Archive of Our Own

The heavy rain has finally turned into a drizzle, the night embracing the city like a cool sheet. The neighbourhood is quiet at this hour; most of the lights have gone out, too. 

Seonghwa quietly exits his car and locks it, adjusting his jacket. The street lights are still offering a clear view of the street, though one of them is flickering. It has been flickering for the past couple of days. Who knows when it will be changed. 

That's not even important.

Seonghwa looks across the street, already knowing what he'll see.

And surely enough, there he is.

A tall figure, right across the street. Dressed in black from head to toe, a hood over his head. Still, there are some stubborn strands that have escaped and cling wet to his forehead and almost to his cheekbones. Those pale, almost hollow cheekbones that seemed to glow under the rain.

His face looks almost soft, despite the dark circles under his eyes. 

He is staring at Seonghwa, completely still. He stares as if he was waiting. How long he has been standing there waiting, Seonghwa cannot know, he had been stuck at work all day. He feels a familiar prickle at the back of his neck; those eyes staring at him aren’t curious. They are calculative. Idle, and yet waiting. 

Watching.

He is always watching. 

But he’s never made a move. 

And Seonghwa just…stares back. He stares, lets the shiver down his spine grow more and more intense. He stares until his eyes are burning and he knows it’s time to go inside his apartment.

And so he does.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The first time Seonghwa had noticed him, it had been when he was leaving his favourite coffee shop, right after grabbing a coffee and heading to work. He had been standing just a few steps away outside the shop, once again with a hood over his head. Seonghwa had noticed him, but only barely. They’d locked eyes for a moment, but he had just assumed he was waiting for someone. Someone else. Someone who wasn’t Seonghwa.

But then, he’d noticed him again, a couple of days later, as he was leaving the grocery store late in the evening. The guy had been standing across the street in a pair of baggy ripped jeans and a dark grey hoodie. He was staring at Seonghwa. At first, Seonghwa hadn’t even realized he was the same person. Why would he? He didn’t know the guy. But he stopped walking for a long moment and stared back at him. Curious. Alarmed, perhaps. 

And then another time. And another time. At the bus stop, when his car had broken down. At the park near his workplace where Seonghwa liked having his lunch. Always wearing a hood over his head, never really approaching Seonghwa.

But those eyes, that stare…that was always on Seonghwa. He knew Seonghwa saw him, and yet he did not seem worried by that in the least. If he was a stalker, he was very bad at his job.

How many months has it been now? Must be a couple for sure. Maybe more.

At first, Seonghwa was scared. Or at least, he should have been scared. And he was, the first couple of times. He almost considered calling the police. But the more the stranger kept showing up without getting closer, the more Seonghwa’s fear dissolved into curiosity. And confusion. 

Something about those eyes, the way they look soft but intense, quiet but loud. A few times, Seonghwa has taken a peek through the curtains of his bedroom, just to check if he’s still being watched. 

He’s there. Staring up at Seonghwa’s apartment.



Seonghwa doesn’t know what it is, but he knows it’s pulling him like a magnet.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

One night, he makes the big decision to take matters into his own hands. He’s fed-up by this. If it’s a game, he wants to know the rules. If it’s not a game, he wants to know what the hell is going on. Either way, he’s craving for answers, and when the rain continues the next day, that’s when he decides he’s had enough. 

He finds him at the very same spot he was last night, standing under the rain, wearing the very same clothes. The sight alone makes something tug at Seonghwa’s heartstrings. How come he’s feeling like this over a creep? 

Right. A creep.

Seonghwa opens his umbrella and slowly crosses over the street. Normally, a stalker would run away, wouldn’t they? A creep wouldn’t wait for his victim to question him. But the young man stays rooted in his place, his stare nailed on Seonghwa. Seonghwa’s heart beats louder and louder with each step. Faster and faster. Maybe it can be heard by the whole neighbourhood. His legs start shaking a little, but he stubbornly pushes himself to keep walking. Soon enough, he’s closed the distance between them, and he stands right in front of him. 

He’s taller than Seonghwa, and so Seonghwa has to raise his hand a little for the umbrella to cover them both. Perhaps it’s naive and silly; the guy has been standing there for hours, he’s already drenched. Through the dim street lights, Seonghwa notices a faint redness beneath his eyes, a contrast to the paleness of his face. The kind of rawness that would come from endless sleepless nights, from someone chasing something they could not have. Someone they should not desire. 

But isn’t Seonghwa also crazy for approaching him like that?

“What’s your name?” he asks. His voice comes out quiet, not at all steady or intimidating or something that would show power and control over the situation. When the young man looks at him, Seonghwa feels chills again, and those chills have nothing to do with the cold of the night and the rain. Something about that cracked, almost vulnerable look…

Where Seonghwa thought he’d see danger and possessiveness, he sees darkness and silence. 

“Yunho.”

The voice is hoarse and barely audible over the rain. But Seonghwa hears it. It makes his hair stand, but it also feels like a stab through his chest. There is nothing lethal or eerie about it, just…bizarre. 

Seonghwa catches his stare again. It’s so difficult to look away, it drives him insane. He swallows, but his throat feels dry and raw, 

“I’m Seonghwa.” he introduces himself, though something tells him Yunho is well aware of his name already. The eyes on him spark a vulnerability that he isn’t sure he should be feeling. Not over someone so suspicious, so potentially dangerous.

There’s just too much to consider here. All the factors. The fact that Yunho could just grab him and bang his head on the street, or drag him somewhere and do horrible things to him. But Yunho only stands there and looks at Seonghwa with that unreadable expression.

And then…then Seonghwa’s brain fumbles.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” he suggests, and all the alarm bells go off in his head, screaming at him to take it back. “If you’re going to spend the whole night watching me, you might as well do it without catching a cold.”

What is he doing?

What is he saying?

What is wrong with him?

Yunho blinks. Once. Twice. Seonghwa can see the confusion slowly taking shape in his eyes. The doubt. Funny, considering it’s Seonghwa who should be doubting everything. And maybe he is, maybe he is doubting himself a lot right now. Judging, for sure. But the offer is out, and he cannot bring himself to retract it now.

Eventually, Yunho speaks. “I’d rather not.” he says, his voice a low hum, almost muffled by the sound of the rain. “Not tonight. But thank you.”

What kind of stalker would turn such an opportunity down?

Seonghwa has never been more perplexed in his life.

He shakes his head. “But it’s raining. You cannot just stay out here in the rain.” he points out. Yunho shakes his head, only barely.

“I’m ok.”

Something about this is giving Seonghwa a sting inside. He should be asking Yunho about the truly important stuff, like why he is doing this. And he wants to, the question is burning his chest. But it never reaches his mouth.

He reaches for Yunho’s hand. It’s cold to the touch, makes Seonghwa wonder how long he’s been standing there, freezing like that under the rain. Gently, carefully, he passes him his umbrella, wrapping his fingers around Yunho’s, making him close his hand around the handle. “Take this, then.” he urges him firmly. “And don’t stay out all night.”

Yunho’s eyes drift to the umbrella, but Seonghwa is already letting go, not giving him room to protest. He turns his back on him, and walks away in a hurry.

He gets inside his apartment, showers and gets ready for bed. Before lying under the covers, he carefully reaches for the curtains and takes another look outside.

Yunho is still there, holding his umbrella, looking up towards him.

Seonghwa doesn’t know what to do with that warning voice in his head, and he doesn’t know what to do with the strange feeling spreading in his chest, either.

When he gets to his car the next morning to drive to work, he finds his umbrella carefully placed on the car hood, and Yunho is nowhere to be seen.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

An office job isn’t exactly what Seonghwa dreamed for himself, but it pays the bills just fine. Plus, he has the option to work from home when needed. 

For the next couple of days, that’s what he does. Being part of a big project, he spends his time with his nose buried in his laptop, working tirelessly, barely keeping an eye on the time. By the time Friday night comes, he’s finished all his assignments and can finally relax. The weather outside is warmer and the sky is clear and full of stars. Seonghwa thinks it’s the best time to go for a nice, slow walk, get some fresh air and clear his mind.

The moment he sets foot outside the building, he sees him. Yunho is standing on that very same spot he was standing that rainy night. Almost as if he never left. He looks paler than Seonghwa remembered, though maybe it’s the dark of the night.

He also looks like he hasn’t slept in ages. Again.

Seonghwa does not hesitate at all when he crosses over the street towards him. Yunho’s eyes stay on him, following him. The closer he comes, the more intense Yunho’s gaze becomes.

“Hello.” Seonghwa eventually greets him. “Walk with me?”

He has a feeling Yunho would follow after him anyway. After only a brief moment of hesitation, Yunho nods.

It’s a quiet walk down the street, a pleasant switch for Seonghwa after all those online meetings and the emails. Yunho matches his pace perfectly, and for the first time, Seonghwa doesn’t catch him staring. Instead, Yunho is just looking ahead, turning only occasionally, just to make sure they’re still walking together. 

It's a conflicting turmoil of emotions, the one inside Seonghwa. He wishes he had something solid, something that would untangle this mess of questions and feelings. Next to him, Yunho doesn’t seem to share the turmoil. He’s just strolling by his side as if this is a habit of theirs.

But in the end, Seonghwa’s chest is about to explode.

“Why me?” he asks once they’ve reached the crossroad, eyeing the park across. “Why did you choose me?”

He isn’t sure what kind of answer he would be comfortable with. What can Yunho say that won’t make his skin crawl? Because he’s pretty? Because someone else put him up to it? Because he lost a bet?

Yunho’s eyes are on him again. “Because it’s you.” he says. 

There is absolutely zero context behind that answer, and it makes Seonghwa all the more confused. It shouldn’t feel like this, it shouldn’t send an odd wave of heat rising beneath his skin. The words are simple and yet they land like a skipping stone in the water, creating ripples in his heart. 

He wants to say something, to ask for clarifications. But not a single word comes out of his mouth.

Seonghwa looks at Yunho, and Yunho looks at Seonghwa, and everything that should feel wrong, feels…right. Almost. It’s an unsettling feeling, because Seonghwa doesn’t understand what is going on. Why he’s not scared. Why he’s not recoiling. His gaze drops, too intimidated by Yunho’s. His fingers twitch against his side. He swallows nervously. Because it’s you.

What is that supposed to mean, anyway?

When he dares look up again, Yunho’s gaze is patient, kind, even. It’s really not sitting well with how tired and red-rimmed those eyes are, how hollow his cheeks look. Under his hood and his bangs, there’s something affectionate, something that wants to tell a story. But Yunho never really says anything. 

It’s always been just watching. Not crossing any lines. Watching alone should feel like a threat, but right now, Seonghwa just feels curiosity, and something else. Something unfamiliar, and yet…not completely foreign. Not negative. Spookily soft. 

“I should get back.” is all Seonghwa says in the end. “Are you going to spend the whole night outside my building again?”

A stupid question, really. He knows Yunho will do exactly that.

Seonghwa just doesn’t understand. “You can just come in.” he adds, feeling very, very wary of his own words. “I told you last time, too.”

“Thank you.” Yunho replies. Not a yes or a no, not accepting or rejecting. It doesn’t solve the riddle, and Seonghwa can’t find it in himself to push him harder. 

Maybe for tonight, that’s still progress.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

With the temperature rising the next week and the weather getting warmer, Seonghwa starts leaving his bedroom window open at night when he goes to sleep. He likes it, the sounds of the city slowly lulling him to sleep, the chirping of birds waking him up in the morning. It feels like he’s not alone, like he has invisible company.

He’s not lonely, not exactly. But sometimes, when he goes to sleep, he catches himself staring at the ceiling for a while, not really thinking of anything or anyone. His head is empty, but there is a lingering feeling of…something. 

Tonight, the air is even thicker, clinging heavy to his skin, even with the breeze coming in through the curtains. Seonghwa falls asleep to the sound of passing cars and the shadows playing in the corners of his room, moving softly across the walls. 

But it doesn’t last. He knows he’s twisting and turning in his sleep, and when it becomes too unbearable, he stirs awake once more. It’s not unusual, he’s had those stupid nights before, nights where sleep just refuses to work with him. Pity, because Seonghwa truly thought tonight was not one of those nights.

And yet, it is.

Something…is off. Something just feels…different. Through the heavy air and the shadows, Seonghwa feels it. A presence. 

Maybe he’s not really awake. Maybe he’s just dreaming, hallucinating. He sits up, blinking furiously, waiting impatiently for his eyes to get used to the dark. He’s breathing heavily, the back of his neck a little sweaty.

And then, he sees it.

Sees him.

Yunho.

Seonghwa’s whole body jolts. 

Yunho is standing there, in front of Seonghwa’s closet, in a pair of simple jeans and his usual hoodie. 

It takes a couple of seconds for realization to settle in, but when it does, Seonghwa’s whole body stiffens and he chokes. He reaches blindly for the bedside lamp’s switch. “Yunho-” he breathes. “How-”

Yunho doesn’t move from his spot, but his eyes seem to soften a little. “You said I could just come in,” he says quietly. Seonghwa is left gaping at him for a very long moment, perhaps longer than he’d want it to be. There’s just something in the way Yunho has phrased it, making it seem like it was Seonghwa who asked him to be here. Like it’s Seonghwa wanting him here, watching him sleep.

Did he climb up the freaking window? 

He tries to breathe and view this as rationally as possible. “Yeah, when I’m awake and aware.” he whispers. He still doesn’t get it. If Yunho wanted to hurt him, he could just do so while Seonghwa was sleeping, right? 

Yet Yunho is only standing there, looking at him all fondly. Cautious, but fond.

Maybe Seonghwa just knows it, that if he confronted him, asked him all the direct questions, he wouldn’t get an answer that would make sense. Maybe deep down, that’s what he’s afraid of. 

His fingers curl around the sheets. “Come here.” he asks. Yunho doesn’t even blink. “Come closer, I want to see something.” 

Maybe, if he tries to find the answer himself, it will make more sense.

It’s as if this was Yunho’s signal, what he wanted to hear. He pushes himself away from the closet and walks up to the bed. Once he’s standing right next to the bed, Seonghwa reaches for his hand and pulls him down until he’s sitting next to him. They stay there, looking at each other, taking in each other’s face. Seonghwa studies it all, as if he’s craving to burn them in his memory; every little spot on Yunho’s face, the raw redness shadowing his eyes, the sharp cheekbones. The shape of his mouth, the hair peeking from under his hood and falling into his eyes. 

There are many insane things about this situation. Seonghwa should be thinking straight.

Instead, his fingers brush over Yunho’s hood, lingering there for a moment, waiting. Yunho doesn’t push his hand away, doesn’t tell him to stop. Slowly, Seonghwa lowers his hood to reveal the top of his head. His dark, loose, disheveled curls that frame him even paler and make Seonghwa swallow at the sight. Something catches in his throat. He doesn’t know what it is.

Truly a riddle. 

He runs his fingers through Yunho’s hair, weaving tenderly through the tangled strands.. Yunho’s eyes stay on his face, though his lips part, just barely. There’s a strange kind of intimacy that seems to bloom in Seonghwa’s chest, pouring in his veins. It winds through every cell in his body and settles heavy in his core. Something is trying to come out. 

The words stick to his throat, feel mushy on his tongue. “Sleep here.” he says. Too low, too hoarse, perhaps too out of line. “If you’re going to spend the whole night in my room, just sleep here, with me.”

For a beat, maybe more, Yunho doesn’t really move. It’s always going to be like that with him, isn’t it? Staring at Seonghwa as if he didn’t hear him, as if he’s not in the room with him. His gaze is still on Seonghwa, and Seonghwa belatedly realizes his own hand is still caressing his hair. He wants to withdraw, but instead, his fingers run lower, down to Yunho’s forehead. Then his nose. Then his cheek. He can’t stop touching, can’t stop wanting to explore. And Yunho just…lets him. 

Until he moves, and Seonghwa moves along with him. His heart is hammering in his chest, so loud that he can practically hear it. He bets Yunho can hear it, too. He switches the lamp off and they lie down facing each other, but not really touching. Seonghwa wonders if Yunho will sleep. Perhaps he’ll stay awake all night, watching Seonghwa. 

The space between them buzzes with tension. Close. Not close enough. If Seonghwa reaches out just barely, he can touch Yunho’s hand. But he doesn’t. He’s not sure what might happen if he does. Instead, he lets his gaze wander off again, trying to absorb all of Yunho in the dark. The faint gleam of his eyes, the curve of his lips, the tousled hair across his forehead. He barely knows Yunho. No, screw that, he doesn’t know anything about Yunho. What does even Yunho know about Seonghwa?

Seonghwa closes his eyes, suddenly very self-conscious. He opens them again; Yunho is still there. Crap. Again, he closes them, but doesn’t open them this time. There is no need to. His body relaxes before he can even wonder about it. 

Is it stupid? Probably, Seonghwa cannot deny it. He doesn’t know anything, but there is one thing that he feels. 

Comfort.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

When he wakes up in the morning, Yunho is gone.

Seonghwa kicks himself off the bed, and with a pinch of guilt, he starts roaming around the house. Nothing is missing, nothing is stolen. His door is locked, just as he left it last night. Did Yunho seriously climb up and down the window? Ok, this is the first floor, but still…

He should tell someone.

He knows he won’t.

The previous night has triggered something, and Seonghwa can feel it in his system.

He starts leaving the window open every night, and Yunho keeps coming back. Seonghwa wakes up in the middle of the night, and Yunho is there. Sometimes he’s standing, sometimes he’s sitting on the floor next to the bed. Another time, he’s sitting right under the window, knees folded to his chest. Never on the bed with Seonghwa. Sometimes, Seonghwa asks him to just come over, and Yunho does. But as close as they get, they never really touch. Sometimes Seonghwa is so far gone that he just falls back to sleep before he can tell Yunho to lie down by his side. 

He feels safe, sleeping with Yunho in the room.

He dreams of Yunho. And him. He dreams of the two of them taking a walk at the beach, holding hands. Coming home drunk after going to a restaurant. Fighting over the last piece of meat at home. He dreams of Yunho covering him with a blanket when he’s about to fall asleep, dreams of himself giving Yunho a birthday present inside the car. All abstract pictures, moments drawn by his slumber, leaving him tingly and longing when he wakes up. 

What it is he’s longing for, he’s still not quite sure. The dreams have their own mesmerizing shape, sparking desires in him that he wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted.

He doesn’t tell Yunho about them.

Another day, he finds Yunho outside work again, and invites him in his car. When Yunho sits to the back instead of next to him, Seonghwa can’t help but laugh a little.

“Are you afraid of my driving?” he teases. Yunho just stares at him under his bangs. He looks more exhausted now than ever before. He almost looks sick. “The car is relatively new, I wouldn’t want to damage it. My parents spent a lot of money on it.”

Yunho’s head tilts a little. “Your parents?”

Seonghwa nods. He leans back on his own seat, still not starting the engine. A sigh escapes his lips. “I had an accident, months ago.” he confesses. He thinks back to it, his heart sinking a little in his chest. “Apparently, it was so bad that it left me in a coma for a couple of months. When I woke up, everything was…well, really confusing.” he mumbles, fidgeting. Behind him, Yunho shifts a little closer, sitting straight.

“You were out for a couple of months, it makes sense.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Seonghwa nods. “My memory…it was a mess. Sometimes I think it still is. I couldn’t even remember my own parents at first, but luckily, that passed quickly. Then, you know…there was physical therapy…my parents were so relieved that I was alive, that they bought me a new car and a new phone since everything had been wrecked in the accident. I’m just glad I was able to get back to work.” 

He’s not sure why he’s opening up like that. Like everything else with Yunho, it gives him a wild feeling of safety, a drop of something sweet and pure. That he doesn’t have to be afraid. If Yunho wanted to harm him, he could have done so. He’s got all these chances to do so, could literally stab Seonghwa in his sleep. But he’s not.

Yunho nods. “Your parents sound wonderful.” he says warmly. “I’m glad that you woke up.”

He says the last sentence in a whisper, a tone of gloom and relief that stirs Seonghwa’s insides and makes his fingers twitch. It’s like talking to an old friend, but Yunho isn't like that. 

Not that Seonghwa has a word for what Yunho is. 

And yet, he doesn’t mind.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Tonight, he falls asleep to the sound of the rain, louder than usual since he's once again left the window open. It gets late by the time he drifts off, but at least he doesn't have to go to work tomorrow.

Maybe he can ask Yunho to stay until the morning. If Yunho comes tonight. Seonghwa made sure to check outside the window before going to sleep, just to see if Yunho was once again standing in the rain, watching. Luckily, Yunho was nowhere to be seen. Seonghwa doesn't want to see him drenched ever again.

He dreams of him, again. The two of them, actually, sitting in the kitchen, fighting over the box of cereal. He dreams of Yunho kissing his forehead while he steals the box away and emptying it in his own bowl. It’s playful, and vivid, and Seonghwa doesn’t want to wake up.

But leaving the window open comes with its flaws, too. 

The sound of a thunder is what makes Seonghwa jolt awake, panicking by the loud noise. Almost immediately, another one strikes, and the flash of the lightning pours into the room, making his whole body jerk. He sits up panting, shaking, cold sweat running down his back. For a moment, he doesn’t understand. Just a minute ago, he was sitting in his kitchen, and it was morning. Now…

Another flash. Another roaring thunder.

Yunho is here, sitting down on the floor, next to the bed. Seonghwa breathes. In and out. His heart is ready to jump out of his chest. Yunho is dry, fortunately. Perhaps he got wet climbing up the window, but he’s been sitting for so long that his clothes dried. Seonghwa stares at him, the messy dark curls of his hair. Perhaps he has become too good at this, spotting Yunho even in a darker room. 

And Yunho is looking at him with that very same caring look. “Are you ok?” he asks, meek and delicate. Kind. 

Seonghwa doubts he’s ok.

“Come here.” he chokes, patting the empty space next to him. “Come up here.” he urges Yunho. His breath is shallow, his pulse feels heavy. The storm rumbles again, and Yunho looks at him under his bangs. 

But then he moves under Seonghwa’s request. He gets up, and then he’s sinking next to Seonghwa, the mattress dipping under his weight. Close to him. Not close enough. Seonghwa doesn’t even know what he’s thinking. He’s going insane, full of something he doesn’t understand. He needs the space between them to disappear completely. He needs to feel the same bliss he felt in his dream. The Yunho of his dreams…he’s different, but the same. He’s everything Seonghwa is craving for right now. 

Seonghwa is barely holding it together. Or, well, he’s not holding it together at all.

“Kiss me.” 

His voice comes out in a hush, but he doesn’t stutter. He doesn’t take it back. 

He’s desperate.

And Yunho…Yunho doesn’t reject him. 

He leans in as another thunder roars in the distance. He brushes his lips over Seonghwa’s, slowly, tentatively. Reverent, almost.

But Seonghwa is too far gone. He surges forwards, shaky hands gripping at Yunho’s sides, and the kiss instantly deepens, Yunho’s hands coming up to cradle his face. Something cracks open in Seonghwa’s chest, a throbbing pain that makes him lose his breath in the kiss. It consumes him, a fire that burns his lungs and for a moment, he thinks he’s dying. But then the moment passes, Yunho kisses him even deeper, and Seonghwa’s last drop of sanity evaporates. He can feel one of Yunho’s hands sliding down to the back of his neck, keeping him grounded. It’s not lust, not raw, physical need.

It’s something heavier, something inexplicable. 

Seonghwa’s fingers reach for Yunho’s hair, combing through the tousled strands. The adrenaline is pumping in his veins, and he loves this. 

The unknown. The unnamed. 

He loves whatever it is Yunho is doing to him.

“Don’t go.” he pants, right before Yunho kisses him again. “Don’t ever go anywhere.”

And even though Yunho doesn’t give him an answer, Seonghwa knows he’ll do as he’s asked.

…………….…………………………………………………………………………………………

This is the weirdest relationship Seonghwa has ever been in, if it can be called that, even. 

The kiss doesn’t change anything regarding Yunho’s unusual ways of appearing and disappearing. Well, almost. Now he waits outside Seonghwa’s apartment whenever he comes back from work, and Seonghwa lets him in through the door. The normal way.

They spend the evenings on the couch, or the kitchen, or sometimes the bed. If Seonghwa thought Yunho would get more talkative, he’s wrong, but he doesn’t mind much. They watch movies and Seonghwa tries to get Yunho to eat even a little bit of dinner, but Yunho always refuses. It’s the one thing Seonghwa doesn’t like, because it doesn’t help with the paleness on Yunho’s face, the exhaustion in his eyes. But he cannot exactly force the food down his throat, either. And he never hears Yunho’s stomach rumbling, so perhaps he just eats before showing up here. 

Yunho doesn’t leave him alone in bed anymore. They will kiss and cuddle, but never take it any further. Most of the time, Seonghwa is too tired from work, but also, he’s too hesitant to actually discuss this. How serious it is, where it is going…

But he feels the change in his bones. He feels a serenity, a familiarity, something he really did not expect to feel. What does he even know about Yunho? He only knows what he sees. And somehow, that’s enough.

A month passes like that.

Sometimes, he can hear the whispers at work. His colleagues look at him, and then whisper to each other that he looks…happier. Lighter. Seonghwa doesn’t mind that kind of gossip. It’s not like he hated his life before Yunho, but now, he certainly feels…fuller.

Today, too, he cannot wait to be done with work and go home to Yunho. 

But for now, he needs another coffee. So he picks up his mug and heads down to the small kitchen room they have to make himself another one. The day has definitely been long and boring, but now Seonghwa has something to look forward to. 

The door to the room is ajar, and Seonghwa can hear voices from inside. He raises his hand, ready to knock, just to be polite, but before he can do so, he hears someone mention his name.

“Seonghwa really struggled a lot when he first came back after the accident, so it’s really good to see him glowing again.”

“Definitely. If only…you know.”

Seonghwa recognizes those voices. He’s close with those two colleagues of his, but they’re not exactly best friends, ether. 

“It’s going to be a year soon.” one of them speaks again. “Do you think…he remembers?”

“I don’t know.” the other can be heard sighing. “Do you think we should tell him?”

“At this point, I don’t know. He looks…happy. The first months after waking up were so difficult for him, with the memory loss and having to get back on his feet…can you imagine if he also had to deal with the pain of his boyfriend’s death?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Maybe his brain tried to protect him from the pain. If we reminded him now…the doctors and his parents agreed it was better back then, but he never remembered on his own, so…”

“Exactly.”

“It’s still sad, though. It’s going to be the anniversary of his death soon, Seonghwa would probably want to be there.”

“Maybe. But we don’t know what would happen if he found out now.”

Then they change the subject, talking about a big upcoming project at work. Seonghwa just stands there, frozen, his pulse throbbing. The voices turn dull in his head, his brain refusing to keep up with them anymore. They said his name. 

Dead boyfriend?

What dead boyfriend?

What death anniversary? 

Was he not alone in that car crash?

He jumps back quickly as the sound of steps reaches his ears behind the door. He hides in the corner just in time, his colleagues exiting the room and walking down the corridor without realizing he’s there. Seonghwa can barely breathe.

He needs to move. To chase after them and ask. Ask, because clearly he had no idea what he left behind. Instead, he stays in the corner, his legs locked in place. This can’t be real, can it? Forgetting small stuff is ok, forgetting names is ok, but forgetting the whole existence of someone?

A boyfriend? 

Seonghwa squeezes his eyes shut, trying desperately to go back. Back to that place he has escaped. A year ago, the car, the accident. He tries to remember something, anything. A pair of eyes, a voice. He clenches his fists, nails digging in his skin, so deep that he draws blood. His thoughts crash with each other like waves, his memories a faded, tangled mess. 

He’d want to be there. At the anniversary.

Whoever that boyfriend was, Seonghwa clearly loved him. So why, why-

He feels sick. He feels like his head will split in two from the pain. His legs finally move, but instead of going after his colleagues, he does something else. He cannot be here, cannot stand the eyes on him, cannot breathe.

How he makes it back home without having another accident is truly a miracle by how recklessly he drives. He barges into his apartment, his heart ready to jump out of his mouth as he kicks his shoes off and looks around furiously. The place is empty and quiet, exactly how he left it in the morning. 

It has to be here. There has to be something. He doesn’t have his phone, it was burned along with the car, and there’s not a single hint in his new phone. 

He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. 

He opens all the cupboards, his drawers, he flips through the pages of all his books. The kitchen, the living room, the bedroom…even the bathroom. Anything that could indicate that he shared his life with another person. The pain in his head is growing worse by the minute, but Seonghwa is going crazy even faster. 

In his closet, he finds something. 

A black hoodie, at least two sizes bigger than his own. Just a plain black hoodie, but…

Seonghwa’s mouth is going dry. 

In the bottom drawer of his nightstand, under notebooks, papers and other stuff he hasn’t used in ages, he finds a photo. It’s taken at the beach, probably at dawn. It’s him, and…

Yunho.

Yunho, standing right behind Seonghwa, his arms wrapped around his waist, his chin resting on Seonghwa’s shoulder. They’re both smiling, eyes sparkling with love and happiness.

It’s Yunho. 

Seonghwa sinks to the floor, the photo shaking in his hands. The waves are a blur in the background, the wind catching their hair. Seonghwa’s stomach twists violently, and the pain in his head is so strong now that tears are forming in his eyes. 

How could he? 

How could he forget?

How could everyone…his parents, his colleagues…the doctors…why did they all…

“Yunho…” he breathes, his voice a horrible, scary sound. Hollow. “Yunho!”

There is absolutely no sound, but Seonghwa feels it. Senses the presence. His thumb brushes over the face in the photo, before he slowly turns around. 

Yunho is standing there, like always. Pale, sick, ghostly. 

No.

Seonghwa shakes his head. “That can’t be.” he stammers, already drowning in his tears. “You can’t…I see you, I touched you, we kiss- ” he chokes again, his throat closing up. The words are crumbling in. “You can’t be dead. How can you be dead?”

The dreams. His dreams.

They weren’t really dreams, were they? Were they memories?

And the window…Yunho never really climbed up the window, did he? No, if he’s dead, why would he need to do that…

Yunho looks equally broken. He stares at Seonghwa as if he’s carrying all the sins of the world, as if he wants to apologize for the most horrible crimes. Seonghwa doesn’t understand. He refuses to understand.

The sound that leaves his lips isn’t a sob. It’s a scream, a wounded roar. 

Books, clothes, decorative pieces, anything in his sight. Anything within reach, Seonghwa throws it, smashes it on the floor. He pulls the drawers out and slams them against the hard surface. He’s blinded by his tears, deaf by the grief and the voices in his head, the pained sounds constantly slipping through his lips. Because it hurts, not just his head now but his heart, too. His heart is bleeding in his chest and his lungs, stealing all the oxygen away, suffocating him. He throws things until he has no more strength left, until his body gives up on him and he collapses on the floor, his whole body being taken over by sobs. 

How? Why? 

Only then, Yunho moves. Seonghwa feels his steps more than he hears them, and then there are arms wrapping around him, pulling him until his face is buried in Yunho’s chest. His hands reach for him, fingers digging in his clothes. Yunho holds him, pressing his cheek against Seonghwa’s hair, his arms keeping a tight hold of him. Tight, smothering, safe. A false sense of safety. 

An illusion.

A ghost.

Seonghwa wishes someone had ripped his heart out. He wishes he didn’t feel. He cries until he gets another headache, until dizziness takes over. He cries and yells, his voice muffled by Yunho, who doesn’t say a word, only holds him. How can Yunho be dead when he feels so solid, so warm? How can he be dead when Seonghwa’s body remembers this, how perfectly he fit into his arms?

He cries until the world comes to a rest, until all his energy is drained and his eyelids become heavier and heavier. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When he wakes up, he’s in his bed, but still in Yunho’s arms. The sun is slowly setting, painting the room in purple and orange colors. There are no more tears in his eyes. 

“Did I do this?” he whispers hoarsely, tangling his fingers with Yunho’s. “Did I kill you?”

Even now, like this, he cannot remember clearly.

Yunho shakes his head. “I did it.”

Seonghwa glances at him and the absolute dejection in his red-rimmed eyes. “How?”

“You got drunk at a business meeting and called me to come pick you up since you had the car but didn’t want to drive.” Yunho explains. Every word is coming out with difficulty, as if he doesn’t want to say it. “You started feeling really nauseous during the drive, and I sped up so I could get you home faster. And I didn’t see the red light, and…”

His voice fades. There’s no need to say anything else, is there? Seonghwa doesn’t want to hear the details of how they probably collided with another vehicle. Doesn’t want to hear that his brain erased everything. 

“When they realized you didn’t remember anything about the crash or me, your parents came here and took most of my stuff away. They didn’t want to throw the photo, so they hid it.”

To protect him from the pain.

But what about the pain he’s feeling now? A pain that feels like a second skin, that gets into every cell and every fiber of his body. How is he supposed to go on like this? To pretend this is nothing? 

“I wanted to make sure you’d be ok.” Yunho confesses. “Two months in a coma, I was going crazy. That’s why I…”

“That’s why you were everywhere.” Seonghwa murmurs. “That’s why you never talked to me.”

“I didn’t want to trigger anything and cause you more pain.”

What could hurt more than this?

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The one year anniversary comes and goes. Seonghwa doesn’t feel healed. Doesn’t feel relieved.

All he feels is misery, and depression. He feels empty, like he doesn’t belong here. Like he’s just hovering in this world, passing his days without a meaning. 

Even with Yunho still showing up, it’s not enough. Now that he knows, he knows he doesn’t want it to be like this. 

Seonghwa is losing himself. 

This place doesn’t even feel like home anymore. This isn’t him. 

It swallows him, consumes him, pushes him to the depths of darkness.

Seonghwa reaches home after work, but doesn’t get out of the car.

The thought has been circling in his mind all day. Now it’s late, and the neighbourhood is quiet again. That damn street light is still flickering. 

It will be easy. All he has to do is turn on the engine again, grab the wheel, and drive. Drive fast, without looking behind. Without looking left or right. Without stopping. 

This will stop the pain. It will silence the thoughts in his head. It will keep his heart from breaking again. 

Seonghwa breathes, staring at the key. 

“Please don’t.”

For the first time, Yunho is sitting there, by Seonghwa’s side, in the passenger seat. Not in the back. Not a blur in the mirror or a shadow in the window. 

Seonghwa hates the melancholy and regret on his face. 

"I should have died with you then." he whispers. "I feel like I did."

Yunho parts his lips, devastation pooling in his eyes. "I wanted to watch over you, make sure you are ok." he says. The brokenness in his voice is somehow soothing Seonghwa's heart. What will change if he keeps on going? What does it matter now that he remembers?

He swallows. "I cannot be fine knowing what happened." he breathes. "I don't…want to be here without you."

Yunho shakes his head. "I cannot watch you do this, Seonghwa. I cannot let you go through that pain again." 

The pain…

They keep hurting each other, don’t they? When all they want is to love each other. 

Seonghwa’s heart takes the reins; there is no way he can go back now. 

"Then you do it.” He says quietly. Yunho blinks under his bangs. “You take me with you. Make it so that it doesn't hurt."

He knows what he’s saying, and he knows how it sounds. Yunho's whole face seems to harden. "You don't know what you're asking."

Seonghwa's lips curl into a bitter smile. Of course, that’s the kind of answer he expected. "I'm asking to be with you." he says. “Please.”

For a moment, all he can hear is silence, and that damn flickering sound of the street light outside. Maybe, a car in the distance. It gets unbearable, slowly. Seonghwa can see the denial in Yunho’s eyes. The resistance. 

“I didn’t come here to break you more.” he whispers.

Seonghwa reaches for his hand. The lump in his own throat makes it hard to speak properly. “Just put me back together.” he pleads. “I’m not…I need you to be complete. I need to be with you. It’s the only way we have left.”

Yunho’s free hand reaches up to Seonghwa’s face, cupping his cheek. His thumb brushes over his lips. It eases the pain a little. “I won’t be able to change this.” he whispers out a warning. “Do you know what you’re asking?”

“Take me with you.” Seonghwa repeats, and this time, his voice is much steadier, the resolve impossible to miss. He lets go of Yunho, only for him to cup Seonghwa’s face with both hands. He leans in, foreheads pressing against each other, and Seonghwa lets his own body draw in the warmth. How cold Yunho felt in the beginning…

Yunho holds his face for a moment like it’s the most fragile thing in the world. 

Then his hands shift lower, delicate fingers wrapping around Seonghwa’s neck. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers. 

“Don’t be.” Seonghwa comforts him. Gentle, sure.

I love you.

The hands tighten around his throat, and Yunho covers Seonghwa’s mouth with his own.

The world stills.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………