Chapter Text
Suho props his phone against a carton of chocolate milk, balancing it carefully so Sieun can see the chaos of the cafeteria behind him. He’s got his earphones as the only way to make out anything over the wall of sound that fills the room.
“See?” he says, raising his voice a little, “I told you it’s loud. I barely survived yesterday.”
Sieun’s face, lit by the pale light from a window beside him, fills the screen. He’s in an empty classroom. His blazer hangs off the back of a chair, his expression calm in that usual, infuriating way that makes Suho want to kiss the daylights out of him.
“You look fine to me,” he says, sipping coffee from a can, “Second day and you’re already exaggerating.”
“I’m not exaggerating,” Suho protests. “It’s like everyone decided to talk at once just to test my patience.”
“Mm. That’s college.”
The door swings open and a crowd of new students files in.
“Baku and Hyeontak are getting lunch. I’m just trying not to look like a lost freshman until they show up.”
“You are a lost freshman,” Sieun says mildly, though his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile.
“Rude.”
The camera wobbles as Suho adjusts phone. He sweeps it across the tables again, showing him the entire cafeteria. It’s to satiate his need for Sieun to see everything he sees, for Sieun to know everything he knows.
Sieun’s voice cuts in sharper than usual, “Wait. Go back.”
“Huh?” Suho turns the camera halfway back, “Where?”
“By the vending machines. Yeah. Stop there.”
Suho freezes the frame, confusion written across his face, “You’re just looking at people eating chips.”
Sieun doesn’t answer right away. He leans in, eyes narrowing, gaze fixed somewhere off-screen. His silence stretches long enough for Suho to tilt his head.
“….what?”
Sieun blinks and whatever he was thinking smooths right off his face, “Nothing. Thought I saw someone I knew.”
Suho squints, “Who?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Sieun.”
“Suho,” Sieun replies, perfectly even.
“Come on, just tell me. Don’t pull the mysterious act.”
Sieun takes another sip of coffee, “I’ll tell you later. When you’re home.”
“That’s suspicious,” Suho says, “Who do you know that I don’t? You’re not about to tell me you saw an ex or something, right?”
That earns a quiet laugh, “You’re impossible.”
“You’re lucky I like you, you know” Suho smiles despite himself
A faint smile tugs at Sieun’s lips, “I am.”
“I never know what to do when you agree with me so sweetly” Suho protests.
The noise behind Suho swells again, Baku calling his name, Hyeontak following with two trays. Suho glances toward them, then back at his phone.
“I’ll call you later?”
“Mm. Don’t forget.” Sieun says. Like Suho would ever forget, like Suho doesn’t think of him every waking hour.
“Wouldn’t dare. I love you.”
Sieun mutters an “I love you” back but not without a blush rising.
“You’re so cute”
He picks up the phone one last time, catching the faint upward curl of Sieun’s mouth before the call ends. The noise of the cafeteria rushes back in full, but for a few seconds, Suho still feels like he’s in that quiet, sunlit classroom with him.
The library is quiet, nothing audible except soft footsteps and the occasional creak of a chair. The noise of the cafeteria, the blur of faces and voices, got too much too soon. Experiencing life truly hasn’t been the same since his coma. The library, at least, is bearable. He’s only here to catch a short nap before his next class
He turns a corner and stops. At one of the back tables, a figure sits half-hidden behind an open book. For a moment, Suho just watches him. His brown jacket’s dark sleeves pulled down past his wrists. His face has those sharp, symmetrical lines people might call handsome but the effect is dulled like he’s been hollowed out from the inside. There’s something tired about him but not the kind of tired that sleep fixes. Suho hesitates, weighing whether it’s worth the effort to say anything. But curiosity wins out, same as it always does.
“Hey,” he says softly, careful not to startle him, “You’re in my literature elective, right?”
The guy looks up.There’s a beat before he seems to decide whether to acknowledge Suho at all. He pulls one earphone out, “I’m in a literature elective. Don’t know if you’re in it.”
Suho shifts his weight, tries a friendly smile, “Didn’t think I’d see you again after you bolted the other day.”
“I didn’t bolt,” the guy says quietly. His tone is flat. Suho wouldn’t call it defensive. It’s closed-off, at most.
You kind of did. I thought maybe I’d done something to freak you out.”
“You didn’t.”
Suho gives a half-smile, “Cool. I was starting to think I gave off hostile energy or something.”
“You don’t.”
“Good to know,” Suho says, “So, uh, what’s your name?”
The silence that follows is heavy enough that Suho can hear the hum of the fluorescent lights above them.
“….why?” the guy asks at last.
“Just curious,” Suho says. “Trying to get to know people. I’m new here.”
The guy’s eyes meet his, “Then start with someone else.”
Suho blinks, “….right. Didn’t mean to bother you.”
“Look, I’m not trying to be rude,” the guy says quietly, setting his book down. His fingers rest flat on the page, knuckles pale, “I just want to be left alone.”
Suho studies him for a moment. In his words, there a weariness that feels too old for his age. The same kind of dull ache Suho used to see in Sieun’s eyes.
The guy has already turned back to his book. The curtain is back in place, shutting out the world.
As Suho walks away, he glances back once. Suho lets out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Weird guy,” he mutters though it doesn’t sound unkind.
He goes to a different part of the library and tries to drift off to sleep but the image of the guy with the bowed head and the quiet heaviness of someone carrying feelings bigger than themselves stays with him.
Suho gets home before Sieun.
The apartment is small, but it feels a little too quiet without him in it. Suho leaves his shoes by the door and lets the silence settle, then pads into the kitchen to start dinner. Rolling up his sleeves, tying the apron Sieun always ends up untying, humming softly under his breath while the rice cooker clicks on is muscle memory now.
He likes it when Sieun comes home to warm food. Suho’s halfway through chopping scallions when the door clicks open.
“I’m home,” comes Sieun’s voice, a little rough, probably from not talking all day.
Suho glances back to see Sieun’s backpack sliding off his shoulder. He looks like he’s been running on caffeine and sheer willpower all day.
“You look like a ghost,” Suho teases.
Sieun exhales a quiet laugh, dropping his things onto the counter, “You say that like it’s news.”
“Come here.”
Sieun walks over obediently, and Suho doesn’t even bother turning off the stove before wrapping his arms around him. Sieun melts into the hug, forehead pressed against Suho’s collarbone.
“You’re warm,” Sieun murmurs, muffled.
“That’s ‘cause you’re freezing,” Suho says, rubbing small circles on his back,“You didn’t eat again, did you?”
“I had coffee.”
“That’s not food.”
“Had sugar,” Sieun argues softly.
Suho groans, “You’re irresponsible.”
“And you nag.”
“Only because I care.”
“I know,” Sieun says simply. It makes Suho’s chest ache in that too-full, too-soft kind of way.
He pulls back just enough to look at him. Sieun’s eyes are tired but they’re clear. There’s always something grounding about it, something that feels like home.
“Sit,” Suho says, nodding toward the counter stool. “I’ll finish up.”
Sieun obeys, resting his chin on his hand while watching Suho cook. He’s half-focused, half-drifting, and it makes Suho grin.
“You’re staring,” Suho says.
“I’m allowed to stare at my handsome boyfriend,” Sieun replies, deadpan.
“Flatterer.”
“Cook faster.”
When Suho finally sets down the food, Sieun reaches across the counter and steals a bite before Suho even sits.
“Hey,” Suho protests just for the sake of protesting. He’s glad Sieun is like this now.
Sieun just smirks. They eat quietly. Sieun occasionally nudges Suho’s hand away to feed him instead, and Suho leans forward, biting the chopsticks with exaggerated affection that makes Sieun laugh despite himself. It’s easy. Familiar.
Halfway through dinner, Suho remembers the call.
“Hey,” he says casually, “about that video call earlier.”
Sieun hums without looking up.
“You told me to point the camera back. Why?”
Sieun pauses for half a second before answering, “I thought I saw someone.”
“Who?”
“Probably no one.”
Suho squints, “That’s the voice you use when you’re lying.”
Sieun lifts his eyes, amused but tired, “You’re very nosy, you know.”
“Occupational hazard of being in love with you,” Suho says, grinning. “So tell me.”
There’s a small silence, and then Sieun sighs, “Remember I told you about that guy? Keum Seongje?”
“The one from the Union? The guy who came to the hospital when I was in a coma? The guy who threatened you?” Suho stills.
Sieun nods lightly, “Yeah. I think I saw him.”
Suho frowns. “Think?”
“I’m not sure,” Sieun says, his voice low and even. “It was just for a moment. Could’ve been someone else.”
“But if it was him—”
“It’s been years, Suho,” Sieun says gently, cutting him off. “Even if it was him, it probably has nothing to do with us.”
Suho doesn’t look convinced. His hand reaches across the counter, finding Sieun’s fingers and squeezing them, “I don’t like that he was anywhere near you before. I really don’t like that he might be near us now.”
Sieun’s thumb brushes over his knuckles in quiet reassurance. “I know. But don’t bring it up with Baku or Hyeontak, okay? It’ll only make them worry.”
Suho sighs, but nods. “Fine. I won’t.”
Sieun tilts his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips, “Promise?” He smiles because he knows even without a promise, Suho wouldn’t do anything he tells him not to.
Suho smiles back tenderly, “Promise.”
Sieun’s gaze lingers on him for a moment longer before he lets out a quiet breath, shoulders relaxing. He goes back to eating, but his free hand stays loosely tangled with Suho’s.
Later, when the dishes are done and Sieun’s at the table again, notes spread open under the lamp, Suho leans against the doorway just watching him. Sometimes Suho still can’t believe this is real. He gets to come home to Sieun. He cant believe that after everything, they’ve found something this ordinary and gentle.
He crosses the room, presses a kiss to the top of Sieun’s head.
Sieun hums, “What was that for?”
“Just because I can.”
Sieun shakes his head, but there’s a smile hidden in his voice when he murmurs, “You’re ridiculous.”
Suho slips his arms around his shoulders and rests his chin on his head.
Sieun’s hand comes up, brushing against Suho’s forearm. It’s soft, wordless affection.
The first week of classes slips by faster than Suho expects. By Saturday, he’s itching to move again, something to shake off the routine. A message lights up his phone around three:
Park Super-humin
🏀 Court in ten. Don’t be late, old man.
Suho heads out, not without pestering Sieun to snack on some fruit.
The university court is already alive when he gets there. A speaker is playing something bass-heavy. Hyeontak’s on the far side of the court stretching, Baku’s dribbling right by him just to annoy him and Jeonghan, Seungkwan and Jiwon are scattered around.
Jiwon waves when he spots him, smiling like he’s just been waiting for the chance, “Suho! You actually came!”
“Of course I did,” Suho says, slapping his hand. “Someone has to keep these guys humble.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Jeonghan mutters, tying his laces.
Seungkwan laughs, “The day Humin hyung gets humble is the day I graduate with honors.”
“So, in three years?” Suho asks.
Seungkwan perks up and almost hugs him, “You’re the only one who believes in me”
That earns a round of laughter and the warm, easy energy of it all settles quickly.
They divide teams into Suho, Jeonghan, Seungkwan versus Hyeontak, Jiwon and Baku.
The moment the game starts, Suho notices how Jiwon plays around Hyeontak.
“Nice pass,” Jiwon says, brushing his shoulder against Hyeontak’s as they jog back, “Still good at making me look better than I am.”
“You’re doing that all by yourself,” Hyeontak replies, trying to sound flat but Suho catches the flicker of a smile tugging at his mouth.
When Jiwon grins, it’s the kind of grin that stays in his eyes more than his lips. He keeps finding reasons to get close to Hyeontak; a hug that’s a bit too long after a point, a pat on Hyeontak’s arm when they switch sides, brushing the sweat from his own forehead with a crooked grin that feels almost shy.
Suho nudges Jeonghan, “He’s so obvious.”
Jeonghan snorts, “You think? It’s been three years. It’s practically tradition now.”
“Wait,” Suho says, “he’s liked Hyeontak for that long?”
“Yeah,” Seungkwan says between sips of water. “Probably longer. I heard they went to the same school. Hyeontak just never notices.”
Suho laughs under his breath, “Of course he doesn’t.”
By the time the game ends, everyone’s sweaty and sprawled out under the shade near the court. Baku’s pretending to die, Jeonghan’s peeling open a sports drink, Seungkwan is making exaggerated commentary about his “superior defense” and Jiwon’s sitting beside Hyeontak, knees drawn up, hair damp.
He glances sideways at Hyeontak, voice low, “You make it really hard to focus on the game sometimes, you know.”
“Don’t blame me for your missed shots?”
Jiwon laughs, a soft huff that makes Hyeontak glance over. Then, he bumps his knee lightly against Hyeontak’s.
A few feet away, Jeonghan stage-whispers to Suho, “Oh, it’s happening.”
“Finally,” Seungkwan mutters, “I’m watching a three-year slow burn unfold in real time.”
Suho grins, “We’re witnessing history.”
Afterward, Suho, Baku and Hyeontak end up in the latters’ dorm, messy but not unhygienic. Hopefully.
Baku’s the first to start, “Okay, so are we gonna pretend Jiwon wasn’t flirting with you the entire time today too?”
Hyeontak gives him a flat look, “He was just being friendly.”
“Friendly doesn’t entail heart eyes,” Suho says, leaning back in his chair, “Dude, he was using rom-com phrases on you. Even I don’t do that with Sieun.”
“You totally do” Baku says, along with Hyeontak’s, “He’s always been like that. Since high school.”
“Yeah,” Baku interjects a little too loudly, “because he’s been into you since high school, too.”
There’s a beat of silence. Hyeontak is looking at his phone but his ears go faintly pink.
Suho grins, “You like him too, don’t you?”
Hyeontak sighs, “He’s not bad.”
Baku nearly explodes, “That’s the most emotionally vulnerable thing you’ve said all semester. You’re in deep.”
“The semester just started. Stop exaggerating.”
“Text him.” Suho says suddenly.
“What?”
“Text him,” Suho repeats. “Just see what happens. You’ve known him forever. You might as well.”
Hyeontak stares at his phone like it’s daring him, “What would I even say?”
“Something casual. Flirty but casual. Should I ask Sieun?”
“When has Sieun ever been casual?”
“Don’t deflect” Baku says, leaning forward, “Make it sound like a challenge or a joke. You’re good at those.”
Hyeontak sighs again but opens his messages anyway. After a minute of typing and deleting and cringing, he lands on:
I heard you’ve been flirting with me since high school.
I’m free tomorrow if you want to take me out.
Baku slaps the bed, “Perfect!”
Suho laughs, “Send it, send it”
Hyeontak hits send. When it buzzes a few minutes later, he tries not to look but Suho and Baku are already watching him like hawks.
There’s a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth when he reads the reply.
Kim Jiwon
You finally noticed? I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow
Baku whoops, “WE DID IT!”
Suho grins, nudging Hyeontak’s shoulder.
Hyeontak shakes his head, trying to hide his smile
Night has fallen by the time Suho decides to head home. The campus paths glow dimly under the streetlights. Baku and Hyeontak decide to walk Suho to the bus stop. Baku, still riding the high of Hyeontak’s text to Jiwon, talks loud enough for the whole dorm block to hear.
“I swear, when you hit send, you looked like you were about to faint,” he says, laughing.
“Because you wouldn’t stop talking,” Hyeontak replies, shoving him lightly.
“It got you a date. Free dinner, probably.” Suho shrugs.
Hyeontak mutters something under his breath but his mouth twitches. This rhythm is easy. It’s just their voices, the hum of night, the faint creak of the campus gate up ahead. Then, something shifts.
Suho slows. Near the curb just outside the gate, someone is crouched beneath the streetlight, pouring milk from a carton into a shallow lid. A stray cat hovers close, wary but tempted. The man speaks softly, hand steady, patient. The kind of calm that makes even the air feel gentler.
And then Suho recognizes him.
“Oh,” Suho says, half-turning toward his friends, “That’s him. The guy I told you about..”
But he stops when he sees their faces. Baku’s expression shifts first, laughter draining out of him, quickly replaced by something dark, sharp-edged. His jaw tightens, his eyes harden. The shift is stark buy Hyeontak is worse.
He freezes completely. The color drains from his face but there’s unmistakable recognition in his eyes. It’s not an expression of seeing someone one knows but of seeing someone one remembers.
The man looks up as though he feels the intensity of the gaze too. His gaze flickers toward them, finds Hyeontak, and stops.
For a moment, neither of them move. The streetlight hums faintly between them. Suho can feel the air tightening, though he doesn’t understand why.
The man’s face softens, almost imperceptibly. There’s a flash of surprise, then something smaller, a kind-of tired sorrow that Suho doesn’t have words for.
The cat rubs against his ankle. He glances down, strokes it once and then straightens. His eyes meet Hyeontak’s again. It’s wordless but heavier than the weight of the whole world. Then he turns and walks away, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by the dark.
Suho turns to his friends, uneasy, “You know him?”
Baku’s jaw works silently for a moment before he says, low and strained, “Yup.” His anger hasn’t faded, but it’s mixed now with concern. It’s fierce protectiveness.
Hyeontak’s eyes are still fixed on the spot where the man disappeared. His voice, when it comes, is barely audible, “Didn’t expect to see him again.”
That’s all he says.
Baku looks at him, worry threading through the frown. The silence stretches. A night breeze moves through the trees. The cat’s gone now too.
Suho watches Hyeontak for a moment longer. The slight tremor in his hand, the way his expression has gone completely unreadable give something away now.
It’s the look of someone whose old wounds have just been torn open like they never healed at all.
As if to prove Suho’s thoughts right, Hyeontak suddenly runs in the direction the man walked towards.