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You Are Enough

Not anymore.

He was halfway to the hallway when his body stopped — sharp, sudden, like a thought hit him so hard it physically yanked him back.

Food.

He didn't know if Seonghwa had eaten. But something in him already knew.

A memory flashed; Seonghwa refusing the chocolate cake Hongjoong had made for his birthday back in high school, because it was 'too late for sugary foods'. The way he smiled like it didn't ache to say no.

So many little echoes that had built this hollow shape inside him.

Hongjoong turned on his heel.

No hesitation now.

He practically jogged the three blocks to the nearest convenience store, pulse wild and uneven, as if his heart knew it was running out of time to say I care about you, I see you, please just let yourself be human tonight.

The cold lights of the store buzzed overhead as he filled a basket — warm soup in a microwavable cup, Seonghwa's favorite strawberry milk, something sweet and something simple. Nothing too heavy. Nothing that might make him push it away.

Just enough to say, You're allowed to eat. You're allowed to exist.

At the counter, he couldn't help but check the time again. 9:07.

Too late by Seonghwa's rules.

Still just in time by Hongjoong's.

He left the store with a bag full of quiet offerings and a heart beating too loud for his chest.

His boots hit the pavement harder than he meant, but he didn't slow down.

The plastic bag swung at his side, its contents rustling softly — a poor, quiet contrast to the storm in his chest.

And then —
God.
It hit him.

Not the fear, not the urgency — those had been there from the second he saw the clock.

No — this was different. This was shame.

How long had he been looking but not seeing?

How many times had he caught the glimpses?

Seonghwa's forced smiles. The way he picked at his food. The long sleeves in summer. The hollow under his eyes that concealer never quite covered.

And still, Hongjoong had called it being weird.

Had looked away. Had laughed it off like it wasn't breaking someone slowly right in front of him.

You fucking idiot.

He wanted to throw the food. Or scream. Or go back in time and make himself see sooner.

But none of that would help now. All he could do was move.

Faster.

He gripped the bag tighter and pushed himself into a run.

Because it wasn't just about whether Seonghwa ate tonight.

It was about whether Hongjoong showed up.
Finally.

Not to fix him.

Just to be there.

And mean it this time.

The knock was soft, unsure — almost embarrassed to exist.

But it came again. And Seonghwa, ever prompt, ever proper, opened the door like he hadn't been standing behind it with his hand hovering near the knob.