Chapter Text
"Don’t look at me like that. You did say you wanted to live a little."
"I said I wanted boba, Joshua. Not to get kidnapped by your midnight taco obsession."
Wonwoo stood in front of a flickering taco truck, hoodie up, arms crossed like he was preparing for battle. Behind him, a city that never slept blared in neon and passing sirens, the air thick with that familiar LA tang - hot concrete, exhaust fumes, and the questionable aroma of whatever was sizzling behind the counter.
His sneakers stuck slightly to the pavement. Everything smelled like adventure and bad decisions.
Joshua, standing beside him with all the grace of a man who knew he was being annoying and fully leaned into it, just grinned.
"You act like I dragged you to the middle of nowhere. We’re literally fifteen minutes from your house."
"That’s not comforting," Wonwoo muttered, glancing over his shoulder like a raccoon might jump out and demand his wallet. "You do realize people get stabbed in this zip code."
Joshua held up a hand. "Only on Thursdays."
"Today is Thursday."
"Exactly. We're early."
Wonwoo narrowed his eyes. "If we die out here, I’m haunting you first."
Joshua patted his shoulder. "If we die out here, it’ll be with tacos in our hands. Honestly? Not the worst way to go."
It was nights like this that reminded Wonwoo how weird his life had become.
Not in a bad way - just... different. The kind of difference that made his ribs ache a little if he thought too long.
Two years ago, the idea of sneaking out for midnight tacos with someone like Joshua Hong would’ve sounded like a fever dream.
But then again, most of LA had felt like a fever dream at first.
Two years earlier
New school. New country. New lunchroom that smelled vaguely like chlorine and overcooked pizza.
Wonwoo sat at the edge of a round table, stiff as hell, picking at a turkey sandwich that had the texture of wet sponge. He didn’t talk much, didn’t know anyone, and definitely wasn’t interested in awkward small talk about math class.
Everyone around him moved in packs. Their laughs cracked like static, bouncing too loudly off linoleum floors. Wonwoo didn’t know if they were happy or just performing it.
So when a tray slammed down beside his, it startled the life out of him.
"You look like you hate everyone here," said a voice, cheerful like a sitcom character who didn’t understand boundaries.
Wonwoo turned slowly. A boy with messy hair, stupidly shiny shoes, and a smile way too bright for public school was grinning at him.
"Excuse me?"
"Just a vibe," the boy said, plopping down like he owned the place. "You got the whole ‘brooding loner’ look going. Mysterious. Kind of hot. But also, like, alarming."
Wonwoo blinked. "I... what?"
"I’m Joshua," the boy said, offering a hand like they were in a rom-com. "Wanna be the first person I annoy today?"
Wonwoo stared at the hand. Thought about saying no. Thought about walking away.
But for some reason, he took it.
Now, back in the present, Joshua returned to the car like a hero returning from war - two tacos in one hand, a giant horchata in the other, and zero shame in his stride.
"I got you the one without avocado," he announced proudly, slamming the foil packet down like a peace offering - or a dare.
Wonwoo took it with narrowed eyes. "Because you remember I choked on it that one time?"
"Exactly," Joshua said, already halfway into his own taco. "I protect you. From guacamole and from yourself."
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. "You’re the one who told me it ‘tasted like heaven.’"
"It does taste like heaven. You just ate it like someone trying to prove a point."
"Yeah. The point was I hate you."
Joshua pointed a chip at him. "And yet, here you are. Midnight tacos. My passenger princess."
Wonwoo sighed, but didn’t deny it. He unwrapped the foil slowly, letting the warmth hit his hands, and took a bite. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the city hum around them. It was loud and messy and kind of beautiful. Like everything else in LA.
Joshua glanced at him sideways, suddenly quieter. "Hey. You ever think about going back?"
"To Korea?"
Joshua nodded, licking salsa off his thumb. "Just for a bit. Summer maybe. My parents were talking about it. I think your dad was, too."
Wonwoo looked out the window. The streetlights streaked against the windshield like smudged gold.
He hadn’t thought about Korea in years.
Not really. Not on purpose.
But sometimes his dreams went back without asking. To cramped streets and humid nights. To his grandmother’s voice calling him in for dinner. To sounds that didn’t feel borrowed.
He never told Joshua that.
He just kept looking out at the city that had become his - fast and glittery and never fully his at all.
"Maybe," he said finally. The word felt strange in his mouth. "Just for summer."
Joshua smiled around a mouthful of taco. "That’s the spirit. We’ll eat our way across Seoul."
Wonwoo huffed out a laugh. For once, he didn’t say no.
The decision, once spoken, settled quietly between them - like a suitcase left by the door, waiting to be packed.