Chapter Text
Jay didn't text him that night. Or the next day. It felt liberating in a way: he had been right all along. He didn't fit into Jay's life. His trickled along, like barely any water in a river bed, emptied by drought.
School began and the routine was good. Grounding. Jungwon looked at his students sometimes, happy and chatty, gathering in groups like wolves or worse, the prey, waiting to be devoured in one way or another. They had dreams, ambitions so big, they'd turn sour, and later into desolation like creeping dread. Some were in love. Others searched for it.
Some would leave, just like Jay, and others would stay behind, waiting. And waiting.
Jay texted him two weeks later.
The message came in on a Tuesday afternoon, right as Jungwon was erasing the board.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Once. Then stopped.
He ignored it. Finished writing the assignment. Let the students pack up, the room filling with noise, chairs scraping, laughter, and complaints about deadlines. He stood there longer than necessary, marker cap rolling between his fingers.
Only when the classroom was empty did he take his phone out.
Jay:
Hey.
That was it.
No explanation. No apology. No punctuation that suggested urgency or care. Just hey, like they'd last spoken yesterday, like nothing had been left hanging and he hadn't been waiting.
Jungwon stared at the screen until it dimmed.
Two weeks, he thought.
Two weeks and this was all he got. Perhaps his mother had been right: he was none the wiser. Just older.
He slid the phone back into his pocket, heart doing that familiar, stupid thing, tightening first, then sinking. He gathered his bag, turned off the lights, and locked the door behind him.
Outside, the hallway smelled like cleaning solution and wet coats. He walked slowly, the message burning a hole in his awareness.
Hey.
He didn't answer right away. He told himself he didn't have to. That he could let it sit, let Jay feel even a fraction of the uncertainty he'd lived with his whole life. But Jay had his busy life, his friends, and his corporate job, the message had been a drop in an ocean to him: it did not even stir the waters.
But later, at home, shoes kicked off, dinner half-eaten, the silence settling in, he picked up the phone again.
The message was still there.
He typed, deleted, typed again.
Jungwon:
Hi.
He set the phone down and went to wash the dishes, water running too hot over his hands.
When he came back, there was another message.
Jay: sorry I disappeared. I didn't know how to say anything without fucking it up.
Jungwon closed his eyes.
There it was. Not an excuse. Not nothing either. Something in between, Jay's favorite place to live.
He didn't reply yet. He sat on the edge of the couch, phone warm in his palm, chest tight but he felt no excitement. Just like an afterthought.
Jungwon: you almost fucked it up
Jay: I know
Jay: I have an idea
Jungwon: Please don't
Jay: You have some other vacation, right?
Jungwon: In one month
Jungwon: why?
Jay: Roadtrip?
Jungwon: Where?
Jay: To visit me? Spend the week
Jay: I'll be working but we can hang out after
Jay: It's an excellent plan
Jungwon stared at the screen rereading the words until they made no sense.
Of course he did.
Of course, Jay's big idea was this.
He could already feel it, the pull, the old reflex to say yes before thinking, before protecting himself. A week in Jay's life. Jay's city. A week to see him, truly him, in the new life he had created, to get a glimpse of all the things he couldn't understand, all the things and people that wouldn't make space for him to fit. He'd be a Tetris piece, hanging in a false equilibrium, squished in an odd position over other pieces.
He typed slowly.
Jungwon: You vanished for two weeks and now you want me to come visit you.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Jay: When you put it like that, it sounds bad.
Jungwon: Because it is bad
Jay: Okay, correction. It's impulsive. Questionable. Possibly a terrible idea.
Jungwon: You're not selling it
Jay: But you're still reading.
Jungwon huffed a quiet laugh despite himself and leaned back against the couch, phone resting on his chest.
Jungwon: What happens after the week?
The dots stayed there longer this time.
Jay: I don't know. But I don't want to pretend I don't want to see you.
There it was again. That openness. That awful, dangerous honesty.
Jungwon closed his eyes.
Jungwon: You're really good at doing things halfway
Jay: I know. But I'm trying… something.
Silence stretched. The apartment felt too quiet, the kind that made thoughts echo.
Jungwon: I'll think about it
Almost immediately:
Jay: I'll take that as a soft yes.
Jungwon: Don't
Jay: Too late.
Jungwon shook his head, a smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. He set the phone down, stared at the ceiling. Weeks passed, faster than he would have liked them to, and there was no going back. They didn't really text, but Jay made sure he'd come.
He packed his stuff, more than he needed for a week, and took the first bus into the big unknown. His stomach grumbled; the seat stank and the air was stuffy. He threw up in a sandwich bag.
The bus lurched forward anyway, like it didn't care.
Jungwon wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, hands shaking as he knotted the sandwich bag and shoved it deep into his backpack. The plastic crinkled too loudly. He could feel people shifting around him, smell cheap deodorant and cold fabric, and something fried that had soaked into the seats years ago and never left.
His stomach cramped again, a dull, sour knot. Not panic, he told himself. Just bad coffee. Motion sickness. Bad decisions were piling up.
He leaned his head against the window. It was cold, faintly damp, and the vibration rattled through his skull. Outside, the city thinned into warehouses, then fields flattened by winter. Everything looked stripped down to essentials. Trees like bones. Sky like a lid.
He thought about turning back. About getting off at the next stop, calling it a lapse in judgment, a funny story he'd tell no one. He didn't. The bus doors hissed shut at each station and kept moving.
His phone buzzed once.
Jay: You on your way?
Jungwon stared at the screen. His throat felt tight again, but not in the same way.
Jungwon: Yeah
A pause.
Jay: You okay?
He swallowed. The bus hit a pothole and his stomach lurched in agreement.
Jungwon: Define okay.
A few seconds later:
Jay: Fair. Text me when you're closer. I'll come get you.
That simple. No heart emojis. No jokes.
Jungwon locked his phone and closed his eyes. His body was still tense, coiled like it was bracing for impact, but underneath that was something else, an alertness, a hum. Not excitement. Not dread. Not yet, at least.
Jay picked him up from the station, 15 minutes late and panting, holding a red rose in his hand, barely holding onto the stem.
"It looked better when I bought it and I definitely didn't want to buy you a bouquet and"—
"I like it, thanks."
"Let me help you with those," Jay said as he grabbed one of the suitcases. "Do you carry a corpse or rocks?"
"Neither."
"Jesus, Jungwon. I don't live in the wilderness."
"I came prepared."
Jay dumped the suitcase into the trunk with a grunt and straightened up, wiping his hands on his jeans as he'd just hauled something illegal.
"You still didn't answer the corpse question," he said.
"Use your imagination."
"Dangerous territory," Jay replied, slamming the trunk shut. He circled the car, opened the passenger door for him with exaggerated politeness. "Please, m'lord. Welcome to civilization."
Jungwon slid in, the seat warmer already on. He sighed before he could stop himself.
"Oh wow," Jay said, grinning as he got in. "That noise. That was a relief noise."
"Don't get cocky," Jungwon said. "I threw up in a sandwich bag three hours ago."
Jay paused, keys halfway to the ignition. "You what?"
"Drive," Jungwon said. "If you stop, I will do it again and this time I won't be polite about it. Or do it in a sandwich bag."
Jay laughed, breathless still, and pulled out of the lot. Traffic crawled. Neon signs flickered on, the station shrinking in the rearview mirror.
"So," Jay said after a moment, tapping the steering wheel. "You actually came."
"I know. Shocking."
"I half-expected you to text me something poetic and devastating and then ghost me forever."
"Tempting," Jungwon said. He glanced at the rose, lying awkwardly in the cup holder, petals a little bruised. "You ran with this?"
"I panicked," Jay admitted. "The florist looked at me like I was about to propose or apologize for cheating. I didn't know which was worse."
Jungwon smiled despite himself.
They stopped at a red light. Jay looked over at him like he was checking something off in his head.
"You look tired," he said quietly.
"You look late."
"Rude."
"But accurate."
The light turned green. Jay drove on.
"This isn't a grand gesture week," Jay said, eyes on the road. "Just so we're clear. No pressure. No reenactment of our entire adolescence. It's just… uhm, a test run. No, that sounds terrible and you already think I'm an asshole. It's"—
"Disappointing," Jungwon said. "I was hoping for at least one emotionally repressed meltdown."
"Give it time."
Jungwon leaned his head back against the seat, watching the city slide past. His body was still catching up to him, heavy, slightly sick, sore in places he hadn't thought about, but Jay was there. Fifteen minutes late and out of breath and holding a single, slightly tragic rose.
His apartment was expensive. Big. Fancy. Too shiny. Too clean even as he stepped inside, his boots covered in melting snow. It almost felt cruel to spoil the glistening floors.
"My humble home."
"Oh, don't try to act modest. This is a mansion."
"Compared to some of the people I work with, this is a barn," Jay said.
"So I live in the stables back home compared to"—
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Right. I know. Uhm…"
"Let me. Your bedroom is at the end of the hallway but you can… I mean, you don't have to, but you can sleep in my bed as well."
"Jay…"
"Remember, no pressure week. We go with the flow. If you want the guest bedroom, you… uhm want it, if you don't, I'm not kicking you out of my bed."
Jungwon set his suitcase down by the door instead of answering. The wheels clicked too loudly against the tile, echoing in a way that made the place feel even bigger than it already was.
"Your floors hate me," he said, glancing down at the wet prints his boots were leaving behind.
"They'll recover," Jay said. "They're emotionally resilient."
Jungwon huffed, then toed his boots off anyway, lining them up by instinct, as he did at home. The apartment smelled faintly of detergent and something woody, expensive, probably intentional. No clutter. No stray mugs. No signs of someone who stayed up too late and forgot himself.
He dragged his suitcase down the hallway Jay had pointed out. The guest room was… nice. Neutral. Hotel-nice. A bed that looked like it had never been slept in, a throw folded just so at the end. Too many people stacked on top of each other.
He stood there a moment, hand still on the handle.
When he came back out, Jay was leaning against the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone, like he was trying very hard not to hover.
"I'll take the room," Jungwon said.
Jay looked up immediately. "Okay. Yeah. Totally okay."
There was something quick and almost imperceptible that crossed his face, relief, maybe, or disappointment.
"But," Jungwon added, shrugging out of his jacket, "I reserve the right to change my mind when the jet lag—or bus lag, or whatever the hell that was—hits."
Jay smiled, softer this time. "Fair."
Silence settled again. Not awkward exactly. Just… careful.
"So," Jay said. "You hungry? I can order something. Or cook, but I should warn you, my cooking is mostly vibes and optimism."
"You made pasta for three years straight," Jungwon said. "And once burned water."
"That was a dark time."
Jungwon walked into the kitchen, leaned his hip against the counter opposite Jay. Up close, he noticed the faint shadows under Jay's eyes, the way his shoulders stayed just a little tense, like he wasn't fully off yet.
"You okay?" Jungwon asked, before he could stop himself.
Jay blinked. "Yeah. Just… weird having you here."
"Good weird?"
"Yeah," Jay said. "Good weird. Like I keep thinking I'm going to turn around and you won't be real which sounds cliche. But you have to admit I'm much better in person than through texts. I'm easy on the eyes."
Jungwon swallowed. He reached out without fully thinking about it, fingers brushing Jay's wrist, just enough to feel warmth, pulse.
"I'm here," he said. "For the week, at least."
Jay's gaze dropped to where they were touching. He didn't move away, but he didn't pull him closer either.
"No pressure," he echoed quietly.
"Yeah," Jungwon said, pulling his hand back, a little too fast. "No pressure."
They stood there, side by side, the city humming faintly through the windows, both of them pretending their bodies weren't already leaning toward something familiar.
"I… planned something for today, actually," Jay said and stepped away, opening the fridge. "Beer?"
"Sure."
"My friends want to meet you."
"You told your friends about me?" Jungwon asked and took the beer from him. It was cold, he almost dropped it onto the floor.
"Told them a few things. You'll like them. Seriously."
"Okay."
Jay's friends chose a bar that tried very hard to look effortless. Exposed brick, warm lighting, music that hovered just below intrusive. The kind of place where no one looked drunk, just pleasantly undone, where everyone wore casual clothing, no suits, no high-heels or sexy dresses. Everyone cosplayed into normal, mediocre, lower-middle-class people like those back home.
"This is neutral ground," Jay said as they walked in. "No one's apartment. No emotional hostage situations."
"That's reassuring," Jungwon said.
Jay laughed and reached for his back for a second, like he was about to guide him by reflex, then thought better of it and let his hand drop.
They found the group at a long table near the back. Four people. Two women, two men. Mid-to-late twenties. Polished in a way Jungwon recognized immediately: good jobs, decent money, opinions formed confidently and expressed often.
"Jay!" someone called, already standing. "Finally."
"Late, as always," another added.
"I bring gifts," Jay said, gesturing vaguely at Jungwon. "This is Jungwon."
There was a brief, collective pause. Not awkward exactly. More… evaluative. They watched him, delicately, eyes darting from their glasses back to him, down to their fidgeting fingers.
"Hi," one of the women said warmly, smiling wide. "I'm Mira."
"Eli," said the guy next to her, nodding once.
Introductions blurred together. Jungwon shook hands, smiled, answered the usual questions—where are you from, what do you do, how do you know Jay—careful with his words, instinctively vague.
"A teacher?" Eli said. "Sacrificing your sanity for the promising youth of our country."
"Stupid," Jungwon corrected mildly.
Jay snorted into his beer.
They sat. Drinks came. Conversation flowed easily around him, like water moving around a rock. Work gossip. Inside jokes. Someone complained about their boss, and everyone immediately understood who and why.
Jay leaned back in his chair, relaxed in a way Jungwon hadn't seen yet. He talked with his hands. Interrupted people. Was interrupted back. Teased and got teased in return. He belonged here.
Jungwon listened.
At some point, Mira leaned toward him. "So. How long are you staying?"
"A week."
"Oh wow," she said. "That's… long-distance brave."
Jungwon smiled. "Or bad decision brave."
She laughed. "Fair."
Jay caught the end of it. "What did I miss?"
"Nothing incriminating," Jungwon said.
"Disappointing."
They ordered food. Plates arrived. Someone suggested shots. Jungwon declined. No one pushed.
"So how did you two meet?" another friend asked, casually, like it wasn't a loaded question.
Jay answered before Jungwon could. "First grade. I think we were 6 or 7. Long story. Very formative."
"That's one way to put it," Jungwon said.
Jay glanced at him, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his face, then smiled again.
Conversation moved on. A story about a disastrous team-building retreat. Someone did an impression. Laughter erupted.
Jungwon laughed too, a beat late.
He felt it then, not jealousy exactly. More like… displacement. Like watching someone live in a house you'd once helped build, now furnished with better things.
At some point, Jay leaned over, voice low. "You okay?"
Jungwon nodded. "Yeah. Just observing."
Jay's mouth twitched. "You always do that."
"Someone has to remember things accurately."
Later, when someone asked Jay about a promotion, the table erupted into congratulations. Jungwon watched Jay wave it off, uncomfortable but pleased. His smile was big, he enjoyed the attention, the way most conversations circled around him.
"Drinks are on you then," someone said.
"Absolutely not," Jay said. "I'm still pretending to be humble."
Jungwon looked at his glass. Empty. He hadn't noticed finishing it.
Mira stood. "Bathroom break. Jungwon, you coming?"
"Sure," he said.
He liked her most out of Jay's friends.
In the bathroom, Mira washed her hands slowly, studying him in the mirror.
"So," she said. "You're… different from how I pictured you."
"Oh?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Jay talks about you like you're—" she searched for the word, "—louder."
Jungwon smiled faintly. "I am. Just not like this. I'm trying to… uhm, how do I put it without"—
"Not embarrass him?"
Jungwon laughed, splashing water over his face. "Something like that. I'm the outsider."
She nodded, like that made sense. "He's glad you're here. Just so you know. Don't tell him… or that I said this, but he talked about your visit for at least one week straight."
Jungwon shook his head.
He wasn't sure if that was true.
When they came back, Jay looked up immediately. Relief again. Quick. Gone just as fast.
They stayed another hour. Then another. Jungwon grew tired in a bone-deep way. The kind that made everything feel slightly unreal.
Eventually, Jay checked his phone. "Okay. I'm stealing him. He's been on a bus for eight hours."
"A hero," someone said.
"Text us tomorrow," Mira added. "We want him again." She winked at him, the corner of her mouth lifting. If he could like women, he thought perhaps he could fall in love with someone like her.
Jay smiled. Jungwon nodded.
Outside, the night air was cold and sharp. Jungwon breathed it in like it might reset something.
"You were quiet," Jay said as they walked.
"I liked them," Jungwon replied. "They're… good."
Jay glanced at him. "That didn't sound like a compliment."
"It was," Jungwon said. "Just not about me."
They stopped at a crosswalk. Red light. Cars rushing past.
Jay hesitated. Then: "You didn't feel… out of place, did you?"
Jungwon thought about lying. Then didn't.
"A little," he said. "It's fine. Mira was very nice to me."
Jay nodded slowly. "Yeah. She's like that. Has a child from a failed relationship."
The light turned green.
"Oh."
They crossed together, shoulders almost touching, neither of them moving closer.
Back at the apartment, Jay kicked his shoes off by the door and flicked on the lights. The place looked exactly as it had before they left. Untouched. Like it had been holding its breath.
"You can put the rose in water if you want," Jay said, nodding toward the cup holder he'd brought inside. "Or we can let it die heroically."
"I'll let it die," Jungwon said.
Jay laughed, but it didn't quite land.
Jungwon shrugged out of his jacket, hung it carefully on the back of a chair. His body felt heavy now, the earlier alertness drained out of him, leaving a dull ache behind his eyes.
"Did you actually like my friends, or are you lying to make me feel better?" Jay asked, hovering near the kitchen.
"I told you. They are good people. It was fine."
"Yeah, but fine like—" Jay waved a hand, searching. "Fine fine, or fine like you're filing mental notes for later?"
Jungwon looked at him. "Does it matter?"
Jay exhaled. "I guess I just… I wanted you to like them."
"I did."
"And not feel weird."
There it was.
Jungwon leaned against the counter. "Jay."
"I know," Jay said quickly. "I know that sounds bad. I didn't mean weird like—" He stopped, rubbed a hand over his face. "Fuck. See. This is what I meant."
Jungwon waited.
"I just," Jay continued, slower now, "this is my life now. My job. My friends. And I thought if you saw it, it would—" He gestured vaguely between them. "Make things clearer. That you'd realize I'm not that different and I—I'm not that snobbish or out of touch or that my friends eat caviar as a snack."
Jungwon's chest tightened. "Clear how?"
Jay hesitated. Too long.
"Like," he said, finally, "I don't know, Jungwon. We lost touch for 10 years, we go with our lives, we meet again, sleep together… we like it, or at least, I do… I keep thinking about it, about you. I just wanted to make things easier."
Easier.
"For who?" Jungwon asked.
Jay looked genuinely startled. "For you. I mean—" He stopped himself, jaw tightening. "That sounded wrong."
"It sounded like you brought me here to… what. Acclimate?" Jungwon said quietly. "Like a test drive?"
"No," Jay said immediately. "No. God. That's not—"
"Because that's what it feels like," Jungwon said. "A week in your real life. To see if I can keep up."
Jay stared at him. "I didn't think of it like that."
"I know," Jungwon said. "That's the problem."
Silence stretched. The hum of the fridge filled it, low and constant.
Jay leaned back against the counter, shoulders slumping. "I didn't want you to come here and then go back home and… keep imagining things," he said. "I thought seeing it would stop you from filling in the blanks with worst-case scenarios."
"Great, thanks."
"Of, fuck off," Jay said, slamming his fist into the counter. "Here we go again. You know what, Jungwon?! I'm not responsible for you feeling… the way you do."
"And how do I feel? Come on, tell me," Jungwon said, stepping towards him. "Finish your damn sentence."
"Hurt in your ego. Humiliated. Too little?"
"Asshole."
"Am I wrong?!"
"No!"
"I worked my ass off to get here, Jungwon. I didn't just wake up one day rich and shiny. And I don't know what you want me to do with that. Sometimes it feels like you're already halfway out the door. Like you're waiting for me to prove you right."
Jungwon looked at him. The expensive apartment. The controlled posture. The way Jay kept his hands busy when he was nervous.
"I'm tired," Jungwon said.
Jay shook his head, his laugh sad. "Is that it?"
Jungwon shrugged. "You nailed it. What else can I say? I—I came here… for you. Because I… never mind. I should go to sleep."
Jay straightened immediately. "Guest room?"
"Yes."
Jay nodded. "I'll be here," he said, gesturing vaguely. "If you need anything. Water. Silence. A formal apology PowerPoint."
Jungwon paused in the hallway. Looked back.
Jungwon disappeared into the guest room and closed the door gently behind him. He sat on the bed, head leaning into his palms and when he felt it, the abrupt sinking, he grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.
He couldn't sleep. The apartment was too quiet. No creaking boards, no cars honking, or the boiler starting to hum at 2 AM. Not even the bed creaked as he shifted and turned, as he grabbed the sheets and threw them onto the floor.
He stood up, eyes adjusting to the darkness, and slipped into the hallway, steps light on the floorboard, until he stopped in front of Jay's door. Jungwon didn't knock; he opened the door and stood there, at the foot of the bed, watching him sleep. Light shone onto his face from the window, soft and almost ethereal, and Jungwon felt sorry.
"Fuck… you scared the shit out of me," Jay said, jolting awake.
"Sorry… I… uhm, couldn't sleep. After our fight."
Jay pushed himself up on one elbow, hair a mess, eyes unfocused for a second before they found Jungwon standing there like a ghost at the foot of the bed.
"Oh," he said, quieter now.
Jay rubbed at his face, then glanced at the clock, like time might explain something. "Do you… want to sit? Or—"
Jungwon moved before he finished the sentence. He sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that the mattress dipped under his weight. Close enough that Jay could feel the change, the subtle shift of another body.
Neither of them spoke.
Jay's hand rested on the sheet between them, fingers curled slightly, like he was holding himself back on instinct. Jungwon watched it. The familiar hand. The scar on the knuckle. He remembered it wrapped around a pen, around a steering wheel, around his wrist once, years ago, like it had always belonged there.
"This was a bad idea," Jay said.
"Which part?" Jungwon asked.
Jay huffed a short, humorless laugh. "You being here. Me opening my mouth earlier. This."
"This," Jungwon echoed, glancing down at the space between them.
Silence again. Thicker now.
Jungwon lay back first. Not dramatically. Just… surrendered to the mattress, staring up at the ceiling like he had in the guest room, except here the quiet felt different.
Jay swore under his breath.
"You don't have to—" he started.
"I know," Jungwon said. "I just… can you stop talking?"
And so he stopped when Jungwon kissed him, pressing him into the pillows.
"Fuck me."
"Are you sure?"
"Before I change my mind," Jungwon said and Jay turned him around, onto his back, pinning both arms above his head.
"Tell me if something feels wrong, ok?"
"It's not my first time, you know?"
Jay groaned, closing his eyes.
"It's… you know, the first time we…"
"Fuck."
"Yeah…"
Jungwon closed his eyes, kissed him back, let Jay do whatever he wanted to him. It almost felt too natural, automatic even, how well it all fit together, how his body responded immediately to his every touch.
He hated himself, how it had never been the same with anyone else. How, as he arched his back into his touch, fingers grabbing the sheets, as Jay spread him open, sliding deeper inside of him, he could never get over it.
Jungwon let himself be guided back, let Jay's weight settle over him, grounding and heavy in a way that made his thoughts finally slow.
It felt good. Too good. That was the problem.
After, they lay there in the dark, not touching this time. The space between them returned, narrower but sharper.
Their elbows touched, he could hear Jay's breath, too loud in the darkness of the room.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier…" Jay said.
"I'm going back to the guest bedroom."
"Jungwon," he said, and grabbed his wrist.
"What?"
"Nothing. Whatever. If you want to leave tomorrow it's… whatever. We should sleep."
"Yeah…"
But he couldn't sleep. The bed was cold. He turned and tried, really tried to empty his mind, not to replay everything; how much he'd wanted it. Jay's touch. Jay.
He stood up again, pacing around the room, feet cold, and opened the door. He peeked into the hallway, an endless darkness broken only by the light coming from a window.
A streetlamp.
He knocked on Jay's door and waited.
"Jungwon…?"
"I couldn't… sleep. Without you," he said and sat on the edge of the bed, head in hands.
"I fucked it up, I know."
"You didn't. I don't know. I… just… maybe we should stop… this. Trying."
Jay sighed.
"Fuck."
"Yeah, fuck."
"No."
"What?" Jungwon asked and glanced back at him.
"No. I'm not… giving up like this."
"We don't"—
"Don't fucking say we don't fit or work out or whatever. Because we do."
"How?"
"I just know we do," Jay said and touched his back. "Look… I'm not saying this is perfect, because it's not. We both know it."
"I think everyone knows it. Does your mother even know about"—
"Why do you think she insisted so much that I go hang out with you?"
"Makes sense."
"The point is… let's just, and I know you don't like when I say it, go with the flow. No expectations. No big gestures. Just… spend the week and if we keep fighting like two idiots, then yeah… maybe we are doomed."
"God, Jay."
"I know. Entertain me with this."
"Fine… why not?"
"You know… Mira really likes you, for what is worth."
"Thanks… it's worth, something."
"Good, now… let's go back to sleep, in my bed, because tomorrow I have a full itinerary planned out and it starts at 8," Jay said.
And Jungwon smiled, letting Jay pull him back into bed, under the covers. He didn't feel like sinking. Not quite.