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Sieun had never been a friend before.
When Suho’s life intertwined with Sieun’s, when he wasn’t sure where his schedule started and Suho’s ended, Sieun actually found himself falling into an easy rhythm. Much to his own dismay, of course.
When things were good, everything was good. Sieun excelled in his studies, his focus was undeterred and the life around him seemed brighter, the grass was greener, the flowers seemed to be blooming.
But when things weren’t good, when Suho didn’t respond to a message right away, when they got into ugly spats and both of them said things they didn’t mean–Sieun was a mess. His grades would slip, his focus anywhere but the board, he would miss cram school just to go see Suho at his work, or to cook him an apology soup.
The worst argument they ever had, one that lasted a torturous two weeks, Sieun had bought dozens of ingredients just to make him a cake. It wasn’t even Sieun’s fault, but he still found himself at Suho’s door, groveling, pathetic.
It only helped that Suho was also very apologetic, and the same day Sieun brought him his favorite dessert, Suho was planning to invite Sieun over for dinner.
Maybe they were both a little pathetic for each other.
And they came out stronger, like they usually did, like things usually were. But everytime they would fall into these simple spats, ones that would ruin Sieun for days, that filled him with a dread that he couldn’t explain, he realized how much of a hold Suho had on him.
Suho could find the end of Sieun and completely unravel him, leaving him ruined and covered in knots that Suho–and only Suho–would be able to undo. Suho had seen every ugly part of Sieun, the clingy one, the drunk one, the sleepy one, the smiley one, the sick one, it was almost beautiful, needlessly terrifying how one word and Sieun would destroy himself for him.
And nothing he ever did for Suho would be enough, he could spend his entire life in debt, hoping to make Suho half as happy as he was. And that was fine, Sieun thought, more than fine, if he spent his entire life like that, at Suho’s disposal, he would be happy.
Suho didn’t need to see him in that way, he would spend his entire life yearning if it meant he could stay by his side, things didn’t ever have to change, in fact, Sieun hoped they never would.
Everytime he woke up to find Suho’s face next to his, a sleepover neither of them planned or expected, he hoped that time would stop for a moment. One more hour to watch the way his chest rose and fell, one more hour to imagine that they weren’t in Sieun’s too-old mattress–but their mattress, in their brand new bed frame, one they still hadn’t broken in yet, one that didn’t squeak every time they moved, furniture still packed in boxes, they’d wake up late and Sieun would remind Suho that they need to go to the store and pick a backsplash for their kitchen.
Sieun was fine leaving that in his imagination, the domestic simple life, one that would never come to fruition. It was fine. Fine, fine, fine.
Then, they graduated high school.
Sieun still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, something medical probably, something that would make his parents proud, to make Suho proud. And Suho, Suho was content doing something more simple. Communications, maybe even business, computer science.
Either way, they would end up at different colleges, the moment their majors started clashing, Sieun sort of knew. Suho would “rather die than go through chemistry again” and Sieun didn’t want to do computer classes or learn about the state of the economy or whatever. And in any case–it would make him feel good to be able to take care of people, to make a difference in someone’s life, to save people even if it’s as small as just administering medicine or checking someone’s blood pressure.
Though Sieun had initially not thought much of it, that the places they lived in wouldn’t change, neither of them wanted to live in dorms, Suho was much more content living at home taking care of his grandma, and Sieun was comfortable coming home straight after classes and studying there, waiting in anticipation for Suho’s knock or his call.
But, things weren’t that simple.
The first few weeks of the semester were filled with late night calls and long sleepovers, they wouldn’t meet in the day, not when either of them had classes or Suho was working, but the night sky was theirs–only theirs.
It wasn’t as frequent as it used to be, especially with how many all nighters Sieun had to take anyway, studying to go to medical school wasn’t easy , and high school started looking like a walk in the park in comparison. Suho and Sieun’s already limited encounters became a near memory.
It destroyed him.
Things had changed in ways that Sieun didn’t like, his comfortable routine had become lifeless, cold. He saw his old self again, old habits clawing at him, the all-nighters, the energy drinks, skipping meals, forgetting to shower or brush his teeth. He was right back where he started.
He was the Sieun that had never seen the stars in the sky. The Sieun that hadn’t met Suho.
Sieun didn’t have any distractions besides school and studying, it was all he had known before Suho. He didn’t find a need in being friends with anyone else, he didn’t want to, not when he already had Suho.
Right?
They were still… friends. Best friends.
Sieun assumed it was just school, both of them were a lot busier now after all, they would go back to how they were once they could balance their schedules more effectively, once the semester ended and they weren’t busy anymore—yeah, that had to be it.
So, Sieun waited.
Up until that point, he had tried calling a few times a week, sent a few texts every once in a while, mostly to ask how he was doing, on one occasion he’d even sent a picture of himself, a night where he felt particularly lonely, when his midterms were around the corner and he was missing the way Suho would come over and run his fingers through his hair or massage his neck and shoulders, scolding him to sit up straight.
It was a picture Sieun had taken earlier in the semester, a soft, shy smile over his lips, a flower pinched in between his fingers. He was going to send it the day he took it, but ended up chickening out.
Until that night, that is.
His cheeks had immediately burned, pressing his phone face down in the bed, he let out a soft breath and promptly forced himself to go to sleep. It’s not like they’d never sent selfies of each other before, Sieun a lot less for obvious reasons, but if Suho requested a picture, Sieun would never say no.
He unsent it the next morning when Suho hadn’t even opened it.
Sieun felt like an idiot. He was an idiot–when had he let someone’s actions pull at his heartstrings, puppeteering his feelings, giving his heart on a silver platter.
When did it start belonging to Suho?
Now, while snow pattered at the window, his weighted blanket strewn over his lap, he hovered his mouse over the refresh button, hesitating. Sieun’s final grades had been posted, there were doubts lingering at the back of his mind as they usually did, no matter how many good grades he got, if he even stopped for a second, letting it all slip, he’d fall, he’d fall fast and hard and Sieun’s not sure if he’d be able to get back up again.
The fear was always there, like a needle constantly held at his throat, and if he let his head drop, it’d puncture him, small, deadly.
Normally, he wouldn’t be this hesitant, only because Suho was always there, hand on his shoulder, reassuring and present. He’d smile and get really close, “whatever you get, I’m proud of you, you know?”
He lets the voice carry him, clicking refresh, blinking as he sees his grades.
Full marks.
Sieun sighs in relief, his shoulders releasing a tension that he hadn’t known was there. He closes his laptop, opening his small notebook.
“Check final grades.”
Done. He draws a line through the words.
“Text Suho.”
Not done. Sieun frowns, glancing at his phone face down on the table. He’s been having it like that a lot recently, no one else really texts him, and he has no use for his phone besides for the necessities of answering a message from his parents or listening to music.
He figures it’s as good a time as any, the snow might get worse over the next week and Sieun would really like to see Suho before then.
Sieun knows it’s farfetched, but he can’t help but hope they get trapped in the apartment from the thick snow. Even if the power goes out, even if they lose all the heat in the rooms, at least Suho would be there, his annoyingly warm body against Sieun’s.
Subconsciously, he opens the app to him and Suho’s messages, he still hasn’t read Sieun’s old ones, and he tries to ignore the way his heart aches and his stomach churns.
“Hey, are you free?”
It’s simple, he doesn’t overthink it, he doesn’t rewrite it a million times like he usually does, biting his bottom lip and closing his phone.
Sieun knows he won’t get an answer today, maybe not even tomorrow, but he keeps clinging onto this invisible hope, even if it makes him look like an idiot.
To his surprise, it only takes a few minutes.
Sieun’s head reels, his hands beginning to shake, whether that’s from how cold they are or something else entirely, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t care.
“Yeah, of course”
“Can I come over?”
Sieun doesn’t even have to think about it, every ugly thought and feeling that’s stirred in his stomach suddenly disappears. Filled with Suho, Suho, Suho.
“ Yes ”
When he hears the familiar “delivery!” His heart jumps to his throat, standing from his chair, letting the blanket hooked around him fall to the floor with a thump, shuffling to the mirror in his bathroom.
Sieun doesn’t know why, but he smooths out his hair a little before he answers the door, he glances at his eyes, his nose, his dry lips, making sure his hoodie doesn’t look too wrinkled, like he hadn’t slept in it (he did).
Then he’s pattering over, a little faster than necessary, almost tripping over his own feet as he opens the door.
Sieun’s heart swells when he sees him, clad in his familiar red windbreaker, his stupid, goofy smile and his jagged bangs splayed over his forehead. “Sieun.” He calls, reaching forward and engulfing him into a hug.
He stiffens at the contact, had it been anyone else they would’ve already been pushed to the ground, but he lets his arms wrap around Suho’s back too, more gentle, like if Sieun presses too hard Suho might disappear. “Suho.” He whispers, enjoying the way his name feels on his own tongue, Sieun would say it forever if Suho let him.
“I’ve missed you so much.” The words send prickles down Sieun’s neck, he doesn’t know how he ever lived without Suho’s touch, electrifying him with just a hug and the ghost of his lips over his ear.
If his mind was more clear, less drunk on Suho’s attention, he would’ve pushed him out the door already, voice raised–”How can you miss me? You never even read my messages till today.” But he bites his tongue, it’s not worth getting into when they haven’t seen each other in so long, not if it might drive Suho further away.
Then, Suho shivers, “it’s cold,” he whines, “can I come in?”
They end up on Sieun’s bed, like they usually do, Sieun’s head against the frame and Suho’s head in his lap, and for a second, Sieun feels ridiculous.
He feels ridiculous for even thinking Suho was ignoring him for some reason other than school and work, guilty for assuming that he had become less important.
That is, until Suho speaks up. ”I made a new friend.” And the hand Sieun had shoved into Suho’s hair went slack.
“What?” Sieun answers quietly, watching his face carefully.
“Her name is Youngyi, she’s nice, you’d like her.” He shrugs, it’s so casual that Sieun almost brushes past it.
“What?” It’s the only word he can say, he feels like a broken record, he’s never not known what to say, a quip is always at the tip of his tongue, a response, no matter how curt flows out of his lips before he can think it. And yet, right now, he’s never felt this lost.
“What?” Suho says, catching onto Sieun’s internal panic, his eyebrows furrowed, and a pout adorning his lips.
Sieun stays silent for a moment, his hand retreating to fidget with his sleeves, “nothing, you just…” he takes a breath, then shakes his head, “that’s nice, I'm glad you made a friend.” It’s not worth it, he convinces himself, and he should be happy . Sieun’s not entitled to Suho’s affection, even if he so desperately wants to be.
But Suho knows Sieun like the back of his hand.
“I know I haven’t been texting you as much,” Suho says suddenly, bringing a hand up to cup Sieun’s face. Sieun should be used to this–this physical contact, no matter how intimate, Suho would be remiss to keep his hands off of him. That’s just how he always is. Pushing, pushing, seeing how far he can go, what buttons to press.
And he’s cupped his cheeks before, sometimes with both hands, sometimes with one just to force his lips into a pout, but this–this is different.
Sieun knows it’s different because his own hand is resting on top of Suho’s, fingers gently locking together, unable to keep himself too far away. Suho’s hands are uncharacteristically cold today, Sieun’s are warm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
He’s lying.
Sieun knows he’s lying because his eyes slightly shift, it’s enough for Sieun’s calculated gaze to catch, and his Adam’s apple bobs against his throat. There’s something beginning to simmer in the air, thick.
Sieun catches it and smothers it. “Okay.” He says.
The next time they meet again, it’s at karaoke.
Suho invited Sieun one night, his limited day off from work and he rented a karaoke room for the both of them and… Youngyi.
Sieun shouldn’t be upset–he isn’t –and he should be praising Suho for attempting to make up for their distance, but he spends most of the night swallowing an ugly feeling in his gut when he sees the both of them belting out romantic songs in a duet.
He’s never sung at karaoke, nothing will ever convince him to do it, probably not even Suho, and plus he much prefers watching his friend make a fool out of himself. A smile is always ghosting over his lips, especially when Suho moves closer to him, serenading him, brushing his knuckles against Sieun’s forehead to move his bangs.
Not this time.
Sieun’s not jealous–or at least, he’s pretty sure he’s not–Youngyi’s really nice. She’s pretty, and funny, just as Suho described. And their dynamic is not flirty or too close, it’s not her presence that he doesn’t like, not exactly.
It’s that his imagination starts to drift without him wanting it to, he imagines Suho in one of his economic classes, fighting to keep his eyes open, Youngyi taking the spot next to him and questions about assignments turn into “what are you doing this weekend?”, and before he knows it, they’re getting boba together and Sieun is not there.
It’s not that Suho can’t have other friends, in fact, Sieun commends him for being able to make them in the hellscape that is university–it’s that he doesn’t get to be there too.
He doesn’t get to silently watch him interact with other people, he doesn’t get to see the knit in between his eyebrows when he’s taking an exam, or the restless nights he spends trying to get an essay to sound right. Sieun missed all of it.
Youngyi didn’t, or at least she probably didn’t. And the thought doesn’t make him feel any better about it.
His gaze falls from the two, to the table in front of him, crushed up cans, leftover snacks and food scattered across the sticky wood. The song comes to an end and he abruptly stands, taking both of them by surprise, “I’m going to go get drinks.” He says, avoiding their curious stares.
Sieun doesn’t bother asking what they wanted, he just needed to get out of the stuffy room.
His fingers rub at his temples as he approaches the vending machine, staring past the glass, past the cans of soda lined up behind each other to his own reflection. He feels pathetic–he looks pathetic.
Sieun enters a few dollars, grabbing three of the same drink and waiting for it to dispense at the bottom.
Steps sound from behind him, and he thinks it’s one of the high schoolers from a couple rooms down from them coming to get drinks too, but when he turns, he sees Suho. “You okay?” He approaches, hands in his pockets, and Sieun knows him well enough that if he paid close attention he would see his fingers twiddling with something underneath the fabric.
“Yeah.” Sieun says, because he is fine. Fine, fine, fine. He reaches down to grab the drinks that thrummed loudly against the machine on their way down.
“We were thinking of renting the room for another hour, unless you wanted to do something else?”
Sieun shrugs, “whatever you want.” Because it always was, whatever Suho wanted—nothing else mattered, and Sieun thrived in it.
Sieun loved when Suho took charge, making decisions for the both of them. He reveled in that part of their friendship, for once he didn’t need to think so hard. Not with Suho.
Sieun never craved a particular meal, but Suho happened to be craving ramen, and Sieun would look up spots and find one that would suit Suho’s tastes. Sieun wasn’t sure whether he should wear his dark gray hoodie or his light gray one—but Suho was already passing Sieun’s arms through the dark gray one.
Sieun would never admit it to anyone—especially not Suho—but he loved being taken care of like that. “Okay, I’ll rent it for another hour.” Suho nods, as if confirming it with himself.
A blip of silence passes through them, and Sieun passes him one of the drinks.
“Do you like her?” Suho asked, cracking open the soda, the sound of bubbles fizzling out.
“Yeah. She’s nice.” Sieun doesn’t really know what else to say, but before they can walk back, a question ripples through him before he can stop it, he was putting himself on display, and it was with a vulnerability he didn’t like. “Are you two…?”
Suho’s eyes widen, for a second he stays like that, then his eyebrows furrow, gaze following the tiles before coming back to Sieun, “no, not even close, why?”
Why? Why are you so curious, Sieun? He grips the two cans in his hands tightly enough the aluminum crinkles audibly, “no reason.”
He shouldn’t care, he knows he shouldn't, it's not Sieun’s business who Suho talks to, and he’s told himself before that he likes the way things are anyway. Sieun doesn’t want things to change between them, not if it means losing Suho.
Youngyi does the next song on her own, and Suho saddles up next to Sieun. He doesn’t say anything, neither of them do, and the air between has an awkwardness that Sieun doesn’t like. Sieun speaks up first, “you never told me how your finals went.”
“Ah,” Suho says, glancing down at his lap, then at Sieun, “good, I passed them all.”
Sieun brightens, “Suho,” he starts, “I’m so proud of you.”
Suho grins, the shy one that makes his cheekbones all round and pink, “thank you, Sieun.” He answers, it’s so soft he almost doesn’t hear it over Youngyi’s throaty singing. “I take it you passed yours?”
“Full marks.” He smiles, and Suho wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.
“Our little smartie.” Suho coos, rubbing his upper arm.
For a second, Sieun forgets it all. Things really are this simple, he’s overcomplicating everything like he usually does, wanting more, more, more. But Suho’s attention is divided amongst so many other things, and he’s not the center of his universe anymore—if he ever was.
Maybe Sieun should want less—maybe that’s his problem.
They meet for the last time before Spring semester on Christmas.
Thankfully—and Sieun hates that he enjoyed it so much—it was just the two of them and Suho’s grandma.
Sieun’s parents had offered to spend Christmas with him but promptly declined when Suho’s texts came through asking him if he wanted to go over for the holidays.
It had been a tradition for a few years now, they’d spend the holidays at Suho’s place, and for smaller holidays like White Day, they would spend it at Sieun’s.
Despite their recent disconnect, Sieun’s uncharacteristically giddy that they’re still relishing in their small traditions.
He made sure to dress in layers, and had packed both Suho’s and his grandma’s gifts in a bag.
Sieun takes the bus to his place and Suho’s grandma ushers him in quickly, rubbing his cold, clothed arms, then pressing her hands to his cheeks. “You’re shivering, Sieun.”
And he was, he hadn’t realized it until he was in their warm building, taking in a shaky breath, relishing in the contrasting temperatures between his face and halmeoni’s hands.
“I’ll make some tea.” She smiles, smoothing out his hair, then heads for the kitchen.
Suho appears nearby, he doesn’t notice Sieun at first, helping his grandma boil the water and get the tea leaves, moving much more swiftly. “I can do it, go sit on the couch, grandma.” He whines, shooing her out.
Sieun places the bag down and sheds some of his layers, gravitating towards Suho like a magnet. “Suho.” He mumbles, startling the other, who nearly attacks him with a porcelain mug.
“You scared me,” he breathes out, but it turns into a smile, “you came.”
Of course I did. “Yeah.” Is all he musters. “I left the gifts near the door.”
“Oh,” he glances, to the entrance, then at the water currently simmering. “I hope you like the gift I got you.” Suho mumbles.
“Why do you say that?”
“Just…” he stops himself, “you’ll see.” Then he pinches Sieun’s cheek, the moment sizzling out, “your face is all red from the cold.”
Sieun’s not sure if it’s the cold anymore, though.
Suho had helped his grandma cook japchae and galbi, a plethora of side dishes filling the table alongside it. Sieun thanks them for the meal and fixes his chopsticks in between his fingers before shoving rice in his mouth.
Suho’s grandma had placed a piece of meat in Sieun’s rice bowl, with a gentle smile, and an “eat more”. Then a few minutes later Suho places extra kimchi on Sieun’s rice, wordlessly, almost like second nature.
Sieun doesn’t remember the last time his parents, or grandparents at that, had made him a home cooked meal, and despite the weather outside, there’s a warmth blossoming in his chest. He doesn’t remember the last time he had ever felt this loved.
It makes him feel small, and for once, like someone else besides himself is taking care of him.
Sieun eats until he’s uncomfortably full, and he even lets Suho feed him a piece of jeon despite his initial rejection of it (“ eat it, my arm’s getting tired and you need more meat on your bones for the winter ”).
Then they opened gifts.
Suho’s grandma went first, she got a sweater from Suho and mandarins and slippers from Sieun. She had gasped at Sieun’s gift in particular, leaning over to pinch his cheek—it must run in the family, and his cheeks must be pinchable looking.
A few days prior to their small celebration, Sieun decided to take a trip to Jeju.
It was impulsive and out of character for him, but he was determined to get a good gift, he hadn’t seen either of them properly in months.
He had told his dad, which might’ve been a mistake on Sieun’s end, considering he then suggested they go together. Sieun for gifts, his dad for work. Contractual—as things usually are for them.
Sieun went back fairly quickly, he had spent one night in his dad’s annoyingly nice hotel and promptly went home after he was sure the gifts were decent enough.
It wasn’t a big deal, it’s not supposed to be, but Suho’s jaw dropped anyway. “Hey! Did you go to Jeju? These are the nice tangerines.”
“I did.” He answers simply, and Suho frowns.
“Why didn’t you invite me?” Suho pouts, the same one he gives Sieun whenever he refuses to spoon feed Suho his meal. Then he frowns, “did you go alone?”
That voice. The same one he gave Sieun when they were sitting next to each other at karaoke. A quip dies in his throat, “I went with my dad.”
Then he nods, “next time you go, I want to come.”
“Of course.” It’s not even a question. Sieun would go anywhere if it was with Suho. “Open yours.” Sieun coaxes, pointing at the nicely sized bag.
Suho hesitates a moment, trying to hide the grin forming on his face as he pulls the wrapping paper out.
A bag of peanuts—Suho’s favorite snack when he’s peckish—a small box that contained a miniature cake, and a keychain.
The cake was Suho’s favorite flavor, a simple vanilla cake with chocolate frosting, the bakery they made it in was fancy, with all their pastries at ridiculous prices. Suho gasps, pulling at the fork that was attached to the side—Sieun just knew he would want to eat it right away—and shoved a piece in his mouth. “This is amazing.” He murmurs, moaning around a mouthful. Buying expensive pastries was always worth it to see Suho like that.
Then, the keychain.
It’s a plush, orange cat, its eyes closed and in a sitting position. “What’s this?” He asked.
Wordlessly, Sieun pulls his backpack to his lap, gesturing to a matching keychain attached to his zipper, except it’s a black cat. “I have a matching one, read the card attached to it.”
Sieun still has it attached to the cat, detailing the personality type it has.
“The Black Cat
Independent, kind, quiet, good listener, intelligent. The Black Cat doesn’t show emotion very often, but when they do, you know it. They don’t need words to express how they feel about someone, and an Orange Cat is the perfect partner to bring out their emotional side.”
And Suho’s, of course, was the orange cat.
“The Orange Cat
Friendly, charming, outgoing, social. The Orange Cat has a loud personality, openly themselves, always happy to play and have fun. A Black Cat is the perfect partner to tame them.”
Suho’s face softens, “thank you, Sieun.” He clutches the cat tightly, “I love it.” Sieun’s heart soars, and he can’t stop the smile that creeps onto his face, fidgeting with his own keychain. “Open mine!” Suho says, pushing a box towards him.
Sieun carefully pulls at the wrapping paper, opening a cardboard box to reveal a plethora of little things.
Most of them are school supplies, a new notebook, new pens—the really nice ones that write smoothly—and there’s even a new pencil case. “Oh, thank you,” he starts, ripping at the packaging, “I needed a new one, the zipper to mine broke.”
“There’s something else.” Suho gestures to the bottom. Sure enough, when he moves the pack of pens, he sees something else. A weaved bracelet. “Halmeoni helped me make it, I had to redo it like a million times,” Suho pouts, “but look, I have a matching one, and it has our names.”
When Sieun turns it around, his fingers grazing over the beads weaved in with the embroidery string, he reads the words–“SHSE”—and holds it close to his chest. “I love it.”
Sieun puts his hand through it, attempting to grab the ends of it to tighten it with his other hand, and Sieun would’ve pulled the other side with his mouth had Suho not leaned forward and fixed it for him himself. “There, now we’re connected.”
Sieun doesn’t initially react to it, nothing more than a slow blink, but his heart starts feeling funny.
Sieun stays the night, much to Suho’s grandma’s fussing that it would be too cold for him to go at that hour, and that he can go in the morning when the sun comes out.
He agrees because it’s cold and he doesn’t really want to leave yet.
Suho gives him one of his too-big shirts and sweatpants, the ones he has to roll up around his waist and ankles. “Cute.” He had said, ruffling his hair.
It’s such a simple gesture, one that he does all the time given their height difference and how touchy Suho can get, yet something about it still feels different. Maybe the fact he hasn’t done it to him in so long, or that he doesn’t remember the last time it was just the two of them like this. Quiet moments of affection, just the two of them.
They sleep in the same bed, as they usually do on their sleepovers, a rule that Suho proposed–they both had to sleep on the same thing, something about how it made things equal. Sieun just thinks it’s an excuse for Suho to hold onto something that isn’t a pillow when he sleeps.
He always wakes up with an arm draped over his waist, or Suho’s body pressed flush against Sieun’s.
By some miracle–or tragedy, Sieun’s mind immediately says–Suho is at the edge of the bed, there’s at least a foot of distance between them despite the fact he’s splayed out like a starfish.
Sieun feels cold, and it has nothing to do with the crisp air rattling against the windows and walls.
He used to hate Suho’s clingy nature, especially when they’d wake up with tangled limbs and their faces much too close together. But now, being this far, feeling this greedy, he wants more.
Sieun doesn’t want to know where his skin starts and Suho’s ends. He wants his fingertips to lose feeling from the cold, only so Suho can grasp them in his, moving them to his neck that radiates warmth like a space heater.
But he settles for what he’s given, watching his chest rise and fall.
The snow isn’t as thick when spring semester starts, but the first two months Sieun’s still dressing in big puffer jackets and hoodies.
The last time Suho and Sieun had seen each other, the morning after Christmas when Sieun was at the door, Suho had promised to be better about answering messages and calls. Even if both of them knew they wouldn’t see each other until the semester started, maybe even after that.
Still, whether Sieun liked it or not, he had gotten used to Suho’s absence in his school life, he didn’t wait for his call or his text. It was easier, and it didn’t hurt this way.
But he still let himself cling onto that small hope when he did respond, when he updated Sieun on the little things, when for a moment, their texts were back to normal and they couldn’t feel the distance.
School goes well though, all things considered, despite his bad habits still clinging to him, he was getting a little better at doing little things like eating and brushing his teeth. Suho would be proud of him, he always was whenever he’d see Sieun taking care of himself.
There was a dark time during their senior year where Sieun almost didn’t eat at all, all he could think about was college and how close it suddenly all felt and he still had no idea what he was going to do, and the constant pestering from his parents didn’t help either.
Suho did what he did best, he was there for him.
The month before finals and graduation, when both of them had been a little busy and Suho hadn’t been keeping a watchful eye on him, Sieun had forgotten to eat for almost two days, and it was hard to say if he had done anything except study in that time, a lifeless shell walking to and from school.
Sieun had been hunched over his desk, trying to ignore his stomach growling and the way his vision spun, taking another gulp of an energy drink. He had long since stopped pretending that his heart didn’t beat in abnormal ways anytime he had one, but he didn’t care.
What tore him out of it, what always did, was his doorbell. “Delivery!”
Sieun didn’t have the energy to fix his appearance, he knew he looked awful, the way the bags under his eyes clung to his skin, all the cracks in his lips from biting at them too much, his hair a tousled mess, his eyes a little glazed and tired.
He doesn’t remember carrying himself to the door, but Suho’s suddenly in front of him, and his excited grin is diminished to a frown, his eyebrows knit in worry. “Sieun-ah? Are you okay?”
Sieun nods, and he feels like a zombie, probably looks like one too. He steps aside, letting Suho in.
Suho had a bento box in his arms, ushering himself to the living room, he knew their routine quite well. Come over, eat, and then relax. “C’mon, let’s eat.”
Sieun wants to say no, that he has to study, but Suho would only ignore him and force feed him anyway, so he settles himself onto the floor and lets Suho pull out all the little containers and chopsticks. “When was the last time you ate?” Suho asks, there’s an edge to his voice, almost like he doesn’t want to know the answer.
“I don’t know.” Sieun answers, immediately digging into the bowl of rice that gets placed in front of him, he doesn’t even wait for Suho to give him a piece of the meat or kimchi like he usually does.
Suho eventually does, with a few more pieces than usual, but it’s coupled with an “I’m sorry,” and Sieun looks up at him, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “For not being there, I could’ve helped.”
“It’s fine.” Don’t blame yourself. He wants to say, I shouldn’t be your responsibility, please don’t worry about me. But all he can do is shove beansprouts in his mouth.
Sieun’s headache ebbs away slightly, and he’s uncomfortably full, his stomach still getting used to the amount of food he ate. “Did you take a bath yet?” Suho asks while picking up all the containers and putting them back in the bag.
He shakes his head, then Suho smiles, “c’mon, I’ll get the water ready.”
Sieun doesn’t know why, but he lets him.
Maybe it’s the sleepiness, maybe it’s that he already started to miss him in the few days they hadn’t spoken and he’s silently begging for his touch, anything–but he lets him.
They’re both in the bathroom, Suho had started the water and moved in front of Sieun, tugging at the front of his sweater, “can I..?”
The normal Sieun would’ve pushed him away, mumbled something about “I can do it myself, get out.”
But this Sieun, the vulnerable, exhausted one, the one that missed Suho, that wants to be taken care of like this, nods.
So Suho does, pulling it off of him, he’s gentle, like he might shatter him. Then tugs at the hem of his shirt, moving it up and tossing it to the ground. Suho hesitates at his pajama pants, looking at Sieun’s eyes for any sign to stop, to get out, to leave him be, but there isn’t one.
So he does, and in one movement, he pulls his pants off. Sieun doesn’t feel any more vulnerable than he usually does, he bares himself like this in front of Suho everyday, he couldn’t hide himself from him even if he tried. “Do you want to keep these on?” Suho asks softly, gesturing to his underwear. “I don’t mind, you know, we’re both guys.”
Suho seems more flustered than Sieun though, his cheeks a soft pink, his eyes darting everywhere but Sieun. “No, I can take them off.”
Suho lets Sieun fully undress, stepping out of his underwear and turning off the faucet, sitting with his knees up in the bath. He looks up at him through his eyelashes, expectantly.
Sieun watches Suho kneel, grabbing the small container nearby and filling it with the warm water, pouring it over his head carefully. Then he gets the shampoo, massaging it in his hair, scrubbing at it. “You can be more rough.” Sieun says softly, so Suho is, making sure to get a good lather.
It’s silent besides the small droplets of water that fall back into the tub and the quiet scrubbing. And it’s intimate, they had never done anything like this before, and maybe it’s the lack of sleep and food, but Sieun isn’t afraid.
His heart isn’t racing, maybe a little, but it has more to do with the energy drink than anything else, and he isn’t shaking. He feels at home. It feels like they’ve done this a million times.
Maybe the “married couple” comment Suho made once in the past was true. Maybe they always found each other like this.
Suho washes out the shampoo and lathers a rag with soap, scrubbing his chest and neck, having to pull his arms out of the water to get those too.
And then gently pushes him forward to get his back.
Nothing was more intimate and gentle than that, the reality that Sieun was leaving himself this open, and he was not even a little afraid.
“Here, do you want to finish up? I’ll get your clothes.” Suho says, handing him the rag. Sieun nods, getting his legs and the rest of his lower half when Suho leaves the bathroom.
Sieun pulls at the drain once he’s satisfied, slowly getting up and shaking himself out, when Suho returns he gives him one of the towels to wrap around his waist, and the other smaller one Suho uses to dry his hair.
Sieun dries himself as much as he can, then grabs the clothes Suho set on the sink, dressing himself slowly.
Suho ends up helping him halfway, gesturing for Sieun to put his legs through the holes of his pajamas, letting Sieun grip at Suho's shoulders for purchase, and then he helps Sieun pull his hoodie over his head. “There, now let’s brush your teeth.”
It was the night that made Sieun realize a few things. One, and most importantly, he never wants to lose Suho. And two, he’s pretty sure he’d be happy doing this forever, taking care of each other and sleeping in the same bed every night, and three–he can never tell Suho any of that.
Sieun downloads instagram when one of his group members insists on making a groupchat there despite his indignation, and curiosity gets the best of him when his fingers are hovering over his keyboard and Suho’s name pops up in his head.
He knows it’s stupid—Sieun feels like a suspicious girlfriend, stalking his instagram. Suho told him a few years ago he stopped using it too, which gave Sieun even less of a reason to go through it.
But when Suho’s feed pops up, some of the pictures are new.
Sieun knows they’re new because one of them has himself in the background.
He started from the end of summer, and most of them were normal, to be expected. Actually, up until they started university, most of the photos were of Sieun.
His stomach twists as he reads the captions to all of them, “ with Sieunnie :~) ” “ my favorite boy ” “ studying in the summer? really? ” “ he hates when i take pictures of him but hes so cute! ”
Sieun’s cheeks burn—when had he taken these?
Then he shakes his head, that is not the important part here.
It goes from Sieun to pictures of Suho at his university, then to.. Youngyi.
Not just Youngyi, at least not most of them, but it’s them hanging out at different places, eating different types of food together. Sieun is not in any of them. Of course he isn’t, because most of these hangouts–all of these hangouts–he never even knew about.
Except for one, of course, the karaoke day, Sieun remembers that picture, Suho had taken it of all of them. Sieun even has a small smile in it.
Sieun realizes too quickly his worst fears were real—Suho isn’t too busy , he’s just too busy for Sieun .
Sieun had felt Suho slipping from his grasp for a few months now, he had mistakenly thought he had a few more months of ignorance, pretending that they’re still best friends, that they’d always choose each other over anyone else.
And he knew, Sieun knew from the moment Suho had laid his head in his lap and told him he hadn’t meant to ignore him, that it was a lie. But he didn’t know he’d ever see it laid out like this. And his stomach nearly lurches when he clicks on Youngyi’s tagged account, even more pictures of different hangouts.
Then he sees it. A picture of Youngyi and Suho’s grandma.
Sieun blinks back the wet vision that’s blurring the corners of his eyes, Sieun always thought the times he spent over were reserved for them, and only them.
Sieun could take Suho hanging out with other people, he could stand being ignored and thrown to the side, but this–sharing his intimate life, his family, the space that was only meant to be for them .
He chokes out a sob, and in the quiet of his room, there is no one that can comfort him.
For once, Sieun had no idea what to do, what to say. He was completely, utterly lost.
Suho would know what to do in a situation like this. If Sieun was ignoring him like this, if he had invited someone to his apartment, he would’ve already showed up at his door, announced or not, ready to probe for answers.
Would the Suho that’s currently ignoring Sieun still do that? Would this Suho even welcome that sort of intrusion?
Fuck it.
Sieun needed to rip off the bandaid that’s currently holding together their friendship, the one struggling to heal a wound that needs stitches.
Sieun wouldn’t go to Suho’s place, mostly because he doesn’t even know his schedule anymore, he wouldn’t know if he’d even be there, so he settles for the next best thing:
“ Meet me at the Han River at 9PM tonight. Please. ”
It’s Sieun’s last pathetic attempt to see Suho. And he tries to remind himself that Suho’s probably not busy enough to not see the text despite how bad Sieun starts feeling about it. He tries not to think about the photos he saw, how just them popping up in his brain is enough to send him spiraling, enough to make him weak, to beg for forgiveness, for whatever it is he did, he’d never do it again.
He rests his arms against the railing, letting the wind mess up his bangs and run up his shirt. Sieun checks his phone every minute like he might get a text, like time might stop, like Suho might actually come.
It’s 9:15 when Sieun’s eyes start watering— God , he’s being so stupid.
Even if Suho really wasn’t busy, what obligation does Suho have to him? It’s not like they have to text everyday, Sieun knew things would be different when university started. He should’ve prepared himself for this, he’s being overdramatic and slightly petty.
Maybe a part of him just hoped it wouldn’t have changed this much, this quickly.
He’s about to leave, there’s no reason for him to be there, not when the water starts getting too loud, too tempting. Until, “hey, sorry I’m late.”
Sieun whips his head towards the voice, lightly jogging to his side, panting slightly. He’s in his casual clothes, and an ugly part of Sieun wonders if he just came back from hanging out with Youngyi. “Hey.” Sieun mumbles, and he surprises himself by being able to talk without immediately breaking down.
“So, what’s up?” Suho asks, and his expression is unreadable, Sieun can’t tell if he already knows what the conversation is going to be about.
“I got Instagram today.” It’s the first thing that stumbles out of his mouth, Sieun doesn’t know how to bring it up, how to avoid the elephant by tip-toeing around it. Is there ever a good segway for something like this?
Sieun would look it up later.
“Oh,” Suho says, and his face falls enough for Sieun to catch it, “is that it?”
Sieun stays silent for a moment, maybe it could just end there, they don’t have to talk about this, they can go like this for a little while longer, Sieun can keep pretending like his heart doesn’t ache everyday without a message from him, that he wouldn’t rip himself apart for him. “No,” he blurts, “I.. Saw your profile.”
“Did you want me to take the photos of you down?” Suho asks immediately, turning to him, his eyes wide and pleading. And no , Sieun wants to say, if I disappear from you online, I might disappear here too .
“No, I just,” his hands form fists, and his chest feels so tight he can barely breathe, he can barely keep himself from shaking like a leaf, and it has nothing to do with the air turning colder by the minute. “I just thought you’d be texting me more this semester.”
I thought I was important .
Suho sighs, closing his eyes briefly, like he just can’t bear it, like he finally feels the thick atmosphere that’s been around them for months is choking them. “Look, Sieun—“
“No,” he mumbles, “you’re not busy, I’ve seen your pictures.” The dam cracks, if he wasn’t acting like a jealous girlfriend, he was certainly sounding like one now. And Sieun feels himself losing his argument, his resolve.
Though, to that, Suho only barks out a laugh, a confused edge to it, “so?”
And Sieun doesn’t know what to say to that because he’s right. So ? What does it matter? Suho’s allowed to spend time with other people.
When Sieun doesn’t say anything for a while, Suho rubs the spot in between his eyebrows, “Sieun, I’m sorry, really, I promise I’ll hangout with you more, I just—“
The dam breaks.
“You said that last time we saw each other, and the time before that,” Sieun feels warm tears roll down his cheeks, and he fights back a sob, “you can’t just… Ignore me.”
“I’m not ignoring you, Sieunnie.” And the nickname almost makes him forget it all. Almost makes him lean forward and hug him and say I’m sorry, I’m being dramatic, I’ll drop it all, just don’t leave .
“You don’t respond to any of my messages, I thought you were just busy, but you’re not busy enough for your other friends,” Sieun’s voice sounds wet and small. He keeps his head down, refusing to look anywhere but his shoes. Refusing to acknowledge how silly he really sounds. “Just say it, you don’t want to talk to me anymore.” You don’t want me anymore .
“ God .” Suho says, and just from the sound he makes, Sieun’s entire body freezes.
Suho’s mad .
“Sieun-ah, you’re not my girlfriend.” Suho adds, and Sieun wishes he hadn’t. “We don’t have to hangout all the time.” Suho says it so lightly Sieun almost drops it.
It’s stupid, the way his heart drops, the way the tears just won’t stop .
Because he’s right, when it comes to Sieun, Suho will always be right because Sieun will always let him. And he’s right this time, he was right the last time they had an argument.
But it never went that far.
They never used their devotion to each other as ammo, the way they used to cling to each other, holding hands and longing hugs–the way they circled each other like no one else in the world existed. They were just that close, they didn’t need anyone else.
In high school, it used to bother Suho in particular, when knowing glances and whispers got directed at them, when bullies had targeted Sieun one day, when they got too close–” where’s your boyfriend? Not here to protect you ?”
For the first time, Sieun had seen Suho cross the line. For him, of all things.
And they never brought it up, the way they acted around each other, it kept being buried under layers and layers, scarred over and opened again, and Sieun thought it’d never be brought into the open.
At least, not like this.
Mocking , like every other bully that went to their school.
Sieun no longer saw Suho. Not like he once did.
“Fine,” Sieun manages to mutter, looking up to lock eyes with him. A neutral expression over his face with his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”
When Sieun moves to wipe his tears, he feels it.
The bracelet. The matching bracelets.
He pulls his sweater sleeve down to his elbow, hooking his finger onto the weaved string and tugs it off, tossing it at Suho.
It hits him square in the chest and bounces off to the floor. “Keep it, I’m not your girlfriend .”
For a second, there’s a hint of something in Suho’s eyes, something even Sieun can’t read, now downcast to the floor. His lips part, and for a second Sieun wants to stay, he wants to listen to his reasoning, maybe Sieun’s wrong, he wants to be wrong so badly.
But then, Suho frowns and he doesn’t say anything more.
Sieun leaves.
He spends most of the next week in a repetitive routine. One that consisted of studying and going to classes, obligatory almost, filling the gaps that Suho created.
Or the gaps that Sieun made—maybe this was all his fault.
Either way, it didn’t matter, not really. Sieun just needed to get through the semester, the rest of his years at university…without Suho.
It leaves an ugly feeling in his stomach to think about, because without Suho, who even is he?
It’s codependent and a little idiotic, to feel so connected to someone he’s only known for a few years, but Sieun doesn’t know anything before this. He doesn’t know how to be a friend because he’s never been one.
Suho’s right, he’s not a girlfriend .
The words feel so heavy he’s nearly disappointed by them. Had he been playing pretend without even realizing it?
Had all those times curled up against Suho’s chest, his fingers running through his hair, had they been too much?
Sieun doesn’t text. But Suho doesn’t either.
It’s not that Sieun has a lot of pride, not with Suho. It’s that he’s not sure if there’s anything that could even fix this. Neither of them have the capability to.
Or maybe it’s that neither of them really want to. Not when things had been this tense for months. And Sieun has no idea how any of it started.
When Suho had become this distant and cold, the Suho from the bridge was not a Suho that Sieun recognized.
But by some miracle, near the end of the semester, the group from his class ends up getting really close. And it’s refreshing, having somewhere to put his energy, nights out at karaoke, sunsets spent at the basketball court at the school, filled with shouts of laughter.
It’s almost distracting enough.
But when there’s a second of silence, when Sieun’s gaze is somewhere else, he still thinks about it, about Suho. And when he checks his phone, it opens to nothing every time.
One morning, while they’re all sitting outside on the grass, Juntae, the soft-spoken one from the group, shows them a flier he found pinned up in the bathrooms. He, rather shyly, presents it to them, “It might be fun.”
When Sieun leans over, he sees it’s a sign up sheet to volunteer at the museum, “youth cultural volunteers.” Hyuntak, the hot-headed basketball player, read outloud. “Should we?” He grins, and it takes Sieun by surprise.
It didn’t seem like their type of scene, but maybe he was wrong.
“Okay!” Humin, the loud idiot of the group, claps his hands together, “it’s settled, we’ll meet here on Saturday and head over together.”
The rest of them cheer excitedly, and Sieun doesn’t bother arguing, he knows it’s futile once they get like this. And a small hope blooms in his chest that maybe it won’t be horrible, and if anything it’ll be nice to do something instead of study and hope there isn’t one thought about Suho that infiltrates his head.
Sieun gets saddled with Juntae as two kings doing a photo-op, it’s mostly children that come take photos with them, and they usually choose Juntae since Sieun has a hard time smiling for photos. He’s always awkward and uncomfortable, and a part of him fears that a smile might look even more out of place over his features. He doesn’t really know how to fake a smile.
Humin and Hyuntak are the little guides that pass by every so often, with Humin being the one leading the conversation–and usually flirting if he’s with women–and Hyuntak hanging back.
Sieun finds that he doesn’t hate it. Not really. Not with his friends.
He’s thankful once he’s out of the stuffy outfit though, the hoodie he decided to wear was a really bad idea.
At some point, during their break, Juntae and Hyuntak had gone outside to “train”, much to Hyuntak’s insistence, something about how Juntae needed to know how to fight if he was really a king, and left both Humin and Sieun at the chairs, picking at their meals. “So, who is it?” Humin suddenly asked, a small knowing smile over his lips.
“What?” Sieun asked, turning to him. And it’s hard to read Humin sometimes, he’s the only person Sieun’s ever met–besides Suho, but that’s besides the point–that he can’t seem to read. He’d never know what was simmering in that hollow brain of his.
“You have a girlfriend, don’t you?” Humin whispers, leaning towards him like it’s a secret.
“What are you talking about?” Sieun asks, a little louder, his shoulders relaxing slightly, Humin is such an idiot , Sieun should’ve guessed it would be a question about that.
Every time Humin–Baku, more accurately–invites Sieun out to go hit on girls, he rolls his eyes. It’s so immature he’s surprised there are people that still do that in college. And it’s not like he’d ever want to either, not when there’s always going to be someone else in the back of his mind.
“You’re always checking your phone, everytime I bring up girls you get mad, and you have that keychain on your bag.” Humin gestures at the cat on his bag with his chopsticks.
“Is that your evidence?” Sieun mumbles, unconvinced.
“Yeah,” he starts, “unless it's a boy?” Humin asks, almost testing the waters, seeing what Sieun does, what he says.
Sieun freezes. Maybe he’s not that much of an idiot, actually.
“Gotcha!” Humin laughs triumphantly, “so, who is he? Tell me about him.” He’s so proud of himself it almost makes Sieun want to punch him.
Suho, Sieun wouldn’t even know where to start.
He’s been tightlipped about Suho, mostly because if he brings it up he might cry, and there’s no use in being vulnerable. That side of him, the side that got fed and bathed, is only really reserved for Suho.
But he can’t say any of that.
“We’re not…” Dating, he wants to say, but he’s not sure where they even stand at all, so he’s not sure what to say about it. Sieun grimaces, “I don’t know.” He sighs, uncharacteristically soft.
“What happened?” Humin matches his tone, and his facial features soften, which Sieun didn’t know was even possible, he thought he was permanently at a loud octave and confident gaze.
“Nothing.” Sieun doesn’t want to get into it mostly because it’s so embarrassing , and he doesn’t even know what went wrong and if it was even completely Suho’s fault.
Sieun had been expecting too much, missing the life they used to live together, but they’re older now, and college isn’t easier than high school, and Suho’s actually trying this time, and he’s making new friends and Sieun’s just his friend from high school.
Sieun can’t go back no matter how much he runs, he can’t force Suho to love him and beg for their schedules to go back to the way they were. He was being clingy and he got the answer he wanted– he’s not Suho’s girlfriend.
Humin hums, “whatever happened,” he starts, looking out towards their two friends, “I’m sure you two can fix it, and I can tell you really care for him.”
The answer surprises him, and there’s a part in Humin that has dealt with something similar, based on the way he’s looking past Juntae and Hyuntak, to the trees, to the sky, almost like he’s looking for someone. “How?”
“Because the moment I brought him up your eyes lit up.”
Despite how stupid Humin can be, he’s kind of right.
Sieun ruminates over the conversation he and Humin had for a few days, repeating his words over and over.
It almost gives him the courage to reach out, say he’s sorry, that they should talk, lay everything out in the open, even the skeletons they’ve been trying to hide for years.
But he doesn’t. Not right away.
There was a way Sieun had to approach this, like coaxing out a small, traumatized animal, you only had one chance, and you had to do it right.
He thought of writing a letter, though it was too cheesy, and Suho always made fun of his bad handwriting–not that his was any better–he thought about baking him a cake, but he wasn’t sure if a cake exists that says– “I’m sorry for acting like a girlfriend and making you upset.”
Sieun had one chance, and he wasn’t sure if he could create an apology that Suho would accept.
It happens when Sieun’s at the basketball court, he had learned recently how to properly shoot a basket, and ever since then he’d actually been getting pretty into the game. There was nothing professional about the way the four of them played, two against two and both Juntae and Sieun were a bit of a liability. And the only people that took it a little too seriously were, no surprise, the two basketball players.
Still, it’s fun even to just watch them bicker, or entertain the little chases they do, Baku holding the basketball in the air threateningly. Their current argument, one they’d had dozens of times, was whether a shot Hyuntak made even counted, and Sieun could easily remind them this isn’t real , but it’s a little fun keeping his mouth closed.
Juntae seems to think the same from next to him.
Then, his phone buzzes in his pocket.
Sieun nearly jolts in surprise, the sound is so out of place in the rhythm of their footsteps against the court that his breath gets caught in his throat and he instinctively freezes.
He freezes mostly because all the people that ever text him are in front of him right now , and he’s pretty sure none of them sent a text. Especially the two currently at each other’s throats.
Sieun pulls away for a moment, pulling his phone out and taking a breath before he looks.
The air gets stolen from his lungs and his blood nearly runs cold.
“ Can we please talk? I’m sorry.”
And Sieun, despite everything, can never say no to Suho.
They meet at a convenience store, Suho’s sitting by a table outside, and his posture is almost unrecognizable. His legs are not spread apart, letting his head fall back and his hands tucked in his pockets. Instead, his knees are pressed together, hunched over the table like he’s fallen ill, but his head snaps up to the sound of Sieun’s footsteps. “Sieun-ah.”
Sieun’s grip on the hem of his hoodie tightens. “What do you want?” Cold. Distant. Don’t let him open your chest and look inside.
But his resolve was already cracking just by being there, a silent promise that he would hear him speak, Sieun would listen. And despite it all, they could fix this.
And all it took was one look–Sieun would let Suho ruin him.
“I just…” Suho sighs, standing up, hesitantly walking over to him, when he gets closer, under the dim fluorescent lighting, Sieun can see faint tear marks. “I’m sorry, I’m going to tell you everything.”
And this is what Sieun wanted, isn’t it? The truth?
Would it destroy him or put him back together? The part of Sieun that hadn’t stopped running doesn’t want to know, just wants things to stop being so complicated, for his feelings to not get in the way of everything.
“Do you remember those rumors that started our senior year?” Suho asks, and Sieun blinks, taken aback by the question.
“I do.” Sieun isn’t sure what made it start that year, but the rumor that they were a couple had spread like wildfire. Was it the gentle touches? The too long gazes, the way their hands fit together like puzzle pieces? Or had it just been because they were always stuck at the hip?
“It… It made me really angry.” Suho started, shoving his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker, “and I didn’t know why, not at first.”
Sieun’s grateful that he never really saw that side of Suho, the anger in him had manifested into protecting Sieun, from the rumors, from the bullies. But there was a storm that Sieun never saw.
“I wanted to protect you from it, that way you didn’t have to feel the way I did, I could take it, I could take any rumor as long as it didn’t bother you,” Suho begins fidgeting with something in his pocket, Sieun can see the outline of his fingers. “But then.. I thought about why it made me so mad.”
Sieun’s breath hitches. And maybe this is the time to run, there’s still time, he can still cover his ears and protect his heart.
He doesn’t. “I got mad because a part of me wanted the rumors to be true,” and his voice breaks, “I hated that part of myself, and I kept trying to hide it.”
Sieun’s eyes widened. It was too late, he had let Suho in, Sieun’s heart was in his hands, and they were sharing the same heartbeat.
Suho clears his throat, wiping the stray tear that had fallen, “I thought university would fix me, if I just met a pretty girl, it would go away, the feeling,” he mumbled, and despite their height difference, Sieun had never seen him look so small . “And I got scared when it didn’t, I knew I had to pull away and that was the only way to make it stop.”
Sieun’s fingers twitch at his sides, he wants to reach out, touch him, tell him it’s okay, that he’s here, he’d always be here. But Sieun’s frozen.
“Sometimes I’d go see you and it would all come back, and I just couldn’t stop myself,” Suho ran his fingers through his hair, then clenched his fists. “I wanted you, I want you, I still do, and I can’t make the feeling go away.”
Sieun had promised himself he hadn’t wanted things to change, that he just wanted to spend time with Suho, for nights to be theirs again, but when his dreams are handed to him like this, so openly, when his daydreams are suddenly not so far away, change doesn’t seem as scary.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for saying that-that girlfriend thing, I know that was.. low, and I’m no better than those stupid fucking bullies from high school,” a glint of a memory passes through him, and Sieun catches his teeth gritting together for a moment, “you don’t have to forgive me though, but I figured you deserved the truth.”
Suho’s eyes are downcast, and he looks similar to a kicked puppy.
Sieun is torn between the part of him that just misses his best friend and the one that wants something more, something deeper. Sieun wants to be able to say that he’s Suho’s , that Suho is his , and everything seems right .
But something still gnaws at him. The truth, maybe. The truth that baring himself like this is something Sieun might never be able to come back from. The truth that one wrong word, one wrong action, and their delicate love will become shattered and broken.
The truth–that it doesn’t scare Sieun at all.
“I forgive you.” Sieun says softly, and Suho’s head snaps up at him, eyes wide and his lips parting and closing like a fish.
“Why?” Suho asks, and it’s not something they’d ever asked each other, forgiveness came easily when they argued over stupid stuff, like Suho bothering Sieun so much that Sieun ended up getting a less than desired grade and didn’t speak to him for a week, forgiveness didn’t need to be questioned.
But this, why ? Why would Sieun do anything else except leave?
He got what he wanted, he got the truth . They could stop there, years of friendship could be left at that convenience store, parts of them could die there if Sieun let it.
“Because…” And how can Sieun put it into words exactly? That he would let Suho destroy him if it meant that he could be by his side forever? That the idea of commitment would never scare Sieun if it was with Suho. “I love you.”
It’s the only words that his brain keeps repeating, a broken record stuck in his head, the only thing that could even begin to portray the extent of his true feelings.
Suho’s initial shock does nothing to stop him from bridging the gap between the two, his fingers brushing Sieun’s nape–and he shivers at the touch–his thumb running across the smooth skin of Sieun’s cheek.
Suho’s so close that his breath ghosts over his lips, Sieun’s hands are resting on his shoulders, inexperienced and a little confused, he still wants this, their bodies flush against each other, close enough that Sieun can smell his cologne.
Sieun’s eyes flutter close.
It’s clumsy and uncoordinated, and Sieun’s not sure who leaned in first, nor does he have any idea what he’s doing, but their lips mold against each other like missing puzzle pieces. Suho’s arms move down to wrap themselves around Sieun’s middle, deepening it, pushing and pulling, messy and gentle, fast and slow.
Sieun pulls away first, noting the way Suho’s lips are wet and swollen, his cheeks flushed. He smiles, that shy one that he always tries to hide, and then, he gasps, “I almost forgot.” Suho reaches into his pocket, the one where he was messing with something, and pulls out Sieun’s bracelet. “No matter how things went, I wanted you to have it.”
Sieun doesn’t even need to ask, doesn’t even need to do anything, Suho helps him put it on and tighten it.
SHSE. He repeats the letters over and over.