Chapter Text
#1
Hands clasped together, the duo threaded their way through the busy streets of Cheonan, masks obscuring their faces from prying eyes. Dry leaves laid strewn across the pavement, scattered haphazardly, surrendering beneath their steps in brittle cracks and sighs — Autumn had just begun its quiet descent, marking the end of the season of cherry blossoms, first walks and innocent, hesitant confessions exchanged beneath shaded canopies. Moments that persisted far away from the ever watchful-gaze of the cameras.
A slight chill lingered in the air now, the cold sting of the changing seasons clinging to their skins and setting somewhere deep below. Bare trees loomed overhead like silent sentinels, their branches stripped clean, framing the streets below where life carried on undeterred.
Vendors huddled beneath makeshift awnings, having taken refuge under the carnages. Their voices rose in a practiced manner as they bartered with the familiar faces, the hustle and bustle of the residents never-ending. The narrow road, dotted with hole-in-the-wall restaurants the duo often frequented, buzzed with warmth, light and the hum of the evening crowd.
The day marked the 3rd anniversary of AND2BLE's debut, and 3 years and 6 months since Hao, Gyuvin, Ricky, and Yujin had parted ways with ZB1. 'Bittersweet' didn't begin to cover it: time had a way of both softening and sharpening memories, leaving behind an ache neither were ready to face.
Though the separation had been long anticipated — their contracts temporary from the very beginning — it still seemed to cut deeper than what any of them had been prepared for.
The moment they had stepped off that stage, it was as if the axis of their life had shifted completely off-course, their whole lives had been upturned. For the yuehua trainees, the change had been especially abrupt. The company wasted absolutely no time, making quick work of fixing them with new schedules and content to film and slotting them within new lineups, leaving little room to process what they had lost.
The five remaining had suffered a similar fate, with immediate comeback preparations, dance practices and vocal recordings that felt far too eerie with 4 less bodies. Everything felt hollowed out, as though something essential had been stripped away. The absence of those four lingered like a phantom limb, an emptiness too stark to ignore.
The first few days felt surreal, missing familiar faces and voices too evident in the zb1 dorms.
It was as if a switch had flipped in each one of them. Work seemed tiring, staying at the dorm felt suffocating.
Gunwook often cried silently in his room, entirely convinced no one had noticed. Matthew buried himself in the gym, chasing distraction in repetition. Jiwoong drifted further and further, absorbed in solo acting schedules more often than not. Taerae lingered in the company practice rooms far longer than needed, longer than he'd stay at the dorms. And Hanbin — the leader — would pathetically juggle between the company and the team, stretching himself thin between responsibilities, doing anything and everything that would keep his thoughts at bay.
He worked not out of ambition, but out of necessity, filling his days to make them pass faster, only so he could hear his jagi's voice at the end (may it be through a screen).
The members used to call the 4 constantly, Hanbin more so than normal. The leader would well up in sadness, trembling as he’d clutch the device every night, worried it'd slip away any second. He'd pour his heart out to the one on the other side, one overwhelmed in a similar fashion.
"Hyung, I can't do this. It feels so unfair." Hanbin would sob into the dead of the night, tangled in sheets devoid of a familiar weight by his side, eyes glossed over with unshed tears.
"It is unfair." Hao would croak out through the receiver, his own voice wavering and unsteady.
"I just wish I could do something about it…"
"We tried our best, baobei. But this was never ours to decide."
Over time, the scars began to fade, and the sting began to lessen slowly. It still hurt, but the pain had subsided into something like helplessness, or rather — acceptance. Acceptance that this was their reality; acceptance that they will never perform together on the same stage again; acceptance that maybe this was the new beginning, the change of space they truly needed.
But, their love did not fade. If anything, it transformed.
They called every night, yet instead of tearful confessions and heavy grief, the conversation was full of small joys, quiet laughter, and tentative dreams of what lays ahead. They met as often as they could, yet instead of reluctant goodbyes, the meetings became lighter, brighter, shaped by fleeting happiness rather than loss.
They learnt to adapt, and they learnt to love each other despite the distance. It wasn't easy, but it was the most rewarding experience of both of their lives.
To say Hanbin was proud of them at present was an understatement. He was so proud of Hao and the rest for the fame they had achieved in spite of the lineup consisting largely of rookies, winning ROTY and several daesangs in their first year alone. He was proud of himself and his own members for their success, of how they had endured and continued forward even after losing so much at once.
And above all, he was proud of their relationship, how it had held on in spite of everything that had happened in the past 6 years.
From the moment they had locked eyes in the boys planet audition round, Hanbin had known what tied him to the older was not something fleeting. Not something easily explained away.
It only deepened with every day that passed.
Though he'd never admit it out loud, the separation had not broken them, but made them stronger. All 9 of them, in ways they had never expected.
The memory of those two and a half years stayed fresh in his mind still, preserved clearly in time even after three years of separation. They gave him the strength he needed to carry on.
And, seeing them now, each of them radiant in their own right, was more than he could have ever asked for.
If distance was the price they had to pay to become who they were today, Hanbin would choose it again in a heartbeat.
"Aww, Hanbin-ah, look!" Hao exclaimed, halting mid-step as he gestured toward something just beyond Hanbin's line of sight.
He turned, only to be met with an endearingly disheveled spectacle — a small, white bundle of fur wobbling uncertainly on four unsteady legs, its black button nose and near-invisible eyes peeking through a cloud-like coat. The puppy advanced in hesitant, uneven steps, a tiny paw upturned in the air followed by the other, before glancing back at its owner, who rewarded it with a gentle pat and a bone-shaped treat.
~ a baby maltese!
The pup's tail, a mere flicker of fur, waggled with earnest enthusiasm as it toddled toward the duo, arriving just as Hao crouched to meet it at eye level.
"Hello there, sweetheart… aren't you just precious?" Hao mummered softly, extending his hand with deliberate care, allowing the puppy to decide whether to bridge the gap between them.
The small creature obliged almost instantly, nudging its nose against Hao's fingers with a soft, eager bark before rolling over. It flopped belly-up without hesitation, offering complete trust to the strangers it had just met.
"Haru!" The owner called, hurrying over, voice laced with mild embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, he's usually never this forward."
"It's alright," Hao replied with a light laugh, waving him off. "He's irresistible."
The owner let out an awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm honestly… surprised. He warmed up to you really quickly. He's a very shy one, keeps to himself even around people he knows."
"They tend to do that around him," Hanbin said, his tone light, yet gaze fondly latched onto his boyfriend. "Hao-hyung has that effect."
Hao shoots him a look — half warning, half amusement, before returning his attention to Haru, whose tiny tail thumped against the pavement ever so often as he twirled around, keening from the attention on him.
"I've never seen a more adorable thing!" Hao mused yet again, completely enamoured by the little enthusiastic creature practically hopping at him.
"Don't let his looks deceive you." The owner chirped. "He's truly a menace when he wants to be."
"I'd forgive all his wrongs solely because he's this cute."
"Pretty privilege is a very real concept." Hanbin let out almost mechanically, as if a news reporter reading a script. "Attractive people seem to get away with ever—"
"Then Haru has cute privilege!" Hao completed for the younger, flashing him a toothy smile, Hanbin visibly melting and ruffling his hair from where he stood overlooking them. "Not at all evil, huh?"
"I'm not sure he's even capable of being evil." The white fluff lunged at Hanbin, bouncing up on two tiny legs, pawing at his side as if asking for something.
"Oh— Would you two like to give him a treat?" The owner suddenly offered, fishing out a small container of dog treats from his carry bag.
Hao's eyes lit up immediately. "Wait, really? Are you sure?"
"Of course, he'd be very pleased about it. You two seem to have become his new best friends."
"Then… yes please, thank you." Hanbin answered, dipping his head lightly in polite acknowledgement.
They crouched down side by side, the chill of the ground faintly seeping in through the thin layer of clothes separating them, each accepting a bone-shaped biscuit. They held it carefully in their hands, extending as the dog sniffed and immediately stood upright.
"Haru," Hanbin called softly, gesturing towards the ground. "Okay, sit."
The puppy merely blinked at him, ears twitching and head tilting in confusion as if he processed none of that (which was probably true).
Hanbin huffed a quiet laugh. "No, no… like this. Sit," he repeated, a tinge firmer, his hand lowering slightly in demonstration.
There was a brief pause — then, as if struck by sudden understanding (or perhaps desperate temptation), Haru plopped down rather unceremoniously, eyes unwaveringly trained on the treat clutched between nimble fingers.
Hao let out a delighted gasp, moving to ruffle the now sitting puppy on the head. "Look at you, so clever!" He cooed, immediately reaching out to reward him. "What a good boy…"
The owner stifled a giggle, shaking his head at the spectacle. "He'd sell his soul for those, honestly. They're his absolute favourite."
"I can see that," Hao replied, smiling as he absentmindedly stroked the puppy's head, fingers carding through impossibly soft fur. "Though, I think he deserves them."
"Don't encourage him," the owner let out, yet there was no reprimand in his voice. "He's already spoiled as it is."
“He’s earned it,” Hanbin added, watching the interaction with quiet amusement. “Good temperament, quick learner… very charming.”
“That’s a generous assessment,” the owner said with a small laugh. “I’m glad he decided to behave today.”
For a while longer, they lingered, indulging Haru’s unabashed demands for attention, and exchanging small, easy remarks that dissolved into the ambient hum of the street.
The older, despite everything, always seemed to grow a little quieter around A2B’s debut anniversaries. He'd mummer about "New beginnings" and "Letting go" on streams and fan-signs, a gentle smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. Yet, at the end of each day, he'd lay curled up in the arms of his boyfriend, every trace of worry and quiet resentment slowly unraveling, carried off with the night and dissolving with the first light of morning.
It had been the same routine for the last two anniversaries (and every milestone there was).
Yet, Hanbin failed to notice any residual sadness in Hao's expression, any lingering hesitation as he remained crouched down, focused on the tiny furred pup weaving excited circles around his hands. He looked… content, a soft, unguarded smile resting on his face as he continued to caress the puppy, who had now grown entirely enamoured with him.
'Haru might just be my dog equivalent,' Hanbin mused to himself.
Eventually, the owner gave a soft clap of his hands. “Alright, Haru and I should get going.”
The puppy hesitated, glancing between them as though weighing his options, before trotting reluctantly back to his owner’s side.
“Well,” Hao said, rising to his feet, brushing invisible dust from his coat, “that was fun.”
“It really was,” Hanbin agreed, inclining his head politely. “Thank you for letting us spend some time with him… sir.”
“The pleasure was mine,” the owner replied. “He doesn’t usually warm up to strangers like that. I suppose today was an exception.” He offered them a small nod. “Take care, the both of you.”
“You as well,” Hao said warmly. “And take good care of him.”
“I will, goodbye.”
They exchanged a final wave before parting ways, Haru casting one last look over his (or what was supposed to be) shoulder as he was led away.
Only once a comfortable distance had formed between them did the two quicken their pace, shoulders brushing as they slipped back into the anonymity of the evening crowd.
"Ahh, Bin-ah!" Slightly flinching, Hanbin’s attention snapped to the older man squealing beside him, failing to restrain his excitement. "He looked like a white cloud, I couldn't even see his legs!"
"Yes Hyung," Hanbin replied, his gaze softening as it settled on his endearing jagi. "Adorable. You think he knows he exists? Those eyes looked devoid of any thoughts."
"Yah! Baobei, don't say that," Hao grumbled, a pout now adorned on his face. "What would Bori and Gwansim think, hearing their oppa speak about another puppy like that?"
"I'm sorry, jagi. I'll reflect on my actions and do better" The younger flashed him a sheepish smile, though the glint in his eyes betrayed any real remorse. He clearly did not mean his apology in the slightest.
"Hmmph!" Hao folded his arms and turned away, though the gesture lacked conviction. "You better. I won't tolerate this kind of attitude towards our Sansan."
"Sansan?" The younger echoed, head tilted to now look at the older in poorly concealed amusement.
"One day, we will have an adorable lap dog and we will name it Sansan." Hao answered earnestly, eyes upturned into little crescents, cheeks faintly flushed beneath the mask. Hanbin felt a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to pull it aside and press kisses to every dotted star-like constellation of moles scattered across his face.
"San, as in the number three?" The younger slipped his arms around the other's waist, the distraction of 'Haru' long forgotten as the two now stood bathing in each other's company.
"Mhm," Hao hummed, resting his head on Hanbin's shoulder, breathing in the familiar blend of their shared Diptyque perfume and something distinctly, uniquely Hanbin.
"But why?"
"Because it sounds like a piece of both our names, baobei."
"Does it?"
"Yes. Stop interrogating me now."
"I wasn't interrogating you." Hanbin defended, a laugh escaping him as he dramatically gestured air quotes around the word 'interrogating'.
"Yes, you were."
"We are having a normal conversation like normal people, jagi."
"Whatever. I want tanghulu." Hao tapped lightly on the younger's chest, swiftly changing the topic as he pulled away just enough to intertwine their fingers together. He tugged them forwards, assumingly in the direction of said sweet treat's shop.
Hanbin chuckled, "Of course, my love. Who am I to deny the princess of her evening indulgence?" His reward was a light jab to his side.
As they made their way down the road to their destination, the younger couldn't help but wonder if he'd see that contentment on the older's face ever again. Though all thoughts faded from his mind the moment Hao turned the corner to their beloved Korean food street.
The saccharine aroma of caramelised sugar and syrup covered fruits drifted towards them, wafting gracefully from the inside and enveloping their senses in a comforting, familiar embrace.
All conversation was forgotten (at least, for Hanbin) as the glossy skewers caught the light like little jewels. Hao wasted no time, already tugging Hanbin closer, eyes bright in a way Hanbin hadn’t seen all evening. Moments later, they stood shoulder to shoulder, sharing a single skewer, the brittle sugar shell cracking delicately beneath their teeth, coating their insides with sticky, crinkly sheets of sweetness. The shared skewer kept being pulled back and forth from their mouths, laughter passing between them as easily as the fruit.
(A bit further away, a fish-shaped pancake stall stood, illuminated beneath soft golden light. And if Hanbin knew anything about the older, that was bound to be their next destination. Alas, Hanbin wouldn't change a thing.)