이승호 you're so 90s

with her hat tugged low and a mask to cover her face, she had been waiting for seungho. when she spotted him, she waved him over before shaking her head at his question. "i only got here a few minutes ago myself." if they were like any other couple, she would've grabbed his hand right away, tugged him closer, but there was always a part of her who was scared of what others may see.

his gaze drifted to her phone as she searched for the ramen shop. he couldn't decide whether that made him a little sad for her or proud of how much of her life she'd built somewhere else. the corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile anyway. "aight, now we gotta find this ramen spot. i need to see where you used to hang out."

there was something else sitting behind his teeth. it had been there for weeks. every time they'd found a quiet moment together, he'd think, 'now is the time,' then there would be staff or schedules, even fans. and now they were here in tokyo, her city; if he was going to ever ask her, if he was going to say those words he'd been rehearsing over and over until they stopped sounding like language, he wanted it to belong to a memory neither of them would ever misplace. he didn't want the moment to keep running away from him.

when he gets closer, she gently starts wrapping up his gash, trying her best to make sure it doesn't do any more harm. mihyang's been taught the basics from the mother, and she's treated many wounded scholars before, but the scale of his cut was a lot more grandiose than she's ever experienced. just what on earth had he been fighting?

"won mihyang," he repeated at length, savoring the manner in which her name rested on his tongue, "now you have seen me. and i see you."

with a gulp, she wonders what she got herself into for a moment. she's always been an advocate for not judging anybody until she's had a moment to speak to them, but she couldn't deny that she was a bit scared of what may happen.

"the doors to our home are always open. my father's rules," she explains with another gentle smile, hoping that it calms him down if he was planning on harming her in any way. mihyang glanced down at the seal that slipped from his sleeve. was that blood? what exactly has she gotten herself into?

but even as he closed his eyes for a heartbeat, his exhaustion lingered, and finally it outweighs his pride. with a grunt, he approaches her slowly, dragging himself into the small circle of light where she waits with her cloth and her terrifyingly open heart. "fine," he extends his arm with a grimace. the gash along his forearm was weeping a sluggish crimson. souvenir from a ministry blade. "mend it, then, if your conscience demands the burden. but be quick, i have no desire to see what happens when your father finds a wolf in his attic."

hearing  the  streak  of  curses  spill  from  the  other  male's  mouth  was  by  no  means  an  unfamiliar  experience  for  haru,  though  it  still  poked  at  and  tested  the  sterile,  pedantic  sensibilities  he  was  raised  to  uphold.  haru  could  barely  remember  the  last  time  a  single  obscenity  had  crossed  his  own  lips,  let  alone  possessing  the  ability  to  be  so  remarkably  fluent  in  the  raw,  unapologetic  cadence  that  seungho  wielded  like  a  second  language.  in  a  strange  way,  that  was  exactly  what  made  existing  within  seungho's  chaotic  orbit  so  undeniably  liberating,  even  if  his  mother  would  have  not  felt  the  same  way.

"i  try  to  be,  but..."  haru's  lips  pressed  into  a  thin  line  and  a  quiet,  noncommittal  hum  vibrated  in  the  back  of  his  throat.

"i don't know what's going to happen. honestly? nobody does…"

the door to the won's house was always pretty wide open. something about how they had to be welcoming to everybody were her father's words, but she just thinks it's becaus they can't seem to say "no" to anybody. need a place to rest? they'll let you sleep for a night. need some food? here's some tteok.

did mihyang love it? not really, but it's not like she had any say in what goes on in the won household.

despite all that, however, this is a new experience for herself. when she heard a slight rustle toward the attic of her home, mihyang thought it was probably a bird building a nest or a stray cat. what she didn't expect to find was a person. she thinks she's seen him around town before, but she can't put a name to the face.

she doesn't even get the time to think either because there's ruckus toward the gates of her home. she looks down and signals for him to stay quiet before heading out. "what may i do for you?" she offers them her warm smile as they explain that they're chasing a thief. ran off with something of value—the words are muffled in her ears as all she can think about is that there's a very high chance the man in her attic is very much this so-called thief.

"i haven't seen anybody like that around here. i suggest you try looking around the square? there are many paths with dead-ends," she suggests. a sigh of relief leaves her lips as she watches them walk away from her home.

he finally laughed. he was unaccustomed to the delicate honorifics of a house like this. "you've been 'involved' since the moment your father or husband decided a lock was an optional decoration for a front door, my lady." he bowed. seunghcheol usually did not waste motion on grace, but something in him told him to.

"those men at your gate aren't looking for a thief. partly. they're looking for a scapegoat to pin a century of administrative failure on, and i happen to be very, very good at looking guilty." his gaze averted vaguely toward the open lattice window, where the scent of plum blossoms was trying (and failing) to mask the metallic tang of his own desperation.

regardless,  haru  harbored  a  quiet,  corrosive  doubt  that  he  was  remotely  built  for  whatever  mold  they  were  trying  to  pour  him  into.

he  let  out  a  sigh,  soft  and  fraying  at  the  edges,  and  shifted  his  weight  on  the  sand.  "you  don't  have  go  that  far...  it's  a  risk  i'm  willing  to  take.  if  they  confiscate  my  e-reader,  then  so  be  it."

he  wanted  to  steer  the  conversation  back  to  safer,  shallower  waters,  but  seungho's  final  words  hung  heavy  in  the  salt  air,  and  he  could  not  find  it  within  himself  to  not  acknowledge  them.

"that  might  be  easy  for  you,"  haru  began,  his  voice  a  low  murmur  that  barely  carried  over  the  waves.  "but  for  me..."  he  trailed  off,  the  sentence  dissolving  not  from  an  unwillingness  to  speak,  but  from  a  fundamental  inability  to  string  words  together  into  a  coherent  sentence.

who  am  i?  who  do  i  want  to  be?  who  should  i  be?

"look at you," seungho says, low-slung, he's talking to haru like they're two idiots sharing a cigarette behind a convenience store, not two products being polished for a lens. "if you get any tighter, you're gonna snap and take an eye out."

he kicks a spray of sand toward haru's shoes and then simply leans back on his elbows, looking up at the sky. he lets a string of words fly that would make a harbor master blush, a foul-mouthed cadence that is somehow the most honest thing on this entire beach. he'll wreck ball his aim at the 'mold' haru is so scared of.

there are specific things jaeyi remembers about seungho— it surprises her that she still does. 2026, new year’s party, she’s about to fetch drinks for the friends she’s with only to catch him on guard at the drink station. her throat is tight. it’s from guilt, of course; something a less tipsy version of herself wouldn’t let her feel, so she soaks up all of it now.

jaeyi, too, soaks up the image of him. she remembers his eyes. his overgrown fringe, how she used to brush the strands of hair away. they end up in the same company, because life works out in funny ways, but she’s always kept a distance from him. it’s a struggle to differentiate what she’s allowed to do and what not to do with seungho.

he's standing by the drinks, mostly because it's the only place he can look busy without actually talking to anyone. the bass is thumping through the floorboards, a rhythm that usually feels like a heartbeat but tonight just feels like a headache. then she's there. jaeyi. the girl who ghosted him with a text that was shorter than a grocery list. "hey..." seungho looks at her, then down at the cup she slides toward him. it's a peace offering, right? she asks what he's feeling, and honestly? he's feeling like an actor who forgot his lines.

no wonder she's slipped out into the balcony for a breath of fresh air. when she hears the door click open, she almost wants to ask for more privacy, but then she hears seungho's voice and her tensed up muscles naturally relax. "thanks," she says as she takes the cup from him.

"yeah," he says. his voice is a hum, heavy with a brand of melancholy that usually doesn't come from deungho. "this is a lot." his arm finds the ledge behind her. it's not a hug, he'd probably file a legal brief if caught arguing that it's definitely not a hug, it's just a boundary. a structural reinforcement. a wall. "you did well," he says. he's staring at the city lights now, his jaw tight enough to crack a tooth, like he's physically swallowing the next three sentences he isn't brave enough to say.