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The grey of the Seattle sky is a constant companion. It follows him as he hosts his luggage out of the car and onto the sidewalk in front of the house which hasn’t changed for as long as he’s been alive. He turns to thank the driver, but the car’s already driving off down the street.
Heeseung sighs as he tugs his luggage with him to the front door, the wheels catching on the edge of the porch as he heaves it up. He prays she’s home because he lost the keys somewhere around his fifth month in Korea. On the third ring of the doorbell, the door is flung open with such force Heeseung automatically flinches back.
“What happened to calling me in advance?” Her first words to him in-person after years apart, and it’s still the same scolding. He loves it. “What if you got into an accident? You don’t care about giving your mom a heart attack, I see.”
Heeseung only looks at her and opens his arms. Her face crumples as she clings onto him, weakly beating his back. “How insolent my only son is, only coming back only after these years. Telling me only yesterday that you were coming back! What should I do with you?”
He laughs weakly into her hair. “I don’t know, mom. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” She untangles herself from him, immediately zeroing in on how bedraggled he looks after a twelve hour flight.
“Go take a shower, I’m already preparing dinner. And don’t forget your luggage!”
Stepping inside is so nostalgic that he has to take a breath to fortify himself. It smells of when he was still a kid, running up and down the stairs when he got home from school to get on his PC to game while his mom yelled at him to do homework. Things have obviously changed in the years his mom has been living here by herself, as evidenced by how he looks in all of their cabinets upstairs for a towel after his shower. It’s the one they used to designate as the towel to bring to all the beaches and picnics.
Coming downstairs is an experience he wishes he could stay in forever. Walking towards what he knows is a cozy dinner prepared by his mother, the lights warm and dim compared to the stiff breeze outside. It’s his safe little haven from the world.
She’s scooping some golden curry into a bowl for him, for once silent as she focuses on not spilling any. “Before you sit down,” she begins, “I need to tell you something. I promise I forgot about it—”
She’s cut off by the doorbell ringing. Heeseung freezes where he’s standing. Her face is doing that thing where she knows she’s technically in the wrong but will deny it to her dying day. “I forgot I invited someone to have dinner with me today.”
“Who?” Heeseung demands. “Are—Are you dating someone? I mean, it’s fine if you are, but it’s gotta be kind of serious if I’m meeting them, right?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” She snaps, cheeks flaming red. “You think I have the time for that? Just go open the door, he’s already been waiting while we argue!”
It’s a he. Heeseung is on high alert at the pronoun, suspicion settled into him no matter what his mother says. If it’s someone who’s interested in her, it’s his duty as her son to chase them away—
Any exclamations or protests die on his tongue as he struggles to comprehend who’s at their front door. It’s like seeing a shooting star. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, expressive eyebrows and piercing eyes. Even with silver hair, he’s as recognizable as the day Heeseung met him.
“Hi, auntie—“ Jongseong cuts himself off as he sees Heeseung, eyes widening. He blinks a few times as if Heeseung will disappear if he does it long enough.
“Jongseong?” Heeseung asks. He asks it very quietly in fear that Jongseong is also an apparition who will disappear from his front porch if raises his voice.
“Heeseung?” He sounds just as tentative as Heeseung does. He can’t rationalize, can’t explain why he does what he does next: step forward and pull Jongseong into a hug as if they do this every week. He can’t remember what it felt like the last time he hugged Jongseong, but the warmth he radiates and the arms which automatically slide around him more than makes up for it.
“Oh, we’re hugging now? Okay, sure, no problem, nothing wrong with that,” Jongseong rambles as Heeseung holds onto him. It’s as if he’s not in control of his body anymore: someone who he lost touch with and hasn’t seen for years, but clinging onto them like a limpet without a word when they see each other again.
He rips himself apart from Jongseong as soon as it sinks in that he really did that, burning with mortification. He closes his eyes: it’s easier to apologize when he doesn’t have to look Jongseong in the eye. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
A touch under his chin makes him open his eyes in shock, Jongseong smiling as if he’s done nothing wrong and the past seven years between them have been erased. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Heeseung. I’m glad you’re back.”
Heeseung can’t help himself from stealing glances at Jongseong throughout dinner. The last time they’d seen each other had been their high school graduation, both of them in a fit of ugly sobs because Heeseung’s plane to Korea had been scheduled for three hours after the ceremony. It would take him one to get to the airport, one to go through security and one to wait for his flight all the while thinking about leaving behind Jongseong.
He hasn’t thought about Jongseong for the past three years. Thinking about what he left behind in America only made him sad. Now, he’s sitting at Heeseung’s mother’s kitchen table, spooning curry into his mouth as if this is something he does weekly.
He turns out to be right: his mother beams with pride as she tells him all about how Jongseong has kept her company all these years, dropping by dutifully to help her with groceries and volunteering to drive her for her errands. He’s stepped into the role Heeseung had left vacant. Heeseung doesn’t feel any bitterness or resentment for Jongseong being the son he’s supposed to be: he only feels guilt for choosing to not be it.
It’s ridiculous to be surprised at how Jongseong has changed when Heeseung probably looks unidentifiable compared to his high school days. He no longer looks like a delinquent who would skip class at any available opportunity, the sharp edge of his features now suited to a confident career man. If Heeseung saw him walking down a busy street, he’d be cowed by the aura he exudes. But he knows Jongseong, so all he sees is the genuine grin he wears as Heeseung’s mother regales him with another dramatic retelling of her week.
He doesn’t know how to interject himself into the conversation, but Jongseong seems perfectly unfazed at his addition to the table. He doesn’t know how his mother literally forgot about Jongseong coming over the same day her son returns.
“Heeseung,” he says casually, “how are you doing? How was Korea?”
Heeseung pauses in his eating. There’s his real answer: Horrible, which is why I came back to Seattle as if returning to my hometown would somehow solve all of my life problems. He can’t say that; Jongseong would politely and awkwardly laugh it off as a joke then never join them for dinner again. He wants Jongseong to stick around for longer, and that means pretending to be a normal, functioning human.
“Fine,” he lies. Jongseong and his mother both look disbelieving from his hesitation. He never said he was a good liar. He scrambles for a question to fill the silence. “And you? What have you been up to since…”
He trails off. He wants to never open his mouth again when he can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. Jongseong saves him from marinating in his own embarrassment. All that PR training is as good as useless around people whom he genuinely wants to talk to.
“I’m good, man,” he says, eyes crinkling as he smiles. “Working a regular nine to five, but I don’t mind it. I still have time for other things I want to do.”
Heeseung desperately wants to know what it is that Jongseong wants to do outside of work. He wants to shake him like a piñata and see what answers to living a fulfilling life falls out of him. Instead, he takes another bite of his curry and swallows. It tastes like dirt going down his throat. “That’s good to hear.”
His mother quickly jumps in when it’s clear that’s all Heeseung has to say. “Jay-ah, what do you say about taking Heeseung around the city for the next few days? Since it’s been so long since he’s been back, he’s probably forgotten where everything is.”
Heeseung almost drops his spoon at his mother’s interference. First of all, his memory is perfectly intact: he remembers plenty of places he and Jongseong had visited together, especially as the threat of graduation had loomed over them like a spectre. Plus, Jongseong has a job. He’s an adult with responsibilities who can’t just casually take time off to escort a friend-turned-stranger.
“Sure!” Jongseong brightens at her words as if he’s actually excited at the idea of spending time with Heeseung. “I don’t mind. Just let me know when.”
Two pairs of eyes turn to him expectantly. Heeseung wants to remind them that he never verbally agreed to any of this, but he wants to. It’s no use arguing with the two most stubborn people he knows.
“I didn’t really come back here with a plan,” he says weakly. “So… anytime works for me.” He might as well slap a sign on his forehead saying: BEWARE! LOSER GOING THROUGH EXISTENTIAL CRISIS!
Jongseong looks as if he doesn’t mind what a loser Heeseung is. “I’ll take you to all the nice places,” he promises, looking at Heeseung with too earnest eyes. Heeseung thinks he might be allergic to such genuine eyes.
He nods, excitement fluttering in his chest. He had thought coming back here would mean moping in his room, hoping an answer would reveal itself by staring hard enough at his bedroom ceiling. He hadn’t thought he would have the courage to reconnect with anyone he used to know here, least of all Jongseong.
“I have to go soon,” Jongseong says regretfully, looking at his watch. “Thank you for having me over today.”
“Oh, it was no problem!” Heeseung’s mother fusses. “You know you’re always welcome around here anytime.”
Heeseung isn’t sure what else to add, so he just smiles and nods as if to acknowledge how welcome Jongseong is around here. He already does more for Heeseung’s mother than Heeseung does himself. Sending paycheques across the globe doesn’t make up for missing birthdays and washing the dishes when she’s the one who makes all the meals.
He’s the one who awkwardly escorts Jongseong to the front door, not yet willing to let him go so easily. Jongseong promised to meet him, but when? Where? Does he even have Jongseong’s number anymore? He doesn’t think so: he’s switched through so many phones for contracts and brand deals that the only numbers he knows by heart are his mother’s and the Chinese take-out place around the corner of his apartment.
Jongseong solves the dilemma for him by holding out a hand expectantly. Heeseung looks, confused. Is he asking for a goodbye handshake? Is that a thing? It must show on his face, because Jongseong chuckles. “Can I have your phone to put my number in?”
Heeseung flushes. “Yeah, just—one second.” He fumbles for his phone, cursing himself for staring blankly at the home screen of the device. He’s only had it for a month or so and hadn’t bothered organizing any of his apps. He doesn’t even know where the one for contacts is. To his surprise, Jongseong smoothly plucks it out of his grasp to expertly navigate through the chaos of his jumbled apps.
“I figured your phone would still be a mess,” he says, his lips slightly curving up. Heeseung wants him to elaborate what he means by that very badly. “Here you go.”
The contact says Jay. Heeseung frowns, because he has never once thought of Jongseong as Jay, and he’s not about to on his phone. He changes it to Jongseong. When he looks up, Jongseong is watching him with an unreadable expression.
“You know, everyone calls me Jay,” he says thoughtfully. “Even your mom.”
Heeseung purses his lips. “I’ve always called you Jongseong, though.” All the better if he’s the only one who says it: like a special nickname Jongseong responds to only for him.
Jongseong cracks a smile. “I never said I minded.”
It sends a frisson of satisfaction down Heeseung’s spine, permission fully granted to cling onto the name. Jongseong is so much more approachable than Jay.
“I’ll text you when I’m free,” Jongseong promises, one foot already out the door. “Please figure out how to use your phone in the meantime!”
“I will!” Heeseung protests, cracking up at the deadpan stare Jongseong gives him. “Have a safe trip back!”
He stays there by the open door until Jongseong has driven fully out of sight. Turning around, he’s met with the sight of his mother leaning by the table, having witnessed their entire interaction. She gives a hefty sigh.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the two of you together in this house.”
Heeseung has to blink back the sudden sting of tears in his eyes. She says it like she never expected to see it again.
“I missed him,” he manages to get out. His mom would be the last person on earth to judge him on how he feels, no matter how contradictory his actions are to his words. “It was really nice to see him again.”
Now it’s his turn to be swept up into a hug, her embrace just as comforting as it was back when he left for the airport. “You guys were so close in high school, weren’t you?” she murmurs. Heeseung can only nod in response, throat tight at her use of the past tense. It’s almost funny how one day you can be so close to a person and think you know everything about them, from their fears to their dreams to their habits, and then just fall out of touch so easily. He doesn’t know why he didn’t try harder to respond to Jongseong’s texts while he was spending countless nights in the practice rooms, looking at his reflection in the mirror for so long that he got sick of seeing himself. It was probably the same reason he always lied and told his mother he was fine during those nights he cried himself to sleep.
“I’m sorry, mom,” he whispers into her hair. It’s not just about him anymore. It’s about how she had to let her only son travel to the other side of the globe and had to trust him with himself.
“It’s okay,” she says back to him. “It’s all okay now. Don’t worry about the past. You’re here now.”
Jongseong:
Are you free Thursday evening?
At this point, he’s free every evening.
Heeseung:
Yeah, why?
Jongseong:
Don’t worry about it. Just be ready there by five.
His palms grow sweaty just from reading Jongseong’s texts. He sounds so authoritative, so sure of himself in contrast to Heeseung’s lame answer. See, the whole finding himself thing sounded a lot more approachable when it was just him questioning the meaning of life, but adding concrete action to it: terrifying. He tries to remember that he’s undergone much more difficult ordeals such as preparing for individual concerts and hosting fansigns when he was petrified of interacting with fans. None of those recollections help settle his nerves when it comes to spending time with someone who took the time to really know who Heeseung used to be.
His heart won’t stop pounding as he gets into Jongseong’s car. It’s the same kind of nervousness which is half-excitement, half-anxiety and a hundred percent anticipation. Jongseong looks even more put together than he did before, slicked back hair and outfit coordinated to make Heeseung feel a little shabby in his sweatpants and hoodie. He’d chosen it for convenience and comfort, but being without a face of perfectly done makeup and carefully styled hair is a novel feeling. Jongseong doesn’t try to hide how he scans Heeseung’s figure from top to bottom.
“You look pretty different from the billboards,” he casually remarks, making Heeseung flush. He busies himself with his seatbelt to avoid looking at Jongseong.
“Well. I don’t exactly have to perform or look good for thousands of people right now.”
“Not afraid of any paparazzi?”
He shoots Jongseong a look. “What would the headlines even talk about? Me dressing like a slob and going out with a friend?”
Jongseong chuckles, as if Heeseung being snarky is amusing. “I didn’t say you looked like a slob.”
“It’s implied. Especially when you look like that.”
Jongseong's grin widens, and Heeseung feels as if he’s just stepped into a very obvious trap. “That implies you think I look good.”
The brazenness is new. Jongseong had been a force to reckon with back then, passion and determination personified, but now he exudes a certainty about himself Heeseung is sure he wouldn’t be able to replicate in a million years.
There’s no use hiding how red his ears are, so Heeseung just looks straight ahead and refuses to turn his head. “And? Wasn’t the whole point of this to bring me around the city?”
"I thought you would have remembered a few places, at the very least."
“I don’t remember much.”
In truth, Heeseung would be content sitting in this car for hours talking to Jongseong. He doesn’t think getting bored would be a possibility when Jongseong can talk for hours and hours about anything and Heeseung could listen for hours and hours on end, satisfied.
“Tell me where you want to go,” Jongseong wheedles. “There’s gotta be a place you want to visit again, right? Or maybe you want to eat something?”
“I– I don’t know, I’d be fine with anything you choose.”
Jongseong tilts his head. “Really? Even if it’s a museum?”
Heeseung automatically scrunches his nose at the idea of standing for hours to look at abstract art he can’t understand before he quickly schools his face to a neutral expression. It’s too late, though, because Jongseong is looking at him fondly.
“You can’t lie to me,” Jongseong says softly. “It’s okay to tell me what you want.”
You still remember something so small about me, Heeseung thinks. Seven years, and Jongseong still remembers he's bored by museums. Heeseung, who he hasn't seen for years and maybe didn't expect to ever see again. He has to press his lips together to keep from smiling from the warmth spreading throughout his body at the thought of someone thinking about him.
“You can pick for us,” he says. “If you’re the one to choose, I’m sure I’ll like it.”
Jongseong studies his face for a moment, searching for any indication that he’s saying anything less than the truth. It’s easy to keep his expression open and and guileless for him. He must find what he’s looking for, because he finally starts driving.
In true Jongseong fashion, they pull up into the parking lot of a thrift store. Heeseung looks out of the window dubiously, aware of the clouds in the sky gathering to add rain to the already gloomy day.
“I figured you didn’t bring many clothes back here,” Jongseong is saying, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “So we’re getting you some new outfits. With my personal expertise, of course.”
Heeseung’s apprehensive at the thought of shopping. Every outfit worn back in Korea had been carefully curated for Heeseung according to his schedule and image, meaning he hadn’t bought a single piece of clothing by himself in a while. He doesn’t think Jongseong would be too impressed with his penchant for sweats and beanies.
Jongseong must notice his hesitation, because he leans over to flick Heeseung’s forehead. “What’s wrong with you? Most people love to go shopping!”
“Ow,” he mumbles, but the pain helps clear his mind. There’s nothing to be scared of here.
They push through the racks of clothing, surrounded on all sides by towering piles of jackets and jeans and scarves and boots. None of it seems to be sorted by size but instead by colour, which increases Heeseung's uneasiness. He generally tends to stay away from any colour, sticking to shades of black and grey on his off-days. They're safe colours: bland, everyday clothes he could pick within a second from his closet. Nothing about this is safe, from the bright sunshine-yellow blouse he spots to the sage green denim jacket Jongseong immediately reaches for.
"Do you like this?"
Heeseung pauses before answering. "Wouldn't that look a little... too much?"
Jongseong gives him a dubious look. "Sage is too much for you?"
"No, no, it looks fine," he hastily amends, reaching for the jacket. The material isn't as soft as Heeseung would like it to be, and shades of green have never been his favourite. Still, Jongseong picked it out for him. He must have had a reason. That's all the incentive he needs to hold it close to his chest.
"Are you sure?" Jongseong asks. He's looking at Heeseung like he's asking if he's sure about marriage, or as if he's about to make an irreversible, life-changing decision by accepting the jacket. It's making Heeseung's palms sweat. His inability to lie strikes again.
"Yeeeeeeeeees," he draws out. Jongseong sighs.
"Forget about it then, we'll find something you actually like."
It's a defensive reflex to open his mouth and protest. "No, I do like it!" To be honest, he doesn't want to stretch this out any longer than necessary. He's not a person concerned with fashion: confronted with a dizzying amount of choice, Heeseung is willing to go along with Jongseong's opinion in this area. But Jongseong doesn't look as if he's letting it go.
"Okay," he says, and Heeseung can’t stop his eyes from tracing the way Jongseong’s eyes narrow and his head tilts to unintentionally show off his jawline. "What do you like about it?"
"It's, uh, denim. And isn't denim popular? Like, you can wear it with anything?"
"So you only like it because it goes with everything?"
Heeseung tries to wrack his brain for any other reason. It can't be that hard to find something good about a piece of clothing. But he genuinely can't find anything else appealing about it: if he had spotted it himself, he would have walked by it without a second thought. The colour, the texture, the shape, none of it goes with what he likes.
"I guess so?" He hates how his voice becomes higher, sounding so unsure of himself. He doesn't even know why he's trying to convince Jongseong.
Jongseong's gaze softens in the face of his indecision. "Heeseung, today is all about you and what you want. I was just trying to point out something you might have liked, but it's okay to say you hate it if you hate it. Why would you wear something that you don't like or appreciate?"
He looks genuinely concerned and puzzled, which makes Heeseung feel even worse. Aren’t people able to say why they like or dislike something? Why is it so difficult for him?
“I—I don’t know.”
His answer doesn’t satisfy himself, and it doesn’t satisfy Jongseong either. He takes a step back and Heeseung feels as if he’s made out of glass with how easily Jongseong can see through him.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Jongseong says. “Let’s go eat something instead.”
Heeseung leaves the jacket on the clothing rack. He tries not to dwell on it, how it took so little for Heeseung to mess up something which was supposed to be so simple. He fails.
The next place is something a little more familiar to Heeseung. He gasps when he recognizes the route Jongseong is taking, eagerly peering out the window to see what he thinks it is.
“It’s still open?” he asks. Jongseong smirks.
“Of course. If it satisfied your standards, it’s good enough for everyone else.”
The scent of ramen tempts his nose. His mouth waters at the thought of his favourite tonkotsu broth.
“Do you remember how often we came here?”
It’s his turn to scoff, looking disbelievingly at Jongseong. “How could I not? This was the highlight.”
Anytime they passed or bombed an exam, this would be where they went to celebrate or mourn. It’s a cozy spot with the biggest table only for two, but that’s never been a problem when it’s only ever been just the two of them. He feels something inside him relax when stepping through the doors to be greeted by the familiar atmosphere of muted lights and chatter of other diners.
“Table for two, please,” Jongseong requests. When they’re led to one in a corner, Jongseong pulls out his chair for him before Heeseung can even think of protesting. He feels flustered, but not in the embarrassing-anxious-nervous sort of way. More like the giddy-happy-fond sort of way he can’t get rid of.
“Are you ordering the usual?” Jongseong asks. Heeseung nods before fully processing the question. It’s like the museum thing all over again: You still remember? He doesn’t think his heart can take much more of this.
Jongseong does, in fact, remember his order.
“He’ll have the tonkotsu broth with thin noodles and an extra egg,” he briskly tells the waiter, snapping the menu shut. “That’s all, thank you.”
Heeseung can’t help but feel as if he’s barely said or done anything, but Jongseong understands him regardless and knows exactly what he wants. It’s refreshing for someone to know what he truly likes or doesn’t as Heeseung the person and not Heeseung the singer. Feeling insecure about seeing Jongseong again was a mistake: even if he isn’t quite sure where they stand now, he knows they loved each other, and that kind of love is imprinted on them forever.
Jongseong breaks the silence.
“You know, I wasn’t going to ask about it, because you probably had your own reasons and just wanted privacy when you were back here. And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But—Heeseung, why did you come back here?”
The only thing keeping Heeseung from clamming up is that he knows Jongseong doesn’t have any intent to judge him. Even if he gives the most ridiculous, obviously fake answer, Jongseong will accept it and they’ll move on like nothing ever happened. But the people in his life deserve some honesty and transparency, Jongseong most of all.
Just to be sure, he takes one last look at Jongseong. “Are you sure you want to listen?”
“I’m sure.”
“I wasn’t happy.”
It’s a little funny how months of agonizing and indecision and pacing at night can be summarized in three words. He told a different story to his company: I need inspiration, I need a change of scenery, I need some rest to focus on songwriting and composing so I can come up with something bigger and better. You have to let me go for a while.
They’d only agreed because he had spent the last few years working tirelessly, putting his personal life to the side to succeed no matter what. And he’d done it: he had the fans, the awards, the talent, the connections, the recognition.
And he had been so unbearably unhappy everyday that he felt like a ghost walking through the steps of the living. If he felt like being honest with himself, the tipping point had been one day when he had been at a busy junction downtown headed to a convenience store. He’d had his mask and cap on to avoid anyone who might recognize him, blending in with the crowds of people going about their daily lives. He’d felt so anonymous and faceless that staring at the traffic light turning green, he’d fleetingly thought about stepping into oncoming traffic.
It had startled Heeseung so badly that he had decided to just go home without his cup ramen, heart racing at the direction of his thoughts. Feeling sad and down for a while was normal, but even he knew that just imagining getting into an accident was dangerous.
He figures he should add more than just saying what must have already been obvious to Jongseong. “I love music. I’m glad that I had the opportunity to work for so long. But—“
He shakes his head, hoping it’ll help with reducing the sheen of tears he feels in his eyes. It doesn’t work. “I don’t know. I feel as if I don’t know anything. I just felt like things weren’t getting better there, and coming back here was obvious. My mom is here, and it’s been so long since I’ve stayed with her for a while. But if you’re asking about what I want to do beyond that, I don’t know.”
Heeseung doesn’t know how to communicate the kind of hopelessness he’d felt. For all of his acclaimed lyrics, the words fall short when it’s just him struggling to get out of bed. He can’t explain how he can simultaneously feel satisfied and content when thinking about the work he’s put in, yet how none of it feels important and meaningful to him when he’s having one of those days.
Jongseong hasn’t said a word yet, making eye contact with Heeseung the entire time. “So yeah,” he finishes lamely. “That’s why.”
He must seem pathetic: the typical celebrity, realizing work and money doesn’t get you where you want to be. He’s still not sure where it is.
The touch of Jongseong’s hand is the warmest thing Heeseung’s felt in months. He jerks in surprise, looking down at where their hands are connected.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Jongseong says. He’s blinking furiously too, eyes watery. “I’m sorry, I know nothing I say will make it better.
“It’s okay,” Heeseung says. “We weren’t talking. We weren’t on the same continent.”
“We are now, though,” he counters. “Isn’t that what matters?”
Heeseung breaks into a tiny smile. Jongseong is right. Here he is, at his favourite ramen spot in his hometown, sitting across the boy he’s loved more than anyone else in the world. There is the past and the future waiting for him, but right now the present has decided to be kind to him.
“There’s one more thing I wanted to say,” he voices quietly. He sounds so small and scared that he almost regrets opening his mouth. "I missed you. I'm really sorry I didn't make an effort to keep in touch with you when I left. I don't have any reason good enough to justify why, but I'm not saying this to pretend like the last few years never happened, I'm saying it to tell you how much I want you in my life."
There is no hesitation, there is no pause. There is no time to feel uncertainty or doubt after baring his wish, because Jongseong doesn’t let go as he says, “I missed you, too.”
The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Heeseung doesn’t have any idea how Jongseong gets so much time off work on such short notice or why he wants to spend all his time with Heeseung, but he’s not complaining. They spend all of their days driving to places, discovering new things they want to do and reclaiming the ones they left behind a while ago. Jongseong discovers a penchant for gardening until Heeseung points out the likelihood of growing anything bigger than the size of a peanut is impossible with how gloomy the weather is. Heeseung visits the library almost every day after Jongseong dragged him there for an afternoon and found himself so absorbed that he didn’t notice Jongseong had left to get bubble tea until he had come back, laughing at Heeseung.
It’s a curious feeling, to do things solely for the sake of his enjoyment. He has no overarching goal to work towards, no plan on how to spend the time he’s here for. He doesn’t even know how long he’ll stay here for. Every time he thinks about leaving, he gets a lump in his throat. To return to Korea and his sterile apartment and neatly formatted daily schedule: he knows he would crack underneath it all in no time.
"What are you worrying about?" Jay asks, leaning over him on the couch to reach the bag of chips. It's a relaxed day for them, bingeing whatever shows are popular on Netflix while they alternatively snack and go on their phones.
"Who says I'm worrying?"
"I say so, because you look like you're on another planet and not in a good way."
“I…” He fidgets with the sleeve of his hoodie, anxiety making him hesitate. “I was just thinking about what happens when I go back.”
Jongseong pauses the show, turning to him with his full attention. Heeseung’s never mentioned anything about future plans to Jongseong because saying it aloud makes it real, and he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Not yet.
“And what happens when you go back?” Jongseong inquires patiently.
“Well, I don’t think anything would change. Wouldn’t going back mean I have to keep up the same schedule?”
“You can ask for adjustments,” he points out. “You’re not a trainee who just debuted, Heeseung. You can’t, I don’t know, bargain with them? Adjust the terms of your contract? It’s not all or nothing. You’re the face of the company.”
Heeseung slides further down the couch until he’s looking at the ceiling, burying his face in the pillow he’s clutching. Everything Jongseong is saying is right: it doesn’t need to be all-or-nothing when it comes to work, no matter how much it feels like it. He has options, mechanisms to stop himself from falling back into that trap again.
He just doesn’t want to.
“What if I don’t want to go back?”
He doesn’t expect the sound of Jongseong sharply inhaling. When he looks over, Jongseong has a disbelieving look on his face. “You’re not going back?”
“I haven’t decided anything,” Heeseung counters. “I know I can’t do nothing forever, but I can take my time deciding now. I’ve given explicit instructions to Beomgyu to not contact me for at least three months.”
“Beomgyu? Who’s that?”
“I haven’t told you about him?” Jongseong sits up straighter on the couch, eyes narrowing.
“No, you haven’t. Someone back in Korea?”
Heeseung can’t stop himself from laughing at how suspicious Jongseong sounds. “He’s my manager. A really good one, too, so don’t worry.”
Jongseong’s cheeks colour red at Heeseung’s reaction, and he throws a pillow which almost knocks Heeseung off the couch.
Maybe he wants me here as much I want him, Heeseung thinks. He’s not blind— going from spending everyday together to being separated for months on end before Heeseung’s schedule allows him a break would hurt both of them. He has to laugh at the audacity of it all: in just a few weeks, Jongseong has cemented himself in his life to nearly the same degree of importance of his musical career. He thinks that if he had to choose between Jongseong or singing, he would die two deaths.
Before he does anything, he has to do the first thing any good Asian son would: ask their mom. Even when they were separated, he relied heavily on the memories of her advice to get to where he was today. She was always brutally honest but at Heeseung’s benefit, reminding him to chase his dream with the necessary work and effort. He needs to hear from another person who’s witnessed his journey to see if what he’s thinking of is really the right path for him.
“Mom,” Heeseung says, pushing his plate away from him. Their dinner was good like always, but he can’t concentrate on the food when all he wants is her approval. “Can I talk to you about something?”
She pauses in her eating, knowing something is up from his tone. “Is something wrong?”
“I— Maybe? I’m not sure. I wanted to ask you about something.”
She sits back, seriousness etched on her face. “You can ask me anything.”
Heeseung takes a deep breath. “What do you think about me not going back to Korea? If I stayed here, or, I don’t know, just— go anywhere but there.”
Her face pales. “Did something happen to your contract?”
“No, no,” he quickly reassures. “In fact, the only reason I’m bringing it up is because it’s ending soon, actually. And… I don’t know if I want to renew it. For several reasons.”
She’s quiet for several seconds. He feels his chest tighten in anxiety, breaths taking more conscious effort on his part to come the longer she goes without saying anything. If she doesn’t understand, if she doesn’t approve, he doesn’t know what he would do. All he’s ever wanted was to make her proud of who he was.
“Heeseung-ah, I know how hard you’ve worked for this. If you’re unsure about renewing it, you must already have a good reason why.”
He does. Heeseung has plenty of reasons why, and why not to. He just wants to know if one of, if not the most important person in his life, will understand them too. If they’ll still love and support him for it, because that’s all that matters.
“I think I do.” Something must be wrong with his tear ducts, because before coming home he rarely cried. Now, he can’t stop them from leaking every time he tries to have a serious conversation. “I want to be happy, and I wasn’t happy there.”
She looks fierce, now, ready to attack whoever made him upset even if it was no singular thing which made him bow.
“Heeseung, all I ever wanted was for you to do what made you happy. And for a while, that meant you living in Korea and being away from me because you needed to sing. How could I be upset about my boy having the kind of career so many people can only dream about? As long as you were happy singing, I was happy for you. But if it doesn’t make you happy anymore, I don’t care! Find the next thing that does!”
Heeseung starts laughing, the relief in his body too great to keep contained. His mother doesn’t care what happens to his career: she only cares about him and his well-being. He can’t stop laughing at how it almost makes him cry, how he spent so many sleepless nights worrying about disappointing her when she couldn’t have cared less about those details.
“Thank you, mom.”
Her answering smile makes every single one of his worries and fears melt away. “Anything you do, I’ll be here.” Her smile turns sly. “And so will Jongseong, I think.”
Heeseung can’t find it in himself to feel any embarrassment at what she’s insinuating. He only feels fondness. “I’m counting on it.”
“You know,” he begins casually, “I told my mom I’m not going back to Korea.”
Jongseong falls off the bed. “Heeseung,” he hisses, climbing back up, but there’s no reprimand to his voice, only a sort of barely-contained excitement. “Are you serious? You decided?”
“Yeah, I emailed Beomgyu. Can’t really take that back. Well, I could, but I honestly don’t know how email works beyond sending something.”
He’s rambling, he knows, to cover up the nervousness at how Jongseong will react. Will he be happy? Will he somehow know from freaky telepathic powers that he was a major factor in realizing how much change Heeseung wanted? He drums his fingers on the keyboard of his computer, rooted by his desk while Jongseong tries to pretend he didn’t just fall off.
“And you’re sure about it? You won’t change your mind? This isn’t a joke?”
Heeseung gives Jongseong a flat look. “Yes, it was definitely a joke when I told Beomgyu I wouldn’t be renewing my contract. All for funsies, you know?”
He can’t keep a dour face, not when Jongseong looks like the world was just handed to him on a silver platter. “I’m happy you decided to stay,” he admits, looking guilty. “I’m just worried about what happens next. What are you going to do here? Will you regret it after some time?”
He has to fight back a smile, at how Jongseong’s first thoughts are the first things he considered before making the decision. “I worried about that too. About how much I might be leaving behind and if I’ll ever get it back. I used to think that something had to be hard to be worthwhile. If I had poured everything I had into it, if I cried over it, it had to be all for something, right? It had to be for my dream, for what I wanted the most. But I think somewhere along the way, I started using it to justify doing something which made me so unhappy.”
Jongseong is looking at him now with those soft eyes, the ones which make him look at Heeseung as if he's the most precious thing in the world he’s ever seen. He hasn’t told or teased him about it yet in case he stops, because he thinks it's what keeps him going. Jongseong makes him feel adored, as if all he needs to do to be worthy is exist, and it turns out that’s all Heeseung has ever needed.
Heeseung continues. “I just need some time to figure out what does make me happy. I think I’ve done enough stressful things for the past decade that I can just take a moment to breathe and not worry about whether or not I’ll achieve some expectation placed on me. You just—helped me realize what I truly wanted.”
“Which is?”
He raises an eyebrow at Jongseong’s tone. He sounds like he knows exactly what Heeseung will say.
“I could say something about friendship and family, but I think we both know the answer is you.”
The smile on Jongseong is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he left him after their graduation all those years ago.