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The last time that Sunwoo went to a drive-in theatre, he went back to the dormitory with a grin, arms pulling him into alternating headlocks, and Haknyeon’s number saved into his phone.
It didn’t go exactly like that, a few details skimmed and skipped over. Refresh, start over. It was a bar, not a drive-in. It was his roommates, a few seats over, wiggling eyebrows and overtly encouraging him to go for it. Go for the bartender who you’ve been eyeing the whole night, we noticed.
The drive-in is still a point. They trespassed through its fences to get to the bar after all, running in sneakers and a mutual friend waiting in a booth, telling them to take a shortcut. Sunwoo doesn’t think of himself as that much of a drinker, the bitterness and weird taste haven’t taken a good seat on his tongue even after many tries. He still took large gulps then—flushed and unfortunate when he ended up asking Haknyeon for some water.
Arguably though. After some time and some more thoughts, he takes his eyes off of the projector screen, slots Haknyeon’s cup of soda into a cup holder after taking a gulp, and feels glad about how things turned out.
Haknyeon’s car is nice. Comforting. He’s so focused on the movie but Sunwoo focuses on him. Curiously asks out of nowhere, “Would you call yourself a cinephile?”
What he receives at first is a faint snort. And then, “I think the righter term for that is a film snob.”
Sunwoo lifts his brows, senses something playful in the way Haknyeon speaks. “Well,” he prods him in the shoulder, “would you?”
“Would a film snob willingly pay to watch a movie that’s been rated an average six? And actually enjoy it?” he rhetorically says.
“Ironically, yeah. Genuinely if people are dubbing it ‘a misunderstood masterpiece’,” Sunwoo still offers some options. The third pick, most plausible one: “Even more genuinely if he’s a fan of Guy Ritchie.”
“That one of the actors?”
Sunwoo’s shoulders shake as he laughs. “No, the director.” His friend would take it more personally than he should if he heard that. “I guess that’s a no.”
Haknyeon looks at him, unperturbed by the ordeal. “Would you call yourself a film snob?”
At that, Sunwoo hums, giving it an actual thought. “A movie’s good as long as I don’t fall asleep. Whether that’s a pro or a con in your list is up to you, hyung.”
Haknyeon takes that with a grin. “We’re talking in the middle of a movie, I don’t think I have any say.” It softens into a confession as if they’re seated inside a theater. “Besides, it’s not like you’re going to like everything about me. Making a pros-and-cons list to decide if someone is a good match or not feels hypocritical.”
“Am I a good match so far?” Sunwoo asks, teases, not really expecting any actual answer.
It’s the first time that they’re meeting after a few weeks of messaging back and forth, Haknyeon being more and more flirtatious in the subtlest way possible as it goes on. Sunwoo isn’t like him, hasn’t really gone out with anyone like him either. That’s a conversation for another time though. He hopes there will be another time.
From what he has come to know about him, he doesn’t seem like the type to take things at face value. Because there’s something new that hasn’t been here the entire night. Some sort of honesty that’s so bare, it sheds its skin.
“This has been the highlight of my week,” Haknyeon tells him, simple as that, and focuses back on the movie just as the action picks up again.
The mandate of a first date is to find out if it’s worth another. Sunwoo skipped out on today’s late afternoon class for this, matching his time to Haknyeon’s rotating shift. Gets a soft knuckle on his forehead on the drive back, gets into a round of post-movie discussion. Before dropping him off, Haknyeon kisses him on his cheek.
He spends the rest of the night with the most stubborn grin latched on, and his roommates amusingly telling him to cut it out.
—
On bustling weekends, a twenty-minute drive becomes fifty and the road side pavement across his campus is lined up with parking vehicles; the side walk, jam-packed with pedestrians. Hoods on and opened umbrellas ricocheting raindrops.
“It’s all red.” Haknyeon looks apologetic. Sounds like it.
It’s not his fault that tonight’s traffic happens to be at an all-time high. Waze seems to suggest that between the current weather and the fate of getting stuck between honking cars and everyone’s thinning patience, the optimal choice is to just wait it out.
Sunwoo wouldn’t say that this is a bad way to end their date. Given the circumstances, he wouldn’t say that it has ended just yet. Parked near down an alleyway where the stores have closed, late-night restaurants buzzing, they’re two full stomachs, Sunwoo’s failed attempts at learning to hold his liquor, and clothes stained in droplets of rain.
He hiccups, hopefully the last one. Something else washes over Haknyeon’s face, faint, and he reaches over to stroke Sunwoo’s cheek. “Want me to buy you some water?”
He has no idea what he’s doing to Sunwoo. Flushed, Sunwoo waves his hand around.
“So stubborn,” Haknyeon chuckles, nods once. Drops his hand and lets it land on the gear shifter. “I’ll try and find another way so don’t worry, okay? It shouldn’t take too long.”
The thing is, there are a couple of things wrong—misguided really—with what Haknyeon said even though it comes from a good place. The most glaring one being that, regardless of the leftover heat from spicy chicken wings inside Sunwoo’s mouth and a shitty shit waiting for him in the morning, he mumbly says, “I’m not in a rush to go back.”
Haknyeon isn’t convinced. “You said you’re running behind on your—modeling-programming project.”
“‘Modeling-programming’? It’s a group project, I’m still waiting for the other guys to finish their part. I have some time until then. So, relax, hyung.” Because Sunwoo wants to stay with him a little longer, hooking his fingers on Haknyeon’s chin, and brings him closer. “Having unpleasant flashbacks to your college days?”
While leaning into Sunwoo’s touch, Haknyeon rolls his eyes and jokingly chides, “I’m thirty-three, not fifty-three.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Just like your degree will be in a few years, I’m calling it.” Sunwoo laughs and pushes Haknyeon’s face away. Tells him to shut up. “Kidding—I’m kidding.”
And Haknyeon uses this chance to link their fingers together.
Sometimes, Seoul alone feels so vast and so fast that picking up the pace will break your bones and you’re reminded that you don’t have the strength to start over. He’s lost count over how many times him and his friends made throwaway comments about dropping out together, his dad gave even less of a shit and said that there’s always room in the family business. Jokes are the way they are because they’re stemmed from underlying truth when spoken.
When he hears those, he hears this: CompSci is the new Business major for people who don’t know what to pick after high school yet still isn’t ready to dive into salary checks and fifteen vacation days.
Consequentially, he hears this, too: Haknyeon wasted four years of his life to work a 9-to-5 and gave it up for a bartending license.
Sunwoo hasn’t regretted anything huge so far in spite of past turmoils and current exasperation at Haknyeon’s words, finding and gathering his footing in his final year, one step at a time.
It feels surreal for one. Haknyeon doesn’t give in even after that. At all. Unruffled and determined to drive Sunwoo back. And he called Sunwoo stubborn. They’re jammed by red traffic lights, turning signs and the light pitter-patter turning violent in making the car feels cold and colder.
Haknyeon turns off the AC after Sunwoo folds up his legs and curls up on himself. He lies a hand on top of the older man’s that’s seeping warmth onto his knee, the outside frenzy feels far in front of his eyes.
It feels too comforting for two. Like they’ve been together for a while that Sunwoo wants to go in for a simple kiss every time they meet up. But. They’re not together. Not really. Nothing has been said. Aside from Haknyeon and his developing habit of kissing Sunwoo’s cheek to end their dates, that’s about it. Sunwoo thinks about this, questioning it. Thinks about if Haknyeon has other dates to get to, and questions this until his mind is puddled like water splashes under the car’s wheels. If Haknyeon also does this with them. If Haknyeon has already kissed them. Over and repeat until he decides if they’re a good match.
Sounds like complete bullshit. Sunwoo still rummages through it.
It’s only after they’ve finally pulled up at Sunwoo’s usual drop-off point and Haknyeon unlocks the car doors that he says what he wants, hurried and not at all pre-arranged.
“Haknyeon hyung.” With the interior light on the ceiling switched on, he can see Haknyeon physically pausing. “Thank you for tonight. I know we’re not exclusively seeing each other but I,” thinks and thinks and settles with, “I really enjoy your company these past few weeks.”
Voice steady, Haknyeon asks, “Have you been going on dates with someone else?” Just sounds careful. A little perplexed.
“No.”
The look that’s swimming in Haknyeon’s gaze says a bit more though. “Are you thinking about it?”
Sunwoo licks his lips. Feels them as dry as his voice because he kind of expects more confrontation—more pressing and raising, the ones that he’s familiar with. “I’m not. It never crossed my mind.”
“Okay,” Haknyeon responds and reclines his head more against the headrest. “Neither have I nor do I want to, so where is this coming from?”
Somewhere, some place. “Nowhere, I was just thinking. What ifs and all of those thoughts.” With some mirth resurfacing, he adds, “Relax.”
Feelings are arbitrary. Turbulent, a whirlpool that makes you want to walk down a path where a hurricane has gone. Homes in ruins and scarred for life. Sunwoo has had a few shares of situation-ships that hit a wall, bled until there’s nothing left to shed and the last one had lasted six months.
“Okay,” Haknyeon says once more, guilelessly smiling. There’s an unspoken agreement here, waiting to be acknowledged. “Goodnight then, Sunwoo.”
Houses can be rebuilt, marks and wounds can heal over time.
Haknyeon is, perhaps, the calm after a hurricane. Perhaps, the home to rebuild, the life to regain.
Before Haknyeon’s lips could touch his cheek, Sunwoo is upfront and so telling about what he has been wanting to do. He redirects them. Occupies his hands with Haknyeon’s neck, thumbs on either side of shaped jaws. It’s chaste, it’s quick.
“Goodnight, hyung.” Kisses him again. And again. The interior ceiling light falls gently on Haknyeon’s face despite the harsh angle, making shadows fall long when he looks up at Sunwoo through his lashes. Sunwoo wants to kiss him again. He does. A couple of times. He softly repeats, a breath hovering, “Hyung, goodnight.”
Haknyeon leans in for the third time that night; one hand unbuckling the seatbelt panning across Sunwoo’s chest, another on the passenger side door—locking it down. And the world keeps on revolving inside of a humming car, knocking teeth and tittering mouths are their peace to share.
He asks Sunwoo to be his boyfriend there and then.
—
Sometimes there’s nowhere to go and most of the time, it’s okay.
Haknyeon’s apartment is an option, Sunwoo’s house is another. One is being run by a wagging tail and stubby legs, the other by a small family of four. Both welcome newcomers like an old friend and Sunwoo doesn’t want to jinx it, but his sister is amused, his dad is already asking about the next time when Haknyeon will make those crow’s feet into laugh lines and his mom is fond of Haknyeon’s company in the kitchen by their side.
Breaking news and breaking hearts—Before this, Haknyeon has had only been with two people his whole life. One in high-school, one in college. Two things in common: got approached, lasted a few good years before distance cut them off. Sunwoo learns this with a pair of chopsticks in his mouth, his roommates looking over his shoulders, and Haknyeon and his ‘ke-ke-ke’s asking him to stay in the city if he can.
He likes them as they are. Likes him as he is, he thinks. Someone to call during rushing deadlines and haywire projects, someone to think about when coming across text posts and videos. Seeing that he’s just one of many.
Haknyeon shares that his five-year-old niece is recuperating after a month of hospital stays. She squeals when he visits, sticks her tongue out at her parents for saying that he’s too busy being somebody else’s Prince Charming and refuses to get up from his lap. They didn’t get to record it, consumed and anchored in mirth for once, and maybe, to Haknyeon, Sunwoo is someone to be let in into the nooks and crannies of what makes him, well. Him.
Car rides are getting timid for no reason when Sunwoo catches on the implications, idly massaging the back of Haknyeon’s neck, sharing more stories to come. Car rides are parking lots, flushed cheeks, sleeves wiping the corners of his mouth; a boner and an abashed laugh to hide when their kiss gets too heated. Car rides are backfiring and backpedaling, and a late-afternoon class to get to in the midst of Haknyeon trying to help him cool down.
Playlists, drive-throughs, certain places, certain phrases. Car rides are witnessing the trickle of influences that Haknyeon lets Sunwoo leave on him.
—
Haknyeon is being a dick in theory, a lover in practice. Complies, complies and punctuates his amusement by having Sunwoo perched on the hood of his car. Laughs into Sunwoo’s mouth like adorned adoration, steals his lips over and over and hangs this moment up like it’s one for the museum.
Complies—Haknyeon inches just a little bit closer each time Sunwoo beckons him.
Fluttering, flattering, pulse flattening. These are the trite butterflies in your stomach and the novel rundown of what lovers do. Far away from dense areas, from other people on their dates, other people hackneyed into an escape, the night chill is serenading tall trees and goosebumps are billowing into an urge for Sunwoo to buck his hips when travel goes low.
Complies—Runs a hand under Sunwoo’s hoodie, up and down his chest, light brushes on nipples. Scrambled thoughts and scrambling for words in the nods of his head.
The riverbank is their soil while its seas are the rippling cosmos that calmly spectates Sunwoo’s half-lidded gaze, carrying more weight as his dick twitches in Haknyeon’s hand. Sunwoo leans back on his palms, sensations prickling and shuddering, and Haknyeon is a dick because there’s something so dauntingly playful in his eyes whenever Sunwoo lets out a whine that’s out of his control. He wants to think that this is love. To be at your most vulnerable and yet, it still feels like yourself. It’s still you.
They don’t get away with a lot. When they do, Sunwoo doesn’t look back when he leaves his dorm life for some time in the potholes of Haknyeon’s schedule. Tinted windows and a reclining driver seat, city view and a chaise lounge, dim skies and buildings’ walls.
Sometimes, when they’re exchanging open-mouthed kisses, rubbing down on each other just enough—just right, he’d turn the car radio off and put the show on TV on pause just to let Haknyeon’s sighs and groans be the most vivid thing that he hears.
Haknyeon knows how to give and Sunwoo is on the precipice of never getting enough of any of it.
It’s like this: you like the company, you like the attention; birds of a feather flock together but Sunwoo would like to differentiate himself from his peers once Haknyeon’s open palm is asking him to hold his hand, and his open mouth is asking him to share about his day. Cherish this silly little thing between them.
It’s not that Sunwoo is ashamed. Far from it actually. They’re too vigorous for their own good, what started as a drive and a usual date night took a turn when Sunwoo saw the slip of a movie ticket tucked into a slot of Haknyeon’s wallet. A piece of paper isn’t everything by any means. His own had already been crumpled up long ago, thrown into the first trash bin he saw.
On the other hand, telling Haknyeon that they’re alone, slotting their mouths that probably taste like the dinner they had before driving here. This counts as everything.
Haknyeon stands between his legs, fingers stroking him tight and slow. Attentive, keen eyes that makes his headspace a bit more deluded. Sunwoo’s sweatpants are already pooling by his ankles, boxers sagging down to hug his thighs and maybe, even if it’s just a fleeting thought, he wishes that he has more self-restraint than this. This isn’t the time, this isn’t the place. The car hood is a glistening silver, a sharp cold to the back of his thighs that negates the warmth of Haknyeon’s hand and the tightening coil in his stomach.
Punctuates—Every so often, their proximity causes Haknyeon to shift forward and it doesn’t fall short on being deliberate on the older man’s end. As if pumping Sunwoo like this isn’t enough. Sunwoo scampers to sit more right up, rocks his hips as the hardening bulge in Haknyeon’s jeans grinds on his fully-exposed dick again.
“Hyung...” Sunwoo’s head lolls to the side, debilitating voice breaking into soft moans. One of his hands slip from bracing his own weight, taking pride and his best in unbuckling Haknyeon’s belt.
Haknyeon’s breath is coming in short. Sunwoo feels it getting heavy on the crook of his neck and the dip that overtakes his voice. “This okay for you, baby?”
“Yes,” Sunwoo says, immediate, panting and knees weak. It feels more than okay. “I like it.”
Being jerked off shouldn’t feel this good. Or it should—it doesn’t matter, he can’t give two shits about it when he’s so turned on and the casualty of a hazed mind is a simple task feeling so impossible to accomplish. He pulls down the zipper of Haknyeon’s jeans, weakly tries to pop open the button with little to no avail. With the way that Haknyeon thumbs at his tip, using spares of spit and the pre-cum dripping out of his sensitive slit, he doesn’t think he’d get far now.
He wants to touch Haknyeon, too. Just like this, possibly even more. See how he fits in his hand. See if he twitches and writhes the same.
Sunwoo feels like he’s losing it. Swallows and says, “I like everything that you do.”
“Tell me what you want.” Haknyeon’s murmur is muffled, drowned into gentle nips along Sunwoo’s jaw. “Tell me all of it.”
Hearing that, feeling this. “I want more of you. Please.” He couldn’t help it. Can’t. Draws back to kick his sweatpants and boxers off, needy—so needy, sinking against the hood of the car as he does so, and yanks Haknyeon forward in his haste. “Please.”
And the things that set him over the edge are the satisfied moans melding into his own parted lips, tongues on the run, and Haknyeon guiding him to lie further up, his knees pushed up to his chest.
Depositions and dispositions. He’s overthrown by how ruthlessly sweet Haknyeon can be.
The car doesn’t creak but it does let out a squeak and it squeals from time to time. Sweaty skin, the cause—the windshield wipers digging into his back and yeah, there’s always a better place, a better time. He gets an eyeful of Haknyeon in his entirety for the first time, tracing lean muscles and biceps in the front lines; feeling his own dick shamelessly throb, seeing how strained Haknyeon is in his briefs. Sunwoo’s delirious and losing strength to lubed fingers stretching him out.
Lazy strokes and cold tiles in the confined space of a bathroom are the only times Sunwoo does his bids. The shower head running, eyes closed and catching breaths with himself. Haknyeon doesn’t need to know about that. But Sunwoo gives himself away a little because it’s unavoidable. Doesn’t want to laugh but he does, a huff and two and bites down on his lip at the continuous squelching noises.
Haknyeon has his other hand rubbing down Sunwoo’s leg, a small smile playing on his lips. “What’s so funny?”
“I didn’t expect it to sound this loud,” he easily confesses. Feverish though when he feels his hole clenches, unabashed pleasure at the curls and crooks of Haknyeon’s fingers inside. Sunwoo pushes his hips lower, gasps at the third finger in. “K-Keep going, hyung.”
Haknyeon leaves a kiss on Sunwoo’s knee. His fingers sink deeper.
Sunwoo wants to believe that this is love. When the sickle shape of the moon paints something so intricately intimate to their flushed bodies down below. When the welcomed pain subsides and his words are incoherent, breathy cries between wanting this to last and wanting to chase the end. When Haknyeon drives him into oversensitivity, kisses him long and deep as they go.
There was never any fireworks. Not a single pop to light up the night sky.
—
It’s nothing, he’ll say. The backseat is too narrow of a space to do anything but they manage. His fingers are tangled in Haknyeon’s hair, combing the drenched and sticking bunch away. Everything in the way that Haknyeon looks at him; gentle caresses on his thigh, asking if he’s okay, promises to clean him up. The barely-there kisses Haknyeon leaves in the wake of hickeys detailing down his skin.
I’m fine, he’ll say. Recompenses and compasses the beauty marks that he spots, everywhere and anywhere, on Haknyeon’s neck, even by one of his ears and—they’re really pretty. Haknyeon does twitch when Sunwoo touches him, keeps wordlessly leaning in like he craves and starves for Sunwoo’s scattered kisses all over his face.
He looks at Sunwoo, too. Not really new, not familiar either. Teetering in the middle, directionless. So certain though. Like walking down a path with no directions in mind will still lead him somewhere with fairytale-like endings and the end of the honeymoon phase doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the end for them.
“What are you thinking about? Looking at me like that,” Sunwoo asks, hushed and blinking his thoughts away.
Haknyeon talks. Says a little, means a lot. It’s the most distant that Sunwoo has ever heard from him. You. Just you. He’s too—him. The small gap that separates them becomes no more, a fleeting kiss landing on the tip of Sunwoo’s nose sealing them closed shut. “You, Sunwoo. How much I love you.” Haknyeon is present now, tattoos his words into huffs of laughter that Sunwoo feels on his bare chest, eyes continue to be kinder with passing time. “Sorry. Is that too much?”
Sweet nothings and pillow talks are yours to keep, yours to give back. They’re not empty words. He says them to you all the time.
Say it, you’ll mean it someday.
Think about it now. There’s no way you don’t mean it. “I love you, too,” Sunwoo says. Pebbles in his throat, constricting breaths in a heaving chest.
Sometimes, as long as you try hard enough—really hard, two wrongs can make a right. He doesn’t really know what he wants in the long run. Classmates and friends boasting their respective boyfriends and girlfriends, lovestruck all-year round, making a right through hard times. They said that he’s lucky (he knows), said that he must be head over heels (he knows).
He likes Haknyeon. He does. He knows that it can be worth it to try.
Haknyeon’s eyes don’t glimmer—they’re not stars, they’re not lights bouncing off of metal. But Sunwoo sort of gets it now: to be the sole witness as Haknyeon’s smile turns just a little bit shy, to know that he’s the cause of it; to be whose heartbeat speaks in tandem to Haknyeon’s languid, lapping kisses on his stomach, wayfaring down south; to be loved until his voice strains, and he sees blotted stars on the interior roof of a car.
This night is seamlessly endless. An excuse to stay like this, high on the highs. Chase Haknyeon’s compliant, cum-smeared mouth until sunrise comes, and they’re numbed all over.
—
Here’s the thing that Sunwoo notices the more he grows up. People have a lot to say about a lot of things even if they have nothing to say. Say a word, scream four more, it’s a never-ending contest of how many heads will turn and listen. Fundamentally opinionated at times, open to new narratives when they relent.
When it comes to relationships though, Sunwoo is asking. Will turn his head and listen to anyone with an answer.
Everyone will be saying the same thing: fireworks and butterflies, feelings and commitment—warm, warm, warmth—communicate, grow together, be there, just be there.
So. He’s there. Term paper revisions, an approaching deadline, his laptop running hot without sleep. There for car rides and wayfaring dates, throwaway ideas and Haknyeon picking up on his habits before the light turns green. Overnights and all-nighters, a dog’s clacking nails on hardwood floors and Haknyeon’s weary bones fighting fatigue after a late shift to stay up with him. Just enjoying each other’s presence like they’ve known each other far longer than this.
And Sunwoo will get the feeling that just being there isn’t an effort enough. (It’s not.)
They say that in the long run, feelings and commitment aren’t a package deal. Commitment builds feelings, makes them last; the butterflies don’t flee someplace else, the roof over your head will feel warm even during harshest winters. When it’s the other way around, it’s like relying on erratic sea waves not to make your sandcastle crumble and fall. You can’t really fall out of love if you were never in love in the fi rst place, it doesn’t work like that.
It works like this: Sunwoo overhears even as Haknyeon is muted acceptance and repeating mumbled ‘okay’s to his mom on the other line. It’s not on speaker, Sunwoo watches highways and fast lanes. The hazard warning lights are turned on, their timely ticks are nothing but pathetic noises in the face of Haknyeon’s mom making a fuss. Concerns, cavils, chastisements—all in one.
It works like this: Life goes by so fast. One day, you kids were calling me all the chance you had during summer camps, saying you missed being home and now, I have to bend over backwards just to hear from you. I don’t want you to look back, harbored by regret when you should be living your life. D on’t you wish to settle down? Find a nice girl, bring her home. You’re almost thirty-four, Haknyeon. Are you sure about this boy?
It works like this: “I’m actually really happy right now,” Haknyeon answers, mumbles. A smile in his voice despite things. His other hand occupies the steering wheel. “Mom. I’ll visit you and Auntie as soon as I can, okay?”
Sunwoo has a lot to say but he’s not sure what it is that he wants Haknyeon to hear. The worst thing to be is to be the mastermind behind a failing scheme; the bird that’s sitting by the window, returning with each season’s change. He hasn’t told anyone about this. Uncertain about uncertainty. He doesn’t want to think that it isn’t going to be worth it.
It works exactly, exactly like this: Sunwoo is overwhelmed. So, so overwhelmed.
Car rides are getting stilted.
—
I know I changed overnight
So, I can’t blame you for fighting
—
Most of the time, Haknyeon asks if he’d like to go with him somewhere and lately, Sunwoo stays inside his dorm room of three. Raising eyebrows, raising questions and deflects.
Haknyeon finds time in between extended shifts, Sunwoo keeps finding excuses in a two-week break. Building back up his own walls as effortless as he’s led to believe how Haknyeon teared them down.
Relationships. Feelings.
His texts are getting curt, phone calls ending when he makes it obvious that he doesn’t feel like talking. It takes a while for Haknyeon to respond now, passing seconds in appearing-disappearing bubble chats and throat clears. Still asking, still listening if Sunwoo wants to share.
“Sunwoo—yeah, okay, hold on. Hey,” Haknyeon heaves a breath, voice raspy and mild. “I have to go. When you’re free on the weekend...tell me? Please?”
Distantly, he thinks that maybe this is some form of love. The fact that he wants Haknyeon to keep fighting for him. Wants to see Haknyeon smile, hear him laugh and tell him that they’re still okay because it’s sort of fucked up that all this does is making Sunwoo’s chest squeeze and squeeze. And yet, he keeps going.
—
Pros: Haknyeon makes him feel seen. Safe, thrilled, a boring mesh of it all that allows him to bask in it. There will be fireworks, there will be butterflies. Following footsteps, setting up the cornerstone for them to grow. Because the feelings are there even when they feel so lackluster in comparison, the commitment’s there. It’s hard to give up and it’s even harder to let go.
Con: Haknyeon is there. He’s always—always there.
—
Sunwoo looks out the passenger window, palm pushing at his cheek. The car pulls to a stop, somewhere far on a Saturday and the radio plays the same pop songs on repeat that his roommates have been blasting. Volume turned down, so faint like an afterthought. He catches Haknyeon’s gaze through the glass before he catches the shop sign that’s hanging and catching wind.
They were driving for two hours, possibly more or so. Humming whenever Haknyeon said something, feigning ignorance whenever Haknyeon threw a glance. For the most of it, it was quiet.
“Really?” he dryly says, smiling a bit. The corners of his lips are a fickle thing, hiding behind his palm. Stares at anything if it means he doesn’t have to look at the mess he’s made. “There’s a lot of place in Myeongdong that sells gelato, you know.”
“Not this one. You said you wanted to try this one out, remember?” Haknyeon replies a beat later.
Sunwoo does. Maybe. A throwaway comment in a pile of things. “You can go ahead, hyung.” He feels Haknyeon’s eyes on him as he says that. He feels sick. Watches the other cars parked around with their engines turning off and hears their muted chatters and laughter. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for any ice cream.”
There’s something that’s been creeping up on him, gradually revealing itself as the air that hangs above them, stale and heavy and Sunwoo curls against the door a little bit more. A small sigh leaves Haknyeon’s lips and Sunwoo—he hates how detached it sounds.
This doesn’t feel fair, doesn’t feel right. Why doesn’t he stop? Why can’t he stop?
It’s so, so sickening. That Haknyeon sounds shrinking and small, placidly putting his words in place. “We’re already here though. Come on, you don’t have to order if you don’t want to, what do you say?” he coaxes, hesitant. “Accompany me?”
“I’ll wait for you in the car.”
When he braves a look through the glass window, it’s a blur and it’s the clearest view of Haknyeon that he’s seen in a while. In some twisted way, this could count as an accomplishment, right? To be loved by someone until seeing them hurt hurts you, too.
Haknyeon sinks in his seat, seatbelt unbuckling and a bob to his throat as he turns to face forward. He licks his lips and thins them down in the unbearable quiet.
“Okay, Sunwoo, what’s going on with you?” he asks, always gentle, full of patience. Strained, if Sunwoo were to be honest with himself. “You’ve been acting weird.”
At this, Sunwoo can’t help but to breathe out a laugh. Leans back against the headrest and owns up to the mess on their unmade bed. He’s lied in it for some time, didn’t dare to get up. At some point, he wanders and wonders if Haknyeon changes his mind, gets tired of him, thinks that he’s difficult now, a huge con in the list, a faulty gear in the grand scheme of a good match.
Looking at Haknyeon has never felt so trying but he keeps at it; takes in his complexion, the shape of his ear, his sideburns, the hints of stubbles growing on his chin, his scattering beauty marks.
Time doesn’t stop, it doesn’t jump around either. It stays, it lives and Sunwoo thinks a final thought: they’ve wasted all this time to be here like this.
After a while, Sunwoo finally says, “Pretty weird?”
Haknyeon shakes his head, lazy, and turns to Sunwoo, lips twitching into a smile that Sunwoo can hear. “Pretty fucking weird. Are you okay?” Like he’s still hoping that this is some kind of a sick joke that ever-transparent, never-a-curving-ball Sunwoo can pull off. “Are we okay?”
This is where he’s supposed to reach out. Say that it’s nothing, he’s doing okay, he’s fine. Haknyeon never makes him feel alone even as the map stretches and stretches, and their ticking watches collapse on each other’s end. And maybe, when it comes up his throat, he wants to ask—are you really happy, hyung?
Somehow, it’s easier to do this once you’re faced with one another. Their isolated reality, cards out on the table.
“Is it weird that when I think about you, I keep asking,” (why didn’t you say something? Why haven’t you said anything—) “why are you trying so hard?”
Haknyeon takes his time, collecting Sunwoo’s words. The car hums with no purpose. “Since I picked you up this afternoon...You notice how you’ve been looking at me?” He’s asking to be read but Sunwoo doesn’t want to. Stays silent while pretending that Haknyeon is still looking at him the same. None of that hurt sticking around. “You look at me like you don’t know me.” Haknyeon laughs, small and rueful. “You don’t even realize it. I thought you were being like this because I was too caught up in work to spend time with you.”
“Too caught up in work? You?” Sunwoo teases still. Not really. Fondly, truthfully says. This thing between them is dire. Parched, a bottomless well.
Haknyeon laughs again, the sound dying fast. “I didn’t say it was a good guess. I want us to work, Sunwoo. Do you?” And maybe, Haknyeon’s eyes do glimmer. Keening stars in the setting sun. “You can’t expect me to just sit here and take it.”
But. That’s exactly what he did. What he has been doing. Because Haknyeon is kind, he’s good in a sense that he tries not to sound as tired as he looks. Tries to give Sunwoo the benefit of the doubt when at the core of it, it costs him a lot and it causes them to be here after all is done and nothing is said.
This is Sunwoo trying to make them work, this is him wanting them to work.
Maybe. Sunwoo’s being too honest—too raw. He’s never been good with confrontations, averting his eyes as fast as lightning. “Maybe I don’t want to know you anymore.”
Car rides are watching Haknyeon let a wry comment slip out over other cars cutting lanes; his deepened frown when they’re at a rest stop, the fuel running empty and the price piling up. Car rides are listening to anecdotes about his close friends and their families, hearing the fondness hitting home. Car rides are finding out that he’s sentimental, cheesy at times. A genuinely good guy who cares too much far too many times.
“That’s it? That’s all you had to say about this?”
Sunwoo looks outside once more, sweaty hand against his cheek. He feels like crying. “Yeah.”
Haknyeon sounds shaky. “Okay. Okay. Ah. Fuck, Sunwoo, you can’t just—” Shakier. Heavier. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll take you home.”
It was never tidal waves that washed Sunwoo ashore, stranding him safe and sound while the seas took over everything else in its way.
But right now, it is that.
—
(Con: He wants Haknyeon to leave him alone. Not forever—never forever. He doesn’t want him to leave.)
—
Sunwoo is the calm before a hurricane. The piling moments before a bad day. The bird by the window, on the outside looking in, wanting a change when it’s too late.
—
Car rides were a makeshift bed in the backseat, long legs of a ten-year-old curled up as the time read 5AM and Seoraksan, at long last, was only a few kilometers away. Car rides were one driving test after another, hollering by the sidelines, and memories stored in a group chat.
Car rides are far and few, subway trains. The butterflies that survive after all.
—
Guess the space was the thing that I needed
But I miss you