold and damp like the rest of him.
"Your hands are so warm," Jungwon marvels, grabbing onto Jay's other palm as well. He looks at Jay with the weight of expectation that Jay isn't quite sure if he can carry. He lets go of Jungwon's hands gently.
Jungwon is—
He's a lot. A lot more than Jay could have ever predicted when Jungwon stepped into his house that first time—more astute and unpredictable, vivid and lovely. He's been noticing it recently, just how lovely Jungwon is, but he doesn't know how to connect all the discrete hints to form a picture he wants to see.
"Jay."
Thunder rumbles all around them. The house creaks.
"Jungwon."
Jungwon leans forward, and then they're kissing. They're kissing, and it's not particularly good, but Jay doesn't want to stop—and Jungwon reaches up to cup the back of Jay's neck, eager, tries to bring him closer. It's only once Jay feels the cold dampness of Jungwon's fingers against his skin that he remembers, realizes—
Jay pulls away. His hands are shaking, and it's not from the cold. Jungwon is mere inches away from him, impossible to ignore, eyes wide and curious. Jay has thought of kissing Jungwon before, but there’s a difference between thinking of something and making it real. A difference between a passing wish and an action he can’t take back.
"That was nice." Jungwon's starting to smile, a small, tentative thing like a flower blooming in ice, and Jay needs to stop this before Jungwon's expectations are taken too far. Before Jay forgets that this is just one summer.
"No." Jay watches Jungwon's smile fracture off his face in small increments. "Jungwon, we can't…”
Jungwon's entirely serious now. "What's stopping us?" he asks, a challenge.
"We shouldn’t," Jay corrects himself. More lightning outside the windows, and Jungwon startles at it.
Jungwon opens his mouth, seemingly ready to protest before he closes it again. They stare at each other, tense: a moment locked in time. Jay can still remember the taste of Jungwon's mouth on his, and that knowledge burns in him like a brand on his skin.
"Fine, then," Jungwon says eventually. He's the first to turn away.
Then, just as calmly, just as collected, Jungwon reaches past Jay and wrenches the front door open again. Unmuffled by the door, the storm hails down loud and fierce and screeching.
Without any hesitation, Jungwon steps outside into the pouring rain. Jay watches him leave.
And for a moment, there, Jay wonders how it all went wrong.
It’s been less than a week since they’ve moved into the new house and Jay already misses his friends. A normal Monday morning, and he’d be desperately cramming in the last bits of breakfast while Heeseung, his best friend, honked impatiently from his driveway. A normal Monday morning, and he’d have a whole day ahead of him to spend with his friends.
But school’s out now; Jay received his diploma just last Thursday, cap and gown and all. And then the move had happened. Of course, the move, which Jay had seen coming—his parents were never good at lowering their voices while arguing—but still took him by surprise nonetheless.
“This is fucking terrible timing, you know,” Heeseung had pointed out. He held onto his graduation cap by the tassel then started swinging it back and forth idly.
Jay watched its trajectory closely. It was easier than looking at Heeseung’s face as he spoke. “What do you mean? It’s perfect timing.” Or so it was for his parents, at least.
“I’ve finished school, so there’s nothing else…” Nothing else keeping us here. Jay glanced up at Heeseung’s face, stopped in his tracks by the blatant hurt displayed there.
It had been awkward, to say the least, those last premature goodbyes. The sharp jut of Heeseung’s shoulders as Jay hugged him for the last time, Taehyun blinking rapidly to stave off the tears and Kai crying openly. They hadn’t been as close as they used to be, but that can’t erase the decade all of them spent in school together.
Jay knew that it could’ve been worse, though. His parents had never been fond of the town where Jay grew up, and the recent tax hikes hadn’t helped matters. He was lucky he finished out high school in the same place for all four years. But there’s a difference between knowing the facts and being able to side with his parents wholeheartedly, and he has to be honest—right now, Jay hates his parents just a little bit. For taking away his senior year summer plans with Heeseung just like that, for moving to this sleepy retirement neighborhood where Jay hasn’t spotted a single kid his age—or anyone under twenty, honestly—yet.
There’s only two and a half months of summer left, and he can’t wait for them to pass him by. It’s just a liminal interlude in his life, forgettable and brief, before Jay embarks on a new journey in college. Nothing’s going to happen.
But then he meets a boy.
Jay doesn’t think much of Jungwon Yang at first. It’ll make him laugh when he looks back on it, because it truly shows how little first impressions even matter. He wonders if it’s even possible to look at someone when meeting them and just know—know what they’ll mean to you, know what impact they’ll have on your life. Right now, he’s completely clueless.
Jay doesn’t think much of Jungwon at first. He shows up at Jay’s doorstep on the eve of the sixth day of their move—Jay’s been keeping a steadfast count—holding a container of japchae in his hands, his grandmother standing behind him. Jay will come to know a lot of things about them: that they comprise the only other Korean family in the neighborhood, that Jungwon has an older sister away at a summer internship, that Jungwon is sixteen and loves the sun singing on his skin.
But at this moment, Jay can only see what’s in front of him. The boy and his nervous-creased khaki shorts, the way he dresses like someone else had chosen the clothes for him. The boy and his wide eyes as he takes Jay in.
It turns out they had come over for dinner, at the invitation of Jay’s parents. The meal is a strange affair, at this new house and with these new people.
Jungwon stays silent unless addressed, deferential and bland as he responds to Jay's parents' questions in Korean: yes, he's going into his junior year of high school; no, he's not sure if he wants to do computer science like his sister.
Normally, at a dinner like this, Jay would start some side conversation with Heeseung, shooting shit about whatever in English after fielding the usual formalities with the parents. But Jungwon just seems so… different from the other Korean kids Jay knows. Everyone’s a bit more uptight around adults, but not to this extent.
It’s only after a question about Jungwon’s friends is asked that a crack in Jungwon’s perfect facade shows.
“There aren’t a lot of kids in this neighborhood, now that Jeongwoo moved,” Jungwon says. He falters, shooting a glance over at Jay. “Especially not our age.”
Jay recognizes something in that brief glance, something he hadn’t understood while clocking Jungwon’s wide-eyed fascination earlier. An echo of the loneliness Jay’s experiencing, not the exact same type but similar enough—like a melody modulated to a new key, different notes to a familiar song.
Jay’s mom smiles indulgently. “It’s good that Jay’s here, then,” she says.
Jay winces at the obvious maneuvering, and Jungwon’s smile looks equally strained. They make eye contact, a shared moment of oh god this is so embarrassing, and that’s when it clicks for Jay.
He realizes, then, that pretty much his only shot at companionship for the summer lies in this sixteen-year-old boy. It’s a strange feeling. He knows that if he was back home—at his real home, where he grew up, not this quiet neighborhood—they wouldn’t have any reason to know each other.
But right now, Jay’s trying to cope with the cards he’s been dealt.
So after the plates have been cleared, Jungwon’s grandmother moving to sit in the living room with his parents, Jay turns to Jungwon. It’s late, but the summertime type of late, which means that the sky is still bright blue outside. The sun won’t set for another hour or so.
“Wanna go on a walk?” Jay asks. He still hasn’t finished settling in his room, and he isn’t sure how well he’ll get to know Jungwon within earshot of his parents.
Jay’s pretty sure that’s an expression of relief as Jungwon says, “Sure.”
It’s beautiful outside, beautiful in a way Jay doesn’t want to appreciate.
Jay had already scoped out the neighborhood one time, dragged outside by his parents, and he has to admit that it has something going for it in the way his old home didn’t. He’d used to live in an overcrowded suburb, crammed with families hoping to get in on the good public schools there. Here, the houses have actual lawns instead of yard-wide patches of grass, each mailbox spaced far apart. Here, the streets are quiet with barely any cars passing by, nothing like the busy main road Jay used to drive on with Heeseung to get to school.
He looks over at Jungwon, then. Jay likes meeting new people, honestly—there’s something about the stiltedness of trying to get to know another person, mind roving for new questions to ask and ways to twist the conversation into entertaining directions, that’s almost a welcome challenge. But Jungwon’s also hard to read, his face so perfectly impassive as he answered those questions at dinner.
Jay starts off small. “Who’s Jeongwoo?” he asks, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk. “You said—he was your age?”
“He moved.” Jungwon’s squinting because of the sun, and Jay can’t tell if his frown is just from the bright light or something else entirely. “He used to live in your house, actually.”
“Oh.” Jay tries to imagine how he’d feel if something like that had happened with Heeseung and winces. Nothing like being a walking reminder of Jeongwoo’s absence. “Uh, sorry?”
Jungwon gives him a strange look at that. “It’s not like it’s your fault,” he says. “He always wanted to leave.”
“What about you?” Jay finds himself asking. “Do you want to leave?” As he says this, they reach the small recreational area at the end of the street, a small clustering of benches alongside a poorly maintained field dotted with dandelions and a rusty swing set.
“No. I mean—I don’t know,” Jungwon replies. He sits on one of the swings, kicks his legs out absently. “I guess it might seem boring here, compared to where you lived before, but it’s pretty nice.”
Jay sits down, too, hands gripping onto the chains, but he doesn’t start pumping his legs just yet. “Maybe you should show me around, then,” he says impulsively. “Show me what’s good to see around here.” Anything’s better than staying stuck at home, bored and tethered to his friends only through late-night Discord voice calls.
Jungwon skids to a stop, sneakers dragging against the wood chips underneath. He gives Jay a wide-eyed look, and it reminds him of the way Jay had felt when he had opened his front door to Jungwon’s family just a couple hours ago. Like he’s being faced with something completely new, unpredictable.
“Unless you’re busy,” Jay rushes to add, feeling a little sheepish. His summers before his senior year had been prized real estate, a blank space with which to fill prestigious “internships” and summer programs. Now, it’s almost as if he has too much free time, and an impending sense of doom as the days pass by—like he’s wasting some precious resource without even knowing.
Jungwon’s smiling at him now, a tentative, small thing. “I volunteer at the hospital some days, but I’m pretty free outside of that,” he says. An open invitation if Jay’s ever heard one.
Jay roots through his pockets and pulls out his phone. “What’s your number, then?” he asks. “Text me.”
And this is how it starts.
“Are we just going to the playground again?” Jay asks. They’re walking the same path that they had the day before, and it’s the same time of day, too: the beautiful bright sky dotted with wispy clouds, the textbook definition of perfect weather.
Jungwon gives him a look. “No, it’s better than that,” he says confidently, not offering any explanation outside of that. And instead of stopping by the playground swings as they had done last time, Jungwon leads him along the back fence of the lot, where cut grass meets forest.
“There’s a trail.” Jungwon points to a narrow clearing between the trees in front of them. “It’s—I like it here.”
Entering the forest feels like entering another world. Once they’re a couple of paces along, the sounds of the neighborhood—the buzz of lawnmowers, the whirring sprinklers, an occasional car zooming by—peter off into nothing. It’s not silence, not exactly; the forest seems to thrum with an invisible heartbeat, something that lives more in Jay's chest than his ears. But there is a hushed, warm nature to it—like the loving, gentle part of a mother's embrace.
"Do you go here often?" Jay asks, following Jungwon along the footpath. It isn't marked by anything but a couple of stray streaks of red paint every few trees, and the trail itself is barely worn enough to be distinguishable.
"Sometimes." Jay senses that there's something more behind that curt answer. Something that maybe Jungwon doesn't want to share with him quite yet. Jay has the whole summer to figure it out, he supposes.
He glances up, then stops in his tracks. The leafy canopy above blocks most of the light, but there are bits and pieces where the sky comes through. It casts everything in muted shadows. Then he looks along the path, into the distance. All he can view are tree trunks, no horizon in sight. "Where does this go?"
Jungwon stops, too, turning back to look at him. "If you walk far enough? The next town over, probably. I've never got to the end of it, though."
"Oh, cool." Jay starts walking again, still distracted by how eerie everything seems up above. So distracted, in fact, that he trips and stumbles over a tree root. "Shit."
"You okay?" Jungwon faces him again, reaching out to grasp Jay's shoulder. His warm hand steadies Jay for a moment, his smile even warmer. "Pretty clumsy, huh?"
"Yeah. Oh my god," Jay says, just a little embarrassed. And oddly pleased, too, to see Jungwon’s smile come out after all of this. "Whatever, it's fine." A stubbed toe hurts a weird amount, the type where it isn't that painful but it's still damn annoying.
From then on, they walk side by side. The path is narrow, but it's more convenient this way. Or so Jungwon says, eyes crinkling with mirth as he remarks wouldn't want you to trip and actually hurt yourself—
Jay doesn’t mind being teased; he’s always been able to forsake saving face over getting along with others. And if this is what can break the ice between them, so be it.
They start off slow:
“What are you going to major in?” Jungwon asks. His shoulder brushes up against Jay’s briefly, a side effect of the narrow path.
Jay doesn’t mind the touch, doesn’t think anything of it, actually. “I applied for chemistry,” he replies.
“The way you said that,” Jungwon begins. He stops and gives Jay a considering look. “Do you like it, though?”
Jay has thought about this before, but something about the weight of Jungwon’s gaze leaves him turning over half-memorized answers in his brain, searching for something new—and more true—to offer.
“It’s fine,” he says, looking up at the trees again. “It’ll be a lot different from high school chem, but—I like it.” And that’s true enough.
Jungwon hums at that. “What if you had a second life?” he asks. “What then?”
“Ah, I don’t know, let me think,” Jay says. Even as he speaks, an answer forms at the top of his lips, a little hesitant to escape—it’s always been difficult to keep from wearing his passions on his sleeve, but this feels especially personal. He lowers his gaze from the canopy above, finally brings himself back to the ground. “I have an idea, but…”
“But what?” Jungwon prompts.
“Don’t laugh,” Jay warns, averting his eyes from Jungwon’s face. “But I guess it would be fashion.”
“Fashion?” Jungwon echoes. “Like, designing clothes?” He doesn’t sound judgmental or critical, just curious—that same open curiosity that Jay had sensed all of yesterday.
“Yeah, that,” Jay replies. Part of him wants to launch into an explanation of why he likes it so much, what exactly makes fashion so fascinating to him, but— “What about you? I know it’s early, but is there anything you like doing?” He’d rather find out more about Jungwon first.
“Not really.” Jungwon turns his face away from Jay, so that Jay can’t read his expression—not that Jay would be able to decipher it properly anyway. “I don’t know.”
“That’s okay,” Jay says, hoping it comes off as genuinely reassuring instead of patronizing. He remembers being sixteen, consumed by self-doubt and confusion. All the things he knew then, all that he’d soon come to learn. “You have time to figure things out.”
For the past week, Jay had spent his nights on Discord, voice-calling his friends from home while alternating between video games. This is the first night he does something different—lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in between exchanging messages with Jungwon.
Jungwon, of course, doesn’t have a Discord. Jay has half a mind to ask him to make one, but it’s only their first night texting like this. Who knows whether Jungwon will talk to him like this, at length, again.
He’s also different from Jay’s friends in other ways. The only thing they agree on is their shared interest in badminton—when Jay tries to bring up favorite TV shows or movies, all are met with some measure of disinterest. Not in him, just the material. The first thing to spark an actual reaction is when Jay tries to come up with a favorite book.
When Jungwon sends him a string of question marks, followed by Really? That’s your favorite book?, Jay knows that he’s hit the jackpot.
i dont deserve this slander!! whats urs though, Jay sends in reply almost immediately. Jungwon proceeds to type for so long that Jay wonders if his wi-fi connection has lagged or something.
from: Jungwon
The Little Prince when I was younger
But in terms of something I read recently hmm
That's sort of hard to decide
from: Jay
i didnt know u were so into reading
from: Jungwon
I'm not
Are you free tomorrow
Jay realizes just how much Jungwon had downplayed his interest in books when he drags Jay to the local bookstore. It’s not that Jay doesn’t like reading, but most niche fashion books aren’t readily available at in-person stores. He’s more likely to order such things online.
Jungwon clearly has an entirely different approach to books. He strides up to the door confidently, pushing open the door with a wide smile and saying "Watch your step!" over his shoulder.
Jay, while entering, barely manages to avoid stumbling over the sudden difference in elevation when he steps inside.
The front table displays all the “hot and new” bestsellers, the sort of books whose titles Jay's seen name-dropped but he doesn't actually know anything about. Jungwon walks straight past those novels and deep into the depths of the store, where the shelves get even more cramped due to lack of space.
Jay hasn't been to a bookstore in ages—the last time he'd been was on vacation because that was where the closest wi-fi hotspot had been located at the time. Even so, he's honestly more fascinated with Jungwon's reactions to things than the actual shop itself. There's a sense of open wonder in Jungwon's expression as he walks slowly between the shelves, fingers trailing over the spines. It’s something new, something he hasn’t seen in Jungwon yet before.
"Is there anything you're looking for?" Jay asks.
Jungwon doesn't look up. "Not really," he says, pausing by a certain bookcase. "If I see something cool, I might get it." Jay checks the end of the case, and it's labeled with Travel Guides and Tourism Books. Riveting, he supposes.
"Sorry if this is boring," Jungwon adds, glancing up at Jay briefly. "But—"
"It's not," Jay interjects quickly. He's content with trailing after Jungwon, seeing this side of him.
The only spot where Jungwon bothers to pause and flip through novels is the Used Books section, all the way in the back. It's mostly classics here—that, and old-looking books that Jay has never heard of, the type he assumes are too irrelevant to be deemed classics.
"Here," Jungwon says, pushing a book into Jay's hands. Insistent and confident instead of quiet. "You should read this."
"Why this one especially?" Jay turns the book over in his hands. It's a hardcover copy, but the book sleeve has long been lost to time. The pages alternate a little bit in length so that when Jay runs his finger over the thickness of the book, it ruffles under his fingers.
"It's really good," Jungwon replies, before launching into an explanation of exactly what he means. Jay had thought that the text messages were a lot, but this—this enthusiasm is something else entirely.
Jungwon is bright-eyed in front of him, hands moving as he explains himself, loose bangs falling in front of his forehead. Jay gets the sudden urge to reach out and sweep them to the side, wants to grasp onto that golden energy and savor it himself.
And it's in that moment, while Jungwon is explaining the merits of one of his favorite books, while Jungwon is surrounded by the things that he clearly loves, that Jay realizes: Jungwon is cute. It isn't something Jay had thought about at all before. But now that he's noticed, he can't unsee it—Jungwon's cuteness.
Jay doesn't know what to make of it, any of this. So instead he listens to Jungwon's explanation, nodding at all the right moments, and buys the book before they leave the store.
“I’m not into reading, you said,” Jay recounts as he starts the car. He can’t help but feel a little amused at Jungwon, right now. He holds onto that feeling, focuses on it—better than the alternative. “I didn’t know you could be this excited.”
Jungwon makes a face at that. “It’s not serious or anything,” he says, and Jay knows Jungwon better now—knows that Jungwon’s lips are shaped around a lie.
“You sounded pretty serious to me, back in the store,” Jay replies.
“Whatever.” Maybe Jay pushed too hard, too soon, for Jungwon closes up a little after that. Jay glances over at him when he stops at a red light, taking in the way Jungwon’s lips are pressed together. Not displeased, just pensive. That’s okay, Jay thinks. He can let things unfold as they will—gradually, with time.
He’s usually the impatient one, but there’s something here that makes him want to savor every moment.
Turns out that there isn’t much to explore in their small town. After a couple of afternoons exploring cafes, yet another trail, and the historical section of the neighboring town, they end up right where they started: at the dilapidated soccer field, Jungwon carrying badminton rackets and a shuttlecock with him.
But Jungwon’s clearly a lot more comfortable with him now, considering how often he ribs Jay as they play.
“I thought you went to the badminton club every week,” Jungwon teases. They aren’t keeping score or anything, but if they were then Jay would definitely be losing by a large margin.
“Hey! I never said I was good,” Jay protests, smiling despite himself. Somehow he always ends up like this—made fun of affectionately, gently poked at in a way that he can’t deny. He thinks that being teased so ruthlessly because of badminton might be a new low, but well. It’s not bad, really.
“Sure, whatever,” Jungwon replies. He covers his smile with a hand, clearly amused. “Come on, serve the next one.”
The shuttlecock whistles through the air, and they continue to rally back and forth. The sun is still high in the sky. It’s a relaxed, easy pace for the most part, except for when Jungwon feels in the mood to slam something impossible down at Jay and watch him try to lunge for it anyway.
“You always go all out,” Jungwon says. He seems surprised at the fact, as if such a thing is counterintuitive. “Even when it’s obvious you won’t get it.”
Maybe it is, for someone like Jungwon, but it’s always made perfect sense to him.
“Hey, you never know.” Jay stands up and brushes stray bits of grass from his legs. “Even when it looks like it’s impossible, I might make it anyway.”
Sure enough, one of Jay’s improbable dives actually does pay off. Grass scratches against his shins as he lunges forward, the badminton racket barely meeting the shuttlecock. Jay can’t help but feel a little smug about it. “See?”
“Maybe you’re right,” Jungwon says. “Just this one time.”
“Hey!”
They play until Jay tires out, and he collapses onto the grass, staring up at the sky. It’s still as beautiful as it had been a couple of days ago, even more so with a distinct lack of clouds above. He hears Jungwon settle down beside him more than he sees it.
“This was fun.” Jungwon’s voice, coming from beside him. He sounds content, as opposed to that usual quiet restraint.
“Yeah.” Jay runs a hand through his hair. He’ll have to wash it when he gets home considering the sweat coating his forehead. “It was.”
“Even if you were eating shit half the time?” Jungwon asks, eyes wide and innocent. Jay knows, now, how much of a front it all is.
“What do you mean!? I’m amazing at badminton,” he says.
“Um,” Jungwon says, a teasing glint returning to his eyes. “That’s questionable.”
He shouldn’t have expected anything more from Jungwon. Jay rolls his eyes, and Jungwon imitates the action until finally, they’re giggling into the grass together.
Quiet settles over them, but it isn’t truly silent. Jay can hear their breathing intermingling with the sounds of the outside world. The soft breeze. People chatting, the sounds all distorted. The sprinklers run in their periphery, splashing rainbows of water droplets into the air. Jay feels sweat starting to cool down and dry against his skin, and he knows that soon he’ll have to go home and face the end of the day.
But for now, that sweet summer stillness feels infinite.
Jay sort of hates how hot it gets here. Hit with a heatwave, Jay barely has the energy to go outside. He stays in bed longer than usual that morning, scrolling through his phone idly. He wades through Reddit, backreads on some of the Discord servers he’s a part of, and finally taps through his friends’ Instagram stories. It’s everything that Jay’s used to, but he can’t help but linger on Jake’s post, in particular, the way Jake holds up a peace sign to the camera and manages to catch Heeseung and Sunghoon in the background.
He’s always been acutely aware of the distance the move would cause, had known that keeping in touch over the internet wouldn’t necessarily bridge that physical gap between him and his closest friends. But this is the first time he’s gotten the sense that it—this solely online connection, Jay as a passive bystander in Heeseung’s life—is pushing them further apart, leaving him disconnected. They haven’t talked in a couple of days, anyway.
Jay sends a message to Heeseung on Discord, but when he doesn’t get an immediate reply he simply turns his phone off. He knows, in theory, that there’s a lot he could do right now. He still has college forms to fill out, pages upon pages of medical histories and roommate preferences to relay to the university. There’s still a pair of pants he found while thrifting that he hasn’t altered to fit him, just because he hasn’t bothered taking out his sewing machine yet.
Instead, he finds himself in the kitchen. Without his parents at the house, it’s a lot more peaceful and quiet here. And it’s been a while since he’s been able to cook or bake, with the unpacking process going on.
The last time Jay had prepared food had been at their old home, in their old kitchen which Jay knew intimately. He misses it, misses being able to know where every spice is located and which rack in the oven is perfect for roasting fish on. He misses his favorite stool at the counter and being able to sit at the granite countertop and think, this is home. This room is smaller than their old kitchen and unfamiliar in so many ways.
Jay decides to make his favorite honey cookies. It’s the recipe he arguably knows the best—besides the corn cheese he can make in his sleep—and that return to familiarity feels desperately needed, now. It takes him a minute longer to find the flour, but measuring it out is a practiced motion.
Then the doorbell rings.
“Oh, hi,” Jay says, relieved to see that it’s Jungwon in front of him. “Uh, what’s up?” He doesn’t know anyone else in the neighborhood yet, and he’s uncomfortably aware of how he looks right now—glasses on, bangs tied up away from his eyes in a stupid little ponytail because it’s hot out. Definitely not the best way to greet strangers.
Jungwon’s eyes widen as he takes Jay in. “Is this—a bad time?” he asks. Jungwon’s forehead is shining with sweat. He seems as awkward as Jay feels right now, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he stands on the front porch. “You didn’t respond to your phone, and I just…” Jungwon trails off.
Jay thinks he gets it. “I turned off my phone, that’s all.” He feels the need to be gentler than normal. It’s an odd emotion he’s experiencing right now—seeing Jungwon when he hadn’t quite expected is nice, pleasant, like stepping into a patch of sunlight that’s been warming the hardwood floors. Not the scorching type of heat that Jungwon must’ve experienced on his walk here, but gentler than that.
“Just come in,” Jay continues, feeling slightly ridiculous for conversing for so long on their front porch. He can picture his mom scolding him for letting out the air-conditioning, or something. “I’m making cookies.”
“You bake?” Jungwon asks, spoken with that innocent incredulity as he steps inside. Jay should’ve expected this reaction. The boys he grew up alongside, Taehyun and Heeseung, had never not known this part of him. Another thing he misses, just a little.
But the only way to proceed is to be as matter of fact as possible. “Yeah, when I feel like it.” Jay continues walking to the kitchen, and Jungwon follows.
Baking is mostly for when he’s stressed—Jay vividly remembers poring over his college applications with a slice of banana bread beside him, or studying for tests junior year with another batch of something in the oven—but it’s still a nice habit to keep up. Baking is what got him grudgingly interested in chemistry in the first place: being able to understand the mechanisms in the transformation from dough to dessert, being able to internalize those complexities and better make them his own.
“You’re into so many different things,” Jungwon says absently. “Fashion, chemistry, baking…”
“I don’t know,” Jay replies, a little confused by Jungwon’s tone. “I just do what I like.” But what if you had a second life?
Jay looks over his shoulder. Jungwon seems lost in thought, frowning at nothing in particular. And Jay wonders, for a second. Because he’s never been good at just stopping at the realm of imagination, he says, “Do you want to help? If you came all the way here, you might as well.”
“Wow, bossy,” Jungwon deadpans.
Jay crosses his arms. “You could just go back home.”
“No, I want to help,” Jungwon says quickly. “I just don’t know anything about baking.”
He takes a seat at the kitchen counter, and first takes a look at the mixing bowl, eyes later roving over the rest of the kitchen with barely concealed fascination.
“Baking’s not that bad.” Jay slides the recipe across the counter to where Jungwons sits. “It’s just following directions, honestly.”
Even so, Jay’s going to be honest. Jungwon… is a horrid baker. Jay had thought himself the clumsier one of them both, but however unfamiliar Jay might be in this new kitchen, Jungwon is doubly so.
They get a good laugh out of Jungwon’s egg-breaking—it’s all about controlling the force, Jay tells him, but he honestly isn’t keen enough to even continue letting Jungwon smash eggs so brutally—and Jay shows Jungwon the proper way to measure flour, aerating the particles before scooping it into the cup measure in question. At least Jungwon’s good at shaping the cookie dough into little balls; the small frown of concentration he wears on his face, too immersed in the process to say many words, is almost endearing.
“See? It’s not that bad, right?” Jay asks once they’ve finally got the tray of cookies into the oven. He takes off the oven mitts and sets them on the counter in front of Jungwon.
Jungwon wrinkles his brow, his legs kicking back against his stool. “It was kind of complicated.”
“Complicated?” Jay can’t help but smile at that. “Oh my god. Man, this is about as simple as it gets. Just wait till you see—”
“You have flour on your face,” Jungwon interrupts, gesturing at his own cheek to show where it is.
“Oh.” Jay rubs at his skin half-heartedly. “Better?”
Jungwon, in lieu of a reply, just reaches out to swipe at his skin himself. It’s a brief, perfunctory touch, but it leaves Jay speechless for a moment.
“You’re kind of a mess,” Jungwon says, as if he hadn’t just had his hand on Jay’s cheek a couple of seconds before. “Nice ponytail?”
Or maybe Jungwon genuinely doesn’t care about stuff like that. Jay’s a naturally touchy person himself—arms thrown over shoulders, taps and pats to check that the other is okay—but he’d assumed Jungwon was the opposite.
Jay makes a face at Jungwon’s words regardless. “It’s because you showed up early,” he protests. He’d almost forgotten about the ponytail, in the excitement of baking, but now that he remembers he feels the blood rushing to his cheeks in embarrassment.
“It’s not a bad thing.” Jungwon stretches, and with his face tilted up toward the light streaming in through the windows, he looks like he’s basking in the illumination almost. Limned in the golden light, burnished in something precious. “It’s just you.”
The cookies look different than normal when Jay takes them out of the oven. Probably due to the differences in elevation, Jay explains to Jungwon, but even with the varying conditions the honey cookies still taste comforting. And it’s that blending of the familiar and new—baking a trusted recipe, sharing an unfamiliar space with someone he’s still getting to know—that sets him at ease.
Sure, he misses home, misses his friends. But that doesn’t mean he can’t forge something, just for a moment, here with Jungwon.
Jay sets the book down with a groan, leaning back onto the couch awkwardly. The furniture at Jungwon’s house is a lot more rigid than what he’s used to, a different sort of discomfort from the soft scratchy grass he’d rather lie down on. Such are the side effects of a heat advisory. "I don't know if I can do this."
"You just have to read and see, okay?" Jungwon says. He’s curled up in an armchair across the coffee table, clearly immersed in his own book. Jay wishes he could say the same about himself. "I promise it’ll get better."
“I guess,” Jay replies. He flips back through the pages he's read, counting it up in his head. A whole fifteen of them, and so far he's learned more about the architecture of the household than the actual plot of the book. It's not terribly written—at least not to Jay's unknowledgeable eyes—but every moment of the story is narrated with painstaking detail, so many sentences dedicated to the description and setting that Jay can't help but find it ludicrous. "But literally nothing has happened so far."
“You’ve barely started,” Jungwon points out, and, well, it’s not as if he’s wrong. Jay thinks that Jungwon is about to return back to reading his book, and he flips back to the page that he’s on to resume reading about the dreadfully boring pursuits of this stuck-up thirteen-year-old. But, Jungwon continues, a little hesitant: “Look, you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to. It’s just something that I liked, and wanted to share with you.”
And, well, put like that—in the face of Jungwon’s rare moments of earnestness, when he’d so much more often tend towards glib teasing instead—what is Jay supposed to say in response?
“Okay, I’ll keep reading,” Jay replies, mouth dry.
“I bet you’ll cry when you finish, though,” Jungwon adds. He raises his eyebrows. “Do you cry a lot? You seem like the type of person to cry at the movies."
"Who doesn't cry at sad movies?" Jay can feel the back of his neck heating up in embarrassment. "It's not a bad thing." Jay's in touch with his emotions, so what?
Jungwon raises his hands up in mock self-defense. "I never said it was!" He's smiling, that same pleased look Jay's starting to see on him more and more—especially while he's teasing Jay. "It's just what you're like."
Maybe Jay would mind Jungwon's teasing words more if they weren't accompanied by that smile, by that laugh. But they are, and so all he does is duck his head and admit defeat. “Whatever,” Jay replies. “Guess I’ll just finish the book and prove you wrong, alright?”
“Deal,” Jungwon agrees.
So Jay opens the novel and starts reading again.
Heeseung does respond, eventually, and soon enough Jay finds himself video calling his best friend. It’s both different and the same. Even miles of distance and pixelated smiles can’t change the fact that they’ve known each other for more than a decade.
It’s a different type of friendship that he has with Jungwon, Jay realizes. With Jungwon, it’s like the knowledge is more intentional. Every detail shared is another way to spur on their friendship. But all that Heeseung knows about Jay comes from years and years of gentle accumulation, everything building up gradually: two trees with their roots tangled together below the soil.
Jay tells Heeseung this because he tells Heeseung everything, and Heeseung fixes him a look through the laptop screen.
“And this Jungwon guy, you two are just friends,” Heeseung says. It sounds like a question stopped half in its tracks.
“Yeah,” Jay replies, mind still hinging on the just hanging between them. He realizes half a moment too late. “Wait a second. You can’t think—”
“Tell me,” Heeseung interrupts. He’s got this strange look on his face, eyes a little wide. “Is he cute? Do you have a picture?”
Jay doesn’t reply. Part of him realizes that if Heeseung ever sees a photo, he’d be able to tell instantly.
“Oh, he totally is, isn’t he,” Heeseung continues.
Jay groans into his arms, head hitting the keyboard. “I don’t know.” There’s so much that he feels clueless about. He isn’t even sure if Jungwon could like guys, let alone him, but he doesn’t know how to convey all of this to Heeseung right now. This is touchy territory for both of them, but who else can he talk to?
He looks up at Heeseung, torn in hesitance in front of him. All of a sudden, Jay is hit with a wave of acute longing. He misses seeing his best friend in person and reading his posture beyond the tense set of his shoulders that appears on the computer screen.
“Well, I don’t know either,” Heeseung says. Except Heeseung does, can intuit things without knowing the nitty-gritty details. “But it’s not like back then—I mean, you can figure out what you want, now.”
“I’m sorry,” Jay replies, wincing right after. An automatic reflex at this point, but not a welcome one for either of them. Heeseung smiles—the same strained flash of teeth he’d aimed at teachers he particularly hated during junior year.
It’s been a while since then—a while since Heeseung had kissed him that fraught fall afternoon, a while since Jay had sorted through the mess of attraction and emotion within only to determine that keeping his best friend was more important than possibly losing him.
And there are things that Jay still can’t take back, now. Mistakes he’s afraid of repeating.
Jay distracts himself by diving into the book, instead. He finishes the first part that night and he just knows, then. It’s a little past midnight, the low golden lamplight by his nightstand the only thing illuminating the pages before him.
He can’t stop thinking about what Jungwon had said—what Jungwon has been telling him, about books and reading, this whole time.
from: Jay
u up?
from: Jungwon
Was going to sleep soon
What’s up
There’s something special about texting at night. The lights are low in Jay’s room, and he’s sprawled out on his bed. All he needs to do is roll over and place his phone and glasses on the bedside table before falling asleep.
Jungwon has been teasing him with those quippy little smirk emojis, and Jay just feels comfortable, inhibitions lowered. He knows there's a different sort of courage that comes from hiding behind a screen; sometimes the perfect avenue for a heart-to-heart conversation isn’t face-to-face.
Jay figures he might as well ask what he’s been wondering about ever since he started reading the book.
from: Jay
do u wanna be a writer
from: Jungwon
I don't know
I know I like it but that's it
from: Jay
i get what u mean
its how i feel about fashion haha
from: Jungwon
Oh yeah
You never really talk about that
???
Jay can read between the lines; he knows that it’s an open invitation from Jungwon to tell him about this. He wonders whether he should start off with his Hedi Slimane rant or explain why he wants to design clothes or even—
They stay up pretty late that night, just texting. And even when Jungwon wishes him goodnight, citing the volunteering shift he has to attend tomorrow, Jay’s mind can’t stop moving a mile a minute. He scrolls up through their conversation, rereading the way Jungwon had reacted to his whole tangent on muted color palettes, then goes further, all the way back to the beginning. do u wanna be a writer feels almost a trite question, like asking him if he wants to be a designer. And writing…
Writing? Jay shuts his phone off, rolls over onto his stomach, and places his phone on the bedside table without looking. The glasses follow after that, and soon he has his head pressed into the pillow.
He pictures his English classes and imagines Jungwon enjoying the discussions about symbolism or theme. Jungwon sitting at his desk at home, the words he spins the only vivid part of his mostly solitary life. Jungwon making something beautiful out of nothing, from mere thought itself.
It’s scary, a little. For every inch Jungwon gives him, Jay wants to take—wants to give back—another mile.
"So how does, like, designing clothes work?" Jungwon had asked a seemingly innocent question. He'd shifted forward on the armchair, book forgotten in his lap. "Is it like how they do it on Project Runway?"
Jay had given Jungwon a look of disdain, unable to help himself. “What do you think?”
Aside from briefly interrogating Jungwon on Project Runway—my sister watched a couple of episodes, okay, Jungwon protested—Jay had to admit, he was excited to show Jungwon more about the things he likes. So excited that he'd forgotten to consider the obvious upon bringing Jungwon upstairs. It's only hitting Jay right now, as he faces the door of his bedroom.
No, it's not that his bedroom is messy—although it is—nor that Jay barely finished moving in just a day ago—though that's also true. Instead, he's struck by how much yet how little Jungwon knows about him, and what this room might reveal.
He cracks open the door and peers inside, reconsidering everything from Jungwon's perspective. There’s a cluster of the perfumes on his counter, and sunscreen because his mom doesn’t want him to get any more freckles. There’s a One Direction poster hanging in the far corner—a gag gift Heeseung gave when Jay was obsessed with Zayn Malik as an elementary schooler—and a BTS album nestled among the novels in his bookshelf. And, of course, there's his shiny sewing machine and the haphazard stack of French language-learning textbooks. In conclusion: Jay Park is a fucking dork.
He glances back at Jungwon for a second. It’s not as if Jungwon doesn’t already know that, he thinks. What’s going through his mind must be exceedingly apparent on his face; Jungwon laughs at what he sees.
“Is your room messy or something?” Jungwon asks. “Come on, I won’t judge.”
Yeah, Jay thinks. Messy with everything that Jay’s obsessed with: fashion, music, languages.
"It's fine," Jay decides. "Just—oh, just come in." He takes a deep breath, and they both step inside.
It takes approximately one second for Jungwon to get a glance at the One Direction poster and announce, “Wait—is that—okay, never mind, I’m slightly judging right now.”
“Jungwon!” Jay grabs him by the shoulders and turns him around so that his back is to the poster. “Oh my god—just pretend it doesn’t exist. Please.”
“Why not?” Jungwon grins at him, eyes glimmering with mirth. “It’s cute.”
“It’s embarrassing,” Jay mumbles, trying to ignore the way his heart rate picks up after Jungwon calls him cute.
Jungwon peers over Jay’s shoulder at the wall behind him. “Can I… look?” he asks, nodding toward the bookshelf. “It’s just—I want to see what you have.” It’s a meager arrangement—for some reason, he imagines Jungwon’s own room to have shelves teeming with novels, stacks on stacks—with not a lot of actual books taking up space.
“Sure,” Jay replies, wondering if Jungwon will find anything interesting in-between his surreptitiously placed Wings album and Hedi Slimane anthologies. “There isn’t much.”
“Yeah, there isn’t,” Jungwon replies. Even so, he slips a book from Jay’s shelves—a novel Jay’s aunt had bought a couple of months back—and holds it in his grip, giving it a considerable glance.
“You can borrow it,” Jay says.
Jungwon looks at him the same way he’d looked at the book in his hands: with an air of discovery, of curiosity. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Jay confirms. He sits on the edge of his bed, watching as Jungwon walks away from the bookshelf.
Jungwon pauses at the dresser first, eyes widening once he spots the perfume bottles. “Oh. Wow.” He looks over at Jay again, then back to the perfume just as quickly. Jungwon mumbles something imperceptible under his breath, and it puts him on edge.
“Don’t judge,” Jay says, defensive.
“I wasn’t—I’m not judging, I swear,” Jungwon insists, the edges of his ears turning red. “Is that why you smell like—ah, I should've guessed.”
Jay blinks at him. “Like blackberries?” Already he’s wondering: is it noticeable in a bad way? Is it too strong? He thinks back to all the times they’ve sat by each other, and wonders whether Jungwon had ever found him suffocating.
Jungwon frowns. “What are blackberries even supposed to smell like?”
“It’s the scent I use,” Jay explains. “So it’ll be whatever I smell like, I guess.”
“It’s sweet, then,” Jungwon says quietly. He moves on, back to the embarrassing One Direction poster, before Jay can even process what he’s said.
“Who’s your favorite member?” Jungwon continues. He sounds normal again.
“Uh… Zayn,” Jay says. He can feel his cheeks heat up. “Yours?”
“My sister liked Harry,” Jungwon says absently. He glances back at Jay and continues. “I don’t know the other members. They're not really my type.”
"Your type," Jay repeats blankly, feeling as if this conversation took a severe left turn without him realizing it. Is he hearing the same words that Jungwon is saying, right now? His ears ring with the question he wants to ask: what's your type, then?
“Weren’t you going to show me how you…” Jungwon trails off, gesturing vaguely at the sewing machine on Jay’s desk.
“Oh, right.” Jay rushes to clear the desk of his mess, dragging over a stool so that they can sit together. He isn’t sure about showing Jungwon his sketches, but at least he can preview some other parts of his process. “I like styling outfits too, but I got kind of into making some small things.”
Jungwon peers over his shoulder and listens with rapt attention as Jay talks about fabrics and the annoyances of using a sewing machine. It takes a couple of minutes for Jay to notice, in the midst of their conversation, but once he does—once he realizes that their shoulders are touching—he can’t stop thinking about it. A gentle, grounding sort of awareness that Jay can’t help but want to lean into.
With Jungwon, it’s like time fractures, in a way. It doesn’t move at the same sluggish pace that Jay is so accustomed to. The hours he spends alone or with his parents are always weighed down with the summer heat. Yet, merely a morning and afternoon spent with Jungwon can pass in the blink of an eye.
Jay’s summer is starting to speed past him, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.