Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sunoo doesn’t notice the note on the fridge until he’s already poured himself a glass of orange juice. A big glass, too, using up every last drop of the carton, and only when he goes to throw it into the recycling – and promptly pulls out a banana peel that had been thrown in there by his roommate – does he notice the pink sticky note on the fridge door.

He’d gotten used to checking for them, but this morning, he was in a bit of a daze. Or, more accurately, he was hungover, very hungover, because he’d been so nervous for his date the night before that he’d pregamed it, which was entirely unnecessary and absolutely the reason that it all fell apart before the sun even dipped below the horizon. But Sunoo lives in denial, and he will forever blame the serious serial killer vibes the guy was giving off. He just probably wouldn’t have said that out loud, to his face, if not for the drinks Jungwon had shoved into his hand while he was getting ready.

So it was another bad date. But it’s fine, because Sunoo has lots of bad dates. Too many to count, really, but he’s sure the number is approaching double digits by now.

It’s been three months. Three months since he and Heeseung broke up, three months since Sunoo had made the declaration that he was going to find a rebound, a good one, and all he has to show for it is a splitting headache and a glass of orange juice because someone broke the coffee maker last week and is citing his empty bank account as a reason why he can’t replace it.

And then there’s the note, like the metaphorical cherry on top that it is. Sunoo scoffs as he peels it off of the fridge, scrunching his face in annoyance as his eyes flit over Heeseung’s messy scrawl.

Don’t drink the last of the orange juice, it’s all I have to live for. - H

And that is the real problem, now that he thinks about it. Not the orange juice, but Heeseung, his continued presence in Sunoo’s life, his ability to stick a note with farm animals printed along the border and a stupid request written on it to the fridge that they share in the apartment that they share.

Because maybe his date would have gone fine – maybe all of his dates would have gone fine – if he didn’t have to start them off with one big, off-putting disclaimer.

Yeah, so, by the way, I live with my ex, because neither of us can afford to move out and even if we could, we can’t break our lease and lose our damage deposit. He sleeps in the room next to mine, so if you come home with me he’ll hear everything we do, and you will run into him the next morning, because he doesn’t have a job right now and he’s always around.

So. Suffice it to say, Sunoo hasn’t had a date end well – that is, with him getting railed on the cheap mattress he’d ordered the day after he and Heeseung broke up – since he’d put himself back on the market.

He’d like to blame it all on Heeseung, really, he would, but he has to admit that he hasn’t exactly been going out with winners. There were many reasons they weren’t winners in his eyes, but first and foremost, Sunoo is sure that any good, respectable date wouldn’t be put off by Heeseung, because it’s really not a big deal.

They don’t even talk. Not one word to each other, not in one full month, which was impressive because as he said, Heeseung is always home.

But when Sunoo gets home from work, Heeseung is sure to be in his bedroom – their bedroom, formerly – with the door closed. When Heeseung emerges to make himself some late night ramyeon – because now that they weren’t together, he doesn’t have to worry about Sunoo bugging him about his sodium intake – Sunoo makes sure that he’s already in bed.

They communicated in two ways: texting, if it was something that couldn’t wait, and if it could wait, they left notes on the fridge. They weren’t supposed to communicate at all if they could help it, but being roommates required a certain level of communication, so – sticky notes. For important stuff.

Like Heeseung’s life or death relationship with the orange juice that Sunoo was about to chug.

The last time they’d spoken real words to each other, the out-loud kind, it had ended in an argument. It almost always did, even though they were never really the arguing type when they were together. They were the silent treatment type, which came with its own problems, but they were problems he was used to, at least.

The arguing was a new sort of problem, because their arguments always escalated, and not just to the point of insults hurled each other’s way, although admittedly most of them came from Sunoo. Their last argument – over what, Sunoo can no longer remember – had ended with them in a passionate embrace, articles of clothing lining the hallway as they made their way into Heeseung’s room. Sunoo had snapped out of it just before Heeseung’s hand had started to creep down his pants, and that was the last time they’d spoken.

It was also the last time anyone had even gotten close to touching him, and Sunoo was going a little bit insane. He’ll admit it, he’s not ashamed. He has a healthy relationship with sex, really, but he still kind of needs it, at least more frequently than every three months or, god forbid, longer. For the last two years of his life before that he’d been having very regular sex, and now he wasn’t, and every date that ended with Sunoo going home alone was bringing him closer to the brink of madness. It’s fine. Nothing to be concerned about.

Heeseung doesn’t seem to be struggling, which Sunoo isn’t at all bitter about.

Last he’d heard – through Jungwon, after hours of Sunoo coercing him into spilling everything he knew – Heeseung had gone on a few dates with Jake, some guy he met at the gym, because Heeseung goes to the gym now. And Jake must not have a problem with the fact that he lives with his ex, because Jungwon had informed him with a grave expression that it seemed pretty serious, before Sunoo had told him to stop looking at me like that, I’m fine.

And he is fine. He’s fine, even though logic says that since Sunoo is the one that broke up with him, Sunoo should be the one having an easy time moving on. He’s fine, even though Heeseung seems totally fine, content to pretend like nothing bothers him about their fucked up situation, even though Sunoo is actually on the verge of doing something violent everytime he thinks about it for longer than three seconds. He’s fine, and Heeseung’s fine, and everything is fine.

So he’d like to blame it all on Heeseung, and he plans on doing so, regardless of whether or not Sunoo is making bad decisions in his love life. That’s what exes are for. They exist to point fingers at, to have a scapegoat to push all of his problems onto.

Sunoo drinks the orange juice, every last drop, and grabs a sticky note – this one has pigs on it, and Sunoo thinks it’s fitting – to write on in his much neater, much more put together handwriting.

I drank the orange juice. Good luck finding that will to live! - S

I would appreciate it if you would keep your music at a more respectable volume when you shower at night. Some of us are trying to sleep. - H

I can’t imagine what you need to be getting so much sleep for, considering your lack of employment. Some of us work late and need to shower at less than convenient times. - S

P.s. I’ve never once complain ed about you keeping me up screaming at Beomgyu over League, just for the record.

Interesting. If my memory serves me, I remember you leaving four notes complaining about that in the last month. - H

Can you please take your moldy food out of the fridge? You’re more committed to that leftover lasagna than you were to me. - S

I will continue to grow and strengthen my ecosystem until you stop taking up a whole shelf with your skincare products. - H

Buy more eggs

Excuse me, you don’t tell me what to do with my grocery list. - S

This is just my grocery list, Sunoo. - H

Oh. Please label it as such next time to avoid confusion. I did buy the eggs, though. - S

“I think you might be overreacting,” Jungwon – his traitorous, untrustworthy “best friend” – says, wearing his judgmental expression proudly even though he’s well aware that Sunoo can see him in the mirror. “He might not be aware of what he’s doing.”

“Oh, he’s aware,” Sunoo mutters darkly, leaning closer to the mirror as he starts tapping foundation into his cheek. “I left him three notes about it last week. He’s ignoring me.”

“And, to be clear, you don’t think there’s anything weird about what you just said?” Jungwon asks, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in that cat-like way that he does.

“Nope,” Sunoo confirms.

“Right. So you don’t think speaking to him about it would be more productive?”

“Nope,” he repeats stubbornly. “The note system works flawlessly, as long as it’s not disrespected. He’s leaving puddles of water all over the floor when he showers out of spite, not ignorance.”

“Oh, of course,” Jungwon says, making it clear that he saw no logic in Sunoo’s perspective whatsoever.

“He’s been showering too often these days, too.”

“I don’t feel like this is something I need to know about him,” Jungwon says, but Sunoo carries on, ignoring his protest.

“Like, he showers a few times a week normally, but it’s been like – every day, lately. It’s weird.”

“And why do you pay such close attention to his showering schedule?”

“If the water bill goes up, he’s paying it,” Sunoo argues, even though their water bill was included in their rent and neither of them were ever aware of if it was going up or down.

“You shower every day,” Jungwon points out.

“That’s not the point,” Sunoo snaps, glaring at his best friend as he starts messing with his hair, trying to get it to lay perfectly in the way he wants it. “It’s because of his new boyfriend, you know. Jake. He wouldn’t be caring this much about his personal hygiene if he wasn’t getting laid regularly by someone who isn’t used to his stench.”

“Please stop,” Jungwon begs. “You’re making me feel nauseous.”

“I’m just saying,” he sighs. “Like, do you think I’d be doing all this,” he gestures to his freshly made-up face, “If I wasn’t trying to get laid?”

“But you’re saying that hyung is already getting laid,” Jungwon clarifies.

“Somehow,” Sunoo mutters under his breath. “Hopefully, after tonight, I will be too.”

“I don’t know if this guy is going to be your winner,” Jungwon says, picking up Sunoo’s phone where it was still open to the profile they’d gone through only a few minutes ago. “He put his occupation as amateur magician. Not even a professional magician. An amateur one.”

“That tells me he’s still in touch with his inner child,” Sunoo insists. “That can be a sign of a very emotionally mature person.” The opposite of Heeseung, he thinks, but doesn’t say.

Jungwon is still friends with Heeseung. They meet for coffee every few weeks. Sunoo doesn’t hold it against him, because they were all friends long before Sunoo and Heeseung started dating, and he didn’t expect any of their mutual friends to pick a side. Sometimes, it was a blessing, like when Sunoo wants information on what Heeseung has been up to since the breakup. Sometimes, it’s a curse, like when Sunoo wants to talk shit about him to someone who won’t defend him. Usually, it’s a bit of both, all at once.

“Sure,” Jungwon agrees half-heartedly. “Or it could be a sign that he’s going to pull a coin from behind your ear while he's fucking you.”

Sunoo fights a shudder, his spine going ramrod straight as he finally meets Jungwon’s eyes in the mirror. “Oh god,” he whispers. “I’m going to cancel.”

“I think that might be wise,” Jungwon says.

“Ugh,” Sunoo groans, scanning over his own face in the mirror. “I look so good, too. What a waste.”

“Come out with me and Sunghoon and Jay,” Jungwon suggests. “Riki’s band is playing at a bar downtown, we’re going to watch.”

“Oh, definitely,” Sunoo says sarcastically. “Just what I need right now. To sit with Sunghoon and his boyfriend while you make eyes at your boyfriend on stage.”

“So you’re coming, then?”

“Will you buy me a drink?”

“I’ll buy you two if you go the whole night without mentioning Heeseung.”

“Deal.”

When Sunoo returns home later that night, admittedly a little tipsy despite only having three drinks – only one of which was bought by Jungwon, because he’d slipped up ten minutes in and went on a rant to Jay about Heeseung’s moldy leftovers ecosystem that was spreading to his own food on its own shelf – he beelines for the fridge, intending on chugging orange juice straight from the carton Heeseung had bought to replace the last one he’d drank against his wishes.

His attention, however, is immediately caught by a note.

How was your date? Did he pull a rabbit out of any suspicious places? Did he try to saw you in half? - H

“Jungwon, you traitor,” Sunoo mutters venomously, and he’ll yell at Jungwon later for telling Heeseung about the date-that-never-was, but for now he just crumples the note up and tosses it towards the garbage can, quickly scribbling out his own response.

I actually asked him to make you disappear, so I guess he is an amateur after all :( I’ll just have to keep trying! - S

Rejected, once again. But Sunoo can’t wrap his head around this one.

Rejected, by a man who showed up wearing sweatpants, who ordered chicken tenders and stared at the waitress’ ass as she walked away from their table. Sunoo should have been the rejecter, but once again, he'd somehow found himself the rejectee.

It’s not fair. Sunoo has a great ass, too. Phenomenal, even. No one has looked at it in ages, and he considers that a national emergency. It seems that he’s the only one concerned, however.

Sunoo’s a catch, and he knows it. He’d thought this would be easy. He’d thought he was dateable, that he was the kind of person someone could look at and imagine a future with. But that illusion had shattered long ago – probably in the same moment that he’d told Heeseung it was over and he didn’t even try to convince him to give them a second chance – and now Sunoo was stuck in an endless cycle of disappointment after disappointment.

And the disappointment truly is never ending, because when he walks through the front door to his apartment – and it’s late, and all he wants to do is take a bath and make himself a few drinks that are more vodka than orange juice and then sleep for forty-eight straight hours – Heeseung is slumped into the couch, the couch that Sunoo had bought for them, the one he was banned from sitting on now that they were no longer together.

Sunoo has had a long night. He’s had a long three months, and he’s already upset, and annoyed, and seeing the brief panic that turns into a smug grin on Heeseung’s face as he lifts his head to greet him does nothing to help either of those things.

Still, he supposes he could have been nicer about it.

“Of course you’re here right now. Just what I need,” he snaps, turning away from Heeseung and stomping off into the kitchen before he can see his reaction, aiming to hurt him but not actually wanting to know if he had succeeded or not.

“What did I do?” Heeseung asks, and he sounds offended, so Sunoo assumes that he’s accomplished his goal. Predictably, he doesn’t feel any better.

“Everything,” Sunoo hisses, opening the fridge and pulling out the orange juice, setting it down on the counter beside him so he can point an accusatory finger at him. “I’m going to die alone, and it’s your fault.”

“I feel like that’s harsh,” Heeseung says, getting up from the couch, joining him in the kitchen just to lean against the counter with his arms crossed. Sunoo definitely isn’t staring at his arms, the new definition to his muscles, except he totally is, and he knows Heeseung sees it. “I also feel like that’s my orange juice.”

Sunoo rolls his eyes, picking it up and taking a swig from the carton even though he’d had every intention of getting a glass up until that moment. And then he grimaces as it touches his tongue, recoiling, leaning over the sink and spitting it out with an overexaggerated retch. “Why the fuck is there pulp in this?”

Heeseung just shrugs, but he’s grinning, like he knows exactly why he’d suddenly developed a preference for the worst kind of juice known to man. Sunoo is sure that reason has something to do with spite, which is as irritating as it is relatable. At least they’d both stooped to the same level of pettiness.

And Sunoo shouldn’t be having trouble coming up with a witty retort, a dig at some aspect of Heeseung’s personality to carelessly fling at him with no thought of his ex’s feelings. It should be second nature, because part of him kind of hates Heeseung sometimes, and he normally has no trouble drawing from it.

But he’s tired. And he’s frustrated. And he doesn’t even want to talk to Heeseung right now, let alone start an argument with him.

Heeseung, however, seems determined to do both. “Bad date?”

Sunoo glares at him as he sets down the offending orange juice on the counter, but Heeseung just holds his gaze, steady and irritatingly insistent. “It was fine.”

“Right,” Heeseung says doubtfully. “That’s why you’re back before nine and telling me you’re going to die alone. All the signs of a man in love.”

“Shut up,” Sunoo huffs. “I don’t want to talk to you about this. You’re the reason I can’t find love. No one wants to go home with someone when their ex is sleeping in the next room.”

Heeseung laughs, but Sunoo can tell it’s forced, because he knows him. Two years of loving him made him an expert in all Heeseung-isms, and he barely even has to glance at him to see how tense he is.

“Please,” Heeseung scoffs. “It’s not like you’re going to find love with any of the idiots you’ve been going out with.”

“Well, once upon a time, I found love with you, and you’re an idiot.”

“I’m one in a million,” Heeseung counters, but he’s smiling now, and Sunoo finds himself fighting a smile too, even as he rolls his eyes again. “What was this guy’s deal, then? Was he a professional clown? Did he get out of a tiny car with ten of his closest clown friends and make you a size-accurate balloon animal of his –”

“Heeseung,” Sunoo interrupts, his tone making it clear that he has no energy for entertaining his nonsense. “Stop it. He was normal.”

“Normal?” Heeseung snorts. “If that was true, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Don’t make it sound like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m here for you. I live here.”

“I wasn’t trying to make it sound like anything,” Heeseung insists, but he’s still grinning. “I just want to know his deal.”

“I think he worked in marketing,” Sunoo sighs after a moment. “I don’t know. We didn’t really talk much – he was too preoccupied with the waitress.”

Heeseung goes silent for a few long seconds, and when Sunoo relents and looks at him, his expression is pinched unpleasantly. “What an asshole.”

“Seems like that’s my type,” Sunoo mutters.

“You should raise your standards.”

Sunoo scoffs. “Fuck off.”

“I’m serious,” Heeseung says, and he does sound serious, but even if he was, Sunoo’s not about to take advice from him of all people. “You deserve better than that.”

Sunoo holds his gaze for a while, brows furrowing as he tries to decipher if Heeseung was making fun of him. But Heeseung, once again, seems to be completely serious. For once. “Yeah, well. I’m starting to think I’m self-sabotaging at this point.”

The ridiculousness of this situation isn’t lost on him, and he can think of about a hundred other people he’d rather do a deep dive into his relationship issues with before he’d do it with his ex – even Jungwon, who is still on his shit list for telling Heeseung about his dates in the first place – but as he’s come to learn, he doesn’t have much control over the tumultuous course his life is seemingly taking.

“I didn’t want to be the one to say it,” Heeseung says, and his tone is light with humour, but Sunoo glares at him again anyway.

“How did you do it, then?” Sunoo asks.

“Do what?” Heeseung frowns.

“How’d you find someone to date that’s okay with – this?” He gestures between them frantically, a bit desperately, even though he hates the accidental implication that this was anything other than a financially convenient living situation.

“Date?” Heeseung asks, face wrinkled in confusion. “Who am I dating?”

“I don’t know his name,” Sunoo lies. “Unlike you, I don’t spend my time keeping up with your every move.”

Heeseung doesn’t deny the accusation, in fact, he ignores it completely. “Are you talking about Jake?”

Sunoo shrugs. “Whatever. The gym bimbo.”

“The –” Heeseung sputters, and cuts himself off, scoffing out an incredulous laugh. “I’m not dating anyone, Sun. Jake and I hooked up once, but we’re definitely not dating.”

And those words stun Sunoo, leave him in a state of shock, and he’s completely unable to hide it, unable to act nonchalant about it. “Oh,” he says dumbly, and then takes a few long seconds to recover. “Well, that’s not what Jungwon said. Either way, you’re lucky you’ve gotten any. I genuinely think dick would fix everything wrong in my life right now.”

He’s not sure why he says it, because he really doesn’t want to get into this with Heeseung. It wasn’t even really true – Sunoo was looking for love, after all.

He’s also not sure why he didn’t expect Heeseung would be able to see right through him, but he didn’t, not at all. Sometimes, he forgets how well he once knew him, how well he probably still knows him.

“If that’s all you wanted, like I said, you wouldn’t be home this early,” Heeseung says plainly. “You would have gotten with the amateur magician.”

“I wouldn’t get with an amateur magician no matter how desperate I am,” Sunoo snaps.

“But you are, right?”

“What?”

“Desperate,” Heeseung says.

Sunoo sputters for a moment, then shrugs helplessly. “I want love. I want like, flowers and candlelit dinners and romance. And then, yes, I would like someone to take me home at the end. I don’t think that’s a crime, to want to feel wanted.”

“It’s not,” Heeseung agrees easily.

“And, like, I’m just so in my head about it, like – I feel so shitty about myself because no one’s wanted me in ages, and I want love but I also just want…” Sunoo trails off, glancing at Heeseung quickly, dropping his gaze back to the floor when he finds that Heeseung is already staring at him.

“I could help you out,” Heeseung says, so quietly Sunoo is sure he’d misheard him at first.

And he must have misheard him, because there’s simply no way. “What?” Sunoo asks, looking up and blinking at him a few times, waiting for his serious expression to reveal itself as an illusion and expose the mocking one that was surely just underneath the surface.

“If you want to feel wanted,” he continues, slow and soft, “I can do that. I can want you.”

Sunoo recoils like he’d hit him, his mouth dropping open, brows furrowing in confusion. “Are you – are you making fun of me?”

“No,” Heeseung says simply. “I’m offering.”

“I don’t – you can’t –” Sunoo sputters, unable to get his mind to stop racing long enough to pluck words of reason out of it. “You’re my ex. You can’t be my rebound if you’re my ex,” he finally settles on. He thinks it’s reasonable enough, even though there are about a million other reasons why he can’t let Heeseung want him.

“Says who?”

“No one, I guess, but that’s just – like, by definition –”

“Screw the definition,” Heeseung says dismissively. “You think no one wants you, I’m telling you I do. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.”

For several long seconds, Sunoo just gawks at him, his chest tight with an ache of discomfort and breathlessness. Heeseung wants him. It shouldn’t be a surprise to him, because Heeseung had wanted him for a long time, long before they ever got together, and Sunoo had wanted him right back. He shouldn’t be surprised that that hadn’t fully gone away just because they’d broken up. For Sunoo, at least, it certainly hadn’t.

There were moments, where Sunoo would get home from one of his many shitty dates, and he’d look at the closed door to Heeseung’s bedroom and think – what if I knocked? What if I asked him to take care of me, like he always used to?

And maybe they don’t work as a couple anymore, but they’d always worked when it came to that. They were about as compatible as two people could be, not in every way that mattered, but certainly in that way.

It might be nice. It might be nice, to let Heeseung have him again, to feel wanted long enough to get his confidence back and put himself out there, hopefully with more success once he feels like himself again.

And, really, Sunoo is fully aware that he’s already decided he’s doing this. Maybe he’d known from the moment he walked in, the moment he realized they were going to have to be in the same room for any amount of time, that it would end like this. Maybe it’s always going to end like this, for as long as he and Heeseung exist under the same roof, for as long as they have the same friends and their lives are interwoven in a way that only tangles more as he tries to break free. And maybe that feels a lot like forever, but Sunoo’s not ready to reckon with that yet.

He just wants to feel wanted, desired, seen. He can deal with the rest once he’s had another hit of that particular high, the one he apparently found impossible to say no to.

“Okay,” Sunoo says after what was surely bordering on too long, but Heeseung had stayed through it, steady and waiting and patient.

“Yeah?” Heeseung asks gently.

Sunoo just shrugs, looking at Heeseung a little helplessly. “I can’t stop you from wanting me, Heeseung.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But you would if you could, wouldn’t you?”

“It would make things a lot easier,” Sunoo says, because it’s true, but it’s not the whole truth. It would make things a lot easier, yes, but he knows deep down that he doesn’t want things to be easier, not really.

“Well, you can stop me from doing something about it, at least,” Heeseung tells him.

“I know,” Sunoo sighs. “But I’m not going to.”

He watches as Heeseung swallows, watches the movement under the skin of his throat, watches as he goes almost completely still otherwise. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, every muscle in his body tense, and it’s becoming clear to Sunoo that Heeseung never anticipated him actually saying yes. He wonders, briefly, how he thought this would go, if he thought Sunoo would laugh in his face and turn him away. He likes that version of himself, the one that exists in that imagined version of events, who is clearly more sensible. He likes him better than he likes his real, foolish self at the moment.

But he can’t blame himself for giving in, either. Sunoo’s goal is, and has always been, to find someone to sleep with that loves him. Someone that used to love him should do in a pinch, really.

It doesn’t have to be complicated. Sunoo takes a step closer – and they must have been gravitating towards each other without realizing, because it only takes one step to bring their faces mere inches apart – and presses his lips to Heeseung’s, softly, tentatively, like they hadn’t done this a thousand times before, like they were still learning each other.

It’s easy to forget the intricacies of something he thought he’d never get to experience again. But they’re not learning each other, no matter how much it might feel like they are right now, because when Heeseung finally snaps out of his fugue state and kisses Sunoo back, it feels familiar. It feels, unsettlingly, like home.

Sunoo knew he’d missed this, but he had no idea just how much until now, until it had returned to him. Heeseung’s lips are as chapped as they always are, but they move against his skillfully, because Heeseung was the type of guy that excelled at things even when the odds were stacked against his favour. He’s a good kisser despite the roughness of his lips, and he was a good boyfriend despite all his flaws. There’s a nuance to Heeseung that Sunoo has always appreciated, an ability to be the worst and best thing for him from moment to moment, an ability to make him go from wanting to tear his hair out to wanting to kiss him senseless in an instant.

He knows where he stands on him right now, at least, and it’s very much in the realm of kissing him senseless. Heeseung has, seemingly, met him there.

They were never a perfect couple. But they’re perfect when they’re like this, when Heeseung’s teeth are scraping against Sunoo’s bottom lip, when tongues slip in at the perfect moment in the perfect amount, when hands start wandering and breaths start coming heavy. They were perfect in some other ways, but none that were good enough to go the distance.

It turns heated fast, and he should have seen it coming when Heeseung’s hands travel down his back, only to surprisingly pass right over his ass and grip his thighs instead, using them to lift him as Sunoo yelps in protest. He should have seen it coming, because Heeseung had always been a show off about their difference in height, and he can only assume it’s much worse now that he’s become a certified gym rat.

But it’s instinct to Sunoo to wrap his legs around Heeseung, and to grip his shoulders tightly to keep his balance, and to lean back in and reconnect their lips with only a few seconds lost. And he can feel that Heeseung is stronger now, that he’s more stable as he walks them in the direction of their – his, not theirs, but it seems irrelevant now – bedroom. Sunoo won’t assign more meaning to that than necessary, won’t try to take it as a sign that Heeseung had changed in ways that went beyond surface level. That was a dangerous line of thinking, one that he’ll have to wait until he’s alone to venture into.

He doesn’t put much thought into the fact that Heeseung is carrying him into the room they used to share together, at least not until he realizes that he’s being lowered onto their old bed, which has him going tense all over and wrapping his arms tighter around Heeseung’s shoulders to keep himself from making contact with it, never breaking their kiss and hoping he gets the message. Anywhere else. Anywhere but here.

Heeseung pulls away anyway, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Just –” Sunoo starts, then quickly cuts himself off, realizing he doesn’t know how to explain the sudden lump in his throat without getting a little too real, without ruining the moment. It’d been a good moment, an uncomplicated moment. Sunoo would rather it stay that way. “You should hold me up.”

Heeseung’s face wrinkles even more, and he stares at Sunoo like he can’t even begin to understand the request. “You want that?”

And, really, Sunoo would be more annoyed at his confusion, but he can’t really blame him. When they were together, Sunoo was… in a word, spoiled. He was used to being laid down on a pile of perfectly fluffed pillows, used to being taken apart so thoroughly and lovingly that he never felt a moment’s discomfort. It was how they both preferred it, because Heeseung was very much a giver, and Sunoo was a happy receiver.

It’s not that Sunoo’s preferences had changed. It’s that he can’t have Heeseung be sweet to him right now, can’t have him treat him in the gentle way he used to, can’t feel like he’s precious to him for a single second without this getting even more dangerous than it already was.

“Yeah,” Sunoo breathes. “Like – just hold me up. Unless you don’t think you’re strong enough, of course.”

It’s a very poorly disguised taunt, a way to try to goad Heeseung into giving him exactly what he wants, and he knows Heeseung is seeing right through it. But he also knows that despite his transparency, it’s going to work, because Heeseung loves giving him exactly what he wants.

“I can do it,” Heeseung says, and whether or not he was fooled by Sunoo, he certainly sounds a little offended. It was almost too easy, really. He straightens up again, and adjusts his hold on Sunoo, his fingers digging into his thighs a little harder in a way that made Sunoo a bit dizzy with want.

“Right,” Sunoo says with a teasing grin as Heeseung walks him over to the closest wall and presses him into it, laughing a bit when lips press to his neck in the next instant. He’s not the only one that’s been feeling a little desperate, it seems. “All that time at the gym wasn’t for nothing, was it?”

Heeseung just hums, clearly holding no more interest in continuing the conversation, focusing on pressing hot kisses down the pulse point of his neck, and dragging his teeth along the stretch of skin that they both had already discovered as particularly sensitive. And then Sunoo doesn’t feel much like conversing, either, because a shudder wracks through him and he tips his head back until it thumps against the wall, letting his eyes flutter shut, letting Heeseung have his way with him.

Heeseung seems eager to devour him, nipping at the skin of his neck and collarbones and shoulders so frantically, Sunoo barely has a moment to catch his breath. Heeseung eventually runs out of skin to explore without the silk shirt hanging off of Sunoo getting in the way, and when he lowers him to the ground, Sunoo is about to protest until his hands start nimbly working at the buttons, and he snaps his mouth shut and fights a smile.

“What?” Heeseung asks, breathless.

“Nothing,” Sunoo laughs a bit, then adds anyway, “Have you thought about this a lot?”

It’s the nicest way he can think of to ask, have you been this desperate for me this whole time?

He expects a teasing rebuttal, an eye roll and a dismissal of Sunoo’s accusation that he really had been wanting this, even though he’d admitted it openly only minutes ago. He expects Heeseung to jab back at him, to say something along the lines of maybe, but you clearly have too.

He doesn’t expect Heeseung’s expression to soften a bit, for his mouth to pull up into a half smile as he finishes the last of Sunoo’s buttons, freeing him of his stupid first-date-shirt before removing his own. And Sunoo, normally, would be enthused about roaming the newly exposed skin, but he can’t seem to stop studying Heeseung’s face as he awaits his response.

It shouldn’t matter to him. It shouldn’t matter, the way Heeseung smiles at him, the way he says, softly and honestly, “Of course I have.”

But it matters. It matters a lot, because this wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Sunoo forces a laugh, and forces the air to feel a little lighter as Heeseung’s words settle around them and try to weigh it down. “Get on with it, then,” Sunoo says, laughing again. Heeseung smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes, and Sunoo would feel a bit bad about his dismissal if Heeseung didn’t oblige a moment later, one hand coming up to cup Sunoo’s cheek, using it to pull him into a near-bruising kiss.

It seems he’d gotten the message across. He doesn’t want this to be loving, or tender, or anything that risks his traitorous brain mistaking this for something it isn’t supposed to be.

And then Heeseung is lifting him again, and pressing against him until he can feel him through his pants, until Sunoo has to open his mouth to let out a small whine, quickly swallowed up by Heeseung’s unrelenting lips against his own. Everything about Heeseung is unrelenting right now, just bordering on overwhelming in a way Sunoo loves. His tongue licking into his mouth, his hands gripping his thighs so tight that bruises will surely form, the way he grinds against Sunoo to draw more whines from him. It’s enough to make Sunoo feel like he’s drowning, enough to make his head go blissfully quiet for once, and he can’t get enough.

They writhe against each other in desperation that would only be embarrassing if they weren’t both feeling it equally, if they weren’t both so lost in it. The relief it provides isn’t much, but it’s something, and Sunoo knows that if it continues, this will be over quickly. And really, that should be fine with him, but for some reason he wants to drag it out, or at least get to the good part and then drag that out. Maybe because he knows this is the last time, the last indulgence, and maybe he’s not as ready for that as he thought he was.

Heeseung must be on the same page as him, because he pulls away and flits his gaze around Sunoo’s face for a few long seconds, his expression tinged with an unreadable emotion. “Not that I can’t hold you up,” Heeseung starts warily, “But I only have two hands. I’ll have to put you down to stretch you out. If – if you want to go that far, I mean, I’m not expecting –”

Sunoo shushes him. And then he goes completely silent, taking a few deep breaths through his nose, trying to quell the panic that was suddenly stirring in his gut, replacing the pleasant heat that had been gathering there for the last few minutes.

He doesn’t want Heeseung to fuck him on his bed, because it used to be their bed, and it’s too familiar, too intimate. Sunoo already knows the smells that will surround him if his head hits the pillow, already knows what they’ll take him back to – two years of late nights and slow mornings and falling into bed together more times than he can possibly count – and he doesn’t want to be taken there. He can’t be taken there, not without losing a hold of the iron grip he’d convinced himself he had on the situation, but probably never had to begin with.

But – Sunoo is used to being spoiled. And it might be nice, and it doesn’t have to mean anything, because he’s not going to let it mean anything.

He nods. Heeseung still doesn’t move, staring at him in concern, likely waiting to hear words of confirmation. Sunoo tilts his head back and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, taking another few seconds before he relents and lets out a mournful sigh.

“Okay, fine. But fix the duvet first,” he orders him. “I know you haven’t washed your sheets since I stopped sleeping in here.”

“That’s not true,” Heeseung mutters, lowering Sunoo back to the ground again, shaking his arms around in a way that told Sunoo he was definitely lying about being able to hold him up any longer. He doesn’t argue, though, just takes a moment to tug the corners of his bunched up duvet until the bed is covered sufficiently, rearranging his pillows to the middle of the mattress to create the extra cushioning that Sunoo was used to. His chest aches a bit watching him do it, but he ignores it in favour of stepping closer, putting a hand on Heeseung’s shoulder to get his attention, pulling him back in for a kiss.

Sunoo knows right away that something has already shifted, that he’d made a horrible mistake, but it’s too late. Heeseung is kissing him, slow and soft, and he’s backing him into the mattress, and when Sunoo lets himself flop down onto his mound of pillows, Heeseung stares down at him with unbridled emotion in his eyes, and even reaches down to adjust the pillow under his hips to make sure he was comfortable enough.

It’s considerate. It’s sweet. It’s all the things Sunoo needs him to not be right now, because the ache in his chest is starting to feel a lot like affection, and he can’t have that.

“It’s been a while,” Sunoo tells him as he retrieves a condom and a bottle of lube – it’s the same one they used to use, and some ugly part of him bitterly wonders if he had used it when he and Jake hooked up – because he feels like he has to say something, the silence around them once again getting too heavy for his liking.

“I’ll take my time,” Heeseung assures him, and Sunoo knows he will. He always takes his time, even when Sunoo wants him to hurry through it.

When he’d first started going on his fruitless, disappointing dates, he would take his time in the shower beforehand, stretching himself out and making sure he was prepared just in case. This time, though, he’d convinced himself before he’d even met the guy that it wasn’t going to end anywhere good, and he’d skipped his usual extensive prep. He hadn’t known, although maybe he should have, that it would end here.

He has some regrets.

Actually, he has many regrets, because when Heeseung kneels between his legs and peels his pants off, Sunoo suddenly remembers the pair of underwear he’d chosen when getting dressed without much thought.

Okay, so he hadn’t prepped for his date, but he had worn those. They were for him, anyway. He needed the confidence boost, and they weren’t meant to be seen by any eyes other than his own. And Heeseung’s, an irritating voice that sounds awfully a lot like Jungwon adds, and Sunoo imagines squashing the small Jungwon in his brain like a bug.

Really, as far as women’s underwear goes, he could have chosen a pair much more revealing, much more scandalous. He certainly owned pairs that matched that description, but these ones were his favourite. He likes the way the soft lace feels on his skin, and he likes the way they hug his hips and his ass, and he knows he’s not the only one.

It’s not a new sight for Heeseung, because he’d worn them for him countless times when they were still together, but he stares at him like it is regardless, his features morphed into an expression of pure awe.

The Heeseung he knew, his Heeseung, would have made some comment about how Sunoo had worn them for someone else to take off. And he would have been joking, but Sunoo would have been hurt anyway, and they would have argued in circles about it until Heeseung stomped off or Sunoo started crying, or both.

But Heeseung just reaches down, smoothing his hands down Sunoo’s sides, fingers dancing across the lace when he reaches it, and he smiles. “You’re so beautiful.”

Sunoo’s breath catches in his throat, and he wishes he could look away from Heeseung, because he doesn’t want him to see how affected the words have left him, but he can’t. He just can’t.

Heeseung breaks eye contact first – thank god, because Sunoo was actually starting to feel tears prick his eyes, and that couldn’t happen – but his relief is short lived, because he ducks his head down and presses a soft peck to Sunoo’s jaw, then another just below it, then on his collarbone, and a few on his chest, and his pulse is racing, and he knows Heeseung can feel it. He litters kisses over almost every inch of skin available to him, or at least that’s what Sunoo feels like he’s doing, because he’s warm all over and his temperature is skyrocketing more and more with every kiss.

“Heeseung,” Sunoo eventually sighs, forcing annoyance into his tone even though he wasn’t really feeling it.

“Mm?” Heeseung hums.

“You’re getting distracted.”

“I’m totally on task,” Heeseung argues, lifting his head from where he’d been an inch away from pressing a kiss to his hip bone, another place Sunoo was particularly sensitive, which he knew Heeseung was well aware of. “You wanted me to make you feel wanted.”

Sunoo certainly does. Unsettlingly so, and he kind of needs it to stop now, because it’s starting to border on something else, something he knows he can’t handle.

“You can do that by getting on with it already,” Sunoo snaps, but there’s no real heat behind it, not like there would have been an hour ago. Something had certainly shifted, and it had shifted into something softer, something that might be a little stronger than his anger that he once thought was all-consuming.

Heeseung just laughs, and Sunoo feels it next to the ache in his chest, like the warmth had spread there, too. This is bad. He knows it’s bad, but he also knows he’s not going to be able to back out now.

He’s always been a little weak when it comes to Heeseung, and it was okay, because Heeseung was just as weak when it comes to him. He knows that’s still the case, too, because his ex doesn’t even try to tease him further, just presses that kiss to his hip bone – and Sunoo doesn’t even try to fight his shudder this time, which is equally as telling – and slicks up two of his fingers, taking the time to warm the sticky substance as he uses his free hand to pull his underwear to the side.

And Sunoo would tease him about not taking them off, but he can’t get the words out, because Heeseung’s index finger is pressing hesitantly to his entrance, and when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a gasp, a sharp intake of breath that gives away just how nervous he is. He hates the sound, but it makes Heeseung smile again.

“Good?” He asks, a bit smug.

“Just get on with –”

Heeseung pushes his finger in, and Sunoo’s breath once again catches in his throat, his head tipping back and his eyes drifting up to the ceiling, because he can’t watch Heeseung do this. He always makes this focused expression that Sunoo finds irritatingly adorable, and his ears always tinge red, and Sunoo just doesn’t need to see that right now. It’ll only make this whole disaster impossibly worse.

So he just focuses his attention on the feeling, on the slight stretch that comes with Heeseung’s finger slowly dragging in and out of him, the way he can reach spots that Sunoo can’t reach himself, having him panting out soft noises before he’s really done anything.

“You can do two,” Sunoo huffs, and Heeseung obliges without a word, which he’s grateful for.

Heeseung knows him, after all. They’d done this so many times, he knows that Heeseung would have been able to tell that he was ready for another finger, even if he hadn’t told him. It’s been three months, but it felt like they hadn’t missed a beat, like nothing had changed at all between them, even though everything had.

Nothing had changed, everything had changed, so now they found themselves somewhere in the middle, and this was no different. It felt simultaneously new and familiar, comfortable and terrifying.

Heeseung really does take his time stretching him out, and Sunoo knows he needs to be thorough about it, because otherwise it would hurt, but he’s finding himself more and more eager to get Heeseung’s cock inside of him with every passing moment. It’d been so long, and Sunoo’s more than a little pent up, a little desperate.

At least, not until Heeseung gets up to three fingers, and then takes several minutes longer than necessary stretching him, and Sunoo knows he’s trying to get him to say it, to beg. Sunoo comes by his stubbornness naturally, even prides in it most of the time. Right now, though, he thinks he probably dropped it somewhere in the kitchen next to his dignity the moment he’d let Heeseung whisk him away.

“I’m ready,” Sunoo breathes, and when he doesn’t get a response, he finally looks at Heeseung, something like an electric current shooting up his spine when their eyes meet.

“Are you?” Heeseung asks. “I don’t know. It’s been so long, I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s teasing him again, and Sunoo knows it, but for some reason he can’t think of a single biting remark to meet him with.

“Please,” he whines, and for the first time he’s grateful Heeseung had insisted on laying him down, because if he was still standing, he likely would have stomped his foot like a petulant child as he said it. “I’m ready, Heeseung, please –”

And Heeseung always liked to tease him, but Sunoo knows there’s a stronger urge of his, one that always wins in the end – he’ll always give Sunoo what he wants.

He pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the duvet (Sunoo opens his mouth to protest, but Heeseung assures him before he can that he’ll wash his bedding tomorrow), and then he’s standing long enough to rid himself of his sweatpants and roll on a condom before slicking himself up, and Sunoo is sure his gaze turns hungry as he takes in the view. He’s not much of a size queen – no matter what Jungwon and Sunghoon have to say that suggests otherwise – but he’s always been a little bit obsessed with Heeseung’s dick.

It’s not even about how big it is, although it is impressive in that regard, it’s about the way he’d always felt like he was made to take it, the way it stretches him out and makes him feel full without causing him any actual discomfort when he was prepped well.

He knows he is this time, but part of him hopes it does hurt, just a little, enough to snap him out of this lust-fueled daze and bring him back down to Earth, to keep him from getting caught up in the pleasure and forgetting that this was a one time thing, something he shouldn’t get used to again.

But, of course – Heeseung fits perfectly inside of him. He lines up and pushes in slowly, so slowly, and Sunoo grips the sheets, hoping that will be enough to ground him instead. It isn’t. Maybe it’s the feeling of finally being full again, or the cloud-like pillows beneath him, but whatever it is, Sunoo kind of feels like he’s floating. He’s untethered save for where Heeseung is buried to the hilt inside of him, giving him time to adjust, and Sunoo feels himself gradually coming back to his body as Heeseung’s hands wander across his skin. He hooks his fingers in the lace waistband of his underwear where it rests on his hips and just rubs circles into the skin there, occasionally palming at his cock as Sunoo bites down on his lip to keep himself from audibly reacting to the faint friction of the material rubbing against him.

It’s too much, far too much, but it’s also not nearly enough.

“Move, please,” Sunoo demands, but it comes out meeker than he means it to, more of a whimper than a sentence.

Still, Heeseung hears it, and understands, and then he’s pulling out until only the tip remains inside of Sunoo. When he thrusts back in, Sunoo is helpless to stop the breathy noise that leaves his already-parted lips, straining his neck to bury his face in the pillow beneath him.

Heeseung must see this as an opportunity, because as his thrusts pick up speed slowly but surely, he leans forward until he’s hovering over Sunoo, until his lips are pressed against his neck, until he has free reign to bite and suck and lick at the skin there.

Sunoo’s first instinct is to tell him to stop, because he shouldn’t have any marks on him, shouldn’t have anything to tie him to this once it’s over. But once again, he can’t get the words out, can’t do anything but moan and sigh and squirm underneath of him. Part of him wants the marks, wants someone to see them and perceive him as someone that is wanted. Another, more sinister part of him wants no one to see them but Heeseung, because the marks belong to him, because Sunoo might still belong to him, although that wasn’t something he enjoyed admitting to himself.

Maybe part of him will always belong to Heeseung, his first love, his first real heartbreak. It doesn’t mean he can’t move on, but it does mean he’ll have to leave that part of himself behind, if he wants to. He’s not sure he does, because he’s grown attached to it.

But if part of Sunoo belongs to Heeseung, then the opposite is also true – Sunoo carries around a little piece of Heeseung’s heart, and he feels the weight of it, and he finds himself treating it with care even in the moments where he was sure he hated him. Maybe that’s why they were still missing each other, even though they’d been broken up for months and never really stopped seeing each other, or at least feeling each other’s presence through the wall that connects their bedrooms. Maybe they missed those parts of themselves.

Or maybe they just missed this, the steady rhythm of skin slapping against skin, the way their mouths find each other with no thought as soon as Heeseung lifts his from Sunoo’s neck, the way they still fit together, the way they’ll probably always fit together. Maybe they missed when all of them belonged to someone, when they didn’t have to think about first dates and gym hookups and the terrifying thought that they might have already had their one great love, and that they may have lost it for no real good reason.

They had felt like good reasons, at the time. He’s suddenly not so sure anymore.

Sunoo is struck with the sudden realization that, even if they were good reasons, he’s not sure he ever truly believed them. He thinks he’d gone into that conversation with the intention of working things out, but when Heeseung did nothing more than nod along and then ask, quietly, is this your way of ending things, then? He’d been so taken aback, so hurt by his acceptance of the situation, that he’d thought, I guess it is. And then he’d said it, and Heeseung hadn’t said anything else, save for a soft okay, Sunoo.

He would have liked a little bit of a fight. But Heeseung had never been much of a fighter, at least, not until now.

Because now, Heeseung is fucking into him like he’s fighting for something, hitting the spot where Sunoo needs him most with ease, reaching in between them and dipping his fingers under Sunoo’s underwear and wrapping his hand around his cock, pumping up and down the length with just the right amount of pressure to have heat turning in Sunoo’s gut, to have him feeling pulled taut and on the verge of snapping. It feels like he’s solely focused on Sunoo, like he’s trying to prove himself, like he’s saying I can do this, I can be what you need.

And Sunoo’s not convinced, but as Heeseung’s thrusts turn a little more impassioned, a little faster and a little harder without Sunoo even needing to request it, he thinks it probably wouldn’t take much more to convince him. He thinks the right words at the right time might just do it, and that thought has him licking into Heeseung’s mouth fervently, because if he keeps Heeseung’s mouth occupied, he won’t be able to say the words, and Sunoo will never have to know what happens if he is convinced.

Heeseung pulls away anyway, until their lips are just barely brushing against each other with every thrust. “You feel so good,” he mutters. “You always feel so good, baby.”

Sunoo shivers, and lets out a hot puff of air that fans across Heeseung’s cheeks, and flutters his eyes shut, both having an instant reaction to the pet name and bracing himself for worse.

“Like you were made for me,” Heeseung continues, echoing Sunoo’s thoughts from earlier. “I missed you. Fuck, I missed you so much.”

And when Sunoo whimpers, and his lip quivers, the minute movement is apparently enough to dislodge the tears that had been gathering along his lash line without his knowledge or consent, rolling down his cheeks and pooling in the crevices of his nose, along the cupid’s bow of his lips. He knows Heeseung can taste the tears when he presses a few sweet, chaste kisses just beside Sunoo’s open mouth, and he hopes he won’t be so cruel as to point them out. Sunoo’s not sure he could take the humiliation.

But he should know better than to think Heeseung would ever ignore his tears, despite being so well-acquainted with Sunoo’s crybaby ways at this point.

“It’s okay,” Heeseung tells him gently, moving to press kisses to his cheeks where the tears are still steadily coming. “You’re okay. You’re perfect. I’ve got you.”

The worst part, really, is that Sunoo has always known that Heeseung has him. The reassurance of it feels almost like a threat – no, that’s not right. It feels like a promise, because a threat wouldn’t make the warmth in his chest spread all the way to the tips of his fingers, wouldn’t make him feel like he’d just gotten into a warm bath that someone else had drawn for him and adjusted to the perfect temperature, safe and clean and cared for and loved.

This was supposed to make him feel wanted, and he does, but he also feels all of those other things, and more. And this wasn’t how this was supposed to go, but Sunoo knows deep down that it was always going to go this way.

With him and Heeseung, he’s not sure there is any other way.

“I’ve got you,” Heeseung repeats, and it must be the softness of his words, or the way his hand is still stroking up and down his length skillfully, or the way that he’s still thrusting into him with practiced precision and ease, that does it in the end. When the heat becomes unbearable, when the cord inside him feels so close to snapping, Heeseung knows, because he whispers one last reassurance that Sunoo doesn’t even catch – he just knows that the words aren’t I love you, but that his foolish brain chooses to hear that anyway in his tone, in the way he presses a kiss to his temple – before Sunoo is crying out, back arching off the bed, fists twisting in the sheets, throwing his head back in a way that would have hurt if not for the pillow keeping him from feeling anything other than pure, addictive pleasure.

Heeseung carries him through it, his thrusts slowing but not stopping, his hand continuing its ministrations on his cock as Sunoo shakes and thrashes and ruins the pretty lace of his underwear. He knows that Sunoo likes to feel a bit overstimulated, and he knows exactly when to stop touching him, when his whines become a little too pitchy, when he shudders hard enough to have his teeth clacking together.

Heeseung knows him, even though it’s been months. Heeseung knows him just like he’s always known him, and Sunoo knows him in turn, so even though he hasn’t fully come down yet, he grabs Heeseung’s face and pulls him into a messy kiss, because he knows that’s the best way to get him to the edge of release.

Sure enough, it’s that intimate act that does it in the end – Heeseung groans into Sunoo’s mouth, and the hand that had been jerking Sunoo off moves to squeeze at his hip again until he lets out a soft whine of his own. When they’d been together, they’d given up on condoms altogether, and Sunoo knows it was smart to use one this time, but he almost wishes they’d been irresponsible so he could really feel it.

After all, this was his one last time. He wanted to make the most of it, and he desperately hoped he had, that he wouldn’t ever have to go back for more, because he knew his heart couldn’t take it.

Really, he’s not sure his heart will take this well, anyway. He can already feel it becoming hopeful, attached, comfortable – all the things it shouldn’t be, when Heeseung is looking down at him with a fond smile on his face, brushing the hair sticking to Sunoo’s forehead away and tucking it behind his ear even though they both know it’s too short now to stay. He’d been cutting it regularly since their breakup, with the hope that one day, all his skin cells would replace and his hair would grow out and there wouldn’t be a single part of him that remembered what it felt like to be touched by Heeseung.

But he’d just gotten a refresher, and Sunoo knew at once that it was never going to be that easy. He knows that this time, the muscle memory he’d tried to rid himself of will go even deeper than that, that Heeseung had just made it clear that he’d carved his name into Sunoo’s bones, irreversibly and irrevocably.

There would be no moving on, not really. This had, at least, illuminated him to that sobering fact, only he has no clue what he’s supposed to do with it. With any of it, really.

They must drift off to sleep at some point, even though Sunoo had every intention of leaving, because he blinks his eyes open to find the alarm clock on Heeseung’s bedside table telling him that it was after midnight.

He untangles himself from Heeseung’s embrace, which he doesn’t remember getting wrapped up in, and grabs the first piece of discarded clothing he can find to cover himself. It ends up being Heeseung’s t-shirt, which makes him feel more content than it probably should as he pulls it over his head and relishes in the way it swallows him up in the oversized fabric. And then he slips quietly out to the kitchen, tiptoeing so as not to alert Heeseung of his exit. His mouth is uncomfortably dry, and his chest is uncomfortably tight, and as he lets the tap run until it was cold enough and fills up a cup, he tries to make sense of the emotions currently taking turns grabbing hold of his brain and shaking it around until everything is blurry and unclear.

And before he even gets a chance to figure it out, the door to Heeseung’s bedroom clicks open again, and he steps out, looking at Sunoo like he was approaching a wounded animal.

There are about a million things Sunoo wants to ask Heeseung right now. Tens of millions.

He kind of wants to yell at him, to throw his cup at his head and curse him out, to make him aware of just how badly he’d ruined everything for Sunoo. Because really, the only thing worse than trying to move on from the ex he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with was trying to move on from the ex that he just realized he’s still in love with.

He’s reached a whole new level of pathetic, and he wants to blame Heeseung, but he knows he can only point the finger at himself. He should have known better.

So he doesn’t scream, doesn’t cry, doesn’t tell Heeseung exactly what he thinks about his stupid – and successful – plan to make Sunoo feel wanted again. Instead, he starts with, “So, why did Jungwon think you were dating Jake?”

Heeseung stares at him for a few long moments. Sunoo prays that he’ll say, because I’m probably going to be, soon, or because I lied earlier and we already are. Either one would make it easier to hate him, easier to let go of this.

But Heeseung just shrugs. “I mean, I may have told him that so he’d stop bothering me.”

“Oh. What was he bothering you about?” He asks, even though he gets the feeling that he really doesn’t want to know.

“You,” Heeseung says simply. “He thinks we should get back together.”

“Does he?” Sunoo aims for casual, but he can hear the bitterness seeping into his voice. “And you found that so irritating you had to lie to get him to stop?”

“No,” Heeseung sighs. “I agree with him. But I know that’s not what you want, so I told him to stop trying.”

“Right,” Sunoo mutters, because that is what he wants. Really, it is, no matter what his feelings towards him might be now. He’s just a little surprised at the fact that Heeseung is admitting that they weren’t on the same page about the breakup, despite his long-held belief that they were. After all, Heeseung, when Sunoo had ended things, had barely said a word, just kept his eyes fixed on the floor and nodded along as Sunoo explained all the reasons why it wasn’t working anymore.

They were reasons he could barely recall, now. But he does remember them being good ones, valid ones. Lack of communication, probably. Lack of emotional maturity. The sex had been good right up until the end but it had been the only thing that was good, the only thing that didn’t cause him stress. He loved Heeseung, and probably still does, but it hadn’t been enough to make it work, no matter how badly he’d wanted it to.

But – Heeseung had communicated with him earlier, and he’s doing it again now. The way he’d done it was maybe a little immature, but in a way that was sort of funny, almost endearing, although Sunoo quickly shoves that thought out of his mind before it can plant itself there. He wasn’t even going to entertain the idea that Heeseung really had changed in their time spent not talking, even though he’d experienced it first hand mere hours ago, because it just made him… sad, kind of. He doesn’t like the idea that Heeseung had done any sort of personal growth, no matter how miniscule, without Sunoo there to see it happen.

It’s not the first time that Sunoo had questioned if he’d made the right decision, not even close, but it was definitely the most debilitating, the most upsetting.

Maybe – maybe, they could have talked it out. Maybe it didn’t have to turn out the way it did.

“Hey,” Heeseung says suddenly, but softly, stepping closer to Sunoo and putting a hand on his arm, warm and burning straight through to his skin. Part of him wants to flinch away, part of him wants to lean into it. He lands somewhere in the middle and stays completely still, frozen, trapped. It’s ridiculous, how the touch affects him this much, after everything they just did. “You okay? You look a little out of it.”

“Of course I’m a little out of it,” Sunoo says. “Are you saying you want to get back together?”

Heeseung stares at him for a few long seconds, dropping his hand back to his side. Sunoo misses the touch instantly. “Is that what I said?”

“You said – you said Jungwon thinks we should get back together, and you agree.”

“Oh,” Heeseung says. “Yeah, of course I agree.”

“You –” Sunoo cuts off, staring at him incredulously. “Why wouldn’t you say anything? Why wouldn’t you try to stop me from breaking up with you?” He asks, even though he already knows the answer, or at least suspects it.

Heeseung always gives him what he wants. He takes care of him. If he thought what Sunoo wanted was to break up – which, at one point, it was – he would likely have found himself helpless to do anything but go along with it.

Sunoo ended things. Sunoo had decided they wouldn’t move out until their lease was up. Sunoo had decided they would no longer communicate. But Heeseung had gone along with it, and whether or not his intentions were good, Sunoo couldn’t get over the bitter taste that his ambivalence had left on his tongue. Regardless of whether or not Heeseung had wanted the breakup, he hadn’t fought for them. Sunoo’s rediscovered feelings for him wouldn’t be enough to change any of that.

“Could I have stopped you?” Heeseung asks easily. “Once you have your mind made up on something, it’s pretty hard to get you to change it.”

“But you didn’t even try,” Sunoo says. “Just like all the other guys haven’t even tried to look past the fact that I live with my ex. Am I really that – that easy to toss aside?”

“Nothing about this has been easy,” Heeseung says, voice eerily quiet.

“Well, you haven’t really made that clear to me,” Sunoo says. “I thought – you seem fine.”

“So do you,” Heeseung counters.

“Heeseung,” Sunoo starts dryly. “The reason I play my music so loud when I shower at night is so I can cry without you hearing.”

He’s not sure why he says it, not sure if it’s even helpful, if it will get them anywhere productive. Maybe he wants to hurt Heeseung, but that doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s simpler – maybe he just wants Heeseung to know that he’s hurting, because he hadn’t ever expressed it to him, hadn’t let him see it. He wasn’t entirely sure that he would care, if he did let it show.

He seems to care now. His face twists in an emotion Sunoo doesn’t see on him often – something like guilt mixed with a deep, all-encompassing sadness – but only for a moment, and then he drops his gaze to the floor between them.

“And I miss you,” Sunoo says, even though he hadn’t planned on speaking again. “I miss talking to you. And I hate these stupid notes,” he says, setting down his cup of water and moving over to the fridge, taking one off of the fridge door that he’d been too distracted to notice earlier.

“Yeah, about that –” Heeseung starts, and he’s finally saying something, but Sunoo isn’t hearing it. He isn’t hearing anything, because his ears are suddenly ringing, like he has to block out all outside noise to be able to focus on deciphering the messy handwriting scrawled across the sticky note with chickens along the border of it. Or, no, it wasn’t the handwriting he was having trouble understanding, but the words themselves.

They were the last words he expected to read.

I still love you.

He blinks, waiting for the letters to disappear, to change their shape and spell out gotcha! or something equally as cruel. They never do. He stares at them, and they stare back, and then he lifts his head and stares at Heeseung, but he keeps his eyes on the floor.

“I don’t…” Sunoo manages, trailing off when his lungs suddenly feel absent of oxygen.

“Like I said,” Heeseung starts, finally meeting Sunoo’s eyes. “You were home earlier than I thought you would be.”

“What? What does that –” he cuts off, shaking his head. “Were you going to get rid of this before I came back?”

Heeseung shrugs.

“Do you do this often?”

Another shrug.

“Heeseung, of all the ridiculous ways you could have gone about this, this is the worst. The absolute worst.”

Heeseung nods in agreement. “Are you angry?”

“Of course I’m angry. I’m furious.”

He’s sure that he sounds angry, but Heeseung doesn’t look worried about it, his face remaining neutral if not a little amused. And that just makes anger flare inside of Sunoo even more, but it also makes something else settle over his skin and in his gut, something warm, something he hasn’t felt in a while – three months, to be exact. Something like affection, something like hope, something like love, which he already knew was there, but this time it’s a different sort of love. The requited kind, the kind Sunoo had been chasing fruitlessly this whole time, not knowing that all he had to do to find it was go home.

Sunoo drops the note, and it flutters to the ground as he takes two steps closer to Heeseung, close enough that if he lifted his hand, it would brush against his. “But – but if you’re being serious, I could… I could get over it.”

“I’m being serious,” Heeseung says quietly.

Sunoo swallows back all the angry words that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue, because they weren’t the ones he wanted to come out. A lot of his angriest words that he’d flung at Heeseung had been ones he hadn’t even tried to hold back, ones he’d come to regret as soon as they left his lips. “Okay,” Sunoo says. “Alright. I’m – I’m tired of being angry at you, anyways. You make it difficult.”

Heeseung smiles, his lips quirking into the boyish grin that still makes Sunoo’s heart skip a beat every time. “Really? It comes to you so naturally, though.”

“No,” Sunoo shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t. The other thing does, though,” he admits, soft and hesitant, letting the words take their shape – however muddled and confusing the shape may be – and hoping Heeseung will understand them.

Heeseung’s smile softens. “Me too,” he tells him. “We probably shouldn’t waste it, right?”

Sunoo nods, biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself from smiling too wide, from wearing his heart on his sleeve like he always does. “Not any more than we already have, I guess. We can… we can work on it.”

Heeseung nods too. “I’d like that. How about we work on it over dinner? Are you free tomorrow?”

“God no,” Sunoo groans. “No more first dates. Never again.”

“Oh, really? Never?” Heeseung asks, his smile turning into a teasing smirk.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Sunoo says. “You’ll still have to win me back, but no dinners.”

“That’s okay. We’ll stay home,” he says easily, and Sunoo’s mind starts a chorus of home, home, home that doesn’t sound nearly as unpleasant as it used to. “We’ll order in. I’ll take you to go.”

Sunoo rolls his eyes, but he knows there won’t be any real annoyance in it, because he knows he’s going to completely fail at fighting his smile. “That was so bad, you almost just made me change my mind.”

“But you didn’t, right?”

Sunoo finally gives in, and beams at him, going up on his tiptoes and leaning in until their foreheads press together, until their noses brush, until he can look deeply into Heeseung’s eyes and find only honesty there, only a few flickering flames of genuine hope that likely should have been smothered a long time ago. Sunoo is glad they didn’t extinguish, glad that he has another chance to kindle their relationship until they, hopefully, burn bright again someday. He wants a steady flame, one that keeps you warm through the night, one that you can look away from and trust that it won’t dim. He hopes that’s the kind of flame that’s igniting between them now.

But he supposes there’s only one way to find out.

“No, I guess I didn’t.”