Work Text:
December 2030, Christmas Eve, Seoul, Gunwook
“Yujin, please stop threatening to poison Gyuvin’s food,” Hanbin says in an exasperated tone as he watches Yujin and Gyuvin bicker over the kitchen bar.
They’ve been at it for the past couple of minutes. It started off with Gyuvin stealing pieces of meat off the grill Yujin is cooking on and escalated to the younger threatening to undercook his meat or put rat poison inside of his bowl of soup. He can’t say he isn’t used to it. Most of their get-togethers include at least one round of bickering before dinner’s even started.
“Yeah!” Gyuvin cries, pointing an accusatory finger at their youngest. “You heard him. Stop trying to poison me.”
“Besides,” Hanbin continues, casually slicing a carrot as he breaks up the fight, “if you poison him you’ll probably end up poisoning the rest of us and I’d really like to come out of this Christmas alive.”
“Hey!”
It’s always a little amusing to see that even after all of these years Hanbin is still the only one that can manage to stop Gyuvin and Yujin’s bickering. Sometimes it feels like none of them have changed at all, despite the years that have gone by and the obvious changes in their lives, all of them no longer living in those shitty old apartments, some things still feel like they haven’t changed.
It brings Gunwook a sense of comfort that he didn’t know he needed.
Spending Christmas Eve at Hao and Hanbin’s has become somewhat of a tradition for their group. For the past couple of years, they’ve spent Christmas here like this, surrounded by their friends, cramped together in a small living room with some of the most important people in both of their lives. He doesn’t think he’d ever want it any other way.
Though, he has to admit, the first year they broke the news to Matthew’s family that they wouldn’t be traveling back to Canada to see them, they’d both felt more than a little guilty. Christmas for his own family was never that big of a deal but, for Matthew’s family, he’d seen just how special the tradition had been for them. Matthew’s parents had assured him that they understood, that they would be fine on their own, and that it was time for Matthew to make his own memories here. But Gunwook had still felt guilty as he watched Matthew tearily hang up the call and crawl into his arms. He’d called up Hanbin that very same night, after he was sure that Matthew had gone to bed, and proposed they get the group back together for what had once been a yearly tradition.
While he couldn’t exactly say they’d drifted apart, all of them now had their own lives. Lives that didn’t include seeing each other as regularly as they once had when they all lived a stones throw away from the other. Even Yujin, who had once clung to Gunwook like no other, has hardly had any time to visit them now that he’s in the midst of his senior year of college.
Gunwook doesn’t like to think about it too much. If he thinks for too long he ends up plastered to the couch, downing his second zero cola while sobbing into his third bowl of popcorn as he watches whatever latest drama he knows will bring out the tears. It’s easier to explain to Matthew that he’s crying over fictional characters on his screen than to explain how he feels like he’s chasing some nonexistent timeline that ends with him never amounting to anything.
Definitely much easier.
“I’m so happy we get to do this,” Matthew says, wedging himself into the space between the arm of the couch and Gunwook’s side. There’s hardly enough room for him to fit what with Taerae and Jiwoong already being at his side. But Gunwook will always find a way to make space for Matthew.
“It’s nice to have everyone back together,” he continues, “I feel like we don’t get to do this enough.”
The words feel like they slice right through his chest and straight to his heart. Matthew always seems to know exactly what he’s thinking without him ever having to say a word.
He swallows, hoping the sound doesn’t sound as harsh to Matthew as it does to his own ears. “Yeah, it is nice.”
Matthew tilts his head slightly, eyes staring curiously up at him, and immediately Gunwook knows that his words didn’t fool him one bit. “You okay?”
He should be happy. He knows he should be. His friends are laughing beside him and he can still hear the familiar bickering of Gyuvin and Yujin in the kitchen, thinks he might even hear Ricky having joined in now.
He should be happy. He is happy. He’ll repeat it to himself a thousand times if he has to until he believes it.
“Everything’s fine, baby,” he assures Matthew, stealing a quick peck from his lips to drive his point home. “I love doing this with you.”
Matthew doesn’t look fully convinced. His lips pull down at the edges and he has this look in his eyes that tells Gunwook they’re going to talk about this eventually.
Eventually. Not today.
They’re interrupted by Ricky loudly announcing the food’s ready and the scampering that follows tells him their friends who were just seconds ago beside them have already abandoned their presence in lieu of getting first dibs on a nice home cooked meal. To be fair, it’s not a luxury most of them have lately, all of them are too busy to actually spare the time for something as simple as a home cooked meal.
“Merry Christmas,” Matthew whispers, leaning in just enough for his breath to touch Gunwook’s lips, allowing Gunwook to make the final move just like he always has.
Gunwook wastes no time taking the opportunity, closing the distance and taking full advantage of the fact there’s no one around to witness the sweet sounds he pulls from Matthew’s soft lips. When he pulls away and looks at his fiancé’s face, he doesn’t miss the way Matthew’s eyes have glazed over with something Gunwook has come to know all too well. He smiles and places one last peck to Matthew’s lips, laughing a little when Matthew’s lips follow his own as he draws away.
“Merry Christmas, my love.”
The silence on the walk home is nice. They’d taken the bus there, but when they stepped outside and saw snow gently starting to fall from the sky, Matthew’s eyes had lit up and Gunwook didn’t have the heart to say no when he asked if they could walk back. The trip isn’t that long anyway. Only a little over a mile. No biggie. Anything to see that beautiful look on his fiancé’s face.
Matthew’s soft voice breaks through the quiet, still making his heart skip a beat even after all of these years between them. It’s not like he needs the reminder, but it’s always comforting to realize that he’s no less in love with him now than he was all those years ago.
He can’t imagine a world where he ever loses that love.
“What’s your New Year’s resolution?” Matthew asks, calm and steady like the river beside them. It’s mostly frozen up at this point, but the parts closer to shore still carry a soft hum about them, a slow stream that reminds him of so many other nights he’s brought Matthew here to watch it flow by.
Gunwook thinks for a second. “It’d be nice to take the lead on a case for once,” he admits with a sigh, holding a hand out for Matthew to steady on as he jumps up onto the taller part of the curb.
Matthew has this silly habit of always walking alongside the edge, knowing, without a doubt, that Gunwook will always be there to lend a hand for him to balance on. It’s become a bit of a routine for them. Whenever they walk through this part of the park on their way home, Gunwook doesn’t even need to look over to know Matthew’s already climbed his way up. He never minds it. It means he gets a clearer view of Matthew’s perfect face in the moonlight.
At the mention of work, Matthew spares a glance in his direction, momentarily forgetting about keeping his balance and almost stumbling off. Naturally, Gunwook catches him before he falls.
Just like he always does.
Like he always will.
Matthew casts him a sheepish grin and a small “thanks” but says nothing else past that. Gunwook knows what he’s waiting for. He wants him to keep going. It’s not often that Gunwook talks about his work and it’s really not for Matthew’s lack of probing. Matthew’s been dropping subtle hints for weeks now that he knows something’s up. He never pushes too hard. Always just enough to let Gunwook know he’s there.
His fiancé is really something else. He won’t make him worry much longer. It’ll come out sooner or later and maybe now is the best time for confessions. Starting off the year fresh and all that.
At least that’s what he tells himself as he continues on.
“Or really anything other than picking up coffees or taking notes during meetings,” He continues with a shrug. “Honestly, half of the time I wonder why I’m even there. I feel useless.”
“You’re not useless,” Matthew’s quick to say and Gunwook can tell he’s doing his best to hold back from chastising him for even saying such a thing. He squeezes Gunwook’s hand in his own before continuing. “You’ll get there, baby. It takes time. No one starts off at the top.”
He knows that, logically. But something inside him still feels restless, and the feeling only grows with each and everyday he spends prancing around the office and jotting down coffee orders before one day he suddenly realized that he’d already committed them to heart.
Gunwook sighs. “It just feels like I’m wasting my time. Like I could be doing more. Sometimes I think the old me would be so disappointed if he could see me now.”
Gyuvin’s always telling him that he doesn’t understand how Gunwook has his life so figured out, citing his career, his relationship, and his incessant need to have everything in order as his reasons.
But Gunwook’s not so sure.
The thing is, he can’t even pinpoint exactly what it is that feels so wrong in his life. He should be more than content with the way things are. He got a good paying job right after law school, which is more than most can say. He was able to move them into a bigger apartment with the money that he’s making, one that even has an extra room where Matthew’s already started planning to set up as his own at home dance studio. And a beautiful fiancé that looks at him like he makes the world turn.
What more could he ask for?
Speaking of that beautiful fiancé.
Matthew stops in his tracks and turns to face him. Even with what should be a height advantage as he stands on the concrete ledge of the path, he’s still only a couple inches taller than Gunwook. Despite this, he still slots perfectly against his body as Matthew wraps his arms around his shoulders and Gunwook’s hands naturally slide to the curve of his waist where they belong. It’s his favorite thing about him, how perfectly he fits against his own body.
He presses a gentle kiss to Gunwook’s forehead, the only time he can really do so. “Don’t say that,” he whispers, lips still pressed against his skin. “You have so much to be proud of.”
The night has been so perfect and the last thing he wants is to ruin it with his stupid, silly thoughts. He can already feel the tears starting to burn at his eyes and he’s one more whispered reassurance away from losing control of himself entirely. Matthew deserves to have a good Christmas. He isn’t going to ruin it.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, feeling his chest tighten as each second passes.
“Let’s not talk about this tonight.”
He can’t see it, but from the movement against him he knows Matthew is shaking his head. His fiancé uses one hand to brush his bangs back and out of his face before cupping his cheeks in both hands and forcing Gunwook to look at him.
“I know you’re not exactly where you want to be yet,” he starts, brushing one stray tear away from Gunwook’s cheek that he hadn’t even realized had escaped, “but I promise you’ll get there. You’re the most determined, hardworking and brave person I’ve ever met. There is no one I believe in more than you.”
“You can’t promise that. What if I… what if I never get there?” Gunwook murmurs into the safety of the space between them, like a little secret that he’d been too ashamed to admit until now.
In truth, it is.
This is the first time he’s ever allowed himself to say it out loud. This fear that’s been living inside of him ever since he realized that he’s nothing more than a glorified assistant. His specialities being remembering every single team member's coffee order, shredding documents quicker than anyone else in the office, and preparing paperwork for the actual lawyers to complete.
There’s this little voice in the back of his mind that constantly reminds him this isn’t what he pictured. That Gunwook three years ago would be ashamed to see the life he’s living now, would bow his head in disappointment and refuse to meet his own eyes. It makes his stomach turn.
“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Matthew whispers back, words so sincere and eyes so hopeful that Gunwook can’t help but believe him. “Whatever happens, no matter what decision you make, I’ll always be by your side. That I can promise you.”
He thinks back to a younger version of himself, years ago when he couldn’t have ever dreamed of getting the chance to hear those words come from Matthew’s sweet lips. Maybe he does have at least one thing to be proud of.
“I can’t imagine not having you by my side,” Gunwook says, the words tumbling out of his mouth unfiltered. Not that it matters anyway. He’s long since lost his filter around Matthew and the ring around his finger is proof of the statement.
Matthew smiles, a fond, close lipped smile that in the moonlight he thinks looks much too similar to a Matthew he knew long ago. One that always felt out of reach, close enough to look, but never to touch. Gunwook tightens his hands around his waist to remind himself that this is real. That this beautiful man is all his to love.
“Good thing you don’t have to.”
Their walk continues much like usual, hand in hand, feeling the cold bitterness of the night bite at the tips of their fingers until Gunwook’s forced to bring their joined hands into his pocket for some relief.
He realizes then that he never returned the question.
“What’s your New Year’s resolution then?”
Matthew hums, seemingly lost in the way the lights of the city reflect off of the water surrounding them.
“I don’t know that I have one,” he simply replies, still looking off somewhere in the distance.
“C’mon, everyone has one,” Gunwook insists, squeezing Matthew’s hand in the confines of his pocket. “You have to have thought of something.”
Matthew pauses, and for just a second Gunwook thinks that he might ignore his question entirely. He knows this time of year hasn’t exactly been kind to Matthew and these types of questions tend to bring up memories that both would rather forget. But not too long ago, Matthew told him that he’s tired of being treated with kid gloves. That he hates the pitying look in the other’s eyes whenever the holidays roll around. So he figures if Matthew brought it up first, then maybe this could be the first step for the both of them.
“I just want to be happy,” he finally answers, shoulder bumping into Gunwook’s side as he walks. It’s a clear sign that he’s looking for a bit more comfort than their joined hands can bring him, still toeing that line between no longer wanting to be defined by the hurt, and still remembering the shape of every bruise Gunwook met him with.
Another thing Gunwook has gotten good at; knowing his fiancé better than the back of his hand. He wraps his arm around Matthew’s shoulders and pulls him closer, feeling him sink into his side almost immediately as his body relaxes into the touch.
“Aren’t you happy now?” Gunwook asks slowly, the question coming out with just a tinge more of his insecurities than he intended.
Deep down he knows Matthew’s happy. He sees it everyday in the way his eyes light up when he gets home from work, in the soft touches he still allows him even when he's tired from his day at the studio, or in the late, most intimate hours of the night when he’s pulling the sweetest whimpers from his lips.
Matthew rolls his eyes and pinches his hip, no real malice behind the touch. Gunwook yelps nonetheless.
“Of course I am,” he scoffs, eyes shaking just a little at the idea that Gunwook would ever think otherwise. “I want to keep being happy, and I want my friends to be happy,” he turns and looks at Gunwook now, “and you.”
He should’ve known Matthew would use his resolution to wish others happiness. His fiancé really is an angel on earth.
“I am happy,” Gunwook assures him, pinching his cheek for good measure and cackling as Matthew swats his hand away in protest. “How could I not be when I have you?”
“And soon you’ll be stuck with me for life,” Matthew teases, interlacing their fingers again from where Gunwook’s arm still rests on his shoulder. It can’t be the most comfortable position, but Matthew doesn’t seem to mind.
Gunwook hums, a gentle smile finding its way onto his lips involuntarily. “I should be so lucky.”
The rest of the walk home goes much the same with Matthew clinging onto Gunwook like a lifeline and him returning the favor but in a much different way. Before Matthew came back into his life, Gunwook had almost resolved himself to living a lonely, nonexistent love life for whatever time left the universe granted him. It may sound dramatic to some, but he truly didn’t believe he would ever find someone like him and all of his failed attempts after Matthew just further proved why nothing else would ever work out.
Now, walking home with his fiancé in the cold dead of winter, he knows he was right along.
March 2031, Matthew
“Does the cut of this one make me look shorter?”
Ricky rolls his eyes. “For the last time Matthew, it’s not the tux.”
Matthew narrows his eyes at his friend. “You could’ve just stayed in the car, you know?”
“And let you choose something like that for your wedding day?” Ricky scoffs, crossing both his arms and legs to lean back against the couch all of his friends have decided to find a way to squeeze onto despite there being multiple places to sit scattered about the room. “I don’t think so.”
“I give up,” Matthew groans, throwing his hands up and sitting down on the chair closest to him.
He watches as the shop owner winces, probably more worried about her precious suits getting wrinkled than Matthew’s potential mental breakdown.
“I’m never going to find the right one.”
“I kind of like this one,” Taerae speaks up, keeping his words as optimistic as possible. “It’s got… character.”
“If you mean a cartoon character then sure,” Yujin quips, scrolling on his phone as the others search for something— anything nice to say.
To be fair, the cut of the suit isn’t exactly doing Matthew any favors. The waist rides up much too high for his frame and the shoulder pads make him look like a little kid that snuck his way into his dad’s closet when he wasn’t looking. It’s all sorts of wrong and even he knows it.
The problem is, this is the fifth shop they’ve been to in Seoul and not a single place has had anything that even remotely feels ‘right’.
When he’d asked Hanbin and Hao about how they managed to find the perfect tux for their wedding, they’d simply shrugged and said they’d both worn one they already owned. At the time, they were both too broke to afford anything else and settled on cutting costs where they could. While he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that, that just doesn’t feel right for his wedding. It’s supposed to be special. It’s supposed to be perfect.
That’s what everyone always says at least.
Years ago, he never in a million years would have imagined himself getting married. But now that it’s so close within his grasp, he doesn’t want to settle for anything less than perfect. He wants this day to be just as perfect for him as it is for Gunwook. He’s pictured what their wedding day will look like every day since the day Gunwook proposed on that bridge.
“I think you’re stressing yourself out,” Hao jumps in, always ready to come to Matthew’s rescue even after all of these years. “Maybe we should take a break. Go get some food? That’ll help clear your head.”
Matthew pouts. His stomach did start growling somewhere between the second and third shop and there’s no way he’s going to get through another without killing someone if he doesn’t get something into his system.
“Fried chicken?”
Hao smiles. “Whatever you want.”
So admittedly, the food does make him feel a little better. It always amazes him how Hao knows exactly what he needs at the right moment. Gunwook calls during his break at work to check in and he leaves the 6th shop with a deposit down on the tux that he swears is going to bring Gunwook to tears once he walks down that aisle in it.
Now if only he knew where exactly he would be walking down.
Next thing on the to-do list. Find a venue.
April 2031, Gunwook
Since he started with the Song firm, Gunwook has never been allowed to take the lead on a case. Despite the fact that he was hired almost a year ago, he’s done little in the actual field of law and, honestly, he’s starting to feel a little more than useless.
Gunwook always imagined that life as an attorney would be more exciting. By now he thought he’d be more part of the team, maybe have an office to call his, and a stack of cases lining his desk. Instead he was given a corner cubicle with just enough room for himself to fit in it and only sees case files when he’s asked to fax a document or two as a favor for the actual lead attorney.
So it’s more than a little surprising, to say the least, when he walks into his office that morning and finds a case file sitting neatly in the middle of his desk, the folder almost packed to the brim with documents.
“What’s this?” Gunwook asks out loud to no one in particular.
This must have been a mistake. Someone must have accidently set the file down on Gunwook’s desk and they are probably looking for it at this very moment. He sighs. That means his first task is going to be tracking down the attorney the file actually belongs to and hope the jealousy doesn’t kill him before he finds them.
His desk buddy, Seongjin, who also came into the firm around the same time he did and up until now has been riding the same boat as Gunwook, pops his head up and shoots him the widest smile he thinks he’s ever seen from the guy.
“It’s yours.”
“…it’s mine?”
Seongjin nods, the same wide smile still plastered across his face. “It’s all yours, buddy. Minha-ssi dropped it off earlier, said to send you to her office once you got here.”
Gunwook tries and fails to hold back a smile as he picks up the file. Just as the weight of it hits his hands, he feels the nerves kick in. He turns to his coworker, hands already starting to shake.
“This is good,” he states, words coming out as unsure as he feels. “Right?”
He scoffs. “Are you kidding? Of course it is. Hurry up and go or I’ll gladly take it.”
Gunwook wastes no more time rushing to their head prosecutor's office. He takes a couple of seconds to shoot off a quick text to Matthew.
Gunwook: got my first case :)
He feels multiple buzzes in reply and can only imagine the flurry of messages that are coming through. Matthew’s been just as eager as Gunwook has to see him receive his first case. Sometimes he thinks Matthew’s even more excited than he is to finally see Gunwook working a case.
He reaches her door and knocks, three quiet taps so as to not disturb her. If, for whatever reason, this turns out to be some huge mistake he’s not sure his pride will be able to take it. He’s waited so long for something like this to happen.
“Come in!”
Gunwook sidesteps into her office and quietly closes the door behind himself. “You wanted to see me?”
She makes a point of motioning with a tilt of her chin towards the file still clutched in Gunwook’s hands. “I see you found it.”
He nods, perhaps a little too eagerly.
“Did you review it yet?” She asks, a small smile playing on her lips at his response.
Oh. He hadn’t. Not yet at least. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind to actually open the file, still struck by the disbelief that it belonged to him in the first place.
“Not yet,” he admits.
“Came straight here then?” She laughs and while he knows it’s at his expense it doesn’t feel unkind. It’s something he’s always admired about her, her ability to be kind while still showing her true self.
“Sit down then let’s go over it now. We’ll be working your first one together so that’s probably for the best.”
That soothes Gunwook a little to hear. Sure he’s excited to work on his first case but a small part of him is still worried that he’s going to mess this all up somehow. And maybe he was right because his first mistake, he realizes, happened way before he ever walked into that office.
That mistake? Not opening the file beforehand.
The name on the first page of the file stares up at him, the small picture, an old one from the looks of it, taunts him in the far right corner of the page. The face in the picture is both familiar and strange in a way. It’s like seeing an old classmate for the first time in years but not being able to pinpoint where he knows them from. Gunwook, however, has always been great with names, and this is a face he’d never forget.
Cho Minsu.
“We’re representing the victim.”
Gunwook’s head snaps up.
“The victim?”
Surely she can’t mean—
“This is our victim?” He asks in disbelief.
She shakes her head and slides a file across her desk to which Gunwook hurriedly picks it up and rips it open. Something inside of Gunwook feels like it’s screaming at him to open it faster, like if he can somehow solve the case the quicker he does. It almost feels like he’s right back in that apartment, pulling the curtains open and watching with bated breath for any sign of his neighbors, waiting for his opportunity to jump in and show the beautiful boy across the courtyard that there’s more to love than this.
The first thing he sees when he opens the file are a set of pictures, four pictures to be exact, each with varying levels of bruising shown on different body parts. One picture is of the victim’s face, but the bruising around his eyes and cheeks is so extreme that he can’t make out what he’d look like without them. He catches sight of a couple of finger shaped bruises around the young man’s neck and finds himself tracing over them with the tips of his own fingers.
He doesn’t have to think too hard to remember what those marks felt like under his fingertips all those years ago. It’s been a long time, but nothing can erase the memory of Matthew shivering under his touch as he accidentally grazed against an especially tender spot. He remembers thinking that if Minsu had been in front of him in that moment, he might have killed him. Years have passed, cases like Matthew’s have come and gone, and still he can't wrap his head around how anyone could ever hurt his sweet, gentle love.
“So,” Minha starts, “You going to tell me how you knew the first guy wasn’t our victim?”
For the first time since he opened either file, he locks eyes with Minha. He should’ve known she’d see right through him.
He sighs. “You noticed?”
She shrugs in response. “I’m a lawyer. It’s my job to notice.” She motions to the seat directly in front of her. “I can’t have anything tainting this case. From the looks of it, this isn’t this guy’s first run in. So go ahead, spill.”
Gunwook knows she’s right. He needs to tell her. The last thing he wants is to ruin their chances at finally getting this asshole. But a little part of him, that small part who still remembers the sleepless nights in that run down apartment and the scared look in Matthew’s face at the mere mention of his ex’s name, wants nothing more than to be the one responsible for putting him away and he knows that as soon as he tells Minha everything he’ll automatically be off this case.
It’s a selfish thought, but for a brief second he contemplates not telling her at all. He can take his chances with Minho in court. Maybe after all of these years he won’t recognize him. On the off chance he does, however, the whole case might have to be retried or worse, thrown out entirely.
He looks down at the file in his hands again and traces the bruises on the man’s face this time with his eyes. Slowly the face in the folder starts to take shape, morphing into someone else entirely— soft round cheeks that he could kiss for hours on end, brown eyes that he knows too well, and small pink lips that he could listen to endlessly. Matthew deserves more than what he was given.
He won’t ruin this case.
Gunwook sits down on the leather chair and takes a deep breath.
“So I used to live in this apartment building…”
Later that day, Matthew
Now Matthew knows he’s not the best cook. He’s learned to work his way around a pack of instant ramen, even adding a couple more touches here and there to dress it up and, on occasion, his pancakes come out more edible than not, but when he got the text from Gunwook that he’d managed to snag his first case he knew he had to do something special for him.
Unfortunately for the both of them, neither have had any time to go grocery shopping in the past two weeks which means he’s working with little to nothing. He looks around the pantry and fridge, trying to figure out what he can put together with whatever he does currently have. He still has some leftover kimchi that his grandma gave him and the one thing he has managed to perfect thanks to their new rice cooker is a perfect batch of rice. He gets to work, frying up two eggs to top off the kimchi fried rice and is just putting on the finishing touches when Gunwook walks through the door.
“Something smells good,” Gunwook says, hanging up his coat and kicking off his shoes as the door clicks behind him. “What are you making?”
“Kimchi fried rice,” Matthew announces excitedly, holding up a spoon with a small serving of the finished product for Gunwook to taste. He’d done the same only seconds ago and, if he does say so himself, it’s probably the best thing he’s ever managed to make for them.
Gunwook looks hesitant as he leans forward. To be fair, Matthew can’t blame him. He doesn’t exactly have the best track record with cooking. Like last time when he tried to bake protein banana bread and somehow almost burned their apartment down. Still, like the good future husband he is, Gunwook leans forward and takes the spoon into his mouth, eyes widening as the flavors hit his tongue.
And because this is the first time he’s actually managed to make something edible for his fiancé, Matthew smiles, a little too giddy. “Good, right?”
“So good. Did you really make this?”
Matthew places a hand on his hip and glares at him. “You have no faith in me.”
“Of course I do,” Gunwook insists, placing a gentle kiss to Matthew’s temple. “Thank you for the food, love.”
Matthew rolls his eyes in response playfully. “You're welcome. Now sit, tell me about this new case.”
Anyone else might have missed it, but after being with Gunwook for over three years, he’s come to recognize the signs that something is off. Gunwook’s biggest tell is that he refuses to meet Matthew’s eyes, always averting his gaze to the closest thing he can pretend to be interested in. Today, it’s the kimchi fried rice that Matthew just slaved over. Gunwook sits like a robot, stiff and eyes cast down onto his bowl as he slowly brings a large scoop of the stuff up to his mouth as if that’ll somehow save him from having to answer.
“You don’t have to tell me specifics,” Matthew offers, thinking that must be it. He knows Gunwook can’t exactly talk about his work to the same extent that Matthew can but he’s curious. Sue him.
“Just, you know, whatever you can tell me.”
Gunwook clears his throat as he finishes swallowing another bite. Matthew notes the way he still gazes around the room nervously, pulling at his collar before he opens his mouth as if the room is suddenly too hot for his work uniform.
“I mean there’s not much to say. I went into the office today, saw a file on my desk, and Minha-ssi said it’s mine. Well ours. I guess we’ll be working on it together but she’s taking the lead.”
Matthew hums. He knows there’s something Gunwook isn’t telling him. It’s obvious, but he won’t push. Maybe he really can’t tell him anything. Still, he’s proud of him and he won’t ruin this big moment for him. “I knew it would happen, baby. You’re going to do great.”
“Yeah,” Gunwook nods, taking a deep breath. “Just a little nervous, I think.”
He frowns. Matthew can’t imagine a world where Gunwook isn’t the confident, outgoing, and sure man that he’s always known. It’s one of the things he loves most about when. Wherever and whenever Matthew’s uncertain, Gunwook is there with a gentle reminder that he doesn’t have to do anything alone. Not anymore. Not ever again.
“Anything I can do to help?”
Gunwook smirks, his gaze wandering down to the line of Matthew’s collar where his shirt has rode down and now exposes the hard line of his chest. “Anything?”
Despite the years of intimacy between them, Matthew still feels his face heat up at the implication.
“Anything,” he breathes out.
It’s unfortunate that the first edible meal Matthew managed to cook for them ends up cold and forgotten about on the kitchen table. But as he lays in bed with Gunwook, head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and his even breaths, he thinks it was definitely more than worth it.
May 2031, Gunwook
“Another late night tonight?” Seongjin asks, setting an iced coffee next to Gunwook on his desk.
Gunwook takes the coffee gratefully and immediately downs a good chunk of it in one go. It’s bitter on the way down but exactly what he needs for the night he’s about to have.
“Just going through things one more time. A few more minutes is all I need,” he reassures his desk buddy, even though he already knows he’ll be here for at least another hour. “I just need to make sure I’m ready for tomorrow.”
Seongjin leans against the side of Gunwook’s desk and scans all of the documents he has scattered around him. Gunwook’s aware of how crazy he looks. He’s been sitting at his desk all day going over these exact documents and while logically he knows one more run through isn’t going to change much, he just can’t put them down. Ever since Minha agreed to keep him on the case, despite his previous run in with Minsu, he’s felt more on edge than ever. It feels like if he makes one wrong move, he’ll be off of the case entirely and, as much as Minha has warned him against it, after reviewing all of the proof their victim put forward he’s even more determined to put this asshole away for good.
“How many times have you gone through everything already?”
Gunwook rubs at his eyes and leans back in his chair, finally feeling the exhaustion of the day hitting him. “I lost count after the 6th time.”
“Do yourself a favor and go home,” Minha says, heels clicking on her way out of her office, coat on and purse slung over her shoulder. “I know I am.”
At the sound of her voice, Gunwook straightens up in his seat and prays like all hell that the sleep in his eyes has been rubbed away entirely. She stops in front of his desk and fixes him with a look that tells him she can definitely see right through him.
“I need you to be well rested for tomorrow, Gunwook-ah. Got it?” She says, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“Yes ma’am,” Gunwook agrees, nodding his head rapidly and holding his breath until she’s completely out of sight.
“So you heading out?” Seongjin asks, though he sounds like he already knows what the answer will be.
Gunwook nods and even he knows he’s not at all convincing. Probably something that a lawyer should be worried about but for now he’s more worried about making sure he’s as ready as he can be for tomorrow’s first trial date. “Yeah, I’m right behind you.”
Seongjin sighs and picks up his own belongings, shrugging on his coat and calling after Gunwook over his shoulder, “Don’t stay too late buddy.”
“Don’t worry about me!”
Gunwook truly didn’t plan on staying so long. He really was going to stay for just another hour, but by the time that he’s finished packing up his things and heading out the door, the time on his phone reads almost three hours past the time he should have been off. Quickly, he checks for any messages from Matthew and sees none.
That’s odd. Usually by this hour Matthew would have at least checked in. Even when Gunwook is too busy to reply, he can always count on Matthew’s updates throughout the day; pictures of his lunch, a sweaty after class selfie, or sometimes just a quick ‘love you’ with his signature heart at the end. He briefly thinks about calling him and decides against it a second later. On the off chance that Matthew hasn’t texted because he’s already gone to bed, he doesn’t want to wake him up and be the cause of his crankiness tomorrow morning. One thing he’s learned about living with Matthew is he needs his sleep. Both for the sake of himself and everyone else around him. Though Gunwook actually finds it kind of cute.
Lately he’s found himself missing getting to see Matthew in the small intimate moments they used to share every morning, before the world was awake and it felt like they were the only two still left. Matthew’s not much of a morning person, but Gunwook’s never minded. He loves Matthew even when he’s a little grouchy and complaining about Gunwook having woken him up five minutes earlier than his alarm would have. He loves him then, before, and every moment there after.
It doesn’t take Gunwook long to get home. Luckily for him, the office is only about 15 minutes away from their apartment which means less time to ruminate over why Matthew hasn’t texted him all day. His theory about Matthew being asleep, however, proves to be wrong almost immediately when he hears the voices coming from inside their apartment.
“Gyuvin, seriously? We almost made it!”
He recognizes the voice as Ricky’s right off the bat. He’d almost forgotten that Matthew had mentioned wanting to invite Ricky over earlier that morning. If there’s one thing he knows for sure, it’s that wherever Ricky is, Gyuvin isn’t far behind so it makes sense that inviting Ricky had come as a package deal.
“Gunuki!” Gyuvin shouts right as Gunwook walks through the door, running over to meet him before he’s actually even closed it and enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug. “I missed you!”
“You’re killing me,” he manages to get out through Gyuvin’s squeezing. “And I just saw you last week.
Gyuvin immediately lets him go and looks at him like he’s been affronted. “Dude.”
“What?” Gunwook asks, confused, and looking over at Ricky and Matthew for help. Both of them avert their gaze, straying back to the game they had originally been playing when he walked in. “We grabbed coffee one morning not too long ago. Remember?"
“That was over a month ago,” Gyuvin finally supplies the answer.
A month? There’s no way.
Gunwook tries to think back to the date. He remembers meeting Gyuvin for coffee at their old favorite cafe. Remembers listening as Gyuvin excitedly hammered on about a new shoot Ricky had done and scrolled through countless pictures on his phone of his beloved boyfriend. He remembers telling Gyuvin about his new case, about how he’d been so excited to receive it on his desk and how he finally felt like he was doing something important. On their way out, he remembers Gyuvin telling him they should see each other again soon, before the end of the cherry blossom season—
“Oh.”
Gyuvin looks more hurt by his delayed realization than Gunwook would have guessed. He knows they were close before all this, still remembers the warmth of Gyuvin laying beside him on his cramped bed in their old apartment until he stopped shaking and the tears dried on his cheeks. Gyuvin had picked him up off that bed when others might have looked away in fear of what they might find beneath the anger and resentment. But Gyuvin was never scared, not of Gunwook.
He hates hurting his friend. More than anything in the world he wishes life could be like it was before. When everything was simple and he didn’t have to wonder what the meaning of life is in the first place. He wishes he could go back even further. To the days of scraped knees and convenience store ice cream his mom would bring home for them, knowing without a doubt that Gyuvin would be in his usual spot, perched on Gunwook’s childhood twin bed and digging through his collection of action figures.
Life was so much easier then, so much less complicated and so much less terrifying.
“It’s getting late guys,” Matthew cuts in, breaking the tension between them. “And I have to get up early tomorrow for a class.”
He fixes Gunwook with a look as Gyuvin and Ricky say their goodbyes. Gyuvin, for what it’s worth, seems to let Gunwook’s earlier fumble go, giving him a hug on his way out and jokingly reminding him to ‘not be a stranger’.
Gunwook knows exactly what he means by that. In some ways he already feels like a stranger. He has no clue what Gyuvin’s day to day looks like, what shows he’s watching or how his job is turning out. It hits him then.
Matthew.
Matthew might know.
“Do you know how Gyuvin’s job is going?”
It’s a random question and he knows it. Judging by Matthew’s expression, he’s thinking the same thing, but this is important to him. He wants to know. Needs to know.
“His job?” Matthew asks, confusion clean in his tone.
“Yeah, you know, the one with that recording label.”
Matthew flips around to look at him, something unreadable written across his face. It’s the first time since they first got together that he’s having trouble reading him.
It doesn’t feel right.
“He quit that one last month, babe,” Matthew says as if Gunwook should have already known that.
Gunwook feels his mouth dry up. “What? I thought he loved that job.”
Matthew shrugs, crosses his arms, and his lips turn down. Again, Gunwook doesn’t understand what that’s supposed to mean and it’s more distressing than it should be.
“I mean, he liked it, sure. But he got a better opportunity to help Ricky with his company and took it,” Matthew explains, turning back around and starting on the dishes. “I would’ve thought he told you that.”
Either it’s the lack of breaks he got today, the fact that he is running on probably five cups of coffee and one slice of pizza, or the three hours of sleep he got last night after he spent most of it going over files he brought home but Gunwook feels like his brain is struggling to catch up to Matthew’s words.
Gyuvin quit his job? The one he was raving to Gunwook about only a couple months ago? Why wouldn’t he tell him?
“He must have told you. You’re probably just tired,” Matthew assures him, sending him a sympathetic look. This time Gunwook reads his face loud and clear.
“Go to bed. I’ll join you soon.”
Gunwook wants to protest. He wants to shake his head and assure Matthew that he’s fine. That he has enough energy left to listen to his usual ramblings about his students and the one co-worker he seemingly has it out for. But tonight he feels like every muscle in his body is straining under his own weight and he swears his eyes are closing as he stands.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
So Gunwook heads to bed. Barely making it through changing out of his suit, brushing his teeth and barely splashing water on his face before he’s diving face first into their soft bedsheets. Just as he’s about to doze off, he feels the bed dip, a warm body slides into the spot behind him and he feels a gentle kiss pressed to the skin of his shoulder.
And he swears, as his brain is shutting off and sleep is overcoming him, that he hears a soft voice whisper.
“I miss you.”
Then a couple beats later, more words but the only one he manages to catch before he’s completely out seems to be the most important
“Lonely.”
June 2031, Matthew
Listen, Matthew has really been trying to be understanding here. Gunwook’s been working on his first case for a little over two months now and while he understands the importance of not fucking the whole thing up he also thinks it wouldn’t have killed the guy to pick up his damn phone and let him know he would be late to their anniversary dinner.
Over the last couple of weeks especially, he’s watched as the case has completely overtaken him. Gunwook is in the office more often than he is home and, even on his days off, Matthew can usually find him sitting at his home desk, rifling through documents after documents barely even taking the time to eat or help with any chores around the house. He knows that Gunwook’s job is important. Certainly more important than his own. Sometimes, however, it feels like Gunwook thinks this job is more important than anything else in the world.
Even Matthew himself.
He tries not to let those silly thoughts get to him. He knows, logically, that Gunwook loves him and that this fixation with his first case is a temporary thing. But some days, when he comes home tired from a long day of work and all he wants is a couple of minutes of Gunwook’s undivided attention and instead he gets uninterested grunts in response to his questions and maybe a small peck if he’s lucky, he finds himself questioning if those thoughts are really as misguided as he tries to convince himself they are.
Like right now, he’s currently sat at their favorite restaurant in the city, already on his third glass of wine, and checking his phone for what feels like the millionth time. Gunwook is— he checks the time, seeing the numbers 20:47 staring back at him— 47 minutes late. Matthew knows he looks pathetic, like someone who’s just been stood up for a date, and he’s certain that the wait staff are thinking the same if the pitying looks they send him and the free appetizer they insisted on are anything to go by.
He’s really, really trying to be understanding. But he can’t help feeling a little hurt. Worse of all, he can feel those ugly thoughts starting to come crawling back. They settle in the pit of his stomach and remind him this has happened before. That someone else also loved him once, or so he thought, before they decided he wasn’t worth more than a couple broken vases and even more broken promises.
There’s a part of him that isn’t sure he knows what to do with love. Sometimes he feels like his hands are too callused, too rough, and anytime he manages to somehow claw his way into something good, he ruins it before it can really begin. There’s a part of Matthew that desires to be loved so deeply it feels like it consumes him. He wants to be seen, to be understood, to be chosen and it's so humiliating. He wonders if others feel things as deeply as he does.
He looks around at the others in the restaurant, some are couples chatting over a glass of wine and even a handful of families gathered around the larger tables.
They probably don’t feel this way.
There has to be something wrong with him.
Matthew downs his wine as the waiter who’s been in charge of his table for the whole 47 minutes he’s been sat here checks in once more, eyes offering an apology without him actually having to say anything.
“Still doing OK here?” He asks gently, holding the bottle of wine out to Matthew as an offering. “Can I get you anything else?”
He waves him off. One more glass and they’ll probably have to peel him off of their nice floors and drag him home. “Just the check, please.”
“It’s on us, sir,” the young waiter dismisses his request, a little sheepishly. “I hope your night gets better.”
Even though he knows the poor guy was just trying to ease the situation, somehow that feels like the worst thing that he could have possibly said, like now that he’s acknowledged it out loud Matthew’s forced to actually do something about it.
Still, he thanks him, grabs his coat and completes the full walk of shame out of the place. It’s only when he’s halfway home that he finally gets a call. He doesn’t have to look at his phone to know who it is.
He lets it ring. After the fourth failed attempt, Gunwook seems to give up and it’s quiet for the rest of the cab ride home.
When he gets home, Gunwook is already waiting for him, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, work suit still on and hair ruffled wildly like he’s been running his hands through it. He’s on Matthew’s heels as soon as he walks through the door.
“I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe I—”
“I’m tired,” Matthew mumbles, kicking his shoes off at the door in their routine way and pushing past Gunwook. “I want to go to bed.”
“You never go to bed this early,” is Gunwook’s only response. His brows are furrowed and he’s looking at Matthew like if he just grew a second head. For some reason that pushes Matthew over the edge and he whips back around to face him.
“So now you suddenly know how to keep track of time,” he fires the words out like bullets with every intention of hurting Gunwook on their way out.
Gunwook flinches slightly at the words like they really did manage to ricochet out of Matthew’s mouth and pierce his body.
“I’m really sorry,” he tries again, shoulders folding in on themselves and hand reaching out to Matthew. “I got wrapped up in reviewing some stuff and, before I knew it, I was already late to dinner. I tried to call but—”
“Is your case more important than our anniversary?”
Again, Gunwook flinches and for a second he regrets the words. He feels just as needy and annoying as the words sound coming out of his mouth. It feels like in that one sentence he’s laid out every insecurity he’s felt over the past couple of months for Gunwook to bear witness. He hates feeling this way. It’s miserable, and embarrassing, and so, so fucking lonely.
But Matthew can’t stop. He’s already in too deep and that ugly monster inside of him feels like it’s completely taken over now. It claws at his throat and reminds him he’s never had control of any part of himself let alone his own body.
Something is wrong with him. That much has always been clear.
“Does our relationship really mean that little to you?” He spits out, watching as Gunwook’s face morphs to that of hurt and still he isn’t done.
“Do I mean that little to you?”
At that, Gunwook finally finds the words to respond.
“You mean everything to me,” he insists, reaching out and taking Matthew’s hand in his. His hand is warm, soft and familiar and for just a second Matthew almost lets himself believe him. “I love you, Matthew. You mean so much more to me than some job.”
More than anything in the world he wants to believe that what Gunwook’s saying is true. Some days he can almost convince himself that someone as perfect as Gunwook can love someone like him. Other days, like today, he can feel the tight feeling in his chest traveling up to his throat and forcing out all his stupid thoughts for the love of his life to hear and judge. They tell him that he should have known better. That he should have known a love as perfect as the one he made up in his head was never meant for someone like him.
Luckily for him, his body shows him mercy. The exhaustion hits a lot sooner than it usually does.
“I don’t want to fight,” he says instead of spewing out any more of his thoughts. “I’m tired.”
Truthfully, even if he wanted to let them out, he doesn’t know where to start. They feel like they’re filling up every single crack in his mind and it’s getting harder to breathe as the seconds go by. The worst part is, all he wants is to fall into Gunwook’s arms, to hear him say that everything's going to be OK and that they’ll figure this out together. He’s not sure that’s the case this time.
Gunwook shakes his head just as expected. He hates going to bed angry. Matthew knows this but tonight he can’t be bothered to care.
“We need to talk about this,” Gunwook insists, his hand tightening around Matthew’s.
Matthew can feel the tears starting to prick his eyes and knows it isn’t long before they make their appearance.
“Please,” he pleads, voice shaking and eyes starting to tear up. “I can’t do this tonight.”
For a second he thinks Gunwook isn’t going to let it go. He can see it in his eyes, that determined look he gets whenever he’s about to stand his ground and demand they fix whatever’s wrong right at that moment. Sometimes Matthew appreciates Gunwook’s stubbornness. On days where his mind is trying to convince him he has absolutely no one left in this world, Gunwook’s there with a patient smile and a determination that demands him to believe otherwise. He appreciates it more often than not. But on days like today, he really wishes Gunwook would just learn to pick his battles.
It turns out, however, that Matthew has got him all wrong today because the next thing he knows Gunwook is trudging back into their bedroom before walking out with one of their throw blankets and moving over to the living room where their couch sits.
“You can take the bed,” is all Gunwook says as he settles himself on the couch. “I’ll give you some space for tonight.”
Matthew blinks at Gunwook dumbfounded. He never said he wanted space. All he said was he didn’t want to talk about this right now, not that he didn’t want to talk to Gunwook altogether. After ditching him on the anniversary of their proposal, is Gunwook’s really going to make Matthew spend their anniversary night alone in their bed?
The tears that were once only prickling at his eyes now feel like they’re seconds away from falling. Matthew turns away from Gunwook before he can see them fall. Even after years of trying to get better at this part, he still sometimes reverts back to that scared kid he was when he first met Minsu. The one that didn’t know how to say what he was feeling without completely catastrophizing so instead he just kept it all in and pretended everything was OK.
And because that kid is still inside of him, he swallows his tears and mutters one final word.
“Fine.”
He lies there for about four hours, shivering in their cold, large bed, tears having almost completely soaked the pillow under him, and his body aching from being in one position for far too long. He can feel himself seconds away from cracking, already planning what he’ll say when he inevitably stumbles his way over to Gunwook and begs for him to come to bed. It sends a little pang through his chest to know that Gunwook hasn’t cared enough to come check on him. After having messed up on something so big like their anniversary, Matthew still has to be the one extending his hand to fix things. He always feels like he has one hand outstretched, clutching onto any part of Gunwook he can reach like a lifeline, nails digging in and refusing to let go. Meanwhile, Gunwook’s slowly pulling his own back, waiting for any opportunity to pull away completely when Matthew lets his guard down. It feels metaphorical in a way, like this whole situation is some kind of awful parallel for the way their relationship has been headed lately.
He doesn’t want this to be where they’re headed.
Just as Matthew is about to swallow the pain in his chest and admit defeat, he hears the pitter-patter of socked feet moving towards their bedroom. The doorknob is the next sound he hears, and he holds as still as he can while the bed beside him dips to accommodate Gunwook’s weight. The room is quiet for a second, the air feeling still and heavy between them. Matthew tries to focus on his breathing, but even that feels like too much right now.
“We need to do this tonight,” Gunwook whispers from beside him, a gentle hand on his shoulder guiding Matthew to flip over so that they’re face to face. Only a couple inches separate them now and from this close up Matthew can tell Gunwook’s been crying. Gunwook looks much like he assumes he also looks, eyes puffy and red with visible tear tracks still written into his skin. There’s nothing Matthew hates more than seeing Gunwook cry.
Gunwook sucks in a deep breath, the sharp inhale sounding almost like he’s struggling to breath. Matthew knows that feeling all too well. He’s found himself in this same spot countless times over the past couple of weeks, trying his hardest to control his breathing while the sobs of an empty bed wrack through him. Life feels a lot lonelier than it used to, and he still hasn’t figured out how to come to terms with this.
“I can’t let you go to bed like this,” Gunwook murmurs, his hand now sliding down to Matthew’s waist. The touch should feel natural, and maybe to Gunwook it still does, but something inside Matthew’s body resists and he finds himself arching away involuntarily. He doesn’t remember the last time Gunwook touched him like this.
It’s a little hypocritical of Gunwook to say considering he was the one that decided to leave Matthew alone on their bed for the past four hours after having already stood him up on their date. He feels the rage from earlier bubbling up to the surface again and he has to hold back from unleashing it onto Gunwook.
“I would’ve never done that to you,” Matthew manages to get out. “Never.”
“I’m so sorry,” Gunwook repeats the same apology he did earlier, though this time he sounds more tired than distressed.
Gunwook’s exhaustion reminds him of just how tired he is. Behind Gunwook he can see the digital clock on their nightstand reading 2:32. He wants nothing more than to pretend this never happened and go to bed
“How could you forget?”
“I didn’t forget.” he takes Matthews hand and presses it to his chest, almost like he’s trying to prove something. “I promise I didn’t forget. I would never forget. I just一”
“Lost track of time?” Matthew finishes for him, seething.
Gunwook looks distressed and even that somehow manages to fill Matthew with more rage. “I know it’s not an excuse.”
“Then what is it?”
“How can I make this better?” Gunwook tries changing tactics.
Though little does he know it isn’t going to work this time. Not on Matthew. Not on a day like today.
“You can’t,” Matthew spits out. “I sat there like a fucking idiot and everyone there probably thought I got stood up by some first date. I don’t know what’s worse, that or being stood up by my own fiance.”
There’s no doubt that Gunwook can see the anger in his eyes. He knows he’s absolutely seething right now. “I’m sorry.”
“You said that.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
He wants to yell anything, say anything at all that isn’t useless apologies! Gunwook used to be so good at this part. He could calm Matthew down with one simple well said sentence and a pair of strong warm arms to fall into. Lately he seems too tired to care. Matthew doesn’t want to think too long about what that means.
“I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one putting in work here.”
“I’ll do better, I promise,” Gunwook pleads, eyes starting to look a little crazed. “I’ll come back home earlier, I’ll take you out to a million dinners, I’ll do anything.”
A million dinners won’t fix this. All he wanted was one night. One night. That was all he asked for and somehow that was still too much to ask for.
“I don’t want a million dinners, Gunwook. I wanted just one, tonight.”
Gunwook’s hands move to Matthew’s shoulders, holding him tight at arms length. He can tell that he wants to pull him in closer. His hands tense against his shoulders and let go right after as if it takes Gunwook a second to realize just how tightly he’s holding on.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“How?” Matthew asks even though he’s skeptical anything could ever make this better.
“I’ll show you,” Gunwook says, looking completely determined. “Tomorrow, right after this trial, I’ll tell Minha-ssi that something came up. It’ll be a full day of just us.”
“After the trial?” Matthew reiterates, pouting slightly at the thought of it. “That’s not a full day.”
Gunwook looks torn, his eyebrows droop down and his face crumbles completely in the way it does whenever they watch a sad drama together. He knows he’s not making it easy on him but he doesn’t think that he deserves easy right now.
“I can’t miss it. I know that’s not what you want to hear right now but I can’t miss this first one,” Gunwook explains, cringing a little as he says it.
It’s not what Matthew wants to hear, but the logical part of him is breaking through and reminding him that Gunwook has worked his ass off to get to this position and Matthew wouldn’t forgive himself if he was the reason Gunwook lost such a big opportunity.
“Right after?” He asks, holding back the ugly monster inside of him that wants to snap at Gunwook for even thinking about abandoning him again.
Gunwook’s eyes light up, finally seeing a way back from all of this. “I’ll call you as soon as it’s over. The minute I’m out of that courthouse I’m all yours.”
Matthew narrows his eyes at him. If Gunwook’s really serious about this then he’ll push as much as he can.
“I want ice cream,” he all but demands, crossing his arms and staring Gunwook down,
Gunwook’s face that had previously been a ball of anxiousness finally breaks into a small smile, the corner of his lips betraying him and tilting up ever so slightly, “Of course.”
“Mint choco.”
Gunwook doesn’t break.
“Anything you want.”
So that didn’t work.
“Fine.”
True to his word, that very next day, Gunwook calls Matthew right at lunch time. He asks Matthew to meet him at the river, their usual spot, he says. Matthew is about to complain, to tell him that today is supposed to be Gunwook meeting Matthew more than halfway just like Matthew has been all this time and making him travel half an hour to see him isn’t exactly a great start to their day. But instead, he stays quiet and agrees, decides that he’ll see this day through at the very least before letting his thoughts get to him.
The thoughts always get louder in the silence. Before this case started, Gunwook was always home right after work. 15 minutes, that's how long his commute was and Matthew could always trust that Gunwook would be home right on time. There was never any time for him to let those thoughts in.
Nowadays, it feels like they consume him. They bleed into every single, little crack inside of him and remind him that he’s not worthy of this kind of love. That he’s never been patient enough for it, always a mess of too many emotions with nowhere to set them down until they envelop him completely and are forced out of him.
So he tries to remember what Dr. Carrie taught him all those years ago and takes three deep breaths, counts to five on every exhale and does it again until the feeling in his chest dissipates and the thoughts are no longer yelling at him. It doesn’t work the first time, or the second, and by the time it does he realizes 10 minutes have passed but everything feels quieter and at least his hands are no longer shaking.
It takes him five more minutes to get off the couch, thirty-five to get to the river, and the entire trip to convince himself he’s doing the right thing. He loves Gunwook. He knows that for certain. But sometimes, when the world quiets and he’s left alone with his thoughts, a small voice inside of him, one that he knows is only trying to protect him, tells him that he should run before he gets hurt. It whispers every anxious thought that’s ever crossed his mind like a prayer, reciting them again and again until they feel real.
He tries to remember anything Dr. Carrie taught him again. Anything at all. But his mind blanks and suddenly the air around him feels like it’s getting thicker. It swirls around him, clogging his throat and choking every last breath out of him. He reaches Gunwook with the last remaining energy he has left, feeling like he ran a marathon and not the less than a mile walk he actually just did.
And because his fiancé seems determined to prove his thoughts wrong, he notices something’s wrong almost instantly.
“Baby, breathe,” he instructs him softly, placing a warm gentle hand on Matthew’s back and rubbing big soothing circles into it. “What happened?”
Matthew tries to take a deep breath in, just like Gunwook asked him to, but the air still feels too thick and he chokes on the inhale. “I— I don't know,” he chokes out.
Gunwook looks absolutely torn, brows furrowed and the confusion is clear in his face. Matthew looks to the side and sees a blanket set up, various snacks, coffee, and even a carton of choco mint ice cream sitting on the far right corner. It makes him want to shrivel up and hide.
He’s ruining this.
He’s ruining all of it.
He’s ruining Gunwook.
“Let’s sit.”
Gunwook doesn’t wait for him to answer. He all but drags him to the blanket, gently helping him down until they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder with Gunwook’s hand still rubbing soothing circles into the same spot. They sit there like that for a couple of minutes. The only sound between them being Matthew’s heavy breathing mixing with the rush of the river in front of them. The water used to make him panic, all too reminiscent of a night that would have changed absolutely everything. He’s asked himself countless times how things might have been different.
Would anyone have noticed? How long would it have taken them to find him? Would he regret it on the way down? What would his parents think? Or Yaeby? Would Gunwook have found someone better?
He mulls that last question over for longer than the rest.
Maybe.
Probably.
”Are you ready to talk?” Gunwook asks gently, pulling him away from his spiral.
There’s no real rush or pressure behind his words and truthfully Matthew isn’t sure he is ready, but he wants to try. Gunwook once told him, long ago when Matthew still wasn’t great at this part, that he didn’t mind figuring it out with him. That he would take a thousand half assed explanations of Matthew’s messed up mind before he ever asked Matthew to keep them inside. Matthew had thought he was just being dramatic. Then, time after time, Gunwook had shown him he was serious. Even on the days where Matthew could barely manage to choke out a couple of words in explanation, Gunwook was always there to hold him, comfort him, tell him it would all be OK. And slowly, things had started to feel safer.
So he’ll try. Even if he can’t make sense of it now, he’ll trust in Gunwook’s word one last time.
He tries to think through the best way to explain every single thought running through his mind, the best way to compile months worth of feelings into one single sentence. He comes up with nothing.
“I— I’m fucking this all up,” is the best he can do, and he knows from Gunwook’s expression that, that means absolutely nothing to him. How can it when he has no idea the things that have been tormenting day after day?
Sometimes he wishes that Gunwook could delve inside the deepest parts of his mind and find out for himself exactly what he’s thinking. That way he wouldn’t ever have to butcher his way through an explanation. Other days, he wonders if Gunwook would stick around after being given the chance to hear each and every dark thought that passed through him. The hardest thing he learned in therapy was that they may never stop. He just has to learn how to get better at quieting them when they get too loud until they eventually start to feel like the static on an old TV that no one ever notices anymore. It’s an awful realization to have when that feels so far away.
“You’re not fucking up anything,” Gunwook assures him, shaking his head lightly. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“No, you don’t understand. You could do so much better. You could find someone who’s just as driven as you. Someone who doesn’t freak out when you don’t come home on time. Someone who—”
“Someone who isn’t you?” Gunwook cuts him off, face morphing into one that shows much less patience for such a statement. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”
“No,” Matthew shakes his head, and now the words feel much easier, supplied by that ugly monster inside of him that’s been begging to be released. “You don’t know that. You just think you want me.”
“I was the one that messed up yesterday,” Gunwook reminds him, clearly confused by where this conversation is going. “I don't understand. Where is this coming from?”
“From me! Gunwook it’s coming from me,” Matthew cries out, and now he can feel the hot tears starting to fall. Though this time, they don’t sting. They fall like heavy raindrops against his skin and remind him that he’s no longer in control.
“I don’t feel like I’m enough for you.”
It’s quiet after those final words. Matthew hates the quiet. It makes him want to rush to take it all back. He wants to apologize for his thoughts. He wants to apologize for feeling anything at all. He wants to apologize for existing. He does none of that. Instead, he takes a deep breath, counts to five on the exhale, does it again, then again, and again, until finally it’s no longer quiet.
“Are you going to ask me what I think?”
Matthew sniffles, looking away from Gunwook and towards the river. It’s not the answer he was expecting and, to be honest, it’s not the answer he was hoping for. Dr. Carrie once told him to never go into conversations expecting an answer. She said real conversations, real communication never has expectations set on the outcome. Matthew was never good at this part.
“I think,” Gunwook starts, even though Matthew hadn’t said a word in response, “that this isn’t you talking. I think I fucked up last night and I’ve been fucking up for the past couple of months and this isn’t you talking.”
Matthew wants to protest. This is him talking. The words are coming out of his mouth and he can hear his own voice reciting them. But he’d be lying if he said Gunwook’s words weren’t true. This doesn’t feel like him. He hasn’t felt like himself in a long time.
“My love, you are more than enough for me,” Gunwook whispers softly, “You are everything to me and if I have to remind you everyday, for the rest of our lives, I will.”
Matthew’s brain catches on one word specifically. The one that binds them together and promises more.
“Our lives?”
Gunwook chuckles, a wet laugh that pulls a fresh set of tears out of him. “There’s no way I’m letting you go. You’re stuck with me.”
The words sound silly coming from Gunwook’s mouth this time and he wonders then if he sounded just as silly on that cold December night. The feeling in the pit of his stomach is still there, but it’s less pressure and more of a lingering aftermath. His hands are still shaking, but his breathing has slowed down and the river is starting to sound a whole lot like TV static.
He knows what his next line should be.
“I should be so lucky.”
They sit and talk for what feels like hours. The words come much easier to Matthew after that. Gunwook listens quietly as he tells him about a new deal Hanbin is trying to work on and Matthew does the same as Gunwook recounts how the last trial went for his team. They try every single flavor of the macaron cookies Gunwook picked up on the way over and try to guess the other’s favorite just based on facial expressions. Matthew has to hold back his laughter when Gunwook guesses his right but he shakes his head anyway. Gunwook spends the next couple of minutes making Matthew try each one again to make sure before he finally admits it.
“I knew it!” He cries dramatically. “You always choose blueberry flavored anything as your favorite.”
“You know me so well,” he agrees, leaning into Gunwook’s side and sighing as Gunwook wraps his arm around him immediately.
“I could learn everything there is to know about you and it still wouldn’t be enough,” Gunwook says, pressing a gentle kiss to Matthew’s temple.
Matthew scrunches his nose in protest. “You’re corny.”
Gunwook shrugs. “I’m honest.”
“I love you.”
“I love you more,” Gunwook says, quick to reply.
Matthew glares and turns his head to look at him. “This isn’t a competition.”
“You’re right,” Gunwook says, stealing a quick peck from Matthew’s lips. “Because I’ve already won.”
September 2031, Gunwook
“Looks like we’ll be working late tonight,” another of the assistant prosecutors on a different case says, dropping a box of pizza onto the desk in front of them. “Eat up. We’ll need the energy.”
Gunwook hurries to grab a slice. Working late nights has taught him that he should always take free food whenever it’s offered or else he’ll be running on fumes by the end of the night. This case has turned out to be far more complicated than he expected. That and coupled with the fact that this is his first real case he’s working on, he’s not exactly at the same level as any of the other prosecutors. He takes a little longer to review documents, sifting through legal jargon and complex paperwork that often leaves him with more questions than answers. Though it does help to see Minha, a much more experienced prosecutor, kind of in the same boat. They were admittedly thrown off guard at the last trial, and there’s no way either of them are letting that happen again.
He pulls out his phone and shoots a quick text to Matthew.
Gunwook: Staying late again, baby. Don’t wait up.
Good luck tomorrow!
He watches for a couple seconds as the text bubble pops up, signaling Matthew’s typing something. He watches it disappear, reappear, then disappear again like an endless cycle until finally his phone dings with a response.
Matthew: thank you.
Gunwook stares at those two simple words on his screen. At first glance there’s nothing really wrong with them, and anyone else might say that Matthew was simply acknowledging his message. But there’s this nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him something is really wrong here. He knows Matthew better than most, better than anyone if he really thinks about it, and there’s definitely something off about his words.
He tries again, this time opting for a sweeter message that’s bound to get a better response from his fiancé.
Gunwook: I know you’re going to do great, hyung.
love you ❤️
He waits with bated breath, again watching as that same text bubble from before comes to life before disappearing, making its way back, and then disappearing entirely. For a couple more seconds, he waits, feeling time stand still as he looks for any sign that Matthew’s still there.
Nothing comes.
Just as he’s about to send another text with a variant of his usual form of apologies he has on standby when he’s forced to work late on nights like this, he hears a shout of his name from their head prosecutor’s office.
“Gunwook-ah! Can you come in here?”
He erases the string of apologies he had prepped, deciding instead to allow Matthew a couple more minutes. Maybe he’s just busy. It’s almost midnight now and he really should be getting ready for bed. He has a big day ahead of him. His first gig choreographing for a popular group that could be the first step to so much more.
Words can’t even explain how excited Gunwook was for him when he broke the news over a late dinner last week. Matthew had looked exhausted when Gunwook finally managed to make it home, over four hours past the time he was scheduled to be off. But Matthew had been there all the same, waiting for him with a home-cooked meal that had by then gone more than a little cold.
Gunwook had felt the guilt creep up again. He had promised to do better and it felt all too reminiscent of nights they’d spent before it all, but Matthew had assured him that it was fine. Still Gunwook could see how his eyes drooped as they ate and by the time he announced the news, he looked like he was two seconds away from passing out on their kitchen table. He hardly had any energy left to be excited as he announced it, let alone join in Gunwook’s excitement. And when they crawled into bed at the end of the night and Gunwook tried to show him his appreciation, he’d gently pushed him away, averting his eyes as he told him he was too tired to do anything. Gunwook hadn’t pushed further, but the faraway look in Matthew’s eyes that night had felt all sorts of wrong, had created a deep pit in his stomach that was begging him to face what was really going on between them.
He’s not sure he’s ready to face that yet. If he can just get through this case, if he can make sure that this asshole is put away for life, then he and Matthew can go back to normal.
He can finally give Matthew the justice he deserved all those years ago.
The door to Minha’s office is cracked open enough for him to see her sat at her desk, scribbling furiously. Still, he knocks, not wanting to disturb her process even if she had been the one to call him.
“Come in,” he hears from the other end of the cracked door, “and shut the door behind you, would you?
Gunwook does as told and bows once before sitting at the chair opposite his boss.
“You called?”
“Yes, I need you to review some documents for me and give me any insights you might have before the next hearing,” she hands over a file folder labeled with ‘evidence’ that’s stacked to the brim with what he figures is a combination of police reports and witness testimony. “I’ve gone over all of it so many times that I think I’m starting to go blind.”
“Sure thing,” Gunwook agrees, taking the heavy folder from her. “Anything standing out?”
“A couple of things but I want to hear your thoughts first. We can compare after,” she says, still not looking up from her pile of documents.
Of course this is some kind of test. He should’ve known these kinds of tasks don’t come without stipulations.
“Right, I’ll take this to my desk then.”
Just as he’s about to stand and mentally prepare himself for at least another two hours of reviewing whatever he can get through of the stack he was just handed, he sees her finally look up.
“Nonsense,” she waves him off with a flick of her wrist. “The trial’s not for a while. You have time. Go home and get some rest. It’s late.”
Gunwook feels himself heat up in embarrassment. He doesn’t exactly know how to tell her he refuses to go home until she does without coming off the wrong way. It’s not like she’s ever said she expects that of him. But over time, Gunwook came to understand that the most valued members of their team were always the ones willing to give more, to push past the point of exhaustion and always with no complaints. Gunwook desperately wants to be one of those valued members. These past couple of months, he’s felt closer to getting there than he ever has and he’s not going to waste that opportunity now.
“I just want to get a head start on tomorrow’s work,” he explains. “Just read over what I can before the day is over.”
His boss looks over at the clock which now reads three minutes past midnight and arches a brow. “The day is over, Gunwook-ah. You know, just because I’m here doesn’t mean you need to be.”
He flushes, clearly caught. “Ah, thank you Minha-ssi, but really I don’t mind.”
She studies Gunwook for a moment, the only sound between them being the tapping of her ridiculously expensive pen against the hardwood of the desk. He fidgets under her gaze. He always feels small in this chair, like he doesn’t really belong.
After another beat, she drops her pen and leans back, arms crossed.
“Can I ask you something?” She says suddenly.
He nods, much too eager for such a simple question. “Of course.”
“I remember you bringing someone to the holiday party last year,” she clicks her tongue as if searching her mind for the memory. “A boy, I think it was. What was his name?”
“Matthew,” Gunwook supplies easily, a gentle smile forming at the mention of his name and doesn’t hesitate before adding, “my fiancé.”
Her eyes light up. “Ah! That’s right. Your fiancé. How is he doing?”
It’s an odd question. They don’t usually talk about their personal lives at work. Not that it’s off the table, there’s just never any time in between the stacks of paperwork that need to be completed and the constant movement around the office, always traveling from one place to the next with little to no time for even something as simple as a restroom break. The only reason he knows some of these people actually have personal lives is because of the company parties Minha loves to throw. She finds just about any reason she can to loosen them up. It’s nice, really, having a boss who cares enough to do so.
Despite his surprise, he’s always happy to talk about Matthew. So he answers truthfully, “Good. He’s working on a big project actually. He’s a dance choreographer for a studio around here.”
She nods along to his words. “How long have you two been together?”
“Three years,” he answers quickly, could tell her down to the day if he really wanted to but he’ll leave that for another day. “But it feels like so much longer than that.”
He’s not sure why he’s saying all of this. Maybe because it’s been so long since he’s gotten the chance to speak about Matthew in such a way. He spends most of his time here in this office and if he’s not here then he’s probably with Matthew either curled up in bed or something of the sort.
At that she lets out a soft laugh and it’s only then that he realizes he doesn’t hear that sound very often here in this office. It makes him a little sad.
“Love is funny like that. It has you feeling all sorts of things you never thought you would.”
He smiles. Isn’t that the truest thing he’s ever heard.
“Yeah, it is.”
She leans back in her seat and studies him slowly. He’s not sure what it is she’s looking for but he’s got a feeling he’s about to be in for it.
“Have you set a date for the wedding?”
Gunwook doesn’t mean to, but he grimaces. The topic has been coming up more and more as the weeks go by. Matthew’s been nagging him to hone in on a date that would work for both their schedules. It’s not like he doesn’t want to set a set. It’s just that he’s worried that if he sets a date and a big case comes along he might miss a once in a lifetime opportunity. This opportunity had felt like that. Like a once in a lifetime kind of thing. It still feels way too soon to be letting any opportunity slip by.
“Not yet.”
Gunwook watches as her gaze strays, settling on her left hand, where for the first time since he’s known her he notices something; a thin white line. A mark, almost invisible if one wasn’t looking for it, sitting across her left ring finger. He knows that line well. It’s the same line that is etched into his own skin, a symbol of the time that’s passed since he first put the ring on. A symbol of how long he’s loved Matthew and how he will forever be permanently carved into his being as well.
“Can I give you some advice, Gunwook-ah?” She says, eyes still downcast on that faint line that’s missing its maker.
“Of course,” he breathes out, words shakier than he’d like. He has a feeling he knows where this is going.
She rests her hand back in her lap and takes one deep breath, it’s calculated like she’s done this before many times. He doesn’t doubt that she has.
“I saw you two together at the New Year’s party. It was nice to see you so happy. What you have is clearly special,” she says, each word slow and careful.
None of what she said borders on the line of advice, so he waits patiently for whatever’s to come, holding his breath as he does so. He knows there’s more.
“I remember that feeling well. It’s something I don’t think you ever forget. The memories have faded as the years have passed, and God have they passed but, the feeling, that never leaves,” she smiles as she says this, so fondly that Gunwook has no choice but to believe her.
She continues on, taking Gunwook’s silence as the permission it is. “I was engaged for five years, together for ten. I know that sounds like a long time to someone as young as you but after it was over, I realized it wasn’t enough. I don’t think it would have ever been enough.”
Despite what she might think, he actually understands that feeling very well. He doesn’t think any amount of time spent with Matthew will ever feel like enough. He could spend a lifetime with him and still beg the universe for every last one it has to give.
“So what happened?” Gunwook asks before he can think better of it, before he can understand the gravity of exactly what he’s asking. He needs to know. “He left?”
She laughs, a tinge of pain trickling into what should be a happy sound. “She left.”
Gunwook really wishes he could manage his expressions better than he does. Matthew always tells him he’s like an open book, that he can read him in a matter of seconds. He always thought Matthew was exaggerating but the look on his boss’ face tells him otherwise with the small smirk on her lips telling Gunwook all he needs to know. If it bothers her, she doesn’t dwell on it, instead opting to continue on.
“She wanted a family, kids, marriage, the whole thing. And I wanted to give it to her. I really truly did,” she sighs, a long, deep sigh that feels like it’s been building up for years.
He doesn’t ask how long it’s been, even though he desperately wants to.
“But I asked her to wait, to just give me some time to build my career. I thought if she just gave me a year that I could move up in ranks enough to be comfortable putting my life on hold for a family. But a year turned into two, and then three, and suddenly I came home to an empty apartment and nothing but a note left to prove it ever happened,” her gaze flicks to the desk drawer closest to her and Gunwook has a sneaking suspicion if he opened it he’d find the proof she’s describing.
How cruel, he thinks, even in the aftermath she has confined her fiancé’s last cry for connection to a locked drawer in an office she must have hated with all her being. He wonders if Minha sees the irony in it,
“She didn’t want to wait around and find out how long it would take to become a priority,” she finishes sadly.
Gunwook knows he should say something, probably something comforting or really anything at all. But her words feel oddly familiar and something inside his chest is telling him he’s staring down his future, the pressure growing with every moment he stands still. He wonders if he would keep Matthew’s letter in his desk drawer. If he’d have his own office to store it in. Maybe create a personal shrine for all of their memories, forever confined to one single office drawer. He knows there’s no way he’d manage to fit all his love in such a small space, wonders how she managed to do it.
“I’m sorry,” he manages to finally get out when the pressure has subsided enough for him to talk. “That must have been difficult for you.”
“I don’t blame her. How long can you ask someone to wait before they start to wonder what they’re waiting for?” She laughs again, that same bitter laugh from before as she takes a sip of the glass beside her and it’s only then that Gunwook notices the bottle of soju beside it.
It’s nearly empty.
“Ten years apparently.”
Ten years feels like a long time. It’s more than a third of Gunwook’s life and it’s about half of what he was when he met Matthew.
“You’re probably wondering when the advice is coming so I won’t hold you up any longer,” she fills another glass and holds it out to Gunwook. He takes it, figures he’ll probably need it after what she’s about to say.
“Do you want to know the biggest thing I learned that day?”
Gunwook nods, the words starting to feel stuck in his throat again.
“That day, I realized her leaving was not her choice alone. I'd made a choice to stop loving her long before she walked out that door,” she downs her glass in one go and Gunwook does the same. “She’d simply opened her eyes and finally looked at my choice for what it was, a choice.”
The alcohol burns going down his throat and he watches as his boss doesn’t even flinch at the harsh taste. He has a feeling nothing burns more right now than the memories of what could have been. Matthew always says he hates “what if’s”. He says why dwell on what could have been instead of focusing on what is. He’s not sure he agrees on this one.
“See Gunwook-ah, if you learn anything from my mistakes it’s that love is a choice as much as it is a feeling. You have to choose to love them everyday even on the not so easy days, even when they might be getting on your last nerve, even when life feels like there’s no room for them. You have to keep choosing them.”
For the first time since she started talking she looks up, and Gunwook can see now why she’d refused to meet his gaze all this time. Her eyes are glassy and though no tears roll down he can see how hard she is holding back. It feels like something he shouldn’t be allowed to witness. It takes everything in him to not look away.
“Love is a beautiful, overwhelming feeling. But it’s also something we often take for granted. We think it’s never ending, that there won’t ever be a day where it’s not reciprocated,” She says, eyes never leaving him now. “But the problem isn’t the feeling.”
Now he’s sure he knows where this is going and he doesn’t like it one bit.
“When you notice the spark starts to dim, their laugh no longer makes your heart full and their presence feels like a chore, you have a choice at that moment. To nurture that love, to learn how to love this person again, or to let them float away and find someone else who will,” She finishes, eyes still glued to his own in a way that feels sure, that feels definite.
Her last words echo in his head.
Find someone else who will.
Let them find someone else who will.
No.
No.
No one else can love Matthew the way he does. There’s no one in the entire world, in this universe or another, that could ever feel the way he does about him, that could ever appreciate him, adore him, choose him the way he does. He knows that for certain.
”There is a life outside of this office, you know? You don’t have anything to prove to me, Gunwook-ah. I chose you for this team for a reason,” She reminds him, pulling him out of his thoughts. “But as for your fiance. Now that’s a different story.”
Gunwook doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t know how someone like Minha, who hardly knows anything about his personal life let alone his love life, could have managed to read the most important part of his life so well. Has he really neglected his relationship enough for someone like her to notice?
“I think it’s time for me to go home.”
She smiles. “I think that’s a very smart choice.”
Gunwook sets down the glass harder than he intended, the glass clinking harshly on the way down. He pays it no mind, turning to walk out the door before his mind catches up to him and he remembers his manners. Minha is still his boss and, after today, he probably owes her much more than this. He swivels back around and bows once, a deep bow that he hopes displays just how much he’s in her debt.
“Thank you.”
She nods. “I hope I don’t have to spell out what the right choice is for you”
Gunwook shakes his head, “No, you don’t.”
“Good, because the right choice is neither of those.”
So maybe he wasn’t following as well as he thought he was. He tilts his head in confusion, hoping and praying that she has something more left for him.
“Don’t let it get to that point. Leave this office. See the world with him. Spend every holiday together. Make it home on time for dinner. Watch your children’s first steps. Be there for the first day of school and their graduation. Remember each and every anniversary. And remember along the way to choose to love him everyday, not just when others are looking.”
Right.
Don’t let it get there.
He feels a buzz in his pocket and quickly fishes out his phone.
Matthew: I’m waiting for you.
Then another.
I love you.
Those three little words feel like a saving grace, like a last lifeline that Matthew’s throwing his way.
There’s still hope left for them.
He won’t let it get to that point.
“Go home and get some rest,” She waves him off, pulling the next document out from the top of her stack of files, clearly not taking her own advice. “Your fiancé’s probably waiting for you.”
Gunwook’s not sure how he does it. The ride back to their apartment is a blur of feet moving faster than they should on snowy pavement and a taxi driver that was willing to risk a day in court for triple the price of his fare.
He makes it home in half the time it usually takes him.
Even from outside in the hall, Gunwook can hear the familiar hum of their TV playing and can smell the soft vanilla candle Matthew was more than likely burning almost all day long. He always tells Matthew that he needs to be careful, that he shouldn’t burn it all day lest he forget about it on his way out one day and burn their whole apartment down. But secretly, he loves these moments right before he walks in the door. He’ll never be able to smell a sugary sweet or another baked good without thinking about home, without thinking about Matthew.
He can already imagine Matthew snuggled up on the couch, their favorite blanket thrown over his lap and a half empty mug of tea in front of him. As he opens the door he finds just that. Except, nothing comes close to the real thing. The only difference is that Matthew, while he is snuggled up on their couch, his eyes are closed, face relaxed like he’s been asleep for awhile. The heavy feeling in Gunwook’s chest grows as he realizes how long Matthew must have been waiting for him before his exhaustion finally gave in.
Gunwook allows himself a second to just look. It feels like he hasn’t really looked at Matthew like this in so long. For the past couple of months, their life has been a steady stream of one thing after another and he doesn’t remember the last time he really looked at his fiancé.
Matthew hasn’t changed much over the years since they first met. Well, that’s not exactly true. He has changed, but not in the ways that matter. His hair’s still as fluffy as the day he saw him in his Pokémon pjs sneaking out of Mrs. Lim’s apartment in the dead of night, his skin’s just as soft as the day he was brave enough to allow himself to touch for the first time after a little too much liquid courage, and his smile lines are still permanently written into his skin as a testament to everything that’s ever made his beautiful fiancé happy.
No, he hasn’t changed one bit. Not where it counts.
As much as he tries, he can only be so careful when he lowers himself beside Matthew, slow so as to not wake him up. His efforts are lost when Matthew stirs and immediately reaches a hand out. Gunwook wastes no time taking it.
“Sorry, were you waiting up?” He asks, even though he already knows the answer.
Matthew doesn’t answer, instead he shuffles into his side, body warm from the hours he must have spent snuggled under the warmth of the blanket.
“You’re home,” he whispers softly into his shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.”
That breaks his heart just a little more than it already was. He’s not sure how much more he can take tonight. Still, he swallows down the feeling and remembers Minha’s words.
“Yeah, I got sent home earlier than the rest,” he explains, brushing Matthew’s hair out of his face so he can get a better look. Matthew peeks one eye open at this and squints at him.
“Why?” He asks, sounding a little skeptical.
Gunwook shrugs. “Finished early,” he simply says before quickly thinking up something to change the subject. There’s no easy way to explain that the reason he rushed home earlier than the others was because his boss reminded him what it means to truly love someone, not just to feel it.
“How was your day, baby?” Gunwook asks instead.
“Good. A couple of the food vendors got back to me about prices,” Matthew says, rubbing sleep from his tired eyes and looking up at Gunwook warily like he’s not sure how he’ll react to this next part. “Maybe we can go over them this weekend? On your day off?”
It hurts to know that Matthew is so reluctant to ask for help for something that should be both of their responsibility. He had promised to be more involved in these kinds of things, in everything, and he knows he hasn’t kept true to his word. Still, Matthew shows up for him everyday in small ways: always asking him how his day was and really listening, making him a cup of tea or coffee when he notices him working late, or simply sitting with him in the quiet while he works on things that he really should have left at the office. He knows he’s been more than patient, especially after what happened on their anniversary.
He won’t let this happen to them. Not again.
“Of course we can.”
It’s quiet for a beat and it’s enough time for a silly question to pop into Gunwook’s head. It’s something that they talked about briefly, when their relationship first started and everything still felt fresh. They hadn’t taken the conversation very seriously back then. Gunwook had made a joke about wanting a soccer team sized family and Matthew had joked he just hoped they didn’t have Gunwook’s face. Gunwook had chased him around the living room for a good five minutes under the guise of a tickle attack for making such a comment. Things had felt lighter then, easier, like the world wasn’t weighing on both of their shoulders.
“Do you want kids?” He finds himself asking.
Matthew looks taken back for a second. “Where’s this coming from?”
“I don’t know,” not true— he knows exactly where this is coming from, from a story about 10 years of waiting. “I was just thinking about it today. We’ve never really talked about it.”
“I don’t know,” Matthew shrugs, rubbing the rest of the sleep away with his sweater paws before pausing to really think the question through. “One would be nice.
Gunwook nods. One would be nice. But only if it looks like Matthew. Maybe they can use a surrogate, have a tiny Matthew running around the place in no time. Maybe they could go somewhere they could actually be a family. In the past, Matthew talked about moving to Canada some day. Gunwook wouldn’t mind that. He’d follow Matthew to the ends of the earth if he asked him to.
“I think so too,” he agrees before a devilish thought pops into his head. “Should we try now?”
Matthew gasps and hits Gunwook’s chest as if the night prior they hadn’t just gotten up to the exact activities that would create a baby in other circumstances.
“Shut up,” he chastises, throwing Gunwook a look before standing and reaching a hand out towards him. “Come to bed?”
Gunwook takes his hand like he always does and lets Matthew guide him to bed. Though when they get there it’s Gunwook who’s guiding him through their nighttime routine, pulling out some pjs and setting out his toothbrush for him. It’s been a long time since he got to do something as simple as this for Matthew.
“I’m going to do better,” Gunwook says once they’re laid side by side facing one another in bed.
Matthew’s eyes have been closed for the past couple of minutes but he opens one to look at Gunwook now.
”What are you talking about?” He mumbles, his cheek squished into his pillow and making the words sound jumbled.
It’s too cute and if he wasn’t trying to be serious right now he might reach out and pinch them.
“I haven’t been around a lot,” he explains easily, opting for brushing Matthew’s bangs out of his eyes instead of the pinch he really wants to give him. “I’m going to do better.
Matthew shrugs as best as he can with his body practically melting into the bed.“You’re busy with your case. I get it.”
Gunwook shakes his head. “You shouldn’t get it. I told you before I would do better and I didn’t.”
“It won’t be like that forever,” Matthew tries to dismiss, and while he sounds sure of it his eyes dart away from Gunwook’s and he knows that he’s trying to convince himself more than anything else. “Things will change after this one. It won’t always be so lonely.”
Lonely. There’s that word again.
“Things will change now,” Gunwook insists. “I don’t want you to ever feel alone.”
“I’m not alone,” Matthew says, shaking his head slightly. “I have you,”
“You do,” Gunwook agrees, reaching out to touch the ring on Matthew’s finger, the one that he put there all that time ago. “And you always will.”
Matthew smiles. It’s a bit of a sadder smile than Gunwook expected but he supposes he understands. His words haven't meant much the last couple of months.
Matyhew outstretches a pinky between them on the bed, holding it up right in front of Gunwook. Matthew always tells him pinky promises are unbreakable, that he shouldn’t make one if he doesn’t mean it.
“Promise?”
Gunwook doesn’t have to think twice. He links his pinky with Matthew’s, turning their hands slightly and kissing Matthew’s palm.
“Promise.”
“I’ve missed you,” Matthew whispers.
“I’ve missed you more,” Gunwook responds, pulling Matthew’s body closer to himself and slotting his mouth against Matthew’s. The kiss is soft, but there’s this underlying tension behind it that Gunwook can feel lingering in the press of Matthew’s lips against his own.
“Not possible,” Matthew mumbles against his lips, a smile breaking through the kiss.
Gunwook hums, flipping Matthew around so that he’s laying on his back with Gunwook hovering over him. He slots a leg in between Matthew’s thighs and grinds down, reveling in the gasps he pulls from the beautiful boy beneath him.
“I’ll show you,” Gunwook gasps into his mouth, grinding down once for good measure. “Let me take care of you.”
Gunwook undresses Matthew slowly, taking off one layer at a time and kissing every piece of exposed skin he can until Matthew’s completely laid bare in front of him.
“No fair,” Matthew complains, tugging at Gunwook’s shirt. “What about you?”
“You gonna help me?” Gunwook replies with a smirk.
“Im tired,” Matthew whines. “And you said you’d take care of me.”
He can’t argue with that.
“You’re right.”
Gunwook takes Matthew apart slowly, opening him up carefully because he knows it’s been a while and pushing in just as gently. Matthew sighs once he’s finally all the way in, like he’s been waiting for his moment for a while. He knows he probably has. It’s been a long time since they’ve been this intimate.
“Fuck,” Matthew cries out when Gunwook hits exactly what he’s been looking for. “Right there, please.”
“I’ve got you, baby.”
Gunwook picks up the pace, grunting as Matthew tightens around him and moans at every thrust. He knows he’s close if the way his nails are digging into Gunwook’s skin and the nonsense spewing out of his mouth are anything to go by.
They finish together, something that Gunwook always cherishes on the off chance it happens. He takes them both over the edge and right past overstimulation, finding it harder and harder to want to leave the intimacy of this moment behind until finally Matthew whines.
“Hurts.”
“Sorry, baby,” Gunwook apologizes softly, pulling out of Matthew carefully and tying off the condom before chucking into the basket beside their bed.
“We need to do that more often,” Matthew says, completely breathless and slumped even though the most he did was wrap his arms and legs around Gunwook and demand more. “So much more.”
“Whatever you want, my love.”
He makes a quiet, secret vow to himself as he lays in bed that night, holding Matthew so tight that he wonders how the other isn’t complaining. He won’t ever let that be him. He chose Matthew all those years ago and he’ll choose him again today and every day after, in every lifetime. That much he’s sure of.
Two weeks later, Gunwook gets the call. They won the case. He’s put away for life. That night he brings home Matthew’s favorite take out and drinks. When Matthew asks him what the special occasion is, he simply says, “Just proud of how far you’ve come.”
The smile he gets from Matthew is worth the small kept secret. He doesn’t need to bring up old wounds. He can rest easily knowing no one will ever hurt Matthew again.
June 2032, Wedding day, Canada, Matthew
Matthew feels like he’s about to throw up.
In a few moments, he’ll be walking down the aisle in front of everyone he’s ever cared about and committing himself to a lifetime with Gunwook. In a way he feels like he already has. His heart belonged to Gunwook long before he actually handed it over and he knows today won’t make any difference in that. But having their love out in the open to bear witness, that feels different.
He and Yaeby always joked that they would never get married, said that there was no way they would ever kiss someone in front of their parents. It was a silly, childish thought at the time and one that he’s sure crosses most people’s minds at least once in their lifetime. It feels comforting, in a way, to know that his parents have seen him both at his worst, when he refused to get out of bed and had to be reminded to eat at least enough to sustain his body, and now at his best when he’s about to marry the love of his life.
“Looking good,” he hears a voice behind him say, and instantly recognizes the voice as Hao’s.
Hao walks closer to where Matthew stands gazing at himself in the mirror and adjusts his tie tighter to his neck. “Are you nervous?”
“Is it obvious?” Matthew asks through a shaky exhale, laughing a little at himself.
Hao chuckles, patting Matthew’s tie one last time. “It’s okay to be nervous,” he assures him. “I’d be weird if you weren’t.”
“Were you this nervous?”
“Oh God,” Hao rolls his eyes and scoffs like he’s just been reminded of something. “I couldn’t eat before the ceremony. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it down.”
Hao smiles and pats Matthew’s cheek with a fondness that Matthew only ever allows him. Something about Hao’s soft touch feels comforting. It reminds him of being tucked in
“So that’s normal?”
“Completely.”
Matthew lets out a long exhale before turning back around to look himself over one last time.
“I have a gift for you,” Hao suddenly says. “Consider it your pre-wedding gift.”
“Hyung,” Matthew protests, whipping back around to look at his friend. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
Hao shrugs. “Technically I didn’t.”
What is that supposed to mean?
Hao pulls a small black box out of his jacket pocket. “Just a little something I should’ve given you a long time ago,” Hao explains even though the explanation still makes absolutely no sense to Matthew. “I just wanted to make sure you’d come back for it.”
Matthew reaches out and takes the box in his hand, eyeing it warily as it sits in his palm.
“Well,” Hao urges him. “Open it.”
When Matthew opens it, he sees a small gold pendant sitting in the middle. There’s a rose engraved into it. It looks too similar to one he’d thought he lost long ago. One that he’d seen at a festival right before his life completely changed. One that he hadn’t been brave enough to buy for himself. But Gunwook had been. Gunwook had noticed his eye straying to the beautiful piece of handmade jewelry and hadn’t thought twice about getting it for him.
“How did you find the exact same one?” Matthew asks in disbelief, touching the necklace delicately like it might disappear.
“It is the same one,” Hao emphasizes. “I should’ve given it to you that night, or even once I figured out that you were back in Korea.”
Hao pauses. Matthew watches as he gulps and looks up, blinking a couple times as tears start to form in his eyes. Matthew can already feel his own eyes starting to water. He really wasn’t planning to cry before the wedding started.
“I guess, after a while, somehow it started to feel like if I gave it back it’d mean you might leave us again,” Hao explains shakily. “And I really wanted to make sure you’d stay this time.”
“Hyung,” Matthew whimpers, clutching the box close to his chest. “Thank you for holding onto it.
Hao waves him away with a hand. “You don’t need to thank me.”
He takes the box from Matthew and pulls the necklace out gently before putting it around Matthew's neck and clipping it.
“Just stay this time, yeah?”
Matthew touches the cold, gold pendant sitting delicately on his chest. It’s just as beautiful as the day he was first gifted it. He remembers thinking that he’d never get an occasion to wear this very necklace. Thought he’d drown it at the bottom of the Han river and it’d never see the light of day.
But today, he’ll walk down the aisle wearing it and he’ll marry the man who never gave up on him.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Hanbin peeks his head in right as Hao is finishing blotting away his tears. He smiles. knowingly at Hao when he sees the teary scene in front of him. “You ready?”
Matthew takes a deep breath.
“Ready.”
June 2032, Wedding Day, Canada, Gunwook
Gunwook isn’t sure how he’s supposed to get through his vows. He thinks he’s crying ever since he opened his eyes this morning. Matthew always calls him a crybaby, says he wears his heart on his sleeve and has called it adorable more times than he can count. He’s not sure how adorable it’s going to be in a room full of people but he’s about to find out.
Luckily Matthew is set to go first.
“Gunwook—”
Oh no. He can already feel the tears starting.
Matthew laughs into the mic lightly as he looks up and sees the look on Gunwook’s face, watching him desperately try to hold back tears already.
“Gunwook, I’ve never known a love like yours,” Matthew starts, taking a shaky breath into the mic and chuckling at himself this time. “You’re patient, and kind. You never take more than I can give and somehow you always know exactly how much that is. I lived my life as a ghost before I met you. I never have to question how much you love me because I can feel it everyday and if I ever do forget you’re always there to remind me, just as patient as the day before. And I know I require a lot of patience.”
Gunwook shakes his head, feeling the tears start to fall down his cheeks now. He knows his makeup is being ruined and Ricky is probably looking on so annoyed at the fact he’ll have to fix it before the reception starts and pictures are being taken from every which way, but there’s no way he can stop them now.
“But you never make me feel less than for needing it. Even on the days where I’m not particularly easy to love, you’re always there with a patient smile and a warm cup of tea.”
Gunwook can’t help himself. A sob wracks through his chest and he covers his face to hide from the peering eyes. It feels too intimate of a scene to have so many eyes on him but he knows that’s the point, bearing themselves for everyone to see, for everyone to witness their love.
He remembers just last night when Matthew’s anxious thoughts crept up again and he convinced himself that Gunwook was getting cold feet. Gunwook had taken a deep breath, brewed him a cup of tea and sat with him as he reminded him of their promise; that this is forever.
Matthew takes Gunwook’s hand, exposing his face completely. He reaches up and wipes a stray tear away. “You see potential in me that I never saw in myself and it makes me want to live up to it. Not because you expect it of me but because I know that with you by my side, I don’t need to be afraid to fail because you’ll always be right next to me, sharing in the good moments with me as much as the bad.”
He will. He’ll always be there. Matthew will never have to worry about being alone again.
“I’ve never known a love like yours, and I’ve never felt a love as strong as I do for you,” Matthew recites, having given up on wiping away his tears completely. “You’re stuck with me. I hope you know that.”
That last line gets a chuckle from the crowd, though he can tell they’re just as choked up from the sniffles around them.
Gunwook mouths to Matthew, small and private just for them.
I should be so lucky.
It’s Gunwook’s turn now and he knows there’s no way he’s going to manage to get through his own without multiple pauses for breath and tissues being dispensed left and right. Matthew’s stood in front of him patiently, waiting for him to finds the words as he pulls out his own notes and feels him squeeze his hand reassuringly.
He can do this. He can do anything with Matthew by his side.
He looks behind Matthew to where his groomsmen stand. Matthew opted for Hanbin, Hao, Ricky, and Taerae while Gunwook took Gyuvin, Yujin and Jiwoong. The hardest part was choosing his best man. For a long time, he was completely torn between Gyuvin and Hanbin. Both had been there for him in a time in his life that he chooses not to look back on. They’d been his rock, steady, patient, and always on standby. But when he thinks about those late nights, hearing Gyuvin’s labored breathing beside him while he struggled to catch his own from a long night of letting the emotions overtake him, he knows exactly who the right choice is. He realized then, long before he ever met Matthew, everything he learned about love, he learned from Gyuvin.
Gyuvin shows his love in big ways. Overbearing, maybe to some, but never to Gunwook. He was always a ball of too much love to give with not enough people to give it to. Though he thinks Gyuvin probably has enough to go around the world once and then some. In school he was always Gunwook’s protector, making sure none of the older kids picked on him and taking care of it when they did. And still, to this day, he looks out for Gunwook in smaller ways but never with less love. Sometimes it’s a simple text, an invite to grab a meal together which a Gunwook knows is a ruse to make sure he’s eating, or a perfectly timed call to catch up.
Gyuvin’s the only person he could think of to be by his side on such a day.
He takes a quick peek back at Gyuvin now and notices he’s also got a wad of tissues in his hand, no doubt breaking long before Matthew finished his part of the vows. For some reason, that makes him even more emotional. Sometimes he forgets that his friends want love for him just as much as he craves it for himself.
Turning back to Matthew now, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before starting. Truthfully, he doesn’t need the paper in front of him. He’s committed most of these words to memory anyway but he’ll keep it just in case he needs something to hide his face from the cameras when he inevitably starts crying.
“Matthew,” he manages to get out before he is choking back a sob and hiding his face behind his paper like he knew he would.
The whole room erupts in laughter, though it doesn’t feel at his expense and he can hear how close many of them are to feeling the same. He laughs along, feeling Matthew squeeze his hand once more. He looks up from his safety net and allows himself to look at his fiancé, soon to be husband, and realizes he’s not in a much better state.
“Matthew,” he starts again. “Loving you was one of the easiest decisions I have ever made.”
Matthew’s face crumples into one that tells Gunwook another round of tears is about to start and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get through this next part if Matthew’s already looking like that.
“And because I knew you’d say it, I need everyone, but especially you, to know that you are not difficult to love. There is never a day where I look at your beautiful face, or hear your voice and think you are hard to love. Loving you feels easier than breathing,” Gunwook says, the words coming out slowly as he tries to hold himself together. He’s on the edge of losing it, but he needs to make sure he gets his point across.
“A few months back, someone told me a story. A story about 10 years of love, and though some might say they were wasted when it ended with one walking away, I don’t think that’s true.”
He knows this part won’t make much sense to Matthew. He never did tell him what Minha said. But still, he feels it’s important, an important part of their story too.
“I learned from that story that love is a choice as much as it is a feeling. That it’s not just about loving with words but with actions,” Gunwook continues carefully. “I look back at the years we’ve spent together, and I can see your love in almost every single one of your choices. You took an earlier shift at work even though it meant waking up earlier just so you could spend more time with me after work, you always pick up my favorite Chinese take out even though it’s all the way across the city, you learned how to make my tea exactly how I like it down to the last drop of honey, and you left your hair fluffy today because you know that’s my favorite look on you.”
Subconsciously, Matthew reaches a hand up, sheepishly running his hand through his hair at being caught. He smiles, a shy little private smile that tells Gunwook he got it right.
“So my promise to you, Matthew, is to always choose you, just as you’ve always chosen me. I’ll choose you today, tomorrow and everyday for the rest of our lives and more.”
And more? Matthew mouths.
“And more,” Gunwook reiterates.
The rest of the vows are a blur, he chokes up for most of it and he’s sure their guests have no idea what he’s babbling on about but it doesn’t matter because Matthew’s there. Matthew’s who’s squeezing his hands, eyes never leaving his, and promising him forever.
They don’t get much time together until the first dance and it’s only after the cake cutting that Gunwook gets an idea.
“Do you want to get out of here?” He whispers to Matthew from behind the cake as their friends and family line up for a slice.
Matthew looks at him wide eyed. “Out of here? As in, leave our wedding?”
“Just for a second,” Gunwook says with a shrug, picking up two stray pieces of cake and forks. “C’mon, we won’t be long.”
“Are you sure we should do this?” Matthew asks, though he’s already following Gunwook out the side door.
“Don’t worry,” Gunwook looks around before shutting the door quietly, noting the way absolutely no one turned their way. “Nobody even noticed. They’re all too drunk and excited for cake.
The fresh night air feels nice after being stuffed inside all day and shuffled around from place to place. He feels like he hasn’t had a real moment alone with Matthew all day.
“Im tired,” Matthew says, sitting back against the brick of the building and wasting no time stuffing a piece of blueberry cake into his mouth. His eyes roll back dramatically and he moans at the taste.
Gunwook smiles at his antics. His fiance— scratch that— husband, has always been a bit of a foodie.
“Good?” He asks, both because he finds Matthew amusing and because he really does want to know what Matthew thinks seeing as he had been place in charge of choosing the cake.
“So good. You made a good choice,” Matthew mumbles around another bite of cake, mouth stuffed full.
A story about 10 years of waiting and however many more years of longing echoes in his mind. He makes one last plea to the universe, but this time not for himself. He sends it for Minha, willing fate to give her one more chance. Maybe their paths will cross again. Maybe in this lifetime, or another. He doesn’t want to believe that one wrong choice is all it takes to end years of love. Maybe next time she’ll make a different choice.
Just like he did.
He really hopes that and so much more for her because, without her, he’s not sure where he would be. Certainly not here, hiding from his own wedding reception with his new husband while stuffing their faces with cake and enjoying the loud echo of the music still playing a couple feet away where he’s sure his friends are wasted and dancing like their lives depend on it.
He can’t imagine it will ever get better than this.
“Yeah,” Gunwook agrees, watching Matthew scarf down another bite of his cake fondly. He thinks if Matthew’s attention wasn’t being drawn away by a delicious piece of blueberry cake, he might notice the heart eyes Gunwook is sending him.
“I did make a good choice.”
Matthew finally meets his eyes and the look in them tells Gunwook securing he needs to know
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
Matthew scoffs. “This isn’t a competition,” he whines.
“You’re right,” Gunwook nods. “Because I’ve already won.”