1. I love this song by Bruno mars like stop
2. Yes Jay is straight in the beginning of the story but he's literally a kid 🌚
3. I just realized that jungwon is always asking Jay about marriage irl. But in this story Jay is the one obsessed with marriage
4. There will be scenes of sexual content but not actual smut
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I'll go get a ring (let the choir bells sing)
darlingriki
Summary:
In many ways, Jongseong thinks he'd been preparing himself for this moment for his whole life. In other ways, he thinks he was extremely unprepared—not at all expecting the rapid-fire of emotions coursing through him as he sat his boyfriend down on the couch in his parents' living room, right beside their ornate Christmas tree, and knelt down in front of him on one knee.
More simply: Five times Jongseong proposed, plus the one time it finally worked out for him.
Notes:
This can work as a stand-alone fic, but would definitely make more sense and hit a bit differently with the full context of the rest of the series, so I'd recommend reading the rest if you're interested!
Anyway, I've always wanted to write a 5+1 type of fic, and what better way to finally experiment with the format than this, yes? Regardless, hope you all enjoy!
(TW: brief use of homophobic language used as a slur, although between friends with no hard feelings-teenage boy nonsense)
Song Rec
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Work Text:
"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision.
You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.
Because this is what love is." —Louis de Bernières
i.
The very first time Park Jongseong ever proposed marriage, he was four years old, and hardly knew what the word even meant.
His mommy and daddy were married, and so were his Grammy and Gramps. His Auntie Jackie wasn't married yet, and everyone talked about that as if it were a bad thing, or something to be worried about (though Auntie Jackie didn't seem worried at all; if anything, she seemed quite pleased about it any time anyone brought up the concern.)
Saralynn's mommy and daddy were married, too. They lived in the house next door, and had for as long as he'd been born. They were friends with his mom and dad, and Saralynn was his best friend. That meant they played together every day, and shared their snacks, and told each other secrets that no one else could know.
Somewhere along the line, he'd noticed that his parents and his grandparents also did these things with each other, and promptly came to the conclusion that this meant marriage was the ultimate, unbreakable seal of best-friendship. And, therefore, he and Saralynn had better get married quick, because no one else was gonna steal his best friend away from him!
"No, no! This one!" Saralynn whined, pointing to one of the little doll beds that belonged to her Barbie Dream House. Jongseong wordlessly dropped the one he'd picked up and grabbed the other, placing it carefully on the back of his toy pickup truck, running the wheels loudly across the gravel towards the elaborately built toy house on the edge of the driveway.
"The other one's better."
"Nuh-uh, it has blue on it. Barbie's house should be all pink!"
"When we get married and have our own house, we aren't makin' it all pink," Jongseong insisted, scrunching his nose at the thought.
"Married?"
"Yeah. Like our mommy and daddies. Getting married means being best friends forever, and no one else is your best friend."
"Oh," the tiny girl hummed, twisting one of her blonde ringlet curls around her finger as she stared at the dollhouse in thought. "My mommy says you get married when you love someone."
"Well, that doesn't make sense, does it?" Jongseong sat up, hands on his hips, his chin tilted up haughtily. "We love our mom and dad and we can't marry them, can we? See? I'm right."
"No, Jay, it's a different kinda love! Like—like Cinderella and Prince Charming!" Saralynn stood then, stomping her foot, her shiny little black Mary Jane shoes scuffing in the gravel. "Or Aladdin and Princess Jasmine! Ugh, boys."
"Okay, fine, so best friends that love each other so then they kiss. Same thing, I'm still right," he huffed, shoving his truck closer to the dollhouse before taking the little doll bed out and handing it to her.
"Jayyyyy! No! You're supposed to put it there! You're the delivery man!"
"But I don't know where you want it to go!"
"In the bedroom!"
"There's a million rooms!"
"This one!"
He sighed, taking the little plastic bed back and situating it in the section that his friend pointed out, before crossing his arms with a pout.
"There. Are you happy, now?"
Saralynn grinned, her freckles more prominent in the summer sun as her cheeks puffed up with her smile. She took a moment to brush down the front of her dress before leaning over and pressing a quick, fleeting, barely-there peck to Jongseong's cheek.
"Yes. You're the bestest."
"So you'll marry me, then?" He asked, his face warm.
"I dunno. We can't get married 'til we're grown-ups. What if we have other best friends by then?"
"Says who?" Jongseong frowned, irritated at the thought. This was the whole reason they had to get married now—before that happened! Didn't she understand? "No. We gotta marry each other now, so that no one else tries to be our best friend!"
"Well, it's the rules. Daddy says I can't get married 'til I'm thirty-five."
"What!?" he gasped, nearly falling over at the girl's nonchalant shrug. "That's—that's a dumb rule! Ugh. Grown-ups get to do everything right away!"
Saralynn giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. It was a cute sound, squeaky, almost like a mouse toy for a cat. It always made Jongseong's tummy feel funny, fluttery and a little queasy—like when he was watching the best part of a movie, or on the night before Christmas, when he thought he might've heard reindeer hooves clip-clopping on the roof.
"I have an idea," she whispered, peeking over the dollhouse to where their mothers were sitting together on the porch, gossiping over their iced tea as they watched him and Saralynn play. They seemed animated, caught up in an exciting conversation of some sort; Saralynn quickly crouched down, sitting on her knees in front of the toy house to hide herself from their view, gesturing for him to join her.
"What?" he whispered back, wincing at the sight of his friend's white cotton knee-high stockings getting soiled by the gravel and dirt, though she seemed as if she couldn't care less. He quickly made sure he wasn't getting the knees of his pants stained, knowing his own mother would have a cow about it.
"We can practice being married now," she explained, "and then, as soon as we're grown-ups, we can get married for real!"
"How're we supposed to do that?" Jongseong frowned, his head tilting when Saralynn hummed, thinking it over.
"Well...we'll just have to pretend this is our house," she explained, waving over the dollhouse, letting out another tiny giggle when Jongseong wrinkled his nose. "I'll play Barbie, you'll play Ken."
"That's not the same," Jongseong sighed, forgetting about not getting his pants dirty as he plopped down onto his bottom, resting his elbows on his knees and pouting. "That won't stop us from marryin' no one else."
Saralynn nibbled at her fingernails, a habit she always resorted to when she was nervous or thinking heavily, Jongseong had noticed—despite hearing her mother admonish her for it frequently, nagging about the germs and ruining the shape of her nails.
"What if we just pinky-promise, then? That as soon as we're allowed, we'll only marry each other."
"I guess—you ain't ever broken a pinky promise, have you?" Jongseong squinted, a little untrusting.
"Never-ever!"
"Well, alright then," he agreed, scooting closer, enough for their knees to be touching. He reached out his pinky, smiling when the girl intertwined it with hers, giving their hands a little shake for good measure. Then, she kissed his cheek again—a little longer this time, long enough for him to feel that her lips were sticky with some sort of strawberry-candy scent. Jongseong pulled away, his eyes wide as he rubbed at his cheek, watching as his friend's face grew pinker by the second as he looked at her.
"Jongseong! Come along, now—I've got to get supper going, your father will be home soon!"
"Ah, man," he whined, kicking at the gravel as he stood, rushing to pat down his pants, hoping he brushed all the dirt off. He glared when Saralynn laughed at him, twirling the skirt of her dress as she stood, uncaring and unbothered that her stockings were a lost cause.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Jay!" she chirped, bouncing on her toes. "We can finish our house!"
"O-okay."
"Jongseong, now, I said!"
"I'm coming!" he hollered, waving Saralynn goodbye as he hurried over to his mom, taking her hand dutifully as she always insisted, even if they only had to walk a little ways, and didn't even have to cross any streets.
"Park Jongseong—what have I told you about your clothes!"
"...Don't get 'em dirty," he mumbled, huffing when she stopped, patting and swatting at the seat of his pants as well as his knees, grumbling all the while.
"As if I need my child looking like a little street hooligan," she tsked, straightening his shirt before pulling him along once again.
Jongseong rolled his eyes once her back was turned, sticking his tongue out briefly, the tiny act of defiance serving as an easy relief to the four-year-old's embarrassment.
When he and Saralynn were married, their kid would be allowed to get dirt on their pants. Wasn't that what the washing machine was for?
As it would turn out, he would never get around to negotiating that particular part of their hypothetical future marriage—because by the end of the week, Saralynn and her family were moved out, their belongings packed up in trucks to be brought to a new house, in a new town, a new state—way too far away. Just like he'd done for her dollhouse, but much less fun.
They'd hugged goodbye, and Saralynn had cried. Jongseong didn't, at least, not until he was alone in his room later. He was glad for that, because as Saralynn's parents had driven off with the little girl waving at him dejectedly from the window of their SUV, his father had patted his back and told him he was being a strong young man, by not crying. It also felt a little unfair, though, that he wasn't meant to cry—but then, none of them knew about their promise, and their plans to marry each other.
It was his first heartbreak, his first loss in love. And to top it all off, he no longer had a best friend.
That was, until the other Parks moved in next door—just in time for their shy, only son to start Kindergarten with him that fall.
ii.
Valentine's Day was fast approaching, and Jongseong had a very important card to be completing, but there he was during their class free time, explaining the concept of marriage to his (oblivious) best friends instead.
"I don't get the big deal," Jake shrugged him off, busy making various shapes and animals out of his tangram puzzle pieces. "Girls have cooties, anyway."
"No, they don't," Jongseong insisted, a bit red in the face. Sunghoon snickered, sticking his tongue out when Jongseong glared at him instead.
"Girls are very important," he said matter-of-factly, turning his attention back to the colorful paper he was marking out, his third attempt at the handmade card. "They become moms. None of us would be here if it weren't for our moms, you know."
"Moms don't have cooties! Only girls!"
"Moms are girls, Jake!"
"Not the same!"
"Ugh," Jongseong threw his marker down, smacking his palm against his forehead. Sunghoon just laughed again.
"So, then, what—you think you're gonna marry Emma?" he grinned, his canines poking out a little, and Jongseong avoided his teasing by flipping the paper over, starting over again.
"Well, not right now—you can't get married until you're a grown-up, eighteen. So we'll have to wait—," he paused, glancing up as he counted on his fingers. "Eleven years."
Sunghoon's jaw dropped, and Jake snorted, clearly checking out from the conversation. He grabbed another handful of the plastic pieces from the bin, scattering them in front of him and Sunghoon, who only stared at Jay in disbelief—thoroughly distracted by this onslaught of new information.
"That's—that's forever away!"
"But that's fine," Jongseong countered, smiling as he finally finished the heart shape to his liking, nice and even, taking his safety scissors to it and following the line exactly. "That's what getting engaged is for."
"En-gaged?"
"It's like a pinky promise, but better. Official. That you're gonna marry that person, and only them, no one else."
"Ever?"
"Ever-ever," Jongseong echoed Sunghoon, his tongue poking out as he hunched forward, being extra careful to get his letters even-sized and fitting on the cutout.
"But what if you end up like-liking someone else?"
Jongseong frowned at that, staring down at his card in consternation.
"Well—you, you can't!" he stuttered, thrown by his friend's question. "You just—you don't. That's against the rules, once you're engaged!"
"This is confusing. I don't think I'm ever gonna bother," Sunghoon shook his head. Their teacher called for everyone to go back to their desks, and Jongseong groaned, tucking his unfinished card away in his folder and helping his two friends to clean up their mess before heading back to his seat.
Emma was already at her desk beside his own, reading a book. The pony-tailed brunette often chose to read during their morning free time, though sometimes she would color or play one of the games with her friends. And it was impossible to catch her at recess, as she was always deeply enthralled in a serious jump-rope game, or already knee and elbow deep in a game of House—elaborately drawn rooms in different colored chalk taking up large sections of the blacktop, her and her friends always arguing about who had to play the husband because none of the boys ever wanted to join in.
Jongseong had done so once, a few weeks before they'd gone on Thanksgiving break—and he and Emma had spent that recess pretend-married with two daughters, a dog, a cat, a BMW, a yacht, and a mansion. Sunghoon and Jake as well as most of their other friends made fun of him relentlessly for weeks about it, but none of them had seen the sad puppy-dog eyes Emma had when she begged him to play with them that day. The teasing had mostly died out eventually, but Jongseong didn't care either way—because that same day, when they were waiting to be picked up from school, Emma had told him that he was the best pretend-husband ever, and kissed him on the cheek.
So, he might've had a hard time catching her since then, either distracted by his own friends or unable to approach her due to hers, but he had a plan for the Valentine's Day party, and wished the next two days would hurry up and get over with.
"Good morning Jay," she greeted him as he sat, carefully storing her book away in her desk, pulling out her math notebook instead. Jay did the same, his own desk a little less organized than hers, but compared to the other boys, quite tidy.
"Good morning. Are you nervous for the quiz?"
"No. Multiplying and dividing is easy," she said simply, her quiet voice light and airy. Jongseong liked that about Emma, how she was smart, and knew it, but still managed to never sound as if she were bragging. He also liked how prim and put-together she always was, hardly ever raising her voice even at recess, her dresses always pressed and her bow always matching, her shoes never scuffed. She even sat like a little lady, her legs crossed demurely and her posture straight, and always paid polite attention to the teacher, never having gotten in trouble for any sort of disruption or inattentiveness.
And she had the sweetest, dimpled smile. That might've been what Jongseong liked the most—when she smiled at him.
"Yeah, it's not too bad," he agreed, even though he sometimes still had a hard time with division. He didn't want to sound dumb; Emma was the top of their class, and he didn't want her to think any less of him, though he was pretty sure she didn't actually care much about any sort of ranking. To Jongseong, as unbelievable as it sounded, it seemed like she just really, truly liked school, and books, learning in general.
Their teacher began the class, cutting off any further conversation for the time being. Jongseong normally didn't mind school all that much either, unlike most of his friends, and sitting beside Emma made it nice, of course. But that day he was antsy, and impatient, only able to think about Friday. He'd managed to answer correctly when called on, though, thankfully—even if Emma had giggled when he jumped at his name being called.
He ended up finishing the Valentine's card Thursday night, right before bed time, and Friday morning he thought he might throw up, he was so nervous. The party was after lunch, and he barely ate even though it was pizza day. Sunghoon and Jake poked fun at him most of recess for being so jumpy, and he screwed up all of his kicks during kickball—but none of that mattered once they got back to class and set up the paper bags they'd decorated through the week. Jongseong quickly tucked his painstakingly-handmade card into Emma's, once he'd made it down the line—not paying any mind to the giggling girls behind him as he did so.
Emma smiled at him, and his stomach felt twisty even though he hadn't eaten much. He waited until the cupcakes, cookies and juice boxes were handed out and they were allowed to start looking at their cards before tapping his desk-neighbor on her shoulder to grab her attention.
"That one's mine," he pointed out the card he'd given her, confidence coating his voice, despite the butterflies furiously swarming in his belly.
"Oh," she chirped, setting down her cupcake and gingerly picking up the card, chewing at her bottom lip. She read it silently, but that didn't matter—Jongseong had those words memorized, he'd spent so long trying to get them right.
For Emma—
I'm glad we were assigned to sit next to each other. You're very smart, and pretty, too. I think I like you, do you like me? Check yes or no at the bottom and then give it to me. If you check yes, I have a present for you.
From Jay
He nearly choked on his juice as she contemplated for a moment, before discreetly checking one of the boxes, and writing something on the torn piece of paper. She slid it over on his desk, avoiding his eyes, her cheeks red.
Jongseong grabbed it, barely containing his wild grin when he saw that she'd checked yes.
I think I like you too, read my card :)
He did so, and though it was just a cheesy store-bought Disney themed card, he answered it anyway.
"I'll be your Valentine," he nodded, his heart skipping a beat as he pulled the special gift for her out of his pocket, popping the wrapper off before holding it out for her to take.
"Um—a Ring Pop?"
"Right, well—just for now," Jongseong explained, his words beginning to ramble as she stared at him, her pretty blue eyes wide. "Um—I wanted to ask you, I mean—I think we did pretty good, when we were pretend-married—and I guess, well—what I mean is—would you wanna marry me for real?"
She blinked at him, and he swore he heard Sunghoon's irritating snickering a few desks down, but he continued regardless.
"I mean—when we're older, you know, so—so we'd be engaged, for now," he swallowed hard, feeling like his juice and single bite of cupcake was going to come back up if she didn't say something soon.
"Engaged," she sighed, resting her cheek in her hand as she leaned against her desk, slowly taking the candy ring from him. She looked at it for a moment before fitting it to her ring finger, then twisting her hand this way and that.
"Right, so—so we're promised to marry each other, and only each other, forever," he nodded, his foot tapping restlessly.
"Yes—oh, gosh, I can't believe it, I'm engaged! Really engaged," she breathed, her bright giggle pure sunshine, and Jongseong smiled, fidgeting with the candy wrapper as he watched her admire the red and blue swirled rock candy as if it were a 24 carat diamond.
Much to his friends' annoyance, he was occupied at recess at least twice a week from that moment on, dedicated to his duty as pretend-and-future-husband. He and Emma passed notes, careful to never get caught, and he'd even ended up telling his parents about her, randomly and accidentally as he rambled excitedly at dinner one night, but still. That had led to organized play dates, usually at the park, but a few times Emma had come over to his house, her and her parents staying for dinner.
"Forever away" hadn't seemed like a big deal at all—at least until fourth grade started.
Emma had been gone for a good chunk of the end of summer vacation, her and her parents having gone to Florida, not getting back until school was just about to start. Even worse, they weren't in the same class anymore (though he still had Jake and Sunghoon, at least).
All of this might've not spelled the end, had it not been for the sandy-haired boy that apparently sat beside her in her class, now, and had also gone to Florida over the summer—and, much to Jongseong's chagrin, seemed to have a one-up on him, when it came to marriage-related knowledge.
"Well, it's just—I really am sorry, Jay," Emma apologized to him one chilly Autumn afternoon, waiting for their parents to pick them up. "But, well—Austin said that, he really does like me a lot, and, well—I like him, too—I like you, but—maybe I don't, like-like you?"
"But...we're engaged." His voice came out weaker than he'd wanted, barely above a whisper—but his throat was tight, and his chest ached, right in the middle.
It felt like he was going to cry.
"Well, we were, but—but Austin said sometimes people stop being engaged. And married. He said his mom and dad aren't married, anymore—and his mom is married to someone else, now," she ratted off, apparently oblivious to how each of her words served to break his heart just a little more. "So...well...what I mean to ask, is—,"
"You don't wanna be engaged to me, anymore," he finished for her, crossing his arms tight, glaring, if only to fight down the tears he desperately didn't want to spill, at least not until he was alone. Boys shouldn't cry in front of anyone, let alone in front of a girl.
"No. But...but not because you were a bad boyfriend! It's just—well, that was third-grade, you know...,"
"Whatever. The engagement's off," he huffed, kicking at a few rocks on the sidewalk, watching them scatter off onto the pavement. "We can't get married if you like-like someone else."
Emma hemmed and hawed, but eventually just nodded, eager to make her exit when her mom's car pulled up in the drive.
"I'll, well—I'll see you around, Jay," she said, her voice as tiny as the wave she gave him. Jongseong ignored her, refusing to watch them drive away, as if his heart hadn't just been shattered into a million pieces and left for him to sweep up.
His mom had asked him what was the matter, why he was so upset, but he refused to answer, knowing if he spoke about it, he might actually cry. He barely ate dinner, even as his mom nagged him to eat more, and had to claim a stomachache to get away from the table.
The tears fell as soon as he made it to his room, quietly closing his door. He felt stupid, ridiculous, angry—but most of all he was humiliated, and devastated. He just didn't understand. He liked her so much, and thought she liked him just as much—but apparently not, if she could just break their engagement, just like that!
His embarrassment only grew as he cried, and he knew that if Jake or Sunghoon could see him now, they'd never let him live it down. What kind of sissy let a girl make him cry? But, it just wasn't that simple. They wouldn't understand—they didn't know how it felt, to be tossed aside, traded in. Dumped.
His mother figured out what had happened pretty quick, once Jongseong stopped asking to have Emma come over, and started spending more time over at Sunghoon's house instead of wanting to go to the park. She'd brought it up to him one night before bed time, and he'd cried again, just a little—a few tears, a sniffle, but embarrassing nonetheless.
"Oh, Darling," she sighed, lightly scratching at his back when he turned away from her at the first hint of his tears, dutifully hiding his face in his pillow. "It'll be alright. Your heart isn't the first to be broken, and won't be the last. People make it through this all the time, and you will too."
"How can she just change her mind, like that?" he asked, sniffling, wiping his face quickly. "I don't get it."
"Well...sometimes, people just aren't sure about what they feel. Especially at your age, Darling. When you're older, you'll understand a little better—and you'll find the right girl, one day. For now, try not to worry yourself about it, too much. You shouldn't even be so concerned about such things, at your age."
She patted his back, a finality to her words that Jongseong couldn't match—how was he supposed to just forget about it all? When his heart felt like it would never feel the same again?
It might not have been as simple and quick as his mother had made it out to be, but in the end, she was right. By Christmas, he was more concerned with whether or not he and Sunghoon and Jake would all end up getting the same video game system they wanted to be able to play together, and Valentine's Day was more about getting a half a day at school to mess around and eat cookies and candy. By summer vacation, he was busy getting hyped up for a trip to Disney World himself, with Sunghoon—Jake was off to Australia for a month with his parents, to visit family—and ended up spending said trip too enthralled with the magic of it all to be sad about a girl who had given him fake love written on an Aladdin-themed Valentine's card.
He found that card tucked in an old school folder, a couple years later, and threw it into the pile of old papers to be recycled, not feeling much as he looked at it other than mild amusement, and a tiny hint of nostalgia.
iii.
Fourteen hadn't been kind to Jongseong, in many ways—his voice kept cracking, pimples kept appearing no matter how diligently he washed his face, he felt like he could go through a store shelf amount of deodorant and body spray within a couple of weeks, and worst of all: the hormones.
Puberty was a bitch.
"This is it, Hoon. I'm done, giving up. Forever."
"Uh-huh. Whatever."
"I'm serious—I'm never dating again. I'll just die alone."
"Bit dramatic, Bro," Sunghoon rolled his eyes. Jongseong glared, checking that their teacher was busy helping someone with their work before flipping his best friend off.
"You're the worst. So unsupportive. I'm going through it, Hoon—,"
"I'm sorry, do you need a hug? Wanna cry on my shoulder?"
"Fuck off."
"Seriously, man. Come on, how many times have we been here?" Sunghoon laughed, reaching over to shove at him. "You'll get over her in a few months."
"I don't know, Hoon, this time was different," Jongseong sighed, lifting his head from his desk, resting his head in his hand. He looked Sunghoon over, the way the other boy was so at ease, leaning back in his seat with his feet propped up on the empty chair in front of him, tie loosened around his neck, yawning as he looked around the classroom. Jongseong wished he could match that energy, his chest aching, his body feeling tight and stiff from stress and nerves.
Such that came with arriving at school on an already-rough Monday morning, only to have your girlfriend break up with you—and right in front everyone, at that.
"Different how?" Sunghoon scoffed, hitting him with a deadpan look. "How, exactly, was Mina any different from any of the other girls you've been 'in love' with?"
"This was for real! I meant this shit—I gave her a ring, Hoon! A ring!" Jongseong hissed, feeling his face flush, only growing more worked up at the way Sunghoon rolled his eyes again. "Only for her to dump me for some stupid varsity football player!"
"A ring from Walmart's jewelry section. Please," he drawled. "Might as well have given her a plastic toy ring. Something from a Happy Meal might've even been better—,"
"I had to get something quick, and my parents wouldn't let me get something from a jeweler's!"
"Gee, I wonder why, Dumbass."
"Whatever—you don't understand," Jongseong mumbled, digging around in his pencil case as the teacher called for them to get ready for their algebra test. "You've never felt the pain and suffering that being in love brings."
"Yeah. Don't plan to, either."
"Whatever, Asshole, don't come crying to me when the day comes," Jongseong muttered, cursing. "What the hell, where'd all my good pencils go—,"
"Wasn't me. This time."
Jongseong let out a slow sigh, pulling out the remaining stub of a pencil he could find (seriously, his parents were rich, and all, but it wasn't like his friends' families were short on money—why did they always feel the need to use his shit?) and scooting his chair back to go sharpen it. A small, gentle tap on his shoulder stopped him, and he blinked over at the quiet, mousy, bespectacled boy that sat behind him. The boy's name escaped him, never having paid much attention to the kid before, only knowing his nose was always stuck in a book any time Jongseong ever happened to look at him, and he was weirdly serious about his desk organization.
To his surprise, the boy carefully plucked up a couple of freshly-sharpened number 2 pencils from their apparently designated spot on his desk beside his pens and highlighters, only hesitating a second before handing them out to Jongseong. He kept his eyes downcast, partially hidden beneath his messy dark brown hair, anxiously biting at the skin of his bottom lip.
"Oh. Thanks, man," Jongseong smiled, taking the pencils from the boy. The kid nodded, his hair flopping cutely, his shoulders a bit hunched as he kept staring down at his meticulously color-coded notes. Jongseong wasn't sure he'd ever heard the boy speak aside from when a teacher called on him for an answer, which wasn't very often—it seemed even Mr. Evans noticed how shy the kid was, and never seemed too hard-set on challenging that timidness. Perhaps it was because the boy was clearly smart, and didn't need to prove it—he was actually only in the eighth grade, but taking the Freshman's algebra course, because he was too much of a nerd for his own grade's (in Sunghoon's words, that is.)
"You're welcome, Jay," he answered, nearly a whisper. His voice was even gentler than his touch, and his eyes were so big, almost sparkling, when he glanced up at Jongseong from behind his glasses just for a second before staring back down at his desk, pulling out two more pencils from his case and placing them in the empty space.
Jongseong shivered, unsure and a bit freaked out at the random rush of heat that flooded his lower abdomen. God, why would that have to happen right then?
Fucking hormones.
He quickly twisted back around in his seat, forcing his brain to think about something else, anything else—the school's mystery meat taco salad, roadkill, Granny-panties, that one time he'd woken up to hear Sunghoon having a wet dream during their sleepover—
Okay, well, that one wasn't working as well as it really should've; Jongseong groaned at his misfortune, cursing the fit of his uniform pants, wondering if it would be too obvious if he threw his blazer across his lap.
"Ay, you gonna lend me one of those, or what?"
"Get your own damn pencils, Dickwad," Jongseong snapped, shifting in his seat, turning away from the stupid face Sunghoon gave him.
"So much for best friends."
"Yeah, I'm replacing you with Heeseung, he's way better at giving advice."
"Fine, I'm replacing you with Jake, he'd give me his last pencil if I needed it."
"Probably because they aren't even his, he took 'em from me!"
"True, true."
Jongseong shook his head, amused and summarily distracted from his little problem by their timeless bickering. They were both full of shit, and they knew it. With Jake, they were the ultimate trio, and Heeseung was a valuable and wiser older friend, but he and Sunghoon had a bond that couldn't be dismissed. They'd started Kindergarten together, after all—being neighbors, their parents were close; they spent holidays together, their families vacationed together.
Frankly, it was hard for Jongseong to imagine a life without Sunghoon in it.
He hummed under his breath, thinking. He tapped his pencil on the edge of his desk, waiting for Mr. Evans to make it back to their row with the tests.
The thought occurred to him then, and with a smirk, he leaned over.
"Hey, so—if we're both still single when we're, say, thirty—,"
"Don't even finish that senten—,"
"Let's get married, Hoonie—since we aren't best friends, anymore, don't have to worry about ruining that—,"
"Get away from me, quit being a homo."
"Is that a no?"
"It's a 'please shut the fuck up, not in a million years'."
"Rude," Jongseong sighed, cackling when Sunghoon kicked at his calf.
"Enough, boys—the test is starting."
They waited for the teacher to move on after handing them their blank tests before sharing a look, both of them fighting to hold back their laughter.
Laughter that wouldn't stop, later at lunch, as Heeseung regaled to the three of them his tale of the unfortunate basketball incident from his earlier gym class, set with dramatic reenactment and exaggerated reactions. It had distracted Jongseong thoroughly from the familiar warmth of another person missing from his side, all the way until school was over for the day, and he'd caught sight of Mina kissing the new love of her life at the front gates as they were all piling into Heeseung's car to head to the mall.
He wasn't sure he did so well on the test, that day. He wasn't sure how he was going to handle seeing his ex-girlfriend hanging off the arm of the school's most popular varsity player, and he wasn't sure if he would ever muster up the courage or the heart to start dating anyone else. He wasn't sure about a lot of things, at this rough, confusing age of endless uncertainty and indecisiveness.
But he was sure of one thing: no matter how many pieces his heart was broken into, his friends were always there to help him gather them back up.
(He was sure of a couple other things, too, upon returning for his Sophomore year after a too-short summer break—especially when a slim but broad-shouldered, cat-eyed and petal-lipped boy turned around in his seat and leaned onto Jongseong's desk the first day of his algebra II class. His glassesless and perfectly lined-eyes glittered beneath his dark, highlighted, artfully cut and styled curtains of hair as he insisted that Jongseong owed him a couple of pencils. And Jongseong could only stare, long after the other boy turned back around with a dimpled smile and a squeaky, breathy giggle, two of Jongseong's brand-new pencils in hand.)
iv. (?)
Jongseong doesn't remember much about his first house party; most of the things he "remembers" included whatever his friends had decided to fill him in about, or tease him about doing or saying while completely wasted out of his mind.
Therefore, he 'knows' about the disastrous beer pong attempts, the impromptu karaoke that he was surprised hadn't gotten the cops called on them alone, and the results of the chugging competition (he had sorely lost. Heeseung had a year of "party experience" on them, to be fair.) He knew why his mom's favorite potted plant had ended up with vomit in it, he knew how he apparently owed Jake fifty bucks for a bet that no one seemed to be in agreement on the exact details of (wasn't the first, certainly wouldn't be the last.)
There was only one little blind spot of that night—one that it seemed none of his friends had any idea about, only giving him confused stares and tilts of their heads when he mentioned that he thought he'd tried to find Jungwon at one point during the night, and feeling like he'd been forgetting something a bit more important than any of the other things they'd kept discussing.
Even cute but sly little Jungwon, when asked, would only give him a tiny, gentle smile, a shake of his head, and a mumbled "you're better off not knowing, Jongseongie. Trust me."
(Because Jungwon remembered. Jungwon remembered how Jongseong had stumbled into one of the rooms, looking for him, where a small group of his fellow underclassmen had been playing a lackluster game of seven minutes in Heaven, as Jungwon had been nearly falling asleep from half-drunken boredom. Jungwon remembered being part-annoyed and part-relieved that the bottle never seemed to land on him. Jungwon remembered how the bottle had landed on him, after Jongseong had given it a sloppy spin upon one of the giggling girls' insistence, and Jungwon remembered the older boy not hesitating for a second as he pulled Jungwon into the ensuite bathroom.
Jungwon remembered how Jongseong's hands had felt, somehow both rough and soft at the same time as they trailed across his skin, up his waist and over his bare arms, around his neck, tracing his collarbones, tangling into his hair. Jungwon remembered how breathless each touch had left him, nearly panting by the time Jongseong slotted their mouths together, his chapped lips warm and wet against his own. Jungwon remembered the shock, the spark of electricity running down his spine, the tingling in his lips as the older boy kissed and kissed and kissed him, over and over again, as if possessed, as if hungry for it. Jungwon remembered the way he'd kissed back shamelessly, clinging to Jongseong's shoulders, hardly caring about the stale beer and weed breath that Jongseong had, only caring about the way it felt when he carefully urged Jungwon closer, holding him at his hips, and the heat coursing through his veins from the way their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly.
Jungwon remembered staying there, pressed up against the door, kissing his friend for much longer than seven minutes, as no one ever bothered to interrupt them. Jungwon remembered losing track of time altogether, wishing time would stop, wishing the moment would never end.
Jungwon remembered his first kiss, with the very boy he'd been in love with ever since he'd first laid eyes on him the previous year, when so much was so different. When he was so different; the him from last year would never have found himself at Park Jongseong's house party, drinking, playing seven minutes in Heaven, making out with the very host of the party he had a crush on—but life threw curveballs, and things changed. People changed, however good or bad, for better or for worse.
But most of all, Jungwon remembered the clumsy, slurred, mindless words that Jongseong had let slip in between their kissing, quick moments where their lungs decided they did need air after all:
"You're too good at this," Jongseong mumbled, his breath hot as it hit Jungwon's chin. He nudged Jungwon's nose with his own, the action reminding the younger of a kitten, somehow. "Who's been kissin' you, Wonie?"
"N-no one," Jungwon stuttered, licking his puffy lips, holding back from grabbing the older and pulling him back into another kiss, not wanting to seem so eager and needy.
"Mmm, I don't know," Jongseong chuckled, putting Jungwon out of his misery, pressing their lips together again briefly, lightly sucking at Jungwon's bottom lip as he pulled back again. "But you—you feel, so good. Taste so good."
Jungwon shivered, wondering if it was possible for your soul to leave your body without actually dying, when Jongseong nosed down his jaw, to his neck, before sucking at his pulse point.
"Could do this forever, with you, fuck," the older boy groaned, his hands tight around Jungwon's waist. "Would you want that?"
"God, y-yes, oh—," Jungwon inhaled sharply, willing himself to not whine embarrassingly when Jongseong nipped at the skin on his neck, leaving little love bites all the way back up to his jaw, back to his lips. It was less of a kiss, more of them sharing a breath between their mouths, occasionally letting their lips meet with a quiet, wet smack.
"Yeah?" Jongseong had breathed out, right against Jungwon's lips, sounding completely disconnected from reality as he continued his rambling, holding Jungwon tightly against his body with trembling arms. "You'd stay with me like this? Only me? Would you marry me, Wonie, hm?"
Jungwon could swear his brain short-circuited in that moment, unable to come up with any sort of proper response as Jongseong only kissed him again, soft and languid, catching each tiny puff of breath Jungwon let out.
"Let me kiss you like this, every day—hold you close to me, always—,"
"Jongseongie—,"
A desperate pounding on the door had them pulling apart, Jungwon scrambling away from the older's hold, a bit horrified at the idea of being caught like this. Jongseong could hardly stand up straight, his expression dazed, a little mystified, as he held himself up against the wall.
"Whoever's in there, come on, hurry up! I'm gonna piss myself, seriously!"
Jungwon yanked the door open, quick to rush out around the taller upperclassman he couldn't recognize, hurrying out of the now-empty bedroom. He was desperate to gain space, shame and disbelief flooding him now that he was out of the immediate tight grasp of the situation, his trance broken.
He'd spent so long wishing for the confidence and courage to approach Jongseong, to find some way to be his friend, to become the sort of person he could imagine Jongseong falling in love with. To be more outgoing, more fun, more noticeable—and it might've taken some terrible circumstances for him to learn how short life is, how he couldn't waste any more time being timid and afraid, but he'd gotten so far, regardless. He'd come a long way from hiding behind books and eating his lunch alone in the library; he now ate at the same table as some of the most popular, cool sophomores in the school, and was considered their friend.
And while part of him wondered if maybe he'd finally accomplished his goal of making Jongseong see him a bit differently, a bigger part of him wondered if he'd just ruined everything he'd worked for the past year.
He wondered if Jongseong would be annoyed, maybe even disgusted, that Jungwon had let things go so far when the older was so obviously trashed out of his mind—he wondered if Jongseong would be so embarrassed by the words he'd spoken that he'd never be able to look Jungwon in the eye again.
His fears would soon turn to a bitter, painful acceptance, as it became clear in the days following the party that Jongseong barely remembered a single thing from the night, let alone their little bathroom tryst.
So, Jongseong didn't remember—he didn't remember his and Jungwon's actual first kiss, or the half-hearted, lust-driven proposal spurred by said kiss. Even months later, when he finally bucked up the courage and asked Jungwon out, and even when he and Jungwon became exclusive. Even much, much later, when he couldn't help but propose for real—Jongseong never remembered the first time he'd asked Jungwon to marry him.
But Jungwon remembered. And he would never forget it.)
v.
In many ways, Jongseong thinks he'd been preparing himself for this moment for his whole life. In other ways, he thinks he was extremely unprepared—not at all expecting the rapid-fire of emotions coursing through him as he sat his boyfriend down on the couch in his parents' living room, right beside their ornate Christmas tree, and knelt down in front of him on one knee.
The weight of the ring box in his pocket was heavy as he gently took Jungwon's hand in his, resting them on the other's knees before pulling the small black box out, his heart skipping a beat when Jungwon's eyes widened. He'd thought so long about what to say, how to say it—he'd spent so many nights over the past few months poring over the words, writing and rewriting, scrapping and starting over. He'd practiced reciting them any time he was alone, desperate to get each and every inflection right.
But, he hadn't practiced at all what to say if Jungwon said no.
"I'm—what?" he blinked, completely thrown by Jungwon's hurried interruption of an answer to his well-rehearsed speech, tightening his grasp on the box (a proper ring, this time, much more expensive than even Jongseong wanted to admit; only the best cut, color and clarity would've done).
"I, I don't—Jongseongie, please don't take this the wrong way," Jungwon rushed out, quick to take Jongseong's hand again, a tiny whine escaping him when the older pulled away.
"You—you don't want to—you're, you're saying no?"
"Not—not like that, I just mean—not, not right now, I don't think—I don't think we should—,"
"Not right now?" Jongseong scoffed, fully disbelieving. His hands were trembling as he shoved the box back into his pocket, feeling as if the entire world was crumbling down around him.
"I, I mean—we shouldn't rush such a thing—we should wait, you know, maybe—maybe until we're both done with school—,"
"So let's wait," he countered, unable to keep the flash of anger out of his voice, something about this refusal cutting him so deeply, down to his core, in ways he couldn't begin to explain. "Let's wait, then—have a long engagement. What's the issue there?"
Jungwon's nose twitched, and scrunched just a little with the slightest shake of his head, his eyes watery. And that's when Jongseong knew he was fighting a losing battle all along.
"If you don't want to marry me, just say that—,"
"I don't—I mean, that's not—I just don't know if—,"
"What the fuck have the past five years meant to you, huh?" Jongseong spat, standing, his knees weak. "I thought you wanted this—we've talked about this—,"
"I—Jay, I do want—just—in the future, I mean, this is just—too sudden, I can't, I don't know—,"
"If you—if you can't be sure you want to be with me after all this time, what the fuck are we even doing, Jungwon!"
"It's not—not that I don't want to be with you, Jay! I love you—,"
"Doesn't fuckin' feel like it—,"
"Why, just because the idea of getting married makes me nervous?" Jungwon huffed, hugging himself as he stared up at Jongseong, his brow furrowing, frantically picking at a loose thread on his sweater. "Because I don't want us to rush into something as serious as that, and fuck up everything we have?"
"Why is that what you think would even happen? Do you not have any faith at all, don't you trust me?"
"Of course—God, it's not about you, Jongseong!"
"Because I'd—I'd do anything for you," Jongseong continued, waving off Jungwon's attempt at reassurance, too desperate to make the younger understand. "I'd do anything. I'd risk anything, if it meant being with you—my parents nearly disowned me, and even that didn't stop me—,"
"I—I get that, but—,"
"I'd have run away with you, if I had to," Jongseong interrupted, raising his voice, no longer interested in hearing any of Jungwon's excuses, not like this—not when he'd put his entire heart on the line, only for it to get thrown out like trash, once again. "I'd have left everything behind—I'd have taken you anywhere, Wonie, done anything, given up anything, for us—,"
"And that scares me, Jongseong!" Jungwon stood, then, finally meeting Jongseong's energy as his shoulders tightened, his hands curling to fists at his sides. "That's—that fucking terrifies me! How could...how could you be so willing to—throw everything away, everything you've ever known, just for—for someone like me—,"
"You wouldn't?" Jongseong scoffed, flinching outwardly at the pain in his chest; he swore his heart was literally, physically breaking. He'd thought that was only a metaphor, but it felt so real in that moment—he could actually feel the cracks forming, the muscle ripping apart, the cells disintegrating, his blood going solid as concrete. "You wouldn't do the same?"
Jungwon just stared at him, those big eyes wide and brimming with tears, shining with confusion, and maybe a little bit of fear.
"Are you—fucking serious?" Jongseong whispered, ripping his arm away when Jungwon shakily grabbed for him as he stepped back. "What the fuck—do you even love me, Jungwon? Seriously, have you ever loved me—,"
"Don't you dare," Jungwon spat, his voice trembling. His cheeks were steadily turning red, those tears beginning to slowly trickle as they gathered along his lash line. "Don't you dare—I fucking loved you before you even knew my Goddamn name!"
Jongseong shook his head roughly, his arms crossed tight as he turned away from the younger, desperate not to let him see the way his own tears were building up in his eyes.
"You say—but you clearly don't love me the way I love you," he huffed, swallowing hard as his voice cracked. "You can't, not if you don't understand."
"I—I do, but—Jongseongie, don't you see how...how dangerous, that could be? How unsafe it is, for us to put so much on each other, like this? I never—never said anything about it, before, because I just...I was too—but—but Jay, I shouldn't be the only thing you care about, the only person you fully trust—I shouldn't be on some, some pedestal, for you—,"
"Are you seriously hearing yourself—,"
"Yes! And I wish you'd—take me seriously!" Jungwon raised his voice louder, causing Jongseong to jump in place, his spine stiff. "Can't you just—fucking look at me, Jongseong, I'm trying to explain to you what I feel —,"
"How you don't feel the same way I do? Yeah, I think I fucking get it, Jungwon."
"No. How it fucking scares me how willing you are to lose yourself in me," the younger forced out, his words short and shaky, and Jongseong rubbed at his face, smearing the few stray tears in his eyes as he listened to Jungwon sniffling. "How it would be—so easy, for you to destroy yourself, for me. God, don't you—can't you see how—how crazy—,"
"I'm crazy, now, because I love you more than anything in the world? Because I love you so much I'd do anything to be with you?"
"I love you, too, Jongseongie—more than anything—and that, that's why I'm telling you this," Jungwon sighed, and Jongseong glanced back, watching the boy sink back down onto the couch, hiding his face in his hands. "That's why I'm saying this."
"You're telling me you won't marry me, because you love me?"
"...Yes."
Jongseong threw his hands up, groaning as he ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. None of this felt real; it felt like an out of body experience, something he was merely witnessing, not actually living, his body light and his joints feeling like jelly, his brain full of static.
"I'm—I won't marry you, not if—if this is what it means for you," Jungwon continued, either uncaring or completely unaware as to how little sense any of his words made to Jongseong in that moment. "I won't marry you if it means—means you giving up yourself. If it means nothing else matters to you. If you can't understand why that scares me."
"I don't. I don't understand, Jungwon," he said simply, all the fight gone from his body at Jungwon's insistent spiel, a dreadful numbness filling his veins even as Jungwon looked up at him, his eyes pleading. "I don't. And I don't think I ever will."
"Jay—,"
"Get out." Jongseong nodded towards the door, his voice even as he avoided Jungwon's wide-eyed stare. "Get out. Leave."
"Jongseong—,"
"Go on, leave. We're done."
"Jongseongie—,"
"We're done. I'll—I'll round up whatever stuff of yours I have and bring it to you later—I can't—God, I can't fucking look at you right now, so would you just—leave—,"
He felt Jungwon's soft touch on his shoulder as he hunched into himself, hiding his face, his chest burning from the fight to keep himself from outright sobbing, his breaths painfully hitching in his throat from the effort. He shrugged the other's hand off, horribly conflicted when he heard the little whined sob Jungwon let out.
"I love you, I do," Jungwon breathed out, his words only stabbing Jongseong more. "I love you so much—I wish, I wish you could see—Jongseongie, I love you."
"Just go."
"I didn't want this to happen, I don't—I don't want to leave you, like this—,"
"Just leave—what the fuck does it matter. You've hurt me enough. Just go."
Jungwon didn't say anything else, but Jongseong could hear the way his breathing became short and stuttered as he grabbed his coat and pulled his boots on, shutting the front door quietly behind him. He let out a heavy breath, shuffling back over to the couch and sitting down with still-shaky legs, reaching back into his pocket to pull out the ring he'd spent so long agonizing over choosing, popping the box open and staring at it, unblinking.
And that was when Jongseong finally allowed himself to really cry.
He cried, hard and heavy, to the point of pain. Pain in his head, his chest, his throat from the roughness of his sobbing. He cried and cried there on his parents' couch, the past five years he'd spent with Jungwon swirling endlessly in his mind. He cried in a way he never, ever let himself do so before, and certainly never in front of anyone, but this time he couldn't help it. And he couldn't help the way he desperately dug out his phone, pressing the speed dial that had been programmed ever since he'd gotten his very first cell phone, holding it up and praying for an answer despite the shameful state of his emotions.
"Jay?" Sunghoon croaked out, sounding nearly as rough as he did himself, his voice scratchy and thin over the phone. "What's up, why're you calling—,"
"Hoon," he whined, too deep in his despair to feel embarrassed about the way he sounded. "Sunghoon, I don't—I don't know—I can't—,"
"God, Jay, what the hell—what's going on?"
"I—me and Jungwon broke up," he choked, only just barely breathing through his sobbing. "I can't—Hoon, what—what the fuck do I do, how, how do I—,"
"Fuck. God, fuck, Jay, what? Wait, hold on—,"
"I don't—know how to do this, I don't know how to handle—Sunghoon, how do I do this?"
"What the hell happened?" Sunghoon rasped, and Jongseong could only keep crying, unable and unwilling to go into the gritty details. "Fucking hell. Jay, I don't...I don't know...what to...,"
"God, is this—how you felt—all this time?" Jongseong asked, not even sure he was making sense, too frazzled, nearly gasping for air in between sobs. "With Sunoo—is this how you felt? Fuck, I'm—sorry—if this is how you've felt—,"
"...Yeah. That's how it feels," Sunghoon said, his voice quiet. "But Jay, you and Jungwon—you couldn't, couldn't possibly—what the hell could've happened, for you two—this just doesn't make sense...,"
Jongseong just whimpered, desperately trying to calm himself, doing his best to breathe through his sudden panic. He listened to Sunghoon as the other started to ramble, a bit pointlessly, as he came back to himself, back to the moment. He listened until he could finally breathe normally, and the last of his tears had fallen, wiping them with his sleeve. He leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes and listening to his slightly-estranged best friend tell a few stupid stories from one of the parties he'd gone to recently. He listened until he felt like he could speak normally again, like his heart hadn't been completely torn apart and shredded finely, the pieces left like dead, dried leaves sitting heavy in his chest.
"Thank you. I'm sorry, for. Calling, like this," he mumbled, blinking up at the star on top of the Christmas tree, feeling like its brightness and symbolizing of hope was mocking him cruelly.
"...It's fine, Jay. I'm sorry. Whatever happened...I'm sorry. It's gonna be alright," Sunghoon hummed, not quite managing to sound believable—not the way he was, now. The way he'd been for a while, without anyone bothering to intervene for so long, no one to keep him from reaching a rock bottom that Jongseong desperately hoped wouldn't come.
"Yeah. We're—we're gonna...be alright, aren't we, Hoonie?"
"Yeah. Yeah, Jong-saeng. We'll...we'll be alright."
Jongseong chewed at his bottom lip, combing his fingers through his hair, staying on the phone despite neither of them saying anything else, or having anything else to say. If he closed his eyes and pretended hard enough, he could almost imagine that Sunghoon was sitting beside him, simply existing alongside him, close enough for him to reach out and hold.
He listened to his best friend breathing softly, humming under his breath, shuffling around as he did whatever, wherever he was, and waited for his parents to get home, not looking forward to having to give them the news—and he hoped nothing would ever feel as terrible as it did, right then, with everything falling apart and so painfully out of his reach.
+1
By all accounts, it was a perfect night.
Perfect weather for an August evening, warm enough to be outside comfortably, but not too humid or stuffy, with a cool breeze gently ruffling the tablecloth. Perfect food, worth the slightly-long wait; perfect wine, worth the cost for a whole bottle. A perfect setting: just the two of them, sitting at a small table in the back corner of the restaurant's outdoor patio, the decorative string lights and artificial candlelight casting a warm, amber glow over them.
Jungwon was perfect. From his perfectly styled, wavy dark hair, his set of piercings that he took time picking out to best match his outfit, to his soft, cream-colored cardigan and dark slacks carefully covered by the cloth their silverware came wrapped in, all the way down to his deliberate, gentle mannerisms. He'd taken the glass of wine Jongseong poured for him with a quiet thanks, setting it just off to the side, not in the way of his placements for his fork and spoon; he ate methodically, starting with one portion of his meal and working his way around the plate, careful to not let any of it mix together. His bites were small, controlled, and he chewed slowly and thoroughly before going for another—and if Jongseong paid enough attention (he did; he always did) he could recognize the pattern.
He sat upright, he kept his elbows off the table, he never spoke as he ate, even covering his mouth as he chewed even if he was just making an affirmative or questioning sound at whatever Jongseong was saying. He sipped his wine slow and purposefully, the way a good wine should be enjoyed. He kept his voice down, despite there being no one else out there with them—something Jongseong had been adamant about, when he'd booked their table for the night. It might've been too much, but the night had to be perfect. He couldn't put a price tag on it.
Because Jungwon was perfect, even if he didn't see it. Even if he looked at himself and could only see a list of imperfections, impurities to do his best to correct, in his appearance, his behavior, his actions. Even if he told Jongseong time and time again there was no such thing as perfection, that people were ever-changing, ever-growing, that there were always improvements to be made in one's self and in the world.
Jongseong would smile and nod, and agree. But then he would look at Jungwon, and watch him as he sorted through his laundry and organized his closet by color and pattern, watch him mindlessly straighten picture frames and objects on their tables, watch him check and double check and triple check the locks on the door and windows at night. He'd look at Jungwon, as he folded his napkin evenly in his lap, straightened out the tablecloth and his silverware, and picked bits of loose lint from his sleeves. And all Jongseong could ever think was that Jungwon was wrong, as unbelievable as that could sound—because he just couldn't see himself the way Jongseong did.
Sometimes, he wondered how Jungwon could possibly love him, let alone anywhere near as much as he loved Jungwon. He would find himself thinking a bit too hard about it, nearly managing to convince himself yet again that it simply wasn't possible.
But then, Jungwon would look at him, and Jongseong could see it so clearly. He could see the way the stress would seem to physically fall off of the younger, his shoulders dropping, his tense expression softening, the stress lines and tight muscles of his face relaxing as he'd give Jongseong the prettiest, warmest smile. His eyes would shine, and his smaller, gentle hands would reach out to hold Jongseong's, or rest against his shoulder, or wrap around him in a hug, or cradle his face for a kiss—and Jongseong would know, once again, so thoroughly, just how much Jungwon loved him, too.
"Thank you, for this—it's so nice, tonight," Jungwon spoke softly, bringing Jongseong back out of his rambling thoughts, gently nudging Jongseong's ankle with his foot beneath the table.
"Yeah, it really is," he agreed, swallowing thickly as he met Jungwon's eyes, his heart jumping at the way the soft lighting hit the younger's face, making his eyes seem even brighter. "Perfect night."
Yet, even with everything as perfect as he could have possibly needed and wanted, he still couldn't muster up the courage to do what he'd brought them here to do.
"I'm glad. We needed it, I think," Jungwon hummed, carefully setting his empty plate to the edge of the table, folding up his napkin and placing it on the dish before taking a tiny sip of his wine. "A night together, like this. Peaceful. Before the next semester starts, and we get too busy...,"
"Right. Busy."
"Your last year, though," Jungwon blinked up at him, his smile a bit impish. "Got your whole rest of your life figured out, yet, Almost-Grad?"
"Hah. Yeah, right...," Jongseong chuckled nervously, that damn black box burning a hole in his pocket.
Jungwon raised a brow, crossing his arms lightly. "Are you alright? You don't look so well."
"I'm fine, I'm—just fine—,"
"Is the food not sitting right, or something?"
"No, no, it was good—,"
"You just look, a bit like—you're gonna get sick—,"
"I'm fine, I said," Jongseong bit out, wincing at the tone of his own voice, belatedly realizing how harsh it sounded.
Jungwon tilted his head, looked him over for a moment, then sucked in a rough, deep breath.
"It's Sunghoon, isn't it," he mumbled, his deduction confusing Jongseong just enough to take the edge off his reaction.
"Uh...,"
"I get it," Jungwon sighed, his eyes falling to the table, his arms tightening around himself as he slowly rocked back and forth, just slightly, in his seat. "I—I'm worried about him, too, you know. It's...it's scary. Seeing him, going through something—like this. But...he's getting help, now. And he has us, and his parents, now, so...so he's gonna be alright."
He frowned, picking mindlessly at the threads on his sleeves, a far-away look in his eyes as he kept his gaze on the table.
"He's gonna be alright," he repeated, seemingly to himself. Jongseong let out a soft breath, reaching out across the table, giving Jungwon what he hoped was an understanding but reassuring smile as the younger took his hand.
"He will. He'll be alright. He'll get better. We'll be there for him," he nodded, brushing this thumb across Jungwon's knuckles.
"We have to," Jungwon said, his voice wobbling, and when he looked up, his eyes were watery. Jongseong cooed softly under his breath, squeezing his hand a bit tighter.
"We will, Love. He'll get through this."
"He has to. I don't...I don't wanna...don't want—don't want to lose him, to something, like this—I don't want, something...like that to—to happen, again—,"
"It won't, Jungwon. That won't happen. That was so different, Love—there wasn't anything you could've done, the way things were—with your families, and...the drama there—you couldn't have known better, and—everything about the situation, just...wasn't in your favor. Or hers. I'm so sorry, Wonie—I'm sorry this is reminding you, of that—,"
"I don't want to—I just—," Jungwon cut in, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I need things, to—be better. Between Sunghoon, and work, and—Sunoo, Riki—,"
"You haven't heard from them, then?" Jongseong cringed as he asked, feeling the redundancy even before Jungwon glared at him.
"No. Neither of them will answer me."
"Sunghoon said...it was pretty bad. That Sunoo was pretty shaken up...,"
"It's been two months, couldn't he just—I just—," Jungwon huffed, his hand shaking as he took another shaky drink. "I just wish he'd tell me how they're doing. He knows I worry."
"He will, Love. I'm sure he will."
"Yeah. He will." Jungwon leaned back, looking up and around them at the lights strung around the patio, avoiding Jongseong's stare. "Eventually."
"If he doesn't, then...we could maybe...try to visit?" Jongseong offered, doing his best to keep his expression neutral when Jungwon looked back at him with raised brows. "We haven't been down there for a while, anyway...it'd be nice, y'know, to go again. See the beach...,"
"...Uh-huh."
"Maybe. Maybe, like...in the spring."
"...Right. Sure. That would be nice."
Jongseong rolled his tongue against his cheek, tapped the edge of the table, and tried to keep his restless legs still.
"I could use a beach day," Jungwon continued, apparently uncharacteristically oblivious to Jongseong's distress. "A bit of a tan, maybe. I feel like we didn't get to do much, this summer—this stupid internship, I swear—,"
He rambled on, quickly jumping topics, and Jongseong just listened. He could listen to Jungwon talk forever—his smooth, even timbre, his small, barely-there lisp, his tiny noises, little squeaks and huffs if he really got going excitedly about something. Everything about his voice was so soothing, and Jongseong had to fight to keep from closing his eyes and getting lost in it, though he so wanted to, because he didn't want Jungwon to think he wasn't listening. He was always listening.
"—and I just don't know how some people do it, having kids, too—I'm so tired, anymore—so tired. I swear, these circles under my eyes are terrible—God, I wish school didn't have to start, I don't know how I'm gonna get through this semester—,"
"You will, Love. You'll do just fine."
Jungwon hummed, thanking him briefly, throwing him a smile. Jongseong watched him sip his wine, and followed his example, realizing he'd barely touched his own—he was already so anxious his stomach was twisting, and he didn't want to make that worse. Then again, maybe a little liquid courage wouldn't hurt.
Because it was all right there, at the front of his mind, on the tip of his tongue. He'd written it out, he'd practiced, and he'd prepared himself, this time, for either answer he could receive. It was all there, all he had to do was say it. And yet, as Jungwon stared at him, his eyes crinkling a bit at the corners with his smile when Jongseong fumbled with his glass, all he could manage to say was—
"I love you. So much."
The younger's smile softened, and he reached over, taking Jongseong's wrist in his hand, holding it down gently against the table before linking their fingers.
"I love you too, Jongseongie. More than you know."
Jongseong swallowed hard, shifting forward in his seat, digging into his pocket and holding onto that small box for dear life.
"I'd—like to know," he said, watching Jungwon's face closely, continuing despite the way the younger's eyes widened. "I'd like to. And I'd...like you to know, too—how much I love you. I'd...I'd like to show you. No matter how much time it would take—,"
"Jongseongie—,"
"I'd spend however much time you're willing to give me, to show you," he breathed, squeezing Jungwon's hand. "Whether it's a couple years, or the rest of my life."
"You think it'd take that long?" Jungwon teased, his voice light, but Jongseong could see the seriousness, the apprehension behind his words.
"No, probably not." He breathed in deep, steadying his nerves as the entirety of his perfectly planned speech was completely thrown out by his brain, autopilot taking over instead, the words spilling out of his mouth unexamined and unfiltered. "I know you—you don't like—me talking about forever. I know it makes you nervous, I know it scares you. I know you get caught up in all the what-ifs, the uncertainties, and I know you don't like change happening, unless it's completely on your terms—,"
"Jay, I don't—,"
"Just—just listen, please," Jongseong whispered, keeping his gaze steady despite the tears in Jungwon's eyes as he nodded.
"I told you, after our—fight. I told you I understood where you were coming from, and I do, Wonie. I really do. And I wasn't lying when I told you I agree with you, now. You made me realize how—how stuck I was, in this...this black-or-white way of thinking. And I—I can't promise you I'll always be better, do the right thing, react the right way, or how you want me to, but—but I can promise you that anything I say or do with you is the honest truth of how I feel. I can promise you I'll never lie to you, never take you for granted. I can promise I'll always listen to you, always let you know if your outfit doesn't match the season trend, always tuck the tags into the back of your collar, always keep enough sugar close by, for you, when I make coffee.
I'll always hold your hand when you want me to, and I'll never let go of a hug first. I promise I'll never get mad at you for organizing and rearranging things how you feel they need to be, and I'll always let you write out the grocery list even if it's a waste of paper. I can promise to always do my half of the chores good enough that you don't have to follow behind me to clean, especially after cooking. I can promise to not get impatient when you take a little too long to get ready because none of your clothes feel right against your skin that day, or you can't get your hair to lay just the way you want it to.
I can—I can promise you, I'll never, ever let a day go by where you feel like there's a possibility that I don't love you," Jongseong paused, swallowing around the lump in his throat, focusing on the feeling of their pulses bounding together where their hands were clasped tightly, practically in time. "Because I'll love you forever, Jungwonie, for however long forever lasts. If you'll let me."
He glanced up, not sure whether to feel relieved or heartbroken at the silent tears streaming down Jungwon's cheeks as the younger rested his chin in his palm, biting at the skin around his fingernails. His eyes were closed, and Jongseong could feel the way his leg was shaking the table slightly.
"I don't want to give up myself, for you—for us. That's not what I want. I don't want to...love you like a fire, Jungwon. I don't want us to burn bright for a moment, and fizzle out into ash. I don't want to burn down everything around us. I don't want to love you like that. I want to love you, like—like the sea. I want to love you across every continent, every shore, endless and...and unfathomably deep. I want our love to ebb and flow, like that—shaping each other, timeless, and adamant. No matter how high and rough the waves might get, or how far away and daunting the horizon seems. I want to love you through it all, just like the water never stops coming back to kiss the shore."
Jongseong glanced up at the sky, wishing for strength and composure on the few stars visible through the light pollution, and pulled the small ring box from his pocket. He let go of Jungwon's shaking hand only to gently rest the box in his palm, then curled his fingers down around it as he wrapped both of his hands around Jungwon's fist.
"You can say no," he whispered, biting at his lip at the choked-up noise Jungwon let out as he took a shuddered breath. "You can say no, and that's okay, I won't be mad. I'll take the ring back, or sell it, use the money towards getting us a nice vacation for Spring Break. But—but if you say yes, I can also promise you one more thing."
Jungwon finally looked at him again, his teary eyes sparkling so beautifully in the gentle light.
"If—if you say yes, I can promise you, I'll never, ever make you regret it. Ever. No matter what, Wonie. I'll never make you wish you'd said no, instead."
"Jongseongie— oh. Oh, Jay," his voice cracked, and he wiped his tears quickly, though more just formed along his bottom lashes. He looked down at their hands, his fist tightening around the box, then looked out around them, before looking back at Jongseong, a bit bewildered.
"I told you before, Jungwonie, you're...my lifeline. So no matter what your answer is, I'll be here. Just like the sea."
He lightly tapped Jungwon's fist, and the younger relaxed his fingers, allowing Jongseong to flip the lid of the box open before softly pushing Jungwon's hand towards him.
"So, then, I'll ask you, Jungwonie—will you come with me to the water, and marry me?"
There was a beat of silence; he could hear people inside the packed restaurant chattering away, laughing with each other, as if his world wasn't about to be changed irrevocably with a simple one-word answer. He could hear the stream of the river bubbling behind them, the traffic of the highway in the distance, the short, stilted breaths Jungwon took, and his own heart beating frantically.
Feeling his pulse bounding against his skin, he watched Jungwon pull out the ring, taking time to twist it back and forth in the candlelight. The jeweler had—ironically, and aptly—named it Secret Garden, and Jongseong had nearly been sold on the name alone. Thin strands of diamonds wrapped around and twisted up the sides like vines, leading to the large marquise cut in the center, tinier stones added along the sides like tiny leaves.
It had a whimsical quality about it, and Jongseong couldn't stop going back to it, despite the other flashier, perhaps more appropriate, more modern and sleek designs. For some reason, that ring was the only one he could truly imagine seeing on Jungwon's finger.
And he thinks he could've possibly died right there and then, when Jungwon made that image come to life as he slipped the ring on with the most beautiful words Jongseong had ever heard pass his lips.
"...I'd...come with you anywhere, Jongseongie. To marry you."
"You—really?" He nearly choked on his own spit as he finally breathed, leaning forward over the table and reaching for Jungwon's hands. He could hardly believe the sight of that ring in place, the way it felt now to run his thumb across Jungwon's fingers on that hand, the way his heart felt so full it could burst. "You're—you're really—saying yes?"
"Yes, Jongseongie," Jungwon giggled tearfully, taking Jongseong's shaking hands and locking their fingers together again, gently rocking them side to side on the table. "Yes. I'll marry you."
"God," Jongseong exhaled, his whole body feeling like a rubber band that had just snapped, almost collapsing onto the table. "God, Jungwonie—,"
"Don't go having a heart attack before we even make it to the altar."
"I think—I'm having—an out of body experience," he mumbled, pulling his hands free to hold the edges of the table, blinking the stray tears from his eyes. "I think—my soul—is trying to leave my body—,"
"And everyone says I'm the dramatic one."
"Oh God, holy shit, I can't breathe—the world is spinning—,"
"Alright, come on, Darling, this is flattering and all, but please get it together a little, people are starting to look out here—,"
"Wonie, Love. If I die. Please—write something poetic on my gravestone—,"
"We've been engaged for three minutes, and I'm already starting to understand why divorce rates are so high."
"You—you can't divorce me! We haven't even gotten married yet!"
Jungwon rolled his eyes with a small giggle as he stood up, walking around the table to Jongseong, tugging at his arm to get him to stand up. He did, only to pull Jungwon towards him, cradling the younger's face in his hands as he kissed him, a small shiver coursing through him at how eagerly Jungwon reciprocated, throwing his arms around Jongseong's neck and holding him closer.
He breathed against Jungwon's lips as they separated, trying and failing to come up with any words. Jungwon just smiled, though, so soft and knowing—and suddenly, Jongseong felt there was no need for them. And as he stared into the younger's eyes, both of them comfortable in the understanding silence between them, he was hit with a revelation, a distinct feeling settling in his gut before kissing him again, slow and affirming.
This wasn't the happy ending. This wasn't the goal post. This wasn't the moment he'd been waiting for, for so long.
No; this was just the beginning of it all. They had a whole journey ahead of them, a lifetime's worth of moments to experience together, and Jongseong wanted to take in every single second of it.
"Come on, Fiancé. Let's go give the waiter our check so we can get out of here and have newly-engaged-to-be-married sex."
"...Right. On it, Love."
💍
Notes:
they had me flailing with this one yall ngl
Anyways, on a scale of one to ten how obvious is it that I've had this fic sitting in the drafts since Valentine's Day lmao
Hope you all enjoyed though, I appreciate everyone reading and all comments <3