Chapter Text
The door on Treasure Café burst open and out a guy on his late twenties so furious he tripped over the small trash bin just beside the door, spilling its contents. A couple of strangers saw this as they walked past the café and our guy cursed into the night, pulling his jacket tighter around his body. He shivered. He could feel his eyes begin to well. The door of the Café opened again and out another guy a few inches taller and with a slightly bigger build than the former.
"What the hell, Junkyu?" he said, walking up to our guy.
That was all it took for our guy Junkyu to lose it altogether. He covered one hand over his eyes quick enough to hide the tears but he was sobbing at this point, frustration taking its toll. He ruffled his hair and pressed down his bangs to his forehead in an attempt to shadow his eyes.
"Fuck. You fucking bastard."
The other guy was taken aback. Never had Junkyu used such language, not in the six-month they had been together, in fact never to anyone, as far as he could remember.
Realizing he was embarrassing himself in public, Junkyu huffed. He was a little bit breathless, but he wiped his tears dry with his hands, then with his hood. He bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling and pulled himself together. His mind was racing with things he could and wanted to say to Jihoon but if he so much as speak, he knew he'd start crying again. He let his exhaustion engulf him. He was done for the day.
"I'm goin—" he hiccupped, "I'm heading back to the apartment."
A moment. No reply. He wanted to cry again. A taxi in sight, he took a deep breath then hailed the cab. The taxi pulled in front of them. Despite Jihoon's silent treatment, Junkyu still managed to say goodbye before getting into the cab. He looked up when something or someone kept him from closing the door. Jihoon got in and Junkyu, though still surprised, didn't have a choice but to scoot over.
"Petersons', please," he said to the driver.
"Where in Petersons', sir?"
"Across the convenience store?"
The driver nodded then took off.
Junkyu leaned back; his face averted from Jihoon. He kept his gaze to the window and watched the lights blur into small and big dots. Not that he was expecting Jihoon to talk, not really. Jihoon fought fire with fire. Like always. The very reason Junkyu had stormed out of that coffee shop in the first place.
They had never argued, publicly or just together. Now that Junkyu came to think of it, they had never really fought. Maybe once, but that wasn't exactly a fight. Normally, when something was up, one just simply stopped talking to the other. Tonight's was the first. Words were involved—nasty at that, mostly from Jihoon. They were etched in Junkyu's mind now, and now that it's coming back to him, he wanted to kick Jihoon off the cab.
The quiet, painful drive to Junkyu's apartment took half an hour, thanks to the terrible traffic. Junkyu was thankful of the driver as well, who did not initiate a small talk and therefore impeded the possibility of having to hear Jihoon open his nasty mouth. Junkyu paid the driver and immediately stepped out of the cab. To his surprise, he heard Jihoon do the same. The cab took off.
Scowling, Junkyu snapped at Jihoon, "What are you doing?"
Jihoon's smug face turned to Junkyu and met his eyes. Junkyu rolled his eyes and looked away.
"I'm sleeping over," said Jihoon.
Junkyu ignored this and walked past Jihoon. He fumbled for his keys in his small messenger bag. He felt Jihoon behind him and he had to look.
"Go home, Jihoon," he said, almost pleading. He wanted to curse himself for sounding the way he did and for saying Jihoon's name. Now he had stripped off of his angry façade.
You're too polite, Junkyu, you just can't help it, Jihoon commented once. And this was not a compliment. They were on a flea market one day. An old woman came up to them to sell a piece of a mini sculpture which Jihoon thought was overpriced. As Jihoon was just tugging at Junkyu to walk away, the old woman started begging in the most dramatic way for Junkyu to take it. Junkyu had bought it in the end, and it had really pissed off Jihoon. But Junkyu never realized this was the case until that comment Jihoon had sent him via chat later that night. Junkyu couldn't remember what they had been talking about, but somehow Jihoon had managed to put that in. Junkyu had ignored it then, hadn't taken it maliciously.
Suddenly Junkyu felt a hand on his back. He shuddered at the effect, stood frozen in the moment, then eventually relaxed. He allowed Jihoon to very slowly run his hand up and down his back. Even with two layers of fabric on, he could feel the familiar warmth of Jihoon's hand. The fucker just knows what to do. The moment Junkyu had spoken his name, Jihoon knew it was his cue—his shot, and the manipulating bastard took it. This was Jihoon's way of apologizing, always had been. Small touches. That was all it took. Every damn time.
"Sorry."
Junkyu thought he had perhaps imagined it.
"Kyu, I'm sorry."
Junkyu turned to Jihoon and caught the familiar whiff of his cologne. His face was contrasted against the blinding lights of the convenience store across the street, but Junkyu still managed to look at Jihoon's eyes. He was not meeting his, and he almost was disappointed. But then Jihoon looked at him. He was tired. His eyes were droopy. Junkyu could tell his were the same. They were both tired. It was friday and they both had gone straight from their work to the coffee shop.
It was Jihoon's idea that they should meet tonight. They had not seen each other for a week. And Junkyu had missed Jihoon and had been looking forward to seeing him so he hadn't thought twice on cancelling his dinner with his coworkers. And when Jihoon had called him, it had seemed he'd had a bad day, whether at work or with his parents (yet again), Junkyu had no idea, but he was willing to be just there with and for Jihoon.
When Junkyu arrived at the coffee shop, Jihoon was already there, and Junkyu could tell just by looking at his face that he was not his usual sunny self. But Junkyu was prepared for it and for the next full-hour had taken the initiative to lighten up the conversation. However, as Junkyu was talking about his least favorite coworker, Jihoon had suddenly snapped.
"You're just being overly sensitive, Junkyu," he had remarked, out of the blue.
"What?"
"This coworker of yours, are you sure he's really being offensive? You said it yourself, everyone's entitled to their opinion."
"Being homophobic is not an opinion."
"You should have just ignored him then. You're always letting this kind of people get under your skin. That's why they like to pester you."
"Why are you trying to turn this on me?"
Jihoon had started going overboard, lecturing Junkyu on how his being kind was a naivety, something which would always lead him to getting abused by others and taken for granted. Junkyu was in shock. Not only because of those words but because of that utter mockery Jihoon had in his voice. That was what it took for Junkyu to storm out of the coffee shop.
Now, looking at the man in front of him, he thought of the times when he and Jihoon were no more than just friends. Jihoon had said things that Junkyu did not like, but he understood him then. He had tried to understand where Jihoon was coming from, and that patience eventually paid off, because they became closer and he began to see a side to Jihoon that he had never seen the man show to anyone other than him. It made him feel proud. It was one of the grounds on which a whole new kind of relationship had blossomed. Junkyu had felt he had helped Jihoon grow. Or had he?
Junkyu took Jihoon's hand. He realized how much he missed him, how much he missed being held by him. Junkyu walked them both to a spot where he could see Jihoon's face more clearly in the light. Jihoon was looking straight at him, though his face was a blank. But this was classic Jihoon. Even when sorry, he'd always manage to keep his pride, and it always showed on his face, like a child putting on a brave act. Junkyu chuckled. Jihoon seemed surprised at this reaction, but then he smiled, too.
For a moment they just stood there, smiling at each other. This would always be the death of Junkyu. Jihoon's smile. Junkyu gave in and leaned in to give Jihoon a peck on the cheek. Jihoon was just leaning down to do the same when Junkyu put out his arm. Confused, Jihoon looked towards where Junkyu was waving it. He was hailing a cab.
"Go home, Jihoon," said Junkyu. He let go of Jihoon's hand. "Good night." He turned away and walked up to the gate. He felt his chest constrict at what he had just done. But enough was enough.