Chapter Text
Heemin sighed as he fell into his couch. Most of his day was spent sleeping off his hangover and replying to celebratory texts regarding his grand prize win yesterday. He felt a lot of things, grateful obviously, but mostly underwhelmed. Life goes on after all, and he expected himself to work as hard as he did last year. Ever since he formally retired from making comics, every day seemed to be a balancing act between tv gigs and making new art for gallery collections. Despite the exhaustion it generated, he liked this rat race much more than the hell known as Naver Webtoon deadlines.
The sharp sound of a doorbell cut the silence of his apartment. Heemin groaned and raised his tired body from the cozy piece of furniture.
Who could be visiting me this late? He thought as he looked over at the clock mounted on his wall. He pressed the apartment’s CCTV audio button that would allow him to hear the visitor.
“Surprise!” The voice said in English, the door camera view mostly taken up by the eye and nose of someone highly familiar.
Heemin found himself backing away in shock.
“...Henry? Is that you?”
“Yes, Henry! Now open the door, I’m worn out from traveling all the way here.”
Practically no time was wasted as Heemin swiftly opened his front door to reveal the long-awaited man himself. There stood Henry, widely grinning and with a giant celebratory bouquet in hand. Heemin could barely brace himself for the hug the younger man threw at him as soon as their eyes met.
“Oh, I’ve missed you,” Henry said as he dug his face into the crook between Heemin’s neck and shoulder.
“I’ve even missed your stale smell!”
Heemin scoffed, his chuckle rumbling through his chest. He had no response for the other man’s ridiculousness. Sieon, who had been hiding out of view the entire exchange, came into the hallway’s light, lifting up a nondescript paper bag.
“And I’m here, if that matters…”
“Oh, hyung,” Heemin said in a surprised tone, releasing Henry to embrace him.
“Congrats, my friend, now let’s go inside before your neighbors complain about us.”
The trio had finally entered Heemin’s apartment. Henry marveled at how he recognized how many items were from his previous string of temporary homes. Memories of them making horrible holiday food together on the floor tingled his senses. God, that giant dumpling was awful.
They finally settled around his dinner table. Sieon decided to unveil his present, which was an expensive brandy to Heemin’s delight.
“I know I shouldn’t be giving you booze, but you wouldn’t like anything else.”
Heemin hummed in agreement as he inspected the vintage label. “Can’t say you don’t know me.”
Over the next hour, the trio caught each other up on their recent life events. Though, it was more Sieon and Heemin working together to catch Henry up, seeing as the pair met up on a more regular basis.
Eventually, the topic naturally shifted towards the future.
“So, Henry, do you have any plans to get married? You do have a girlfriend, right?”
The younger man flinched at the rather straightforward question, responding moments later with his signature smile.
“Shouldn’t you be the one getting married? Sieon’s been married ever since I left ‘I Live Alone’.”
The older man groaned. His cast mate was not giving him any of the vicarious pleasure he usually received from his married (or soon-to-be-married) peers.
“I guess so… don’t you have a present for me?”
Henry was surprised by his frankness, but slid the shoulder bag he was wearing off his back. He revealed a violin, its fresh varnish shining in the low lighting of Heemin’s apartment.
“It’s your special day, so I wanted to play you something.”
The corners of Heemin’s lips couldn’t help but turn up.
Henry placed the violin against his chin and began sweeping his bow along the violin. His eyes closed, slightly scrunched in focus. Even though it had been almost ten years since they first met, Henry’s youthful face had not changed one bit. This fact was somewhere between endearing and slightly unsettling for Heemin. A few more notes in, and he could tell he was playing the main theme to Howl’s Moving Castle. The sweet vibrations of the song livened their surroundings, inviting a fresh breath of melodic spring to an otherwise cold and dreary winter night. Sieon had gotten comfortable, lying down but giving Henry’s performance the attention it deserved with his attentive gaze.
“Wow, he’s still so good,” he whispered under his breath.
The whole ordeal made him feel like he and Sieon were watching their nephew put on a private recital for him, years of hard work and talent merging to create this one singular moment in his living room.
It was beautiful.