Archive of Our Own

.·•✦º·´

Hongjoong
Sorry I’m not there to welcome you to Jeju
I wanted to make a little sign and everything
“stuck up chocolate guy”

Seonghwa
Har har

Hongjoong
Someone should be at the house
They can give you a ride and set up a room for you

Seonghwa
No thank you
I’ve booked a hotel and already lined up an apartment inspection

Hongjoong
What?!
I can house a small army and you’re going to stay in a hotel???

Seonghwa
Then open your waterfront mcmansion to your fans
It’s no bother to me

Hongjoong
Hwa...

Seonghwa
Hongjoong.
I am already nervous about being trapped by an ocean on all sides
I just need some time and space to get settled

Hongjoong
Alright
But text or call me if you need anything, okay?

Seonghwa
I’ve successfully looked after myself for five years
So you don’t need to worry about me
I’ll see you when you’re back from tour, okay 💕

Hongjoong
I’m serious
Even stupid stuff
Just text
Btw, when are you starting at Lune?

Seonghwa
Tomorrow

Hongjoong
TOMORROW?
I thought you said living in Seogwipo was going to be like a vacation

Seonghwa
Yeah
A working vacation
Now go work hard for your shades!
bye bye~

Seonghwa smirks at the frantic three dot bubble that pops up in response before sliding his phone into the back pocket of his linen trousers. He expected Jeju to be humid (it is a semi-tropical island after all) but somehow it’s even worse than he prepared himself for. Inside the unbusy airport, the air is notably heavier than it is outdoors in Seoul; a fine sweat already wetting his hairline.

“Why did I let you talk me into this, Joongie?” Seonghwa sighs, dabbing a handkerchief to his brow. Though, it doesn't matter how dramatic he gets…

He knows why.

Ah. There’s his last case. Seonghwa steps forward to haul the oversized luggage off the conveyor belt, hitting the smooth floor with a thud. And a wheel is broken. Wonderful. Seonghwa sighs out a Swiss-German expletive before dragging the case over to his trolley which is already struggling under the weight of his other belongings. With a grunt, he attempts to heave the luggage onto the top of the trolley.

He must look like a damn fool to these people. Curse his pride.

I told you so, says Hongjoongs voice in his mind.

“Halt die Klappe!” Seonghwa shushes it.

Suddenly the luggage he’s struggling under becomes much lighter, hoisted up and onto the trolley. Seonghwa stumbles back, flipping black bangs out of his eyes to see a young man with fluffy brunette hair, dressed in an ill-fitted suit and white gloves, grinning back at him like a cheshire cat.

“Welcome to Jeju!” he exclaims as he flings his hand outwards in a grandiose gesture that clearly looked cooler in his head.

Seonghwa stares at it for a second before wiping his own hand on his pants and giving a tight shake. After shaking hands with some of the most well-regarded chocolatiers on the planet for five years, he’s not sure what’s making him so nervous about this one random kid from Jeju.

The babyfaced man glances at the overstacked trolley. “First time on our glorious island?”

Quickly adopting a sour expression, Seonghwa straightens up. “Yes. I’m looking for a taxi rental to Pine Hotel in Seogwipo, do you know where I can order one?”

“A taxi?” the man pouts, tilting his head in a way which makes him look rather cute. “Well, I’m a chauffeur. I could take you!”

Is this the ‘Jejuan neighborliness’ Hongjoong speaks so highly of?

Seonghwa blinks. “You are? I mean no offence, but you barely look like you meet the drinking age.”

The man bats the air, bashful at that. “Oh, you are too kind, Mr…?”

“P-Park. Park Seonghwa.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Park. I’m Huening Kai! If you’ll step right this way.”

Seonghwa isn’t given much choice, considering the prepubescent chauffeur starts striding off towards the airport entrance with all his belongings. Panicked, Seonghwa hops into a jog to catch up, getting blasted by the sticky Jeju atmosphere the second he steps outside. “God, and it’s only April,” Seonghwa breathes to himself, face falling.

“Don’t fall behind, Mr. Park!”

“R-Right.” Is this kid a marathon runner or something? Seonghwa chases Kai past rows of palm trees to the carpark where an actually legit looking black car is parked in the pick-up bay. Next thing he knows, Kai is loading in the bags of luggage like there’s nothing but feathers and air inside them. It’s the boot slamming shut which starts Seonghwa from his stupor.

“Ready to go, Mr. Park?”

Under a cloudless blue sky, unending fields of yellow whiz by as the car travels south out of Jeju City. The main attraction for some kind of flower festival Seonghwa read about in a tourist magazine on the flight. He wonders if Hongjoong would be interested in seeing the flowers with him. Hm... would it come across too obvious? Maybe Seonghwa can spin it around; have Hongjoong take him under the guise of showing him around the island. Yes, that might work.

He attempts to conjure up Hongjoong’s loving smile against a backdrop of spring blossoms... but it’s been so long since they’ve seen each other face-to-face that his visage is nothing more than a nondescript fuzz. Guiltily, Seonghwa flutters a hand over his chest, taking in nervous breaths.

Could this time be different?

“Spring, a lovely reminder of how beautiful change can be.”

Seonghwa blinks back into the present. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, it’s just a quote,” Kai explains, a grin in his words. “What brings you to our sacred island at such a wonderful time of year?”

“I’m only here temporarily,” Seonghwa mutters, glaring out of the backseat window. “I’ll be back in Switzerland before the wind turns cold.”

“Really?” Kai asks, completely unaffected by Seonghwa’s unpleasant tone. “You packed like you’re moving here for good!”

A shiver chills Seonghwa’s spine. “No, I’m just here to help out the chocolate shop in Seogwipo.”

And confess to my childhood crush. But, like, actually do it this time.

“Lune?”

“You know it?”

“Everyone knows Lune! There’s only one chocolate shop, after all.” An amused glance catches Seonghwa in the rear view mirror. “I see why Mr. Kim hired you.”

“Meaning?”

“He only hires hot people.”

Scandalised, Seonghwa scoffs through his teeth. “Yes, and I’m sure it’s nothing to do with the fact that I studied and worked as a chocolatier in Europe for five years. Not to mention such kind of discrimination is illegal.”

“Ohh, that’s why you were talkin’ funny back at the airport!”

“It’s not talkin’ funny, I was speaking German.”

“Oh, entschuldigen Sie mal!” Kai banters back, with perfect intonation for German sarcasm.

Seonghwa gapes, speechless. Is this strange kid just put on this planet to show him up and off balance at every turn?

Put in his place, Seonghwa feels his cheeks heat up and decides it’s best not to talk back. Becoming accustomed to blunt European culture was one thing, but this ‘Jejuan neighbourliness’ seems downright rude. Seonghwa glances to the front seat, hoping to find a phone hooked up on a hands-free with a map open but there is none. Instead, he pulls out his own phone--

Hongjoong
Jesus fucking christ, Hwa

-- and smiles, swiping away Hongjoong’s message to bring up Kakao maps. He keys in the name of the hotel. Another twenty five minutes stuck in this car.

Pondering, he types in Lune and opens up the review listing. Boutique chocolate shop, 3.7 stars. The lead photo is a slightly out of focus shot of a muted teal gift box with gold embossing and a white ribbon, placed next to a small vase of flowers. It doesn’t sell the location at all. The other photos don’t fare much better, amateurish close ups of various chocolate drinks and bon bons that do no justice to the product. There’s even a photo of a dumpster in a narrow, unmarked alley. Seonghwa screws up his nose and is about to close out of the listing when his eye catches the last entry in the gallery.

Lined up in front of a large marble slab are four men. Seonghwa pinches the screen to zoom in. An older man in a brown suit with monolids and a warm, toothy smile is no doubt Mr. Kim, the owner. Beside him, a shorter man with a black bowl cut, precious cheeks and round spectacles which almost distract from how young he must be. The one with a sharp triangular face and large eyes is a stunning beauty, very ethereal, and shouldn’t pull off a blond mullet as well as he does. The tallest is a big brunette puppy-dog of a human with a boy-next-door beaming smile, proudly holding an espresso portafilter. Seonghwa bites back the smile that’s crept its way onto his face, stomach squirming.

So, these are my new coworkers.

Kai wasn’t kidding. They’re all aggressively handsome. Even Mr. Kim looks like he would have been a heartbreaker back in his day.

“Do you believe in fairies?”

It takes a second for Seonghwa to realise he’s being spoken to. “What did you say?”

“Do you believe in fairies?”

So, he did hear that correctly. What is this bizarro place, Hongjoong? “Like, the kind in folktales?”

“Yeah!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Seonghwa snorts. “I’m not a child.”

“Okay, what about mermaids?”

“That’s even worse. Imagine being half-fish.” Seonghwa presses a hand to his throat, suppressing the urge to gag.

Kai looks over his shoulder for a second, eyes wide. “You don’t like mer?”

“They’re not real,” Seonghwa points out, brow feeling damp again despite the dry air conditioning blasting in the car. “I hate the ocean.”

“I must admit, Mr. Park, Seogwipo seems like a strange choice for you, then.”

“I didn’t choose it. A friend of mine lives here.”

More than a friend, his brain supplies unhelpfully.

“You must really like them.”

“They’re my oldest friend,” Seonghwa replies, feeling as if he needs to justify himself. “I can count the times I’ve seen them in the last five years on both hands, and I would… I want to spend more time with them before I go back.” Messy all-nighters at Berlin rave parties and combing flea markets at dawn in Vienna that Seonghwa doesn’t fully remember and wouldn’t want to even if he could… though he doesn’t count it as time spent with Hongjoong. It was time spent with Chan, Changbin, Jisung and Hongjoong. He supposes he should be grateful they even bothered to invite an awkward guy like him along while they were off being superstars…

“Gosh, I wish I had a friend like you, usually people are trying to run away from me!”

One of Jeju’s great unsolved mysteries, I'm sure, Seonghwa thinks, rolling his eyes out the window.

The beating sun is high in the blue sky when they reach Seogwipo, by which point Seonghwa has made it his personal mission never to see Kai again. It smells different here. Saltier, somehow. A well-coiffed hotel attendant with a thick Jejuan accent finishes loading luggage onto a wheeled hotel cart as Kai comes around the car to hold his hand out one last time. “Well, good luck with it all, Mr. Park!”

Seonghwa shakes his hand. “Thank you for the smooth ride, I must admit, you’re quite the road-devil behind the wheel.”

“Anytime you wanna street race, hit me up!” Kai grins, handing Seonghwa a minimalist-style business card with both hands. “No one can get to and from Jeju airport faster than me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Seonghwa lies, slipping the card into his wallet and fingers into the bill pocket. “How much do I owe you?”

“No charge,” Kai grins, “consider it your warmest of welcomes to Seogwipo!”

“No, please, you must take a tip at least,” Seonghwa frets, pulling out a 50,000 won note.

“Is this everything, sir?” the attendant asks.

Seonghwa whips around, scanning over the bags of luggage. One, two, three.. eight. “Yes, that’s all, thank you.” When he turns back, Kai and the black car are gone. He double-takes, frantic as he looks about, money still outstretched in his hand. “Wha.. What? H-He was just there?”

“Who was, sir?”

“My, um… my chauffeur,” Seonghwa blinks, jaw on its hinges. “I-- It hasn’t even been an hour and I think the humid air is making me nutty.”

“Wait until you see your first siren,” she laughs wearily, pushing the luggage cart through the hotel entrance.

“S-Siren?!” Seonghwa balks, spurting into a power walk to follow her, one fearful eye over his shoulder.

.·•✦º·´

Monday morning.

Seonghwa pulls his head out of the toilet bowl, dabbing his mouth with the back of his hand. Shakily, he reaches for his toothbrush, applying toothpaste to the bristles for the third time. Lying back on the cool tiles of the bathroom, he brushes, staring blankly at the ceiling.

I’m so nervous, I think I might evaporate into thin air.

His phone rings.

Gingerly, Seonghwa stands up to retrieve his phone and nearly bursts into hysteria when he sees Hongjoong’s face appear on the screen. “Uh cumft duh hiss, Ongoon.”

“I don’t speak Colgate.”

Seonghwa spits into the sink. “I can’t do this, Hongjoong.”

“Of course you can, you’ve been looking forward to being a chocolate sunbaenim since the day you left for Switzerland. You won the World Chocolate Masters! You can handle three dongsaengs and an old man easy peasy.”

“I thought I’d be more prepared than this.” The bright, young, expectant faces from the photo invades Seonghwa’s mind and slaps a hand over his mouth, cheeks blowing up. He keeps it down. That’s progress, at least.

“You know this stuff backwards and forwards, Hwa. You could temper in your sleep with both hands tied behind your back. You could instruct them in five different languages!”

“Right. I know this…” Seonghwa nods blankly, trying to recall basic crystallisation temperatures. “Heat to 46, cool to 28, reheat to… to… Fuck! I’m doomed, they’re going to see right through me.”

“Deep breaths, Hwa.”

The phone buzzes again and Seonghwa nearly drops it. “O-Oh my god.”

“What?!”

“Läderach sent a text.”

“What did he say?”

“Good luck today to my favourite apprentice,” Seonghwa translates, voice trembling. “Korea is going to become the next chocolate capital under your wise tutorship. I could not be more proud. As they say: fighting!” Lightheaded, he stumbles, just catching himself on the side of the basin.

“See! I believe in you. Läderach believes in you. You can do this, Hwa!”

Seonghwa checks the time. “Scheisse. I gotta go, Hongjoong. Gonna go to town before open and see if they sell any weed gummies at the pharmacist.”

Hongjoong makes a face. “You’re not in Europe anymore, Dorothy. You’re not going to find weed gummies in Seogwipo. I doubt you’d find them in any daylight establishment in Seoul either.”

“If there's no gummies, well… I’ll think of something.”

“Water and food, Hwa. Make sure you eat. No one needs you fainting on your first day. As Changbin always says, being hydrated is sexy.”

“Y-You make sure you eat too,” Seonghwa says robotically, swallowing. “Bye Hongjoong.”

“I believe in you, Hwa! Remember to eat!”

Seonghwa puts the phone down on the basin and looks up to assess himself in the mirror. Perhaps it’s the last three weeks of stress of being deported from Switzerland, but he seems older somehow. They say when humans turn 25, the number of newly formed cells in the body no longer outnumbers the dying cells.

For a long time, there’s been an image Seonghwa holds onto in his mind; what he would do, where he would be, what he would look like if everything worked out… and he’s nowhere close. His dreams of working alongside Michelin-star chefs in Belgium seems to be slipping from his grasp, he hasn’t confessed to Hongjoong and now his body is starting to crap out.

Fingers curl around his earlobe, feeling a diamond encrusted star pendant that dangles from a small hoop earring. A gift from his mentor, Herr Läderach, when he passed his apprenticeship. It should be a comfort, but the reality is that he's scared.

“Am I lost?” he whispers brokenly, as if his voice could be carried across the winds to Switzerland. “Is this all I’m capable of?”

It’s another twenty minutes of fussing over his hair and make-up before Seonghwa finally leaves the hotel. It’s far too warm and sticky to wear his hospitality blacks but he’s in them anyway. He is a professional, gods damn it, no matter the weather. The world could be on fire and he would still be wearing full length slacks and Ted Baker derbies.

Seonghwa gets laughed out of the first two pharmacies he passes on the way to the Seogwipo beach promenade, where Lune is located. So, he goes for the next best anti-anxiety medication: coffee. Jeju Island is famous for its seafood, not coffee, and for good reason Seonghwa discovers. The one americano he buys goes straight in the garbage before he lowers himself to a Starbucks, because at least it's reliably average and will kick the caffeine headache.

Right at 7:30 a.m., Seonghwa finds himself outside Lune's doors, seriously regretting not telling Mr. Kim that he needed a few days to get settled before starting work. He ignores Hongjoong’s voice in his head telling him he told him so (again) and exhales sharply.

The shop facade is clearly a knock off of a European patisserie with large windows and painted the same muted teal colour as the logo online. Rattan alfresco furniture is set up but sits empty, still half an hour until business hours. He can just see inside the shop area, French-style flooring and white tiles walls are lined with rustic wooden shelving to display gift boxes and all sorts.

Mr. Kim said the door would be unlocked for him so Seonghwa places his hand on the doorknob and pauses, leaning forward to press his forehead against his knuckles.

Come on. There must be something to help calm your nerves. I'm a strong, independent, capable man. No, fuck. What else? If I do well, I'll make Hongjoong proud. Okay, that made it worse. How about: if you fuck this up, Park Seonghwa, you will destroy Läderach's reputation and will never be let back into Switzerland again.

Seonghwa's backside clenches all the way up into his intestines.

Perfect.

Seonghwa pushes inside Lune, immediately comforted by the thick waft of cacao and espresso. A couple of cherry blossom petals swirl in from the pavement. Frustrating. Those will need cleaning up before they open for the day. He keeps his expression schooled neutral at all costs, using all his willpower to do so.

Lune is split into two areas, the customer area and the workspace, which is divided by a wall of glass panels. Mr. Kim awaits Seonghwa where one panel swings out to reveal a hidden door, eagerly beckoning him forward.

Läderach’s reputation, Läderach's reputation, Seonghwa repeats over and over in his mind, coming to a stop inside the workspace.

Opposite him are the four men who are now his coworkers, emotion in their eyes ranging on a spectrum from excitement to fear.

Wait.

"This is Park Seonghwa, who will be joining us for the next three months. He graduated as an apprentice under Swiss Master Chocolatier Luckas Läderach and is also a Master Chocolatier himself, after winning the World Chocolate Masters competition last year. We are absolutely delighted to have Mr. Park choose our humble chocolatier to share his expertise and wisdom with. Not only is this a turning point for Lune, I guarantee you'll have no better opportunity to learn and…"

Seonghwa tries to pay attention to Mr. Kim, he really does, but something's not right. Tall puppy dog; bowl cut and spectacles; blond mullet, but... who is that?

There's an anomaly. A young man who wasn't included in the photo from yesterday. There's something about him. Mischievousness. A pocket bursting with golden light. A jock radiating popularity and god-given confidence. Ripples of onyx black hair frame his sharp cheekbones and well-proportioned hawk nose. A single opal drips from his ear. His round, youthful eyes lock onto Seonghwa, narrowing like he views the world through a sharp lens.

And then he grins.

Seonghwa almost buckles at the knees. Transformed in an instant, the man now has the kind of face that stops you in your tracks. It’s unfair, really, how handsome he undoubtedly is on the outside but with an ability to bare a beautiful soul with a single smile. A smile that could anchor a ship in a hurricane; a grounding tether to reality. Who is he? Seonghwa thinks desperately, like a madman.

Suddenly, the cute coworker is pushed down into a bow by tall puppy dog beside him and Seonghwa snaps back into the room. He swoops into a deep bow of his own. “Please take good care of me.”

As Seonghwa rises up, there’s a hushed exchanged among the others before bowl cut and spectacles stamps on cute coworker’s foot, making him suppress a squeal of pain. The corner of Seonghwa’s mouth quirks upwards for a split-second. Mr. Kim stalks over to them and Seonghwa can’t help but think he’s inherited a troupe of handsome disasters.

He should fit right in, then.

“Aw, and here I thought I was your chocolate ace because of my winning personality,” the cute coworker teases as he straightens up, freezing when he comes nose to nose with Mr. Kim.

A small, strained smile twists onto Mr. Kim’s face, a vein visible on his forehead from even where Seonghwa is standing. “We’re all going to work hard to make Mr. Park feel like part of the Lune family, aren’t we, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung.

And he tries to, desperately, but Seonghwa cannot look away from him.

“Absolutely, Mr. Kim,” Wooyoung says. His accent is mysterious, paired with an adorable, higher-pitched lilt. Flashing another toothy grin, he leans to the side, a cascade of hair in his sunshine eyesmile. “Anything you need, you can count on me Mr. Park!”

Oh, those sweet, pitch-black eyes beckon. The curve of his full lips are rosy and warm; if only Seonghwa could kiss them--

Seonghwa’s blood runs cold.

Fucking hell, Park Seonghwa. Pull it together. These are your coworkers. Your hoobaes. How are you going to convince them to respect you when you can’t even control your own disgusting impulses?

Pulling his features tight as a rubberband, Seonghwa forces himself to roll his eyes.

There. That will put them off.

There must be something about the humid Jeju air that's making him antsy. Always laser focused on his ambition, Seonghwa has long been an expert at controlling any romantic or sexual tendencies. Sure, he's had a string of one-night stands with European men that Seonghwa would never admit to inside or outside a confessional booth. No, because there is only one man that he has ever truly loved.

Kim Hongjoong.

Seonghwa knows he broke Kim Hongjoong’s heart when left to train in Switzerland. Hongjoong never said so, but it was obvious. Best of friends since they were three years old, and, back then, Hongjoong acted as a sort of protector for Seonghwa. Protected and supported him through his fear of the ocean, fear of fish, and the bullying he was subjected to at school over his awkwardness. From a young age, Seonghwa knew he loved Hongjoong but when they shared their first kiss together, Seonghwa backed off, sent into a spiral about his own sexuality, instead of taking Hongjoong by the hand and setting off into the unknown together. It is one of his many great regrets in life.

Hongjoong went on to chase his dream of being a successful musician and before they knew it, his rap troupe, UNDERWORLD, took off at a global level, making the possibility of a relationship too complicated. Still, during the early days of their success, they were able to cross paths in Europe occasionally. Every time Seonghwa gathered up the courage to confess, they would either get interrupted, or the mood wasn’t right, or Seonghwa would lose his nerve.

Right place, wrong time. Wrong place, right time. Always.

He went to Switzerland because it was supposed to be where he would find himself. Where he would crack the code on how to manage the situations around him that always felt uncontrollable and overwhelming. Switzerland is where he would become someone worthy, brave and lovable. He was going to be someone worthy of loving Hongjoong, someone who is so fearless and ambitious, who flew towards any horizon without fear.

So why, in this no-name chocolate shop, in the same town as Hongjoong after five long years, does he feel like he’s achieved none of those things?

“Right!” Mr. Kim bellows, clapping his hands so loud that Seonghwa’s skeleton damn near jumps out of his body. “Mr. Park, if you’d like to join me in the office? Everyone else, it’s twenty minutes until doors open so back to business.”

There’s a weak, out-of-time confirmation from the group. Seonghwa tuts under his breath.

Mr. Kim’s office is down a short hallway at the back of the workspace, opposite a row of cubbies and adjacent to a metal fly-screen back door that’s wobbly on its hinges. The office itself is a tight, dank room only illuminated by a tiny, shaded window and a laptop so thick it could murder someone with blunt force. The sheer untidiness of it makes Seonghwa physically ill, files and papers strewn everywhere and sticking out of file cabinet drawers where they’ve been shoved. It would take someone months to sort through this.

“So,” Seonghwa swallows, “where would you like me to start?”

Mr. Kim leans down to press the power button on the laptop and grabs a forest green jacket off the wall. “Wherever you like, Mr. Park. Just make us excellent. I entrust the shop to you.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Seonghwa frets as Mr. Kim squeezes past him.

“Moo carsa soo carsa.”

Seonghwa blinks hard, stunned. “Do you mean: mi casa, su casa?”

Mr. Kim waves a vague hand. “Yes, yes. Now, I’m going to go hunt down a few journalists that owe me favours.” Hand hovering over the doorknob, he turns and points. “You’re media trained, yes?”

“Yes…”

“Perfect. I’ll leave everything in your capable hands, Mr. Park!”

When he leaves, Seonghwa stands there gaping like a goddamn fish (how ironic) at being abandoned less than five minutes after arrival. “What the hell was that?” he whispers, turning to place a hand to his head. What backwater venture has he stumbled into?

There’s not much time left until open and he still hasn’t learned everyone’s names. Seonghwa allows himself a moment’s grace to compose himself before he pulls the office door away and is almost blown off his feet, coming nose-to-nose with bright black eyes and a blinding smile.

“Hiya, boss!”

Seonghwa grabs over his heartspace. “What the f--? Were you just standing there the whole time?”

Wooyoung pouts. “Yeah. Yeosangie said I get to be your first day buddy.” Proudly, he straights up and places his hands on his hips. There's a sweet little beauty mark under his left eye. “So, Jung Wooyoung, Chocolatier Apprentice, at your service, boss!”

“Mr. Park.”

“Huh?”

“You call me Mr. Park, and you can kiss goodbye to speaking casually on shift.”

“Oh. Okay. A-Also I’m not going to kiss anyone goodbye, Mr. Park, I promise.”

Seonghwa’s brows pull together. “It’s just a turn of phrase.” Do they not have expressions on Jeju Island? What a strange place.

Wooyoung stares at him blankly for a second before bursting into a peal of forced laughter, nervously fiddling with a gold shell necklace upon an unfairly beautiful collarbone. “I-I knew that!”

“O..kay…” Seonghwa says flatly, pushing past Wooyoung to unhook a muted teal apron from the cubby rack and tie it around his waist. "You can start by introducing me to everyone in rank order."

Wooyoung's eyes widen. "I can do that," he says, somehow amazed.

Seonghwa raises his eyebrows. "So do it."

What he doesn't expect is for Wooyoung to straight up grab his hand. In any other situation, Seonghwa would be insulted; he would snatch his hand away, but Wooyoung's hand is broad and secure, grounding him with such conviction. Seonghwa is paralysed, heart thudding in his ears as he's dragged into the workspace where blond mullet is prepping the marble slab with a blow torch. Upon seeing them, he shuts the tool off, straightening up before his eyes fall to Seonghwa and Wooyoung's clasped hands, horrified.

"Wooyoung!" he hisses, pained.

"What?"

"Can you not accost our new boss on the first day?"

"I don't want him to drift off," Wooyoung says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world and neither others seem to have the guts to disagree. He only holds on tighter. "This is Kang Yeosang, our Chocolate Captain!”

“Chocolatier,” Yeosang corrects, bowing deeply to Seonghwa. “It’s really an honour to have someone world-travelled and with so much expertise here. A Korean training in Switzerland; really it’s the stuff of dreams.”

“It’s not as glamorous as it might seem on the outside,” Seonghwa stresses, also giving a small bow back. “What’s your tenure, Mr. Kang?”

Yeosang seems surprised at being spoken to so formally. “Ah, I’ve been at Lune for a year and a half now… before that, two years self-taught and four years of Culinary Arts at INU.”

It’s a relief to hear, in all honesty. Yeosang will need to step up to continue the standard Seonghwa sets after he leaves. “Have you had any work experience on the mainland?”

“Briefly. Internships and then as an apprentice for six months before I moved to Jeju. A-Also I have my own streaming channel where I teach people the fundamentals and how to make desserts once a week.”

“Do you enjoy teaching?”

“Yes, sir.”

Seonghwa is impressed, though he doesn’t let it show on his face. “I’ll just be shadowing today, so please continue as any normal day and pretend I’m not here.”

“Yes, Mr. Park,” Yeosang bows again, activating the blow torch once more with a heavy woosh.

Their next stop is out of the workspace and towards the front counter, where tall puppy dog is dialling in the hissing and steaming espresso machine. A quick look around his station shows that he is ill-prepared for a morning rush. “This is Jeong Yunho, Gift Box Wrapper-man and Coffee Extraordinaire!” Wooyoung introduces and Yunho looks up, then down to where Seonghwa’s hand is, distressingly, still being held.

Yunho leans forward with a sympathetic look, lowering his voice. “Did he bite you already?”

“What?” Seonghwa blanches. “No!” Like clockwork, Wooyoung jerks forward and Seonghwa flinches back to avoid being bitten on the shoulder. Hand finally freed, he rubs it sorrily against his chest.

“He does that. Wooyoung, go bother Jongho or something,” Yunho orders, flicking his chin in the direction of outside where bowl cut and spectacles is making final touches to the customer tables with small pots of fresh flowers.

“I’m Mr. Park’s first day buddy!” Wooyoung huffs.

“Well, go be Mr. Park’s first day buddy somewhere else.”

“But--” Wooyoung opens his mouth like he’s about to put Yunho in his place but catches himself and snaps his lips into a tight line, then stalks away grumpily.

Yunho catches Seonghwa’s gaze, eyes widening in a silent gesture of weariness. He exudes reliable older brother energy and Seonghwa appreciates that he has no qualms about being the domain master of his half of the shop. “Sorry if he bothers you too much; he’s one of Mr. Kim’s charity cases, I think.”

Seonghwa wipes off a bit of dust underneath the espresso machine with a finger. “How do you mean?”

“He just walked in off the street one day, no experience, nothing, and Mr. Kim hired him on the spot. I think he’d been selling fresh fish to market vendors but was very insistent he wanted a ‘real human job’,” Yunho explains, using finger quotations for emphasis.

“A real human job?” Seonghwa repeats. Jeju really is a bizarre place. “What could be more human than catching fish?”

“Beats me. Apparently the old man’s got the gift because they started calling him the Chocolate Whisperer back there.”

“Chocolate Whisperer?” Seonghwa blinks. “How so?”

“You’ll see.”

After some investigating, Seonghwa discovers he’s the eldest of the crew, which eliminates any potential awkwardness when it comes to bossing them around. Only Wooyoung, oddly enough, doesn't seem to be able to pinpoint his own birthday, though being ‘at least older than Jongho’ is the hill he’s willing to die on.

Finally, there's Jongho. Who apparently is such a big fan of Seonghwa’s that he can barely string together a coherent sentence without either bursting into nervous giggles or excusing himself and running in the direction of the bathroom. This is a new phenomena to Seonghwa because he’s never had fans outside of his fifteen thousand followers on Instagram. In Europe, he’s almost always guaranteed to be the least experienced in the room while it’s he who bolts to the restroom, starstruck over being in touching distance of the likes of Johannes Bachhalm, Marijn Coertjens and Denise Acabo. And he definitely hasn’t had to deal with stans on the level of Hongjoong and UNDERWORLD’s large and very passionate fanbase, the Shades.

When doors open, Seonghwa discovers that Yunho is perfectly prepared for the morning rush because there is no rush. There's about five regulars for take away and two active tables. It's so unbusy that the local radio over the shop speakers can be heard with perfect clarity.

It seems that the gift boxes are the store's bread and butter, with the chocolatier's making product to order and Yunho packing assortments out front. These get stacked in a tall pile for a gruff old courier to come and collect just before lunchtime. Other than that, there's not much interest in customers expressly coming to Lune to sit down, have a drink and try a bonbon. A consistent stream of tourists come in but most of the time, they’re just asking for directions or use the bathroom and don’t purchase anything. From an interior design perspective, the space is lovely and chic with a living wall at the back of the customer area which doubles as an instagram photo op. And yet it's still not enough to convince people to stay awhile.

Seonghwa watches on from the workspace, creating a mental checklist of improvements which need to be made.

Most importantly, the workspace is covered in faded post-it notes with Mr. Kim's methods. They hit all the basics, sure, but there's plenty of contemporary processes that can be introduced to make everything more efficient and consistent.

Second, he needs to hold a tempering workshop as soon as possible. Yeosang clearly has the most experience with chocolate but lacks confidence and it's created a trickle down effect with the others. They also retemper far too often than should be acceptable, leading to tons of waste.

Third, the product. Seonghwa is shocked to find the callets the chocolatier's use have a lower than average percentage of cocoa butter. Sure, the result is edible, but leaves a sub-optimal product with a gritty texture and waxy feel on the palette. Again, maybe this was passable in the 70's -- passable for Jeju -- but not under Park Seonghwa's roof. Add on some marketing and just maybe they’ll start filling tables.

This is what I’m being paid to do, after all, he reminds himself.

As the chocolatiers busy themselves, Seonghwa's sharp eye catches onto something wrong and he picks up a thermometer, walking over to the bain marie where Wooyoung is melting a large metal bowl of callets. "You might need this," Seonghwa says in a soft voice, as to not embarrass him.

Wooyoung glances over, sees the thermometer and then waves a vague hand. "No thanks."

"No thanks?"

"I don't need it."

Seonghwa is stunned speechless. In his five years working, spanning multiple countries, he has only ever seen one or two chocolatiers not using a thermometer. Both of them were more than fifty years old, having worked with the same type of chocolate every day of their careers. "Don't be so proud," Seonghwa says, irritated.

Wooyoung locks onto him, his black eyes confident and honest. "I'm not being proud. I don't need it."

Fine. Seonghwa scoffs and places down the thermometer with a thunk atop the aluminium counter. He takes out his ire on Jongho instead, correcting his posture and technique until Seonghwa is satisfied with an improvement.

Wooyoung hums a tune as he arrives back at the marble slab, pouring far too generous an amount onto the surface. Seonghwa glares, mouth pulled into a thin line. A classic move for too-brazen amateurs, he's leaving himself very little room for error. It’s too predictable: he'll cool down his temper too much, break crystal five, and have to start all over again. Wooyoung stares down at his liquid chocolate fondly, manoeuvring it around the marble like his own private ballet, then scrapes the chocolate back into the bowl, stirs a few times then nods, happy with himself.

"Here you go, Yeosa--"

"Now hold on just a moment," Seonghwa interrupts, intercepting the metal bowl.

"What's wrong?" Wooyoung asks, quite fearful.

"I'm just checking it," Seonghwa mutters, giving the chocolate a couple of stirs. The shininess is nice enough. Then he retrieves a fresh palette knife, coating the end with a small amount. In less than a minute, it sets, a near perfect glossiness, popping off the knife in one snappy piece. "What?" Seonghwa whispers. How?!

"The Chocolate Whisperer," Yeosang sighs, rolling his eyes. He reaches over for the bowl to start filling moulds with. "I'm sure he cheats somehow. Got a laser thermometer in that little necklace or something?"

Wooyoung grabs a hold of the shell around his neck protectively. "It's not cheating! Mr. Kim says I have a gift and I should use it for a good cause," he pouts, widening his stance like he's ready to go to war.

Handsome, assertive and a freakish natural talent for confectionary making?

Seonghwa's jealous. Wooyoung’s got it all.

Somehow, after experiencing fourteen hour days in hectic European kitchens, Seonghwa’s never felt more exhausted than when trading ends on his first day at Lune. Yunho’s got his closing routine down to an art, leaving at five minutes past six with a surfboard under his arm. Not rostered on for close, Wooyoung announces to everyone that he is going to check out the local charity shop like it’s the most monumental thing anyone in the history of the universe has ever done.

With an amused snort at Wooyoung’s departure, Seonghwa trudges out the back door, flopping against the brick wall of the alleyway and finds refuge in a cigarette perched between his lips. Shoulders loosen with the immediate sense of relaxation with the first draft.

“-- Hades’ friend.”

Seonghwa freezes, a chill running through his veins. Voices from the workspace are wafting out of the fly screen door. He inches closer, craning his neck to listen better.

“What?”

“Park Seonghwa is Hades’ friend.” Jongho’s voice. “I thought so when I first saw him but I just double checked. It’s definitely him.”

“Hades? What are you talking about?”

“The band I like,” Jongho says with desperation. “My other bias, Hades. He’s Mr. Park’s childhood friend! You know, Aphrodite.”

Seonghwa scoffs through his teeth.

“Is that why you’ve been acting weird around him all day?” Yeosang tuts.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive!”

Seonghwa blows out a tall column of smoke. So, not even his own peers are fans of his. No, all he’s good for is being a throughline to a famous rapper. Well, if that's how it's going to be, fine, he nods to no one, coming to a firm decision: to hell with respect. These Seogwipoian chocolatiers better get ready, because he’s going to work them relentlessly until Park Seonghwa, Master Chocolatier, says they’re good enough.

“Lune will be the best goddamn chocolate shop in all of Korea in three months, mark my words,” Seonghwa says through grit teeth, flicking his cigarette but to the ground and crushing it under his heel.

He pushes back into Lune, flimsy fly screen door banging against the adjacent wall. Yeosang and Jongho both jolt in fright around the workspace and then continue cleaning at double speed.

“Mr. Kang, Mr. Choi. Do you have plans tomorrow night?” Seonghwa asks.

The two chocolatiers glance at each other. “Yunho and I are going to the cinema,” Yeosang answers.

“Not anymore,” Seonghwa declares, bending over to wash his hands under the sink. “Tomorrow night everyone is staying back for a tempering workshop.”

“But--”

“Mr. Jeong included.”

“He’s just the barista,” Yeosang splutters.

“He’s a part of the Lune family, is he not?” Seonghwa says, collecting his belongings from his cubby. “It’s important he knows the process just as much as the chocolatiers.” A pause. “Am I understood?”

“Y-Yes, boss,” Jongho blinks.

“Yes, Mr. Park,” Seonghwa corrects.

“Yes, Mr. Park,” Yeosang and Jongho echo in unison.

Seonghwa pulls his lips into a tight line, nodding. “Good. See you around the slab tomorrow.”

He leaves, storming down the street like a man with a purpose until he’s at least two blocks away, where he stumbles to a stop, throwing a hand to his head. “I can’t believe I just did that,” he whispers, shakily pulling out his phone. Seonghwa opens up the Kakao Taxi app, only to be greeted with the message: Kakao Taxi is not available in this area yet. Would you like to be notified when it is? The area around Jeju City is lit up but the rest of the island is barred in red. Because of course it is.

“Why, Hongjoong,” he laments to the sky, “of all the places in Korea, why here?”

Hongjoong looks up at the starry sky in Paris, seeing the Arc de Triomphe in the distance, glittering under the moonlight. “I hate it in Seoul,” he admits. “The smog, the people, the constant pull and demand to be ‘on’. Jeju… Seogwipo, it’s just small and quiet and the sea is always there and I just feel… like I can be me. I don’t have to answer to anybody here, and I can be as imperfect as I want. I can think, I can … I can recover there. Maybe… I think it’d help you too.”

Seonghwa snorts, lighting up a cigarette with a flick of his wrist. “There’s no way in hell I’m ever living in Seogwipo, Jeju.”

Seonghwa rubs his temples. Maybe a walk isn’t such a horrible idea. He’s going to need to learn the layout of the city, at the very least around the vicinity of Lune. A welcome chill is sweeping through the street as Seonghwa wanders up the promenade, following signage pointing him to a town square.

And then it starts spitting rain.

Seonghwa clicks his tongue, looking up at the sun glaring through a small amount of cloud cover. He picks up the pace in the direction of the hotel but the rain only increases. Figuring it’s a passing shower, he ducks into a convenience store. The air conditioning inside is somehow too cold, especially since he’s already damp. Seonghwa shakes droplets through his hair with a sigh. Then, he lets out a hopeless little chuckle.

I wish I could say this is worse than my first day at Läderach’s, but…

“Maybe I’m just a misfortune magnet,” he finishes off the thought.

It’s been years since he’s had any Korean snacks outside of the care packages Hongjoong and his bandmates would send him. And after all, why not? Why shouldn’t he have a treat after his first day at a new job? While Seonghwa decides if he wants something savoury or sweet, there’s a sad little sniff from the other aisle. After a pause, it happens again, this time followed by a despairing whine. Curious, Seonghwa walks around the aisle, eyes widening to see--

Wooyoung?

One arm crossed over his front and the other pushing a finger into a temple is Wooyoung, very seriously studying the instant ramen selection. “Kka-leu-bo-na-la,” he spells out slowly before his face falls, absolutely baffled by the pink square packet staring back at him. It’s that which makes Seonghwa’s heart do something very odd: catching in his chest, a ripple of warmth flooding over his damp skin. With a small smile, Seonghwa steps forward to come just behind Wooyoung.

“Carbonara.”

“Lachimonlala?”

“No, Carbonara. It's based off a type of pasta dish.”

“Ah.” Wooyoung nods slowly, mouth wide as he glances over his shoulder. Then again. “AH!”

“Hello Mr. Jung,” Seonghwa greets, taking an appropriate step back. “Shopping for dinner?”

“I feel so lost,” Wooyoung mumbles, once he's recovered from the shock. “I don’t know what any of these words mean!”

Seonghwa tilts his head. It was hard to get a read on Wooyoung back at the shop other than the way he laps up information with stars in his eyes, a seemingly bottomless amount of enthusiasm for, well, everything. Almost like he's experiencing real life for the first time.

“Did you have strict parents?” Seonghwa guesses. Wooyoung nods sadly and Seonghwa can see there’s a second beauty mark on his bottom lip as well. Cute. “Well, if you want my recommendation… you can’t go wrong with Nong-Shim Ramyun, or any of the Samyang Buldak flavours, those are these ones with the little chicken character on the front.” Seonghwa explains, pointing out the appropriate packets. “But if you want something that really hits the spot, this tonkotsu ramyun or - ah! The topokki ramen.” Seonghwa retrieves a bright red cup noodle and holds it out.

Hesitating, Wooyoung takes it, holding the ramen as one might do to a precious jewel. “Topokki?”

“They didn’t even let you eat tteokbokki?” Seonghwa gapes, hand falling limp by his side. What kind of parents.. He straightens up, looking around. “Well, in that case…” He grabs a second cup of noodles then sets off towards the fridges, picking off some single portions of shredded American cheese, ramen eggs and a sprig of fresh spring onion. “Mr. Jung, pass that here, please.”

Wooyoung passes back the cup noodle he’s been holding onto like a lifeline. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to teach you how to eat ramyun correctly.”

Once it’s been paid for, along with some strawberry milk, Seonghwa leads Wooyoung back to an unoccupied table, where rain gently pelts against the heavily branded window. Wooyoung watches, spellbound, as Seonghwa demonstrates how to put the dry tteokbokki and noodle sachets into the cup, followed by the seasoning, then how to use the hot water machine to fill the cup right to the line.

“Watch out for the water, it will burn you,” Seonghwa warns. Wooyoung nods his head violently in agreement. After the ramen cups sit in the microwave for a few minutes, they head back to the table, sitting across from each other. “So, you can just eat it like this,” Seonghwa explains, carding damp bits of hair off his forehead, “but if you really want to eat ramen like a pro, then add this egg and the cheese.” He does it first, then gestures for Wooyoung to follow, who does diligently. It's heartwarming to see that he pays attention and doesn't need much instruction. “Finally…” Seonghwa sanitises his hands, then breaks apart small pieces of spring onion, sprinkling it into each of their cups. “En Guete!”

“Woah…” Wooyoung blinks, clearly choking up with emotion. “You’re really nice, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa’s heart skips a beat.

“I’m not,” he disagrees, making a face. He reaches for a pair of wooden chopsticks, using them to mix and coat the noodles evenly with the toppings. Very eager, Wooyoung is already trying to scoop a tteokbokki towards his mouth. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Wooyoung yelps, the tteokbokki falling off his tongue and back into the cup. “Ah, it hurts!”

Seonghwa sighs deeply, retrieving one of the strawberry milk cartons and giving it a little shake. He pops the top with the straw and hands it to Wooyoung. “Drink this.” He watches as Wooyoung sucks down the milky salve gratefully. Finally, he looks up, bottom lip wobbling.

“I’m terrible at this.”

“At what?”

“This! Life! All of it,” Wooyoung laments with a great sense of despair. He looks so small and sad that Seonghwa wants nothing more than to scoop him up into a hug and stroke his soft hair. “I can’t even eat ramyun correctly. Why am I even here? Why did I think I could do this?”

“Things just take practice, Mr. Jung,” Seonghwa says, pinching a tteokbokki at the ends of his chopsticks, blowing on it gently. He pops it into his mouth and chews. “You should never give up after the first try.”

The fiftieth or hundredth time maybe, he thinks, while standing in the wake of countless failed confessions.

“You really mean that, Mr. Park? Is that how you got so good at making chocolate?”

“Sure. I practiced my culinary school entrance exam dish into the early hours of the morning every day for weeks. I experimented and failed over and over until I eventually perfected the technique.” His heart clenches, remembering those late nights and early mornings with Hongjoong, who stayed up with him every week, making the Secret Love Heart dessert until Seonghwa was confident with it. “‘You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.’”

“Wow, that’s really poetic, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa chuckles. “No, not me. Maya Angelou said that.”

Perhaps I should start taking my own advice.

Wooyoung considers it seriously. “I was taught to crush failures like your enemies, a swift blade through the chest.” He does the motion, flinging a curled fist outwards.

“Is that so?” Seonghwa smirks, raising a brow.

“Yes,” Wooyoung sighs, slumping back into his seat and poking at his ramen.

“Well, you can’t crush chocolate with a blade, unfortunately,” Seonghwa jokes. “You’ll have to learn to temper with patience and grace like the rest of us peasants.”

Wooyoung’s pretty gaze widens, hand clasping around the shell pendant of his necklace. “I-I understand.”

"And I'm keeping everyone back tomorrow after work for a tempering workshop, so don’t go making any fun plans."

There's the stars in his eyes again. "Can I attend? Oh, please, Mr. Park, I would be so honoured."

Seonghwa allows a small, brief smile to coax his lips upwards. “Very well, Mr. Jung.”

The rain has passed by the time they’ve finished their meal and Seonghwa ensures that all of their garbage is appropriately disposed of before they leave the convenience store. After they say their goodbyes, Wooyoung beams, waving wildly, not seeming to care that he attracts attention from passers by. Seonghwa gives a small wave back, still unsure of how to feel about this peculiar coworker. Most curious of all, he finds it difficult to come up with any negative feelings at all.

Wooyoung is loud, unapologetic and a whole carnival's worth of fun wrapped up into one small human being.

Seonghwa won’t be in Seogwipo for long, but at least with Wooyoung around, it won’t be boring.

.·•✦º·´

The sun has dipped below the horizon when Seonghwa makes it back to his suite, flipping the door hanger to do not disturb. The room has been made up, curtains open and a window cracked, letting in the distant roar of the ocean. It makes him anxious, so he crosses the room to shut the blackout curtains, blocking out the ‘gorgeous view’.

“How many times did I ask for a mountain view room,” he mumbles to himself.

Toeing his shoes off, Seonghwa leans his forehead against the cool wall, air conditioning rolling over him from above. This humidity is going to kill him. Gathering up enough energy for a shower, he turns around and stops dead.

There, sitting on the bed and dressed like he’s about to walk Seoul Fashion Week is Hongjoong, his hair longer and with a stylish undercut. A satisfied smirk comes to his lips, apparently enjoying watching Seonghwa struggle to process the sight in front of him. Slowly, Hongjoong gets up from the bed and crosses the room to give him a friendly pinch on the side. A rash of German expletives leaves Seonghwa and Hongjoong throws his head back to laugh.

“Hongjoong?!”

“Surprise~!” Hongjoong tilts his head, somehow becoming even more handsome since the last time they met. The music videos just don't do him justice.

Seonghwa crashes into a hug, pulling Hongjoong’s small frame against him. Small hands wind around his back in a firm, reciprocated embrace. “I want to cry,” he whimpers.

“You can cry if you want,” Hongjoong whispers, holding on tighter, but as soon as he’s given permission to, Seonghwa’s tear ducts dry up. It’s been like this for years, like his body turned off the function; like it’s some kind of defence mechanism.

There’s no crying in chocolate, after all.

“I missed you so much, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa sighs, pulling away and running a hand through his hair. His fingers catch through a knot and he freezes. “Oh my god, I must look like shit.”

“You look fine, Hwa,” Hongjoong smirks, plonking back down on the end of the bed. His dark eyes take Seonghwa in, an oddly hopeful look on his face. He seems… entranced.

Seonghwa shifts nervously, trying to focus on anything but his first love’s face. Hongjoong’s jewellery is painstakingly chosen, but the one constant has always been a silver ear cuff that is dotted with gorgeous, high-grade topaz, finished with another beautiful drop of topaz dangling from a sparkling chain. He’s always wanted to touch it, let the chain dangle over his fingers, but just like always, he’s a coward who can’t go the distance.

“You scared the shit out of me just then,” Seonghwa manages to say, throat a little raw.

“Let me take you out to dinner as an apology, then.”

Seonghwa blinks wide, reminded of the bizarrely sweet dinner he had with Wooyoung. “Actually… I’ve already eaten.”

Hongjoong’s shoulders drop slightly. “Really? Where?”

“Ah...” Seonghwa’s chest clenches with guilt and he fiddles with the diamond star hanging from his ear. “At the convenience store?”

“The convenience store?” Hongjoong half slips off the bed, catching himself. He walks forward, touching a soft hand to Seonghwa’s forehead. “Are you feeling alright? Are you ill?”

“I’m fine,” Seonghwa bats his hand away.

“No, seriously, you’re bright red,” Hongjoong points out, mouth parted in a small ‘o’. “Even the tips of your ears.”

God, I’m actually going to die of embarrassment.

“I bumped into one of my coworkers and he was having trouble deciding on what to eat, so I…” Seonghwa steps back, desperately trying to force down the weird smile that keeps creeping onto his face. Why is he so affected by this? Like he has to justify himself to Hongjoong? “He’s the chocolatier apprentice at Lune-- he’s quite talented-- and I think he’s also new to Seogwipo, so, I just... I wanted to be a good sunbaenim. That’s all.”

Seonghwa intakes a deep breath, feeling somehow light-headed but also like the world is crashing down on him. There’s a flutter in his chest, a lightness on his feet. A painful dichotomy of being so filled and yet so empty. Hopefulness and negativity in equal parts. He swallows over a lump in his throat, eyes widening.

What is this emotion?

“... Hwa?”

Why is Hongjoong looking at him like that? With the same look he had five years ago when Seonghwa said he would be leaving for Switzerland.

“S-Sorry, I’m feeling, um…” Seonghwa runs a hand through his sticky scalp again. “It’s been a long day. Stay with me tonight, Hongjoong?”

Hongjoong seems a little disoriented, but after a moment he steps forward, taking Seonghwa’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. “Park Seonghwa, are you inviting me for Netflix and chill?” he asks, a wry smile on his lovely lips, and yet there is a resigned sadness behind his eyes.

“Any recommendations?”

“The Little Mermaid?”

Seonghwa blanches.

“Just kidding,” Hongjoong laughs, gently nudging him. “Come on, go shower and I'll get something set up.”

Once Seonghwa is washed and moisturised, he joins Hongjoong on the bed in his pyjamas. They curl up amongst the pillows, Hongjoong with the remote in his small hand, having settled on Descendants of the Sun. Being here with him, there’s a greater sense of comfort, and yet-- and always-- the unspoken, invisible wall between them; their elephant in the room.

Hongjoong glances over, shy as he says, “I’m glad you’re here, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa is fast asleep before the opening credits finish rolling.