Archive of Our Own ^beta

Now, let’s recount all the different ways Hao could have spent his last day of school before spring break, shall we?

He could have lounged around in his apartment, watched reruns of Dance Moms with Taerae while laughing at the mothers’ pointless bickering, and ordered four large boxes of fried chicken to share before going to bed with a full stomach and a rested mind. Or, perhaps, he could have called up Ricky to head downtown to go shopping, took pictures for his carefully curated Instagram feed, and circled back to attend his university’s festival at the end of the day. Hell, he could have even hung out on the field with his pseudo son, Yujin and humored him as he was tragically defeated by the teenager in a game of soccer. All of these seem like viable and joyful ways to spend his day off!

So why, pray tell, is Hao currently trudging alongside members of the dance team while hauling two large cardboard boxes on a dolly push cart?

Well the answer is simple: Sung Hanbin.

He had texted Hao earlier in the day to ask if he was busy, and Hao, stupid Hao! He had been momentarily dazed by the notification and wasn’t thinking straight when he responded in an embarrassing amount of eagerness that he was free the whole day, with no plans in sight. Absolutely none at all.

Perfect, Hanbin had replied, and Hao was puzzled. But not for long, because soon, Hanbin sent him a lengthy file attachment including all the plans and details needed in preparation for the dance team’s performance at the university’s festival that night. How could Hao have refused to help? He didn’t have a good excuse anyways, and Hanbin had likely known he was up to nothing all day.

Lately, Hao has been finding it increasingly hard to say no to Hanbin. Not because he is a weak man—No, Hao is able to stand his ground when necessary—but because he doesn’t want to cause any disagreements within their tentative relationship. Though, Hao will admit, he has always been a little weak when it came to Sung Hanbin, so that could have also been the reason why he agreed to help. Some things will never change.

So here he is, falling in step behind Hanbin as his eyes shamelessly trace up and down his broad shoulders, trying not to trip over himself as he pushes the dolly cart along. It’s really not his fault if Hanbin looks a little too good in his lethal black t-shirt and gray sweatpants combo, especially when the shirt clings to him in all the right places. Hao may have drooled a little, but that’s no one’s business at all.

“You only use me for labor,” Hao whines to the man he’s been shamelessly staring at the whole afternoon.

“Yeah, well.” Hanbin shrugs, the muscles of his shoulders rippling with the movement. “Why else would I keep you around?” He jokes, but Hao is a sensitive being at heart, and takes much offense from this.

Hao presses his lips into a thin line. “I don’t know,” he grumbles after a moment. “Maybe because of my incredible wit and charm? Among other talents?”

Next to them, Matthew barks out a laugh a little too loud that makes Hao frown. He shoots the younger one a nasty stink eye. “What are you laughing at, gym rat?”

“Try again,” Matthew’s foxy eyes curve playfully as he sticks his tongue out. “It’s not offensive if I take pride in being one. You’re getting rusty with your insults, I must say.”

“Oh that was fire,” Gyuvin, that traitor, cheers unhelpfully. “How is hyung going to retaliate this one?”

Hao turns his head to look in the other direction, away from his friends, developing a sudden appreciation for the nature around him. He’ll choose to be the bigger person today.

“Now, let’s all be civil here,” Gunwook pipes in, walking as steadily as possible as he carries four carefully balanced cardboard boxes on top of each other, defying all laws of physics. Matthew pretends to knock into him in an attempt to tip the boxes over, but he swerves gracefully, boxes still intact, causing Matthew to scoff and roll his eyes.

They make their way to the back of the stage where they will be performing later today. Hanbin fishes in his pocket for a key and uses his foot to prop a door open for everyone to file in.

“Okay everyone,” Hanbin instructs in his authoritative voice that he adopts only with his team. “This is going to be our changing room so feel free to make yourselves comfortable, but not too comfortable—we have to clean up whatever mess we make in here, alright?”

The boys drop the boxes in their arms and shake off their shoulders, grunting from exhaustion. Huh, looks like Hao got lucky with his little push cart. He feels a few of the members side-eye his cart in jealousy, and he avoids all eye contact, examining the makeshift changing room. It isn’t too shabby. It has a nice couch in the middle, a few mirrors positioned against the wall, and a clothes rack. Not bad.

The members naturally disperse into their mini friend groups within the crew, chatting along with each other, and the room fills with jittery clamor as they prepare for the stage. Hao, admittedly, does not know the rest of the dance crew well enough to make conversation, so he gives a few polite smiles and waves before making a direct beeline towards where his friends, and Hanbin, have congregated around the couch.

“Jesus, hyung, did you stuff the box with rocks or something? My arms feel like they’re falling off,” Gyuvin mumbles as he falls face first onto the couch, his words muffled as he speaks into the cushions.

“Stop complaining and move over. You’re hogging the couch,” Hanbin smacks his arm gently, without any malice, to prod the lanky boy whose limbs cover the entire couch.

Gyuvin whines as he rolls over to make some space for Hanbin. “You’re so mean today. First you make us do all the heavy lifting and refuse to give me the push cart even though I had clearly called dibs on it yesterday, and now you’re not even letting me lie down the way I want to.”

“I would call you weak if it weren’t for the fact that I’m a little bit winded from that too,” Gunwook laughs humbly, poking Gyuvin in the cheek, as if he wasn’t carrying twice as much as everyone else.

“Same. I can’t even feel my arms anymore.” Matthew gasps dramatically. “Gunwookie, massage this part for me.”

“What?” Gunwook’s eyes grow adorably wide with alarm, unsure of where to put his hands on Matthew’s shoulders.

“Were they really that heavy?” Hanbin asks, a worrisome look crossing his face. Ah, ever so kind Hanbin worried about his members, even as they’re blatantly teasing him just for the fun of it.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Hao chimes in, only because he feels slightly bad for Hanbin, though he was also a victim subjected to the manual labor. His support doesn’t seem to land well, as his friends all turn to him with matching frowns.

“Come on, dude. You don’t get a say in this. You were pushing a cart.” Gyuvin huffs.

“Right? That’s not even half of the energy exerted by us.” Matthew rolls his neck to one side so Gunwook can have better access for his massage. Gunwook places a cautious hand on the older’s shoulder.

Hao, curious to see how heavy the boxes really were, almost trips in an attempt to lift one of the boxes, now realizing what a privilege and lifesaver it was that he had been blessed with the cart. Maybe Hanbin had felt bad for making him work on his day off. Embarrassed by his lack of strength, he inconspicuously moves away from the pile of boxes in hopes that no one had seen this moment of weakness.

Unfortunately, he makes direct eye contact with Hanbin, who is bearing a suppressed smile, lips downturned and whisker dimples appearing—a face of someone who had definitely just witnessed his little scuffle with the boxes. Hao shoots him a glare and swiftly motions at him to zip it.

“Wait, why did Hao get the cart anyway?” Matthew complains as he latches himself onto Gunwook now. “He was carrying the least out of all of us.”

“He wasn’t even there for the epic and intense rock paper scissors battle to decide who got the cart, which, by the way, I should mention that I won yesterday!” Gyuvin complains, shooting Hanbin a stink eye.

Gunwook, who is flushing a suspicious amount as Matthew clings onto him like a koala, opens his mouth before Hao can even say anything about the color on his cheeks and snarkily says, “It’s because of his boyfriend privileges, duh.”

Hao immediately snaps his mouth shut. He almost feels the temperature in the room drop.

Oh, Gunwook could not be any more wrong.

He watches Hanbin stiffen at the same time. The room feels too stuffy now. He doesn’t know what to do: allow his friends to falsely tease him, or to announce to them on a random afternoon that, no, he no longer receives said ‘boyfriend privileges’ because of a certain incident that begins with ‘break’ and ends with ‘up.’ Surprise! Now go get on stage and dance your heart out, boys!

Hanbin looks all too uncomfortable with the situation, and seems to be going through a dilemma of his own. Hao glances at him warily before correcting Gunwook as lighthearted as possible, so as not to draw any attention to what he’s about to say next: “Ex-boyfriend.” He catches Hanbin wince out of the corner of his eye and immediately wishes he could swallow the words that have just left his mouth.

Ah. Maybe that wasn’t the right move.

All his friends freeze in place. No, Hao thinks to himself solemnly, that definitely wasn’t the right move at all.

Gyuvin, who’s been passed out on the couch the entire time, sits up immediately as if resurrecting, almost knocking into Hanbin, confusion painted on his face. “No way. What? Are you serious?”

Now Hao is the one confused. Gyuvin’s extreme reaction causes Hao to frown deeply. Did Hanbin not tell Gyuvin, of all people, about their breakup? He could understand not telling the rest of the dance team, but Gyuvin? Strange, considering his closeness to the younger boy as childhood best friends.

Back when they first began dating, and Hao was first introduced to Gyuvin, the boy had cried genuine tears of joy, thanking Hao for loving Hanbin while simultaneously throwing out the least threatening threats known to mankind about how if Hao broke Hanbin’s heart, he would have to face his dog Eumppappa’s full fury. The images he supplied of his scrawny Italian greyhound did little to help his threat. Hao had heartily laughed back then. It was hard to take Gyuvin seriously when he so closely resembled a baby fawn and had trails of tears and snot running down his face.

With this kind of introduction to the boy, Hao would have thought that Hanbin and Gyuvin were close enough for him to already know of the breakup, especially if it isn’t any fresh news.

But Hao can’t get too much into it now, or else he’d turn into a hypocrite. You see, Hao hasn’t exactly told anyone about the breakup either—but for good reason!

Jiwoong had been busy with his new internship back then, and if Hao were to add to his list of burdens with his silly breakup, the guilt would have felt endless. Taerae had been losing his mind over his music final as he had been unfortunate enough to have a dead weight group member, and Hao didn’t have the heart to complain about his own issues.

And he would have broken the news to Ricky, his own best friend of many years, but he had been going through quite a lot of boy troubles with none other than the boy resembling a baby fawn, and there wasn’t really a right time for Hao to jump in and announce that he, too, had some boy troubles. Major boy troubles, might he add.

So it’s not like Hao was trying to hide it. It’s just that the timing wasn’t right, and as days turned into weeks which turned into months, it suddenly felt too awkward to even bring it up anymore. Besides, Hao was getting along just fine without telling anyone, and he didn’t really feel a need to alert his friends anymore. This supposedly monumental moment of his life—the end of a two year long relationship—would pass by quietly, and that was that.

That isn’t to say Hao never thought about his breakup after, because only God knows how much he mulled over it each day, wondering if he had made the right choice, wondering if there could have been another way. Most days, he chooses to push these thoughts down somewhere deep within him, to save himself from the spiraling that occurs if he gives them even just a little piece of his mind.

Hanbin cuts through Hao’s thoughts by clearing his throat. “Anyways,” his voice sounds a bit strained. “I let Hao hyung use the cart because he’s graciously using his day off to come help us set up for tonight's performance. I better hear you all thank him later for his help, by the way—”

“Sorry, we are not letting you gloss over the fact that you and Hao have broken up. Like, what?” Matthew cuts in abruptly. From the way he untangles his limbs from Gunwook, it sounds like he means serious business.

“Literally. What?” Gyuvin echoes, eyes almost bulging out of his sockets.

“When was this?” Gunwook demands. “Definitely wasn’t recent, from the way Hao hyung just casually mentioned it.”

Hao squints at the boy. “Was that a dig at me?” Did he just subtly imply that Hao would never react to such things with calmness? Ha, if only he had seen Hao fresh out of the breakup! Such calmness had never been exuded out of anyone before. In fact, he was so calm about the whole ordeal that his friends never even suspected a single thing! Hao takes pride in that.

Gyuvin, who’s sitting next to Hanbin on the couch, is now all up in his face, trying to get an answer. Hanbin buries his head in his hands to avoid the pointed stares.

“Come on guys,” his ears are bright red from all the unwanted attention directed towards him. “We have a performance to prepare for. Let’s do this later, please?” He begs weakly.

Hao sighs. He should do something about this. After all, this sudden interrogation was his fault, and he feels bad for distracting his friends from their performance.

“Guys,” he calls out. All heads turn towards him now, and he shrinks a little at all the eyes on him. “It’s really not that big of a deal. Trust me, we’ll give all the juicy details at dinner tonight.”

This is a lie. There are no juicy details to their breakup. They were dating one day. And then the next day, they weren’t.

“Just promise me that you’ll give the performance your all, okay? Don’t waste your time thinking about this right now.” Hao says in an attempt to divert their attention to what really matters right now—the performance. Even though he doubts the boys even have the capability to mess up, he’d hate for them to leave the performance unsatisfied. Especially when he knows how hard Hanbin has been preparing for this. For all his performances, really. It was one of his traits that Hao admired most. Still admires.

The boys eye him with suspicion. Hao can sense that they want to press more, and he braces himself for the verbal attack when he sees Gyuvin’s eyes blow wide, his mouth opening to yell.

God, please, if you hear me, please make my friends let this go, please please please—

“Rik!”

Hao feels as if his soul has left his body and he almost falls to his knees from gratitude.

His savior and cause of Gyuvin’s distraction arrives in the form of a gorgeous model with platinum blond hair and a crippling addiction to wearing all black.

“Shen Quanrui!” He nearly sheds a few tears as he rushes over to the blond man, throwing an arm around his shoulder. He’s normally not that touchy of a person, and neither is Ricky, evident by the strange look the younger throws at him. He’s not quite sure why Ricky’s even here, as he also had a day off, but Hao is most definitely not complaining right now. “What brings you here!”

Ricky raises one of his perfect eyebrows. “Well this is new, Ge. Why are you so excited to see me? Did something happen?”

“Oh, did something happen?” Matthew repeats, voice growing louder with each word. A much unneeded dramatic effect to draw attention to the awkward situation at hand, Hao thinks.

Gyuvin sidles up next to Ricky and throws his arm around him, promptly shoving Hao’s arm off. Hao scoffs. So this is why Ricky’s here, he presumes. Joining the dance team with their preparations for their show while simultaneously cozying up with his not-yet-boyfriend.

“Guess what? Hao hyung just broke the news to us that he and Hanbin hyung have broken up!” Gyuvin cries out as he clings on to the tall blond. He continues, with a little too much eagerness, “We’re getting all the juicy details at dinner tonight, too! Can you believe this?”

Ricky, who is normally quite composed, and only ever really shows about three different expressions, unlocks a fourth today. His mouth is slightly open, and both of his perfect eyebrows are now raised. “Wow, that’s…unexpected.” His eyes bore into Hao’s, seemingly trying to search for more information in his irises. “Can’t wait to hear all the details later. I trust you’ll be telling us everything?” Ricky can be quite perceptive when he wants to, and Hao avoids his gaze out of fear.

He shuffles away from the not-yet-couple and plops down on the couch next to a very distressed Hanbin. The guilt for bringing this mess to the dance crew is eating up Hao from inside and he nudges Hanbin’s knee, cautiously, to check his expression. Hanbin, thankfully, doesn’t seem mad when he looks over. Just tired, with a hint of embarrassment dusting his cheeks.

Hao pushes up his lower lip to form a sort of pout, which he hopes Hanbin can recognize as a symbol for his remorse for causing this major distraction from their upcoming performance. Hanbin’s eyes flicker down to his lips and pause momentarily before making their way back up to meet his eyes, offering a small, close lipped smile. Now it’s Hao’s turn to involuntarily observe the perfect curvature of the other’s lips, and he might have gazed at them a little too long, because when he looks back up, he knows he’s been caught staring, from the looks of the smirk adorning Hanbin’s face.

But Hanbin is, objectively, the hottest guy Hao has ever laid eyes upon, and will probably ever lay his eyes upon. So forgive Hao for ogling his ex-boyfriend sometimes. He knows he fumbled a good one. He’s never been able to keep his eyes off of Hanbin anyways. Not back then, and certainly not now, even when it feels more like a crime to do so these days.

Lately, when Hanbin doesn’t realize, he’ll sneak glances at him—more than he should, for a pair of exes. Because the honest truth is, he misses Hanbin like crazy. Which is a weird thing to say, because they see each other almost on a weekly basis, sometimes even more. Being in the same friend group will do that to you, Hao quickly learns, and he adores his friends, for all their clinginess and love, and their mandatory weekly dinners that he could never skip no matter how hard he tried. They always found a way to work around his excuses.

He’s thankful, though. Perhaps it’s because of them, that he was able to retain even a slight bit of normalcy after the secret breakup. Maintaining a routine and gaining exposure to Hanbin helped to pretend like nothing was wrong between them at all.

But Hao sees it in Hanbin’s eyes, in the strained smiles he gives, in the nervous fidgeting of his hands. They’ve come to a point of no return, and Hanbin is never truly himself around Hao anymore.

So when he doesn’t notice, Hao watches, desperate to see the real Hanbin. He’ll arrive at their weekly dinners and linger slightly at the door just to observe. He’ll press his nose against the glass to catch a glimpse of Hanbin through the window. He’ll wave goodbye and watch him walk until he’s nothing more than a speck in the distance.

And occasionally, he’ll recognize the Hanbin he used to wake up next to, the one he used to kiss silly, the one he had been so sure of back then.

________________

The energy in the room is at an all time high, especially now that the boys have changed into their costumes. Luckily, as the performance draws closer, they’ve decided to drop the topic of Hanbin and Hao’s relationship, or lack thereof. It doesn’t stop them from grumbling about wrangling all the details out of Hao later though. He gulps, anxious for what awaits him at dinner.

The dance crew has adopted the look of some sexy vampire, Hao thinks, or maybe they’re just vampires, and he just finds Hanbin sexy. Sitting next to Hao on the couch, he fiddles around with the fabric on his chest. He looks breathtaking, and Hao hopes he knows that, because he can’t find it within himself to open his mouth and say those words.

“Do you think the ribbon looks fine like this? Or should I double knot it to make the ends shorter?” Hanbin leans away from Hao, allowing him to take a full look at the part Hanbin is referring to.

To be honest, Hao isn’t all that knowledgeable about the concept and dance, and he thinks Hanbin looks perfect the way he is. “Um, if you want,” Hao stammers, looking away. “I think you look fine.”

“Just fine?” Hanbin shoots a little devilish smirk and winks. Hao feigns disgust, biting back a smile from creeping onto his face.

Ricky plops down on the couch next to Hao, dragging a far too pleased looking Gyuvin by the arm. “Move over Ge, I need to help this idiot with his ribbon because apparently, some people still don’t know how to tie a knot in this day and age.”

“Hey! I know how to, I’m not that incompetent!” Gyuvin whines. “It’s just easier if someone helps me.” He slides onto the couch with them, forcing Hao to scoot further into Hanbin’s direction.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, you big baby. Turn towards me.” Ricky rolls his eyes, but Hao can see the ghost of an endeared smile on his lips.

Hanbin shoots a knowing smile in Hao’s direction at this whole interaction. They used to jokingly bet on when Gyuvin and Ricky would get it together and confess to each other. Hao wonders if Hanbin remembers all their other inside jokes. He feels a pang of longing for the collective consciousness he used to share with Hanbin before he remembers that he essentially brought this upon himself by bringing up their relationship in the first place.

He never had to acknowledge it today. He had been doing so well at ignoring it.

Hanbin hums a tune under his breath as he works on tying his ribbon again. Hao picks at his fingernail. He doesn’t recognize the song Hanbin is humming, and it bothers him more than it should.

“What are you thinking about?” Hanbin murmurs, just loud enough so Hao can hear him over the boisterous voices of the other boys in the room. They’re so close to each other that Hao can feel the heat emanating off of him.

Hao thinks that Hanbin is too considerate for his own good. He wishes that Hanbin would get mad at him sometimes. It would make things simpler, for there to be a definitive right or wrong. Hao would be able to breathe easier, if only Hanbin hadn’t left him floating around in a morally gray area for three months, questioning the choices he had made back then, wondering if what he did was selfish, or selfless, or some weird mix and mess of both.

Even now, Hanbin still extends his compassion with the choices Hao makes—the revelation of their relationship being yet another choice that teeters dangerously on the edge of being a mistake.

“What are you thinking about?” Hanbin repeats again plainly as he tugs at the ends of the ribbon to retie it. It’s his third attempt now, and Hao watches as his fingers dexterously work around the fabric.

“I just don’t know why I decided to correct Gunwook,” he whispers back, throat feeling a bit tight. “I don’t know why I decided to say anything at all.”

“Hey, It’s okay. I’m not mad.” Hanbin shrugs, like forgiving Hao is the most natural thing to do. Hao feels a little bit like the shittest person on earth.

“They were catching on soon anyway.” Hanbin’s hands pause in the middle of a knot. “Sometimes they ask why you don’t sit in during our rehearsals anymore.” His voice gets a little quieter at the last bit, like he’s been wondering the same thing.

Hao blinks rapidly. He must be hearing this wrong, because why does Hanbin sound so disappointed?

“It doesn’t have to be an exclusively dating thing. I could still come visit sometimes.” He really doesn’t know why he volunteers himself, especially when all he has been wanting to do lately is stay home, keep to himself. He has a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with Hanbin’s current dejected expression. “I mean, they’re my friends and…we’re still friends.” His voice unwillingly raises up at the end, making it sound more like a question instead. He rubs his palms nervously against his thighs and hopes the perspiration forming won’t leave a stain.

Hanbin chuckles softly, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye before returning his focus back to tying his ribbon. “Of course, Hao. You know that.” Hao swallows and nods, ignoring the wave of relief that washes over him at Hanbin’s confirmation.

“I’m really not mad though, so don’t worry about it.” Hanbin grins, soft and warm. Hao’s heart squeezes a little. He nods again, because he doesn't know what else to do.

Hanbin successfully ties his ribbon to his desired length and proudly shows Hao with jazz hands on the side for a special effect. Hao shoots him a weak thumbs up. God. He’s so painfully awkward.

“Are you going anywhere for spring break?” Hanbin asks, leaning back into the couch. He removes the pillow from behind his back and tosses it aside. It lands on the floor. Hao picks it up and brushes off the dust, hugging it close to his chest while frowning.

He never goes anywhere during any break. Plane tickets are too expensive, and not worth the price for a short visit to his family. Especially when most visits often end with an argument and a silent treatment from his mom.

Hanbin should know this best, given their day long phone calls whenever they were apart. But maybe this is him simply retaining the formality of being exes, the process of knowing less and less about the other, retreating out of the other’s life slowly until the memory of the other is wiped clean. He’s always been more on top of things than Hao.

“Nope,” Hao pops his ‘p’ to play his part as the conventionally casual and collected ex. “Just me and Jin.”

Immediately, Hanbin sits up straight, eyebrows furrowing at this unfamiliar name. “Jin?” He chews on his lip thoughtfully, as if racking his brain for any previous mentions of that name.

Hao stares at him, dumbfounded at the alarm evident in his voice. Has the exhaustive preparations for the performance finally caught up to him, loosening a few screws in his mind? “Yeah, Jin…as in the ramen brand,” he says slowly, letting out an airy laugh of surprise.

Hanbin relaxes and falls back onto the couch once again. “Oh, yeah. That sounds good.”

“Why do you ask?” Hao asks, as composed as possible.

“Um, well. I kinda knew you weren’t going anywhere,” Hanbin scratches his head. “I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be around most of the break too, if you ever…” His voice trails off, leaving Hao to puzzle at the unfinished sentence. If he ever what? Wanted to see him? Was Hanbin willingly subjecting himself to Hao’s presence? What did he mean by this?

Hao tilts his head and shakes the thoughts away. Calm, cool, and collected ex, he repeats in his head like a mantra.

“Why aren’t you visiting your family?” He asks instead. It’s a valid question. Hao knows how much Hanbin adores his family, and he never misses a chance to see them.

“I think I’ll spend a night or two with them, but that’s about it. They’re taking Areum and her friends on a trip after, and I’m not really inclined to spend a week with five teenage girls who will probably do nothing but laugh at how unfamiliar with the new generation I am.” Hanbin sighs a little, perhaps recalling particular jabs kids hurl these days. “Anyways, like I said, I’ll be around, so…” He pauses, as if considering whether or not to say the words Hao’s thinking he will say.

“We can hang out over break,” Hao finishes for him, only because he’s had enough of seeing Hanbin nervously twiddling with the ribbon he tried so hard to tie. He doesn’t want to watch him attempt a fourth time. “Only if you want,” he throws in at the end, just in case that wasn’t what Hanbin wanted to say.

“I would love that, Hao.”

Something magical happens as Hanbin says those words. He breaks into a smile, bright and dazzling, overtaking every corner of his face as his eyes scrunch up, his dimples forming little whiskers across his cheeks. It’s a smile, a real smile, one that Hao hasn’t had the privilege of receiving for three months, one that Hao has only had the lucky chance of catching briefly when he watches Hanbin interact with others from afar.

For a moment, Hao is simply bewitched by a smile he thought he had forgotten. He stares and stares, unblinking, and thinks that Hanbin’s face was made for smiling.

He’s broken out of his stupor when he hears a cough from the other end of the couch. The cough seems to startle Hanbin too. He tears his gaze away from Hao and raises a questioning eyebrow in Gyuvin’s direction, the cause of the cough that broke their momentary enchantment.

“Uh, they’ve been calling for us to line up backstage,” the tall boy points in the direction of the door, where a poor student volunteer stands awkwardly, holding a clipboard in hand, not daring to step foot into the rowdy room.

“Ah, of course,” Hanbin jumps up, flustered, as he hurriedly brushes off the lint on his pants. There’s a speck stuck on his upper thigh, and instinctively, Hao reaches out to pick it off before realizing what he’s done. Hanbin doesn’t even flinch, to Hao’s surprise, only shoots him a glance out the side of his eye, though the tips of his ears grow red. There’s a little bit of satisfaction that rushes through Hao, knowing that he still, no matter how insignificant, has some sort of effect on Hanbin.

“Okay, everyone, listen up! Single file out the door, follow the stage manager! Let’s get moving, everyone!” Hanbin instructs sternly, cupping his hands around his mouth to project his voice. The boys in the room obey immediately, filing out the door.

Gyuvin waves a sad goodbye to Ricky as he’s dragged out the door by Matthew and Gunwook, who hold him in a headlock as they whisper into his ear and snort loudly. Gyuvin yelps and pushes them off, bolting out the room before they can catch him, causing Matthew and Gunwook to laugh mischievously and high five each other. Hao glances at Ricky. He has a sneaking suspicion that he knows what they were teasing Gyuvin about.

“Well, I have to go now.” Hanbin says, making his way towards the door while walking backwards, maintaining eye contact with Hao the whole way out. “You’ll be in the crowd, yeah?”

Hao cranes his neck to watch him leave. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he turns around to walk normally, pauses in the doorway, and faces Hao once again, as if forgetting something. Hesitantly, he says, “I’ll…be looking for you.” His face flushes concerningly quickly, and he whips around, running out the door immediately.

Hao gapes at the empty doorframe where Hanbin was just standing a second ago, heart pounding dangerously in his chest. What on earth? Why would Hanbin say that to him? Does he know the impact of his words? Will he take liability if Hao’s heart leaps out of his throat?

He has an urge to squeal and kick his feet, but one disapproving look from Ricky is all that he needs to control himself. He has to play the role of a cool ex. He has to be cool. A cool person would not react that way to a slightly flirtatious remark.

“This is why none of us could be sure if you guys had broken up before you actually confirmed it yourself,” Ricky comments to himself, observing Hao with a look of disgust painted on his face.

“What?” Hao says absentmindedly, still replaying Hanbin’s words in his mind, like a broken record player. I’ll be looking for you, I’ll be looking for you, I’ll be looking for you. Seriously, what’s his problem? This is the exact reason why they’re friends weren’t sure if they had broken up! Because of words like these!

…

Pause.

His eyes dart from side to side as he slowly registers what Ricky has just said.

“Wait what?”

“Well shit.” Ricky curses with a sigh. “I was hoping you were distracted enough to not catch my slip up. Gyuvin’s gonna kill me.”

“What?” Hao cries out again. “Were you guys theorizing about our…breakup?” He forces the last word out with much effort. He’ll have to practice saying that word to himself in the mirror when he gets home. What kind of ex can’t even say the word breakup? Not a cool one, that’s for sure.

Ricky doesn’t give an answer and feigns nonchalance, pretending not to hear as he stands up abruptly. “We should go get seats now before they run out, huh? I wonder when Jiwoong, and Taerae are going to arrive. They’re picking up Yujin too, right? Maybe I should go find them now. They might be lost.”

“Hey, answer my question.” Hao tugs on the sleeve of Ricky’s black sweater to stop him from leaving.

Ricky grabs Hao’s wrist and easily removes himself from his grasp. This is the second time he’s been proven to be weak today. His left eye twitches. He might have to start hitting the gym with Matthew and Gunwook.

“Better get going—I heard there’s going to be a lot of people here tonight. I’d hate to not get a clear view of the dance team.” Ricky says as he scrambles to exit the room before Hao can catch his sleeve again.

“Ricky.” Hao calls out from the couch.

“Sorry Ge! I can’t hear you from here!” Ricky yells back, his voice floating in from the hallway.

Hao falls back onto the couch and groans.

________________

The boys dance amazingly, though that goes without saying. With a leader like Hanbin, and a crew so passionate, it’s impossible not to end up with a mindblowing performance. Maybe Hao was paying a little extra attention to Hanbin on stage. Whatever, that has little relevance.

Hao is happy. When he looks to his sides, he sees half of his best friends filming the team and cheering along. When he looks ahead, he sees the other half of his best friends killing it on stage. He snaps a few photos and moves his body along to the rhythm, pumping up and down to the beat. He’s enjoying himself. It’s quite a memorable way to end the second trimester, the past few grueling, incessant months that had seemed to drag on with no end.

After finding their friends and gushing out their innumerable praises at their performance, Hao, Jiwoong, Taerae, and Yujin decide to head to the fair’s food stall first as the rest of the boys get changed. Ricky, for some reason, has opted to stay behind, using the lame excuse of acting as a “helping hand” in case someone needs him.

“Good one, Ricky,” Hao snorts. The blond squints at him and gives him the finger, which only makes him smile wider.

His smile is quickly wiped off his face, however, when Matthew, linking arms with Gunwook to go change, trills out without even looking back: “Remember your promise, man!” Gunwook nods along, though he throws a slightly apologetic look back at Hao on behalf of Matthew.

It doesn’t help when Gyuvin adds fuel to the fire by saying, “All the juicy details!”

They’re gone before Hao can even begin to reprimand them. He’s left with three pairs of wide eyes staring at him in confusion. It’s inescapable. Hao might as well rip off the bandaid now instead of letting them pester him the whole walk to the food stall.

“I heard you all have been speculating about this anyways, so yes, Hanbin and I have broken up.” Taerae makes a startled noise, head jolting in surprise. “I’ll share more at dinner, as I’ve promised our friends. So don’t interrogate me for details now.” Hao adds firmly in his no nonsense voice, and marches ahead the rest of his friends.

He can hear the whispers of his three friends behind him, and the soft thuds of sneakers against the pavement as someone runs up from behind. Suddenly, a warm hand curls around his left arm and he looks at the culprit in surprise.

It’s Yujin, his eyes so incredibly wide with worry that Hao feels himself melt. It’s a look that makes him immediately want to apologize for all his wrongdoings and swear himself to a life of peace and kindness and positivity.

“Aww, Yujinie, don’t look at me like that,” Hao coos. “Why do you look so worried?”

“Are you okay?” The young boy blurts out as he entwines his arm with Hao’s, clinging on as they walk.

“I’m okay,” Hao promises, though he sounds so uncertain about it himself he feels the need to say more just to prove himself. “It’s nothing major. I’m tougher than you think.”

“It was a two year long relationship. I’d say that’s pretty major,” Jiwoong chimes in. He’s walking behind Hao, so he can’t see the kind of expression that’s on his elder’s face, but he can picture the slight downward curve of his lips and the disapproving crease between his brows.

“We broke up three months ago,” Hao retorts to demonstrate his mental durability. “It’s nothing recent. I was fine back then, wasn’t I? So why would I not be fine now?”

“Well, for starters, this is the first time you’ve acknowledged it out loud, so something must have shifted.” Taerae points out.

“Of course, we don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.” Jiwoong says sagely, using the voice he reserves for those nights where he’s in charge of handling their friends amidst their drunken crying. “It’s unfair to force you to, but I think it’ll help if you do.” Hao doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that Jiwoong has deemed this moment important enough to pull out that specific voice of his.

Well damn. If only his friends weren’t so caring and insightful. With Yujin wrapped on one arm, and Taerae and Jiwoong just a step behind, Hao feels embarrassed almost, to be on the receiving end of all this surrounding attention, to require this much care.

He laughs breathily to the teenage boy clinging onto him. “It almost feels like I’m the youngest one here instead of you.”

Yujin raises his eyebrows. “Why do you say that?”

“Because,” Hao fumbles, feeling quite silly all of a sudden. “You guys are treating me so nicely.”

The boy snorts and shakes his head as if Hao had just embarrassed himself by uttering the stupidest words known to mankind. “Cause we’re friends, hyung. That’s just what friends do. You, of all people, should know this.”

Hao purses his lips and looks away, pretending like the younger boy’s words didn’t move him more than it should have.

Damn it. He loves his son.

They make their way to the food tent, claiming the largest table available. Hao and Taerae gather nine plastic stools to accommodate their group while Jiwoong finds one of the student volunteers to order. He ends up, somehow, earning a generous discount for them too. Hao has witnessed this effect so many times, but is never any less surprised at how charming Jiwoong can be. He can be useful, occasionally.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of their group to arrive, freshly changed into more comfortable clothes. Hao mourns the loss of the sexy vampire look. His eyes flicker to Hanbin, clad in an oversized black zip up and grey sweatpants. This isn’t a bad look either. It’s familiar, and stirs Hao’s stomach with a funny feeling. He knows that Hanbin isn’t wearing a shirt underneath that zip up, because he never wears a shirt when wearing that specific zip up. This is proven to be true when Hao notices Hanbin’s celestial tattoos peeking through. Then, he blinks, somewhat disappointed at himself for remembering such an inconsequential piece of information about his ex.

“Man, I’m starving!” Matthew cries out dramatically as he plops down in a chair next to Taerae, who wrinkles his nose.

“Please tell me you guys ordered already,” Gunwook says, almost pleading.

“Of course we did,” Taerae snorts. “We knew you guys would complain about our lack of foresight if we didn’t.”

“Awwww Taerrrraeeee,” Matthew cries out, reaching his arms out for a hug that Taerae swiftly dodges. “How did you know we were getting hangry? You know us so welllll, my little Taewae.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Taerae groans, pushing Matthew’s prodding arms away as he tries to press a kiss to his cheek. “Are you already wasted?”

“Nah he’s been like this all day, just ignore him. It’s his performance-day adrenaline. He’s been clinging onto everyone he sees.” Gyuvin snickers, pulling out a stool. He watches Ricky expectantly as the Chinese boy drifts towards the seat next to Jiwoong, before tapping his hand on the chair to signal for them to sit together. Ricky makes his way over to Gyuvin obediently.

Hao hears a chuckle along with the sound of plastic skidding across gravel and looks to his left. Hanbin slides into the plastic stool next to him with ease, and shoots him an eye smile, like nothing is amiss with his decision. Hao whips his head back and tries to listen to Yujin complain about his school. It’s hard to focus now though, with the increased awareness that Hanbin had consciously chosen to sit next to him.

It really shouldn’t affect him this much, but it’s too easy for Hao’s mind to overthink, especially when it comes to Sung Hanbin.

The two of them had long perfected the careful balancing act of avoiding each other just enough so that others won’t grow suspicious, so what is different about tonight that pushes Hanbin to cross that silent border?

“Hyung, are you even listening?” Yujin’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Of course,” Hao squeaks, blinking rapidly. “You were saying something about Ollie?” He was, in fact, not at all listening to Yujin, but he’s ninety percent sure that Ollie was somehow involved in the story.

“Yeah…” Yujin narrows his eyes. “That was just a lucky guess. I know you weren’t listening to me.”

“Cut your hyung some slack,” Hanbin lightly interjects, which causes Hao to flinch. “He overexerted himself today by helping us carry a few boxes.”

Hao’s eyebrows bunch together. Is this the third time he’s been called weak today? He is not having it. Glaring at Hanbin, he snaps, “Be grateful I even answered your cry for help today.”

“Please. It was not a cry for help.” Hanbin rolls his eyes. “I knew you’d be holed up in your room all day if I didn’t haul you out here one way or another. It was a chance for you to get some fresh air. If anything, you should be thanking me right now.”

A scoff escapes from Hao. “And where on earth did you just pull all that bullshit out of?”

“Up your butt and around the corner,” Hanbin responds so childishly that Hao barks out a laugh of surprise.

Yujin’s eyes dart back and forth between them, watching their banter unfold. “You two are so confusing.”

“Aren’t exes supposed to have an awkward phase or something?” Gunwook asks, scratching the back of his head.

Hanbin and Hao both clear their throats, aware that they have an audience of seven at the table, peering at them curiously.

Hao glances at Hanbin. An awkward phase? Well, yes, things get pretty awkward sometimes, especially when he falls down an endless spiral of overanalyzing every move. But it’s hard to remain awkward for long with Hanbin, because it’s so easy to revert back to their old ways, as natural as breathing in and out. His body remembers the way they acted, and his mouth moves before his heart can catch up, before his mind can warn him of the dangers of reaching too close to the past.

Hanbin shrugs. “We were friends first, before anything.” It sounds so easy coming out of his mouth that Hao wonders why it is that he finds himself thinking of everything so much, all the time. Why it is that he’s so affected by everything when he could also just dismiss things with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

He swallows uneasily, realizing that the hardest part of the night has arrived—explaining their breakup in great detail to his overeager friends, who are staring at them expectantly. “Maybe we should wait for the food to arrive first?” He says with a nervous laugh, trying his best to stall.

Whoever is in charge of his fate must be having the laugh of their life right now as within seconds after saying that, multiple servers drop by and the table is soon littered with heaps of plates and bottles of soju.

Well damn. Were the students of this university always such hardworking people?

“This is all we ordered,” Jiwoong says unhelpfully, a playful smirk on his lips.

Gyuvin grins, shoving a corndog in his mouth after dousing it with a hefty amount of ketchup. “The floor is yours, hyung.”

“Um, well,” Hao picks at the plastic tablecloth, poking a hole through it with his nails. He glances at Hanbin for support, but weirdly, Hanbin is staring down at the table, eyes trained on the plate of tteokbokki in front of him. Hao feels oddly irritated that of all the moments Hanbin could have chosen to ignore him, this is one of them.

“We broke up three months ago,” he begins, stuttering unevenly, still not quite used to the way his lips move to form the words. “I think we just both decided that it wouldn’t work out.”

“Who initiated it?” Yujin pipes up, curiosity piqued.

Hao was the one who promised to tell them all the details about the breakup, yet he feels oddly irritated by it all.

“It was…me.” He takes a deep breath in. “No hard feelings though. That’s all, really. I don’t know what else to tell you guys. We didn’t fight or anything, and we never meant to keep it from you guys, so there’s no juicy gossip. Sorry to disappoint.”

His voice has unknowingly taken on a colder edge now, unfamiliar with verbalizing his break up, and his friends glance warily at each other, sensing his discomfort.

“Hey, I know we’ve been pestering you two for details, but it’s really okay. You don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to.” Matthew says, his voice unusually serious.

“And I’m sorry if I went a little overboard with the teasing,” Gyuvin says, drooping a little bit in his seat, eyes big and wide, cheeks puffed out from when he stopped chewing on his corndog midway through. Ricky rubs his back comfortingly.

“No, no,” Hao hurriedly corrects, pained by the apologetic looks on his friends’ faces. “I wasn’t offended or anything. I—we didn’t mind.” He nudges Hanbin, who has been unbearably silent, with his elbow. “Right?”

Hanbin purses his lips and nods slowly. He finally looks up and smiles a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s all good, guys. I know you guys are curious. But trust me, there’s no bad blood between us. I still lo—” he coughs, as if suddenly choking on something. Jiwoong passes him a glass of water and he chugs it down in big gulps.

The whole table waits for him to speak again as he sets down his water on the table. His fingers tighten around the glass. “We’re just better off as friends,” he finishes.

It’s the first time hearing Hanbin say this—of course it is, it’s the first time they’ve ever even spoken of their breakup. But still, the words feel like a stab to the heart. Hao tries his best not to let it show on his face, but he thinks his eyes may have twitched a little bit. His gut twists uncomfortably, and every dish on the table suddenly looks utterly revolting. He looks down at his calloused fingertips, swallows down the sour taste in his mouth, the acid that has begun to pool.

“Yeah,” he echoes, voice wobbly.

The table is silent now, only the background noises of the bustling festival around them.

Ricky hums into the soju glass pressed against his lips and says, after much thought, “I’m not gonna lie, you two were awful at hiding the fact that something was wrong.”

“Damn,” Yujin snorts.

“Oh, they’re gonna get you,” Gyuvin whispers in fear.

Hao snaps out of his sorrowful daze and narrows his eyes at Ricky. “What’s up with that, by the way?” He points an accusing finger around the table. “I was under the impression that none of you knew.”

“It’s not even our fault,” Taerae snickers. “You two aren’t the most subtle at hiding your discomfort.”

“So you all…knew? This entire time?” Hao squints at the dancers, his finger still raised. They nod back at him like bobbleheads. “Why did you all react that way in the dressing room today then?

Ricky pushes Hao’s hand back down to his side. “Okay, let me clarify before you jump someone. It was a theory that we made. But since you two never explicitly said anything, we just let it go.”

“Until this afternoon, when you corrected me. I wasn’t expecting you to do that. I don’t think any of us were.” Gunwook glances at Matthew, who flashes him a thumbs up and nods at him to keep going like a supportive parent. Gunwook continues on bravely. “Our reactions were probably so strong because you had finally confirmed something we have all been thinking about for a while now.”

Jiwoong shifts in his seat so he’s facing Hao directly. “Also, we’re your best friends. We know you two better than you think. It’d be ridiculous if we didn’t suspect anything.”

Hao is truly at a loss of words. He’s been completely bamboozled by his friends. The same friends who have done some of the stupidest things known to mankind including somehow managing to burn instant ramen by forgetting to put water in. There is an element of embarrassment that comes with this realization. He kind of wishes the floor beneath him would collapse and send him straight to the core of the earth to rid him of this shame.

Hanbin shakes his head, voicing Hao’s thoughts. “How embarrassing for us.”

Us. Just the word alone unwillingly sends shivers through Hao’s body. The implication that they’re still a duo, a something together. He hears waves of blood in his ears, drowning out all the background noise.

“Ugh, I can’t take this anymore. Pour me a shot,” Hao mutters to no one in particular, to anyone who’ll hear him.

Next to him, Hanbin shifts to move, but Jiwoong is faster. He slides the soju glass with practiced ease and Hao downs the shot in one go, immediately motioning with his fingers for another.

“Shit, did we break him?”

“Don’t say the ‘b word.’ You’ll trigger him.”

Someone laughs. “Damn, good one.”

Hao’s too dizzy to even retort anything back. He downs the next shot and ignores Hanbin’s concerned stare burning into the side of his face.

__________

Somehow, they all end up heading to Hao’s apartment after dinner, for an afterparty of sorts. He’s not sure how he ended up hosting, maybe it had landed on his turn to host their gatherings. He had been too drunk to comprehend, and blindly agreed. Like he mentioned, his friends take their hangouts pretty seriously, with a spreadsheet made by Gunwook that clarifies the hosts for each date. They’re a little bit strange, but it works.

Arms full with snacks and three six-packs of beer, they enter his kitchen. The walk home had cleared up Hao’s mind a bit, and he no longer feels as drowsy. Unfortunately, with the high gone, he now feels too drained to host. So much so that he doesn’t even slap Yujin’s hands away when he reaches for a can of beer. He’s not in the mood for parenting tonight, though, just to be clear, Yujin is still very much his son.

Hao leans against his kitchen counter, barely listening to a tipsy and suddenly extremely talkative Ricky rant.

“–and then Gyuvin ignored me for five hours after I returned from my date. Which, obviously, I called him out on because seriously? Five whole hours? That’s a little bit excessive.”

“You were gone for seven hours of the day!” Gyuvin protests.

“You ruined our dinner plans!” Ricky slaps Gyuvin’s arm with a little bit too much force. Gyuvin pouts and Ricky rubs the spot where he just hit, an action that contradicts his harsh words and expression.

“What is this, a couple’s quarrel?” Gunwook pipes up, causing both Ricky and Gyuvin to direct their glares toward him instead.

Hao zones out after that, and isn’t quite sure how much time has passed until he hears Ricky’s concerned voice. “Ge?”

Hao blinks himself out of his daze and glances around, realizing that the crowd has slightly dispersed as they sing karaoke along with Taerae, who has climbed up onto the dining table. He looks to his right where Ricky’s scrutinizing eyes scan him up and down like some wild zoo attraction. “Um. I–yeah?” he sputters.

“Are you okay?”

How many times has he been asked this today? It’s ridiculous. What makes them think he isn’t okay? Because he is—he’s perfectly okay. The okay-est he’s ever been. The most okay person in the world. In fact, any stranger would look at him and think to themselves, ‘Wow, that person looks tremendously okay!’

“Of course,” Hao replies, too fast.

Ricky pauses and takes a sip out of his can of strawberry seltzer. Hao’s not even sure where he got that from, he doesn’t remember ever buying strawberry seltzer. “Gyuvin bought this for me at the convenience store on the way here.” Ricky offers coolly as an explanation.

Right.

“It’s because I’m driving us back tonight.” Ricky squints at Hao. “Don’t make up any weird scenarios in your head. I can see that stupid smirk on your face beginning to form.”

Riiiiight.

After a lot of standing around and half-hearted replies, Hao makes an excuse about retrieving something from the living room and leaves the buzzing energy from the kitchen and Jiwoong’s weirdly accurate rendition of Dance Monkey. The living room is dark and perfect for a moment to recharge. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lamp—the light slipping in from the kitchen is enough.

He flops down on his couch and listens to his friends’ boisterous voices. He loves them, he truly does, but he cannot find it within himself to stay with them in the kitchen. There are many moments like this where he wonders why they still keep him around when he gets worn out so easily, when he’s always the first to leave.

“Hey,” comes a voice from behind the couch. “You good?”

Hao tilts his head up to see who it is, though he doesn’t really need to. He knows who it is, from the tingly feeling that unconsciously spreads throughout his limbs. He’s about to morph his expression into a smile and feign energy, but it’s Hanbin, who can see past all his lies, who had always found him when he felt drained.

He shakes his head weakly and mumbles with a pout forming on his lips, “Tired.”

Hanbin chuckles softly. “Yeah, I thought so.” A pause. “Mind if I join you?”

Hao shakes his head again, and slides over to make room. His couch isn’t quite a couch—more like a loveseat instead, and for the umpteenth time today, they end up closer than they have in the past three months, shoulders almost overlapping. Hao allows himself to lean into Hanbin’s warmth just a little bit.

Neither of them speak, only listening to the laughs that echo throughout the apartment. It’s a surprise Hao’s never received any noise complaints.

“Today was weird,” Hanbin says finally.

It catches Hao off-guard, and he snorts ungracefully. “That’s one way to put it.”

“But a good kind of weird,” Hanbin clarifies.

Huh. Hao can think of a list of adjectives to describe today, and ‘good’ is not remotely near any of the words on there. “Why do you say that?”

Hanbin breathes out loudly, answering Hao with a question of his own. “How long were we going to leave things unsaid?”

Hao, in all honesty, would not have minded if they had just buried their breakup into the depths of hell, but Hanbin has always been the braver one. The more righteous one.

“Mm,” is all he can reply with.

“You were beating yourself up for saying anything to Gunwook at all, but I’m kind of glad you did.”

“Really?”

Hanbin nods, his hair sweeping over his eyes. “It felt liberating in a way.”

Hao doesn’t know what to think about his statement. Did he mean that it was liberating to not be romantically associated with him anymore? Or that it was liberating to finally drop the act around their friends? He hopes it was the latter, but he’s not brave enough to ask.

They fall into silence again. Somewhere down the hallway, Taerae moos loudly, and is followed by many crass words from Matthew. In the darkness of the living room, Hao can see the fondness sparkle in Hanbin’s eyes. All of a sudden, Hao feels terribly sorry for Hanbin, like he’s holding him up somehow. He has always been one step behind, moving with uncertainty, never able to rest assured.

“Are you going to join them?” He asks, timidly, afraid of whatever response will come out of Hanbin’s mouth.

“Do you want me to?”

Hao knows he should say yes, but he also knows that he’s a selfish person at times, and this is one of those times. He opens his mouth, the words stuck in the back of his throat, then closes it again, leaving Hanbin unanswered.

Something crashes in the kitchen, and is followed by piercing screams of Taerae’s name, no doubt pinning the blame onto him in an attempt to rile him up. It works too well though, because Taerae’s loud retaliation comes charging soon, and numerous gasps are heard immediately after.

“Do you want us to leave earlier tonight?” Hanbin asks when there’s no response. “You look like you might need some space.”

Hao curls in on himself. “Does it make me a bad person if I say yes?”

“Not at all.” Leaning his head over ever so slightly, Hanbin catches Hao’s gaze unwaveringly. “You know how they are. They’ll pretend to complain for a bit, but they’ll understand.”

“Okay then,” Hao purses his lips together, a request brimming at the tip of his tongue. He peeks shyly through his lashes and wills himself to be a bit braver when he asks, “Can we stay like this for a little bit longer though?” His heart beats so loud he’s sure Hanbin can hear it over the noisiness of their friends.

But Hanbin replies, firm yet mellow, bringing a warmth and steadiness that Hao misses every day.

“Of course.”

__________

Hanbin manages to shoo all the boys out of the house in such a diplomatic manner that they don’t even whine about it. They glance collectively at Hanbin, standing at the doorway of the kitchen, and Hao, lingering a little bit behind, doused in fatigue, and that’s all it takes for them to gather their belongings and bid them a good night.

Hao feels lighter already, though his stomach is heavy with guilt. He heads towards his now empty kitchen and hears Hanbin’s padded footsteps following.

“You want some after-dinner-dinner?” Hao’s back is turned towards Hanbin as he reaches up high into the kitchen cabinet for some boxed spaghetti. He blames his exhaustive state for even asking this question. Really, he’s not thinking at all when he asks.

After-dinner-dinner is a long time tradition of theirs, when they’d spend some alone time together after their mandatory dinners with their friends. Perhaps it is out of habit that Hao asks Hanbin to stay. He’s not quite sure why. It’s been a long day. But he’s hopeful that Hanbin will stay. He’s not quite sure why he’s hopeful either. He feels terribly disoriented.

What he knows is this: something rather faintly has mended between him and Hanbin, and maybe this is what gives him the false confidence that they are closer than they have been in three months.

When his fingers find the box, he turns around with a small grin and says, “It’ll have to be pasta, of course. You know that’s the only thing I can cook.” Hanbin likes his cooking though, and he’s confident that he’s improved since the last time he cooked for him.

However, there’s no response from the boy across from him. Only a small smile and a whisper that’s powerful enough to make its way into Hao’s gut where it twists and turns. “Thank you, but…I don’t think I can stay tonight, Hao.”

Hao’s heart drops all the way to the bottom of his feet.

Of course. Because even if they try not to act like it, things have changed between them, and there's something larger than his understanding that is holding them back. And it’s really unfair of Hao to ask a man, who really shouldn’t have anything to do with him anymore, to stay any longer than he has to. Stupid, stupid Hao! When will he remember to treat Hanbin like an actual ex? To act like an ex for once? They may be on good terms, they may share their moments of vulnerability, but they’re still exes, and there’s a reason for that.

He returns a meek smile of his own and carefully sets down the pasta box on the kitchen counter, avoiding looking anywhere else. Heading towards the door to see Hanbin out, Hao brushes past him without sparing a glance.

“Well, thanks for today, and everything—you know, kicking them out and everything. Um, I’ll see you around.” He stammers awkwardly, propping the door open with his hand, ensuring he never makes eye contact with Hanbin. He’s afraid that his immense disappointment will be evident in his eyes.

The events today have not been optimal, and though Hao may have felt like they’ve fixed something today, Hanbin may have an entirely different perspective. Today could have been one major inconvenience to him.

Hao had been so foolish to think that Hanbin would stay. He doesn’t cry, but it feels like he’s close. The cause of his stinging eyes, if it is borne from his stupidity or something entirely different, remains unknown. He’s not that eager to find out.

Hanbin slips into his sneakers and lingers at the door for just a moment longer. Hao can feel his eyes roaming up and down his own body. He keeps his eyes trained at his feet and watches Hanbin shuffle around out of his peripheral vision.

There’s a sigh before Hanbin quietly says, “Goodnight, Hao.”

And then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him, and Hao is left alone in the doorway, the only light source emanating from his kitchen. He promptly shuts off the light, plunging himself into a comforting darkness. There’s no point in having an after-dinner-dinner by himself when it was something created to share.

He washes up distractedly, allowing the water to run longer than it should, before tending to the shampooing of his auburn hair, the soaping of his soft skin. Entering his bedroom, he flicks off the bedside lamp and lies down on the edge of his bed, closing his eyes. He can’t be bothered to dry his hair tonight. The water droplets drip from the strands of his wet hair and onto his sheets, and he falls asleep in an uncomfortable dampness, plagued by his dreams that night.

In his dreams, he’s making Hanbin buttered noodles, and nothing bad has happened to them yet.

__________

The breakup happens a week before winter break, amidst the piles upon piles of final exams and projects, of heightened frustration and burnout and self-loathing. Sometimes, Hao wonders if that may have played a role in his decisions. But his deep rooted insecurities began to sprout like weeds way before that, earlier than he’d like to admit, so perhaps not.

They break up quietly, in the middle of the week—on a Wednesday, to be exact. It’s late at night when the words are uttered out of Hao’s mouth, and they’re laying side by side on Hanbin's twin sized bed in pitch black darkness when he agrees. Hao doesn’t get the chance of seeing his face, only hearing a soft murmur of confirmation.

Nothing happens after that. They fall asleep on the same bed, as usual, only this time they’re not on top of each other any more. Instead, they each hug the edges of the bed, half of their bodies dangling off the side.

In the morning, Hao wakes up with a sore shoulder, gathers his things, and says goodbye. He returns to his dorm and continues about his day—a day just like any other. He goes to classes, eats lunch with Ricky, locks himself in a music room to practice his violin for his upcoming recital. The only difference is that he silences his notifications from Hanbin, before realizing that it’s a little bit silly to do so, since he probably wouldn’t be sending him anything. But he still does so anyway, as an act of defiance. Against who or what exactly? He’s not quite sure either.

Their no communication period lasts a brief two and a half days, as they are forcefully brought together by their friends for their mandatory-no-excuse weekly dinners. Hao tries his best to act normal, smiley and upbeat when appropriate, but he can’t help but drown in the immense guilt when he looks at Hanbin.

It’s not fair—it takes two to break up, and Hanbin had agreed so easily, confirming Hao’s suspicions that he had felt the same all along. So why was Hao the only one who seemed to carry so much regret within? Hanbin moved around so easily, so lightly, looked so much more put together than Hao felt, his insides an ugly churning every day.

He wants to hate Hanbin, wants to avoid him, wants to do all that a pair of conventional exes would do—burn his belongings, block him on every platform—but Hanbin isn’t just any ex. So they make a silent promise to never acknowledge it, to bury it somewhere unretrievable. They never mention it to their friends. They continue as usual, with a little more distance in between, seeing each other once a week instead of daily, trying their hardest to avoid eye contact, to pretend they don’t feel their hearts lurching for each other.

Before they know it, three months pass by just like that.

__________

Hao’s been thinking of Hanbin a lot more than usual since four days ago when they had sat side by side in the darkness, since his after-dinner-dinner invitation was brutally rejected. He pretends it doesn’t sting, but he’s, admittedly, a little bit butthurt. He can’t find it within himself to be mature about this rejection. He has always been the more immature one anyways, so there’s no use pretending he’s suddenly gone through some character development.

He finds himself scoffing throughout the day when thinking of Hanbin’s refusal. He’s blowing things out of proportion, he knows, but he can’t help but think if it were Hanbin who had asked him to say, he would have said yes in a heartbeat.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Hanbin never asked him to say, not even when it mattered the most, three months ago. So really, what did Hao expect at all?

He blames his pettiness for the reason why he’s late. It’s definitely not because he spends too much time staring at his reflection in the mirror and makes three different outfit changes. As someone who strives to always be punctual, Hao is the last one to arrive at the cafe, for some very peculiar and unknown reason.

From across the street, he can see the outline of his friends inside the cafe through the large translucent window. Hanbin on one end of the booth with Gyuvin and Ricky across from him, suspiciously close to each other.

The bell above his head rings as soon as he enters, and Hanbin is the first to spot him, raising his hand up to acknowledge his presence, Gyuvin and Ricky’s heads swivelling around in sync to greet him. Hao drops his bag on the bench, next to Hanbin, and digs around for his wallet.

“One second,” he says, fumbling through his bag. “I’ll go order first.”

Hanbin clears his throat before placing his hand on the bench in Hao’s line of sight to get his attention. “It’s okay. We, uh, ordered for you. Hot milk tea with fifty percent sugar, right?”

Hao pauses, arm still deep in his bag. “Oh,” he raises his head, pleasantly surprised, to look at his friends. “Yeah, that’s right. How did you guys remember?”

“Obviously we didn’t. Hanbi—” Ricky begins, but Hanbin cuts him off, his natural blush a deeper shade than normal.

“We just remembered because you used to mention it all the time.”

Hmm. Did he now?

He’s not sure if he likes the look Gyuvin shoots Ricky and the way they elbow each other.

Finally pulling out his wallet that’s been stubbornly hiding in one of his bag’s inner pockets, he asks: “Well, okay, so who do I have to pay back?”

“Hanbin hyung, he was the one who ordered for you before we even arrived.” Gyuvin inspects Hao’s face carefully as he makes a big show of pointing at Hanbin, before Ricky shoves a spoonful of mango bingsu into his mouth.

“Shut up and eat.”

“Mmph–” Gyuvin grumbles, cheeks puffed out.

“You don’t have to pay me back, it’s alright,” Hanbin rushes to say, his expression almost sheepish for some reason. The nervous tightening of his fingers against his ceramic mug and the way he pretends to admire the view out the window does not go unnoticed. He’s acting so uncharacteristically shy that Hao begins to grow shy as well, feeling like he’s been caught doing something he’s not supposed to, acting a way he’s not supposed to.

He slowly tucks his wallet back into a pocket and places his bag between them on the bench as he slides in, self conscious from the way Ricky and Gyuvin peer at him curiously.

A waitress comes by and places his milk tea on the table in front of him. He thanks her with a smile and takes a small sip of his drink. It’s exactly the way he likes it, and it makes him feel a little sick inside, stomach twisting into tight knots.

Hao clears his throat, pushes every uneasy thought away, and plasters on a fake smile. “So, why did you two want to see us today?”

Gyuvin and Ricky share a knowing look and an evil grin, and Hao feels an incoming wave of dread.

__________

They somehow end up alone in the cafe, just the two of them, many thanks to Gyuvin and Ricky’s scheming.

He’s not stupid. He knows their flight to Shanghai isn’t until midnight, and he knows why they’ve purposefully left so early. Their giggles as they run out of the cafe hand in hand do little to hide their obvious intent.

Hao’s grateful that he’s sitting next to Hanbin as opposed to across, so that they don’t have to look into each other’s faces. He doesn’t want to see what expression Hanbin is making, and desperately prays that his face doesn’t give away much of the storm brewing up inside him.

“So, what have you been up to?” Hanbin begins, scratching his cheek. Hao cringes at the awkwardness of his question.

“Not much,” he answers quickly. “Just a lot of practicing and the usual, you know?” He waves his hand around in the air to gesture everything he’s been up to for the past four days—nothing. A lot of moping. And scoffing. And thinking of stupid Hanbin and the stupid embarrassment of his stupid rejection, the shame sending waves of heat coursing through his body every so often.

He takes another sip out of his cup before realizing he’s finished his drink. Setting down his drink, he discreetly angles it away from Hanbin so he doesn’t notice. Too bad Hanbin has always been extremely perceptive.

“Did you want another?” He asks, eyes strangely gentle.

Hao pushes his cup away from him with a sigh. “No. And even if I did, I’d pay for it myself. You don’t have to be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Weirdly nice. You’re always so weirdly nice. It’s weird.” Hao doesn’t know why he’s acting so rude. It’s been a humiliating few days for him, and if there’s one thing he cannot tolerate in the world, it’s shame. Unfortunately, his mouth always moves before he can even pause to think, and this is the method it decides to use to counter the past few days of mortification.

Hanbin, thankfully, takes no offense at all. Instead, he laughs heartily, amused at Hao’s attitude. “Why are you so sulky?”

Hao blurts out before he can stop himself: “Why did you reject me?”

It’s moments like these that makes him wish he could tape his mouth shut.

“Reject you?” Hanbin tilts his head to one side, confused. “What do you mean?”

Hao feels his face burn, igniting with flames. “Our after-dinner-dinner,” he manages to croak out hoarsely, burrowing his face in his hands. He wants to crawl into a hole and die. Maybe if he stays in this position forever, Hanbin will eventually leave and he can just peacefully pass away here, cemented in his embarrassment. They’ll have to carry him in this shameful position as they place him in his casket but even then, that doesn’t seem like a bad alternative.

“I didn’t reject you.” Hanbin’s voice sounds closer now, but Hao is too afraid to remove his hands from his face to confirm. “Is that what it seemed like?”

“Please just forget everything I said.” The heat from his face seems to have spread to his palms as well, surprisingly. Hao, who is perpetually cold even during the summer, has now transformed into a human furnace. Maybe he’ll burn to death here in this cafe. That also seems like a kinder fate than continuing this conversation.

“I told you, it’s not like I didn’t want to stay.”

“That’s enough,” Hao groans into his sweaty palms. “Do us both a favor and spare us from this conversation.”

“Hao, listen to me. Please.” Hanbin sounds a little bit exasperated and all of a sudden, Hao feels guilty all at once again. He’s always guilty around Hanbin. He will never not feel guilty when they’re together.

He purses his lips together and peeks through his fingers. Hanbin has, in fact, leaned in, his face a mere centimeters away. “Go ahead.”

Hanbin pinches the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t I tell you that day in the dressing room that I would be spending a few nights with my family instead of the entire break?”

Hao nods slowly, not quite sure if he follows. “So?”

“So I couldn’t stay that night because I had to get up insanely early at the literal asscrack of dawn the next morning to drive back home. Like I said, it’s not because I didn’t want to. I couldn’t.”

“Oh.”

Hao feels incredibly stupid, to say the least. He had been silently fuming over Hanbin’s rejection for the past four days only to find out that it had only been a perceived rejection on his end because of the absence of common sense. God. Will he ever stop humiliating himself?

“Bro,” he finally says, for a lack of better words.

Hanbin blinks, then frowns, confused. “Did you just call me ‘bro?’”

“Yes, you’ve been reduced to bro status.” Hao is just saying anything that pops into mind now, and unfortunately, his mind is currently supplying him with Matthew’s daily lingo.

“Dude, what does that even mean?”

Hao jolts in offense. “Hey, don’t dude, me.”

“Well don’t bro me then.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Truce.” Hao concedes, putting out a hand for Hanbin to shake in agreement. Hanbin’s hand slips easily into his, lingering slightly after giving him a firm shake. Hao’s hand blooms with a warmth that spreads up his arms.

It’s so easy for him to apologize as a joke, when it doesn’t mean anything, but so immensely difficult to cross the hurdle and apologize for his attitude, for that would mean admitting to himself that he had been wrong. But Hanbin deserves many, many apologies, and Hao should offer at least this one. He forcibly swallows down his pride and tacks on a weak, “And I’m sorry for…assuming. That wasn’t cool of me.”

Hanbin blinks as if he can’t believe his ears. “Wow. An apology from Hao Hao. How rare. Should I get a bottle of champagne to celebrate?”

Hao ducks his head, face flushed at both the teasing and the usage of his old nickname. “Come on,” he whines.

A chuckle escapes Hanbin’s lips. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Thank you, though.”

Hao studies the man beside him, at the way he comfortably sits in the booth, muscles relaxed, slightly slumped in a way that makes him look open and inviting. This is how he should be: carefree, at ease. This is how he should always be, but Hao can’t seem to remember the last time he’s seen Hanbin without any visible tension, an imperceptible rigidity, invisible to the naked eye but not to Hao.

“I know I’m not that good at apologizing. I’m trying to get better.” He doesn’t know why he shares this information with Hanbin, doesn’t know what he’s trying to imply, what he’s hoping to achieve. He just wants Hanbin to know that he’s trying, that he’s learned. That he knows he was wrong. That it has always been his fault. That it was always, always him, and never Hanbin.

Staring at the empty cup before him, Hao’s voice tremors as he whispers, “Trust me, Bin-ah. Slowly, I’m getting better,” Hanbin’s old nickname leaving his tongue far too comfortably.

The sound of a ceramic mug set against a wooden table. The creaking of the cushion’s springs as Hanbin shifts. The ring of the bell above the door as another customer enters. Hao hears all of this all too clearly, senses suddenly sharpened as if he’s warped around the room, engulfing the scene whole.

Hanbin releases a long, shaky breath as he leans back into his seat. “That’s good, Hao. That’s good.”

__________

It’s dark when they leave the cafe, having unknowingly spent hours in there, catching up and talking about whatever, like they used to. Time flies when they’re together, as long as Hao can overcome his guilt and forget for even just a moment that they’ve broken up. Is it morally wrong to gaslight himself into believing he’s still dating his ex? Probably, but if that’s the only way he can stay sane when sitting side by side with Hanbin, engaging in conversation for hours, then so be it.

Hao wraps himself tightly in his sweater and watches Hanbin in his jeans and t-shirt that dips below his collarbones, exposing the tattoo that Hao will never get tired of admiring. “I will never understand how you don’t get cold.”

“I’m just built different,” Hanbin smirks playfully.

“Ew what the hell?” Hao makes a face, scrunching his nose. “Did you learn that from Yujin? Make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

Hanbin throws his head back and laughs. “Okay, come on you big hater. I have an extra coat in my car.”

Car?

Hanbin’s car?

Hao pauses in his steps, his eyebrows knitting together. “Um. What?”

“What?” Hanbin asks, pure confusion in his eyes.

“Your car?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Are you,” Hao licks his lips. “Driving me home?”

Hanbin raises his eyebrows. “How else would you be getting home?”

“By walking? To a bus stop? And taking the bus back? The way I came here?” Hao’s voice pitches up awkwardly at the end of every sentence, sounding more and more unsure with every word.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hanbin rolls his eyes. “Come on, aren’t you cold?” Hao is cold, and Hanbin doesn’t give him much of a choice as he begins making his way to his car in the parking lot.

Hao climbs into the passengers seat cautiously and sinks into the cushiony leather seat. Three months ago, he would have been sinking into the seat for different reasons, Hanbin’s arms caged around him, face in his neck.

“Here,” Hanbin’s voice cuts through his sinful thoughts. His eyes shine with an odd amount of anticipation as he passes Hao an oversized white zip-up which he had retrieved from the backseat. Much to Hao’s dismay, he recognizes which zip-up it is immediately. This used to be a staple of Hanbin’s closet that he would steal all the time. Why Hanbin looks at him so expectantly, he does not know.

“I’m not that cold anymore,” he lies and hopes his shivering isn’t that visible.

Hanbin arm dangles in front of him, the zip-up still in his hands. His expression falls, no doubt seeing right past Hao’s lie. He shrugs, tossing the zip-up into the backseat again when he realizes Hao is still stubbornly refusing. “I’ll turn on the seat warmer for you,” he decides as he clicks a few buttons. He shifts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking spot.

Hao glances out the window, catching sight of an airplane’s blinking light in the sky.

“Gyuvin and Ricky are probably on that plane right now, on the way to Shanghai.” Hao remarks obtusely.

“Can you believe they finally got their act together?”

“Yeah, props to them.”

“Shit,” Hanbin curses suddenly, alarming Hao. He swivels his head to the side, and for a second, Hao worries that he’s come to his senses and is about to kick him off the car. However, what Hanbin says instead is: “We should’ve asked them who made the first move. Didn’t we have fifty dollars on the line back then?”

Hao barks out a laugh to hide the relief that floods his body. “You’re right. You should get ready to pay up. It was definitely Gyuvin.”

“Nah, come on, have some faith in Ricky.”

Hao snorts. “Please, I had to sit through months of his complaints about how he’s too worried he’ll ‘ruin the friendship.’ He would have never made the first move.”

“Gyuvin wasn’t much better,” Hanbin flicks on his blinker, turning smoothly out of the parking lot. “He asked me to help him with a damn manifestation ritual. With candles and all. I’d like to believe that that was his last resort in place of confessing.”

Hao doubles over in laughter, and Hanbin joins in with a few quiet chuckles. “God, we were never that extra were we?” Hao’s laugh dies out immediately as he realizes what he’s just said.

Well shit, now Hanbin might really kick him off his car. This is the consequence of pretending to still date your ex in your head, he supposes. It becomes hard to discern between reality and dream after a while.

“Ah, I mean–”

“Nah, we were on top of our shit.” Hanbin’s eyes are trained ahead on the road, turning away to check his blind spots before merging. It’s a good thing that he does this. Hao doesn’t have to see what kind of expression he’s making. If he’s wincing, or pulling his lips into that fake smile that Hao has become so accustomed to. “We knew what we wanted back then.”

Hao slumps down into his seat, stewing in frustration. How does he always manage to ruin the mood? Every single time that air turns awkward and stiff, it’s always because of him. Always because he can’t let go of the past, because he is a creature of habit, because he is unadaptable to the present. Why must he be so selfish, clinging onto Hanbin like a goddamn parasite?

Being the overly sensitive person that he is, he can feel himself on the verge of tears, beginning to breathe heavily, heart racing as his mind churns out phrases of self-hatred. He sits facing the window instead, willing his mind to go blank and praying that none of this turmoil appears on his face.

Hanbin taps his shoulder gently as they stop at a red light. Hao pretends to sniff from the cold, and looks at him through glazed eyes. Hanbin must see through it all though, he always does.

“Hao, it’s okay.” Hanbin offers him a sympathetic smile. “Just mark your calendar for the day Ricky and Gyuvin return so you can pay up your fee of fifty dollars.”

Hao’s pout forms a downwards parabola as he tries to suppress the tremble of his lips. He doesn’t know why, but this playful joke is what makes him want to cry the most—the reassurance that Hanbin still, at the very least, does not hate him no matter how much he may hate himself. Hanbin, who sees right through him, who is kinder to Hao than Hao is to himself. A lump lodges in his throat, and he blinks the tears that have begun to well up away.

“Oh Hao Hao,” Hanbin says with a doting smile that makes his face glow warmly. His eyes are filled with so much affection as he half chuckles and half whispers: “My crybaby hyung.”

Hao pulls down the hood of his sweater to hide his face, slightly ashamed that that’s all it takes for him to silently weep the whole ride home.

__________

The first thought that crosses Hao’s mind when he wakes up is that the saying, absence makes the heart grow fonder, is stupidly accurate.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about Hanbin since he dropped him off at home that night after the cafe with doting smiles and words. But this isn’t anything new. He hasn’t stopped thinking of Hanbin ever since they broke up, and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t stopped thinking of Hanbin ever since they first met. What is different is that now, he doesn’t even try to force himself to stop. No, he openly daydreams of his ex now. That is the terrifying state he has regressed to.

They haven’t talked in two days, unless Hao’s counting the silly tiktok video of a racoon that Hanbin sent last night, attached with a ‘this is literally you’ message. It’s only been forty eight hours, but Hao thinks that it’s time to take up Hanbin on his offer to hang out over spring break.

Hopefully, he wasn’t just saying that out of courtesy, though. Rolling over on his bed, his hands find his phone on his bedside table.

Hao 9:27
hey

Hanbin 9:28
What’s up?

Hao 9:28
just wondering if ur busy today

The three dots signifying that Hanbin’s typing appears, then disappears. Hao frowns, wondering if he shouldn’t have been so direct. It probably wasn’t very smart of him to ask.

Not even a second later, Hao’s ringtone blasts at full volume, and his phone almost slips out of his grip in surprise. Hao sits up and hugs his red panda plushie, his heart pounding. Not wanting to seem too eager, he waits for the phone to ring four times before answering.

“Hello?” He answers, trying to seem unaffected.

“Hey,” Hanbin’s voice cracks through from the other end amidst the sounds of running water and the clanging of cutlery. “Sorry, I thought it’d be easier to call since I’m doing the dishes right now. My hands are kinda busy. Oh shit, I just dropped the whole bottle of dish soap into the sink. Great, now the bottle is all sticky. Holy fu-” A loud splash. “My Scrub Daddy is being put to work.”

“Oh,” Hao winces as he listens to Hanbin report the state of his dishes in detail along with the mix of the background noises. It’s not the most pleasant mashup. “Er–No worries. Take your time.”

The running water in the background shuts off with a squeak, and Hanbin’s voice rings clearer than before. “So what’s up?”

“Um,” Hao clears his throat to rid himself of his hesitation. “I was just wondering if you want to hang out today.”

“Oh?” Hanbin sounds surprised. There’s a long pause, and Hao begins to grow nervous. He wouldn’t say no, would he? Had he just been offering his company previously to seem cordial? Is that what an ex is supposed to do?

Hao braces for rejection, squeezing his eyes shut when he hears Hanbin take a breath on the other end in preparation to speak.

“Sounds good, I’d be down for that.”

Oh my god.

Hao sprawls across on his bed once again in relief. He hugs his plushie a little bit tighter and breathes in deeply to calm his painfully fast heart.

Hanbin speaks again. “Can I ask why, though?”

Why? Is he seriously asking that? Does Hao need a reason to want to see him? Can’t they just be attached to the hip twenty-four-seven like before? What a ridiculous question.

Oh, wait. Exes, he repeats in his mind to himself over and over again like a broken record.

He bites his lips in search of an appropriate answer.

“I’ve just been bored,” he says, as plain as possible, pretending like he hasn’t been consumed by the thought of his ex for the past few days.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, why else?”

“You didn’t miss me?”

Hao inhales sharply. Now, he’s not that updated on the rulebook for exes, but surely that’s not a question an ex should be asking. “No,” he squeaks out a lie.

“No as in ‘No, you’re wrong, I did miss you,’ or ‘No, I didn’t miss you one bit?’” He can almost see Hanbin’s lips curving up into that sly grin of his whenever he manages to fluster Hao.

“No, as in we’re fistfighting when I catch sight of you,” Hao retorts, annoyed at how much he’s being affected by Hanbin’s teasing.

Hanbin laughs heartily. “Okay, I’ll drive over in two hours or so. That should give you plenty of time to get out of bed.”

Hao’s jaw drops. He flounders around on his bed to search for his phone beneath the covers to double check that they weren’t on FaceTime. “How did you know?” He asks, accusingly, gripping his phone in his hands as he scans his walls for a hidden camera.

“You act like I haven’t witnessed you in the mornings before. Go wash up Hao, I’ll be knocking at your door before you know it.”

__________

Hao steps out of the shower, dabbing a towel against his hair with one hand, and picking up his vibrating phone with the other. He’s on somewhat of a high in anticipation of seeing Hanbin soon, and he hums a soft tune under his breath as he checks to see who is calling. He blinks once, then twice, and all semblance of joy is wiped from his face as he scrunches his eyebrows warily.

He absolutely did not expect to see the contact name to be ‘Mama.’

Now why on earth is his own mother calling him? He can’t even remember the last time they’ve had a real conversation that didn’t end in insults being thrown back and forth and an abrupt silent treatment.

Hao assumes that the beginning of his self doubt and hatred emerges early on from his own mother. Most problems stem from deep within childhood. It’s a curse to be self aware, but in a way, it’s the reason he’s managed to stay somewhat sane. Amidst his self awareness, is the belief that he is not an inherently bad person; he is merely someone who occasionally makes bad decisions out of necessity.

Still, it gets harder and harder to cling onto that belief as the days pass, and the doubt creeps in on him little by little. It’s harder to cling onto that belief as he’s reminded of his hurt, and the hurt he’s caused to the people he loves the most.

Hao doesn’t talk to his mom often. They text back and forth occasionally, to quickly check in with each other, like a dutiful mother and son. She’ll ask how his music studies are going, and he’ll tell her he’s practicing hard each day. He’ll ask if she needs him to mail anything back home, and she’ll send him a list of items.

Hao doesn’t mind, not really; this is how things have always been. He’s never been super close with his mom, despite his efforts when he was young. She wasn’t physically neglectful, just busy with herself, only really caring about him when it would benefit her image in any way. So he studied hard, won music competitions, got into a good school, and became a son she could show off. It was the least he could do, to pay her back for raising him, and the most he could do to show his appreciation.

He didn’t know how else to show that he cared. He loved her on her good days, and tried his best to stay out of her way on the bad days. He tells himself that she is easily overwhelmed by her anger, that her harsh words are empty most of the time, that she loves him, the way he loves her, silently and concealed. He used to question if it was because he is a bad son that they have such a strained relationship. But nowadays, he tries not to think about it anymore. Nothing good ever emerges from thinking too much.

It is for these reasons that his eyebrows furrow when he sees the caller ID: Mama.

Taking a deep breath, he picks up the call, jamming his phone in between his shoulder and his ear as he continues to dry his hair with his towel, though his hands move more sluggish than before.

“Hello?” His voice wobbles, giving away his unease.

“Why did you decide not to visit us?” A harsh voice comes immediately from the other end, one that Hao knows too well.

His hands stop moving in his hair. “What?”

“Everyone else’s children are back home for break. Do you know how much I have to hear from others everyday about what they’re doing with their kids?”

“Wait, ma, I’m a little confused.” Hao plops down on his bed, dropping his towel beside him. “I thought you knew I wasn’t coming back for break?”

“And why couldn’t you think of me before making that decision? You never think about anyone else except yourself.”

“What are you talking about—” he cuts himself off to ensure he doesn’t sound too demanding. His mom often reads his tone wrong and goes on tangents about his attitude, and by the time she’s done, Hao simply doesn’t know how to defend himself anymore, to explain that he didn’t mean it the way she assumed.

“Did…Did you want to see me?” He tries instead, wincing.

“Do you know how awkward it is for me to tell others that my own son decides not to come home for breaks?” His mom wails on the other end. “Every time someone asks if you’ve come back to visit, I have to ashamedly tell them no. I have to pretend like you’re too busy to come home to spend time with your dear family.”

Ah. So that’s what it was. It hurt her ego. Sometimes, Hao thinks that his mother is still a teenager, a girl who never had the chance to grow up before falling into the role of motherhood.

“Ma,” he says, gently. “It's normal for kids not to come back for break, especially when it’s a short one like spring break. Besides, it’ll be summer in just two months. I’ll be back then.”

“You always hold off on seeing us. Do you even like us at all? I just wish you wouldn’t be so cold to me all the time.” Her voice seems to echo in the room. Hao’s grip on his phone tenses.

Cold? Him? How could she possibly accuse him of being cold to her when all he’s ever craved was her love and affection? When every interaction stemmed from an abnormal desire to finally connect with her? He thinks he might go crazy.

“What are you even talking about?” He spits out angrily. He’s been careful not to yell this entire call, but he’s in such disbelief that it bursts out before he can even suppress it. He’s always made such meticulous care to ensure that he’s anything but cold to his mom.

“What I’m saying is that everyone else’s families are always reunited during the holidays. And you? There’s never a word from you, you never drop by to visit. You never call.” His mother says sharply. “It’s like you’re not even part of the family anymore.”

Hao’s throat goes dry. To be accused of something that he has tried so hard not to be feels like a slap to his face. A reminder that there will always be a degree of separation between them, that no matter how hard he tries, she will never look beneath and recognize his love and effort.

“Maybe you should be questioning why it is that I never want to go home,” he says with a quiet bitterness.

“You have no love in your heart for me. That’s why. You’re cold, and cruel, and full of hatred.” His mother’s tone is definitive, as if she’s made up her mind about his character long ago, and is searching for justification. Reasons to fit him into this mold she’s made up in her mind. There’s nothing he can really say to change her belief, but Hao is filled with so much frustration in being so completely misjudged that he stews in silence and contemplation as he listens to his mother ramble on before disrupting her.

“No, ma, the complete opposite.” Hao chokes—from anger or misery, he doesn’t know. “Because no matter how much I try to ration to myself and convince myself to hate you, I just can’t. Despite it all, I will always find myself seeking your love, trying to seem as affectionate as possible in a way that you won’t find strange and out of character, the way I have my whole life.” He hears his mom pause on the other end, stuttering out some undiscernible words, no doubt shocked by this sudden confession. He inhales deeply, and exhales shakily.

“Goodbye, mama, and I’m sorry I couldn’t see you this break. But maybe that was for the better.” Hao hangs up without allowing his mother a chance to speak. He buries his head into his hands and tugs at his hair in frustration.

He really doesn’t want to cry, especially not over a stupid argument with his mom. Besides, he only ever allows himself to cry three times a week, and he fears he’s cutting it close this week. Wednesday has just begun, and he’s already cried twice. He will not be wasting his last crying session over this, especially when he doesn’t know what awaits him in the following days.

He slaps his cheeks to snap himself out of it, and rushes to the bathroom to splash some water on his face to cool off.

__________

Hanbin shows up at his door a little past noon, dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of loose, casual jeans. The collar of his shirt dips just enough for his tattoo to peek over. Hao averts his eyes and makes a note to himself to avoid looking anywhere other than Hanbin’s forehead today, lest his eyes might wander scandalously down to his chest.

“What are the plans for today?” Hanbin asks, taking off his shoes and sliding into a pair of slippers Hao had laid out earlier for him.

“I didn’t think of any,” Hao replies honestly, scratching the back of his head. “I was hoping that you would come up with some.”

Hao had never planned any of their dates before. It was always Hanbin, eager to show off his specially curated folder of places to visit. Hao didn’t mind going anywhere if it meant that he was with Hanbin. Even before they started dating, it was always Hanbin who dragged Hao around to different cafes and libraries for ‘studying.’ Of course, they had never gotten much studying done back then.

“Lucky you, I actually did come up with some things we could do.” Hanbin says as he makes his way into the kitchen and picks out a mug before rummaging around to search for a tin of tea leaves. He moves around the apartment with such familiarity, like it’s his own home. Hao realized long ago that it’s hard to erase Hanbin from his life when he’s wedged himself into every single crack.

The mug that is currently in Hanbin’s hands was bought from their trip to Jeju last year, and though it isn’t labeled, no one is allowed to use it besides him. The slippers on his feet were a housewarming gift and came in a pair of pink and blue. They live in Hao’s closet and only ever make an appearance when Hanbin comes over. It’s hard to kill the memories attached to these items. Hao couldn’t get rid of them even if he tried. But again, he’s never tried, so he doesn’t really know.

He sits at the kitchen counter and rests his head against his fist, watching Hanbin move around with ease, pouring the boiling water from the kettle into his mug, letting the steam rise up to his face, warming his soft cheeks.

“So, what did you manage to come up with?”

Hanbin takes a sip of his tea and hums in satisfaction. “Well, I was thinking of maybe heading out to the park. We could play pickleball.” Noticing Hao’s face at the mention of any physical activity, he quickly adds, “And chill with the dogs and whatnot. Whatever you want really. The weather’s so nice today it would be a waste not to go out.”

Hao nods, content with the idea of petting fluffy dogs and cooing at the little kids at the park. “Sounds good to me.” He gets up from his stool and lifts his arms up to stretch, the hem of his hoodie lifting slightly. “Just let me change into something more suitable for going out.”

Hanbin’s eyes snap straight down into his mug, the tips of ears growing faintly red. “Okay. Yeah. Go do that.” He takes a big gulp of his tea. Hao shoots him a weird look and makes his way to his room, shutting the door behind him.

He changes out of his hoodie and opts for a tight form-fitting gray undershirt, pulling over a jean jacket. Deciding to complete the look with matching denim, he shuffles into a pair of low-waisted jeans, low enough for his boxers to peek through. He looks at himself in the mirror, satisfied. He looks hot, and a small part of him hopes that Hanbin thinks so too.

Then, he reprimands himself for even thinking so, and slaps himself in the face a few times for good measure. Shame on him for trying to seduce his ex-boyfriend!

Well, it’s not entirely for Hanbin, he rations. He’s dressing up for himself. Yes. That’s it. Nothing inappropriate here at all.

“Okay, I’m ready to go,” he calls out as he leaves his room and enters the kitchen. Hanbin, who sits at the counter, looks up from his phone and his lips part in what Hao hopes is admiration and not fright. He stares at Hao for so long that Hao begins to think that he’s looking at something behind him because what on earth could he possibly be looking at.

“Um, I’m ready. To go.” Hao repeats uneasily, shuffling in place.

Hanbin shakes his head violently, snapping himself out of his weird daze. “Right,” he clears his throat and stands up so fast that the stool is knocked off-balance from his sudden movement. He bends over and quickly rearranges the stool, placing it upright again, his ears on fire. “Uh, are you sure you’re wearing that outside? It’s a little chilly, I think.”

Hao frowns, and motions at Hanbin’s thin t-shirt. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Normally you run cold though. Why did you change out of your hoodie? I thought it was cute.” The red has spread from Hanbin’s ears all the way down to his cheeks and neck now.

“I’m okay.” Hao studies the blushy man curiously. “Besides, it’s not even that cold outside today. I checked the weather app before changing.”

“Are you sure?” Hanbin sounds like he’s almost begging Hao to change his outfit now, and Hao grows a little annoyed.

“Yes, I’m positive.” He rolls his eyes. “Now let’s go before you piss me off and I kick you out of my house.”

Hanbin follows Hao into the foyer where they slip out of their slippers and into their shoes. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t know that.” Hao says, attempting to tie his laces without bending over. His fingers fumble around clumsily as he tries to maintain balance while suspending his foot in the air.

“You literally invited me over.” Hanbin scoffs, crossing his arms. “How are you gonna invite me over and then kick me out? Also, do you need help with that?” He eyes Hao’s figure as he wiggles back and forth, trying not to fall over.

“Don’t test me.” Hao grits out through his teeth. “And yes, can you tie that for me?”

“Here, put your foot on the ground. It’s painful watching you hop around like that.” Hanbin says, dropping onto one knee to tie his shoe. He pulls the laces tight, double knotting it to ensure Hao doesn’t have to hop around embarrassingly in public. Though he’s sure that when the time comes, he’d just have Hanbin tie them again.

__________

“So…” Hanbin begins as they walk closer to the park. The path curves up a small slope before revealing the rows of tennis and basketball courts. “Pickleball?”

Hao glances at him sideways. “Are you sure you want to play pickleball with someone like me?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Um,” Hao gestures at himself. “Painfully unathletic?”

“Oh come on. You’re not that unathletic.” Hanbin starts to smirk as a memory pops into his mind. “Remember when you played basketball with Ricky and Gyuvin that one time?”

“How could I forget when that’s all you teased me about for the following month.” Hao mutters. He tries to kick the back of Hanbin’s knees in hopes that it will give out. Unfortunately, Hanbin skillfully averts his kick and sticks out his tongue.

“You were just repeatedly chucking the ball and letting Jesus take the wheel. It was the funniest thing ever. If only you could see what I saw, then you’d understand.” Hanbin openly laughs in Hao’s face now, wide grin and scrunched eyes. Hao would feel offended if the sight wasn’t horribly adorable. His heart clenches in affection.

“Yeah, yeah. You never seem to remember the part where I managed to score a point.” Hao rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. He’s struggling to conceal his smile.

“I think that was because Gyuvin felt bad.”

“Anyways,” Hao interjects, in hopes to move past all talk of his lack of athletic skill. “I’m dressed to dog watch today. Not pickleball.”

“Ah,” Hanbin’s eyes trail over his outfit. “You’re right.” He hesitates, causing Hao to look at him curiously.

“I…like your outfit today.” Hanbin tries to say casually, but his bright red ears give away the fact that he’s flustered. Hao tramples down the pride that swells in his chest. He resists a cheer. Score! Hanbin likes his outfit! Hanbin thinks he’s hot!

“Yeah?” Hao says coyly, lifting the sides of his denim jacket to reveal the peeking waistband of his boxers. “I quite like my outfit today too. Especially this—” He’s abruptly cut off by Hanbin’s hands that seemingly fly over to cover his stomach. Hao blinks at the hand covering his waist, and blinks up to look at the owner of said hand.

“Um,” Hanbin laughs nervously, breathy, like he’s surprised at his own actions. “Just…don’t do that.” He gets even redder, if that’s possible. The flush spreads from his ears to his neck where it disappears under his collar.

Hao gapes at him dumbly. “What?”

Hanbin retracts his hand, scratching the back of his head, a nervous tic. “You’ll get cold.”

Hao narrows his eyes. “You seem awfully concerned about me getting cold today.”

“You’re always complaining about being cold.” Hanbin looks away. “That’s all. I’m just preventing you from complaining later.”

“Well, I’m not cold today,” Hao shoots back, lifting his jacket once again in defiance. “Look, I’m not cold at all—”

As if a Pavlovian response, Hanbin’s hands shoot out again, covering his lower abdomen. “Stop that,” he hisses.

“You stop,” Hao responds immaturely.

“People are going to think you’re crazy.” Hanbin’s eyes dart around consciously. “Wear your jacket normally. They’re going to stare.”

“They’re going to stare at us because you’re the one acting weird.” Hao ignores Hanbin’s pleas, and lifts his jacket up even higher, exposing all of his stomach.

“You’re literally walking around while lifting up your jacket right now. I’m not the weird one here.”

“You’re being so weird right now. Why are you trying to cover—oh look!” Hao, easily distracted by cute things, lets go of his jacket to point at a dog in the distance. He hears Hanbin let out a loud sigh of relief next to him.

“Yes, what is it?” Hanbin lets his hands drop by his side, giving up his post of furiously hiding Hao’s body.

“Isn’t that dog so cute!” Hao turns to him in excitement. “Oh my gosh, that actually might be the cutest dog I’ve ever seen.”

Hanbin eyes light up in adoration once he locates the dog. “Awww,” he coos, the corner of his lips tugging down to form a pout.

“I know right? I’m literally getting cuteness aggression right now. I want to stuff that dog in my pocket.” Hao makes grabby hands in the air, as if he can pluck the dog out from his owner’s grasp and tuck him into his backpocket.

Hanbin nods along eagerly, sharing the same sentiment. “Damn, that is one cute dog. Hey, don’t you think that looks like SanSan?”

Hao almost trips over his own feet.

SanSan. Their hypothetical dog. More specifically, the hypothetical dog that they had planned to raise together in the future, back when they had still been together. The hypothetical dog that they had made major hypothetical accommodations for in their hypothetical future apartment, back when nothing had seemed like a hypothetical, but simply a plan in development. A plan that had yet to set sail. A plan that they knew with absolute certainty would commence sometime in the near future, and it was only a matter of when.

“R-right,” Hao stutters, regaining his balance. “SanSan.” The name feels strange on his lips, a combination of sounds he hasn’t made in a long time.

Hanbin doesn’t seem to realize the weight of his words yet, as he continues on. “You’ve always liked fluffy dogs. I think that dog is a little bit bigger than SanSan though. SanSan is slightly smaller, isn’t he?” The smile slides off his face and a look of understanding takes over once he notices that Hao has lost his previous energy and gone quiet.

“Oh,” Hanbin quietly murmurs. “I didn’t mean to do that.” That, referring to the emission of nameless waves of grief that seem to wash over Hao at any mention of the past because he’s just so utterly weak, because he can’t bear to think of the promises that were made back when forever had felt like a reality.

Hao shakes his head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just…” He trails off. Weirdly sentimental? Overly sensitive? Still not over you? None of these seem like good options to say out loud.

“I’m sorry,” Hanbin chews on his bottom lip. “I should watch what I say.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Hao tries to assure him, but his voice comes out cracky and thin. “You don’t have to tiptoe around me, I promise. In fact, I don’t want you to tiptoe around me, ever. It just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Hanbin’s eyes flicker downwards, staring at the gravel pathway. “It makes me a little sad sometimes, too,” he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement. “It’s not just you, Hao. Don’t worry.”

Hao inhales sharply. “Oh,” he says, breathlessly. The admission brings him much more relief than he’d like to admit. Hanbin kicks at a pebble on the ground. He looks so unconfident in himself that it’s a jarring sight.

Hao has been a little self-centered, he realizes belatedly. To think that he was suffering alone through the breakup would mean to have doubted Hanbin’s fierce sincerity in love. But Hao’s self-doubt was always stronger than his faith, by an overwhelming amount, and it had gotten increasingly hard to believe that Hanbin had felt anything other than frustration with him. But now his heart lightens a little, with the knowledge that he is not the only one drowned in sadness with every reference to their relationship, that everything they had been through together had not been one-sided.

“I’m new to all this…exes stuff, so I don't really know how to act properly,” Hanbin chuckles humorlessly. “I unintentionally bring up the past because sometimes it feels like I’m still living it when I’m with you. And it makes me immensely sad when I remember the things we had talked about back then. I think I’m just a nostalgic person, maybe? I don’t know. But I just wanted to let you know that it all means something to me too. That I think about us a lot too—our essence, our promises, what we were. Everything.”

Hao glances at the path ahead of them, the trees in the near horizon, a kaleidoscope of blooming flowers, sun-drenched and sparkling and magical. It’s a scene that is deceivingly bright for the conversation at hand. He inhales deeply, the air sweetly floral and fresh, feeling oddly at ease for some reason, secure enough to give Hanbin a piece of his thoughts for once. Emboldened with the knowledge that they’re both in the same boat, he opens his mouth.

“You talk as if we have nothing to do with each other anymore.”

“Well, kind of, right?”

“Not necessarily.” He looks at Hanbin, at his big brown eyes that seem to melt with emotion, the slight purse of his lips. “We’re still something, aren’t we? We’re in this breakup together, after all. We…probably know what each other’s going through the best.”

Hanbin swallows, eyes drifting away, quietly exhaling shakily. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

__________

They take a long detour home, spent in silence, with the occasional comment on the scenery. Hao doesn’t point out any more cute dogs along the way, careful not to catapult into another accidental mulling of the past.

By the time they arrive back at Hao’s dorm, it’s dark already, and just in time for dinner. Hanbin settles into the couch while Hao heads to his room to change into more comfortable clothes. As he sets down his phone on his nightstand, his home screen lights up with notifications from his mom. With a sigh, he shuts off all notifications from his phone. He refuses to think of his mom tonight.

He can’t help it though. His mother’s words had stung, and he wonders if he had been too harsh on her. He had always tried his best to be gentle and patient when it came to her, but all of his hard work had unraveled during the phone call today, anger bursting at the seams. He didn’t mean it. He really didn’t. He wishes he could have told her that he misses her, that every choice he has ever made in his life was out of consideration for her, that he wishes he could turn back time and return to his childhood to figure out the root of all their issues.

Briefly, Hao wonders if Hanbin has ever truly enjoyed his presence, because everything that crosses Hao’s mind always finds its way to Hanbin. Were there moments where Hanbin had fallen victim to his unintentional cruelty? Even so, Hao wouldn’t have ever known. Hanbin is too kind, he would have never said anything, and if Hao didn’t break it off back then, who knows how much hurt he would have unknowingly caused in the long run? It would have all piled up, one way or another, and bound to explode one day.

No. Hao slaps both hands on his face to rid himself of all thoughts. He cannot afford to spiral tonight.

“Want to order takeout?” He asks as he steps into the living room where Hanbin is situated on his couch, blanket on his lap. The sight is so familiar that for a moment, Hao almost believes he’s travelled back in time.

Hanbin looks up from his phone and grins, showing off his perfect teeth. “You know what my answer always is.” Hao leans on the back of the couch, his head over Hanbin’s shoulder, and watches as he swipes out of Instagram and onto the delivery app.

“Are we getting Thai as usual?” Hao questions as he watches Hanbin scroll through the different cuisines.

Hanbin turns his head so that he’s face to face with Hao, who hadn’t realized how close he had gotten in trying to see the screen. His heart lurches forwards, like it's about to escape from his chest. They’re so close in proximity that he can feel the air that escapes Hanbin’s nostrils as he lets out a small huff of laughter. Fortunately, for the sake of Hao’s heart health, Hanbin turns his head back down to his screen, and types in the name of their favorite Thai restaurant.

“Of course,” Hanbin says. “It’s tradition, isn’t it?”

Hao’s stomach churns so vigorously from hunger that he thinks his eyes might begin to water. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he blinks away the stinging sensation.

Huh, has he developed dry eyes? It might be worth it to invest in some eye drops.

__________

Their food arrives twenty minutes later, two big brown paper bags of steaming flat rice noodles and chicken satay, and all that hearty goodness. Hao sets the table while Hanbin sorts out their dishes, distributing their food.

Hao sets down the cutlery and eyes the bags. “Do you think we ordered too much?”

“Nah, there’s no such thing as too much.” Hanbin stacks the empty takeout boxes, the contents all plated. “Besides, we can have this for breakfast tomorrow if we don’t finish.”

It takes Hao a moment for his words to register. He jolts suddenly, jerking his head in Hanbin’s direction. “Wait, what do you mean we?”

Hanbin looks at him plainly, like he’s just asked the stupidest question known to mankind. “I’ve decided to sleep over tonight.” He says calmly, wiping the grease off his hands with a napkin. “You’ll let me, right?”

Hao stares at him before snorting, pulling out a chair to sit down. “That is definitely not what an ex should ask.”

Hanbin sits down next to him, picking up his chopsticks. “Well, how unfortunate is it that I don’t know how to be a good ex, but do know how to be a good friend?” He says this with a slight, prideful quirk to his mouth, like he’s waiting for Hao to praise him for his reasoning.

Ha, as if Hao would ever let his sensible facade slip—even if it’s a little bit; as if he would ever cross the line just enough to warmly let Hanbin know that he’s secretly overjoyed, that his leg is bouncing underneath the table from anticipation, that there’s a strange flutter in his chest that only ever arises when he’s around Hanbin.

“Pretty unfortunate, I guess.” Hao chooses to tease instead, shoveling his Pad Thai into his mouth.

Hanbin narrows his eyes at the response. “Okay, you’re getting penalized for that,” he says, plucking the chicken skewer right off Hao’s plate.

“Hey!” Hao lunges to reach for the skewer in his hands, practically throwing himself all over the culprit. “Give me that!”

Hanbin throws his head back and lets out a laughter of pure, unadulterated joy. The laugh rings so soundly in Hao’s ears that he retreats, huffing. It seems like Hanbin still finds much enjoyment in poking fun at him.

“Okay, okay, calm down you angry racoon.” He places the skewer back into its rightful ownership, Hao’s plate, and hands over his own as well. “Shouldn’t have touched your sacred food. Here, you can have mine too.”

Hao stares at him in confusion, holding a skewer in each hand. “Why? Are you sure? Did you poison this?”

“Eat up before I change my mind.”

Hao doesn’t need to be told twice, stuffing his cheeks with sweet and savory goodness. He catches Hanbin staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and he looks over, frowning.

“What.”

“Nothing,” Hanbin fails to hide his smile with his fist.

“What.” Hao demands with a whine.

“Your cheeks puff out when you eat.” Hanbin grins as he picks up his chopsticks and begins to make a dent at the heaps of food. “It’s cute,” he adds offhandedly. Hao tries his best not to choke on his food. His face heats up and he focuses his attention on the plate in front of him instead.

“By the way, you can sleep over if you want,” Hao very nonchalantly changes the topic. “You used to sleep over all the time back then anyways. So…well…” He doesn’t really know where his logic is going with this, so he shuts himself up by wiping his mouth with a napkin, collecting remnants of peanut sauce at the edges of his lips.

“I am sleeping over,” Hanbin says pointedly. “I wasn’t joking earlier. I’m too tired to drive home, and you have room.”

Hao can’t help but think about the ethics behind spending the night together with your ex. He takes a cautious bite out of Hanbin’s chicken satay and casts a long sideways glance at Hanbin, who notices almost immediately, responding with a tilt of his head. Hao doesn’t back down, continuing to stare unashamedly.

Whatever. They’ve always toed at the edge of exes and something ambiguous anyways. Better commit to the bit of being the most unconventional pair of exes to exist now.

__________

Spending the night together feels…abnormally normal. They had a shared nighttime routine together during the countless times Hanbin had slept over in the past. Without any declaration, they fall into the same habits as before. Hao showers first and brushes his teeth before plugging in the hair dryer next to his bed. Hanbin lingers to keep him company as he blowdries his hair before rummaging through the closet to find some clothes to wear and heading into the bathroom.

Still, some parts of the nighttime routine are no longer applicable to the current state of their relationship. Sleeping in the same bed, for one.

Hanbin exits the bathroom, freshly showered, wearing a tank top and Hao’s pajama pants. “Glad to see that my toothbrush was still in there. I was worried about having to go out and buy one at this hour.”

Hao, snuggled underneath his covers, opens his mouth, ready to provide an excuse as to why he hasn’t thrown out Hanbin’s toothbrush before he decides that he doesn’t have to explain himself. Hanbin has probably felt the exact same force that had prevented Hao from touching any of his belongings.

“Shouldn’t you, as a host, offer your guest the bed?” Hanbin quips lightheartedly.

“Yeah no shot,” Hao points in the direction of the living room. “There’s a couch waiting for you outside. No way you’re kicking me out of my bed tonight.”

“Ouch, you’re so cruel,” Hanbin huffs, placing a hand on his chest. It’s a harmless joke. Hao knows it’s a joke. But he can’t help the annoyance that flares within him, the sting in his chest—a result of the frustrations building up from his mother’s words earlier today.

“Well.” His voice is clipped at the edges, and he sounds brattier than he’d like to admit. “So I’ve been told.”

His tone doesn’t go by unnoticed, and Hanbin’s expression falters slightly. “I was joking.”

“Me too, then.” Hao really doesn’t mean to dive further into his recent ruminations, but there's no going back once Hanbin catches on that something is wrong. Hao can sense the wheels and cogs of Hanbin’s mind turning as he tries to find a way to approach this conversation.

“Do people call you cruel a lot?” Hanbin asks, with genuine curiosity evident in his eyes.

“Kinda,” Hao shrugs and plays with the frays of his comforter. He pulls at a loose thread in the corner. “It’s deserved, I think.” He doesn’t know what has overcome him, why he felt so provoked by a simple joke, why he’s even sharing all this with Hanbin.

“Why? You don’t think you’re a good person?” Hanbin asks again. He sounds truthfully confused. He settles himself at the edge of the bed closest to Hao. Hao subconsciously leans away, hugging his legs close to his chest, forming some sort of barrier between them with his body, so as not to seem as vulnerable as he feels.

“No, that’s not it. I just…” Hao licks his lips. “I don’t think I’ll ever be as good of a person as I want to believe I am.”

Because, simply put, that’s all there really is to it.

Hao doesn’t think he’s necessarily a bad person, but sometimes, when he looks at his friends, whose kindness and goodwill practically flow right out of them, forming into tangible words and actions of affection, he finds himself lacking the same attitude. And he finds himself wondering why it’s so hard for him to express himself in the same way. Why the words he wants to say never come out the way he intends.

Does he lack the love to act so? Is he really just a heartless person? Because Hao really, really doesn’t think so, and he wants to believe that. He feels everything deeply, he loves his family despite their disagreements, he loves his friends because it’s impossible not to, but is his full capacity simply not enough?

He loves and loves and loves, and wishes nothing more than to be able to scream his love from the rooftops, but instead, he’ll always fall back to silence and choose to love quietly from the shadows instead. This, he feels, is his biggest flaw in life—his incapability of expression.

Hanbin tilts his head, in the confused puppy-like manner he always adopts. “What do you mean by that?”

Hao swallows, averting his eyes. “I can’t hug others naturally. I can’t ask someone about their feelings without feeling out of place. I can’t tell people I love them without it sounding forced. I can’t do any of these things that are meant to showcase my love with ease and it kills me because I want to believe that I am a loving person so bad, but it seems like I’m just…not. And I don’t know how to fix myself to not be this way.”

“You don’t have to fix yourself,” Hanbin says firmly, a crease forming between his brows, causing him to look offended. “Saying it like that insinuates that there’s something wrong with you.”

Hao laughs wetly. “There’s probably a lot wrong with me.” He thinks it’s a funny joke, but Hanbin, apparently, does not think so, shooting him a disapproving look.

“Don’t say that about yourself.” He looks so upset that Hao begins to berate himself for never being able to read the room.

“Right, sorry.” He picks at his hangnails, his breathing growing shallower the more his thoughts begin to clash, the louder the whirlwind in his head grows, interjections of self-contempt left and right.

“Maybe I really am just a bad person,” he muses through the chaos. “Maybe my mom was right about me all along. Maybe I’m just as cold as she thinks I am, and I’ve deluded myself into thinking otherwise my whole life. That must be it. I’m simply a bad person. That would explain a lot, wouldn’t it? I’m sorry for all this, I think I’m just going crazy a little bit.” he begins to nod crazily, giving himself a minor headache. Everything feels slightly woozy, the room spinning round and round. It feels like he’s on the verge of hysteria now.

“Hey, don’t apologize, it’s okay.” Hanbin looks at him with such worry, such undeserving kindness that Hao feels a wave of self-hatred flooding all over him again because it all just feels so utterly wrong and selfish to continue to cling onto his ex. To continue to seek him out and remind them both of the pain and hurt and heartbreak and everything bad he’s ever afflicted upon the two of them because he’s just so stupid and cruel. Because he can’t love like a normal person, has never been able to love properly since the very beginning. Because he can’t ever seem to do anything right.

“Sorry, just ignore everything I just said.” Hao shakes his head in his hands, touseling his hair. “I’ve been extra moody lately for some reason. Well, actually there is a reason, but she normally doesn’t even affect me this much.”

“Hao–”

“I have no idea why I’m like this today. I’ll go to sleep soon and sleep it all off, don’t worry. Tomorrow I’ll be normal again—”

“Hey, look at me.” Hanbin interjects gently. He reaches out and cups Hao’s face with both hands, forcing them to be eye-to-eye. Hao hiccups, eliciting a soft smile from the man. His voice is tender and gentle when he begins to speak.

“Hao, did you know that people always seek you out when you’re not there? When I go to tutor Yujin, he always asks me when the next time he’ll see you is. During practice, Gunwook always asks when you’ll come sit in again. That one time you missed one of our mandatory dinners? Everyone almost went crazy lamenting you. Gyuvin got super drunk and started climbing onto the table to deliver an elegy of sorts.” Hao can’t help but let loose a laugh at that image.

“We had to drag him down and everything. It was super embarrassing. You should have seen Jiwoong hyung trying to coax him into stepping off the table instead of backflipping off. God, Taerae looked like he wanted to bury himself alive.” Hanbin shakes his head fondly at the memory. “I’m getting a little off track now, but the point is: you are missed when you are absent.”

Hao blinks at him, his tears catching on the tips of his eyelashes. He doesn’t trust himself to do anything other than breathe and listen.

Hanbin continues. “Do you know why that is? It’s a reciprocation of your love. We feel it—all the gentle ways you love us. The love when you dote on the younger ones in your own subtle ways; when you help us achieve our goals no matter what it takes, so much so that it takes priority over your own responsibilities; when you do everything in your power to encourage us to follow what makes us happy. It’s all there—the love you emit. You don’t realize it, but you are submerged in a boundless pool of love. That’s why we miss you when you’re not here. We miss the love you encompass, even if it’s not loud.”

He pauses and drops his hands, his eyes clouding over with a layer of hesitation. Hao mourns the loss of warmth on his cheeks. “Can I tell you something that might be a little…weird for the stage we’re in?”

Recognizing that Hanbin is alluding to their break up, Hao can only nod silently, in fear that he might start weeping if he opens his mouth.

Hanbin takes a deep breath and looks at Hao, his eyes shiny and soft with a look that can only be described as affection. Hao’s chest blooms warmly under his gaze.

Finally, Hanbin admits, quietly and with the utmost assurance in his voice, “I have never felt more loved in my life than when I was with you.”

A tear escapes Hao’s eye, and he digs the heel of his palm into his eye to stop the flow. Goddamit. Hanbin had been successful in making him cry after all.

Hanbin doesn’t look away, not even once, while speaking. “I notice when you remember the little things about myself that even I thought I had forgotten. I notice when you try to secretly ease the load I carry because I’m always so stubborn in refusing help but God knows I need it. I notice all the little ways you love, and I feel it. Believe me, I feel it so, so deeply.” Hao hiccups again and slaps his hand over his mouth to prevent any more noises from escaping.

Hanbin gently takes a hold of his wrist and pries his hand away from his face. “It’s okay, Hao. You don’t have to hide anything. It’s just me.”

Another hiccup bubbles up, and Hanbin laughs softly. “Listen to me, okay? I don’t want you to ever underestimate your ability to love again. You are not a heartless person, no matter what you may think, or what others may have falsely said. You love, and are loved, much more than you know.”

And if Hao hadn’t already reached his tipping point earlier in their conversation, he sure has now, completely breaking down over these words. No degree of the tilt of his head can hold back his tears. It’s absolutely gut wrenching and earth shattering, yet it is what he has always wanted to be told, it is what glues the broken pieces in him together, the gold lacquer of affirmations that remind him that he is good, he is good, he is good.

Hanbin spreads his arms out wide to envelope Hao in a hug, and Hao melts into his embrace like putty, face buried in his neck, welcoming the soothing pats on his back that ease the trembling of his body.

Being hugged by Hanbin isn’t like being hugged by anyone else. Hanbin holds him firmly, implacably, as if he’ll hold Hao all night, and through the day, if need be, as if he’s trying to squeeze out all the anguish festering within, the anguish that has become not just Hao’s, but their’s, because everything between them is shared. He smells like cedarwood and cypress, smokey and grounding, and his hand likes to tug softly on Hao’s hair as he whispers into his ear. This is a touch that Hao has missed for so long, and never realized just how much he needed.

Hanbin’s hand brushes past Hao’s ear, settling on the nape of his neck. “Hyung, I hope you know that it’s very possible, and very okay, to love in silence.” Hao promptly starts crying again and Hanbin giggles. “There, there. Why are you crying even harder now?”

Hao sniffles loudly, and hopes he doesn’t leave a trail of snot on Hanbin’s bare arms. “Ugh,” he croaks, his throat feeling swollen and heavy. “You can’t just say shit like that to me. Of course I’m going to cry like a baby.”

Hanbin pulls his face away slightly to look at Hao. The expression on his face is both amused and loving, eyes curved into soft crescents. “Shit like what? What’d I say?”

“You’re so annoying.” Hao grumbles, pulling Hanbin back to hide his puffy face. His cheeks presses against Hanbin’s shoulder as he murmurs, “Thank you, though.”

Hanbin chuckles, his whole body following in movement. “Nothing to thank me for. Just some things I’ve been meaning to say for a while—mmph!” His words are muffled as Hao clamps his hands over his mouth to stop him from speaking.

“I’m going to start crying again if you continue to talk, so do me a favor and just shut up.”

“Mm-mnh,” Hanbin shakes his head to signal disagreement. He tries to remove Hao’s hands from his face, but he’s not trying very hard to, as he rests his fingers on Hao’s wrist with no further attempt to pry them off.

“Okay, so I’ll just sit like this then,” Hao shrugs. “Fine by me.”

“Dush dat meamph I canf shleep in yur bef?”

Hao releases his hands, traces of Hanbin’s saliva on his palms. He should find it gross but he doesn’t. “Did you just ask to sleep in my bed?”

Hanbin sighs with feigned exasperation. “Well, it was worth a try.” He begins to stand up before he’s immediately, very roughly, pushed back down by his shoulder.

Hao scooches over on his bed and pushes aside his blanket, patting the empty space. Hanbin remains in place, lips slightly parted, blinking in disbelief.

“What,” Hao demands, feeling slightly embarrassed all of a sudden. Was Hanbin only joking?

“Uh, are you sure?” Hanbin rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish expression on his face. “I don’t want you to feel forced or anything. I’m fine with the couch.”

Hao purses his lips and looks longingly at the space beside him. “Do you not want to sleep here?”

Hanbin’s eyes grow wide. “No!” He cries out, before coughing and collecting himself. “I mean, no. I do. I want to. If you’re okay with it.”

“Of course I’m okay with it.” Hao explains plainly. “I’m offering.”

Hanbin slides in a little bit closer until he’s close enough for Hao to tuck both of their legs under the blanket. “Okay, then. Thank you.”

The bed is big enough for the two of them to sleep side by side without touching. But Hao purposely lies a little bit closer, just enough to feel the heat radiating off Hanbin’s skin, and plays it off as an accidental shift. Hanbin seems to do the same lying far from the edge, placing his elbow near Hao’s pillow, his tattoo now dangerously at eye level.

Hao yawns and rubs his puffy eyes, and Hanbin turns onto his side to face him. Tomorrow, they’ll wake up in the morning and heat up the leftovers. Hanbin will help wash the dishes and splash bubbles onto Hao as a joke. Hao will beat him with a towel while trying to hide his smile. Hanbin will gather his things and head off to his own dorm. They’ll spend the rest of the day alone again, and Hao will wonder why he feels like something is always missing.

But for now, they lie in bed, looking into each other’s eyes, close to being tangled but not brave enough to make the move. Hao gazes into the eyes he’s never been able to stop loving until the exhaustion overwhelms him and he surrenders to sleep. Before dozing off, he thinks he hears Hanbin whisper a soft, “Sweet dreams, HaoHao,” but he can’t be too sure.

__________

Hao 2:14
are u free

Hanbin 2:16
Of course

Hao 2:17
come to my place

Hanbin 2:20
Ooh, scandalous.
What are we up to?

Hao 2:20
ok retract that. i never want to see you again

Hanbin 2:22
Too late, I’m already On my way!
On my way!
Fuck why does it keep autocorrecting to that
O m w
I’m not that chalant

Hao 2:24
our text ratio says otherwise…

__________

“Off to the post office we go!” Hao trills before Hanbin can even step foot into his apartment.

“You called me over to run errands?” Hanbin asks, jaw hanging open, incredulous, hand still raised in the position that he had it moments ago to knock on the door.

“Duh,” Hao locks the door behind them, pocketing his key. He makes his way to the elevator down the hallway, ignoring Hanbin’s mock offense.

“You only use me for labor,” Hanbin pouts as he follows behind, mimicking Hao on that fateful day during the festival when everything began to unravel. Copycat.

“Look at you copying my every word. You’re such a fan,” Hao rolls his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You literally want me so bad.”

Hanbin chuckles, almost humorlessly. “You have no idea.” Hao’s traitorous heart jolts excitedly at that.

The elevator dings, and Hao rushes in to hide his face, pretending like Hanbin’s words didn’t just send a rush of heat running through him. He will not allow him to have the upper hand today.

“What are we picking up from the post office?” Hanbin asks, pressing the button for the ground level.

“Just some gifts.”

“From who? Who gave you them?” Hanbin eyes dart across Hao’s face as if studying his features will tell him the answers to his pressing question. His eyes lose all glint of humor. Knowing him, he probably doesn’t even realize he’s making that expression.

Hao smacks his cheek gently to snap him out of it. “My mom, you idiot.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, an unhelpful voice asks him why he feels so comfortable initiating physical contact with his ex again. He violently shoves that thought aside.

“Oh,” Hanbin’s mood lightens up almost immediately, face relaxing, relief palpable. “Did she apologize to you?”

“No,” Hao shrugs indifferently. “I wasn’t expecting her to, though. I’ve long accepted the fact that an apology is something I’ll never hear from her.” The elevator dings to signal that they’ve reached the ground floor and they exit in silence.

“Come on, it’s this way,” Hao motions, stopping to turn around when he doesn’t hear Hanbin follow after him. He catches sight of Hanbin’s face, eyes pooling with a pitiful expression that makes Hao’s heart flutter. He will never get used to being on the receiving end of such warmth and care.

“Come on, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t say that to sound resentful or anything. I truly don’t care.” Hanbin frowns further. Hao sighs and walks back to where Hanbin is rooted in place.

“Okay fine, maybe I care just a little bit, but I think…she shows she cares in different ways. Like sending these gifts in place of an apology. I’m not complaining. Free gifts, yeah? It’s just her way of loving me, I guess. Maybe I got my fucked up ways of loving other people from her.”

Hanbin frowns even deeper, if that was even possible, looking like a sad and pitiful hamster. “Hyung—”

“Right. No self-decapritating talk.” Hao rolls his eyes, but Hanbin is still looking at him, concern scrawled across his features, so much so that Hao feels the need to provide some reassurance.

“Sorry, I’ll stop doing that now. But I’m really okay. Really.” He stares at his feet, his sandals showcasing the mismatched socks he had mindlessly pulled on this morning. One of them has a shiba inu on it, and he quickly recognizes the sock as a gift from Hanbin ages ago, back when Hanbin had been a shy and easily flustered boy, and Hao had been too sharp tongued for his own good. He had only begun to calm down after befriending Hanbin, which, of course, had blossomed into something more.

On one of their earliest dates, pinkies intertwined like shy schoolboys, they had passed by a street vendor selling handmade crafts and Hao had made an off hand remark about the adorable shiba inu socks. Hanbin showed up to class the next day, nervously pulling them out of his bag, as if Hao could ever be upset at him for doing so. Even now, Hao remembers the exact feeling he had felt back then, when he had been hit with the sudden rush of giddiness. When he had felt the intimacy of being known, and understood, and adored, and dare say, loved.

“I think I’ve always tried to believe that I’m not a bad person out of spite, to prove others wrong, but there was always a nagging part of me that thought, what if? What if I’m exactly what they say I am? But I’ve realized that good people attract good people. And you are a reminder that I am good. Along with our other friends, of course.” He looks up at Hanbin, who’s listening intently, absorbing every word, and Hao flutters his eyelashes shyly. “But especially you, Bin-ah. Thank you…for being you. For making me feel like it’s okay to be me.”

Hanbin stares at him, mouth slightly agape, eyes shiny with wonder.

Hao shoves him gently, flushed in embarrassment. “Come on, say something. You know I hate being all sappy and everything.”

“Wow, I–” Hanbin pretends to wipe away tears from the corners of his eyes. “Beautifully said. Can you do me a favor and write that out on paper for me? I want to get it framed.”

“God, I really can’t with you,” Hao exclaims, throwing his hands into the air. “I actually think you might be the most annoying person on earth.”

Hanbin snorts at the obvious lie and pushes Hao’s hands down, holding onto his wrist. “Okay, I’ll admit I’m being immature. I just don’t know how to respond because I don’t particularly think I’ve done anything worth thanking.”

Hao turns and drags Hanbin towards the direction of the post office. Partly because he needs to go pick up his packages, and partly because he wants to hide his face as he says his next words, which may be the most sentimental and mushy words he has ever said to date.

“Hanbin, you have no idea how much you have changed the trajectory of my life. From back then until now. I think a part of me has always been waiting to finally meet you.”

Hanbin stops in his tracks again, but Hao continues pulling forward. Thankfully, Hanbin doesn’t let go of his wrist, giving him no choice but to follow suit. He fully expects to be met with another teasing remark, per the Hanbin usual, but instead, he’s met with an admission carrying a certain weight. One that carries itself past Hao’s ears and plants itself right smack into the center of his heart.

“Who said you haven’t had the same effect on me?” Hanbin’s voice travels up from behind. “I’ve felt incomplete until I met you. You’re the other half I’ve been missing my whole life.”

Hao doesn’t stop walking, but his heart pounds so heavily that it travels to his other senses as well, distorting his vision with what may be tears, but he doesn’t want to confirm. He worms his fingers through Hanbin’s so that he’s not just being held on by the wrist, a flimsy point of connection. He doesn’t want to be separated so easily anymore, and a small spark, a tiny beacon of hope within him, thinks that Hanbin doesn’t want to either. Hao translates the way Hanbin squeezes his hand as a sign of confirmation.

__________

Spring break slips by quickly, as time often does when you’re at ease; Hao can confirm as he has been much more at ease lately, no longer feeling the sinking weight in his guts. Along with the reprieve from school, he seems to have developed a certain clarity to life, to the people he keeps close to him, to one person in particular—but he’s not quite brave enough to clearly state what he wants with him yet.

“Bin-ah!” Hao yells while waving his arms in the air to signal to the younger one from across the courtyard. Hanbin’s eyes light up in recognition and he grins, looking both ways before jogging across the street to greet him. He’s dressed in a light checkered flannel and black rimmed glasses, the breeze tousling his hair, leaving his bangs sideswept and boyish.

Hao hasn’t seen him in days, though they’ve texted back and forth for every second that they weren’t together. This distance wasn’t intentional; they’re both adults, after all, and carry their own responsibilities. Hanbin had to teach a tutting workshop at his dance studio while Hao had decided to take a deep dive into practicing again. Only this time, it was purely out of his aching to play again—and partly because he feels somewhat guilty in having neglected his violin for so long—and not because he feels a need to distract himself.

“Hao,” Hanbin says breathily as he fusses with his bangs, fighting the wind. “Hey.”

“Leave it be,” Hao grabs his hand. “You kind of rock the emo sidebang hairstyle.”

“Oh shut up,” Hanbin shoots him a slanted glare, but he doesn’t make much of an effort to fix his hair after that. He doesn’t make an effort to remove his hand from Hao’s grip either.

They make their way into the nearby cafe to meet up with their friends for lunch, hand in hand. Or rather, Hao’s hand gripping onto Hanbin’s fingers. It’s the same cafe in which they sat awkwardly side by side a little while ago, right before Gyuvin and Ricky’s departure. Hao looks at the man walking beside him, at their joined hands, and wonders to himself how so much could change in such little time. Maybe it’s always been possible, he’s just never made the effort to try.

Sitting at a makeshift table created by pushing two tables together, sits Gyuvin, Ricky, Matthew, and Yujin.

“Hao-hyung! Hanbin hyung!” Yujin exclaims excitedly. He moves his chair closer to the rest of the boys to make room. Hanbin lets go of their hands and pulls out two chairs from neighboring tables. Hao smiles in appreciation, taking a seat.

“You two came here together?” Ricky asks, stirring his smoothie with his straw. He has a weird glint in his eye as he looks at the two of them, then sideways at Gyuvin.

“Yeah, our classes end around the same time anyways.” Hanbin taps Hao’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m gonna go order. Did you want anything?”

Hao looks up at him. “Yeah, thanks. Could you get me—”

“Hot milk tea with fifty percent sugar?” Hanbin has his brows raised, as if challenging him.

Hao gives him an amused once over. “Wow, good job. I’m impressed.”

“My memory’s not that bad, hyung,” He thrusts out his lower lip. Hao thinks he hears Matthew mutter a quiet, ‘the fuck is going on?’

“Okay, okay,” Hao entertains Hanbin with a gentle tousle of his hair. The boy preens at the touch, like an overeager puppy. “Now hurry up and order with your wonderful memory.”

When Hanbin leaves and Hao turns his attention back to the table, he’s met with four pairs of curious eyes, staring at him.

“What are you guys looking at.”

“You seem to have had an eventful spring break…” Ricky begins.

“Got anything to tell us?” Matthew finishes for him.

Hao glances over at where Hanbin is ordering at the counter, chatting animatedly with the stupidly handsome barista behind the register. Leave it to Hanbin to make friends with everyone he opens his mouth around. “No,” he decides. His friends look unconvinced.

“How was Shanghai?” He pointedly changes the topic, and thankfully, Gyuvin falls for it, setting off like a rocket into one of his long rambles that he adapts when he’s excited about something.

When Hanbin returns, with a tray in his hand, Gyuvin is in the middle of recounting the negative parts of his trip, notably, the instance when someone had tried to flirt with Ricky.

“Some guy tried to hit on Ricky though, so that part wasn’t as amazing as the rest of the trip.” Gyuvin pauses, then corrects himself. “No, it wasn't amazing at all.”

Hao wants to interject that he never has to worry about anyone stealing his man seeing that Ricky has been in love with Gyuvin since the beginning of time. Hao would know; he’s been the victim of one too many rants and confessions.

He doesn’t, though, because his brain is turned into a pile of mush as Hanbin leans in and whispers, “I got you a slice of cake too, it’s durian flavored. I saw it on the menu and thought you’d want it.”

Hao lets out a shuddery breath as he feels a shiver travel down his spine. Geez, Hanbin should look into the ASMR industry with a voice like that. He makes a mental note to bring up this change in career path later when they’re alone.

“Thanks,” he whispers back, not daring to look Hanbin in the eye, afraid that he’ll say something insanely stupid if he does. He takes a bite from the cake and melts in the familiar comfort of durian.

“They weren’t flirting with me, you’re just exaggerating,” Ricky rolls his eyes.

“They so were! They said that Ricky looked like he had the potential to be an idol and he wanted a photo with him before he became famous! Is that not flirting?”

“Damn, that’s kinda creative I can’t lie,” Matthew looks a little too deep in thought for his comment to pass as a joke. “I should start using that.”

“On who? You don’t even need an excuse to take pictures with Gunwook-hyung.” Yujin pipes up.

Matthew whips his head so fast Hao’s afraid he’ll hurt his neck. “When did I ever mention Gunwookie?”

Yujin sneers in typical teenager fashion. “I’m not stupid, hyung. I have eyes.”

“No, that’s lowkey something I’d do too,” Hao jumps in before Matthew has a chance to explode on the younger. “Like, see that barista behind the register? Don’t look all at once, but he looks like he could be an idol. I’d wanna get a photo with him before he becomes famous to brag that I knew him before fame.”

All his friends very obviously turn their heads to look over at the counter at the same time.

Matthew laughs first. “Are you talking about Soobin-hyung?” He says at the same time Hanbin’s brows snap together and he hurriedly asks, “Do you think he’s handsome?”

“Oh, I know him, he’s in our Econ class.” Gyuvin’s face brightens with mischief, the way it always does when he comes up with a horrible idea. “Should I call him over to tell him what you just said?”

“Wait, do you think he’s handsome?” Hanbin repeats.

“Gyuvin, don’t you dare.” Hao wags his finger in Gyuvin’s direction.

“Hyung–” Hanbin opens his mouth once more.

“Yes, Hanbin, I think he’s handsome.” Hao snaps once he’s decided he’s had enough of his questioning. “Gosh, I can recognize when someone looks good, okay?”

Hanbin’s face falls and he gnaws on his lips, forehead furrowed. He looks over at Soobin, who is wiping down the counter, unaware that he is the topic of conversation at this table, then back down at his own mug.

“Good job,” Ricky says sarcastically, squinting at Hao as he takes a sip of his strawberry matcha. Hao reels back. Where is this out of pocket snark coming from?

“Aw, hyung,” Matthew rubs the dejected Hanbin’s back reassuringly. “It’s okay. I think you’re a lot more handsome.” He looks up and shoots Hao a glare, then jerks his head down at the boy he’s comforting, as if trying to signal to Hao to do something about his misery.

Hao glances around, bewildered, trying to see if any of his other friends catch this undeserving reprimanding. However, Gyuvin and Yujin carry the same disappointed looks on their faces, shaking their heads when he makes eye contact with them.

“Okay, woah. Why are you all acting like I’m evil?”

“You can be surprisingly clueless sometimes,” Gyuvin says, pursing his lips into a disapproving frown.

“What did I do!”

Hanbin, whose face still carries a hint of disappointment, changes the topic before a fight can break out. “By the way, Yujin, did the rules change at your school or something? Back then, we weren’t allowed to leave campus for lunch at all.”

Matthew smiles, reminiscing of his school days. “Oh yeah, we’d be given a whole month’s worth of detention if we were ever caught sneaking off campus.” He straightens and looks at Yujin. “Not that I ever skipped class or anything. I was a good student.” Gyuvin snorts at that.

“Wow, you were a better student than me, then.” Yujin comments casually. “They think I’m at the nurse’s or something.” He takes a forkful of Hao’s durian cake, as if he’s not currently breaking his school’s biggest policy, then makes a disgusted expression at it.

Everyone at the table freezes. Then, there are collective gasps and scandalized exclaims.

“What!”

“Wow, I didn’t know you were that type of student!”

“He must’ve taken after Matthew!”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean!”

And amongst the overlap of voices stands out Hanbin’s authoritative, no-nonsense timbre. “Yujin, get up, I’m taking you back to school.” He says, already beginning to stand up.

“But why,” Yujin whines, dragging out the end of the word. “They won’t even notice that I’m gone. Trust me, I’ve done this before.”

“And I’m not going to let you do this again. Your mother left you in my care for the time being while she’s away. I cannot have her receiving a phone call asking where you are.”

“But I just wanted to see you guys.” Yujin says, pouting while giving his best doe eyes. It works on Hao a little too well.

“Maybe you should let him just stay a little longer.” Hao tries to bargain for the boy. After all, he can’t blame the teenager for wanting to escape. It must be awful, being trapped in a classroom for eight hours a day.

But Hanbin isn’t as easily swayed. “Absolutely not. Han Yujin, get up now,” he says sternly, hands on his hips while he taps his foot impatiently.

“But hyung,” Yujin tries one more time. Hanbin doesn’t budge.

“Fine,” Yujin grumbles, taking his sweet time gathering his belongings as an act of defiance.

Hao tugs on the end of Hanbin’s flannel to stop him before they leave. “Why are you leaving so soon? Are you coming back?”

Hanbin’s eyes soften as he looks down at Hao. “No, I had a lot of work to catch up on anyways.”

“Oh,” Hao frowns, feeling bad for dragging him here. “You didn’t have to accompany me here, you know? I asked because I thought you were free.”

“It’s okay, I wanted to come, even if it was just for a little bit.” Hanbin glances at the register before looking back down, demeanor changing, jaw tightening slightly. “You should leave soon too…before Gyuvin calls Soobin over or something.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, an awkward sound in between a laugh and a wheeze escaping him.

Hao’s lips twitch.

Ah. He recognizes this secret possessive side of Hanbin very well. What a throwback. He doesn’t want to think too deeply as to why this side of Hanbin is suddenly appearing again or else he might show his crazy side to the entire cafe and reveal that he was never over his ex in the first place.

“Okay, okay,” Hao pats Hanbin’s arm to appease him. “You better bring Yujin back to school soon before he gets caught.” That seems to do the trick, and an urgent look passes Hanbin’s face.

“Right. Yujin, hurry up. There’s no reason why you should be taking this long to gather your bag.” Hanbin demands. He’s a natural at being a leader, and admittedly, quite scary when he wants to be. Everyone flinches slightly at the unexpected tone, except for Yujin, the fearless teenager.

“Okay dad. Jesus Christ. You’d think I broke the law or something.”

“Out the door. Now. March.” Hanbin directs, pushing Yujin in the direction of the door. Before leaving, he turns around and directs a smile towards Hao. “Bye guys. I’ll see you around, hyung.” He grips his hand on Yujin’s shoulder to ensure he doesn’t run off, and the two of them are gone.

“Aaaaand the ‘Hao Hyung Tunnel Vision’ is back!” Matthew announces enthusiastically like a game show host.

“What are you even talking about?” Hao mutters, shooting apologetic looks to the other students in the cafe.

Gyuvin slurps obnoxiously on his mango smoothie, the corners of his lips curving upwards to form a grin that very much worries Hao. “What did the two of you do over break?”

“What do you mean?” Hao shoots him a weird look and takes a sip of his milk tea.

“What Gyuvin means is,” Ricky clarifies. “Did you two fuck and make up over break or what?”

Hao’s eyes grow wide and he inhales too much of his milk tea at once, choking on a big gulp. “What?” He manages to screech between sputters, coughing into his elbow.

“Hey, it’s a valid question,” Matthew says. “I was wondering the same thing.”

“Thank you,” Gyuvin huffs.

“What–” Hao continues to cough. “Why would you guys ask that?”

“Prety much everything that had happened since you two entered the cafe leads up to that question.” Ricky drawls in his monotonous voice as if Hao would not understand his words if he spoke any faster.

“Well, there was no fucking or making up, thank you very much.” Hao chokes out. “He is still my ex, in case you all have forgotten.”

His friends stare at him, unmoving.

“Hm,” Matthew spears his pancake with his fork and waves it in Hao’s direction. “I thought you two would've gotten your shit together over break.”

“W-what makes you think that?” Hao goes cross-eyed as he follows the fork’s movement. It feels like Matthew is trying to hypnotize him into spilling all the right answers. But to be honest, Hao’s not even sure what he wants to hear from him.

“I called Hanbin a few days ago. He sounded a lot happier than usual. I asked about his lesson plans for the dance workshop. He was somehow able to incorporate you into the conversation. Hung up by saying he was heading over to your place to watch a movie. My brain made some connections. Ba-da bing, ba-da boom.” Matthew shrugs like he’s fending off all the incoming praises. “Wasn’t that hard, really.”

Hao would make fun of him if it wasn’t for the fact that his brain was too hung up on Matthew’s words. Hanbin sounding a lot happier? Talking about him? Now, Hao’s not dense. If anything, he’s too aware at times. But when you’ve been subjected to the pain of a secret break up, the torture of attempting to erase your ex out of your life, it’s hard to believe that such things could even be true.

Hanbin’s mood lifting because of Hao? Impossible! Hao wouldn’t dare attribute this happiness to himself despite the hard evidence that Hanbin has, indeed, been smiling a lot more around him lately, in addition to the fact that Hanbin has not seen anyone else besides him for the past two weeks. Nonetheless, there are always other external factors to take into account.

His doubt doesn’t stop him from asking self-indulgently, “Are you saying that he’s been happier because of me?”

Three different sounding sighs emerge from his friends, their faces overcome with impatience and frustration.

Ricky’s fingers twitch, like he’s imagining them curling around the collar of Hao’s shirt to shake some sense into him. “Ge, are you seriously asking us that.”

“Hey!” Hao’s neck grows hot in embarrassment. “I’m just asking for your input.”

“Hyung, I didn’t think you were this clueless.” Gyuvin shakes his head, disappointed.

“Wait,” Matthew chimes in. “So if you two didn’t fuck or get back together, what did you two do?”

“We just…” Hao thinks back to their time together over break, the quiet confessions, the abundance of tears, the hand holding and hugs, the returning comfort. “We just sat in each other’s presence and talked. Like the old days.”

Gyuvin’s eyes light up giddily. “And did any of those old feelings resurface?”

“They never went away in the first place.” Hao responds, surprisingly honest and raw. “I’ve never stopped loving him.” It’s the first time he admits this out loud, and it’s oddly cathartic, in a way, to finally stop putting up a mask, to finally stop lying to himself, and others.

The grave sincerity in Hao’s voice alarms them into silence.

“So,” Ricky begins tentatively. “Are you going to do anything about these feelings?”

Hao presses his lips together tightly and shakes his head.

“But you love him,” Gyuvin says, as if that would supply enough of a reason to get back together.

“It’s not that simple,” Hao mumbles sadly. Boy, does he fucking wish it would be that simple.

“Why? What else is there to it?”

Hao considers telling them everything, but he doesn’t know how to explain to his friends exactly why they can’t get back together. At least, in a way that wouldn’t worry them.

How does he tell them that everything seems to be tainted with this layer of uncertainty now, that he isn’t certain in himself yet, isn’t certain of never hurting Hanbin again, isn't certain if he’s learned anything, isn’t certain if the second time around will end up any better than the first. Isn’t certain that if things end disastrously again, if things are yanked up by the roots again, he’ll be able to recover. He doesn’t know what he’d even do if that were to happen.

There’s nothing he can say for sure, and he’s not brave enough to try, so the only way out is to act like a coward. And the cowardly way means to avoid and deflect, the way he’s mastered so well. Because to avoid and deflect guarantees one outcome: indifference. Though this outcome isn’t preferable, it’s the only one he can control, the only one he can say with enough certainty won’t hurt them terribly the way his other choices may.

Hao bites the insides of his cheeks and wills the weird brewing in his chest to disappear. Forcing an upbeat expression, he lets out a stilted laugh. “This conversation is getting kind of depressing, don’t you think? Let’s talk about something else.”

His friends glance at each other warily before launching into a new topic.

__________

Hao seems to have fallen back into his old habits back when he was fresh out of the break up, locking himself in his practice room, silencing all notifications, desperately trying to find a distraction to prevent himself from thinking.

He travels from his dorm, to his department building, to his cramped seventy square feet, soundproofed practice room. The grey walls and sharp white lights are enough to make him forget about the rest of the world, about what exists beyond the notes on his score. He immerses himself completely into the pulling of the bow, the metal digging into his fingers. It’s not ideal, but it’s a tried and true method, consistently effective.

It hurts a little, to undo all the progress that has developed since the beginning of break, all the hurdles they had to overcome to reach their current level of comfort.

On one hand, Hao’s grateful that they were given another chance to grow close again, that he was allowed the momentary reprieve, allowed to sink into the familiar intimacy of being understood and known. On the other hand, he thinks that it’s a little cruel that their galaxies curved their orbits just for them to end up brushing past each other again.

Still, some things just have to be done. Some sacrifices have to be made. He’s survived this once, he can do it again.

__________

Hanbin 10:17 am
[video attachment]
Hahaha, doesn’t that racoon look like you?

Hanbin 3:11 pm
Hey, missed you at lunch today
Where were you?
Want me to bring something over?

Hanbin 5:39 pm
I hope you ate today
Craving anything for dinner?

Hao 10:28 pm
sorry, i was practicing all day

Hanbin 10:30 pm
No worries
You hungry?
Knowing you, you definitely skipped your meals today haha

Hao 12:02 am
no it’s ok

Hanbin 12:09 am
Okay, get some rest
Goodnight

__________

Hanbin 9:34 am
Lol Matthew ditched me today to go see Gunwook
New bet incoming?
I’m putting money on my boy Matt
He won’t let me down

Hao 12:46 pm
lmao

Hanbin 12:50 pm
You’re not joining us for lunch again?

Hao 4:54 pm
sorry i was busy

Hanbin 4:54 pm
Are you skipping meals again?

Hao 4:56 pm
i’m not hungry

Hanbin 4:57 pm
You know if there’s anything wrong you can talk to me right?

Hanbin 6:35 pm
I left some food on your doormat
It’s convenience store kimbap and milk tea lol sorry
Didn’t have time to go to your favorite restaurant

Hao 8:23 pm
thank you
u didnt have to

Hanbin 8:31 pm
I wanted to.

Hanbin 11:19 pm
Goodnight Haohao
I hope you feel better soon

__________

Hao wakes up with a sore throat, a stuffy nose, a pounding headache, and a diminishing will to live. He places a weak hand on his forehead and groans to the best of his ability, but he just ends up hacking out his lungs instead. Rolling over on his sheets, he blindly fumbles for his phone on the nightstand to shoot a few emails to his professors to call in sick. Once that’s done, he stares at his ceiling, prepared for a day of mouth breathing and sudden chills wracking his body.

This must be karma for treating sweet, sweet Hanbin like absolute shit for the past few days. Yeah, of course Hao feels guilty for doing so. He never realised that Hanbin would be so persistent, offering his tenacious support. It’s gotten to the point where Hao begins to question himself if this is really the right way to end things. He sniffles and hugs his racoon plushie tightly.

No, this won’t do. Tossing the plushie aside, he plants his feet on the ground and forces himself up. His head spins from standing up to suddenly, but instead of flopping back down into his bed, he grips the wall and makes his way to the bathroom. He can’t spend all day moping in bed. He has to busy himself—less thinking more doing.

__________

Taerae 9:15 am
Where r u

Hao 9:16 am
woke up feeling like shit today
have fun in class alone
take some good notes for me

Taerae 9:16 am
[image attachment]

Hao 9:16 am
what is that…

Taerae 9:17 am
My middle finger
I had to be discreet cuz junhyeon is next to me

Hao 9:17 am
???
why
how
taerae.

Taerae 9:18 am
He asked to sit next to me
Prolly cuz u werent here

Hao 9:18 am
omfg congrats ur def freaking out rn lmfaooo
hope ur not embarrassing urself

Taerae 9:18 am
Dont doubt my poker face
Ok i gtg junhyeon is asking me something
Get well soon

Hao 9:18 am
thanks
go get your man!!!!

__________

At some point in the day, Hao is overcome with drowsiness and he falls asleep on the couch to the sounds of Abby Lee’s grating voice yelling over the dance moms in the background. Not the most pleasant of sounds, but he’s extremely tired, and his whole body aches. He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, or how long he’s been asleep for, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been nearly enough when he hears a relentless knocking on his door.

Hao blinks his groggy eyes open. His dorm is plunged in darkness. When did it get so late? He flickers on a dim lamp and stumbles to the door, disoriented, almost tripping over himself three times along the way.

“Who the hell?” He grumbles as he impatiently flings the door open, ready to spring all sorts of curses at whoever is disturbing him.

All the words die in his mouth as soon as his eyes trail up a familiar figure and he realizes who is standing at his door.

Fuck.

It's Hanbin.

To be more specific, it’s Hanbin, out of breath and heaving, beads of sweat rolling down his temples, dressed in a black tank top, tattoo on full display for the world to see. It’s a much too dangerous sight for Hao, one that makes his tongue go dry, especially when he hasn’t been exposed and strengthening his immunity to Hanbin’s perpetual sexiness lately.

“Taerae told me you were sick,” Hanbin huffs, propping himself up against the doorframe to catch his breath. “Are you okay? I brought some medicine in case you’ve run out.” He lifts his hands up, showing off the small plastic bag in his hands. Hao’s heart falls, ashamed to be receiving his care even after his horrible attitude for the past few days.

He ducks his head and stares elsewhere. Anywhere else that’s not the all too distracting tattoo, or the nearly imperceptible hurt in Hanbin’s eyes that he’s trying to mask so hard.

“Why are you here?”

“Because you’re avoiding me.” Hanbin counters immediately.

“I’m not,” he mumbles half heartedly. “I’ve just been busy lately.” He winces at his own sorry excuse of an explanation. There’s no doubt that Hanbin knows he’s lying.

“Hao, I’m not stupid. Just tell me why. Was it something I did? If so, let’s just talk it out. Come on, we’re better than this.” Hanbin steps into the dorm, shutting the door behind him with a little more force than usual. It makes a loud bang against the metal doorframe, and Hao flinches, shuffling backwards.

“It wasn’t anything you did.” He takes the plastic bag from Hanbin’s hands and sets it on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Then what is it?” Hanbin rakes his fingers through his hair impatiently. “I thought we…I thought we were doing better.”

Hao sighs and rearranges Hanbin’s sneakers against the wall, taking out his designated pair of slippers. He heads over to the couch to sit down in preparation for the conversation he can sense incoming. Hanbin’s brows are furrowed as he slides on the slippers and follows him.

“Hey, answer me.” Hanbin doesn’t sit down, but places his hands on either side of Hao, effectively caging him in a way. The couch dips on both sides from the weight.

“That’s the problem isn’t it?” Hao eyes drift down to their feet, their matching slippers. “We were doing so much better that people started thinking we were dating again. ”

There’s a long pause, filled by the sounds of Hanbin’s heavy breathing. “Is it?” He asks this so quietly that Hao isn’t sure if he’s heard him correctly.

Hao’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Is it a problem? Because I don’t think it’s a problem.” Hanbin stares directly at him, a borderline crazed look flashing through his eyes.

Hao sucks in a breath, mind racing with all sorts of questions. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

“I don’t have an issue with it at all.” Hanbin repeats. “Do you?” His face so, so close that Hao can’t breathe all of a sudden.

“What are you trying to say?” He whispers.

“Hao, I think you know what I’m trying to say.”

A part of Hao betrays him, internally cheering at the indirect confession. Because of course, of course, he and Hanbin are on the same page. Of course all this time, Hanbin’s been wanting the same thing too. Of course they would always be drawn to each other, would always try to complete their empty half.

But another part of him fills with dread, stomach sinking to his feet, fists curling up weakly, throat too tight. This dark part of him reminds him of why he began to distance himself in the first place, why it’s far too risky to take this leap of faith.

“We can’t,” he manages to wheeze out.

Hanbin’s eyes flitter back and forth, searching his face for an explanation. When Hao doesn’t provide any, he exhales slowly, as if letting out all the air trapped within him. Hao traces the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows dryly. “Can I ask you something then?” He asks, voice thick with emotion.

Hao nods, a sharp jerk of his head.

“Why did we break up in the first place?”

Hao’s lips involuntarily begin to quiver. Because, honestly speaking, to this day, Hao can’t accurately say why either. He doesn’t know how to comprehensively formulate his thoughts together, how to translate all his resentment and guilt and stubbornness into something that makes sense. His ability to express himself isn’t nearly sufficient enough for what Hanbin deserves and it tears him apart to think about it.

He isn’t enough for Hanbin.

This is the striking thought that emerges, that is the amalgamation of all the simmering, prickly feelings beneath his skin. This is the only explanation he can manage to voice out loud.

“Because I’m not what you want. Because it’s not fair to you. Because I’m always so consumed with my own issues, my own thoughts, and you deserve so much better than that.” Once Hao begins, he can’t stop anymore, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“Even back then, it felt like my problems had overtaken my love for you. And I don’t think I can ever be enough for you…and I can’t say for sure if I even have the ability within me to love you the way you deserve. Everything is always going to end up in pain and disaster because I’m just going to mess up again and I can’t bear to do that to you again because I—” Hao chokes, his vision beginning to blur. “I, well, I don’t even know if I can call what I feel for you love anymore because, these days, it just feels like I don’t know anything at all. I don’t think love should ever cause this much trouble and pain, so maybe what I’m feeling isn’t even worthy of being called love.”

Hao says all this in one large breath, as if he pauses, he won’t find the courage within him to explain it all again. He glances at Hanbin through his glassy eyes, trying his best to blink the pooling tears away.

“Well, can I ask you something again?” Hanbin prods gently. Hao ducks his head and sniffs.

Hanbin takes this as a ‘yes’, and proceeds to ask: “Do you still care about me?” He gently takes a hold of Hao’s face so that he’s looking directly into his eyes.

Hao goes wide eyed, alarmed that such a question could have even been asked, or even been thought of. How could Hanbin ask that when he’s all that has been on Hao’s mind ever since they met? That Hao finds himself caring a little bit too much sometimes?

“Of course!” He sputters indignantly, and Hanbin’s lips quirk up slightly at his offended tone. “I still care about you, even though I probably shouldn’t anymore, and it’s probably not even normal—the amount that I care about you.” His voice loses its charge, and grows timid as he continues. He averts his eyes and his head droops to the side, relying on Hanbin’s gentle hands to remain upright.

“You are someone who’s always going to be at the center of my mind because that’s just how it’s been, and how it always will be.” He swallows down the lump forming in his throat, determined to get his next words out, because Hao wants nothing more than to be transparent, to lay himself bare in front of Hanbin. “I will always try to find different ways to make you smile. I will always lie in bed and wonder how lucky I am to have met you. I will always want to give you everything good this world has to offer. That is how I care about you.”

“I love you Hao,” Hanbin blurts out suddenly, and by the look on his face, his wide eyes, it doesn’t seem like he was expecting to say that either.

“What?”

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to ever stop loving you,” Hanbin breathes out undoubtedly, like it’s the most simple truth. “I couldn’t even bring myself to try to pretend like I didn’t love you anymore because I knew it would have been fruitless. Even after everything, I still wanted to love you, because to deprive myself from loving you would have been a far harsher punishment than anything else.”

The tears slip out easily, running down Hao’s cheeks, and into his lap where his clenched fists bunch up the ends of his sweater. Hanbin cracks a grin and kneels down to bring them to eye level, allowing himself a better position to skim his thumb across Hao’s face, softly, tenderly, catching the remaining moisture.

“I really don’t know how to say this in a way that won’t sound horribly egotistical. So allow me to be selfish just this once, Hao: I think we could be happy together. No,” he corrects himself. “I know we would be happy together.

Sincerity roots itself in Hanbin’s low voice, to the point where Hao’s grip on all the reasons why they absolutely cannot get back together begins to falter. It all seems too tempting, too easy. Is it really alright for his dreams to come true so comfortably?

“How can you say that for sure?” Hao hates how insecure he sounds, how his voice cracks into a barely audible whisper, but above all, he hates the flicker of hope blooming in his chest—unprepared for any incoming harm, unguarded and vulnerable enough that once trampled will lay dormant forever. He prays that releasing this hope, allowing himself to feel this hope, isn’t a mistake.

“I know you, Hao. And I know us. And the ‘us’ that I know are two people who need and love and want each other.” The confidence in Hanbin’s eyes dissipates, replaced by uncertainty. “Unless I’m wrong? Tell me, do you want this as badly as I do?”

Hao turns his face, still in Hanbin’s hand, and mumbles into his palm, “I still don’t know what I’m doing these days.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m a hesitant person through and through. I fumble my words all the time. I don’t know how to convey what I really mean. I never seem to be able to grasp what the right thing to do is. I’m going to mess up around you a lot still.” Hao peeks up at Hanbin through his wet lashes that have clumped together. He swallows. “Is that…okay with you?”

Hanbin looks down at him, kind, patient, forgiving. “Of course, Hao. Like you’ve said before, we’re in this together.”

“Why are you so accepting of everything?” Hao asks, voice strained. “I’ve messed up again and again, and every time you forgive me so easily.”

A frown tugs at Hanbin’s lips, his brows drooping. “I wish you wouldn’t define yourself by your mistakes, wish you wouldn’t be so adamant on rejecting love and kindness. It hurts me when you think you aren’t worthy of such treatment, hyung.”

For once, Hao doesn’t know how to refute this, how to contort his flawed logic into a defense of sorts, to prove why he doesn’t deserve anything good. Everything he’s held himself to for all his life, all his unappeasable words, actions, mistakes, all suddenly give way to the unshakable kindness that manifests in Hanbin, his self perception succumbing to the undeniable love that they share. The love they’ve always shared.

“I want this too,” Hao says hastily, so as not to waste any more time denying himself of his happiness. “Us. I want us more than anything.”

Hanbin’s breath hitches, eyes welling up with tears. Hao can’t remember the last time he’s seen Hanbin cry. He crumples forward, and they both fall back into the couch, Hanbin’s head buried in Hao’s neck.

“Hyung,” his voice catches at the end, letting out warm, staggered breaths into Hao’s neck. “Thank you for giving us another chance.”

Hao’s heart yanks inside his chest. “No, Bin-ah. Thank you for everything. For trusting me, for believing in me, in us.”

Hanbin lifts his head, his pretty eyes gleaming with tears, his skin flushed and warm. His lips part carefully, as if reflecting on his next words. “Hyung, can I kiss you?”

Hao laughs wetly in surprise. “I’m sick, remember?”

Hanbin scowls. “I really could not care less. Do you know how much I’ve been holding back—”

Hao surges forward first, bringing their lips together, clamping his hands on the back of Hanbin’s neck.

His lips are slightly salty from the tears, but it’s perfect. Hao has thought about what it would feel like to kiss Hanbin again for the past three months, but the reality of his lips against Hanbin’s is so much better than his imagination.

Hanbin’s hands gently make their way to grab onto his waist, settling them in a way so that Hao is perched on his lap. Hao rakes his fingers through Hanbin’s hair, his tongue exploring as much as possible, remembering the way he goes for the top lip, the way Hanbin goes for his bottom lip, the way their noses press gently, slotting together like a perfect puzzle. It’s perfect. Everything is perfect.

Hao breaks away, gasping for air, a string of saliva between them. Hanbin, with his eyes closed, whines and chases after his lips. Hao giggles and tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. “So eager,” he comments with a smirk.

“Fuck,” Hanbin groans into Hao’s lips. His fingers twirl around the hair at the nape of Hao’s neck and he tugs gently, eliciting a soft sigh from Hao. “I’ve just missed this. Kissing you. Touching you.”

Hao lets out a needy whimper and dives back in, his hands roaming up and down Hanbin’s back in an effort to touch as much of the man at once as possible. His body feels like it’s on fire, heat pooling in the bottom of his stomach, filled with so much want, a flame that only burns for Hanbin.

“Ah–” Hao pants out softly, as Hanbin slips a hand underneath his sweater, fingers running across his stomach. “Hanbin–”

“Is this okay?” He asks gruffly, eyes dark with desire.

“Yeah, but—” Hao whispers. “Not here. Bedroom.”

Hanbin nods with understanding. In one swift motion, he gathers Hao up in his arms and carries him to his room.

Hao lets out a breathy laugh at the situation, lips tingling and swollen, feet dangling over as he’s cradled in Hanbin’s arms. “So do we start our count from day one or do we continue from where we left off three months ago?”

Hanbin glances down, closing the door behind him with his foot. “Do we have to talk about the technicalities right now? That’s so unsexy.”

Hao falls onto his sheets, Hanbin hovering over him. “I want to know when we should celebrate our anniversaries.”

“Everyday spent with you,” Hanbin presses a kiss into his jaw, and nips at the skin before trailing down his neck. “Is worth celebrating.”

“S-smooth,” Hao stammers, hips bucking.

Hanbin’s lips make his way to his collarbones but his access is obstructed by the thick material of his sweater. Hao paws helplessly at his sweater as he whines, “Take this off me.”

“At your command, boyfriend,” Hanbin smirks and Hao’s heart skips a beat.

Boyfriendboyfriendboyfriendboyfriendboyfriend.

“Say that again.”

Hanbin releases his lips from Hao’s chest and laughs. “What? Boyfriend?”

“Again.”

“Boyfriend.”

“Again.”

“Boyfriend,” Hanbin kisses his forehead; “boyfriend,” a kiss to his nose; “boyfriend,” a kiss on the mole below his eye.

Hao wants to bottle up the way the word sounds rolling off of Hanbin’s tongue. Wants to engrave the feeling of Hanbin’s warm lips on his skin into every fold and crease of his brain. He thinks that he might be the happiest man alive.

The next morning Hanbin wakes up with a suspiciously sore throat and stuffy nose. He rolls over and plants a soft kiss at the edges of Hao’s mouth, smiling way too bright for someone who’s been contaminated with a sickness.

“More the reason to kiss you,” he supplies as an explanation when Hao shoots him an inquisitive but amused look.

The logic is flawed and doesn’t make much sense, but who is Hao to argue with that?

__________

This week’s mandatory dinner is at Haidilao, courtesy of Ricky, who had immediately hung up on Hao to book a reservation after hearing the good news.

“I heard Ricky booked a private room,” Hanbin whispers as the waitress at Haidilao leads them to the very back of the restaurant, a section that even Hao, the Haidilao frequenter, has never explored before.

“A private room?” Hao glances at the big empty tables they had walked past. “That’s not necessary, is it? I think we could’ve fit at those tables.”

“It’s Ricky, you know he always goes the extra mile. Besides, I think they’re planning something. I sense something ominous in the air.” Hanbin shudders, squeezing their hands together tightly.

The waitress leads them to a door before giving them a quick bow and rushing off.

“Okay, let’s see what these idiots are up to,” Hao says, twisting the doorknob.

“Congrats!” Seven different pitches greet them as they enter, and they’re immediately showered in party poppers and confetti.

Hao, who is easily spooked, screams at the top of his lungs and collapses backwards into Hanbin, who laughs heartily, his whisker dimples carving deep into his cheeks. He’s laughing so hard that he’s gasping for air while clutching onto Hao’s shoulders.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Hao grumbles dryly as he collects himself, cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment. But the sound of Hanbin’s laughter is so delightful that he can feel himself releasing a small smile.

“That was such a success,” Matthew whoops as he high fives Gunwook. “You reacted so much better than we expected.”

“Nah, I expected Hao-hyung to be like this, that’s why I told Ricky-hyung to book a private room.” Yujin teases, taking Hao’s free hand and leading him to the center of the room. “Anyways, look!” He points ahead.

Taped messily onto the wall, by either Gyuvin or Jiwoong from the aesthetics of it, are many different lettered balloons spelling out:

CNOGRTAS TO UOR PRAENTS HABOIN!

Hao blinks. Is this some sort of secret code? He turns towards Hanbin for help. “Um, what exactly am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Not sure,” Hanbin tilts his head as if looking at it from a different angle will give him the answers.

Taerae storms over, throwing his hands up in the air. “God!” He cries out partly in frustration at the mishap and partly in horror that such a simple task could have even resulted in such a disaster. “You people can’t do anything!”

Gunwook stifles a laugh. “Jiwoong hyung, how did you even manage to mess up the spelling so badly?”

Jiwoong, as unbothered by the chaos as always, simply shrugs. “Time was a bit tight,” he replies, but from the twinkle in his eye and the faint smirk on his lips, Hao speculates that it was done on purpose.

Ricky and Taerae fix the balloons, because the only person in the room that Taerae deemed reliable enough was Ricky. When they step back the balloons now spell:

CONGRATS TO OUR PARENTS HAOBIN!

Both Hao and Hanbin let out a noise of understanding. “Ohhh.”

“See? If they had understood it the first time, they would’ve shown a better reaction!” Taerae crosses his arms.

“Alright bro, maybe you should just admit that it wasn’t that good of an idea in the first place. I told you we should’ve made a banner instead.” Gyuvin chides, before realizing his mistake in picking a fight with an already ticked off Taerae. He cowers behind Ricky, but Taerae grabs a hold of him anyways.

“Okay, okay, settle down,” Hanbin’s eyes dance with mirth as he tries to pry them apart, stopping Taerae from clutching onto Gyuvin’s collar. “We really liked the balloons, right, baby?”

“Yeah!” Hao gives Taerae not one, but two thumbs up and a grin. “Really nifty idea!”

Matthew doubles over in laughter at the disgusted look on Taerae’s face. “Man, this is just too good!”

“Okay, that’s enough. Let’s just eat, guys,” Ricky calls out. When everyone looks over, he’s already seated at the head of the table, like a CEO. Gyuvin prances over to take his rightful seat next to him, and the rest follow suit, crowding around the iPad to order. Because food is the only remedy that will get all nine of them to meet at a general consensus.

Before Hao can make his way over, he feels himself being tugged back. He glances at the hand on his wrist, and then up at the owner of said hand. It’s Jiwoong, all the mischievous glint in his eyes replaced by the utmost sincerity.

“You two have never looked better,” he says, his perfect features pulling into a small smile. “I never want to intrude because you’re always so stubborn in doing things on your own, but I just wanted to remind you that I’m still your hyung. It’s okay to lean on me sometimes. And not just me, but all of us, too. We all just want the best for you. I’m happy it all worked out in the end, Hao.”

Hao allows his nose to burn, the first sign that he’s about to cry. He allows the tears to spring into his eyes, because how can he not, when surrounded in so much good? When his friends fiercely exchange their love, devote themselves to the well beings of each other, smother each other with a kindness prominent even in their teasing remarks. Hao has so much love in his heart for all of them that he doesn’t know how he’s able to contain it. He thinks the scientists studying his heart in the future will find his love overflowing, extras stuffed in the nooks and crannies of each organ and tissue in his body, radiating off his skin.

“Thank you, Jiwoong-hyung,” he sniffles.

“Nothing to thank me for,” he says, and Hao gets a sudden deja vu from when Hanbin had said the same thing.

But he gets it now, that love and friendship and warmth stem from this unwavering support without the expectation of reward, that he loves his friends because they’re them, and they love him because he’s him, including all his flaws and successes, the ugly and the beautiful.

Jiwoong releases his grip from Hao’s wrist and jerks his chin towards the direction of the table, where Hanbin stands staring them down. “Sorry, I think our Hambinnie was getting a little jealous.” Hao hides his smile with the back of his hand.

Jiwoong laughs goodnaturedly. “Let’s go order, Hao. But don’t overorder—I think Gunwook got you a durian cake but you didn’t hear that from me,” he winks.

__________

“Alright, whose place are we heading to to continue this partayyyy!” Matthew yells out loud, clambering onto his chair. Hao is extremely grateful that they’re in a private room right now so he can laugh instead of slumping down into his seat and pretending like he doesn’t know him.

Gunwook, who’s holding a steady grip on the back of the chair to ensure Matthew doesn’t fall, checks the handy spreadsheet on his phone. “Taerae’s,” he announces after scrolling down.

“Fuck!” Taerae wails, dropping his head back. “Are you serious? I’m not prepared to host eight people tonight. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Hey!” Matthew wags his finger in Taerae’s direction. “Don’t blame Wookie!”

“I’m not blaming your precious Wookie and get off the chair you lunatic. You’re going to fall over and I’ll laugh in your face.”

“Taerae,” Hanbin chimes in. “If it helps, you only have to host six people tonight. I think Hao-hyung and I are going to call it a day here.”

Hao’s hand freezes, a forkful of durian cake halfway into his mouth. “We are?”

“Unless you want to stay?” Hanbin raises an eyebrow.

Hao weighs the options in his mind. Spending the rest of the night cuddling in bed with Hanbin does seem like a far better option than spending the rest of the night worrying about noise complaints from Taerae’s neighbors. But there’s one problem…

“Well, I was planning to finish the rest of the durian cake at Taerae’s…” He pouts, staring sadly at the unfinished cake that’s hidden in a container to trap the smell.

Hanbin looks at him confused. “Why can’t you eat the rest at home?”

Hao looks around the table. “Is that okay with you guys? You guys don’t want any more?”

“Ge, look around. No one else is eating that shit except for you.” Ricky scrunches his nose.

“Except for Hanbin hyung ‘cause he’s a loser.” Gyuvin snorts.

“O-kay!” Hanbin stands up, gathering the box of durian cake in one arm and smacking the back of Gyuvin’s head with the other. “So it’s decided! We’ll be setting off early!” He pulls Hao out of his chair and helps him put on his sweater, guiding his arms through the sleeves.

“Do you think they left because they’re tired of us?” He hears Yujin whisper as they leave, hand in hand, fingers intertwined.

“Nah, they left ‘cause they’re fucking tonight for sure,” Matthew snorts right as the door shuts.

Hao admits that there’s some truth to his words.

__________

Hao places his chin on Hanbin’s shoulder as they stand in front of the stove, watching their noodles boil for their after-dinner-dinner.

Hanbin hums a soft tune, one that Hao recognizes as a piece he’s been working on for the past few days.

“How did you learn to hum my piece already? I just started this one two days ago,” Hao giggles.

Hanbin turns his head slightly to look into Hao’s eyes. “Baby, I don’t think you realize how many times you’ve played this in front of me. I think I can hum the whole first four pages in its entirety.”

Hao huffs. “Not fair. You watch me practice all the time but I haven’t seen you dance in so long.”

Hanbin laughs at the indignant tone of his voice. “Our dance concert was just three weeks ago!”

Hao thinks back to that fateful day of the dance concert, stepping in line with Hanbin while pushing the heavy cart of boxes, the accidental slip of the tongue that had spurred the following two weeks of tears and confessions, but also laughter and embraces.

“It doesn’t feel like three weeks ago,” Hao pouts into his shoulder.

Hanbin angles his body so they’re facing each other now. “True,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to Hao’s nose. “So much happened in such a short amount of time.”

“I’m so grateful, though.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Hao glances up at him through his lashes, eyes tracing the features of his boyfriend’s face, the perpetual pink tint, the soft creases of his dimples, the gentle curve of his lips. “I love you, Bin-ah. So much.”

Hanbin’s eyes shine in adoration. “I love you too, baby.”

Hao shakes his head. “I mean like I love you in ways that are unimaginable.”

“Who said I’m not the same?” Hanbin tousles his hair. Hao squints at him and combs his fingers through his own hair to fix it.

“No, I love you in ways that are probably detrimental to society.” He explains, because the words ‘I love you’ don’t exactly encompass the fuzzy feeling that blooms in his chest when he lays eyes on Hanbin.

“Stop trying to one-up me, hyung.” Hanbin purses his lips amusedly.

“No, I don’t think you get it—” He’s cut off as Hanbin’s eyes grow alarmingly wide and he pulls Hao behind him with a yelp.

“The noodles!” He exclaims as he rushes to turn off the stove to prevent the water from overflowing. Grabbing the tongs to quickly fish them out, he moves around the kitchen with practiced ease (this practice, most likely, comes from cleaning up Hao’s kitchen mishaps, because lord knows he’s had a lot of them).

“By the way, whatever you’re about to say to try to prove that your love is bigger than mine, just know that I’m the exact same way.” He pours out the starchy water into the kitchen sink as Hao stands back, knowing that he won’t be of much help in situations like these.

“Hanbin just accept the fact that I’m probably more insane than you,” Hao sighs.

Hanbin spins around abruptly and glares. “Never.”

“You know I’m always right!” Hao stomps his feet.

“Nuh-uh.”

As he watches Hanbin try to salvage their overcooked noodles, all he can think about is how happy he is. How utterly joyful he feels, how his whole body vibrates with the same warm energy that has not disappeared since kissing Hanbin. How appreciative he is to himself for finding his bravery, to Hanbin for believing in them, to his friends for their endless support. How thankful he is to find love everywhere he looks.

“I really, really, really, really love you, Hanbin.” Hao repeats. “More than anything in the world.”

Hanbin groans. “Come on, are we going to be doing this for the rest of the night?”

“Yeah,” because Hao never backs down.

“I’m gonna have to politely ask you to shut up.” Hanbin turns around after he’s given up on the noodles. “Or else I’m attacking you.”

“Ha, try me.” Hao sticks out his tongue.

Hanbin lunges forward and attacks him by peppering his face with kisses until Hao finally concedes with a roll of his eyes while trying to hide his growing smile. There are worse things they could be arguing over.

Hao surrenders his stubbornness and melts into Hanbin’s love.