[Part 1: a starlit river, wind whispering into dark strands of hair, and the frightening (read: unfamiliar) concept of a happy ending]
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Waves roll against the wood in a slow rhythm that accompanies the lofi beats in Hoyoung's left ear. Low chatter floods into his other. It's all swept all away when Minchan drags out a long sigh of awe.
He is holding his phone in his hands, capturing the glowing city lights in the river's endlessly deep mirror of the world. Seoul is bright and busy at night, and they have been stuck in traffic for almost an hour on their drive here, nothing new, nothing unexpected; Han River is remarkably solemn in comparison, almost like somebody has placed earmuffs around his head, allowing him to breathe somewhat clean air under a sky that has surrendered its colors to a constant filter of gray.
Hoyoung blames Yeonho for spamming the group chat during his trip in Germany. If it wasn't for the photos taken directly from what looks like a fairy tale forest, shining in such a satiation that Hoyoung had refused to believe for the longest time that they weren't edited, he might have never noticed just how polluted Seoul's atmosphere actually is.
The lanky man blocking the way to the bridge informs them that boarding will start in three minutes. Behind him, the lights of the cruise radiate a soft golden glow.
Minchan huffs and slides his phone back into his back pocket. "Y'know, if this whole thing is like only twenty minutes long, I'm getting a refund. These prices were coming straight from hell's V.I.P corner."
"Is that also where your boss will be in twenty years?"
"If not, somebody is kicking his eighteenth-century ass so hard he'll just ragdoll down." He rolls his eyes.
A little laugh escapes Hoyoung. Imagining Minchan's homophobic and sexist lump of a boss rotting in hell is one thing, but thinking about the way Minchan being the one to put him there is another. "Please, you have no coordination. I'd have to drag you out before you even land the first blow."
"Fair enough." He shrugs, and his dark curls fall into his face. The soft wind picks them up and tucks them back before Hoyoung can. "I'll just animate such a mind-blowing trailer of him in hell that one day some film industry giant picks it up and adapts it into live action."
If he had even half the amount of spite that Hoyoung has, he would actually see this plan through. Hoyoung would be lying if he said he isn't a little bit bummed out about this idea never coming to life.
"I'd watch the crap out of it," he still says, just in case.
A grin splits Minchan's face.
Hoyoung returns it, and it feels earnest in a way that he still finds difficult to accept. Not because he doesn't want to. He isn't even scared, as he might would have been some years ago, if he wasn't so unshakably sure that Minchan couldn't hurt him, or anyone for that matter, if he tried.
It's just a bit unfamiliar, he guesses. A bit unbelievable that he can be happy with someone who is not his reflection in the small bathroom mirror back in his parents' house.
Sometimes, in his coldest winter dreams, he remembers the part of his life when he used to have no one but himself.
It still hurts when he thinks about the bullying. He hasn't seen these people in a long, long while, and yet they still have a ghostly grip on him, haunt his life everywhere he goes.
It hurts when Gyehyeon scoffs at something he says even when he knows Gyehyeon would scoff at literal angels if they flew down to Earth to serenade him in person.
It hurts when Yeonho laughs during the increasingly rare group video calls and Hoyoung doesn't know if it's directed to him or at him.
It still fucking hurts when Dongheon accidentally leaves him on read, when Kangmin doesn't join his table at lunch break, when Yongseung is hesitant to break his strictly planned-out schedule to have a catch-up.
But he also knows it's not their fault his perception of friendship has been so messed up. And in the end, it was them who taught him that the right amount of space is healthy. That physical distance doesn't have to mean that their hearts are losing sight of one another and that, no matter how often Hoyoung catches himself spiraling and doubting, they always find a way to prove his brain wrong.
Of course he's still hurting. He doesn't think this will change.
What has changed, however, is how much he is willing to believe that he can be happy despite it all.
A light tap on his wrist guides him out of his mind. Hoyoung can't help but chuckle at Minchan's shining, hopeful eyes and the questioning tilt of his head.
"Sure," he whispers. And he lets Minchan thread his fingers between his own, just like the others of their group have done at some point.
Minchan does it a lot more often though. He even stopped asking for permission last year after Hoyoung assured him that it was okay. But for some reason Hoyoung can't fathom, he recently has started double-checking again. He doesn't remember any offhand comment he might have made about this. For all the time they have spent together, from their budding friendship back in high school to the ups and downs of their university years, all the way to their cramped and cozy shared apartment now, there are some thought processes that Hoyoung still can't get behind.
It's rather sweet than anything else, though — these little touches and small unspoken words. So he lets him do whatever he believes is right.
A part of him thinks he has always admired Minchan's faith in happy endings.
The lanky man at the bridge steps aside and starts scanning the tickets. The line moves quickly and they're on deck before he knows it: fairy lights are sparkling all around them, looped through the railing. A pair of speakers on each side fill the air with a soft k-rnb playlist and the calmness it sweeps onto him makes him consider putting his own earphone back into his pocket.
As the minutes pass, the more and more people fill the space around them. Only a few have chosen to remain in the restaurant inside and the majority is, understandably so, occupying the benches on deck.
Hoyoung doesn't mind. He meets Minchan's eyes, receives a nod and they head to the bow. They find their place leaning against the railing and facing the course of the river that seems endless in the night.
The waves are murmuring beneath their feet. Hoyoung gives Minchan's hand a soft squeeze.
"You okay?" he asks. Because he can't ask him that enough, Minchan, who swallows his feelings in spilled jokes and only ever gets quiet when there is the noise of water drowning out his thoughts.
Minchan looks at him for a moment, smile slightly faltering as he seems to earnestly think about it. But when it returns, it's brighter than before.
"Yes. I'm awfully okay right now. With this." He squeezes back and gestures vaguely around them with his other hand. Even more vague than usual, which Hoyoung leaves to wonder what he means — the night cruise gently moving through the dim water, the river whispering comfort into him, the absurd amount of money he's paid for both of their tickets on his own free will...or is it Hoyoung himself? Is it them?
'Just. Everything,' Minchan would probably say if Hoyoung asked him to elaborate, because he's stubborn as that. So he doesn't. Instead, he reaches up and tucks a strand of starry-night black hair out of his face before the breeze robs him of his job once more.
It's in the middle of August, and the air conditioning of the car is the sole reason they haven't melted into a puddle yet, even at this late hour. But the water brings peace, and calms both the air in their lungs and their souls. Unfortunately, he now can't make fun of the fleece Minchan is wearing anymore.
He notices the way Minchan's eyes soften at the touch. It's a very, very familiar view and Hoyoung guesses Minchan has seen the exact same expression on his own face at least five times a day for the past while. Usually Hoyoung isn't that readable, with his stoic face that he still hasn't figured out how to make it look like the emotion he is feeling. When he's with Minchan though, he probably does stare with what Gyehyeon never holds back to call disgustingly effective emotion porn.
Hoyoung remembers scoffing at him in disbelief when he first heard him mutter this atrocious combination of letters under his breath. It is only recently when he has started to get what Gyehyeon is trying to say.
Maybe the world does feel a bit less tilted, less crooked when they're together. A bit more like the universe trying to make amends with him.
A bit like healing.
And so what? He is allowed to be happy.
He can be happy.
I can be happy.
"I'm okay too," he breathes. He drops his arm to place it on the railing and grips Minchan's hand a bit tighter. Warmth tickles his palm. The waves roll against the cruise.
Minchan keeps smiling like he has turned the Earth upside down and that made it somehow better and Hoyoung knows he doesn't have to be afraid. Not with him.
Never with him.
*'☆°*
"I'm glad. I..." Minchan stops. His eyes are sparkling under the fairy lights and his shoulders sag down, relaxed for the first time in weeks. When he doesn't continue, he deliberately chooses not to and Hoyoung decides to refrain from trying to press the lingering words out of the air.
Minchan always has his reasons. Some of the reasons turn out to be laughably stupid, but that's for Hoyoung to say after he has confided in him.
Hoyoung nudges his shoulder. "Tell me later?"
Minchan shuts his mouth and nods with such a force that his hair gets all messed up again. He even reaches up to fix it himself, but Hoyoung doesn't let him, no way. He has to laugh again when he pushes his arm away and sees the helpless look on Minchan's face.
"You can't make me jobless." The wind is also working against him, lets the strands escape under his fingers. Only too bad that Hoyoung isn't willing to surrender what lies in his responsibility.
Minchan huffs. "I'm not even paying you for doing this."
"That's for you to feel guilty about, not me. I'm doing this from the goodness of my heart. Charity work, so to speak."
"Look, I know I'm broke. Especially after this luxury purchase. Not that I'm regretting anything, but— " He sighs in exaggerated annoyance. Even rolls his eyes for good measure, and if Hoyoung wasn't all up in his space, he definitely would have dramatically pressed his free hand onto his chest. "That really doesn't mean I can't even afford basic bathroom necessities."
"But you didn't bring your combs with you, did you?" Hoyoung nags in his own mother's voice and Minchan is so familiar with this little game he is about to start that he shuts up before it can escalate. Dongheon would shoot him a relieved glance if he was there. The one and only time when those two are willing to stand on the same side.
Though the silence only lasts for a couple of moments, because the people all suddenly start to rush to one side of the cruise, holding up their phones.
Their cruise passes the tall silhouettes of the business skyscrapers. Any golden gleam that bounces off 63 Building at day has been replaced with tiny spots of light from the windows, little eyes that blink into the distance. The night has drenched the rest of the walls in pitch-black, drawing attention away from them and instead towards the soft midnight blue of the deep, deep sky. Barely visible stars glisten behind the thin but always present wall of pollution and clouds.
Seoul never sleeps. Still, Hoyoung can feel a calm tiredness washing over him. He yawns softly and turns to Minchan to find that he is mirroring the gesture.
Hoyoung doesn't fight the smile.
Perhaps he's been watching him. There is a certain fondness in Minchan's gaze that feels like a gentle tug at his wrist, a warm breath held in the back of his throat.
"Thank you," Hoyoung breathes, for everything and for no reason at all. He slowly puts his hand away, even though his fingers itch to stay buried in Minchan's curls. Curse his weak noodle arms for their unwillingness to cooperate for much longer.
Minchan shakes his head again, undoing all of his work. "Ah, shut it. Thank you." He grins. "I hope one day we'll be stable enough to do this more often. Financially. And mentally."
He tilts his head to the side and presses his lips together in thought. Then he adds, "I'd actually really like that. I'm missing you a bit too much for my taste. I mean — most of the moments we see each other are in the fucking kitchen before and after work, how is that even possible."
"And that's also mainly just because I would burn the whole building down if I went in there alone and you're too kind to make me live off of 1 am chicken deliveries." Hoyoung hums. "Please don't stop doing that, by the way. I'm not complaining. I need the nutrients."
"That's the only reason you're keeping me around, huh."
"Maybe."
"How did you even survive on your own during uni?"
"For the love of god, don't remind me."
Minchan laughs heartily and Hoyoung joins him soon after, albeit a lot quieter and not really above a giggle, because his voice just isn't very loud by any existing standards, but it's okay this way. Their laughs sound nice together. They feel nice together.
An odd feeling of domesticity settles into the air between them, and it doesn't even make sense because they're in a very public space with people who are very much strangers, but since when did they care? Since when did Hoyoung care? He has come to find that nothing in this little world matters quite as much as the light in those eyes of the people he loves and that's a realization that he isn't going to forget for the better part of his life.
And Hoyoung wishes — he wants — he knows — that this won't leave him too soon either. All of this.
Just. Everything.
*'☆°*
He lets out a soft sigh that feels like he's releasing the weight of the world. And maybe he is. Being an adult is nothing like he imagined and exactly what he hoped for at the same time — some weeks are an endless cycle of going through the motions he has carved into his brain, bed, kitchen, work, late dinner and bed again, a programmed, clockwork life; and one some days, doing five steps out are six too much for his shaking soul.
But he doesn't have to do all of this on his own. He has friends. People he never thought would stay with him through it all.
He isn't alone. Never was, since the day he met Minchan behind the old warehouse when they were both fourteen. Since the day they stumbled into their mismatched group of idiots who somehow stuck together despite, despite, despite.
He remembers Eurwangni Beach with warmth in his chest.
There is some meaning in the way his fondest memories of Minchan are connected to the water, and if Hoyoung told him, Yeonho could probably find the perfect song lyrics to hum.
This night, he knows, will become one of these memories, too.
He doesn't have Yeonho's jukebox knowledge though, and he also is absolutely not a Disney princess, so he doesn't start singing right then and there. Instead, he puts the earphones out and back into his pocket, smiles, and loops his arm through Minchan's.
When Minchan looks at him as if he reached into the river and showed him the stars he caught between his fingers, he can't help but feel a bit breathless.
He is okay with it. Very okay.