Archive of Our Own

“Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means we’re inconsolable. Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.”

— Richard Siken, ‘Scheherazade’

✵✵

“Do you have to go?” Sunghoon asked his ceiling, as Jay rustled around, picking his clothes up off the floor.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jay said, his voice muffled as he tugged his shirt on. The problem was that he sounded genuinely apologetic. His head popped up through his collar, “I promised Jake I’d go over to his place to help him review his flashcards on resultant force-torques or whatever.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, sitting up and leaning back on his hands. “I didn’t know you understood advanced physics.”

“I don’t,” Jay hummed as he hunted for his jeans next, rifling through the pile of fabric on Sunghoon’s carpet. He made a triumphant noise when he successfully located them, talking as he yanked them up his long legs, “I threw physics away after tenth grade, but you know, Jake’s a huge nerd hellbent on torturing himself with summer courses and I made a promise, so. I’m just there for moral support, honestly. I don’t understand a thing.”

How nice it must be, Sunghoon thought, to be on the receiving end of Jay’s promises. “If you can’t help him study, maybe you can just stay,” he ventured hesitantly, bracing himself. Stay with me, he wanted to beg. Don’t go, don’t think about him, just come back to bed and be with me. 

As expected, Jay shook his head, working his belt buckle through the last notch. “I want to be there for him, it’s okay. He doesn’t really expect me to help, he knows I can’t do science.” Through the dark, Sunghoon could see the private smile curling the corners of his mouth up, quietly illuminating his face. His heart clenched. “Why?” Jay asked, gathering his phone and his wallet now. “Do you need me to stay?”

Looking down at his fidgeting fingers, Sunghoon said, “It was just an offer. I just—I meant—you can stay if you like.”

Jay laughed softly, “It’s really nice of you to offer, Hoon, but you don’t have to. I know this is just sex.”

It’s not just sex to me. But Sunghoon didn’t say that. “Well, maybe, but… we’re friends too, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are,” Jay replied, uncharacteristically flippant. See, the thing about Jay was that he was always earnest, to the point of almost overdoing it. Sunghoon couldn’t tell if the sentiment just meant that little to him, or if he was the first person to inspire dishonesty in the other boy. He wasn’t sure which was worse. “Okay, I think I’m decent, so I’m going now. Am I forgetting anything?”

Yeah. Me. Sunghoon didn’t say that either. Once again, he said tentatively, “Last chance to stay. I can’t cook, but my neighbour tends to bring me her leftovers, and she makes a really mean stir fry.”

“Pretty privilege rears its head once again,” Jay teased. “And really, Hoon, I’m okay. I’m only going because I want to.” Fuck. Sunghoon clenched his hands into fists, the bedsheets crumpling in his grip. “Why are you being so persistent about this, anyway?”

Sunghoon sighed under his breath. “Because I love you,” he whispered mournfully, voice pitched low so only he could hear.

But Jay’s head snapped around anyway, his eyes blown wide open, “What did you just say?”

Sunghoon felt like a bucket of ice had just been dumped over his head, cold dread slithering down his spine. His throat tightened so hard and fast he could barely breathe, much less speak. I said I love you, part of him wanted to scream in Jay’s stricken face. I love you, is that so wrong? Is it the worst thing to ever happen to you? I said I love you, why do you always say nothing back? But all he managed to croak out past the heaviness of his ribs, the paper-thin friability of his heart was, “I said I’ll drive you.” Jay stared at him, and he knew then that neither of them believed him. For a long moment, they perched on that midnight wire, a balancing act on Sunghoon’s lifeline.

Maybe this time, he dared to think, dared to hope. Maybe he won’t pretend he didn’t hear anything, maybe he’ll stay the night, maybe he won’t go running back to—

Jay averted his gaze, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Okay. Thanks.”

Of course. Never mind.

Sunghoon’s heart cracked, but he forced himself to smile as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Back turned to Jay, he said into the gloom, “It’s no problem.”

✵✵

Contrary to popular belief, Jay had actually kissed Sunghoon first.

The minute they’d all been done with finals, their entire friend group had piled into the sleek Palisade Jake had rented, just in time before their dorms threw them out of residence for the summer. Jay had convinced his parents to let them all stay in the family’s beach house overlooking Puget Sound for a week, and was thus the authority on their entire itinerary, including their mode of transportation: he had insisted on a full road trip experience, despite the drive only being 50 minutes. Jake had decided to indulge his best friend’s whims and sat up front with him as he drove, even switching off at the halfway mark. Sunghoon had watched Jay as he’d clambered back into the shotgun seat, his entire face aglow, talking Jake’s ear off the second the boy got behind the wheel.

Sunghoon had found himself watching Jay often even before, but it was at that moment he’d realized that looking away was impossible. He hasn’t looked away since.

But Sunghoon wasn’t an idiot. Even if he hadn’t been staring at Jay all the time, he’d have to have been completely blind to not see how Jay was always staring at Jake, eyes alight as if the stars themselves had given birth to his best friend. As if everything about the boy was a miracle. Sunghoon wasn’t an idiot: he knew best friends didn’t look at each other that way. His own best friend, Heeseung, looked at him like he was a mildly entertaining raccoon most days.

Thus, he’d spent most of the week dodging Jay’s company. When it was all seven of them, eating together at the table or bickering over their teams for beach volleyball, it hadn’t been so bad — Sunghoon had been able to trail after Heeseung like a lost puppy, or cling to Riki’s sleeve, steadfastly ignoring his shameless flirting with Jungwon. You win some, you lose some. It had gotten to the point where Sunghoon had accidentally followed his best friend into the bathroom once, and was promptly marched out with an order to ‘stop mooning around like a twelve-year-old girl and get a grip’.

Sunghoon probably needed a new best friend. It was quite true that familiarity bred contempt.

Other than nearly becoming Heeseung’s personal voyeur, Sunghoon’s plan of avoiding Jay had been a success, up until the very last day before they’d gone back to the city. He’d situated himself on the steps of the front porch, watching his friends participate in a perverse facsimile of dodgeball on the beach; they seemed to be purposely aiming at parts that God had only intended to be treated nicely. He winced when Sunoo spiked a ball that hit Jungwon square in the upper thigh, dangerously close to the bullseye. Jungwon went down with a shriek.

“And there Riki goes, playing hero again—oh, never mind. He face-planted,” a voice behind him remarked dryly. A shiver ran its fingers over Sunghoon’s skin.

“Yeah,” he forced himself to reply, keeping his gaze trained ahead on Riki as the boy got a mouthful of sand trying to rush over to Jungwon’s aid. At least Jungwon was laughing now. Even from here, Sunghoon could see Heeseung’s eye roll. “What a loser.”

Jay snorted, his footsteps creaking on the weathered wooden planks as he came to sit by Sunghoon. Unconsciously, Sunghoon felt himself go stiff. His plan had been doing so well up until that moment; which god decided to ambush him with Jay alone just when he’d finally let his guard down? “They were just as bad in high school, trust me. It was excruciating watching Riki trip over himself trying to impress Jungwon and Jungwon pretending not to care but then giggling and kicking his feet in private. This push-and-pull is getting old.”

“Yeah. Maybe they should just be honest about what they want.” Sunghoon was such a fucking hypocrite. Luckily, Jay was none-the-wiser and not much better than he was.

“They should,” Jay agreed, and when Sunghoon finally turned to look at him, he immediately had to look away. His skin was so golden under the setting sun, the angles and planes of his face casting shadows that were as beautiful and terrible as a falling angel. He would’ve had Michelangelo weeping at his feet. His gaze was wistful as he stared out towards the strip of beach their friends were on, and Sunghoon didn’t need to be a genius to guess who he was looking at. Sunghoon glowered at the point where the ocean met the horizon, wishing the waves would roll up the shore and engulf him whole. “Everything would be better if people were just honest about loving other people.”

“Yep.” If it wasn’t obvious by now, Sunghoon was a real wordsmith.

Jay slanted a side-long glance at him. “You know, I’ve noticed something really strange this week.”

“What is it?” Sunghoon tried sounding casually curious, but his voice was terse even to his own ears.

“You’ve been avoiding me. I mean, you don’t ignore me in group settings or anything, but it’s just this feeling, and…” Jay hesitated. “Jake said some weird shit about how he thinks you have a crush on me, but I think I did something wrong.”

Sunghoon could taste his heartbeat on his tongue. “What,” he managed. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Jay sighed. “Okay, look. You’re saying that, but you’ve only been acting differently around me, so it has to be about me, right? I’m not being crazy, so don’t tell me that I am,” he added quickly when Sunghoon squinted at him. “It’s not in my head, Jake said he feels it too.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way,” Sunghoon said. “But really, you haven’t done anything to upset me. Don’t worry about it.”

“See, you aren’t even talking to me like we’re friends! You sound like you’re giving a report to HR or something.” Jay’s eyes gleamed with hurt. Sunghoon mentally clubbed himself over the head repeatedly. “Just tell me what I did so I can grovel for forgiveness.”

“There’s no need for any grovelling.”

“Hoon. Come on, it’s just me.”

Sunghoon stayed silent. Jay swallowed, his expression contorting into something bordering on panic.

“Jake thought maybe it was because on the way here I said your kneecaps are as big as your head. I’m sorry, it was a bad joke, I wasn’t trying to bodyshame you—”

“I definitely didn’t take it as you bodyshaming me—”

“Well, Jake also said—”

Ugh. Jake said, Jake thought, Jake Jake Jake. It had barely been five minutes since they’d started talking and Jay had already brought up his best friend four times. Sunghoon liked the other boy, he did, but if he had to hear his name one more time… “You’re beautiful,” he interrupted Jay without thinking.

His friend stared at him, blinking. “What?”

Shit. “You’re beautiful,” Sunghoon repeated slowly, tentative. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve said that, but he couldn’t take it back now. Might as well be honest about what he wanted. “So it’s hard to look at you sometimes, you know, like trying to stare at the sun? Your eyes would burn if you looked for any longer than a second, so your survival instincts force you to look away.”

For once, Jay was speechless, his mouth agape. “Oh. So you, um…”

Maybe Sunghoon had said too much. Fuck. Heeseung was right, he did need to get a grip. Internally, he cringed at himself. “You know what, forget I said anything. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”

He was promptly cut off by Jay leaning over and pressing their mouths together. Sunghoon’s brain short-circuited and blew a fuse. For a few seconds, he was completely frozen; until Jay seemed to sense that he was kissing a statue, and made to break away. The loss of his soft lips was a knife that cut through the fog in Sunghoon’s mind, electrifying him into action. He wrapped Jay into the crook of his arm and pulled him back in, mapping the curve of his bottom lip, worshipping the scar there.

Jay tilted his head, and the kiss deepened into an almost unbearable heat. His hand came up to rest on the nape of Sunghoon’s neck, and a white-hot shiver lanced through Sunghoon when his fingertips grazed the knob at the top of his spine. The scrape of his teeth along Sunghoon’s bottom lip was wanton and earth-shattering. Jay tasted like hot honey and the sea-salt in the air, like every sensation that had ever exploded into existence had been distilled into the pad of his tongue, stars-sharp against the roof of Sunghoon’s mouth.

Sunghoon was unmoored. In that moment, he knew: he was fucked.

When they finally broke apart to breathe, Jay’s eyes were hazy, as if he was caught in a dream, and was trying to shake himself awake. Sunghoon would’ve died a thousand times over just to immortalize that expression on his face, to keep it for himself. Selfishly, possessively, he wished he could keep Jay for himself. 

“That was, um…” Jay swallowed, his breaths still uneven. Fervently, Sunghoon prayed that the other boy didn’t say it was a mistake. He couldn’t bear it if he did. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to throw myself at you like a starving animal. I promise I’m normal and not desper—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Sunghoon said, so fiercely he even startled himself. He didn’t want to hear that Jay regretted it or didn’t have feelings for him. Jay blinked. “No, I’m not mad, it’s just—don’t be sorry. I liked it.” Understatement of the year. Sunghoon the Wordsmith was back.

But the way Jay smiled at him, shy and syrupy like a sunrise, made him feel like the sentiment was enough. Unfortunately, that was Jay’s talent — making the smallest things feel like they could be enough. Like if Sunghoon amassed enough pieces, they’d snowball into something big enough that felt like Jay loved him back.

✵✵

In the next couple of weeks after they got back from Puget Sound, the group dispersed into smaller factions. Sunghoon moved into his new apartment, less than ten minutes away from Heeseung’s, and got a job at the baseball stadium. His housewarming party had just been him and Heeseung sitting on the floor sharing an extra large pizza, using an unpacked box as a table; Sunoo and Jungwon had also dropped by for half an hour with a shitty six-pack of beer, wrinkling their noses at the cooling grease on the pizza. His days were a monotonous routine — wake up, go to work, go to Heeseung’s place to make sure his best friend didn’t set his kitchen on fire, eat ramen straight from Heeseung’s pot and then go home. Rinse and repeat. He filled his days and made do, pretending that his mind wasn’t filled with Jay, pretending he didn’t see the solemn gaze Heeseung leveled at him sometimes. Pretending his dreams weren’t consumed by the memory of Jay’s mouth under his, open and opiate.

He got very good at pretending.

Until he was driving home one day, thunder rumbling through the grey skies, when he saw Jay stomping down the sidewalk. The summer heat had slithered in through the cracks of spring and situated itself with a firm fist, but Jay was shaking. Was he cold? Maybe he was extra sensitive to the metallic tang from the incoming storm. Sunghoon wasn’t thinking properly when he jerked the steering wheel to the right, pulling over next to Jay. The surprise on the other boy’s face as Sunghoon rolled his window down was almost comical.

“Sunghoon?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you?” Sunghoon fired back, arching an eyebrow. “You look like hell.” He didn’t, actually. He looked perfect, even with the wind blowing his hair into his eyes and his lips chapped. It was annoying.

Jay sighed, “Jake was supposed to drive me home, but we got into a fight, and—whatever. So I’m walking home.”

“How much further away is it?”

Jay shrugged. “About fifteen minutes.”

On impulse, Sunghoon blurted, “Get in the car. I’ll drive you.”

Jay cocked his head, coming over to lean in the window, one hand braced on the car roof. “Are you sure? Where are you staying right now? If it’s too out of the way, I don’t want to impose—”

Sunghoon snorted at his rambling, “Don’t be ridiculous. Just get in the car, Jongseong.” It was something he’d only ever heard Jake call Jay, but the name always seemed to make Jay give Jake his full, undivided attention.

Sunghoon hadn’t been expecting much, considering he wasn’t Jake and he couldn’t ever be, but Jay actually listened. The other boy sighed, getting into the car without another word of protest, dutifully buckling himself in. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It’s just straight ahead for ten blocks, and then make a left and it’s another three blocks.” He was still shivering.

Sunghoon shifted the gear into drive, quietly rolling up the window and turning up the heat. “Do you wanna talk about why you fought with Jake?”

Jay stared down at his hands, twisting together in his lap, “Not really.” He was silent as Sunghoon drove for a few blocks, and then he suddenly said, “Do you remember Yeonjun?”

“Yeah?” Sunghoon glanced at the other boy out of the corner of his eye. “He was our RA, right? Part of the KSA’s committee too, if I’m not mistaken. He was really cool.”

“Sure,” Jay said, though he didn’t sound like he was an upstanding member of the Yeonjun Appreciation Society. “Did you know he had an interest in Jake?”

“I didn’t, actually.”

“Did you notice him acting, I don’t know, strangely around Jake?” Jay pressed. “Did you ever see him creeping in the hallway or lingering around Jake’s room?”

“Can’t say I did.” Sunghoon was going to regret asking. “Why?”

“He asked Jake out,” Jay seethed, and when Sunghoon looked over again, his jaw was clenched, hands curled into trembling fists. He’d never been cold, Sunghoon realized. He’d been shaking from rage. Sunghoon’s heart plummeted into his stomach. He really regretted asking. “I mean, he’s so much older than us—”

“He’s two years older.”

“There’s gotta be some kind of power imbalance, right?” Jay continued to rant as if Sunghoon hadn’t spoken. “It’s weird, pursuing a minor at his grown age—”

“Jake’s 19. And once again, Yeonjun is only two years above us. He’s still a student.”

“And the age gap must’ve pressured Jake into saying yes, because that idiot actually said yes!” Jay was nearly yelling at this point. “Yeonjun needs to be put on neighbourhood watch. He was our RA, he’s seen us at our most vulnerable and now he’s preying on Jake and taking advantage. And Jake, that blind motherfucker, refuses to believe that he’s a victim in this, because he’s an asshat who won’t fucking listen to me.”

“Our most vulnerable?” Sunghoon asked dryly. “You mean when we accidentally took those weed brownies at a party and found out Jake is turbulent when he’s high because he kept either hugging the toilet or crying into it?”

“It had been a difficult time for him.”

“Right.”

Jay looked at him, and exhaled a frustrated breath. “You think I’m being ridiculous too.”

“No,” Sunghoon corrected, flicking his blinker on to turn even though there was no one else on the road. “I think you’re jealous.”

There was nothing but the ticking sound of the indicator for a long second. Sunghoon purposely did not look in Jay’s direction at all. “Jealous?” the other boy finally spluttered. “I’m not jealous. Why would I be? I’m just looking out for Jake, he’s been my best friend since we were nine. I know he gets hurt easily.”

“Right,” Sunghoon said again. “If you say so.”

“I do say so. What, you think you know him better than me?”

“I think you have feelings for him,” Sunghoon said as evenly as he could, “and I think you’re in denial.”

Jay gaped at him. “What the fuck. I’m not in denial!”

“See, that’s anger right there. You’ve got two more stages before you reach acceptance.”

“Okay, stop. This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, I’m trying to get you to see that you’re acting irrationally because of your huge, immense, romantic feelings.” They were in front of Jay’s building. Sunghoon screeched to a sudden stop, throwing them both forward in their seats. Jay gasped, and Sunghoon swivelled around to face him.

“What’s your problem?” Jay snapped, white in the face. “Why do you care so much if I have feelings for Jake?”

Why did Sunghoon care? He resisted the urge to seize Jay by the shoulders, to shake him and scream. Because he doesn’t love you like that. But I do, he wanted to yell. So let it be me. Let me be the one, let me love you. But he didn’t say that. What he did say was, “You get hurt easily too.”

“So?” Jay said impatiently. “Jake would never try to hurt me.”

“So I care about when you get hurt, just like I care when you’re happy or frustrated or hopeful or lonely. I just care. And just because he wouldn’t hurt you doesn’t mean you aren’t hurting anyway.”

Jay paused, eyes wide. He was so close that Sunghoon could see everything. The scar on his bottom lip, the fading cut on his jaw from when he’d nicked himself while shaving, the stray eyelash marooned on his cheekbone. The dilation of his pupils, the lighter ring of his irises like slow-melting umber. He was as bitter and sweet as stardust. He was so beautiful it physically hurt. “Sunghoon,” he said hoarsely, and the sound of his name in Jay’s mouth ricocheted through him like shattering wood. He’d turn the memory of it over and over in his hands later like splinters. “I…”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know that I care.”

Jay nodded, then swallowed. “What if, you know, you and I—” he hesitated, looking up at Sunghoon through his lashes. He was a siren, and Sunghoon was running his ship aground into some mythical, barren shore for this malady. “Could we go back to your place?”

Sunghoon shouldn’t have said yes. He shouldn’t-have a lot of things, to be honest. He shouldn’t have stopped his car, shouldn’t have stopped his heart just to be a fraction of Jay’s world. He shouldn’t have loved him.

But he did anyway. 

He would do anything for Jay. He would do everything for him, for this damnation — his riptide, his ruination.

✵✵

When they fell through the threshold of Sunghoon’s front door, their hands were clumsy, crumpling fabric in their haste to touch every inch of skin available.

“Sorry,” Sunghoon managed to say between frenzied kisses, internally cringing at the dishes he’d left in the sink this morning. “It’s really messy right now because I’m not here a lot—”

“Does it look like I care about the mess?” Jay stressed, ripping Sunghoon’s shirt up and over his head.

“No,” Sunghoon acquiesced. He finished with Jay’s buttons and shoved his shirt off his shoulders, stumbling further into his apartment. They fetched up against Sunghoon’s bedroom door, and Sunghoon had to stifle a broken noise when Jay’s open mouth latched onto the delicate skin of his throat. Maybe if he didn’t sound like he wanted this too much, Jay would want him a little more, want him enough to continue participating in this colossal lapse of judgement. Maybe if he acted like this was casual, it could become the truth — this barb could turn into a distant blade, a faraway knife.

Still, it was fine if it didn’t. Having Jay in his arms was better than having to imagine him there.

Sunghoon felt insatiable, fingers pressing into Jay’s golden skin so hard they would probably leave bruises behind. Deep down, he hoped that they did, so he could pretend for a moment that it meant Jay was his and his alone. He hoped he could become an indelible mark.

“Sunghoon, come on,” Jay whined when Sunghoon scratched his nails down his waist. His voice was already wrecked, and they hadn’t even done anything yet. All of the blood Sunghoon had left in his brain rushed downwards. He was dashed apart by how fiercely he wanted. He wanted the dry, peeling warmth of Jay’s mouth, the calluses on his hands, every sigh and shiver and square inch of him that was up for the taking.

“Okay, I got you. I got you,” Sunghoon murmured, kicking the door open and tipping them into bed, yanking Jay’s jeans open as they went. He took his own sweet time memorizing the ridges and valleys of Jay’s body, drinking down his potent sounds of rapture, grinding their centers together to hear him whimper. Jay’s fingers twisted into his hair, striking a white hot match against his nerves, coaxing an untameable flame to the surface. An unforgivable fire.

“Hoon, please. Please,” Jay pleaded, voice hoarse, hands scrabbling over Sunghoon’s waistband. “Want you closer—need you, please.”

Want you, need you. But never I love you, never the words Sunghoon wanted to hear echoed back at his aching soul. Sunghoon swallowed back the bitter taste of greed, collecting Jay’s nectar on his tongue, praying it would be enough. It had to be. It had to transform them into an anonymous tangle of appendage, it had to alleviate this cursory addiction. It had to dull every wish Sunghoon had ever made on a wishing star.

“I got you,” Sunghoon said again, soothing. He watched Jay open himself up with slick fingers, feverish and trembling, and he didn’t let himself blink or look away, not even for a second. These pieces were enough. This was enough. 

When Jongseong sank down on him at last, their breaths mingled, harsh and hungry. Sunghoon’s hands settled on Jay’s hips, hypnotized. With every frantic push and pull, he brought them closer and closer to the inferno, his head full of nothing but sparks. He let himself luxuriate in the feel of the taut silk of Jay’s skin, let himself be mesmerized as he watched the place where their bodies became one. “Let go, Jay,” he whispered. “Give it to me.”

And when Jay finally shattered, jamming his palm against his mouth to stifle his screams, Sunghoon followed him all the way down, eager to burn.

✵✵

When Sunghoon stirred awake, after, the sky had gone dark and the sheets were cold.

A quick check of his phone told him it was just past midnight, and he had five missed calls from Heeseung. Nothing from Jay. Exhaling a breath, he tossed his phone onto the bed, sinking back on his pillows. A faint memory tickled his brain — a weight rolling off the mattress, the rustling of fabric and padding footsteps that stopped next to his head. A quiet whisper of, “I’m sorry.” and the final click of a shutting door.

Sunghoon wished Jay wouldn’t be sorry. He wished the other boy would stay, he wished he would love him back. He wished the gold of the afterglow would trickle on into the daylight.

For just a second, Sunghoon hated him. Is the crime mine, he thought bitterly, or is it yours? Is it my fault for loving you like fire, loving your all? Or is it yours for loving none of me, for standing by and watching me trip and fall?

But it only lasted a second. This was just another piece Jay had let him take, and Sunghoon had always known. He’d known from the very beginning. Jay could never have given him his heart — so he gave Sunghoon the crook of his fingers, the bend of his knees, the curvature of his ink-dark lashes. He gave him all of his corners and edges, the parts of himself that he could afford to give away. And like the fool that he was, Sunghoon collected them all, like morning light drinking down dew, like a shore clutching shells even after the tide washed away. A sheer drop, a wistful orchard. Jay exploded into him, and he became nothing more than a bullet wound, hoarding shrapnel like a dragon curling up around its gold. There was no one else to blame.

He’d done this alone. He’d made this inevitable.

The other side of the bed would remain cold, and Sunghoon couldn’t pretend to believe that he’d ever been Jay’s centerfold. He already knew he’d take any piece of Jay that he could get. He would fall asleep next to Jay’s body and the shadow of Jake’s ghost, if that was all he could ever have. He would submerge himself in whatever Jay chose to leave behind, drenched from head to toe in mercury and wine. A concoction fit for a concubine.

✵✵

Sunghoon did not want to be here.

He hated malls in general, but he hated this one in particular, because there was a skating rink spanning the ground floor. The pain from his career-ending injury had mostly ebbed away, but seeing people skate freely on the ice made his leg twinge again. He would never have chosen a mall as the place for a hangout, but his friends had all wanted to come here for the extraordinarily cold air-conditioning, so he’d agreed despite Heeseung’s concerns. The summer heat was getting unbearable. He kept his gaze trained on the floor, staring at his sneakers as he gripped his best friend’s wrist. 

“Jake and Riki are gonna be late,” was Jungwon’s grumpy greeting when Heeseung and Sunghoon walked up to their waiting friends. Perhaps he hated malls as well. “Well, later than they already are. Why am I the only one who’s ever on time.”

“Ignore him,” Jay said lightly, leaning against a pillar, the lines of his body lithe and strong. He looked so good it should’ve been criminal. “He’s just sulking because Riki’s coming from another hangout with his JSS friends, which means Jungwon wasn’t able to monopolize all of his attention today.”

Jungwon hissed like an angry cat. “Shut up,” he said, which meant Jay was right. Heeseung snorted.

“And what about Jake?” Sunghoon didn’t know how to keep his fucking mouth shut, he really didn’t. Sunoo turned to answer him, but of course, Jay beat him to it.

“On a date.” Sunghoon hadn’t thought the expression ‘green with envy’ was literal until that moment. Jay was positively chartreuse. Sunghoon let go of Heeseung, flexing his fingers. 

“Yes,” Sunoo chimed in dryly. “He’s on a very lovely date with Yeonjun, who is also very lovely.”

“I’m gonna make sure he gets put on a watchlist,” Jay muttered, half to himself. “He’ll either catch a case or my fucking fist in his face.”

“Relax, Boy Wonder.”

“He will die in humanity’s pursuit of a better world.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, looking at Sunghoon. Sunghoon wisely kept his mouth shut this time. “Ignore him too. This has been my entire morning, by the way. Light Yagami over here has written Yeonjun’s name down in his death note over a hundred times by now. This is why only Jake can stand him for more than five minutes.”

“Your mom likes me more than she likes you,” Jay sniped back before Sunghoon could reply. Sunoo’s affronted scoff was lost in the ensuing mini-tussle. Sunghoon sighed inwardly, glancing at Heeseung, who was awkwardly patting Jungwon’s shoulder as the other boy ranted about how Riki was spending all of his time with some guy called Maki or Taki or something.

This was why Sunghoon had said they should recruit a token lesbian for their group. He even offered up his other best friend, Wonyoung. But no, nobody else saw the pitfalls of a bunch of gay men only hanging around each other all the time. Jesus.

Just then, Riki rounded the corner, sleek and cutting an intimidating figure with his layered necklaces and chains hanging from his low-slung jeans. As usual, though, this was all negated when he spotted Jungwon. His entire demeanour shifted like sunlight breaking through cloud cover, bounding over to the other boy with a puppy-like enthusiasm. Sunghoon could practically see his eyes sparkling, even behind his dark sunglasses. “Oh, look,” Sunoo said with false cheer. “Another lovesick idiot. No shortage of those around here.”

Sunghoon, unfortunately, had to agree. Jungwon pretended he didn’t hear anything; he was good at that. 

“Jungwon! Hey guys, sorry, have you been waiting long?” Riki smiled, pushing his shades up into his hair. 

“No, not at all,” Jungwon said, even though Sunghoon knew he was the first one to arrive, almost half an hour ago. His eyes narrowed as he scanned Riki from head to toe. Knowing Jungwon, his calculating gaze only disguised the fact that he was unabashedly admiring how Riki’s white tank top clung to his torso. “Did you wear this to meet your other friends too?”

“Um.” Riki glanced down at himself, perplexed. “Yes..?”

Jungwon’s eyes darkened. “Cover up your arms next time. And your shoulders. Especially around Maki, I don’t trust him around you. He has a shifty aura.”

“We’re in the middle of summer,” Riki protested. “It’s 95 degrees out there, it’s as hot as Satan’s ballsack.”

“I don’t care,” Jungwon sniffed. “You can suffer, but you need to protect yourself first.”

“From who? I’ll be fine, I’ve been working out!”

“I know that. I’m just saying, too many people are staring at you and—”

“Nobody but you is allowed to look,” Riki joked, an easy smile on his lips. “Yeah yeah, okay, I get it.” Usually, Jungwon would scowl and deny that he was feeling possessive in any capacity, but something satisfied flashed in his eyes this time. He settled with a nod.

“That’s right.” Oh. Well. Good for him, Sunghoon thought, finally being honest about what he wanted. The rest of us couldn’t relate even if we tried.

Riki gaped for a second, then his expression transformed, almost painfully bright. “Okay,” he said, beaming so wide that Sunghoon had to look away. “I’m all yours.”

“Okay,” Jungwon repeated, his voice as palpably soft as a touch. Riki leaned down to comb his hair out of his eyes, uncaring of how sweaty Jungwon was despite the air-conditioning. Jungwon gazed up at him, nearly preening.

Sunghoon blinked. He exchanged a glance with Heeseung, who looked a little flabbergasted too but pleased all the same. 

Thank God at least one of them wasn’t bitter. Sunghoon could feel the force of Jay’s side-eye from here.

“Oh, Jake just texted!” Sunoo announced, finally breaking the moment. Terrific timing. Sunghoon hadn’t felt such relief upon hearing the boy’s name in a long while. “Thank God. He says the bus is taking a little longer than he expected, so we should go ahead and find someplace to eat first. He’s good with whatever we choose.”

Jay’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t he text me?”

“Because I was being a supportive friend and asking him how his date went,” Sunoo said calmly, unperturbed by the other boy’s ire. “Would you like to know?”

“Ugh. No thanks.” Jay turned and stomped off, leaving the others to shrug and trail after him. In a few strides, Sunghoon caught up, wary of the fierce scowl on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, against his better judgement, as usual. Jay grunted in reply. “You know, Yeonjun’s not such a bad guy. He's not a predator or going after minors, despite what you think. And Jake really doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would be pressured into saying yes to anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“I know he’s not a predator. It’s just—” Jay exhaled. “It’s Jaeyun. He’s so… no one deserves him.” Jaeyun. Only Jay ever called Jake that.

“Not even you?” Sunghoon forced out through his rapidly closing throat. It was hard to think of Jay as undeserving of anything. He spilled into every room like sunlight, full and warm and better than gold.

“Especially not me,” Jay said. “If only I was—” He broke off with a frustrated sigh. “Never mind.”

“Jay—” Sunghoon frowned, touching Jay’s lower back, fingers finding the dimple at the base of his spine. He cut himself off when Jay jerked away from his touch like it was fire. Like it was something repulsive or unwelcome. His fingertips burned. He stared down at them.

“Sorry, just—not here,” Jay said lowly. Right. Not in front of the others, not where people could see and speculate, because Jay was many things, but he was not Sunghoon’s. Never mind. “Not now. Maybe later, we can go back to your place?”

Sunghoon hadn’t touched him with the intent of seducing him at all. He just always wanted to be touching Jay. But he swallowed the sentiment and said, “Sure.” In the last month since the first time they slept together, Sunghoon’s four walls had seen Jay within them almost every night. He never stayed. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Jay only came over when Jake’s Instagram stories were inundated with pictures of a smiling or eating Yeonjun. But it was no matter. This was just another piece.

Sunghoon kept his hands to himself, even when they found a Japanese restaurant and Jay sat down next to him. Jake finally appeared when they were halfway through ordering their food, and Jay ordered for him easily, without even thinking about it. Sunghoon laced his fingers together in his lap, forming a cage or a muzzle.

“Thanks,” Jake said breathlessly, running a hand through his hair. “I would’ve been earlier, I swear, but I got distracted at the pet store and—” He paused, raking his eyes over Jay. Wonderingly, he reached across the table and touched the edge of Jay’s sleeve. “Hey, you’re wearing it,” he remarked with delight.

See, the only stitch of colour Jay had in his closet was this soft, carnation pink cardigan. He broke it out pretty often, especially when the evenings took a downturn in temperature. Sunghoon had just laughed at it at first, especially when Jay had refused to let it fall to the floor during the ritualistic shedding of clothes. Instead, he’d unbuttoned it with care and draped it over the back of Sunghoon’s desk chair, before returning to his mouth. At the time, Sunghoon had figured he was being pedantic because it was expensive. But Jake’s incandescent expression as his fingers ran over the woollen fabric had Sunghoon’s heart sinking into his stomach. It didn’t matter how much it had cost at all — the fact that it had come from Jake alone meant it was better than treasure to Jay.

“I honestly didn’t think you would,” Jake laughed lightly, his fingertips skimming over Jay’s knuckles. Sunghoon pretended he didn’t see how Jay shivered. He pretended he didn’t feel Heeseung’s sharp eyes watching him.

“Of course I do,” was all Jay said, but his voice was hushed like something holy, and he looked at Jake like the other boy was a marvel, God’s gift to mankind. Jake’s eyes were glowing as he stared back.

It hit Sunghoon all at once like a freight train. He was wrong. He’d been wrong about it all. He should’ve seen it from the very beginning, that Jake was in love with Jay too. He should’ve realized that this already-illicit liaison had an expiration date. How could he have missed it? How could he have been so blind? It’d been right there in front of him this entire time. His blood roared in his ears, a hurricane stirring in the ocean. Every butterfly he’d ever felt around Jay was withering, being pushed up like bile in a brutal oesophagal motion; it took all of his concentration to close them within an artery to reopen later, so nobody saw him regurgitate thorax and abdomen.

“—hoon? Sunghoon?” He snapped out of his reverie, forcing the world back into focus. Everyone was staring at him in concern. Heeseung’s face was carefully blank. Their food had arrived. He wondered how long he’d been sitting there like an idiot.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, picking up his chopsticks. “Zoned out for a bit. What were you saying?”

“We were talking about what to do after lunch,” Sunoo chirped, cheeks full of food. “Since there’s an ice rink here, we were thinking of skating. Jungwon and Jay have never skated before.”

Sunghoon felt himself go very still, his veins doused in something cold. “Oh.” So that was why Heeseung was trying not to look like he’d bitten down on something sour. His best friend stared at him like he was waiting for Sunghoon to say something. Sunghoon let them both down by putting his face into the steam curling off his ramen.

“I haven’t skated in years,” Riki mused. “I’ve probably forgotten it all. I’m gonna fall on my face or break my hip, most likely.” Sunghoon disguised his flinch by shovelling noodles into his mouth, hoping nobody was watching his hands tremble. This was all too much.

“Can’t be worse than me,” Jay grunted. “My mom says I have terrible balance. If you guys wanna start racing each other or some shit, I’m gonna have to sit out because—”

“You guys do that,” Jake announced. “Sunghoon and I will go somewhere else.”

Jay blinked. Everyone stopped chewing. Sunghoon took a small break from feeling miserable to stare at Jake, “We will? Why?”

“Oh, well, I—” Jake flushed as they all turned rapt eyes onto him. It wasn’t that he and Sunghoon deliberately went out of their way to never spend one-on-one time with each other; the mini circles they happened to fall into within the group simply never happened to align. “I remember you said once that you used to skate competitively, so maybe I looked you up and I read that you…” he trailed off, worrying at his lower lip as he glanced at Sunghoon. Sunghoon hoped his face was impassive. “It must be really hard, the idea of going back on the ice,” he said quietly. Sunghoon’s tibia felt like it was being snapped in half again. “So I thought we could just do something else, if you’re not feeling up for it.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, a little disoriented, like someone had just smacked him between the eyes. Maybe Jay was right — nobody deserved Jake. He was probably the kindest person Sunghoon had ever met; everyone seemed like a fucking asshole in comparison. It was almost irritating. It made him impossible to hate, and all Sunghoon wanted to do was hate him. His throat ached when he said, “That—that’d be nice, actually. Thanks.”

Jake beamed at him, silver and seismic and taking over half his face. Sunghoon really wished he could hate him. “Great! We can go shopping, I need someone who isn’t Jay or Riki to buy clothes with. All Riki does is end up stealing my stuff and Jay says everything I get makes me look like that Subway Surfers character.”

“Because you do,” Jay drawled. His eyes gleamed with something unbearably warm and wistful. Sunghoon wanted to stick his head down his bowl of ramen and die in the soup. He looked at Heeseung instead, whose already-large eyes were double their usual size. 

“We’ll all go shopping,” Jungwon declared before Jake could snark back. “There’s no need to split up, right? We can make a little quest out of keeping Sunoo’s financially illiterate ass away from Sephora.”

“Hey,” Sunoo sniffed. “I’ve kept within my budget this month!”

“How about last month?” Riki asked. Sunoo kept quiet, but his baleful glare was all the answer they needed.

The group slipped back into banter like it was nothing, like they hadn’t just had to give up on their afternoon plans for Sunghoon. He counted to ten in his head as he inhaled and exhaled, gripping his chopsticks as he worked on getting his breaths even. This was ridiculous. He’d retired from the ice years ago, there was no reason to feel like he was back in the orthopedist’s office, watching scan after scan of fractured bone and worn-down cartilage be brought out—

Sunghoon came back down to Earth when something soft encapsulated his hand. He looked up at Heeseung, who patted his knuckles, a question in his eyes. Alright? he was asking. Sunghoon faltered, gazing down at where Heeseung’s sunkissed skin covered his snow-white pallor. His best friend had pianist hands: warm and smooth and perfect, not a callus in sight. So unlike Jay’s guitarist fingers, the skin hardened and rough after years of plucking strings until they were raw. Sunghoon wasn’t sure why he was making the comparison at all. His chest felt too tight.

He met Heeseung’s eyes again, and nodded.

✵✵

The afternoon began to draw to an end with Jungwon and Riki taking off first, hands entwined, Riki excitedly chattering about getting to drive Jungwon’s precious motorcycle; Sunghoon had never seen Jungwon let anyone within five feet of his bike, but the boy only nodded indulgently and let himself be pulled away. He was even carrying all of Riki’s shopping bags in his free hand. Simp.

The rest of them settled in a café for dessert after failing to stop Sunoo from emptying his bank account at Sephora again, sharing two big bowls of shaved ice as Jake ranted about his summer course professor.

“He’s like motherfucking Christopher Walken. Even that damn sloth from Zootopia speaks faster than him,” he complained, his gestures getting bigger and bigger the faster he spoke. “I’m starting to think this class is one big experiment to see who can manage to sprout mold before he gets to the fucking point. He’s teaching vector equations, it’s boring enough without him acting like he’s waiting for America to be denounced as a superpower.”

Sunoo’s phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with a notification. “As fun as it is trying to avoid getting my eyeballs gouged out by your flying spoon,” Sunoo said dryly, gathering his things, “I gotta go. My sister and I are going upstate to visit our grandparents.” He nudged Jay, “Mind giving me a lift to King Street Station?”

Jay stood too. “I don’t mind. Jake, do you need a ride to the library or something?”

“Oh, yeah. Could we swing by my place first? I need to get my laptop and drop off all the stuff Yeonjun got me.” Jay’s expression turned thunderous, but he nodded. Jake didn’t seem to notice his best friend’s stormy countenance, turning to Heeseung and Sunghoon. “What about you guys?”

“Don’t worry about us,” Heeseung smiled when Sunghoon didn’t reply immediately, too busy staring at Jay’s irate scowl. “We came in Sunghoon’s car. We’ll just hang around for a little longer.”

“Okay, sure. See you again soon. Don’t ghost the group chat!” Jake warned playfully, and with a wave from him and Sunoo, they were gone. Jay lingered, his shoulders tense as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He met Sunghoon’s eyes tentatively.

“I’ll, um…” Jay fumbled, conscious of Heeseung watching them. “I’m not sure if I’m coming over tonight, but I’ll call you later.”

Something lodged in Sunghoon’s throat. “Sure,” he half-croaked. Probably best not to expect too much. “Talk to you later.”

Jay hesitated, and then he leaned down to brush his lips to the corner of Sunghoon’s mouth. He drew back after a second, and Sunghoon in his stunned state barely managed to catch him and pull him back down for a proper kiss, pressing their mouths together. It was chaste and dry, kept decent in consideration of their surroundings, but it was the best thing Sunghoon had ever experienced. He let his eyes flutter shut, hoping the moment would last longer this way.

But all too quickly, Jay withdrew again, looking even more anxious than before. His eyes darted around as if searching for someone, and when it became apparent that no one other than Heeseung had been looking at them, his face dropped with a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

Immediately, Sunghoon realized that he’d been looking for Jake, half-ashamed he was kissing someone else, and half-hoping he was seen kissing someone else. It’d never been about Sunghoon at all. He jerked backwards to put more space between them, and Jay’s eyes snapped to his, flooded with guilt.

Of course. That had always been the difference between them: Jay kissed him because he wanted to forget, and Sunghoon kissed him because he wanted to remember. Like he was begging to be considered. He’d known this too. But it still stung, like having his skin ripped off his flesh.

“Sorry, I—I have to go,” Jay said quietly. “I’ll call you, okay? Bye.” Before Sunghoon could do or say anything in response, he was miles away, jogging after Jake and Sunoo. Sunghoon sat frozen for a moment, a tornado of emotion tearing through his chest, disturbing the soil and rupturing the foundations. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel.

“So that’s why you’ve been disappearing on me most nights,” Heeseung’s serene voice cut through it all. Sunghoon blinked, turning to his best friend.

“What?”

“Jay,” Heeseung gestured vaguely in the direction their friends had vanished down.

Sunghoon chewed on his lower lip, still tingling from the sensation of Jay’s against it. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, he literally just kissed you in front of me.”

“It’s a friendly gesture,” Sunghoon said lamely. He’d always been a horrible fucking liar. “We’re friendly.”

“We’re friendly too, but we don’t do that.”

“That’s because I know every single place you’ve put your mouth on.”

“Sunghoon,” Heeseung said severely.

“Heeseung.”

His best friend frowned. “I saw you guys kiss at the beach house, you know. I was going to warn you not to get entangled in that whole mess, but when you didn’t say anything I figured it was a one-time thing.” He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Apparently not. So what have you been doing? Recreating a Nicholas Sparks movie? What is this, 500 Days of Summer? You’re pining in proximity instead of from afar now?”

“I’m not—” Sunghoon’s head was reeling. It hadn’t occurred to him at all that someone could’ve seen that first kiss on the front porch. In hindsight, it was stupidly obvious. “I haven’t been pining from anywhere. What are you talking about?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Answer the question.”

Sunghoon was quiet for a second, turning his phone over in his hands to give them something to do. Heeseung would definitely disapprove. “I slept with him. A few times.”

“A few times?” Heeseung eyed him. Sunghoon was right; he did disapprove.

“A lot of times, whatever. I was horny, he happened to be there, and now we’re friends who fuck. Happy?”

“No.” Heeseung crossed his arms. “You don’t do friends-with-benefits. You get attached in a snap, like some baby bird imprinting on its mother. What the hell are you doing?”

“I can do no strings attached,” Sunghoon grumbled. He could not. He’d never learned how to. “Who the fuck said I couldn’t?”

“Me,” Heeseung said. “You know, the person who’s literally seen you cry over spilt milk?”

“I wouldn’t have cried if your fat butterfingers hadn’t dropped the damn carton,” Sunghoon mumbled. Heeseung glared at him, and he glared right back before faltering. What was happening? They’d spent nearly all their lives together. When Heeseung’s family decided to migrate to America when the boys turned nine, Sunghoon had gone down on his knees begging his parents to follow them out of Seoul, because the idea of being separated from the best friend he’d ever known had been too much to bear. He’d upended all of their lives. And now they were here, glowering at each other over some insignificant crush Sunghoon had. He went back to fidgeting with his phone, looking down at his hands. It was silent for a torturously long moment.

“Sunghoon,” Heeseung finally sighed, uncrossing his arms. Sunghoon peered at him warily, bracing himself. He knew that tone. Heeseung’s eyes were unreadable as he said, “He doesn’t love you, you know.”

Sunghoon almost reared back, feeling as if he’d just been slapped. His phone clattered to the table. After the little display that had just occurred? “I know that. Of course I know that.” Maybe over time, he could learn to love me, a part of his brain screamed. Is it that impossible? Maybe he’ll see that he could love someone like me. Maybe he could forget. Maybe I just need to try harder. “I’m not attached, we’re just fucking around.” The words felt ugly and jagged in his mouth, cutting like broken glass.

“It doesn’t look that way to me,” Heeseung said grimly.

“Well, it’s what it is, and what do you know anyway? Just fuck off,” Sunghoon snapped. He didn’t mean to — he never wanted to hurt his best friend, who was more soft-spoken and gentle than anyone else he knew, and he felt like the biggest asshole in the world when Heeseung flinched back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I’m sorry. I am. Just drop it, okay? Please? I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”

“Will you?” Heeseung asked airily. Sunghoon winced. He supposed he deserved that.

“I—”

“Look,” Heeseung began, “I’m not trying to impose my assumptions on you or tell you what to do with your life. But…” His expression softened. “Sixteen years. We’ve been friends for sixteen years, and I’ve never seen you like this. I just don’t want to see you get hurt anymore, especially over some guy everyone knows is in love with his best friend.”

Oh. Everyone knew, then? But of course they did, this shouldn’t have been news to Sunghoon. Nothing in the world was as obvious. “So what if he is?” Sunghoon’s voice was rough, even to his own ears. “He knows I know too. I don’t care, it’s just sex.”

His best friend continued to stare at him, dubious. When he spoke again, it was slow and purposeful. “That’s a load of crap. Hoon, I know you. You can lie to everyone else, even yourself, but you can’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Sunghoon lied. He could feel his heart in his throat. “He’s sleeping around, I’m sleeping around. It’s summer. It’s casual.”

“Is it really? And are you? Sleeping with anyone else?” Heeseung arched an eyebrow. When Sunghoon said nothing, he sighed again. “Just—be careful, is all I’m saying. He’s not the white-hot center of the universe, okay? He’s not the thing that turns your world. You are. Don’t go revolving around him for nothing.”

“So what would you have me do, Hee?” Sunghoon asked, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. He wanted to go home and plant his face into a pillow and not resurface for the next ten years. “What would you do, if you were me?”

“Well, first of all, I wouldn’t have gotten involved with a guy who’s obviously got it bad for someone else and let myself be played with like a rag doll.”

“Heeseung, I—”

“And,” Heeseung continued, “I wouldn’t kill myself trying to become something for him and call it love.” His eyes held Sunghoon’s so firmly, Sunghoon found himself incapable of looking away. “It’s just not worth it, especially if he’ll never see it anyway. You deserve someone who sees you.”

“Oh yeah?” Sunghoon snorted. “Got any names in mind?”

Heeseung’s expression twisted into something indecipherable for a second, before he schooled it back into a mask of neutrality. Sunghoon was a little surprised; he hadn’t thought that there were any secrets between him and his best friend. “No. No, it was just—in general. I only… do me a favour, please?” When Sunghoon nodded, he said, “Stop sleeping with him. Stop letting him kiss you and touch you and… I know and you know you can’t keep going on like this.”

Sunghoon’s smile was brittle, a bitter pill melting on his tongue. “I don’t know how to stop. This is all I can ever get, and I—I can’t stop.” Heeseung looked at him, his eyes large and sad and full of—Sunghoon frowned, irritation sparking in his chest, “No. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Heeseung asked, but he averted his gaze guiltily, already knowing the answer. He knew Sunghoon couldn’t stand being pitied — he hadn’t appreciated it during his massive pile-up of injuries that barred him from the ice, hadn’t appreciated it when his baby sister went missing and had her bloated corpse pulled out of a lake, and he certainly wouldn’t appreciate it now. “Okay. Sorry. You know I just want you to be happy.”

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, letting his brow smooth out. “I know. I…” He faltered for a second. “That was a genuine question I asked earlier. What would you do, if you were in my position? Would you—would it be enough for you? To have the person you love in any capacity you could?”

Heeseung fell silent for a few beats, and then he stood up in an abrupt motion. Sunghoon stared up at his strained face. “Come on,” he said stiffly. “Let’s go.” Like a lost puppy, Sunghoon obeyed despite being confused, trailing after his best friend as he marched out of the café, all the way to the parking lot. He didn’t even protest when Heeseung fished his car keys out of his pocket and situated himself behind the wheel. He simply slid into the passenger seat and fiddled with the radio. The only sound the entire ride home was Sunghoon changing stations every other minute.

Heeseung only spoke again when they were parked in Sunghoon’s usual space, the shitty white lights in the carpark throwing half of his somber face into shadow as he turned to Sunghoon. The dark circles under his eyes were pronounced, the twist of his mouth like a poem or a song. For some odd reason, Sunghoon could hardly breathe. “It would be,” Heeseung finally said, a muscle in his jaw jumping like he was loathe to even utter the words. “I suppose I’m a hypocrite, because it’d be enough for me too. But I want better for you, Hoon.”

Sunghoon’s fingers twitched. “I want better for me too. But there’s no one else. Not for me.” He couldn’t pretend not to see how his best friend had blanched and hunched over a little, as if he’d just been struck down the middle. But when he frowned and reached over the console to lay a hand on Heeseung’s arm, the other boy moved away, climbing out of the car. Sunghoon scrambled to follow, again, the simultaneous slams of the car doors echoing through the stifling air.

Heeseung shoved his hands in his pockets, refusing to meet Sunghoon’s eyes over the hood of his car, bringing something within Sunghoon to a boil. He just wanted to know what was it that was tormenting Heeseung so much. Was all this upset really only about his unrequited affections? He hadn’t realized that Heeseung’s bleeding heart would take this knife as if it were his own, but he honestly shouldn’t have put it past his best friend. “Heeseung—”

“Let me know,” Heeseung interrupted, “if you want to come over tonight. If he doesn’t call, you shouldn’t stay up waiting for him alone. If you change your mind—” He hesitated. Sunghoon didn’t take his eyes off him. “My door’s always open for you. It’s not true that there’s no one else. So just—let me know.”

He didn’t wait for Sunghoon to reply. As soon as he was done speaking, he turned to make the short trek back to his apartment, trudging up the ramp slowly. Sunghoon stared at his bowed shoulders, at his shrinking back until he’d disappeared around the corner.

“I know,” he said to nobody, voice too small to even make an echo. The summer heat collecting in his collar stuck to his neck, clung to his breath; it made swallowing a chore, it cascaded like a thousand tiny deaths. He clutched his phone so tightly its edges dug into his palms, willing it to vibrate with a call. It felt like if it did, he’d be proving Heeseung wrong somehow. “I know,” he whispered again, with no wind to carry a response back.

✵✵

Jay didn’t call him. Sunghoon shot off a text to Heeseung to let him know that he was turning in for the night and one to his boss to call in sick, then promptly rolled over and stared at the empty half of the bed until dawn broke.

It didn’t matter, he told himself. Jay would find a reason to show up at his door again soon. And like a fool, Sunghoon would let him in again, would let Jay seep into him like a burst vein. He’d take Jay apart and put him back together for Jake in the morning. Nobody else had orchestrated this sordid affair — it was just Sunghoon, cracking himself in two for this perfect crime, transforming Jay into folklore, a fable that could care.

He closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, the sky was darkening and his phone was vibrating with a call from Jay.

Sunghoon shouldn’t have picked up. He shouldn’t-have a lot of things, to be honest. He shouldn’t have opened his house, shouldn’t have opened his world just to be a speck on Jay’s map. He shouldn’t have loved him.

He did anyway.

✵✵

“You could stay,” Sunghoon said into the watery sunset blue pouring into the living room. He put his clothes back on methodically, already bracing himself for the ritual of Jay’s polite refusal, but the other boy only paused in his redressing. Sunghoon could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“I guess I could,” he finally acquiesced after a minute. “Let’s see what kind of leftovers your pretty face brings us today.”

Sunghoon scoffed to tamp down the smile threatening to split his expression. His chest had never felt so light; it must’ve been true that hope was the thing with feathers, because it seemed like his heart had grown a pair of wings, fluttering and chirping under his ribs. Jay was staying. He felt jubilant enough to contemplate jumping out his window, certain that he would soar somehow. “I’ll just cook, I’m too lazy to wait for leftovers. Besides, I’ve worked up an appetite today.”

Jay’s cheeks flared pink, their rosy glow almost illuminating the space. Was he shy? He was the one who had jumped Sunghoon on the couch. “Shut up, oh my God.”

“I meant because I skipped lunch,” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “What did you think I meant?”

Jay gaped at him for a second. He was so unbearably cute. “Shut up!” he repeated, hurling a throw pillow at Sunghoon’s face. Sunghoon laughed as he batted it away, running off to the kitchen to escape Jay’s cushion-fueled wrath.

“Is pasta okay with you?” he asked. “I’d offer something fancier, but I usually eat at Heeseung’s and my cooking repertoire isn’t all that wide.” Right. Heeseung. Shit. Sunghoon had to let him know he was flaking on dinner tonight. His best friend would understand, right? He’d said it himself all those weeks ago that he would take whatever he could get too.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” Jay replied, sounding distracted. Sunghoon shrugged and began pulling out his pots and ingredients, nearly humming. He just couldn’t believe Jay was here, staying after sex, letting Sunghoon make dinner for them. It felt like a domestic dream he’d never dared to entertain before. He’d assumed Jay would only want to share sacred moments like these with Jake, but if this was a piece he was willing to give, then Sunghoon would be greedy enough to take it with both hands.

This was good — better than good, it was enough. After all, when you were dying of thirst, it wasn’t the whole oasis you wanted. It was just that one drink of water.

Sunghoon was about to get the fire going when Jay called from the living room, “Oh hey, are these your family pictures?”

Family pictures? Sunghoon went still. The frame on his desk. He abandoned the stove and dashed out of the kitchen, “Wait, Jay, don’t—”

“Is that Heeseung? He looks like a nerd,” Jay squinted down at the photograph in his hand. Sunghoon could feel his heartbeat everywhere: in his dry mouth, in his clammy fingertips, in his unsteady knees. He tasted ash on his tongue. “Wow, you guys are really little here. I didn’t realize you’ve been friends for so long.”

“We’ve been best friends since preschool.” Sunghoon didn’t even recognize his own voice.

“Ah. Checks out, I guess, you two do have this creepy telepathy thing going on. Who’s the girl?”

Sunghoon could barely speak. The flying feeling was gone; his bones felt like they were being ground down by an impossible weight. His teeth were cotton. “That’s my sister.”

Jay’s head snapped up. “Oh, I didn’t know you have a sister. You’ve never mentioned her.”

“Had,” Sunghoon corrected, trying for casual, but his voice still sounded strangled to his ears. “She, um—she was murdered a few years ago. She was twelve.”

Jay was stunned into silence for an excruciating moment. Sunghoon didn’t want to look at his expression. He already knew what he’d see, and Jay wasn’t Heeseung — he didn’t know that Sunghoon hated pity, especially when he didn’t deserve it. “I’m sorry,” Jay finally said quietly. “I really am. How did she—do you know why..?”

Sunghoon shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets so he could pretend they weren’t trembling. “The asshole pleaded insanity. Said he wasn’t planning to kill her or anything, he just saw her and went crazy, said it could’ve been anyone else. I don’t know if I believe it. But I also don’t doubt that innocent people lose their lives for no reason every day.” Not for no reason, his brain supplied. Because of you. She’s dead because of you.

“Fucking hell. I… what was she like?”

Sunghoon smiled despite himself. “Yeji was the best of me. She lit up every single room she was in, she had so much wonder and excitement for everything. Even when she started acting up ‘cause of puberty, she never did anything to hurt anyone, you know, she couldn’t hurt a fly even if she tried. Every time I got scrapes or bruises as a kid, she’d end up crying twice as much as I did. She was more thoughtful than everyone in my family combined.”

“She sounds lovely,” Jay offered. “I would’ve loved to meet her.”

Sunghoon laughed, his throat aching. “She would’ve liked you a lot, I think. Heeseung liked her more than he liked me, for sure. She’s the kind of person you can’t help but love.”

“Yeah.” Jay seemed to contemplate something for a second, before he crossed the space to lay a hand on Sunghoon’s arm. His touch burned like a brand. “Good thing you’re so alike then. She gets to live on through you.”

“I—” Sunghoon forced himself to take a deep breath, keeping his eyes very open so the tears behind them didn’t fall. Sunghoon hated whenever Jay said or did things like this, hated whenever he was gentle, because it was so easy to confuse his tenderness with love — and he’d never wanted to be loved by someone as desperately as he wanted to be loved by Jay. “I don’t… I’m not like her. But thank you anyway.”

“I didn’t know her so I can’t say for sure, but from what I’ve heard so far, I think you’re more like her than you think.” Jay met his gaze steadily, the velvet darkness of his eyes an island in this storm of feeling. Sunghoon wasn’t flying, but he wasn’t falling either: he was underwater. They were talking about his sister, the abyss of his deepest hurt, and Sunghoon was fighting not to swoon like some damsel. It was pathetic, but the gnawing under his skin was Pavlovian, parasitic, preying on something atavistic. There was no air. “You don’t realize it, but sometimes after the people we love most have gone, we take on the parts of them that we want them to be remembered for. It lets us honour their memory.”

“Maybe,” Sunghoon managed to say. Yeji had been built for love; loving her had been inevitable. So if what Jay was saying was true, then why couldn’t he love Sunghoon? Why was he the exception to some universal rule? “Someone told me once that humans are all just mosaics of all the people we’ve loved before, or something.”

“I think so too,” Jay’s face brightened. Sunghoon wondered just how much of Jay was Jake. He wondered how many of his own pieces had been replaced by Jay. “I don’t know if it’s any consolation, but—”

Sunghoon was done with this topic. Grief had ravaged him thoroughly for years, left him a ragged carcass. He had no interest in being torn open in front of Jay again, and Yeji was a place for him to revisit alone. “You know what would really help me right now?” he interrupted.

Jay blinked. “What?”

Sunghoon caught him round the waist and pulled him in, taking his mouth with a ferocity that seemed to surprise Jay, if his squeak was any indication. Sunghoon swallowed the noise, angling his head to suck on Jay’s tongue, until the kiss was all wet heat and sugar-sweet. 

Jay made another gasping sound of rapture, and then he broke away, panting, “Wait—are you sure—what about dinner, you said you were hungry—”

“Later,” Sunghoon interrupted again, lifting Jay onto the dining table and bending him backwards. Jay’s hands flew up to steady himself on Sunghoon’s shoulders, callused fingertips grazing the skin bared by his tank top. He suppressed a full-body shiver. “I’d rather skip straight to dessert for now.”

“Oh,” Jay sounded breathless. Sunghoon preened internally. “Then, bedroom—”

Sunghoon shrugged, already working Jay’s pants open. “Too far away. Besides, not our first rodeo out here.”

Jay sighed, but he was also tearing Sunghoon’s top over his head, eyes glinting. “If I throw my back out, I’m faxing my chiropractor bill over to you.”

Sunghoon grinned, all teeth and no mirth. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised, and dropped to his knees, grinding all conversation about dead sisters and taken pieces to a halt. If Yeji knew what he was doing now, she’d be so disappointed.

But that was the thing about people who were gone: no matter what she’d left behind for him to inherit, Sunghoon couldn’t see or feel her hurt anymore. Couldn’t bow to its consequences. There was only this — his quicksilver heartbeat and Jay’s golden skin in his mouth. No outside distractions, no other pieces. Just this.

If Sunghoon lied to himself enough, this was exactly how he wanted it to be.

✵✵

The first time Sunghoon sat in Jay’s car had also been the last time.

Jay had pulled over into some empty parking lot, hiding from the sunset’s saffron assault under the threatening bough of a tree. They were sprawled out in the backseat, bare skin sticking to the leather and gasping breaths fogging up the windows. If it was anyone else, Sunghoon would’ve complained that it was too hot to try and fuck in a car, but it was Jay, so all he did was lick down his sternum and relish in the taste of salt and solar flares, drunk on the song of shared air.

“Don’t tease,” Jay pleaded when Sunghoon nipped at the deep grooves running down his hipbones. He writhed impatiently, seeking friction and groaning when Sunghoon propped himself up higher. “I didn’t think you were serious when you said you wanted to go slow today. Hoon—”

“Oh, I’m gonna go very slow,” Sunghoon said, sinking his teeth into Jay’s side and hiding a smile when the other boy keened, arching into his mouth. “You’re gonna lie back and take it and learn some patience.”

“Is now really the best time?” Jay panted, fisting his hands in Sunghoon’s hair and tugging. Sunghoon hissed at the sensation shivering down his spine, biting down harder. “I really think that—”

He was cut off by his phone ringing, shrill through the heady fog. Jay cursed, trying to sit up, “Shit, where’d I throw it?”

Sunghoon raised his head, finding it haphazardly tossed on the carpet. “It’s there,” he pointed.

“Who’s calling?”

“I don’t know. Is it important?” Sunghoon asked lazily, dipping back down to suck another bruise into Jay’s waist.

“It—it could be,” Jay said breathlessly. “What if it’s my dad, or Jake, or—”

Sunghoon’s boner immediately died. He sat back on his haunches, holding back an irritated sigh. Hearing Jake’s name always killed the mood. “Why don’t you check?” he suggested flatly.

Jay seized his phone off the ground, brow furrowing as he read the caller ID, “The hospital? Why..?” He quickly accepted the call. “Hello? Yes, this is Jay. Has something happened?” He listened intently for a few long beats, and then all the blood drained from his face. Sunghoon peered at him in concern, a bad feeling stirring in his gut. “He what?” Jay asked, aghast, lips pale, “Jake what? He collapsed? Where?”

Fuck. Sunghoon’s bad feelings were never wrong. He scrambled for their shirts, tugging his back on and tossing Jay his. The other boy didn’t move, gripping his phone so hard his knuckles were a ghastly white. “Okay,” he said numbly into the receiver. “I understand. I’m on my way. Thank you.” The click and the dial tone signalled that the other end had hung up, but Jay still didn’t move, eyes blank.

“Jay. Jay, put your shirt on. Let’s go.” Sunghoon grabbed Jay’s wrists, forcing the other boy to look at him. “Jongseong, focus. Come on, we need to go.”

“Yeah,” Jay finally mumbled, blinking. “Okay, okay. Um, my keys, they’re—”

“Give me your keys, I’ll drive. You’re in no state to drive.”

“But I can—”

“If you drive like this, we’re gonna end up in a three car pile-up. Give me your keys,” Sunghoon repeated sternly.

“Okay,” Jay said faintly, buttoning his shirt up with slow, trembling fingers. “They’re in the cupholder.”

Sunghoon nodded, clambering into the driver’s seat and waiting for Jay to climb into the passenger seat and fasten his seatbelt before he started the engine.

As he broke several traffic laws on the way to the hospital, he realized he’d just signed himself up to be in a room with Jay and Jake. Alone. He glanced at Jay out of the corner of his eye, taking in the way his knee bounced, vibrating with barely contained anxiety. There were clouds gathering, darkening the sky to a misty grey.

Oh, he had another bad feeling about this.

✵✵

Jay was out of the car and sprinting into the hospital the second Sunghoon killed the engine. He raced around like a headless chicken until Sunghoon went up to the front desk and inquired after Jake Sim. They were directed to another floor, and Sunghoon had to bodily drag Jay to the elevators, laying a hand on his shoulder to try and quell his jumping.

Jake was sitting in an inclined bed, an IV drip hooked up to his arm. He looked unharmed, his countenance only a little more drawn than the last time Sunghoon had seen him. He also looked incredibly bored, halfway to falling asleep. A large gust of air left Jay, his body sagging, and the sound made Jake look over.

“Jay?” he said, squinting as if trying to ascertain if he was staring at a mirage or not. Jay immediately peeled away from Sunghoon’s side to fuss over Jake, his fingers fluttering over his body, like he was afraid that one touch would break him. “Jay,” Jake exhaled in relief, and Sunghoon could hear the question underneath it: You came?

Jay heard it too. “Of course I came, dumbass,” he replied, his voice so impossibly soft and silver. It sounded more like I love you than anything else. “Did you really expect me not to?” He laid a hand against Jake’s face, and Sunghoon could almost imagine the feel and weight of it on his own skin. Something underneath his ribs cracked.

“You’re here,” Jake sighed, like it was a benediction or incantation. He nuzzled into Jay’s hand, looking up at the boy with such tender, melting eyes that Sunghoon had to avert his gaze, fidgeting. Just as he predicted, this was extremely uncomfortable.

“No shit,” Jay quipped. “You listed me as your emergency contact, remember?”

“Oh.” Jake’s eyes fluttered, his faint Australian accent twisting heavy on his tongue, slurring his words in his drowsiness, “I completely forgot about that.”

“Yeah. Got the fright of my life when the nurse called and said you’d collapsed from exhaustion and dehydration. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Jake swallowed. Well, clearly, Sunghoon thought uncharitably, before mentally smacking himself upside the head. The boy was lying in a hospital bed. He could afford to be nicer. “I just—I got so busy, I didn’t even realize—”

“Busy with what? Summer school’s been over for a week now,” Jay scowled.

“Don’t be mad,” Jake pleaded, catching Jay’s hand between both of his and gripping it tight, as if he was scared that if he didn’t Jay would pull away. As if he ever would. “It’s—my parents called, and they… you know. And I’m not so sure I did well on this course, so I was planning for my next few quarters and I got so stressed I might’ve forgotten to eat.”

“Or sleep,” Jay supplied angrily. “Jake, we’ve talked about this. This is your life, not theirs. And running yourself into the ground trying to live up to someone else’s failed dreams isn’t the way to live your life. You need to take better care of yourself.” Oh. Sunghoon hadn’t been aware of Jake’s relationship with his parents at all. Maybe he really did need to be nicer.

“I know,” Jake murmured. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” Jay shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed, resting his free hand on Jake’s leg. Sunghoon didn’t think he could ever stay mad at Jake. This was unbearable. He needed to get out, or say something.

“Hey,” Sunghoon finally said, stepping forward. Jake’s eyes snapped to him, wide with surprise, as if this was the first time he’d noticed Sunghoon was there at all. It probably was. “How’re you feeling, Jake?”

“Doing better,” Jake smiled sunnily. “Honestly, I should’ve gotten more fucked up, then maybe they’d give me the good drugs. Now I’m just stuck in bed with a lame banana bag.” He shook the arm his IV was attached to, ignoring the icy glare Jay pinned him with.

Sunghoon snorted. “Stay in bed and rest. I’ll go scour the vending machines to see if I can get anything good. You’re cleared to eat, right?”

“Yeah, no problem there,” Jake said. “I don’t want to spend your money though, it’s okay—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sunghoon waved dismissively. “It’s spare change. I’ll be right back. Jay, do you want anything?”

“I’m fine. Thanks, Hoon,” Jay replied without turning around. Sunghoon nodded, tamping down the pang in his chest, walking out and down the hallway.

He didn’t know what Jake’s favourites were, so he stopped at the first vending machine he saw and inserted all the coins he had in his pocket into the slot, blindly pressing options. He took his own sweet time gathering the bags of chips and chocolate, not exactly in a hurry to get back to the hospital room. It would take a double-edged sword to cut through all the collective yearning in the air.

The snacks were overflowing by the time he’d used up all his change, so he wandered off to the nurses’ station to borrow a bag he could stuff it all in. Just in case there were extras he could take home. He strolled back to the room, wondering if he should even go back at all. Just before he reached the threshold, voices floated through, seemingly deep in discussion.

“—don’t really understand why he’s here,” Jake was saying, so Sunghoon slowed to a stop, lingering near the door. It was wrong to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help himself. It was déjà vu, really. A lack of impulse control was what had landed him in this gigantic mess, to begin with. “I mean, I’m glad he is, but I didn’t think you guys were close enough for him to be your first point of contact for things like these.” Were they talking about him?

“Are you really complaining about people coming to visit you on your deathbed?”

“I’m not dying, jackass,” Jake grumbled lightheartedly, and Jay laughed, golden and echoing like gospel. “Seriously, though, not complaining. I’m just trying to figure out why you told him first.”

“Well, um. We were—together, when the hospital called, so.”

“You were together?" Jake repeated, like he was trying out the taste of the words.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Jake said. “You’re—oh. Are you sleeping with him?” He’d probably been trying to sound flippant, but his voice shook, cutting into something so vulnerable Sunghoon should have backed away. He should’ve walked away in the first place, he should’ve left already, but for some reason he stayed right there.

The silence hung thick in the air for a moment. “Yeah,” Jay finally replied, voice barely a whisper. Jake exhaled, his breaths sounding awfully like a building sob.

“I should’ve figured. That time at the mall you were acting weird, plus I noticed you’d been gone a lot of nights, but I didn’t want to ask. Guess I’ve got my answer,” he seemed borderline hysterical. Jay was silent. “Do you—do you love him?” Jake asked, and Sunghoon stopped breathing. He knew the answer to this already, but his body couldn’t help leaning forward, his gut curling in on itself in sick anticipation.

“No,” Jay said, and something inside Sunghoon died. He’d known, of course, had reminded himself of the fact every day and night, but he felt himself shatter anyway. Was he really that much of a fool, to hope for anything different? People didn’t magically fall in love with you overnight, people didn’t change their minds in the blink of an eye. Something wet trickled down his cheek, and he swiped it away furiously. He refused to become a tragedy or a spectacle. He would not give any more pieces of himself to Jay, he couldn’t. He’d given enough for a lifetime. “Why?”

He didn’t even have the chance to brace himself for what Jake would say next. “Well, because he’s in love with you,” he pointed out, and the air in Sunghoon’s lungs left him in a wheeze. He laid his palm flat against his chest; his heart had contorted in an action so violent, he had to make sure it hadn’t flung itself out of his body. 

“I know,” Jay said quietly, because of course he did, of course he’d heard Sunghoon loud and clear that night. If Sunghoon listened hard enough, maybe there was some guilt in there too. But maybe that was an illusion, imagination, a figment of fantasy. Maybe it was only what he wanted to hear. Frost grew behind his sternum, hardening into ice.

“Then what are you doing?” Jake asked, sounding exasperated, almost angry. “This is our friend. Why are you stringing him along? Is keeping him around and toying with him good for your ego? If that’s it, then you’re—”

“It’s not for my ego,” Jay snapped, “I don’t want to hurt him, and I feel like an ass because I know I already have. I—” He cut himself off with a frustrated sigh, and Sunghoon could see him in his mind’s eye, raking a hand through his hair. His dead heart throbbed. “I’m an ass, and Sunghoon deserves better. But I needed someone and he was there and willing and… fuck. I just wanted to move on. I can’t stay hung up on you forever, Jake.”

The room was silent for another moment. “Wait. What? You—like me?” Jake asked, genuinely stunned. Sunghoon had to resist the urge to stomp in there and scream at him. Was he stupid? Even a blind, deaf and insensate man could tell that Jay was in love with him. He had everything Sunghoon wanted, and he didn’t even know half of it.

“I told you as much.” Jay was probably scowling. “At senior prom? But you didn’t say anything and then you were looking for Sunoo, so I didn’t want to chase you down, I didn’t want—”

“Oh my God. I’m the ass,” Jake interrupted urgently. “I was drunk off the shitty punch at prom, because Sunoo had been teasing me the whole time we were setting up about how I should confess to you. But then you showed up in your suit and you looked so unbelievably gorgeous, I got nervous. I made up some crappy excuse because I literally couldn’t look at you.”

“Oh. So you—oh. You weren’t looking for Sunoo because you like him?”

“No, you idiot.”

“And,” Jay added cautiously. “Yeonjun? I thought that you two…” 

“No, we’re just friends, he’s pining after Beomgyu from audio engineering. They’re all repressed and have this strange unresolved sexual tension. And I like you,” Jake’s voice quivered. “Wasn’t it obvious? I’m stupidly in love with you. I always have been.” Sunghoon had known this too, but he closed his eyes against the fresh wave of agony that lanced through him. Wasn’t it obvious? This was always how it was going to end.

“Oh,” Jay repeated, sounding stupefied.

“Oh? Just ‘oh’?”

“Give me a second here, this is a lot to process,” Jay muttered. “Are you—do you really..?”

“Yes,” Jake said emphatically. “Jay. It’s always been you for me.”

“Me too,” Jay whispered, his voice breathless and reverent, and finally Sunghoon wrenched himself away from the door, his blood roaring in his ears. Just like that, it was over. Just an hour ago, they were tangled up in the backseat of Jay’s car, and now… He backed down the hallway but he still heard Jay say, “I loved you on my own for so long, I don’t—I’ve only ever loved you. It was never anyone else. It could never be anyone else.”

He ran blindly through the halls, down the stairs, until he was bursting out of the hospital’s front doors. In typical Washington fashion, it was raining, and Sunghoon found himself immediately caught in the downpour. He didn’t care, not even when his wet clothes clung to his skin, chilling him to the bone. Anything was better than staying in that hallway, listening to Jay tell Jake he was the only one he’d ever wanted — that he’d slept next to Sunghoon all summer while dreaming of Jake. Sunghoon had made an egregious number of bad decisions over the last few months, but even he knew better than to stand still and let his heart be ripped out of his chest, again and again.

This thing that had grown between them had festered like a septic sore under his skin, an anatomical intrusion. Jay had cut himself free with the snip of a cord, clear of plague and bruise. Sunghoon was the only one left here, still tangled up in the crosshairs; in the middle of all that red, still black and blue. He didn’t know how long it’d take for him to feel clean too.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he let his feet carry him on autopilot, letting them lead the way home.

When he showed up at Heeseung’s door, drenched and shaking, he didn’t have to say anything for the other boy to know. “Oh, Sunghoon,” Heeseung sighed, expression crumpling with a pity Sunghoon usually hated, but couldn’t bring himself to at the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “For being a terrible friend, for not listening to you, I took you for granted and I—I should’ve… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry anymore,” Heeseung murmured, shaking his head. His eyes were glassy with emotion, the only bright thing in the dark. “Come inside. Stay here tonight.”

Trembling, Sunghoon let Heeseung gather him into his arms and lead him across the threshold, let himself feel broken in his best friend’s embrace. The thunder outside cracked like a whip, splintering him down the middle. But the yellow glow of Heeseung’s kitchen light and the hands cradling Sunghoon’s face were warm, and for a moment, nothing in the world was cold anymore.

✵✵

The beginning of the fall quarter always brought with it clamour on campus, especially on the quad, where every student sprawled out on the grass, soaking in the last dregs of the summer before the autumn chill brought with it endless rain. Already, the cherry trees were turning a fiery orange. Sunghoon and Heeseung strolled on one of the smaller side paths, discussing one of the students they’d been forced into a group with in their shared class.

“I can’t believe he actually tried lecturing us on the benefits of investing in Bitcoin,” Sunghoon snorted. Heeseung was laughing, his eyes scrunched into shining crescents. Sunghoon felt aglow. “I was this close to telling him I was a trust fund baby and didn’t need to work for anything.”

“You definitely don’t have a trust fund,” Heeseung pointed out with a smile. “I think your last Venmo request was for seventy cents. You don’t even have seventy cents in the bank?”

“Listen,” Sunghoon said. “I just happened to be short on seventy cents, and you know I spend every dollar I got on feeding you. And you thusly repay me by telling finance bros they’re investing in speculative assets and to shut the fuck up.”

“He asked if I even knew what ‘speculative’ meant,” Heeseung recounted, eyes gleaming with amusement.

Sunghoon shook his head, “I thought guys were exempt from being victims of mansplaining, but I guess not. I hate men in finance.”

“I don’t even think he’s a finance major. I overheard him during the icebreakers and he’s majoring in fucking anthropology.”

“That’s great, he chose a major he likes. He’ll never have to work a day in his life, because his field isn’t hiring,” Sunghoon said. Heeseung laughed louder, a melodic thing that made Sunghoon’s insides feel funny. It was strange. They’d grown up together, done everything together, and yet Sunghoon had never felt like this around his best friend before.

“Makes sense that he had to become a recruiter for pyramid schemes. That condescending attitude alone is probably a front he puts on to face the impending joblessness in his future—” Heeseung suddenly broke off, staring at something in the distance. Frowning, Sunghoon followed his best friend’s gaze, then froze in place too.

Oh.

About a mile away, Jay leaned against a tree, rimless glasses sliding down his nose as he squinted down at his phone. He looked different already, even though the last time Sunghoon had seen him was barely a month ago; Sunghoon couldn’t put a finger on what exactly had changed, though. He didn’t seem to notice that Sunghoon and Heeseung were watching him at all. A familiar scar.

“Let’s go,” Sunghoon said abruptly. Heeseung looked at him cautiously. “If we cut through the main courtyard, we’ll get to the parking lot faster…”

His voice died in his throat when he saw a boy bounding over to Jay, dark hair flying in the breeze. It was Jake, his lean frame swallowed by a Mariners jacket Sunghoon recognized as Jay’s, his smile incandescent. As they watched, Jake leapt onto Jay, arms wrapping around his neck. Jay started, dropping his phone, but as soon as he realized it was Jake, his arms were around the other boy’s waist, pulling him in to catch his laughing mouth in a consuming kiss. Sunghoon blinked. So that was what was different about Jay: he looked so happy now. With the vermillion leaves scattering down around them, it was almost ridiculous how picture-perfect they were. Sunghoon had just been a blip in that perfect love story.

Surprisingly, it didn’t bother him all that much anymore. He looked at them like he was watching through a window. Separate, on the outside. Finally removed.

“Hoon,” Heeseung said, voice dropping to a murmur as if Jay and Jake could hear them from all the way over there. Sunghoon doubted they would even if he was next to them, shouting in their ears. “Are you okay? Do you—”

“I’m okay,” Sunghoon replied. His throat was a little tight, and his chest ached a little, but it wasn’t crushing or shattering him, it wasn’t as overwhelming as he thought it would be. He’d imagined that it would feel like experiencing a car crash in slow motion, being ripped open again and again, but it wasn’t. It simply felt like the tail end of a healing papercut, the scabs falling off to reveal new, pink skin underneath. Soon, it’d fade to nothing. Having Heeseung around definitely helped. “Really. I don’t… I’m not gonna start screaming, crying, throwing up every time I see them.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Heeseung said dryly, but a small smile lit upon his face. Sunghoon’s heart did that strange thing again, as if it was flipping over in his chest. It really had been doing that a lot lately. Ever since the incident at the hospital, Sunghoon had fallen asleep next to Heeseung every night, had eaten ramen out of the pot with the same pair of chopsticks, had found his rings scattered amongst Heeseung’s across his coffee table. Maybe all the proximity was getting to him. “Come on, let’s cut through the quad anyway. I hate public displays of affection.”

“Really?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Remember when you were dating that white guy, the one who said your name was too difficult to pronounce and insisted on calling you something else, what was his name—”

“Enough!” Heeseung swatted him away, scowling, the tips of his ears crimson. “Don’t remind me, I almost forgot about that asshole. Why must you remember every embarrassing thing I’ve ever done?”

“Well, someone has to,” Sunghoon grinned. Heeseung rolled his eyes, but Sunghoon had spent too much time with him to not know when his best friend was fighting back a smile.

“You’re evil,” Heeseung said petulantly. He quickly hopped off the footpath, making his way across the grass. Sunghoon laughed and swung around to follow, but as he did, his gaze snagged on Jake and Jay, who were no longer kissing and were now staring at him like deers in headlights.

Sunghoon felt a wave of calm wash over him. For a moment, he looked back at them, at Jake’s wide eyes and Jay’s ashen face, a far cry from his usually-golden countenance. Something shiny rusted. They were still clutching at each other, but they’d put some space between their bodies. They really didn’t have to do that on his account, though. When Jay opened his mouth, presumably to say something beseeching or call Sunghoon’s name, Sunghoon turned away, lengthening his stride to catch up with Heeseung. There was no need to revisit familiar scars, especially when they were barely a mark anymore. He was at peace.

“You walk so slow,” Heeseung complained when Sunghoon finally fell back into step with him, history at his back. “God gave you long legs and you squander them. You only use them to kick me in your sleep.”

“I don’t kick,” Sunghoon protested.

“Yes, you do. And you snore. Like a helicopter taking flight.”

“Don’t sleep with me anymore, then,” Sunghoon sniffed. “I’ll go back to my own place to crash.” Heeseung paused at that, and his eyes were serious as they met Sunghoon’s.

“No,” he said. “You’re staying with me.” Sunghoon smiled. That was Heeseung’s talent — making people feel like there wasn’t any piece of them that could be unlovable, like they were always enough. Or maybe Sunghoon was just his favourite. Deep down, he hoped he was. Heeseung had somehow managed to take the summer that felt like forever and twist it into nothing more than a moment in time.

If Jay was the bruise, Heeseung was the blue in the middle of that reckless ruse. Being reborn into something new. 

“You have that look on your face again,” Heeseung mused, snapping Sunghoon out of his reverie. “What are you thinking about?”

Sunghoon hummed, his fingers circling Heeseung’s wrist, a well-worn habit from childhood. He could feel his best friend’s heartbeat slamming against his fingertips. They’d been children in the dark together once, but they were no longer children, and for some reason, nothing was more exciting to Sunghoon. The summer had chewed him up and spat him back out, but Heeseung’s blue was like spring rain, washing him clean. Fall was for new beginnings.

Heeseung, he wanted to say, if there’s a name for the moment the light enters the wound, it would be named after you. If science is faith and hope is the thing with feathers, they’d be gods in heaven, and I’d be the giant telling them to worship you.

“I’m just happy,” Sunghoon said, “that I’m with you right now. I’m happy.”