Chapter Text
Two weeks in protective custody at the National Police Agency drips by like water from a slow leak. The cycle of meetings with the lawyer and interviews with different police and prosecutors feels like it might spin on forever.
And then the last morning is a blur, as if Wonwoo blinks once and he’s a free man, standing in a dismal lobby with his wallet, dead phone, and an acrid-smelling suit he’s loath to put back on in a plastic bag.
“I brought you some stuff,” Mingyu says, handing over a duffel. He has a nice navy suit on and he’s gotten a haircut in the past week. He looks very trim and professional, although the wound on his head is at an ugly phase of healing, with yellow and green bruising around a crust of scab falling away from the first glimpse of shiny pink skin.
The clothes he brought are from Wonwoo’s apartment, the blissful comfort of his own cheap underwear and an old set of sweats. The police have decided his place isn’t secure enough, so Mingyu cleared it out and Wonwoo will be staying with him.
“I have a million meetings I couldn’t reschedule.” Mingyu smiles—he’s getting a big promotion and apparently a medal, so he’s not too burdened about the work. “You can let yourself in, though.”
Mingyu talks him quickly through the door codes, the layout, and the food in the fridge, and then Wonwoo is walking out into the sunlight alone.
He moves through the subway in a daze, looking at all the ordinary people on the train around him. Somehow, he is one of them. He can’t understand it.
He’s due back at the National Police Agency for depositions starting tomorrow morning and then, well, all day every day for the foreseeable future—but in exchange, he got everything he never hoped to ask for.
The new central charge of the police’s case against Chairman Lee is kidnapping and threatening a national police officer, and in that thin slice of the story, Wonwoo is just a hero. He’s not going to get a medal, like Mingyu, or anything, but every other charge that could have been pressed against him was waived. He’s out with no record at all—a promise Mingyu always said was too lofty to make.
Mingyu filled him in on the details last night, Wonwoo’s final meeting before his release this morning. And Wonwoo asked him—what about Jeonghan?
“I’ll let him tell you himself,” Mingyu said. He kept his smile mild, carefully unreadable, but that alone was more than Wonwoo had let himself hope for.
Wonwoo finds and eats the leftover chicken stew in Mingyu’s fridge, takes a long, hot shower, and then lies down on the futon laid out for him in a room full of Mingyu’s boyfriend’s computer equipment. He stares at the ceiling instead of napping. His body feels strange—light, almost dizzy. Like he’s taking in too much air. Like he’s been breathing through a hand over his mouth for years, without realizing until it let him go.
Sleep comes for him, after all—afternoon sun slants low across the room when he wakes up to the chime of the lock and then Mingyu’s voice. “Wonwoo-hyung, are you awake? There’s someone here who wants to see you!”
Wonwoo clambers up and out of the room in one tumbling roll, still fumbling his glasses onto his face when his gaze lands on Jeonghan.
His hair is even shorter than it was the last time Wonwoo saw him, cut at a sharp angle that follows the line of his cheekbone, and he’s dressed all in white like an angel, like a vision, like the dreams Wonwoo has been having of him for two weeks, or maybe for two years.
He grins when he sees Wonwoo. “Yah, Jeon Wonwoo! We are in a fight!”
“Okay. It was my fault.” Wonwoo takes Jeonghan into his arms. He shuts his eyes and ducks his face into Jeonghan’s neck and holds him tight.
“I mean it!” Jeonghan says through laughter. “Say you’re sorry for leaving me when I was asleep like that.”
“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”
“Okay.” Jeonghan puts his hand on the back of Wonwoo’s head. “That’s enough now.”
He steps back. Wonwoo’s arms hurt to let him go. Mingyu seems to have disappeared into his room.
“I have my own place,” Jeonghan says. “If you want to see it.”
“I would love that.”
Jeonghan takes the lead out of Mingyu’s apartment and down the elevator. Outside, a uniformed officer is waiting by an unmarked car. “Wonwoo-yah, this is Hansol,” Jeonghan says. “He’s my police officer. I keep telling everyone I can drive, but I guess I was born to be chauffeured.”
Wonwoo nods to the officer. “I think he’s doing something more important than just chauffeuring you.”
“I hope not!” Hansol says cheerfully. “Just safe, comfortable driving, right?”
“Right,” Jeonghan says.
Hansol clicks the lock to open the car. “Any other, uh, plans this afternoon?”
“No,” Jeonghan coos, something sweetly wicked in his voice. “I’m not going to see Seungkwanie today, sorry.”
Hansol shrugs as he moves around to the driver’s seat, but he’s definitely blushing a little around the ears. Wonwoo opens the back door, meaning to let Jeonghan in, but Jeonghan gets in the front, so Wonwoo slips into the back alone.
“Who’s that?” he asks.
“Seungkwan is…” Jeonghan clears his throat. “He’s been helping me with some stuff.”
Wonwoo is missing something. “Stuff?”
Jeonghan sighs.
“Seungkwan is Yoon Jeonghan-ssi’s caseworker,” Hansol says. “From the victim’s advocacy association that’s helping with his case.”
“Excuse me,” Jeonghan says.
“However, the words ’caseworker,’ ’victim,’ and ’advocacy’ are all currently forbidden in Yoon Jeonghan-ssi’s presence, just so you know,” Hansol says. To Jeonghan he adds, “He was never going to get it unless one of us told him.”
“Anyway, what’s really important,” Jeonghan says, briskly changing the subject with his teasing voice again, “is that Seungkwanie is adorable, and Hansol has a crush on him, which is great because they would make perfect boyfriends.”
“Really?” Wonwoo says, immediately picking up Jeonghan’s game. “Did you know you’re blushing?” he asks Hansol, whose ears are brighter red.
Hansol makes a funny little noise of distress. “Yeah, he is cute. But he’s also literally a—forbidden word at a forbidden word-forbidden word organization. And I’m a cop.”
“Oh, so it’s like a Romeo and Juliet thing?” Jeonghan asks brightly.
“The story of Romeo and Juliet only works because they’re equals,” Hansol says. “To Seungkwan, I’m the bad guy.”
“That’s right, actually,” Wonwoo says. People misinterpret Romeo and Juliet a lot—he’s impressed.
“It is not,” Jeonghan says sternly. “I know about bad guys, and you are not one. Hyung will talk to him.”
Hansol makes another odd noise, but he doesn’t tell Jeonghan not to do it. Jeonghan laughs aloud. He seems so relaxed and happy already—someone Wonwoo could only occasionally glimpse inside the quiet person he has known.
Their destination, a generic apartment building, is near the police agency. Hansol stays in the car but watches until they’re through the front door.
The one-room Jeonghan is staying in is nothing fancy but it seems perfectly safe and serviceable, larger than Wonwoo’s old place was. Jeonghan is everywhere—the bed is an unmade nest, one corner is piled with laundry, and the counter is strewn with empty plastic bags. It’s enough of a mess that most people would apologize for it, but Jeonghan doesn’t.
“Are you hungry?” Jeonghan opens the small refrigerator. “We might have to order something, I don’t think I have anything.”
Wonwoo looks past Jeonghan’s shoulder into the refrigerator and is surprised to see it almost full—though on closer look, there’s nothing in there but containers of kimchi. “Um,” he says.
“Yeah, I’m into kimchi now,” Jeonghan says lightly. “But none of that is ready to eat yet.”
“I see,” Wonwoo says, even though he doesn’t, really.
“I thought it would give me something to do when I can’t sleep.” Jeonghan doesn’t quite meet Wonwoo’s eye. He scoops a stack of papers off a stool by his counter and points Wonwoo to sit there. “But the thing is, you can’t try it right away, so I keep finding new recipes that I think might be better and then I want to see how they turn out, too.”
“I see,” Wonwoo says again, more gently, because now maybe he does.
“Stop saying that.” Jeonghan leans against the counter, back of his hand on his cheek like he’s blushing. “Anyway. Do you need to eat?”
“No, I ate at Mingyu’s,” Wonwoo says. “I just want to hear how you’ve been.”
“You first,” Jeonghan says. “Mingyu said you got a good deal, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else. What’s happening to you now?”
“A lot of depositions,” Wonwoo says. “And then I guess it depends on what actually goes to trial. The—” he stops himself before he says caseworker— “guy from witness protection didn’t want me to go back to my apartment, so I’m staying with Mingyu.”
Jeonghan nods.
“And afterwards, uh… the guy mentioned placing me as a park ranger again.” Wonwoo’s throat closes up—he wants this so badly, he can’t let himself trust it’s real until he has it. “He seemed surprised I was willing to do it, much less interested. So I guess that might actually happen.”
“Oh, cool,” Jeonghan says. “I can totally see you doing that.”
Wonwoo can see it too clearly. He cups a hand around his ribs to calm his heart. “We’ll see how it works out, I guess. What about you? I thought you’d be in California by now.”
Jeonghan shakes his head. “I’m not allowed to leave the country, actually. I’m a witness for Mingyu’s kidnapping case, and there are a bunch of other charges the police want me to press. Secretary Im was careful to keep the company and the illegal stuff as separate as he could, but there was some IT stuff, like tracing my phone, and…” he trails off. His hand moves like he’s going to touch his throat, that nervous gesture, but he puts it back down first.
“The pictures?” Wonwoo asks.
Jeonghan nods. “Dongho is helping me figure out what exactly to do, but there will be something. I’ll have my own case.”
“That’s good,” Wonwoo says.
Jeonghan raises his eyebrows.
“I mean,” Wonwoo says quickly, “I understand why we were just trying to pin the Chairman with tax evasion. But it would be right for him and for the company to answer for what they did to you. I think that’s good.”
Jeonghan’s lip curls doubtfully. “Mingyu says I should do it, because one day I’ll feel that way, too. Right now, I just—I don’t know. Did Mingyu tell you about the Chairman?”
Wonwoo hasn’t heard anything. His new lightness feels strange, all the sudden, that old weight pulling on him. His tongue won’t move, so he shakes his head.
“He had a heart attack in jail,” Jeonghan says. “So he’s in custody in the hospital now, and he might manage to die before he has to answer for anything, actually.” Jeonghan’s mouth crumples, and his hands twitch strangely, another gesture he cuts off. “If I let myself think about it too much, I can get really upset. But also, you know—” He waves behind him, to the refrigerator. “The cabbage isn’t going to chop itself.”
“Right.” Wonwoo can barely wrap his mind around it. He wouldn’t be sorry to hear of the Chairman’s death. He reaches forward and takes Jeonghan’s jittery hand in his own, and Jeonghan lets him, stepping closer.
“After everything is over, I guess I can leave the country if I want,” Jeonghan says. “But—you know, I wanted that because I thought it was the only place I could go. I thought Joshua was the only person left who cared about me. But I don’t actually want to go to a country where I don’t speak the language and get into a sham marriage if I don’t have to. And Joshua doesn’t want to marry me, either. He wants to be my friend and fuck models on the beach or whatever he does.”
Wonwoo twists his mouth. He wants to argue. He wants to cry. “I really wanted that to work out for you.”
“You’re completely obsessed with marrying me off to Joshua,” Jeonghan says. There are many complicated layers of flippancy and hesitancy in his voice. “I said once that it was maybe a possibility, and then it was all you could think about.”
“I want you to be safe,” Wonwoo says, “and I want you to have what you want. If you can have that here, then of course—of course I—” His throat really does close up. Of course I want you to stay. He wraps his other hand over Jeonghan’s, holding it tighter.
“I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do,” Jeonghan says. “But Seungkwan is helping with this apartment and everything for now, and Dongho says that while the company is restructuring anyway, we might get them to settle for a lot. So, there might be some money. Maybe I can have some time before I have to figure out what to do next.”
“That’s good,” Wonwoo says. “I hope that works out, too.”
Jeonghan grins suddenly, splitting the mood open with light. “Maybe a handsome park ranger I know will let me come visit his mountain for a bit.”
Wonwoo wants it so much. He’s not used to wanting things that are actually possible, maybe even likely. “I’d be happy to have you.”
“Good. But Wonwoo-yah,” Jeonghan adds, tone dropping as his eye contact slides away, “I don’t want to do the boyfriend stuff anymore. I think I’m done with all that.”
“Oh.” Wonwoo feels every possible emotion at once, and focuses on the rush of cool relief. It’s good that Jeonghan is thinking about his boundaries, and articulating them. He lets go of Jeonghan’s hand—he should have asked before just grabbing him like that. “Sorry. Of course. I would never assume anything.”
Jeonghan leans nearer, and his smile crinkles a little, conspiratorial. “Wonwoo-yah,” he says again, pulling the vowels out long. “That was a lie.”
“Oh.” Wonwoo finds a few more emotions to feel, after all; he pauses, slowing down inside to stay alert, and Jeonghan is suddenly moving fast, nudging Wonwoo’s legs apart so he can stand very close.
“I admit, that one was a test,” Jeonghan says, putting his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders. “But you passed. What I actually want is for you to kiss me like you’ve been holding back from kissing me, and then sleep in the same bed with me all night, and then move us to a mountain somewhere so we can get old together.”
“Oh.”
“Say something else.”
Wonwoo holds Jeonghan’s waist and blinks up at his face. “We’ll have plenty of kimchi,” he says.
Jeonghan laughs—head back, meaning it. Wonwoo touches the corner of his smile, knows the shape of Jeonghan’s face in his hand. Even if it doesn’t work out exactly that way, well, Wonwoo can do whatever for work. If Jeonghan is staying, and willing to have him, Wonwoo can build his new life on that and figure the rest out.
“I know, there’s something you said,” Wonwoo starts slowly. “And I didn’t say it back. The thing is, I feel like it’s kind of a—a promise.” He feels so awkward, his words halting, but it’s important to get them exactly right. He returns his hand to Jeonghan’s waist and holds on. “And I don’t want to say it until I know I can follow it through. But I—I do feel it.”
Jeonghan is still smiling, his gaze very soft and warm all over Wonwoo’s face. “I thought you would want to argue with me. Give me a whole lecture about taking it slow or something.”
Wonwoo shakes his head. No, he’s not going to argue. There’s no taking it slow when they’ve already run the whole race, and when all he wants, too, is to lay his head down on Jeonghan’s pillow and rest.
“I want everything you said,” he says. “The reason to take it slow is so it’s easy to change your mind. So just as long as you know, if you ever change your mind about any of that, it’s okay.”
“No, thank you,” Jeonghan says. He lifts his hands away from Wonwoo’s shoulders, bouncing them down his arms like he isn’t sure where to let them land. “Are you still making up your mind?”
“No. But I already chose you freely,” Wonwoo says. “I want you to be able to choose who you want, when everybody is so nice to you all the time you don’t even notice anymore. I’d be honored if it was me, but I understand it might not be.”
Jeonghan’s hands fall still in the crooks of Wonwoo’s elbows, fingertips closing around his triceps and pressing there. “Dummy,” he says happily. “I had that, a life with the person I chose. And when things got bad, it wasn’t strong enough, and you were there. So thank you for the offer, but I will still choose you.”
“Okay,” Wonwoo says. “The offer stands, though.”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Also, I’m not going to be meeting very many people, because we’re going to be very picky about who we let on our mountain. I’m not dealing with anyone who annoys me.”
“Absolutely,” Wonwoo says. “Anything you want.”
“I want to invite Joshua and make him sleep in a tent,” Jeonghan says, and cackles.
“Yeah, I want to meet him, too,” Wonwoo says. “I think it might have been the Hail Marys that saved us, in the end.”
“You’ll meet him anyway, he’s coming for a visit soon.”
“Cool,” Wonwoo says. Lightly, he adds, “We should invite our parents, too.”
A strange, still shiver moves through Jeonghan. “Mine might not want to come.”
“Well, we won’t know unless we invite them,” Wonwoo says.
“I guess that’s true,” Jeonghan says. His gaze is lost somewhere behind Wonwoo’s head—he pulls it back and brightens. “You better not leave me while I’m asleep like that again.”
“Never,” Wonwoo says solemnly. “Even if I have to get up at dawn to work in the woods, I’ll make a ton of noise and make sure you’re really, really awake.”
Jeonghan squints, and Wonwoo lets his serious face break into a grin, and Jeonghan shakes his head. “We’ll see.”
He combs his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair and Wonwoo lets his head tilt back. Jeonghan’s fingertips fall in two lines down the nape of his neck, and somehow he takes Wonwoo’s whole body into his hands.
Wonwoo’s heart is so light. He feels impossible inside, like he’s full of helium, like without Jeonghan to tether him, he’d float away.
If they already had their last kiss, then they get another first. Wonwoo can do it properly, like Jeonghan deserves. Instead of leaning in for it, Wonwoo asks, “Can I kiss you?”
“Yeah,” Jeonghan says. “Do it like I said.”
Wonwoo hums his yes and cups Jeonghan’s head in his hands and pulls him down to kiss him like he’s been holding back from kissing him. He guides Jeonghan’s mouth open with his own and takes him slow and full.
Jeonghan kisses back hard, fast, right away—hungry, like Wonwoo knew he would be—but Wonwoo doesn’t let him push. He eases away and comes back without rushing, holding Jeonghan’s face still. This is what he’s been holding himself back from—savoring it, trusting that he has time and they can have as much as they want, so it’s all right to move slowly enough to feel every point of warm contact.
He has to take it away and bring it back a couple more times before Jeonghan gets it, but he settles into Wonwoo’s pace, kissing back with only enough gentle pressure to match Wonwoo’s. The balance is exact, precise—they could hold this equal tension forever, it feels like, except Jeonghan needs more. He makes small wanting noises and breathes so hard his chest is heaving in Wonwoo’s arms.
Wonwoo pulls back, letting his hands slide down Jeonghan’s shoulders and chest. “Like you said.”
“Tease.” Jeonghan shakes his head, but he’s dazed and flushed from Wonwoo’s kisses, so he doesn’t look very stern. He likes what Wonwoo gives him—maybe it’s smug to be so sure, but Wonwoo knows it and he likes giving it.
“Now I’m saying, let’s move to the bed,” Jeonghan says. He steps over first, yanking the wrinkled cover off, and Wonwoo follows, his hands drawn to Jeonghan’s body. Jeonghan’s neck is a long curved line, bare now, ready for Wonwoo’s lips. Jeonghan leans into it, and then guides Wonwoo to sit on the bed with a few little touches that Wonwoo’s body easily yields to.
As Jeonghan climbs over him, Wonwoo lifts his face and parts his lips and lets the balance between them tip in Jeonghan’s favor. Jeonghan grins and bites him lightly on the lower lip, and then rips his shirt off with efficiency and pushes him back. Wonwoo stretches out. The mattress underneath him is all Jeonghan’s, and the hands touching him, and right now there is really nothing that matters except letting himself belong to Jeonghan.
Jeonghan runs one finger down the center of Wonwoo’s body, throat to navel. Wonwoo feels it all over, shivering; Jeonghan stares like Wonwoo is the beautiful one.
He takes his own shirt off more slowly, settling between Wonwoo’s legs so that as he rocks forward, they’re pressed together from hips to chests. Jeonghan is already getting hard, just from Wonwoo’s careful kisses.
“Would it be enough, like this?” Jeonghan asks, rocking his hips again and making himself tremble.
Wonwoo wraps his arms around Jeonghan’s body, hands across his skin to soothe his shaking and to feel him so close, and tries to take in enough breath to match how huge he feels inside his body. Enough? It’s almost too much, and he doesn’t want to lose himself in another frenzy. “Yeah, like this.”
Wonwoo finishes getting them both undressed, trapped under Jeonghan and blissfully struggling for it. Jeonghan’s hand is too small to hold both of them together at once, but the way he strains to try is the best tease Wonwoo has ever felt, and Wonwoo lets it unravel him until he can’t take it anymore.
He wraps his own hand over Jeonghan’s, and Jeonghan gasps and snaps his hips into the tighter grip. Wonwoo muffles his moan against Jeonghan’s shoulder, not because he has to be quiet but because Jeonghan’s skin tastes so good. There’s no word that matters except his name, so that’s what Wonwoo says, over and over and over, until Jeonghan leans down and whispers Wonwoo’s name back.
Incheon International Airport is a dome of light like a crystal ball, catching and refracting the high, smooth blue sky until it sparkles. Jeonghan wanted to make a sign even though it isn’t really necessary. He used three tubes of glitter glue, two pink and one gold.
Neither Wonwoo nor Jeonghan is comfortable in this kind of a crowd, but they keep one another close, and Hansol walks a few steps behind them into the arrivals lobby, his uniform naturally creating space around them. Jeonghan is so excited he’s almost vibrating. He keeps making little hops, like he could see over the closed doors.
Finally, the doors open on a stream of people. Wonwoo points to a girl in a touristy Los Angeles sweatshirt, and Jeonghan holds his sign overhead.
Wonwoo recognizes Joshua right away, less from speaking to him on a single dark video call than from the way the crowd parts around him and Jeonghan starts waving his sign and beaming.
Joshua smiles when he sees him, first truly and then with a wry twist as he takes in the sign. “You’re ridiculous,” he calls.
“I want everyone to know I’m friends with this handsome guy,” Jeonghan says as Joshua closes the distance. “Even after such a long flight, I can’t believe it! You must have worked hard.”
“I—” Joshua pauses and shakes his head. “You know what, fine. You win this one.” He pulls Jeonghan suddenly into a hug, dropping the handle of his rolling suitcase to do it.
Wonwoo collects the suitcase and the sign out of Jeonghan’s hand so Jeonghan can hug Joshua back.
They stay there for a long time, exchanging a couple brief whispers. When Joshua finally pulls back he blows out a long, unsteady breath, and they both avoid one another’s eyes.
Joshua reaches for his lost suitcase and finds Wonwoo. He pauses to give him a long, surveying look, down and up. “This is your Wonwoo?” he asks Jeonghan, some dry amusement in his tone. “Of course it is.”
Jeonghan shrugs, smug about something. “My Wonwoo. I like how that sounds.”
“Nice to meet you,” Wonwoo says politely. He feels stupidly, gleefully proud of himself. “I promised you that you’d get to hug him in the airport, remember?”
Joshua’s face goes blank until he remembers the precise words of their one phone call, and then he drops his head back and laughs.
“I guess you did,” he says. “I guess we made it.”
Hansol keeps his watchful position in the back of the group, so Wonwoo goes ahead. He handles the doors and the bag so that Jeonghan can keep holding his friend’s hand on the walk to the car. They’re planning what they’re going to do during Joshua’s visit—Wonwoo isn’t listening closely, but he keeps hearing his own name in Jeonghan’s voice.
Wonwoo folds this memory carefully away, one perfect moment to remember, like he needs to check it off a list when he gets back to the car. Maybe he will start keeping lists—promises made and promises kept. One more today.