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Summary
A conversation with a rookie idol sets Kibum down a path of no return—and encourages him to take the next step in his relationship with Minho.
A story about what we owe our younger selves and each other.
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Two opposing things couldn’t both be true. The truth, Minho thought, was singular, immutable. Untouchable and unchanging.
Looking back, he had been so young.
(or my little saga of Minho and Kibum through the years)
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Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s physical therapy appointments overlap, so they go out to eat afterwards. It’s not a date. But they both have something they desire from each other.
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- English
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Bookmarked by aerxplane
22 Jul 2025
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Bookmarker's Notes
“Done?” Seungcheol asks, looking to his physical therapist for mercy. But Eunkyung just laughs and thumps his heaving back.
“Another ten reps,” she says. “Come on, tough guy. You’ve got this.”
“I’m not a tough guy,” Seungcheol whines, but he resumes the single leg squats anyway./
It still hurts sometimes, and the potential for re-injury remains high. Between that and his panic attacks, the military passed him over. He’s still not sure how he feels about that./
Jeonghan is good about managing himself, but it’s a decade-long habit for Seungcheol to at least be aware of the members’ needs./
Jeonghan and his crutches are on the third step now. It’s more than enough for him to look down at Seungcheol disdainfully. “Not that light.”/
So, pride slightly dented, Seungcheol follows Jeonghan./
Jeonghan takes a moment to gather himself, slipping on his stage face,/
Seungcheol corrects himself. “I should probably cut back.”/
Jeonghan sips his moju, considering him over the cup with his eyelids low. He sets it down and swallows before answering. “You look good to me.”
Seungcheol can't help but ask. “You like it?”
“Yeah.” It's just one word, but Jeonghan must think it is too honest because his gaze cuts away, back to his cup. “You seem healthier than you have in a while. It makes you even more handsome.”/
“I could. Seventeen’s Jeonghan can’t.”/
If the baeksuk is even half as good as the appetizers, then Seungcheol understands why Jeonghan insisted on climbing up that damn hill./
The restaurant owner regards him. For some reason, Seungcheol finds himself straightening his posture./
“He’s no granddaughter though.”
“Ah, but he’d be a much better one than me!”/
“Do you really think I'd be better?” he asks./
It's a ridiculous question. But Jeonghan entertains ridiculous questions from the members all the time./
When Jeonghan suddenly shakes his head, Seungcheol first thinks he's irritated at him. He's told Seungcheol to stop staring too many times./
Jeonghan accepts them and examines the cherries closely under the restaurant’s dim lights./
Once the door is closed and the cold evening envelops them, however, Jeonghan reassesses the steep steps. He sighs.
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“You’re back,” he says. It comes out rather bland. A stated fact. A man trying to convince himself he’s still breathing.
Jeonghan’s smile falls. A crease appears between his eyebrows. The same one that Seungcheol used to love smoothing out with the pad of his thumb. “Seungkwannie didn’t tell you?”
(OR: A year after leaving Seungcheol to pick up the pieces of what they could have been, Jeonghan comes home.)
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The evening time still makes Chan think of him. Right before the heat fades to cold. A shooting star in the sky. New calves in the spring with their pretty eyes, looking at him just how Soonyoung used to.
Chan figured that if he ever saw Soonyoung again, it would be far away from here— not behind the counter at his aunt’s bar. That Soonyoung would be doing perfectly fine without him, living like the fire under his ass so desperately begged him to.
But, here Soonyoung is— and Chan can’t do anything other than stand still as he’s mawed from throat to belly, guts spilt on the creaky wooden floor under his boots. Scrambling to hold himself together, picking his heart up from off the floor before Soonyoung can step on it one more time, just for good measure.
(OR: Two years after he broke Chan's heart, Soonyoung comes home.)