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“Johnny?”
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever been in love?”
Taeyong trusts Johnny implicitly, sometimes more than he trusts himself, and he’d like to think that Johnny feels the same way. They have confided in each other the fears that keep them up at night and on edge during the day. They are the first to celebrate each other’s triumphs, big or small. Even if they end up parting ways once they’ve completed the training program, he thinks they could still be good friends, after all that they’ve been through.
Still, despite their closeness, the way the taller boy’s mouth sputters around the lip of his water bottle makes Taeyong want to take back his words.
With the question suspended between them, and the incandescent street lights that do nothing to hide the regret that colors his cheeks a vibrant red, he feels awfully bare.
“Never mind, forget I said anything,” he grumbles as he marches past Johnny. He knows it’s his fault Johnny’s still working on coughing out the water that went down the wrong pipe. He would have had the decency to wait until Johnny has caught his breath, if he didn’t feel so embarrassed for being so foolish.
“Hey, no, wait!”
Because of his long legs, it doesn’t take much before Johnny has reclaimed his place beside Taeyong, who’s staring decisively on the asphalt path ahead of them.
“You could’ve waited until after I swallowed my drink before springing that on me, Yong,” Johnny chides, but there isn’t any real heat behind his words.
This is worse, Taeyong realizes.
He’s being teased.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles.
“Aww, come on, don’t be like that,” Johnny says petulantly. Taeyong doesn’t need to look to know his lips are formed in his signature childish pout. “Does our Taeyongie have someone he likes? Is that it?”
He groans.
“No! It’s just—” he finally turns to Johnny. The other boy is patient, just as he always is when Taeyong gets like this, when he needs a bit more time to find the words that’ll spell out what’s on his mind. “It’s—the hyungs.”
“The hyungs?”
“Yeah,” he says, his shoulders drooping when he releases a deep sigh. “They were goofing around because Jongin hyung scored some date. And I happened to be around, so then they asked me if I’ve ever been in love.”
Johnny hums understandingly, because he knows how pushy their hyungs can get, even when they’re being playful.
He allows a beat of silence to pass before he asks, “Well, have you?”
“What?”
“Been in love?”
Taeyong’s eyes narrow. “I’m pretty sure I asked you first.”
He expects Johnny to put up a bit of a fight before relenting. It isn’t always easy to admit something so personal, even when you’re in the company of someone you trust. It’s partly why he regretted asking in the first place. (Mostly out of embarrassment over his inexperience, but still.)
But it seems his best friend is still capable of a few surprises.
“Yes,” Johnny answers straightforwardly. No hiding, no pretenses. Fearless and vulnerable in the same breath.
It takes an unfortunate amount of time before Taeyong’s brain processes Johnny’s one-syllable response.
“Huh?” Taeyong says dumbly.
“Yes, I’ve been in love.”
Oh.
Well.
“Your turn.”
“What?”
Johnny laughs and looks at Taeyong like he’s particularly endearing. It makes Taeyong want to do something stupid, like run and hide, or—
He shakes his head.
“No?”
“No, I’ve never been in love.”
Johnny doesn’t press. He just smiles, and in Taeyong’s stomach, something warm unfurls. It’s a slow, gentle, radiant thing that he’s come to associate with his best friend. He hasn’t found a name for it, but the feeling is not unwelcome.
“That’s alright, there’s nothing wrong with that,” he assures. “Besides, you’ve got plenty of time to find someone to love.”
*
Taeyong’s graduation ushers in a new chapter in his life and, perhaps just as importantly, an overdue epiphany.
Truth be told, the ceremony feels incredibly isolating. He’s sure the tight line of his lips, contrasted with row after row of nothing but smiles, is a jarring sight, and he can already picture the things people would have to say about him.
All they can really see is his frown, not the uncomfortable tension between his shoulder blades, or the bags underneath his eyes, or the way his fingers twitch with the compulsion to nail-bite, and especially not sadness that sticks to him like second skin.
But then Johnny enters his periphery with a bouquet in his hands, like he doesn’t have a pollen allergy that he whines about all the time, or that he wasn’t scheduled for dance training that same hour. He braved the crowd and the cold just because he knew Taeyong would be lonely, just like this.
It doesn’t play out the way it does in films or on TV. Time doesn’t stop, the noise of constant chatter is still frustratingly abundant around him, and the people who flocked to the venue don’t magically disappear.
It’s just that, these don’t matter, not anymore.
It’s like a song that has taken on a new meaning after the fifteenth listen. The picture being revealed after the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle has slotted into place. Reading a page from a book, over and over again, and understanding the words for the first time.
Ah, Taeyong thinks as he shyly takes the flowers from Johnny’s mitten-clad hands. I get it now.
He sneaks a peek at Johnny’s face. The brilliant flush of his cheeks does not escape Taeyong’s watchful eye, now bright with clarity.
There’s so much he wants to ask. How long have you waited? Have you always known? Has it always been me?
His heart hammers against his chest the way it always has for Johnny, since the day the lanky boy from Chicago befriended the quiet kid with two left feet. He decides to save the questions for later. For now, it’s enough that they’re finally on the same page.