ℳ⋆.˚

backpacks shoved in the trunk, seatbelts clicked in, snacks passed around, the shared excitement of the road trip ahead was at its very peak. you’d left town roughly an hour ago, home long gone, only the long winding roads ahead of you. 

the space in the van was tight, especially with 9 of your friends packed inside - but you didn’t mind. after all, you were just excited for the drive. the idea of a friend group road trip had been in discussion for months, the thought thrown out during the winter when everyone missed the sun. and now it was summer, and the trip had finally started.

the 10 of you had decided to travel through japan and across the countryside, to the lake campsite that you all used to visit as kids. the excitement of visiting a childhood vacation haunt pumped through your veins.

the weather was perfect this summer, bright blue sky and not a single cloud in sight. your window was open just enough for the cool breeze to hit your face, a well needed refreshment from the heat of the packed van. the song playing on the radio was drowned out by the sounds of yuma & nicholas bickering over snacks, and fuma complaining about the possibility of running out of gas. luckily, you were sat by the back window, with jo quietly sitting next to you, absorbed in his own world as he sketched the passing scenery.

---

you had known jo for the longest time out of everyone in the friend group. he had always been painfully quiet and timid, the kind of person that rarely talked. and even when he did, barely anyone could hear him because of how soft-spoken he was, words barely reaching the people he was speaking to. the others teased him for it constantly, and jo shyly laughed along every time. you always found it cute.

you were pulled from your thoughts when your friends started bickering.

“gimme the damn snacks, dude.” nicholas whined, reaching across to snatch the bag from yuma. the two guys bickered even more, insisting on ‘one more bite’ of this or ‘two more’ of that.

“shut it back there, you two!” kei yelled from the front passenger seat, shooting a glare at the pair. “yuma, just give nicho the bag.”

“your greed sickens me.” he had muttered whilst passing the bag to nicholas - who had a smug, shit-eating grin on his face.

this was going to be a long drive.

---

the group had made it a few more hours before the tank ran out, a spewed string of curses escaping from under fuma’s breath as he pulled into the service station. you were just glad you had a chance to stretch your legs. 

once parked, you all piled out of the van, splitting off into smaller groups - some heading to the bathroom, some rushing to the small store in the middle to refill on snacks. you watched the boys disperse, your eye catching jo’s lanky figure as he strolled into the souvenir shop. you followed maki and yuma into the store, unable to ignore your stomach growling.

after rinsing your bank account, you haul the heavy plastic bag of food back into the van, jo rushing over to help you.

“i got you.” his soft voice called, big hands taking the snacks from you.

“thanks, jo.”

“you’re welcome,” he muttered, reaching into the pocket of his pants. “i, um… i actually bought something for you just now.”

you watched in curiosity as jo pulled a small keychain from his pocket. it was a delicately sculpted picture frame, a tiny image of the view by the lake painted beautifully in the middle. the bright colours of blue, brown and green shone in the sun’s reflection as it dangled from the silver chain.

“jo, it’s so beautiful, thank you.” you took it from him carefully, admiring the miniature artwork. it truly was beautiful.

“it reminded me of you a lot, so i wanted to give it to you,” he confessed, his ears a pale shade of pink. “i’m glad you like it.”

the two of you share a quiet, meaningful look before a voice interrupted.

“everyone back inside! we’re heading back on the road!” kei called from the window, his hand beckoning you in. jo coughed awkwardly, stepping back from you.

“we better get back in.”

---

the air inside the van was warm, almost too warm, especially with how packed you all were. the heat was especially worse in the back row, where you, jo and taki sat.

wanting to sleep it off, you rest your head against the cool glass of the window, succumbing to unconsciousness rather quickly. you had been up for a while.

as the trip continued, the roads twisting and turning, the movement caused your body to lean into jo’s, your head pressed gently against his shoulder. the abrupt touch from you pushed the blood to his ears, spreading down the sides of his neck. he thought you looked adorable like this, fast asleep against him, hair sticking to your forehead, lips soft and pouted. jo felt like he couldn’t tear his gaze from you - not that he even wanted to.

at least not until taki picked up on the situation.

“pfft, get a room.” he whispered teasingly into jo’s ear, elbow making contact with his ribs. jo sighed, shaking his head.

“it’s not like that. she just fell asleep.” jo whispered back, careful not to turn too much as to disrupt your slumber. 

“you’re blushing.” taki pointed out, chuckling as his finger poked jo’s cheek. jo gave him a small glare.

“be quiet, taki. i don’t want you to wake her up.”

“what, so you can keep her on your shoulder?” taki teased, smirking at how quickly jo turned flustered. “real slick, hyung.”

“cut it out.” jo quietly begged, letting out a sigh of relief when taki went on his phone. not only because he was finally shutting up, but also because deep down he knew that taki was right.

---

you were awoken by the excited chatter of the others, your head lifting to look out the window, the familiar sight of the lake came into view, nostalgia washing over you like a remindful breeze.

“finally, we’re here.” jo muttered, watching you rub your eyes. “my back aches so bad.”

eventually everyone piled out of the van, bags draped over shoulders, conversations loud and full of anticipation. the site next to the lake looked the same as it did when you were a kid, tents set up and a small bonfire pit waiting to be lit. everything felt perfect.

you were all quick to drop your bags, pulling shirts and shoes off and jumping into the water, needing to escape the humidity. against your skin, it was a cool contrast to the unforgiving heat of summer.

maki and fuma swam out to the deep middle whilst the rest of you stayed by the dock, conversing and occasionally splashing each other, laughter filling the air. you noticed how happy jo seemed in the moment, the water glistening on the pale skin of his chest as he bobbed in the water. you struggled to pull your eyes from his sweet smile, the way his dark hair swept over his face.

---

once the group had finished dinner and the hot sun had finally set, everyone gathered around the bonfire to roast marshmallows - as you did when you were all kids. long conversations reflecting on childhood memories, recalling funny moments, it felt the same way it did all those years ago. it felt happy, it felt right.

gradually people found their way back to their tents, saying their goodnights before going to bed. eventually it was just you and jo, your knees brushing against his each time you leant forward to roast another soft marshmallow.

“you like the pink ones, huh?” jo asked, his voice low as he passed another one to you.

“mhm, they’re my favourite.” you replied, your hand brushing his when you took the stick. you didn’t miss how his breath hitched at the contact.

the two of you sat there quietly, the faint crackle of the flames being the only sound heard. the silence was somewhat comfortable. it always was with jo.

he was the first one to break the silence, clearing his throat as he turned to face you.

“um, i want to talk to you about something.” jo said, voice shaky. “i’ve been meaning to for a while.”

“go ahead, jojo.” you urged. jo’s nervousness seemed to double, his hands trembling as they adjusted the collar of his shirt.

“okay. well, um…” he whispered as if he didn’t want you to hear him. “the truth is that i like you. i have for ages. years, i think.”

you sat there in shock. the tips of jo’s ears were vibrant red at this point. he had never laid his feelings out like this to someone before, and it was terrifying. despite this, he continued.

“i’ve wanted to tell you since the beginning, honestly. watching you mess around with the others, seeing you smile, hearing your voice, just everything about you made me want to open up about my feelings, but i’ve always been too shy.”

as he spoke, your hand found his on the bench, a quiet form of reassurance.

“i really like you. you’re funny, beautiful, thoughtful, the whole package. and i know i’m not as outgoing and fun as the others but i really want a chance with you.”

the silence stretched longer than jo expected, and his thoughts started to spiral. had he just embarrassed himself? had he ruined his friendship with you? did you not like him back?

“i’m sorry if this is too sudden… it just felt right and i needed to get it out before i went crazy.”

“no, it’s okay, jo. don’t apologise. i’m glad you told me.” 

your reassurance eased jo’s nerves almost immediately, but the worry that you didn’t feel the same still lingered.

“i need to know how you feel about me too. even if it isn’t what i want to hear.” he begged, his hand tightening around yours subconsciously. his eyes stayed on your expression like a hawk, trying to read your feelings.

“to be honest, i’ve felt the same for a while. i just never said anything in case it ruined our dynamic. i’m happy that you like me back, jojo.”

jo was speechless for a moment, your words replaying in his head. you like him too.

“r-really? you do?” was all he managed to stutter out. you nodded, laughing at his surprised expression.

“wow… we were both pretty oblivious then, huh?” jo said, his hand squeezing yours again. for once, it felt like he was struggling to contain his emotions he so usually managed to keep under control. “does this mean, uh, that you’d want me to be your boyfriend?”

“if you’re ready for that.”

jo’s face lit up, and he nodded immediately. the moment he’d spent years dreaming of was finally happening.

“yes, please.”

his lips found yours soon after, moving slowly, careful not to hurt or startle you. he was always oh so gentle when it came to you. you kissed him back with the same need and desperation. 

it felt like fireworks were exploding in your stomach with how excited and happy you were like this, with jo’s lips finally on yours.

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backpacks shoved in the trunk, seatbelts clicked in, snacks passed around, the shared excitement of the road trip ahead was at its very peak. you’d left town roughly an hour ago, home long gone, only the long winding roads ahead of you. 

the space in the van was tight, especially with 9 of your friends packed inside - but you didn’t mind. after all, you were just excited for the drive. the idea of a friend group road trip had been in discussion for months, the thought thrown out during the winter when everyone missed the sun. and now it was summer, and the trip had finally started.

the 10 of you had decided to travel through japan and across the countryside, to the lake campsite that you all used to visit as kids. the excitement of visiting a childhood vacation haunt pumped through your veins.

the weather was perfect this summer, bright blue sky and not a single cloud in sight. your window was open just enough for the cool breeze to hit your face, a well needed refreshment from the heat of the packed van. the song playing on the radio was drowned out by the sounds of yuma & nicholas bickering over snacks, and fuma complaining about the possibility of running out of gas. luckily, you were sat by the back window, with jo quietly sitting next to you, absorbed in his own world as he sketched the passing scenery.

---

you had known jo for the longest time out of everyone in the friend group. he had always been painfully quiet and timid, the kind of person that rarely talked. and even when he did, barely anyone could hear him because of how soft-spoken he was, words barely reaching the people he was speaking to. the others teased him for it constantly, and jo shyly laughed along every time. you always found it cute.

you were pulled from your thoughts when your friends started bickering.

“gimme the damn snacks, dude.” nicholas whined, reaching across to snatch the bag from yuma. the two guys bickered even more, insisting on ‘one more bite’ of this or ‘two more’ of that.

“shut it back there, you two!” kei yelled from the front passenger seat, shooting a glare at the pair. “yuma, just give nicho the bag.”

“your greed sickens me.” he had muttered whilst passing the bag to nicholas - who had a smug, shit-eating grin on his face.

this was going to be a long drive.

---

the group had made it a few more hours before the tank ran out, a spewed string of curses escaping from under fuma’s breath as he pulled into the service station. you were just glad you had a chance to stretch your legs. 

once parked, you all piled out of the van, splitting off into smaller groups - some heading to the bathroom, some rushing to the small store in the middle to refill on snacks. you watched the boys disperse, your eye catching jo’s lanky figure as he strolled into the souvenir shop. you followed maki and yuma into the store, unable to ignore your stomach growling.

after rinsing your bank account, you haul the heavy plastic bag of food back into the van, jo rushing over to help you.

“i got you.” his soft voice called, big hands taking the snacks from you.

“thanks, jo.”

“you’re welcome,” he muttered, reaching into the pocket of his pants. “i, um… i actually bought something for you just now.”

you watched in curiosity as jo pulled a small keychain from his pocket. it was a delicately sculpted picture frame, a tiny image of the view by the lake painted beautifully in the middle. the bright colours of blue, brown and green shone in the sun’s reflection as it dangled from the silver chain.

“jo, it’s so beautiful, thank you.” you took it from him carefully, admiring the miniature artwork. it truly was beautiful.

“it reminded me of you a lot, so i wanted to give it to you,” he confessed, his ears a pale shade of pink. “i’m glad you like it.”

the two of you share a quiet, meaningful look before a voice interrupted.

“everyone back inside! we’re heading back on the road!” kei called from the window, his hand beckoning you in. jo coughed awkwardly, stepping back from you.

“we better get back in.”

---

the air inside the van was warm, almost too warm, especially with how packed you all were. the heat was especially worse in the back row, where you, jo and taki sat.

wanting to sleep it off, you rest your head against the cool glass of the window, succumbing to unconsciousness rather quickly. you had been up for a while.

as the trip continued, the roads twisting and turning, the movement caused your body to lean into jo’s, your head pressed gently against his shoulder. the abrupt touch from you pushed the blood to his ears, spreading down the sides of his neck. he thought you looked adorable like this, fast asleep against him, hair sticking to your forehead, lips soft and pouted. jo felt like he couldn’t tear his gaze from you - not that he even wanted to.

at least not until taki picked up on the situation.

“pfft, get a room.” he whispered teasingly into jo’s ear, elbow making contact with his ribs. jo sighed, shaking his head.

“it’s not like that. she just fell asleep.” jo whispered back, careful not to turn too much as to disrupt your slumber. 

“you’re blushing.” taki pointed out, chuckling as his finger poked jo’s cheek. jo gave him a small glare.

“be quiet, taki. i don’t want you to wake her up.”

“what, so you can keep her on your shoulder?” taki teased, smirking at how quickly jo turned flustered. “real slick, hyung.”

“cut it out.” jo quietly begged, letting out a sigh of relief when taki went on his phone. not only because he was finally shutting up, but also because deep down he knew that taki was right.

---

you were awoken by the excited chatter of the others, your head lifting to look out the window, the familiar sight of the lake came into view, nostalgia washing over you like a remindful breeze.

“finally, we’re here.” jo muttered, watching you rub your eyes. “my back aches so bad.”

eventually everyone piled out of the van, bags draped over shoulders, conversations loud and full of anticipation. the site next to the lake looked the same as it did when you were a kid, tents set up and a small bonfire pit waiting to be lit. everything felt perfect.

you were all quick to drop your bags, pulling shirts and shoes off and jumping into the water, needing to escape the humidity. against your skin, it was a cool contrast to the unforgiving heat of summer.

maki and fuma swam out to the deep middle whilst the rest of you stayed by the dock, conversing and occasionally splashing each other, laughter filling the air. you noticed how happy jo seemed in the moment, the water glistening on the pale skin of his chest as he bobbed in the water. you struggled to pull your eyes from his sweet smile, the way his dark hair swept over his face.

---

once the group had finished dinner and the hot sun had finally set, everyone gathered around the bonfire to roast marshmallows - as you did when you were all kids. long conversations reflecting on childhood memories, recalling funny moments, it felt the same way it did all those years ago. it felt happy, it felt right.

gradually people found their way back to their tents, saying their goodnights before going to bed. eventually it was just you and jo, your knees brushing against his each time you leant forward to roast another soft marshmallow.

“you like the pink ones, huh?” jo asked, his voice low as he passed another one to you.

“mhm, they’re my favourite.” you replied, your hand brushing his when you took the stick. you didn’t miss how his breath hitched at the contact.

the two of you sat there quietly, the faint crackle of the flames being the only sound heard. the silence was somewhat comfortable. it always was with jo.

he was the first one to break the silence, clearing his throat as he turned to face you.

“um, i want to talk to you about something.” jo said, voice shaky. “i’ve been meaning to for a while.”

“go ahead, jojo.” you urged. jo’s nervousness seemed to double, his hands trembling as they adjusted the collar of his shirt.

“okay. well, um…” he whispered as if he didn’t want you to hear him. “the truth is that i like you. i have for ages. years, i think.”

you sat there in shock. the tips of jo’s ears were vibrant red at this point. he had never laid his feelings out like this to someone before, and it was terrifying. despite this, he continued.

“i’ve wanted to tell you since the beginning, honestly. watching you mess around with the others, seeing you smile, hearing your voice, just everything about you made me want to open up about my feelings, but i’ve always been too shy.”

as he spoke, your hand found his on the bench, a quiet form of reassurance.

“i really like you. you’re funny, beautiful, thoughtful, the whole package. and i know i’m not as outgoing and fun as the others but i really want a chance with you.”

the silence stretched longer than jo expected, and his thoughts started to spiral. had he just embarrassed himself? had he ruined his friendship with you? did you not like him back?

“i’m sorry if this is too sudden… it just felt right and i needed to get it out before i went crazy.”

“no, it’s okay, jo. don’t apologise. i’m glad you told me.” 

your reassurance eased jo’s nerves almost immediately, but the worry that you didn’t feel the same still lingered.

“i need to know how you feel about me too. even if it isn’t what i want to hear.” he begged, his hand tightening around yours subconsciously. his eyes stayed on your expression like a hawk, trying to read your feelings.

“to be honest, i’ve felt the same for a while. i just never said anything in case it ruined our dynamic. i’m happy that you like me back, jojo.”

jo was speechless for a moment, your words replaying in his head. you like him too.

“r-really? you do?” was all he managed to stutter out. you nodded, laughing at his surprised expression.

“wow… we were both pretty oblivious then, huh?” jo said, his hand squeezing yours again. for once, it felt like he was struggling to contain his emotions he so usually managed to keep under control. “does this mean, uh, that you’d want me to be your boyfriend?”

“if you’re ready for that.”

jo’s face lit up, and he nodded immediately. the moment he’d spent years dreaming of was finally happening.

“yes, please.”

his lips found yours soon after, moving slowly, careful not to hurt or startle you. he was always oh so gentle when it came to you. you kissed him back with the same need and desperation. 

it felt like fireworks were exploding in your stomach with how excited and happy you were like this, with jo’s lips finally on yours.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ taglist: @byudai @nichozzystuffs @yumangel @seanidas @preachersdaughterx @stxrrymarsz @ssosstrange @7yataki @makizdoll @minhosimthings @starshuas @leewayout @xionvlog @smidare @fumaid @deersui @solairemelo @hironoshimura @dedlexte @yukiglow @someonerandom909 @99zspider @aurorrramal

ꫂ᭪݁ if you want to be tagged in my future works, send an ask or comment under this post ་༘࿐

In latin, they call it 'mel'. In sanksrit they used to say 'kancan', very similar to the welsh 'canecon'. Either way both denote a golden-yellow colour, obviously to show the colour of sweet honey.

Sweet and golden, the perfect way to describe honey.

Or love.

They're both the same thing, sweet, golden, sticky, permanently staining. Things to warm the heart and soul during winter.

Love is all those things.

Sweet like the first bite of a ripe grape, golden as the dying sun on a summer evening, sticky like connecting threads of saliva after a kiss, permanently staining as…..well, as love. Things to warm the heart and mind during all seasons.

You could make a connection of all those things to Euijoo too.

Would it be logical to say the honey of your life instead of the conventional love of your life?

The rain outside seemed to have its own rhythm, a gentle percussion against the vast glass panes of the apartment windows.

You were curled into the corner of the oversized sofa, a thick, knitted blanket pooling around your lap—the one you and Euijoo had bought on a whim at a flea market, laughing at its garish mustard-yellow color. It was ugly and it was perfect and, most importantly, it was yours.

Your book rested in your hands, the spine cracked open to some chapter about forbidden meetings along a riverside in the monsoon. The words blurred pleasantly as your mind wandered, relishing the quiet of the evening.

The rain traced silver rivers down the glass and the city lights beyond smeared into soft, glowing constellations. It was the kind of stillness that felt other-wordly, something that only gods and deities were worthy of keeping forever in a locked snowglobe.

You heard your husband before you saw him—the soft shuffle of his feet on the hardwood, the quiet sigh of someone waking from slumber.

Euijoo emerged from the hallway, his hair slightly mussed, his pajama shirt untucked and wrinkled. They were the same ones you'd bought for him last winter, patterned with tiny, ridiculous bees. You'd claimed it was ironic. He'd claimed it was destiny.

He didn't say a word. He simply padded over, lifted the edge of the blanket and slid in beside you. His warmth seeped into your side like sunlight through a window. His arm looped around your waist, his cheek pressing against your shoulder. You could smell the faint trace of sleep on him, mixed with the clean scent of their shared laundry detergent.

You set the book down, letting your fingers drift into his hair. He hummed, a low, contented sound that vibrated against your ribs.

"Couldn't sleep?" You whispered.

"Mm. Woke up and the bed was too big." He murmured, his voice thick and drowsy. "You know I can't sleep without my love by my side."

You smiled, the word settling in your chest like something warm and golden. The rain kept falling, a silver curtain beyond the glass, much like it had the night before your wedding.

The memory of that night was engraved into your brain—how the sky had cracked open with a fury that seemed personal, as if the universe had decided to test your resolve.

You had stood at the window of your old apartment, much smaller than this one, watching sheets of water batter the street, your heart racing with such ridiculous, panicked thoughts: What if the storm doesn't stop? What if no one comes? What if we have to cancel?

You had been pacing, wringing your hands when Euijoo found you. He had walked up quietly, placed his warm palms on your shoulders and pressed his chin to the top of your head.

"Tell me what you're thinking about, my love." He had said, his voice calm as still water.

"I'm thinking about the rain." You had whispered back, your throat tight. "What if it doesn't stop by tomorrow? What if we have to cancel? What if—"

Euijoo had turned you around gently, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones. His eyes, dark and steady, held yours.

"Then we get married in the rain." He had said simply.

You had blinked at him. "Euijoo we can't just—"

"Can't we?" A small smile had tugged at his lips. "You know, knots are harder to open when they're wet. So if we tie the knot in the rain, it'll be even harder to undo. That sounds like good luck to me."

You had let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, a laugh escaping despite all the muddled up thoughts still enveloping your mind. He had pulled you into his chest and you had listened to his heartbeat drowning out the storm.

And now, here you were, years later, in a bigger apartment with bigger windows, the same rain falling, the same man wrapped around you. But he was still awake, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your hip, his breathing not quite settling into sleep.

Then one eye peeked open, glinting in the dim light from the window.

"Still awake?" You murmured.

Your husband hummed, nuzzling deeper into your shoulder. "Can't sleep. The rain's too loud tonight." His voice was a sleepy mumble against your collarbone. "Talk about something. Anything. Your voice makes me feel safe."

You thought about it for a while, the words forming slowly in your mind like condensation on a cold window. Your fingers continued their gentle path through his hair, tracing the familiar shape of his skull, the softness of his nape. The rain outside had softened to a murmur, as if it too was leaning in to listen.

You thought about how far you had come.

The person you were before Euijoo felt like a stranger now, someone you remembered the way you remember a dream upon waking.

Vivid at the edges, fading at the center. She had been sharper, maybe, more guarded. She had carried her loneliness like a shield, polished and proud, never realizing it was also a cage. She had laughed, yes, but sometimes the laughter had a hollow ring, like a bell with a crack in it.

Euijoo had loved her—loved you—in a way that demanded nothing from you but asked everything.

To be seen. To be known. To let the walls crumble, even if it meant standing in the open, trembling and exposed.

To love is to change.

You had learned that slowly, painfully and beautifully.

To love is also to let go.

To love is to abandon the parts of yourself that no longer serve the life you are building together. The pride that kept you from asking for help, the silence you used as armor, the habit of expecting the worst because it hurt less than hoping for the best.

You had let them go, one by one, like releasing balloons into a grey sky. And in their place, something new had grown. Patience, tenderness, a willingness to be soft.

But sometimes, late at night, when the rain fell and the world was quiet as the dead, you wondered about the parts you had released.

Did they miss you? Did you miss them?

And so the question came from somewhere deep and honest.

"Do you ever grieve the person you were before you met me?"

Words as fragile as spider silk. Euijoo was silent, though he hummed softly to let you know he heard your question. That was always Euijoo, always letting you know his love quietly and softly.

Like honey.

"Interesting choice of words." Euijoo said, tracing a pattern on your skin with his finger absentmindedly, "Do I ever grieve the person I was…."

You hummed. You did mean to use that word.

Because grief, you realised, was also made of honey.

Honey is amber—the color of memory, of old photographs, of sunlight trapped in resin. It is aged, not in the way that things spoil, but in the way that things deepen.

Raw honey, straight from the comb, is liquid and golden and runs freely.

But leave it long enough and it crystallizes. It thickens. It becomes something else entirely—still sweet, still honey but transformed. The crystals are proof of time passing, of molecules rearranging themselves into a new kind of permanence.

What is grief if not the crystallization of love after time has passed through it?

The sweetness remains, but it is no longer runny, no longer easy to pour out. You have to scoop it, spread it and let it melt on your tongue with patience. It catches in your throat sometimes, a sweetness so thick it almost chokes you.

And honey preserves.

That is its oldest magic. The ancient Egyptians buried jars of it with their dead, believing it would sustain them in the afterlife. Archaeologists have found honey thousands of years old, still edible, still golden and still sweet.

Grief does the same. It preserves the person you were, the person you loved as well as the person you have become. It embalms the memory in something golden which does not rot, something that can be opened years later and still taste of the past.

But honey is also sticky.

It clings to everything it touches—your fingers, the counter, the rim of the jar. You cannot touch it without being marked by it.

Grief is the same.

It adheres to the inside of your ribs, to the backs of your eyelids, to the spaces between your words. You carry it with you, even when you think you have wiped it clean. A residue of sweetness and ache, of something that simply refuses to be fully removed.

Despite all of this, honey is still sweet.

It is still, at its core, a gift from the bees and insects who gathered nectar from a million flowers and transformed it through their own bodies into something greater than the sum of its parts.

Grief, too, is a transformation. It is love that has been processed through the body of time, changed but not diminished.

So yes, you thought, as the rain continued its gentle song and your husband breathed softly against your shoulder.

Grief is also made of honey.

Amber and aged and crystallized and sweet—a preservation of what was, a sweetness that lingers, a stickiness that reminds you that you have loved and been loved and changed because of it.

And you waited, your hand still in his hair, your heart open and listening for whatever answer he would give.

Euijoo was quiet for a long moment. The rain filled the silence, a soft and steady rhythm against the glass and you felt his breathing shift against your shoulder—a slow inhale, a slower exhale, as if he was reaching deep into himself for the words.

Then he spoke, his voice low and rough with sleep and honesty.

"I think about it sometimes." He said. "Not with sadness, exactly. More like.….I look at old photographs of myself and I see…..such a stranger. A boy who filled his days with noise just so he could keep the silence away." He chuckled, a self-deprecating sound, "Doesn't that sound ridiculous?"

His fingers traced a lazy pattern on your hip and you felt the words vibrate through his chest where it pressed against you.

It was your turn to laugh, quiet and fond. "It just sounds really….human."

The rain applauded softly against the windows.

"I didn't know peace could sound like someone turning the pages of a book." His eyes drifted toward the novel resting on your lap. "Or humming while making coffee. Or asking me whether I want the last strawberry even though you already know the answer."

You smiled. "You always want the last strawberry."

"I always want you to have it." A comfortable silence settled again.

"You asked if I grieve him." Euijoo's voice became thoughtful. "The person I was before you." He considered it with the same care he gave everything important. "I don't think I grieve him."

"No?" You asked, though you felt your throat tighten. You pressed your lips to the top of his head, breathing him in.

"I thank him." You looked down at him. "For surviving long enough to meet you."

Your breath caught. Your husband really could be poetic in such moments, as if the sound of the rain outside awakened the inner artist in him.

"He was lonely." Euijoo continued. "He made mistakes. He mistook being needed for being cherished." He smiled to himself. "Poor idiot."

You nudged his forehead gently. "Don't call him an idiot."

"But he was." he laughed softly. "He kept buying plants he forgot to water."

"You still do."

"...I said kept buying them. I never said I stopped."

Another laugh escaped you, mingling with the rain. His expression softened again.

"I don't miss being him. But I respect him." Euijoo said quietly. "Because every bad decision he made somehow became the road that led to our front door."

His hand found yours beneath the blanket, threading your fingers together.

"If I erased him..." He squeezed your hand. "I'd erase every step that brought me here."

The apartment fell into that peculiar kind of silence only lovers understood, the kind that was full of things too complete for language.

Outside, lightning flashed somewhere beyond the skyline, illuminating the rain for only a heartbeat. Euijoo watched it.

"This reminds me of our wedding day." He continued, his voice growing softer, more dreamlike. "The rain had stopped, but the sky was still grey and the air smelled like..…what did you call it again?"

"Petrichor." You hummed. You loved that word so much.

"Slightly hard word I can't pronounce." Euijoo grinned at the sound of your snort of laughter, "I still remember your dress was slightly damp at the hem and there was a tiny leaf caught in your hair. You were so beautiful."

You closed your eyes and the memory bloomed behind your lids like a Polaroid developing.

The grass outside the venue had still been wet. The yarrow and roses had bowed beneath the weight of the rain. The chairs had to be dried one by one with white towels. Your shoes had collected tiny crescents of mud before you even reached the aisle.

Nothing had been perfect and everything had been beautiful.

Your heart swelled. You could see it as though it were happening again. The aisle lined with flowers still jeweled with rain, the soft gasp that rippled through the guests as the doors opened.

Euijoo, standing at the altar, his eyes fixed on you like you were the only solid thing in a world made of water and wind.

You remembered the way his hands trembled, the way he laughed once under his breath because he realized he was crying. And then his voice.

"My love," he'd begun, smiling through tears, "I wrote beautiful promises for today."

"It had a lot of metaphors and poetry because I wanted everyone here to hear how eloquently I loved you."

A ripple of laughter came from the crowd. Then he'd looked at you and the smile had become something so gentle, you could only compare it to the line between the sky and the sea during sunset.

"But right now none of those words feel honest enough."

You remembered squeezing his hands, how warm they were despite the cool air after the storm.

"So I'll only promise you what I know I can keep. When life is ordinary, I will notice it with you. When life is frightening, I will stand where the wind is strongest so it reaches you softer. When you become someone new—as you will, because people are meant to change, I will learn you again.

"Not once. Not only today. Every year, every season, every version of you."

His voice had broken then.

"I don't want the privilege of loving only the easiest parts of you. I want all of them. The frightened ones, the stubborn ones, the joyful ones, the ones that don't exist yet."

He had laughed through another tear.

"If one day you wake up and feel like a stranger to yourself…...please don't worry. Introduce me."

"I'd like to fall in love with you again."

Now, years later, in the warm dark of your apartment, he lifted his head slightly to look at you. His eyes were heavy-lidded, soft and full of that same light they had held at the altar.

"I don't grieve who I was before you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "because he was just a path I had to walk to get here to you. To this. To falling asleep in your arms every night and waking up to your face every morning." Honey dripped down from his tongue, "But I don't think you're the destination, my love. You're the entire journey. You're the road and the sky and home at the end of it."

You laughed, a soft, breathless sound that was half sob, half joy. "You're ridiculous." You whispered, pressing your forehead to his.

"I know." He said and you could hear the smile in his voice. "But you love me anyway."

"I do." You said, the words feeling like a vow all over again. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

Euijoo pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he was trying to memorize the shape of you against him. The blanket rustled and settled around you both, a cocoon of warmth and love.

The rain outside had softened to a gentle patter, a lullaby played on a thousand tiny drums. Your breathing slowed to match his, your eyes growing heavy. The city beyond the windows blurred into a wash of golden lights and you felt yourself drifting, safe, held and loved.

Grief is made of honey—amber and aged and crystallized, preserving what was lost in a sweetness that did not spoil.

Love is made of the same stuff, albeit, a kinder synonym for grief.

Love is the honey that has not yet crystallized.

It is the honey still warm from the hive, liquid and golden and running freely. It is the honey that drips from the comb, that clings to everything it touches, that stains your fingers and your lips and your heart.

It is sweet in a way that makes you close your eyes and sigh. It is sticky in a way that means you can never fully wash it off. It is permanent in a way that defies time, distance and even death itself.

Grief preserves the past.

Love sweetens the present.

And somewhere in between, in the space where rain met window and where two bodies tangled under a garish yellow blanket, there is a third kind of honey.

The honey of a life shared.

The honey of a knot tied in the rain, wet and tight and impossible to undo.

You pressed a final, sleepy kiss to Euijoo's forehead and you felt him smile against your skin.

And as the rain continued its gentle rhythm, you both drifted into a dreamless sleep, wrapped in honey and each other, perfectly preserved in the sweetness of the moment.

For grief and love are made of the same stuff.

There is nothing more to life than to relish the taste.

fin.

A/N: I think I've always held this belief that grief and love are the same thing, especially when you come from a place when you don't receive love freely, it feels like you're just grieving a version of you that can be loved. And when you love so deeply, it's that grief all over again, mourning this confusing feeling that makes you want to curl up in bed. Anyways that's enough poetry for one day

divider by @jjaksclayton

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the first day at your new job, secretary for the ceo of yx technology, was daunting. waking up on monday was daunting, the drive there was daunting. everything about your new job was daunting. even the ceo.

standing in the reception, waiting to be called up by your new employer, your hands shook with nerves. you couldn’t go home now, you were here. your job was important.

“excuse me, ma’am. are you the new hire?” a man called out as he approached you, his tall, sleek presence intimidating. you stand up immediately, nodding.

“i- yes, that’s me.” you stuttered. your nerves were at their peak.

the man smiled, offering his hand to you.

“great. i’m asakura jo, we spoke on the phone. i’ll be your boss starting from today. it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” his voice was incredibly sweet. he was so soft spoken for a man of such power. you shook his hand, his grip was firm. 

“it’s nice to meet you too, sir.”

“let’s start with a tour, shall we?

---

after showing you around the large building, explaining different departments and locations, jo guided you to your desk, which was practically next door to his office.

“this is your stop. i promise you’ll fit right in with our team.” he said, a slim hand squeezing your shoulder. “if you’ve got any worries, come to me, alright? i’ve got you.”

“yes, sir. i will.”

jo smiled, his hand dropping from your shoulder into the pocket of his blazer.

“great. i’ll let you get settled.”

you had nothing to worry about. your boss was a total sweetheart.

---

over the next few weeks, you slowly became familiar with the office, your coworkers, the overall vibe of the company. the job and it’s tasks were challenging, but you managed. jo seemed pleased with your work too. 

he was so sweet to you. he’d make you a cup of coffee every morning, dropping it off at your desk on the way to his. 

“i insist,” he’d say when you felt bad. “the ceo can do things for his employees too.”

jo would give you that warm, welcoming smile each time you’d make conversation, too. it was the highlight of your day, honestly.

it was easy to grow comfortable with your boss. conversations were easygoing, light-hearted, jo’s voice always holding that same soft tone. he’d ask how your day went, if you ate lunch, how your family were doing. every word that came from him made you smile. maybe you were easily swooned, or maybe asakura jo was just a good boss.

---

it was a slow build up. you didn’t notice it at first. but when you did, you couldn’t not notice. 

jo was staring at you. constantly. and every time you’d glance over, your eyes catching his, he’d turn away quickly, busying himself with paperwork or the buttons on the printer. his ears would be bright red every time. it was cute, to say the least. 

you’d always found your boss attractive. that wasn’t something you were going to deny. asakura jo was insanely handsome, and you were sure he knew it, too - but his newfound staring problem made you wonder. did he feel the same attraction to you? was that why he was always staring, being so nice, blushing when you make eye contact?

enough, you’d scold yourself. that’s your boss you’re talking about.

you had to stay professional. you weren’t about to lose your job barely 2 months in. not at a company this successful.

---

late friday evening, you were working over time due to a surge in sells, your schedule packed, meetings to enter into the system, data to report. the office was quiet, maybe four other people were still there. four including jo. he was in his office, door wide open, wide enough that you could see him in your peripheral vision. not like you were staring.

the only sounds in the building were the muffled hum of the air conditioning and the tapping of keyboards.

drying your hands on your skirt, you were just leaving the bathroom when jo called your name.

“sorry to bother you. i know you’re busy.” he apologised, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “i need to speak with you in my office… about your report.”

a rush of nerves swept through you. were you in trouble? was the report not good enough?

“oh, um… yes, of course sir.”

“follow me.”

the walk to his office was short, but it felt like a lifetime. you didn’t know what to expect. jo opened the door, offering for you to enter first. you muttered a quiet ‘thank you’, and walked in. he followed behind, pulling the door shut. you swear you heard the lock click.

before you could get another word out, jo’s large hands found your waist, pinning you against the door. you gasped, but it was swallowed by his lips as they crashed against yours.

his kiss was hungry, ravenous, the way his mouth moved against yours was nothing short of desperate. your shock was quickly replaced with a feeling of warmth, the familiar sensation you got whenever you were in jo’s vicinity. only this time, it was charged with pure erotic heat. this was nothing like the jo you thought you knew. the sounds he made were filthy, his hands sliding down your body, finding their way to the curve of your ass. the touch made you nervous and excited all at once.

“sir, we shouldn’t-”

“shh… let me taste you.” jo mumbled into your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours. “please.”

the kiss only lasted a few more seconds before you pushed him off of you. jo stared at you, eyes glazed over, chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. his lips were slightly swollen, glistening. there was a red flush that spread across his ears and cheeks, all the way to the base of his throat.

“i-i have to go.” 

that was all you said, as you fixed your skirt and unlocked the door. you left the office no more than 5 minutes later.

---

during the weekend after the incident, you’d hoped that maybe jo forgot about what happened. that it was just a spur of the moment kind of thing. but you were wrong. completely wrong.

you could tell jo was thinking about it. the eye contact lasted far longer than it did before, his eyes holding a certain kind of heat that you saw that friday evening too. you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on your body as you walked across the office. it was constant. a constant, obvious reminder that what happened wasn’t a dream. it was real. terrifyingly real.

unbeknownst to you, jo was going insane over what had happened that friday night. over how your lips had felt pressed against his. about the quiet sound you’d let out when his hands touched you. he swore he could still taste your cherry lipgloss. everything about you made him spiral.

it hurt when you rushed out, pushed him away. that wasn’t what jo wanted to happen. he was worried. but he wasn’t oblivious, either - he knew you were avoiding him.

---

it took him 3 days to build up the courage to pull you aside into his office once more. you were hesitant, but eventually agreed.

“listen, y/n…i crossed a boundary last week. a serious boundary.” he started, adjusting his tie. “i just wanted to apologise.”

you took a single step forward, nodding for him to continue.

“i’m extremely sorry. it was stupid, i wasn’t thinking straight. it won’t happen agai-”

he didn’t get to finish his apology before your lips crashed against his. now it was you who wasn’t thinking straight. your hands slid up his chest, cupping the sides of his neck. jo let out a high-pitched sound, his hands grazing your hips. your tongue swiped across the opening of his mouth once, twice, before you pulled back.

“i’m sorry i ran away.” you whispered, forehead pressed against his. “i was afraid. i didn’t want to get in trouble, or risk losing my job.”

jo whined, trying to attach his mouth on yours. the hands on his neck pushed him back gently.

“i thought i had enticed you or something. it felt unprofessional. it felt… wrong. but now i don’t know what to think.”

“you don’t have to.” jo responded, his voice breathless. “don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ve got you. it’ll be our little secret, okay?”

that was all it took. you were an easy woman to convince.

---

after the two of you agreed on your arrangement, the secrets began. the excitement you felt of sneaking around with jo was magnificent. the thrill was electric. the risk was inviting. jo pulling you into the break room to make out, all messy and rushed, walking back out as unsuspiciously as you could. his slim hands finding your hip as he passed you by the printer, a quick wink as he leaves. the flirty texts, asking you to come to his office when the office started to empty out. 

no one ever found out about you and jo, which allowed you to slip into a familiarity of secrecy. it was tiring at times, but as long as you were with jo, you didn’t mind.

what the two of you had was perfect. but a part of you desperately wanted something more. 

---

another late shift, the sun already set, and you were in jo’s office again. you were draped over his lap, legs on either side of his hips, his mouth on your neck. he loved leaving marks just below your shirt collar, a tease at exposure.

“jojo,” you called out, your hands buried in his dark hair. he hummed into your skin, urging you to continue. “i wanna talk about this. about… about us.”

his lips stopped at your words. he pulled back, his sharp eyes meeting yours. 

“i’m listening. what do you want to talk about exactly?”

you swallowed, surprisingly nervous. jo could sense it, his hand squeezing your waist in silent reassurance.

“i just want to know where this is going. if it’s even going anywhere. i’m just… i don’t want to be a work wife or something. just something for you to use when you’re in the office.”

the way jo’s head shook was instant, his expression firm.

“no, my love. that’s not what this is at all. my feelings for you are much deeper than that.” he pressed a small kiss to your cheek. “trust me, i’ve loved the thrill of sneaking around, having a secret just between the two of us. but i don’t want this to be something temporary. i want to be able to show my adoration for you without restrictions. without the fear of being caught or frowned on.”

“me too. i really want that.”

“i’m glad we’re on the same page, my love, really.” another kiss, this time on your jawline. “let me take you out. properly. i’ll book a reservation at the nice restaurant downtown. you won’t have to worry about a thing, okay? i’ll take responsibility for whatever happens.”

“you will?”

“of course i will. anything for you.”

you smiled. jo smiled back.

“now, when do you want that reservation? friday or saturday night?”

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