Work Text:
∞
“I don’t know what you want from me.” Myungsoo muttered, standing back from his crouch as Laika continued to look at him in askance from her cozy nest by the kitchen counter.
It was roughly a quarter past nine, a Sunday. There was a pervasive serenity to the silence of the apartment, even beyond the window panes — the city streets almost devoid of cars or people. It was a wonderful morning, punctuated by the occasional chirp of the birds lodged under the roof awnings, soft croons from his laptop (he’s not familiar with the singer, probably someone Howon likes to listen to).
He walks back to the sink, setting down the bowl of meat and scraping them back into a plastic container. From her little home, Laika barked again.
“What?” Myungsoo asked, a bit off-handed, setting the newly-washed bowl on tray next to the sink to dry. He wiped his hands on the edge of his shirt. It looks ratty now, smeared in charcoal and paint and, now, dishwater. He’ll probably take a shower in a bit.
Laika barked again.
“Honestly, what do you want? You’re not hungry, you don’t want to play.” Myungsoo complained, a bit of a pout on his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. Laika barked again, her big brown eyes trained on him. A pristine, dark-furred tail wagged in the air for a moment, before settling back down. Laika rested her head on her paws. She resumed staring at Myungsoo — and was that a bit of her tongue out?
Myungsoo shakes his head, muttering to himself about pesky dogs with big brown eyes. He crosses the floor and sits back down on the chair, pulling his laptop closer to him. Beside it, his cup of coffee had grown a bit cold — he eyed the ceramic mug, plain white, a grey lemniscate on one side, the word “WOOLLIM” under it in minimalistic font. A giveaway, from one of Sunggyu’s company’s outings.
He grabs the cup for a sip, rests it back on the post-it note he used as a coaster. He eyes the writing on it, and smiles. A mishmash of writing, both completely different from one another and Myungsoo takes a moment to read the words again and resumes to continuing on his manuscript. Down by the kitchen counter, Laika rolled over to her back, her floppy ears fanned out, mouth open and tongue lolling out: asleep.
When nine-thirty came, he paused from his writing and listened to the sounds of the apartment. It was still quiet, save for the occasional car passing by. Myungsoo stood back up, opening a cupboard and grabbing a tumbler, other hand re-heating the coffee on the machine. Once it simmered to a low boil, Myungsoo poured the liquid into the tumbler, walking a bit to reach the fridge and grabbing the box of fresh milk. He poured a bit along, counting down in his head. A few months ago, he would have needed to measure it by the spoon but after a few mix-ups, he had gotten the hang of it. He stirred the coffee for a bit, a bit fascinated at how the dark and light colours coalesced into a warm, creamy beige one. Sealing the canister shut, Myungsoo sets it upon the desk and raises a hand and presses the open button the microwave, the door popping open. He grabs the plate inside and sets it on the counter: nothing spectacular about it, just toast and a sunny-side up egg on top of it. Laika peeked one eye open to look at him before falling back to sleep.
And like clockwork, by the time Myungsoo had sat back on the kitchen table, the tell-tale sound of Howon coming out of their bedroom reached his ears. The older man was already dressed for work, and although still looking half-asleep, he does sort of groan a greeting, a wet peck on Myungsoo’s cheek and a squeeze on his shoulder.
“You’ll be out by seven, right?” Myungsoo asked, resuming his typing but pausing a bit just to glance at Howon. His boyfriend’s hair was still wet, strands clinging to his forehead as he took a big bite out of the toast. He says something unintelligible through the food but Myungsoo’s used to this enough to know what it meant.
“Great,” he responded, “Sunggyu wants to eat out for dinner. We’ll pick you up from the café, then?”
Howon nods his acquiescence before setting the now-empty plate on the sink. He grabs the tumbler, sips a bit. He looks more awake now. “Yes, please. Sungjong is out today, so it’s just me and Dongwoo manning the counter. It’s gonna be a very long day.”
“You’ll live,” Myungsoo answered back as Howon walked over to Laika and bent down, ruffling her fur. Laika whined a bit before rolling over and pawing at Howon’s shoe. His boyfriend chuckles a bit, promises to play with her later.
“Anyway, I have to go now.” Howon announces, and Myungsoo already knows it even in his sleep. He nods, angles a smile at his boyfriend, who leans down and gives him a quick kiss. He tastes coffee on his lips and he slaps Howon’s side.
“Go, go, we’ll see you later. Say hi to Dongwoo and Sungyeol for me.”
Howon grins, “bye, babe.”
And then, Howon is out the door, and Myungsoo looks as the lock clicks and he hears the faint sound of Howon walking down the hall recede into silence. He wants to run to the window and press his face against the glass, knowing he’ll see Howon down the street, crossing four blocks to get to the café, but he resists. It’s bad enough he already missed Sunggyu when the older man went out to work hours ago, add Howon to the list and Myungsoo would be a pouting mess by the end of the day.
But he shakes his head and settles on finishing work today. He’ll have their dinner date later, and as if agreeing with him, Laika barks a bit and Myungsoo throws a smile at her.
He grabs his mug again and spies the handwriting from so many days before.
Your portfolio is in the mail. I’ll see u later, love – S
Might be closing late at the shop, big night. Love u – H
He didn’t know when his life had become this…this domestic, but honestly, Myungsoo doesn’t have a problem with it. Not a single bit.
∞
Myungsoo is a writer. Not a novelist, or an up-and-coming author or any of that kind. He’s actually a screenwriter; he writes dialogues and scenarios, writes flows and progressions; he works with directors and producers, filling in scenarios for the occasional TV show, but his works mostly go for movies. Not award-winning movies, but films that get recognition. He has a careful niche in the underground scene of the film industry, and he really likes working with people around his age, people with fresh ideas that are not yet welcome by the mainstream film scene — he finds it exciting, finds that his works get the love and recognition he wants instead of resorting to generic, cookie-cut formulas.
His boyfriend, Sunggyu, was very supportive of his goals although he wasn’t that informed, or drawn into the creative side of the entertainment industry. Sunggyu is more corporate, business-like. He’s a Human Resource officer in a business-process outsourcing company, and he eats contracts and disciplinary conferences for breakfast and dinner, working a standard nine-to-six shift, Mondays to Fridays. Nevertheless, he was supportive of Myungsoo’s less-than-routine passion and the occasional off days where Myungsoo has nothing to do as his contacts don’t have work for him.
Back when he was first starting out in his career, these off-days would get to him. He’d be at home, in the apartment, Sunggyu out at work, and he would just feel so bored and restless. Sometimes, he’d spend the entire day cleaning everything — even if he already did so the day prior; sometimes, he’d end up binge-watching food network specials, or more often than not, the cartoon network channels. He’d spend an hour lying down on the couch, staring at the ceiling, then he’d stand and walk over to Laika and start poking her (“Do something fun,” he’d mutter as Laika eyed him) and then lay back down on the couch again, making farting noises with his lips. When he’d hear the tell-tale click of the doorknob that tells him Sunggyu’s home, he’d be up in a second and attack his boyfriend.
Sunggyu would sometimes note. “Maybe you should go out or something.”
Myungsoo would look up from his food. “Where?”
Sunggyu shrugs, taking a sip of water. “I don’t know — there’s a new café nearby, why don’t you try hanging out there when I’m not home?”
Myungsoo hums, turning the idea over in his head for a moment before settling on maybe giving it a try sometime soon.
∞
It is a new café, just a few days open and Myungsoo can tell there’s still the congratulatory flower standee by the door, with its trademark ribbon. He jostles his bag and opens the door.
There’s the pervasive scent of vanilla in the air and Myungsoo is intrigued, looking around the café. There’re a few customers here and there, mostly lone customers, some on their phones, others on books, one was a student, judging by the papers around her.
“Hi, welcome!” A voice called out and Myungsoo turns to the counter. A man, who looked probably around Myungsoo’s age, with thick brows smiles at him and Myungsoo smiles back a bit — a little shy.
It’s not that he’s asocial or anything, but he’s not really used to being the center of attention — even though his features would often pull looks while he’s in the street or while he’s on set.
He spies an empty table near the counter and sets his bag on it, grabbing his wallet along the way.
Making his way to the counter, he glances at the pastry display, just taking note of the sandwiches and cakes, looking at the colours before he looks away and faces the man who greeted him at the door.
Myungsoo notices that he’s a bit on the shorter side, but not too much and he looked striking — thick brows, and fanged smile (which Myungsoo takes a moment to stare intently) and his nametag reads “Howon”.
“Hello,” Myungsoo greets, albeit quietly. Howon smiles wider.
“Hey. What can I get you?”
He looks at the menu behind Howon and takes a moment to ponder on his choice. He wasn’t really a café-strolling person, sometimes he’d just get what Sunggyu would usually get, even if it isn’t his cup of tea (or coffee, in this case).
“I’m not sure,” he admits, biting his lip. “What do you recommend?”
Howon nods, before turning a bit to glance at the menu. “Well, we just opened last week but our iced mocha is a bestseller. It’s a bit on the chocolatey side, but I guess that’s for people who like their coffee sweet. Our Americano is up there, too.”
Myungsoo nods, taking it all in. There were also non-coffee beverages, like strawberry frappes and the like but he’s not really keen on fruity flavours. “I, uh, I think I’ll get the Americano.”
Howon smiles. “Great!”
He punches in the item, and suggests a slice of cake to go along with it. Myungsoo declines, but maybe he’ll get one the next time around. He pays for his drink and Howon hands him the receipt with a smile, and Myungsoo thanks him.
When he returns to his seat, settles comfortably on the couch and pulls out the book he brought with him to while away the time.
A few minutes later, when he’s settled into the book he brought with him, Howon appears by his table and sets his drink down. Myungsoo closes the book, and sits up, smiling his thanks at Howon.
“Would there be anything else?” Howon asks, and Myungsoo thinks for a second that the smile on Howon’s face is genuine and not just customary.
“No, I’m good. Thanks, Howon.” He answers and Howon smiles again before taking his leave. Myungsoo’s eyes are drawn to his black jeans, and he hopes his face isn’t flustered as he appreciates how good-looking Howon is.
His day was certainly going to be interesting.
∞
The next time he was at the café, it was a Saturday. It was around one in the afternoon, the noon air a little heavy and hot and Myungsoo brought Sunggyu with him this time around. They both step into the cold, airconditioned café, glad to be away from the searing heat. It’s a bit busier today, considering it’s a weekend. Someone calls out a greeting and Myungsoo turns and sees it’s not Howon.
He doesn’t know what to make out of the faint feeling of disappointment, until he turns his gaze and sees Howon by the other end of the counter, near the espresso machine and Howon looks up and smiles at him in greeting.
Beside him, Sunggyu looks for a table before turning back to Myungsoo.
“I’m gonna get us a table,” his boyfriend says, “just get me the same with yours.”
Myungsoo nods, and makes his way to the counter.
It’s someone else, and Myungsoo takes in his wide smile and feels an infectious thread of energy bounding around. His name tag reads “Dongwoo”.
“Hey, what can I get you today?”
Myungsoo greets back and runs down his order, and remembering what he said last time, decides to add a slice of cake in the mix. Unbidden, he turns his head to look at Howon and the man is smiling at him, especially when Dongwoo calls out the order.
“Ah, finally deciding to take my word for it,” Howon jokes, one corner of his mouth raised in humor and Myungsoo spies the canine. There’s something oddly attractive about Howon — something about his sharp features, the slight edge of his jawline or just the chesire-like manner that he smiled that pulled Myungsoo in.
“Uh, yeah. Decided to try it out, like you said.”
Dongwoo punches in the price and Myungsoo pays for it before walking away with his receipt. He passes by Howon’s corner and the man throws another smile at him. He glances at the two orders of Americano and asks. “With a friend?”
Myungsoo shakes his head, answering quietly. “Boyfriend.”
Howon nods, and smiles at him — Myungsoo doesn’t know what kind of expression flits over Howon’s face but before Myungsoo could investigate it further, Howon’s already speaking. “I’ll head these right up with your cake.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks, Howon.”
Howon grins. “No problem…”
And Myungsoo realizes that it’s been the second time he’s around and he hasn’t once told Howon his name. “Myungsoo.”
The barista nods, holding the plastic cup in his hands as he repeats the name in a soft voice. “Myungsoo.”
“Yeah.”
“No problem, Myungsoo.”
And, before the situation becomes even more awkward, Myungsoo ducks his head and makes his way to the table Sunggyu had plopped down on.
Sunggyu is looking at him with a pointed gaze and a raised brow.
“What?” He asks, wondering where this is comging from.
“You seem friendly with the staff.” Sunggyu remarks, and Myungsoo fights the urge to glance back at Howon.
“They’re friendly, I guess.”
“Hmm.”
Myungsoo kicks Sunggyu’s shin under the table. “Ouch, okay, okay.”
Sunggyu sighs and shifts the topic to a different one. They were going to watch a movie tonight, but they hadn’t settled on one title yet. Sunggyu wanted to go for horror but Myungsoo also wanted to try out another film that had gotten good reviews as well.
They were in the midst of weighing their choices, along with where to go for dinner when Howon appears by their table, two iced Americanos and a slice of chocolate cake on a tray. He greets them both, and sets down the tray.
Sunggyu thanks him and so does Myungsoo, although he feels somewhat bothered by the way Howon looks at him for a moment before bowing and turning back.
When he picks up the fork and grabs for a chunk of the cake, Sunggyu is looking at him pointedly again. It’s mostly curiousity, with no heat, but Myungsoo still feels being inspected and opened. He kicks Sunggyu’s shin again.
∞
For how long Myungsoo has known Sunggyu, his boyfriend has never been known to throw himself into fits of jealousy or anger. Maybe it’s because Sunggyu’s a level-headed man — he has to be, with the job he has — but there was something innately grounded in Sunggyu. It was Myungsoo who was the tempest between the two of them, flitting between bouts of carefree wind and thunderous storm. Friends and family would say that it’s the writer in him. “You know creative people, they’re a little off in the head,” his brother would remark one time and Myungsoo would crumple one of his rejected drafts and aim for Moonsoo’s head.
That would probably explain how sometimes Myungsoo would feel giddy and excited at the thought of going to the café where Howon works at. It’s become somewhat of a treat for the week for him — making his way just to plop down on the couch and read, and see Howon smiling at him across the expanse.
Sunggyu doesn’t say anything about his sudden new routine, although he does tag along on the weekends. Myungsoo knows that it’s not really appropriate, especially when you’re in an exclusive relationship and have been in the last two years but really, it’s nothing.
He just likes the coffee, or maybe the barista who made the coffee.
It was harmless. Honestly.
∞
It’s sometime mid-January when one of his contacts call him and after two hours on the line, walking around his kitchen, Laika looking at him like he’s weird, Myungsoo’s called in for another film. It’s somewhat big — although his manager and the director would be discussing everything in full detail with him once they set a date, he’s already gotten the overview on it. It’s a psychological thriller movie, and they’re settling with a somewhat popular actor who’s been getting recognition for his performance. It may be Myungsoo’s biggest project.
When he tells Sunggyu about it later, his boyfriend is obviously excited for him. They’re sitting down for dinner, and Myungsoo is running through ideas and plots in his head when Sunggyu just mentions, out of the blue. “I guess no more coffee runs, right?”
Myungsoo pauses. “What are you talking about?”
Sunggyu shrugs. “I’m just saying — with a new project, you’ll mostly be cooped up in here. And with how big a project it is, it’ll probably be like last time where you ended up talking with Laika at two in the morning.”
His boyfriend chuckles in nostalgia and Myungsoo doesn’t feel bothered by it — it was a funny incident, now that he looks back, but hey, who knew dogs would make great subjects to bounce ideas around?
No, what unsettles Myungsoo — perhaps unsettle is too strong a word; what gets him is what Sunggyu said about not going to the café anymore.
It was true, the reason he frequented the café was to find some respite from how restless he had become. Or it was that until he met Howon, and suddenly, the striking barista was taking up center stage of the reason why he wanted to drop by week after week at the café.
But thinking about it — it’s just grown past Howon now. He’s gotten to know Dongwoo, the other barista with the infectious smile and occasionally he’d get Sungjong, who only works nights because of his classes in the afternoon. He’s started to see them more than as just people who work at the café he frequented; he’s starting to see them as friends…and in the case of one barista, something more than a friend.
Myungsoo is struck with the realization that he hasn’t really had friends — sure, he’s known people back when he was in college, but they were his classmates and he only worked with them for projects and group discussions. He was always busy, always wanting to improve, wanting to get into the scene with his writing. Aside from Sunggyu, he doesn’t really talk to anyone outside the occasional business meeting with his rep or with the production team.
“I don’t know,” Myungsoo starts out, unsure. “I can try doing some work at the café.”
Sunggyu looks up from his food. “You hate working in public.”
Myungsoo shrugs. “Maybe a little air would be good for me.”
Sunggyu continues to look at him, and Myungsoo pretends that the piece of meat on his plate was extremely fascinating. When he looks back up, Sunggyu is still looking at him, and like every other time, it’s not heated — there’s just a certain, lingering curiousity in his gaze, like he’s trying to understand something.
“Our anniversary is coming up.” Sunggyu says, and Myungsoo runs the dates in his head and — yes, their anniversary is coming up, three weeks from today.
“I was thinking we could go somewhere, maybe go diving or something.” Sunggyu suggests, and Myungsoo feels heat and a strong stream of affection growing inside him.
“Yeah,” he comments. “That would be nice.”
Sunggyu smiles at him, and Myungsoo is reminded why he’s in love with him.
∞
Sometime later in the week, his rep Woohyun sets a date and Myungsoo’s drawn into a round of discussion with the production team. They talk about their potential candidates, the direction of the storyline and the timeframe they’re given. It’s a long discussion, and after half a day at the office, the discussion hasn’t settled on anything definite but Myungsoo can see it developing already. With another project up on his list, he feels that drive, that urge to just sit down and start writing and god, he really loves what he does for a living.
He is set on his word: he does try to minimize cooping indoors — and although Laika would no longer have the chance to turn his drafts into her personal chewtoy — Myungsoo finds that writing at the café does bring in a fresh bout of energy into him.
It’s Thursday of the week, just a little close to three in the afternoon — on a busy workday, the café is a bit on the empty side (it is situated in a residential area, a bit distant from the busier districts like the academe and the corporate zone). There’s an elderly woman reading a book by the window seats, and there’s a teenager at the bar. Myungsoo has decided to settle himself at the corner, near the socket just in case his laptop needs recharging.
He’s already drained his coffee and his sandwich is left half-eaten.
Myungsoo’s already written the premise, and he’s still batting some ideas together in his head. Deciding to take a break, Myungsoo closes his laptop and pulls out a book he brought for leisure. It’s Ruth Ozeki — A Tale for the Time Being — and he’s not even through a quarter of it yet; he’s taken to taking the book at his pace, it was a light read and he did love the surrealistic theme of the novel.
It’s after a few minutes, maybe half an hour, when Myungsoo notices someone approach his table. He looks up from the current chapter and sees Howon standing by, setting down a plate. There’s a cut of tart on it, strawberry slices and whip cream.
Myungsoo looks up. “I didn’t order this.”
Howon smiles wide. He looks good today; he’s always been good-looking, but he looks more so today. He’s dressed in a form-fitting black dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a white tie around the collar, running down and under his apron. His hair looks combed back, a few spikes spilling out and his eyes are very dark. Myungsoo spies something tattooed on his right arm.
“It’s on the house,” Howon answers and Myungsoo feels that thud in his chest again, at the way Howon looks at him.
“Th-thanks. Oh, do you want to take a seat?” He gestures to the chair, not knowing where the invitation came from. Howon looks a bit worried.
“Are you sure? You seem busy.”
Myungsoo shakes his head. “No, no. I’m taking a bit of a break.
He grabs his receipt and uses it as a bookmark, settling the novel on top of his laptop. Howon pulls the chair back and settles in front of Myungsoo, his eyes trailing on the writer’s hand as it places the book down.
Being this close to Howon, Myungsoo realizes just how good-looking the barista is — especially in the form-fitting way the shirt hugged his upper frame. He looks fit, but not in the ripped, overlytoned manner. No, Howon looks fit with a sort of finesse, Myungsoo notices that he sometimes moves with an ingrained sense of grace and naturalness to his movement. He’s noticed that for most people who go to the gym to build their muscle, they often carry themselves awkwardly – as if they’re not used to the changes their body had taken. Howon is different, he moves gracefully, naturally — Myungsoo deduces that Howon is either sporty or likes to dance.
“Hi.” Howon greets, smiling. Myungsoo suddenly feels shy and conscious of what he’s wearing: he was going for the casual, comfortable route in a black sweatshirt, black pants and rubber shoes. He feels slightly out of place.
“Hey.”
“So…what are you up to?”
Myungsoo shrugs, something he definitely picked up from Sunggyu. “Writing, mostly.”
A smile, interest lighting his eyes, Howon leans close. “Really? Like a novelist?”
Myungsoo shakes his head, feeling pleased at Howon’s genuine interest. It reminded him somewhat of Sunggyu when they first got to know each other. “Screenplay. I write for TV and movies.”
“That’s — wow, like that’s really cool.” Howon says, grinning. He expects Howon to say something along the lines of “Wow, you’re really talented” or “can you show me what you write?” and he’s pleasantly surprised once again when Howon asks a different question instead. “So, what genre do you like to write in — or are you more of an every man?”
Myungsoo is pleased because everytime someone has ever said to him that he “was talented” or that they want to see what he wrote; these queries, not matter how good or harmless their intentions, always placed a heavy pressure on Myungsoo’s shoulders. Whenever well-meaning family told him that he’s really talented, that he’s making the family proud with his job — it just makes Myungsoo feel even more unsettled and worried every time he opens his laptop and begins writing. What if he couldn’t do it? What if his writing wasn’t up to standard? What if he couldn’t write anything at all? It was the kind of pressure, although unintended, that often left him awake at the early hours in the morning, staring tiredly at the blank document on his laptop screen, mind frustratingly empty and devoid of good enough ideas.
And — don’t even get him started on when people asked to see or read what he writes. Even though, technically, people do end up reading (or hearing) what he wrote when the TV episode airs or the movie premiers, it’s different from reading it fresh and untouched from his own hands. When his screenplays are sent to the production team and editors, it’s changed, it’s edited, it’s mixed and formed to suit the project at hand and Myungsoo is fine with that — simply because he knows that they understand, and that he understands that they know how it feels like to write something.
But to have friends and family and even strangers ask him to show them his works, unedited — entirely his own creation — it makes him uncomfortable, like he’s baring a part of who he is to people who don’t know him and allow them to just criticize and pull apart each little thing he spent so much creating. It was nerve-wracking, and albeit a little weird, but Myungsoo is very protective of his work.
Imagine his surprise, and his pleasure, when Howon broaches the subject on his end, on his field. Myungsoo doesn’t know if it’s intended or Howon was just lucky, but Howon doesn’t place pressure on him with that question.
The barista is still smiling, arms on the table and he’s leaning close to Myungsoo, eyes trailed on him and it makes Myungsoo feel like it’s only the two of them right now, and nobody else could ever break into their bubble.
The conversation flows easily between them — uninterrupted, easy and for each silent moment that passes where Myungsoo and Howon just spend looking at each other, it doesn’t feel awkward or strained; it is as it is: easy.
“I don’t know, man—“ Howon beings, gesturing with his hands and fuck, Myungsoo finds it adorable, the way Howon just gets so animated when he starts on something he finds interesting. “I’ve read some of Murakami’s books and they’re just surreal. I admit, some of his works just, whoosh, fly over my head because they’re complicated and disturbing, but I guess that’s what he’s trying for. He kinda keeps you up at night with his novels.”
Myungsoo nods, agreeing, smiling. They were on the topic of novels and comic books now and it was such a refreshing topic, listening to another person’s opinions, another person’s ideas — what’s even better is that it was Howon, of all people. “His works really are sporadic, very Japanese-like. It’s a big jump compared to the other Murakami. His works are great too, but they’re more Western compared to Ryu. Just like Ishiguro and Ozeki here,” Myungsoo holds up the book. “Although Ozeki likes to branch them all together. I don’t know what to feel about this book yet, but I’ll get back to you once I finish it.”
Howon nods, and Myungsoo realizes that their hands are touching, as Howon traces the book cover and Myungsoo’s hand holds the book aloft. Howon seems to notice too, if the dark, heated look in his eyes was any indication.
Myungsoo suddenly feels like the café had gotten smaller and a lot hotter.
It’s when the doors open and a gaggle of students pop in that Howon leans back and looks to his wristwatch. “Wow, that was the longest break I’ve ever been on.”
Myungsoo drops the book, worried. “Are you going to get in trouble? I didn’t mean—“
Howon shakes his head, laughing a bit as he reaches over and plops a hand on Myungsoo’s mouth, cutting his apologies short. “Hey, it’s fine. I had a great time.”
Myungsoo is very aware of Howon’s hand on his lips.
The barista pulls it away and stands back up, stretching a bit before pushing the chair back in. Myungsoo tries not to stare at the shudders running through Howon’s body as he finishes his stretch.
Then, Howon is gifting him a soft smile. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”
Myungsoo nods. “Yeah, yeah.”
“I really had a good time, talking to you, Myungsoo.”
And Howon is walking back to his counter and Myungsoo is struck with the dawning truth. That not only does he have a crush on the barista, he actually likes barista.
He couldn’t deny it — there was a growing attraction between them. He knows it’s not onesided. As much as a social recluse Myungsoo has become, his ability to pick up nonverbal cues haven’t diminished over time. He knows when someone likes him or is attracted to him.
He knows when he is attracted to someone; and that someone turns out to be Howon.
Sunggyu pops up in his thoughts and Myungsoo swallows, unsure about how to go about this sudden epiphany. He’s in a relationship, he’s in love with Sunggyu — Myungsoo can still say that with absolute certainty; he is still in love with Sunggyu, he’s still attracted to Sunggyu and he can still see his future with Sunggyu.
But, just out of the blue, he suddenly sees Howon in that future.
∞
Later, when Myungsoo is home, he still has no idea what to do with his feelings for Howon and his feelings for Sunggyu. He doesn’t know if he’s being unfaithful, if this is cheating — even if it wasn’t physical — he doesn’t know at all. A hundred ideas pop into his head but they’re all contrived — romance comedy plots and ideas and entirely fictional and unrealistic.
He feeds Laika, a little numbly as he sits next to their (Sunggyu and his, Sunggyu and his) dog as she eats, and he’s staring into space.
When Sunggyu gets home, Myungsoo takes him in. Takes in the tired countenance, the once neat tie he had prepped for Sunggyu this morning now a mess as his boyfriend tried to loosen it; sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sunggyu sets his bag down on their couch and he smiles — he looks exhausted, and there are bags under his eyes from all the recent overtimes he had to file but he looks happy to see Myungsoo; he looks happy to be home.
And Myungsoo can’t help himself — he just can’t. He feels too much: too much affection, too much love, too much and he’s not sure if it’s for Sunggyu or for Howon or for both. So, he rushes at Sunggyu and kisses him, deep and bruising.
Sunggyu is surprised for a moment (Myungsoo can understand that) but he responds just as fervently, wrapping his arms around the writer. His own hands are no less innocent, locked around Sunggyu’s neck in a grasp that promised not to let go.
Myungsoo lets Sunggyu inside and he lets his thoughts numb into silence as Sunggyu grazes each crevice inside Myungsoo’s mouth. His thoughts recede into nothingness, Sunggyu and the pleasure thrumming in his veins.
∞
The one thing Myungsoo has noticed, all throughout the years he’d been with Sunggyu, was that the sex was just as mind-blowing as it had been the first time around.
There was just something about the way Sunggyu covers his body with his own, hands locking the writer’s wrist to the sides of his head, lips hot and searing against Myungsoo’s very own.
His hips are thrusting, slow and deep and agonizing and Myungsoo loves every second of it. Tufts of pleasured noises escape his lips and he’s long lost the desire to feel embarrassed at how whiney and needy he sounds like this.
“I love you,” Sunggyu groans, pulling a bit away from Myungsoo. The writer can’t answer coherently, merely answering in a frenzied groan as Sunggyu thrusts his hips into him and Myungsoo feels unrepentantly whole like this.
When Sunggyu climaxes and Myungsoo follows soon after, for one second, he thinks of Howon and his mind blanks out.
∞
“I might be home later though, got a deadline for reports this Friday.”
Myungsoo nods, even though Sunggyu couldn’t see him and voices out his understanding. “Don’t worry, I’ll probably fix something up here. What about you? Will you have dinner there?”
“Yeah, Eunji’s getting Chinese for us. I’ll be home by eleven, or something like that.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
A click. Silence.
Beside him, Laika whines. Myungsoo nods at her, shared sentiment and all that.
Myungsoo decided to just eat out then; he couldn’t be bothered with going out the way to prepare a meal for just one person. Running to the cupboard and pulling out a bowl for Laika, Myungsoo filled it out with her meal.
Pulling his coat off the rack, Myungsoo eyed himself in the mirror – found himself decent looking – and decided to take a walk around to look for a place to eat.
It was dark out already, but people were still milling about. Tightening the straps on his coat, Myungsoo double checked the lock on the door before walking out into the cold January evening air. After crossing two streets and a block, Myungsoo eyes the expanse of the café and he pauses a bit, just across it.
It looked a bit busy, just in time for students getting out from classes and coming home. He hasn’t been to the café this week, found himself often too busy. Maybe this weekend, he might drop by.
He squints his eyes and spies Sungjong doing his rounds, handing out orders. Dongwoo was at the back, preparing drinks. He wanted to go in and say hello but with how busy it was, he might just leave it for next time.
The side-door, leading to the back, opened and Myungsoo turns about and sees Howon just leaving, wrapped up in his own coat. He notices Myungsoo and a wide grin covers his face, and Myungsoo smiles back in return.
“Hey, late coffee run?” Howon asks, walking up to Myungsoo. “It make take a while, it’s a warzone inside.”
“It sure looks like it.” Myungsoo agrees, nodding to the busy café. Howon laughs.
“Mmhmm. Some students are doing some trivia night kind of thing, it’s really fun but not so much if you’re the one taking the orders.”
Myungsoo laughs a bit at this. “I can see how that might be daunting.”
Howon nods, and the barista eyes Myungsoo, a smile on his face.
“What?” Myungsoo asks. Howon shakes his head, although the writer doesn’t miss the appreciative glance sent his way. He feels his hands sweat — and before the silence goes on too long, he broaches the subject. “I’m actually heading off to dinner.”
“By yourself? Where’s Sunggyu?”
“Working; he’ll be coming home late.”
Howon nods, then — as if contemplating something — he looks away before turning back to Myungsoo. “I’m looking for a bite, too, before heading home. Wanna come with?”
Myungsoo opens his mouth, about to politely refuse — he really doesn’t want to take up Howon’s time but something about the earnest way the barista is looking at him, begging him to say yes, had him nodding.
A traitorous thought ran through his head, asking him what Sunggyu would think if he found out about going to dinner with someone else.
But he’s not someone else, he’s a friend.
Is he really just a friend?
Myungsoo has to admit — he still felt very confused, wondering why he could want Sunggyu and Howon so much, at the same time, with the same intensity. But right now, in the face of Howon’s bright smile, he couldn’t care less.
“Great! I know a good place, c’mon.” Howon ambles an arm and Myungsoo follows behind him, and they’re off chatting on things that had transpired while the other was away.
Myungsoo spends more time listening than talking — which isn’t surprising in itself, he’s always been more on the quiet side — and he can’t help but be drawn to the glints of emotions in Howon’s eyes, to the sharpness of his tongue and his wit.
Howon is nice, and he’s kind and he has a nice smile but he can also be very evil — he’s extremely witty and he always has a sarcastic joke ready and Myungsoo can’t help but laugh at.
They reach their destination, and it’s a food stall right in between districts. The ahjussi handling the stall greets Howon enthusiastically — a regular, Myungsoo notes — and the man is serving up platters of food as the two of them take their seats.
There’s honestly more food than Myungsoo originally planned to eat (the ahjussi went a little overboard; Myungsoo was right, Howon was a beloved regular) but he doesn’t really notice it, not when there was too much laughter and too many smiles shared in between with Howon.
The wind often picked up at times, but Myungsoo doesn’t feel cold, not when Howon’s arm brushes against him, and the man’s pleased smiles were all directed at him. Sometimes, Howon would look at him something fierce, something deep that made Myungsoo feel things all over his body and he would turn away and stuff himself with food — occasionally choking on it and Howon would laugh, push the glass of water closer and thump Myungsoo’s back.
He learns a lot about Howon; how he’s a dancer, but he also studied literature in college; that the café owner is his cousin but it was his idea originally; he learns he has two brothers, both studying.
Most of all, Myungsoo learns all the little quirks and nuances that make Howon who he is; he learns that Howon’s myopic, and he notices it in the way Howon squints as he reads a message on his phone; he learns that Howon’s favourite colour is purple, evident in the purple lining of his backpack; he learns that Howon very expressive, and each raised or furrowed eyebrow contorts his face in a way that has Myungsoo smiling to himself, extremely smitten.
God, Howon was so attractive and nice and just—
Myungsoo can’t even begin to describe how much Howon makes him feel; not unlike Sunggyu, not unlike anything that’s ever reminded him of home.
They pay for their bill, and find out that they’re on the same trail home. They walk closely, cherishing the warmth as the wind picked up once more.
“I’m not a big fan of Star Wars,” Howon says and Myungsoo turns to him, pretends to look aghast.
“How dare you — I am insulted.”
Howon rolls his eyes and grins. “Come on, not everyone likes Star Wars.”
“Silence, heathen.”
Howon chuckles and steps closer. “You’re so overdramatic.”
“I can’t even look at you right now,” and Myungsoo turns his nose up like he smells something nasty. Howon chuckles again and pretends to punch Myungsoo in the arm. Their steps echo against the asphalt in the empty street.
Myungsoo smiles to himself, feeling full and content and just so warm. Howon is silent as well, but it’s not the awkward kind, it’s contemplative and easy. Just like how everything always felt between them when they were together.
The barista rubs his shoulder against Myungsoo, and he sees the teasing glint in Howon’s eyes before he’s pressing back. Suddenly, it’s a game of who can push the other the most with their shoulder and they’re laughing as they try to trip each other.
Myungsoo overestimates his strength and ends up pushing too strongly and they end up barreling against the nearby wall, Howon’s laugh cut short as he wraps his arms around the writer to steady each other. Myungsoo is no less innocent; he had barreled into Howon’s chest, his own hands clutching the barista’s coat.
Myungsoo realized that he was very, very close to Howon.
Their noses were touching, their breaths fanning out and Myungsoo could only see Howon’s very dark eyes, wide and heated and—
And looking as if he’s unable to help himsef, as if the thought itself was painful, Howon groans and he claims Myungsoo’s lips for his own.
Like a dam that’s a little too close to bursting, Myungsoo doesn’t even put up any form of resistance. Instead, he grabs Howon’s jacket tighter and pulls him close, responding just as forcefully into the kiss. He can’t help the whine, the moan that bubbles in his throat and Howon’s hands are clutching at him — never letting go.
Myungsoo gasps Howon’s name in the second the barista pulls away for a breath before Howon resumes, attacking his lips again.
Howon is holding him tight, and his skin is feverish with want and need and Myungsoo cannot honestly even begin to grasp how good, how right it feels to have Howon this close, this intimately close.
“Myung—fuck” and Howon is groaning again as he turns them around and the writer finds himself pressed against the wall, Howon’s weight against him.
Myungsoo could feel every ridge, every curve, every angle of Howon’s body against him and fuck, if he could move his hips a bit, he’d feel all of Howon.
The writer angles his mouth, just relishing every swipe of Howon’s tongue, clutching, clawing at the barista’s back, feeling the fine texture of his coat. He claws for more and reaches up until he feels hair and God, he needs Howon to make that sound again and he needs it—
And Howon stiffens under him, and abruptly pulls away.
Myungsoo’s eyes open, his lips seeking purchase and Howon is stepping back and the look on the barista’s face has Myungsoo letting go of the other’s coat.
They were panting, reacclimating themselves and Myungsoo adores the flush of red across Howon’s cheek, and the sweat dotting his forehead. He knows he looks no different, but before he can step forward and resume kissing him, the expression on the barista’s face stops him dead on his track.
“No,” Howon says, a little unsure and shaky. A hand is raised in between them.
“Wha—“
“Sunggyu,” is all Howon says and Myungsoo feels the world beneath him give way.
∞
The walk back home is punctuated with an uncomfortable silence. Things are always — were always — easy between Myungsoo and Howon, even the silence. There were times where their conversations would deaden to silence but it didn’t feel awkward, and neither felt the compulsion to supply the empty air with something to talk about. They were content with being silent if they reached that point.
But the silence now — it’s uncomfortable and unbearable.
They’re still walking back home, but Howon has put a margin of distance in-between them and Myungsoo had made himself mute, too embarrassed and ashamed to even broker the silence with pointless chatter, each lost in their own thoughts.
When they reached the intersection, Myungsoo and Sunggyu’s (the thought of his boyfriend’s name had Myungsoo closing his eyes as renewed shame lanced through him) apartment was eastward and Howon’s was west.
They had never walked home before — Howon’s shift at the café ended at five in the evening, the only time Myungsoo stayed that long was when he was working through dinner or if he and Sunggyu were going out instead of going home. They’ve never had the opportunity to head each other off home.
Myungsoo thought that, if things hadn’t went south, they would be easy and comfortable with saying goodbye. Myungsoo would probably make a jape and Howon would grin at him before raising hand in farewell, maybe even a hug.
But now, the silence is deafening and Myungsoo isn’t looking at Howon. He is facing the barista, and the other is doing the same, but they do not make eye contact. Myungsoo is determined to stare past Howon and Howon seems he’s doing the same thing.
Howon opens his mouth, and his lips form words that he does not say before he closes them again, turning away. He walks his way home, head down and Myungsoo doesn’t call out goodbye.
He’s too ashamed to say goodbye.
He runs all the way home, and when he slams the door shut, Myungsoo leans against it until he slides to the floor and he lets the tears run, and the images in his head are overlapping: Howon’s back as he walks away, and Sunggyu’s exhausted but genuine smile.
∞
The next few days run too fast for Myungsoo to wallow in self-pity and shame. His rep, Woohyun, calls almost every day and Myungsoo’s day had become two items on a to-do list: be on the phone with Woohyun or be neck deep in drafts and forget to function like a human being. He often gets like this when he’s in the middle of a big project, sometimes surviving the day on caffeine and desperation alone — but this project is different, Myungsoo wants to devote himself completely and entirely to it. He doesn’t want to think of anything or anyone else but this project, even when Sunggyu would pointedly stare at him in worry from the living room.
Myungsoo knows that Sunggyu is familiar with this pattern, but Sunggyu is a worrier when it comes to Myungsoo’s health and his boyfriend has taken to placing a plate of food next to his laptop before he leaves for work. Myungsoo would wave goodbye, distracted and all he’d get is a sigh and the door closes.
Sometimes, Myungsoo would pretend to be asleep as Sunggyu fiddles with the writer’s phone and sets it back down on the bedside table before climbing into bed, arm around Myungsoo. He’d pretend to be asleep, cherishing Sunggyu’s closeness and when the older man’s breathing had evened out, Myungsoo would reach for his phone and realize that Sunggyu had turned his six AM alarm clock off. He’d then feel both affection and shame until sleep laid claim at the early hours of the morning.
Myungsoo had yet to open up to Sunggyu about what happened with Howon. He had even yet to talk to Howon after that. It had been four days already and a part of him misses the barista’s presence, the same part that wanted to reach out and tug Sunggyu in his arms and reassure him of his love every second of every day.
He knows, Myungsoo knows with all certainty, with every fibre of his being that he was still in love with Sunggyu, that the man was still who we wanted to be with for a very long time, that Sunggyu was still his to love, his to be with. But somehow, somewhere, Howon had come barreling into his life and suddenly there’s two completely different people occupying the space in his heart.
The chaos, the discord was pulling him apart at the seams and it was starting to show — in how many hours he could steal for sleep, on the many drafts he had discarded in the span of an hour. He knows he’s at the breaking point when Laika whined for lunch and Myungsoo had snapped.
The poor dog had jumped and, on her short legs, ran away. Myungsoo had felt extremely guilty after.
Great, he thought miserably. I’ve fucked things up with the last thing on earth that would understand me.
He pulls out a bowl and doubles the serving, hoping Laika would understand the sentiment.
When Woohyun calls a little later, Myungsoo doesn’t get to bring up an excuse as to why he’s not done with the manuscript. Instead, Woohyun is adamant about him taking a break.
“Look, Sunggyu-hyung called me because he’s worried about you and if I had known you were killing yourself for this, I would have stepped in sooner.” Woohyun barks into the phone and Myungsoo lays his head on the table and raises another silent apology to anyone listening.
Woohyun is then silent on the other line. Myungsoo realizes he had said that apology aloud. He sounded so weak and fragile.
“Myung, take a break. Take the week off. Whatever it is, get it off your chest. I know it’s not the project. I know how you, and this is something more than the project. Whatever it is — you have to deal with it. I’ll call you next week, alright?”
Myungsoo nods, and answers with a quiet, “yes, hyung.”
“Good,” he can hear the smile in Woohyun’s voice. “don’t push yourself too hard, okay? I’m here if you need anything.”
He swallows, unable to hold back the gratitude in his voice as he thanks Woohyun.
A click and the call ends and Myungsoo is alone in the silent apartment. He puts his phone on the table and walks away from the kitchen. He walks to the living room and plops down on the couch, thumbing the hem of his pyjamas. It was probably around two in the afternoon, and he could hear the almost quiet chatter of people outside his door.
Howon would probably be having his lunch right now, Myungsoo thinks. The weight on his chest tightens at the thought of the barista and Myungsoo wants to know what he’s doing, if he’s really having his lunch or if he’s going to grab coffee instead; if he’s wearing that black dress shirt that fits well on him and if he’s busy running orders. Then, he’s thinking of Sunggyu and if his boyfriend already had lunch, if he’s eating right. He has half a mind to give Sunggyu a call or even try Eunji’s number to see if he skipped lunch again but his stomach twists at the thought of Sunggyu and Myungsoo sighs, flopping his face against the armrest.
There’s a familiar whine and Myungsoo shifts his head and sees Laika looking at him, as if worried, sitting by the foot of the couch. Gently, Myungsoo reaches out and pulls Laika to sit beside him and he nuzzles her mane.
“Hyung is sorry,” he apologizes and Laika licks his nose, as if saying “yes, I forgive you”.
That act by itself, no matter how small, brought tears to Myungsoo’s eyes as every torn, heart-breaking emotion he had felt in the last few days came bubbling up to the surface.
Woohyun was right. This had gone long enough and he’s already hurt enough people — even if some of them were still in the dark about it. He shouldn’t have let this go one too long; it doesn’t matter what he felt for Howon, for the attraction and the excitement or the long-withstanding certainty that he shared with Sunggyu; they both deserved the truth.
Laika rests her paw on his arm, gently. It was such a human act — a little gesture of kindness and Myungsoo breathes, the weight on his chest easing.
Tonight.
He’ll talk to Sunggyu tonight and then Howon.
He doesn’t know how it would end up (and the thought of either two of them out of his life was too scary, too daunting an idea that Myungsoo clutched Laika closer to him by instinct) but he had to do it. They deserve it.
∞
It was before dinner that Myungsoo broached the subject.
Sunggyu was sitting on the living room couch, a book open on his lap. Myungsoo wanted to sit beside him, but he felt that for this discussion he had to put a margin of distance between them first.
He sits on the other chair, next to the armrest of the couch and Sunggyu smiles at him in greeting, before returning to his book. It’s when Myungsoo reaches over and grabs the remote, turning the television off, that Sunggyu looks up from his book and he probably feels the tension in Myungsoo as he sets the book aside.
“Hey,” Sunggyu starts off and Myungsoo says it back, quietly.
His heart is thumping, beating wildly and his hands are sweaty but Myungsoo pushes through. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Okay?” Sunggyu says, facing him. “What is it? Is it about work?”
Myungsoo shakes his head, letting himself feel a little warm at Sunggyu’s concern. “No, it’s not that. It’s…something else.”
“Oh, okay. What is it?”
The writer takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, letting his hands relax and letting go of the hem of his shirt.
He looks at Sunggyu and looks into his boyfriend’s warm brown eyes. Sunggyu’s workload had gotten better in the last few days, and he’s glad to see his boyfriend starting to get some weight back in him, the dark circles under his eyes lightening.
“I love you, Sunggyu. I love you so much that sometimes, I don’t know what to do with myself.” Myungsoo begins, and each word is true, each word is heartfelt and even if it takes everything Myungsoo has to put into words what he feels, he doesn’t relent. He needs to get this across — just in case, before, before…
He shakes his head, dispelling the fear for now. “I want you to know that. You’ve made me so happy, and I don’t know how else to say this without sounding cheesy but there’s no one else I want to have a future with but you.”
Sunggyu is smiling, and his eyes are glistening. “I love you too, you know. You don’t have to say it out like that, I know you love me and I love you just the same. What’s this about?”
Myungsoo shakes his head and reaches a hand out to grasp Sunggyu’s. “Just – just, let me speak alright? Before you react, before you say anything, or do anything - just let me finish, okay? Before you decide on anything, I want you to know everything.”
Sunggyu looks at him, as if gauging something Myungsoo couldn’t see before nodding. “Okay, I’ll listen. I promise.”
And Myungsoo knows that Sunggyu will always keep his promise.
The writer settles back on his chair and he begins.
∞
Myungsoo first meets Sunggyu in the summer, just when the leaves started crinkling and fading to brown. He was just a stand-in writer then, his job was just to follow the lead writer at the time and learn from him. It was a taxing job — the pay was minimal and the workload was suicidal; he had no rest days, they were all spent on field, learning and building his own name.
He had gotten used to getting by himself, surviving by himself — even when he knew he was pushing himself to his limits. There had been too many occasions where he had fallen asleep, in the train cab or in a corner of the set or even while standing in line at the coffee machine, letting his eyes shut and just letting himself black out for a few seconds.
It was just his luck then, right after an exhausting meeting with the production team at the time, when he was making his way home, ready to forego dinner and fall asleep like he had done in the last few months, that he finally run past what his body could provide.
He was standing in a train compartment, hand on the railings and it was already ten in in the evening and his body was telling him to eat, to sleep, to eat and sleep at the same time — to just let himself relax and rest. The train was already moving and people were pressing him from all sides and Myungsoo was starting to feel really dizzy.
His stomach was acting up and he remembered that he hadn’t had anything to eat the entire day, save for that iced coffee which he only managed to sip twice of.
Myungsoo felt his stomach grumble and he closed his eyes, tried to breathe normally but his body wasn’t listening and he started tasting bile in his throat. When he opened his eyes, he staggered as blinding light greeted his vision and he started seeing stars and shapes in flashing black and white.
He was sick. He felt like it.
Closing his eyes, he struggled to center himself and calm his breathing and, as if exhausted, his head flopped forward, laying on something soft.
“Hey,” a voice exclaimed in surprise. Myungsoo doesn’t really notice.
“Hey, man, get off me.” The voice spoke, a tad annoyed. Myungsoo doesn’t really care. He was okay where he was, it was soft and it was safe.
“Dude, final warning.”
And, as if threatened, his stomach somersaulted and Myungsoo opened his eyes only for him to vomit all over the man in front of him.
“What the fuc—“
He heaved his guts out, and just when he felt like he couldn’t heave anything out anymore, Myungsoo felt cold all the way to core before he blacked out and fainted.
When he had woken up, he was still on the train — but instead of standing, he was laying on the hard bench. The other passengers were looking at him in a mixture of pity and disgust but Myungsoo didn’t really care.
His attention was on the person above him, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. The man was tall, looked a tad older, light brown hair swept back. Sweat dotted his forehead, framing small eyes and a frown. The man was in a white shirt but when Myungsoo’s gaze trailed lower, he saw the peach color of his vomit and spittle and he realizes that this was the guy he vomited on.
“Hey,” the man said, a mirror to what he said ages ago, but instead of annoyance, only concern dotted his voice. “take it easy, alright.”
Myungsoo doesn’t speak, stares only at the man in bewilderment. The man chuckled, although it sounded exhausted and worried. “Just relax for now, alright? You gave me a heart attack when you keeled over.”
Myungsoo opens his mouth and blurts out a pained “What?”
The man cocks his head at him, before raising a hand to run through Myungsoo’s hair. His eyes took in the unnaturally pretty hands. “It’s nothing, okay? I’m Sunggyu. What’s your name?”
Myungsoo remembers quietly answering him, before the strobe lights beyond Sunggyu’s head widened and evened out and before he knows it, Myungsoo’s fallen asleep.
∞
“Do you remember that?” He asks Sunggyu now, and the man is smiling, nodding. “That was the first time we met — and even then, even when we were strangers, you were already taking care of me when you shouldn’t have to, even when I was old enough to take care of myself.”
“You’ve always told me that, that I’m too headstrong, too independent and maybe you’re right. For the longest time, I’ve always been by myself. I only had myself to rely on, nobody else was willing to help me. I had to survive by myself, make it on my own because no one would lend me a hand for help.
I thought to myself, ‘I don’t need anyone else’. I’m fine by myself, I can make it on my own. As long as I have my words, I don’t need anybody. But then you came,” and Myungsoo smiles, in fondness. “and you were this persistent jerk that wouldn’t listen to me when I say ‘I’m fine, thanks for taking care of me at the train’ or even when I told you that you don’t have to pretend to be nice to me, that we both know you taking care of me in the train was just out of courtesy. But you wouldn’t listen, you would ignore me and you’d bring me to a restaurant and wouldn’t let me leave until I finish my entire meal.
I had lived, thinking to myself that I would be fine by myself and then you came. You came and suddenly, you became too important for me. Suddenly, there was space in my life for one more person and it had to be you.”
Myungsoo smiles, eyes glistening and his voice hitching. “You’re the love of my life, and I can’t imagine a future without you anymore.”
And he takes a breath, letting himself reach over and wrap his hand tight around Sunggyu’s. He lets himself breathe, lets himself wash all the things he had never said away from his body and his spirit.
“And then, I meet this guy.” And Sunggyu sits up, hand tightening, eyes curious.
Myungsoo swallows and soldiers on.
“I meet this guy. His name is Howon, and he’s…he’s funny and gentle and nice, he dances and he reads and he gives me tarts for free when he knows I’ve been at work for far too long and could use a break or a friend. He would sit with me, and he would let me bounce ideas off him and he would just smile and laugh and he doesn’t make me feel pressured, like I have to say something or contribute to the conversation. If it’s quiet, he’s fine with it and we’d just read together.
Everything is easy with Howon, and then I realized. I like Howon. Not just in the crush kind of way, or like in the way friends like each other. No, being Howon was like being with you, and it was the easiest I’ve ever felt. With Howon, I feel just as wanted, just as cared for and suddenly, he’s there and you’re there,” and Myungsoo pauses, “I can’t imagine myself without him, too.”
“All of a sudden, there’s you and Howon and I don’t know what to do with these feelings.”
Myungsoo breathes, ending it. He sits there, eyes still on Sunggyu but the man’s face is blank. He doesn’t look angry or hurt, but he looks blank and guarded. Then, slowly, Sunggyu lets his hand fall from Myungsoo’s grasp.
He can’t stop the spike of pain in his heart.
“Wow,” Sunggyu mutters, more to himself than to Myungsoo. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
“I love you,” Myungsoo says. “I love you, Sunggyu, please don’t doubt that.”
But Sunggyu acts as if he hadn’t said anything, simply sits back and stares into space. Myungsoo feels the world slowly crumbling beneath him, threatening to throw him into the abyss. The weight on his chest grows deeper with every passing second.
“I—“ and Sunggyu pauses. Myungsoo sits up, not letting the tears flow from his eyes. “I— I don’t know what to think or say, Myungsoo. I…I — this is a lot, just a lot and I need time to think. Without you.”
Myungsoo feels his chin tremble and his body grow cold but he understands. He wants to reach out but he doesn’t know if his body could even move, or if his touch is even welcome.
Then, Sunggyu stands and the silence is deafening.
“I…need to drive for a bit,” Sunggyu says, mostly to the air, not looking at Myungsoo. “Just to clear my head. Don’t. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”
Myungsoo wants to say something, wants to make everything better but he doesn’t know how. He just sits there, and breathes and feel his whole world crack and shatter into a thousand web-like lines.
A click of the door and Myungsoo is alone.
It’s when he allows himself to sob.
Later, he climbs into bed and doesn’t even notice Laika jumping up with him even though she’s not allowed up. For tonight, he needs to feel human, to feel like he still matters, that he’s still allowed to have this small comfort.
When he wakes up in the morning, the space beside him is cold and empty. For one brief moment, a flight of fear has him up and running to the cabinet and when he opens it and sees Sunggyu’s clothes are still mixed with his, he lets himself breathe in relief.
It all disappears when he goes to the living room and he sees Sunggyu, dressed for work, and there’s a duffel bag beside him.
“Where —“ His voice fails him, and Myungsoo suddenly feels very small and very insignificant right now.
Sunggyu looks at him, and a fleet of emotions run across his boyfriend’s (is Sunggyu still his boyfriend? Can Myungsoo still call him that?) face. Worry, sadness, happiness, pain.
“I…there’s a business trip and it’s set for tomorrow,” And Myungsoo nods, Myungsoo remembers Sunggyu telling him about it before dinner yesterday. “but I’ll be heading in early. Just to be sure.”
Myungsoo nods, but he knows it’s an excuse. He doesn’t call Sunggyu out on it, but he can’t help the hitch, the crack in his voice as he asks.
“Will you come back?”
And, looking pained, Sunggyu closes his eyes and breathes. When he opens his eyes, Myungsoo sees they are red. The older man lets go of the bag and slowly crosses the distance between them. Myungsoo is allowed one whiff of sandalwood, one second of hesitance before soft, unnaturally pretty hands frame his face and Sunggyu is kissing him.
It’s deep, but not bruising. It’s heated, but not with a passion that burns him to the core with desire. No, it’s a different kiss. It’s everything Sunggyu wants to say but can’t, not yet, not right now and Myungsoo feels something wet run down his cheek as Sunggyu steps away.
A thumb wipes the tear away and Sunggyu is turning around. Before Myungsoo could even so much as reach out and say goodbye, the door had already closed.
∞
His feet take him to the café without his conscious direction. Myungsoo’s no longer surprised.
He stands outside the café, takes in its mahogany façade and for one second, he wished it disappeared. He wished he had never set foot inside, had never met Howon, maybe if he hadn’t – Sunggyu would still be here, and he wouldn’t be feeling so small, so insignificant, so worthless right now.
He sighs. It’s not the café’s fault. It’s not even Howon’s fault.
The café wasn’t just where he met Howon, it was also where he met Dongwoo and Sungjong and it’s where they’ve become his newest friends. It was unfair to hate a place where he shared happy memories just because it reminded him of heartbreaking one. Maybe it could be a lesson, Myungsoo muses, to remind him everyday of what he had done, what it had cost.
The back-door opens and Howon steps out. Myungsoo stares back.
Howon’s eyes are red, and he looks shaken.
“Sunggyu left.”
“Sunggyu came by.”
They both spoke at the same time, and both immediately understood. Myungsoo lets his head flop down a bit before looking back to Howon, suddenly feeling exhausted and old and tired.
Howon steps closer, and he opens his arms and Myungsoo finds himself pressed against Howon, his nose against the barista’s neck, smelling vanilla and coffee and cinnamon and Myungsoo lets himself sag, lets himself go.
He doesn’t kiss Howon goodbye.
He leaves on his own.
He returns home alone.
∞
Friday comes and Sunggyu hasn’t come home. He hasn’t replied to Myungsoo’s texts or answered his calls in the last hour, but the night before, Sunggyu texted him — something about staying somewhere for a bit and that he’ll come home soon.
Myungsoo doesn’t know what to make of the message, but if the sudden loneliness was any indication, he didn’t like what it meant.
He’s taken to sleeping with Laika on the bed already, but he makes sure to sleep with Sunggyu’s sweater in his arms, taking in his scent and reminding himself to hope, to cling to what remaining thread linked him to Sunggyu.
Even if it hurt.
Even if it made it hard to breathe.
∞
The week ends and another Monday greets him, alone. He returns to work, and Woohyun has stopped asking about his lethargic tone. His work hadn’t diminished — ironically, Woohyun was right, it did put everything into perspective. He can finally return to writing, but if the somewhat bleak and abject tone of his works bothered Woohyun, his rep didn’t say anything at all.
Myungsoo walks, sometimes for hours on end. He would walk all the way to the city proper then back, sometimes he’d bring Laika with him, but more often than not, he walked alone.
Sometimes, he would pass by the café, and he’d stand from across the street and he’d see Howon busy, see Howon entertaining customers, see Howon clearing the tables.
Sometimes, he would take pains to avoid the café and go somewhere far away, and for one second, he would hope that he would get lost and never be found again.
∞
You can see the sun setting if you stand at eight street, right across Sungmin Avenue.
Laika’s gained weight, I think I should stop overfeeding her.
Your sweater, the beige one you love to wear to sleep, there’s a hole on the right sleeve.
Howon’s asking for you, and so is Dongwoo and Sungjong.
Have you eaten lunch? Are you sleeping well? Take care of yourself. Please.
I’m sorry.
I love you.
I miss you.
Please come back.
∞
When the clock strikes midnight, and the minute hand crawls into the morning, Myungsoo picks up the phone.
He hasn’t heard anything from Sunggyu in weeks. He doesn’t know if he’s alive, if he’s okay, if he’s hurt. He doesn’t know if he’s still in the city, if he’s still here.
The weight on his chest has become a permanent fixture.
Breathing had become exhausting for him.
Myungsoo struggles to get by, day by day.
He punches in the numbers, so familiar he could even dial it in his sleep.
Myungsoo picks the phone up and presses it against his ear. He hears the ringing, and it continues and continues and continues and continues. It clicks and it goes to voicemail.
He stills for a second, savoring the rehearsed script of his boyfriend telling him to leave a message after the beep.
A beep.
Myungsoo breathes. He knows what he wants to say, but it hurts to say it. He doesn’t know how he could even vocalize through the world-heavy weight pressing on his chest.
Another beep. A warning beep.
Myungsoo exhales.
“Happy anniversary, Sunggyu. I love you.”
A hitch.
“Come back home.”
∞
When he wakes, Myungsoo feels fingers run through his hair. He doesn’t know what time it is, but through his sleep-addled vision, he makes out the bright morning light seep in through the curtains. It still feels a bit chilly, sometime mid-morning, and Myungsoo takes a moment before he realizes that the fingers tucking his hair were not a figment of his imagination.
He notices the weight by his side, and he turns bleary eyes and they widen a little as he takes in Sunggyu. He looks…he looks well. He looks good, actually. His hair is a bit longer, a bit unkempt but he looks good, his naturally fair skin tinged with a faint tan. His eyes are bright, and there’s a small smile on his lips and Myungsoo smells oceans and the vast sea.
“Hey,” Sunggyu says, whispers rather.
“Hey,” Myungsoo answers back.
It’s silent, save for Myungsoo’s breathing, and he wants to close his eyes as Sunggyu resumes petting his hair, letting his fingers trail down Myungsoo’s cheek and rest his thumb on the writer’s lips.
But he’s afraid that if he closes them, Sunggyu would disappear. He’s afraid of the realization that this all could be a dream. He doesn’t want Sunggyu to go. His world isn’t complete without Sunggyu in it.
So he keeps his eyes open no matter how valiantly they struggle to close, to return to sleep.
Sunggyu leans close and presses a kiss on his forehead.
“Happy anniversary, Myungsoo.” He says and Myungsoo finally learns to breathe again.
∞
“You got a tan.”
“Mmhmm. Jeju is quite warm this time around.”
“Wow, that far, huh?”
“Yeah.”
…
…
…
“He’s important to you, isn’t he?”
…
“Yes.”
…
…
…
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Say something.”
…
…
…
“He’s important to you—“
“—and you’re important to me, too.”
…
…
…
“I guess I’ll have to learn to share you.”
∞
Relationships take time. They take time, work and a certain amount of sacrifice and compromise. Whoever said that you can build a relationship solely on just wanting to be with each other and make it last obviously did not have to go through the hurdles the three of them had to go through.
Although uncommon, their relationship was like any other.
It takes time.
It takes a long time.
It takes days, weeks, months but they make it work.
Myungsoo doesn’t know how they manage to make it work, in the end. He doesn’t know how they managed to last, throughout all the tears and the hurt. He doesn’t know how he manages to last, through Sunggyu leaving and coming back — through Howon initially refusing and avoiding him, them. What they could be, what they could have.
It took a lot, and they had to learn to be open with one another, they had to learn to be with each other. They had to relearn everything they ever knew about each other.
Myungsoo had expected for it to fall apart, for one of them to give up and leave. But when weeks turned to months, and he’s sitting at a table in the corner of the café and Howon leans over to peck him on the cheek while Sunggyu is beside him, reading — and he wonders at how this is still possible.
“You’re important to us, dumbass.” Howon says, fondly. Sunggyu nods in agreement, sharing a look with the barista that spoke so much of their bond. They had simply tolerated each other, wanting to be with Myungsoo and learning to compromise. But in that tolerance, the quiet burgeoning of friendship and affection began.
“We’re in this for the long run,” Sunggyu helpfully supplies and Myungsoo feels his heart swell to a size far bigger than he ever imagined it could.
They were still learning. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, far from it in fact. There were many instances where they would all be in agreement with one another, and it would be perfect and easy with all three of them; times where Howon and Sunggyu would find common ground (other than Myungsoo) and the writer would pretend to be dismayed as Howon and Sunggyu finally see eye-to-eye on something (Howon and Sunggyu would then roll their eyes simultaneously, and Myungsoo can’t help but find that ironic and amusing). Yet, there were days where conflict was unavoidable. There were times where Howon would be at odds with Sunggyu and they would bicker and bite at each other, then coldly ignoring each other for the entire day. But, at night, they would all crawl into the same bed, and even if Myungsoo had to sleep in the center (“because my boyfriends are both arrogant assholes who are too proud to apologize to each other,” Myungsoo would exclaim aloud in bed with his two boyfriends, to Laika and the dog would bark in agreement from her bed by the door), Sunggyu and Howon would grudgingly bid each other good night, the barista tucking his nose into Myungsoo’s nape, his arm around the writer’s waist and Sunggyu tucking the writer under his chin, legs tangled with Myungsoo’s.
And if, late at night, Sunggyu would reach over and tuck a sleeping Howon closer, only Laika would know.