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”I don't take spoonfuls of romanticism in my tea, but this is not a love song, it’s my truth I have to speak, oh, you are so important to me.”
HOME, Catie Turner
HJ
Hyunjin pulls the sleeves of his baby blue sweater down over his frost-red knuckles. December snow is coming down in a graceful white flurry, dwindling down and swaying to a silent song.
For now the dark oak pavilion overhead provides enough shelter to keep him from freezing to death. That, the heating system, and the red-hot adrenaline pumping through his veins.
Hyunjin is nervous. He blows into his fists, tucking his legs underneath him on the stone garden bench. He wrings his hands together - a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Butterflies of the highest, most sinister caliber, battering against his ribcage and crawling up his throat; he keeps his lips sewn shut because he knows when he sees Jeongin they’ll flutter out of his mouth alongside everything else he’s afraid of saying.
He shouldn’t be scared but for some reason, unbeknownst to him, he’s petrified. The idea of losing Jeongin for good is colder than the snow. Hyunjin took the younger for granted and he knows that; knows he messed up, knows he was selfish. He can sit here and metaphorically beat himself over the head with a frying pan, or he can talk.
That right there is the scary part. Talking. Opening up to someone.
He owes this conversation to Jeongin, owes him the honesty. Jeongin is the easiest person in the world for Hyunjin to talk to. Still, knowing this didn’t make it easier to put his sweater on this morning. It took every ounce of courage to hit ‘send text’, and it’s taking every last rung droplet to be sitting here waiting.
Waiting.
He watches with bated breath as water dribbles down an icicle, rhythmically tip-tapping against the concrete below. There is so much Hyunjin wants to say to Jeongin. There’s a buzzing inside of his head, his thoughts a million bees. He brings his hand up to his mouth and nibbles habitually on a fingernail.
Acidic guilt bubbles in his chest, burning him up from the inside. He wants to reach into his chest, claw out the feeling, watch it spill out onto the pavilion and seep into the earth. He’s so caught up in the buzzing he doesn’t notice the figure coming up the walkway until it’s right in his peripheral. He looks up slowly, drops his hand from his lips.
Jeongin is standing on the cobblestone, smiling visibly behind the tan knit scarf wrapped around his nose and mouth. Pink dusts the tips of his ears, a rose-kissed cherub painted against grey winter. A daydream.
He waves a gloved hand, motioning to the spot on the bench beside Hyunjin, “Is this seat taken?”
Whatever nervousness and dread Hyunjin had in his stomach fades away all at once, replaced instead by shame. Jeongin is a kind person, so untouched by the cruelty of the world - purely innocent in a way Hyunjin had lost years ago.
Hyunjin tries to joke around the knot of emotion in his chest, “I was saving it for someone special but, I guess you can have a seat until he gets here.”
Jeongin huffs out a laugh, sitting down beside him. He pulls his scarf down and for a split second Hyunjin gets lost staring at the blush-colored tip of his nose. Jeongin is the kind of delicate beauty Hyunjin was afraid to touch.
“Can we talk now?” Hyunjin blurts the question, eager to get the conversation over with, “You said we could talk when I wasn’t dying, and as far as I know, I’m no longer on my deathbed.”
Jeongin sighs and Hyunjin’s eyes trace the space between them as the white puff of air dissipates. He wonders if Jeongin is just as nervous as he is. It wasn’t easy to tell what Jeongin was feeling. Somehow, Jeongin had always been able to see right through him, knew what he was thinking before his tongue even wrapped around the words. It was disconcerting, almost, and yet, comforting.
But when the roles were switched, Hyunjin floundered. Perhaps what weighed down on him the most in those situations was the guilt – the guilt that he had taken so much from the younger, but rarely gave the same in return.
“Are you sure you’re ready to talk?” Jeongin looks at Hyunjin with visible concern, thick eyebrows knit warmly together.
“I was ready the moment I opened my eyes and saw your face.” Hyunjin looks at Jeongin, emotion creeping in his throat, “I’m sorry.”
Jeongin studies Hyunjin’s face the way he always does. It’s the kind of stare that makes Hyunjin feel like squirming. Jeongin is the only person in the world who looks at Hyunjin and sees Hyunjin — who he really is at his core, underneath every inch of carefully crafted facade. It makes Hyunjin’s heart lurch.
“What are you sorry for?” Jeongin’s voice is quiet, calm, sticky sweet as he asks, still staring, raw umber eyes round and inviting. They both know what Hyunjin is apologizing for. He knows Jeongin wants to hear it regardless.
“Everything,” he answers immediately, “I just don’t know where to start.”
Jeongin folds his legs underneath himself and turns to face Hyunjin in full, “Start from the beginning. What happened to you?”
Hyunjin’s mouth goes dry, “I just wanted to be somebody I wasn’t.”
Jeongin looks sad and it makes Hyunjin feel guilty — guiltier. He presses on, “I wanted to be someone I wasn’t. I thought that maybe if I started acting how I thought my mom wanted me to be things would be different,” he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, “She wanted so much from me - I mean, shit, you know. She was so expectant but she was just so out of reach, Jeongin. I wanted her back. I wanted my mom to look at me and tell me she was proud of me.”
Jeongin’s eyebrows only grow closer together, attentively silent as he listens to Hyunjin ramble.
“She wanted so much from me. She wanted me to be perfect and I had no idea how to be perfect. Fuck, I still don’t know how to be perfect. When I got accepted to SIT, I thought she would be happy. That was a symbol of success, you know?” Hyunjin chokes out a bitter laugh, “She didn’t even tell me she was proud of me, she just told me to stay vigilant. I guess, in some twisted way, I shut you out because I, well, because I love you.”
He pauses for a moment. When he dares to take a peek at Jeongin he’s not sure what to expect. Disgust, maybe. Hatred, or pity. Instead, he’s met only with love in the younger’s eyes, a love so overwhelming it curls inside his lungs.
“I know how that sounds but, when I’m with you,” Hyunjin continues, swallowing around the lump in his throat, “the world could be on fire and I really don’t think I would care. I thought maybe if I were depriving myself of something that made me happy, I would be more inclined to focus on what other people wanted of me. I know that’s fucked up, I know it is, and I know I shut you out and didn’t really give you any kind of explanation. But honestly?”
“Hm?” Jeongin reaches out and places his hand on top of Hyunjin’s own.
He swallows, “Honestly, I convinced myself it would be better for both of us that way. I was scared that I was holding you back by leaning on you all the time. I didn’t want to become a liability to you, I didn’t want you to resent me.” Hyunjin let it out in one breath, focusing instead on the warmth of the contact against his skin.
Jeongin rubs a reassuring thumb across Hyunjin’s knuckles, “You weren’t holding me back.” His voice is firm. Hyunjin almost lets himself believe it.
“You say that but if I had stuck around, what would you have done with your life?” Hyunjin knows he’s whining at this point, the frustration creeping into the ends of his words, “I mean if you were there to fix everything for me, I would’ve never learned how to handle my own problems.”
Jeongin raises an eyebrow, “Did you learn how to handle your own problems or, did you just ignore them until you couldn’t anymore?”
The world gets quiet. Hyunjin blinks a few times, averts his gaze, “I’m trying to learn how to fix my own problems.”
“And I’m proud of you for trying, Hyunjin.” Jeongin scoots closer, wraps his fingers around Hyunjin’s palm, and it takes everything in Hyunjin not to melt. “That doesn’t mean you can’t lean on me. You can have independence and still have me. You don’t have to do everything alone.”
Hyunjin turns his hand over, slotting his fingers with Jeongin’s, “I relied too heavily on you.”
“And to combat that, you shut me out completely, I know.” Jeongin doesn’t sound angry, just tired, “Not everything is so black and white, Hyunjin. Can I ask you about something though, before we continue this?”
Hyunjin looks back at Jeongin, knows he’s referring to the conversation and to whatever unspoken thing is going on between the pair, “Yeah, fire away.”
“What were you doing with Felix?”
The question shoots ice into Hyunjin’s veins, “Why did I mess around with him?”
“Yeah.” Jeongin pulls his hand back and Hyunjin realizes just how cold the world outside is, “Why did you mess around with him? Even after freshman orientation?”
“It’s more complicated than you think, Innie.” Hyunjin frowns, shivering, “He came onto me. I know how that sounds, but hear me out, I met him before freshman orientation. We were both a part of SIT’s annual dance festival. He approached me after my set. He kept begging me to watch his performance and at the time, I didn’t really have friends outside of my brother.” Another cold chill runs down Hyunjin’s spine, “Can we go inside?”
“Mhm,” Jeongin nods, spurring Hyunjin on and holding out his hand to help him up.
“I agreed to watch his performance. He’s a really good dancer and like I said, I wanted to be his friend – that’s all I wanted. I made that painfully clear when he kissed me. He kissed me, by the way. I didn't even know we were heading in that direction, it caught me so off guard.”
“You kissed back though.” Jeongin replies plainly, holding the glass door open, “Didn’t you?”
“Yeah I did, I didn’t know what else to do.” Hyunjin presses his palms against his eyes, heading in the direction of his kitchen, “At first, it felt good. He was sweet, I told him I didn’t want nor was I ready for a relationship. If we were going to mess around it needed to be no strings attached. He agreed with me, he told me he’d be happy with that. I thought it was going to be a welcome distraction.”
Jeongin pulls two mugs from the cupboard, tone flat, “He seemed to have a different idea.”
“I know but I have no idea why. I spent so much time trying to figure out what I did wrong when it came to Felix,” Hyunjin’s lips are pulled down in a frown.
He pulls two packets of hot chocolate out from a drawer, “We hooked up a few times, kissed a few times, but I never told him — not even once, or even alluded to the fact we could be anything more than friends with benefits. He told me I didn’t need to remind him so much so I stopped reminding him. And then he found out about you and everything exploded – how was I even supposed to know the two of you were going to become friends? I didn’t even know you got into SIT.”
Belatedly, he realizes that his voice teeters on the edge of accusatory. “Sorry,” he tacks on meekly.
Jeongin makes a contemplative noise. Hyunjin gets lost watching the gears turn in his head. He wouldn’t pretend to know what Jeongin was thinking, but he was beautiful. His chiseled features are somehow soft in the warm yellow lighting of the kitchen. Hyunjin reaches for the mugs, sidling around the counter to the sink.
“What about freshman orientation?” Jeongin asks, sitting himself down at the bar, “You told me you were in love with me.”
Hyunjin is quiet for a few seconds. A voice inside his head is screaming, “Don’t, don’t do it.” He swallows it down, wraps a hand around its tooth-filled mouth.
He feels like a fish out of water trying to find the right words. Jeongin was good with words in any situation. Spoke pretty even with tears rolling down his cheeks, but Hyunjin? Articulation was a battle. The only sound between the two for a good minute is the spoon in Hyunjin’s hand clinking against ceramic.
Finally he replies with conviction, “I am in love with you.”
Jeongin sighs again, “Then why?”
“I needed a distraction,” Hyunjin passes Jeongin a mug, “I didn’t think you were going to sit around and wait for me. I thought that you’d move on. I was trying to forget about what we had then maybe I wouldn’t miss you so much. I was wrong but I thought maybe it would’ve been easy.”
“You scared the shit out of me. For a while I thought you hated me,” Jeongin spoons the mini-marshmallows from his mug into Hyunjin’s as he speaks.
He interjects, “I could never hate you.”
“Let me finish,” Jeongin points his spoon at Hyunjin’s face, “I guess hate isn’t the right word. I thought I hadn’t done enough for you, I thought you finding yourself was you moving onto bigger and better things. It took me months of psychoanalyzing to realize what was going on with you - what you were going through. That could’ve been avoided if you had just talked to me.”
“I’m sorry, I know saying I’m sorry won’t fix it but I am. I don’t know how else to show it.”
“I’m not mad at you, Hyunjin. You just,” he trails off, “You need to see somebody,” Jeongin takes a sip of his drink, face twisting at the heat, “like, a therapist. I think I just burnt my tongue.”
“There’s literal steam coming off of it, why would you put that in your mouth?” Jeongin scowls but Hyunjin continues, “I don’t do therapy,” he shakes his head, “that requires way too much vulnerability on my part.”
“If you don’t get help,” Jeongin replies, trailing behind Hyunjin and standing at the foot of the staircase. The same staircase Hyunjin had been launched off merely weeks ago. “I don’t think I can stay with you,” Jeongin makes a vague gesture between the two of them, “like this.”
Hyunjin stops walking, freezing despite the hot drink in his hands, “What do you mean?”
“I want you, all of you, everyday until you’re sick of me but I refuse to sit here and watch you destroy yourself.” Jeongin continues walking, stopping at Hyunjin’s bedroom door, “I can’t throw everything away for you if you just decide it’s too much. If you fuck off and leave me again, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.”
“I don’t want you to throw anything away for me.” Hyunjin protests, hurrying into the doorway, “I want you to be here because you want to be here.”
“And I want you to be here.” Jeongin closes the door behind them, “That’s all I want, for you to be here and to let me know that you’re taking care of yourself.”
“Okay,” Hyunjin sits on the edge of his bed, careful not to spill any of his hot chocolate, “Okay.”
Jeongin discards his scarf and peels off his jacket. He’s more muscular than Hyunjin remembers. Jeongin catches him staring but doesn’t say anything, just smiles to himself. He takes the mug from Hyunjin’s hand and sets it on the desk. Hyunjin lets Jeongin wrap his arms around his waist, lets himself be pulled back up to his feet.
He used to tower over Jeongin and now they’re practically eye level with each other. Jeongin’s guides Hyunjin closer – he revels in the way the younger pulls him closer by the hips.
“I want to be here for you,” Jeongin says, barely above a whisper, “Will you let me be here for you?”
Hyunjin nods, cheeks pink, “Please.”
Jeongin slips his hands free and turns around, reaching to pull something from the pocket of his jacket. “Look what I brought,” he says almost triumphantly, “I brought my Switch.”
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to,” Hyunjin holds his hand out, sitting back down on his bed, “I’m not really in the mood to play anything right now.”
“That’s okay,” Jeongin says, wrapping an arm around Hyunjin’s shoulders, “You can just watch me play.”
Like so many times before this, Hyunjin can’t find the words. He has so much left to say, so many unanswered questions. Instead of rambling like he usually would, he watches Jeongin boot the system up, skin on fire from where his forearm pushes him closer. Jeongin doesn’t seem to notice the older’s heart beating heavily against him, so he doesn’t say anything about that, either.
“Can I lay on you?” Hyunjin asks, testing the waters by laying his hand innocently on Jeongin’s stomach, splaying his fingers against his abdomen. If this had been a year and a half ago, the position they were in wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary but now, in Hyunjin’s all-too-intimate bedroom, it feels scarier than it should.
Jeongin hums but doesn’t bother looking at him, “Yeah, of course.”
Hyunjin lays his head down, taking in the familiar scent of fabric softener and pine. He missed this, missed him. He doesn’t say anything, just rubs the fabric of Jeongin’s t-shirt between his ring finger and middle – focuses on the rise and fall of his chest.
“I can hear you thinking,” Jeongin says, voice vibrating in Hyunjin’s ear, “What’re you thinking about?”
“I’m just sorry,” Hyunjin burrows his head into the crook of Jeongin’s neck like it’s home, “I feel like I ruined everything with you, with us, with everything.”
Jeongin hushes him softly, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head, swearing a little when Kirby blows him off the platform, “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Why are you here?” Hyunjin pulls back, searching Jeongin’s face for some telltale sign, “Why are you here right now? Why didn’t you tell me to go fuck myself?”
Jeongin puts the console down on the nightstand, “I think you know why I’m here.”
“But, why don’t you hate me?”
“How could I ever hate you?” Jeongin’s eyes are warmer than the sun, fox-like mirrors that reflect Hyunjin’s soul, “You’re trying, aren’t you?”
Hyunjin nods meekly, “That doesn’t mean I deserve you.”
Jeongin picks the console back up and smacks Hyunjin lightly in the arm with it. “You deserve more than you think you do.”
“Jeongin,” Hyunjin wants to cry (and he very well might), “I’m in love with you.”
“I know you are.” Jeongin smiles lazily, rough hand coming to caress Hyunjin’s jaw, “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Hm?” Hyunjin scoots up a little, balancing on his elbow, praying this leads to Jeongin’s lips against his own.
“I’ve been in love with you since we met.” Jeongin whispers, pulling Hyunjin forward, brushing their noses together ever so slightly.
Hyunjin whines a little, adrenaline surging him forward to close the space. It’s messy and desperate but still chaste. Jeongin slows him down, brings him back with a hand to his neck and a smile against his lips. Kissing was fun – but kissing Jeongin? There was nothing like it. Every press of his lips was a gentle reminder.
A gentle reminder that it was okay to make mistakes, as long as you learn from them. A reminder that Jeongin was there, a pillar, an immovable object in his life.
“I love you.” Hyunjin says when he pulls back.
Jeongin hums, “I know.”
“I love you so much.”
“I know.” Jeongin sing-songs, pressing another sweet kiss to Hyunjin’s lips. “You’re gonna wear it out if you keep saying it.”
“I’m making up for lost time,” he says, pulling Jeongin closer by the shirt.
Jeongin laughs, rolling onto his side. He leans in, languidly presses a few kisses to Hyunjin’s jaw before pushing Hyunjin back with a hand on his chest, “Just because you love me doesn’t make what you put me through okay.”
“I know, it won’t happen again.” Hyunjin promises, “Can you give me a chance?”
Jeongin pouts, “You need to at least try therapy.”
“I’m scared, Jeongin.”
“I know, baby.” The pet name sounds foreign coming from Jeongin’s lips. It causes flowers to blossom in Hyunjin’s chest. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“Baby?” Hyunjin asks, wrinkling his nose in faux disgust.
Jeongin quirks an eyebrow, “You don’t like it?”
Hyunjin avoids the question, he knows he doesn’t need to answer when he can feel how warm his face is, “What if therapy doesn’t work? What if I end up back here again?”
“Recovery isn’t linear,” Jeongin says, wiping the tear rolling down Hyunjins cheek. “Just think about it, okay?”
Hyunjin nods, closing his eyes to stop more tears from falling. He feels Jeongin pick the console back up, hears buttons mash, and characters exclaim.
He focuses on the thumping of Jeongin’s heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the smell of pine. Home wasn’t something Hyunjin had a grasp of, not the nuclear concept anyway. This though - moments like this when Jeongin ran his fingers through his hair, kissed him sweetly, smiled at him. That was home. This was home.
Home was shaped like a boy.
———
Hyunjin groans, squinting at the cut out digital clock on his wall. He was half convinced what transpired was a dream until his stretching is met with the Nintendo Switch and a soft groan.
Hyunjin whispers a soft “Oh”, carefully picks up the Nintendo and discards it at the foot of the bed. Jeongin hadn’t moved. He’s sound asleep, picturesque in the moonlight flooding through Hyunjin’s open curtain.
All at once he’s hit with a freight train of emotion. Jeongin was an angel – his undeserved guardian angel. Hyunjin had done nothing to deserve him, no matter how much Jeongin protested, it was true. Jeongin was selfless, beautiful, stupid, wreckless. Home.
Hyunjin reaches out carefully, gently cups his sleeping face in his hand.
Jeongin stirs, a sleepy groan escapes his lips. Hyunjin thumbs across his cheekbone.
Jeongin stirs again, this time opening his eyes to blinks at him. A doe-eyed wonder.
“I love you.” Hyunjin blurts.
“Good morning to you, too.” Jeongin chuckles, “I know you do.”
Jeongin stretches, his yawn getting cut off by a laugh when Hyunjin goes to kiss his cheek but misses, landing a wet slap of lips on the curve of his jaw.
“You missed,” Jeongin says, readjusting himself to allow Hyunjin to have easier access, “Try again.”
“I love you.” Hyunjin says, silently urging Jeongin to say it back instead of skirting around it.
Jeongin smiles a lopsided grin, presses a kiss to Hyunjin’s forehead then his nose, his chin, “I know you do.”
Finally, Jeongin presses a kiss to Hyunjin’s lips, “I love you, too.”
Hyunjin pulls back, “I’ll try therapy, I’ll call tomorrow and everything.”
Jeongin hums, warm voice thick with sleep, “I’m proud of you, ‘m so proud of how far you’ve come already.” Jeongin pulls him closer, and wraps his arms around his frame.
Hyunjin can feel himself well up with tears, “I’m really sorry.”
“Baby,” Jeongin hushes him, presses a few more kisses to his lips, “You can be sorry when the sun rises. I promise I’m not going anywhere but I want to take this slow, okay? One day at a time.”
“Besides,” Jeongin’s tone is playful as he slurs, “You taste like sleep.” He presses his lips to Hyunjin’s one last time, “Can we do this in the morning after we brush our teeth?”
Hyunjin stays silent, instead opts to squeeze Jeongin in his arms.
“You’re crushing me.”
Jeongin wasn’t going anywhere — he promised. Hyunjin may not deserve Jeongin but he had him, and he is going to do everything in his power from this moment on to make sure he keeps it that way.
They may not be dating but they were something. And for now, that was more than enough to keep Hyunjin going.
“No seriously, Jinnie. You’re crushing me.”