☕️ 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾 𝒃𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 .ᐟ

the   look   on   beau’s   face—   how   giddy   he   is   about   finally   sealing   the   deal   today,   even   if   it’s   just   in   a   cramped   room   inside   city   hall—   washes   away   the   last   of   tj’s   worries.   he   doesn’t   even   know   why   he   doubted   in   the   first   place,   not   when   they’ve   been   so   locked   in   on   wedding   plans   and   literally   just   talked   about   getting   married   a   few   minutes   ago.   maybe   it’s   the   little   voice   in   his   head,   the   fear   that   beau   might   suddenly   change   his   mind.   but   he   shouldn’t   think   like   that.   not   when   beau   is   right   here,   clinging   to   him   like   always,   peppering   kisses   on   his   cheeks,   his   neck,   wherever   he   can   reach.   all   that   affection…   it   should’ve   been   enough   proof.   but   still—   tj   just   had   to   be   sure.   that   beau   is   really   in   this   with   him.   that   they’re   riding   into   forever,   together.

and   with   that   smile   on   beau’s   face,   that   childlike   grin   that   reaches   his   eyes,   tj   melts.   his   heart   squeezes   in   the   best   way,   and   before   he   can   even   think   about   it,   his   hands   are   already   on   beau’s   waist,   pulling   him   in   closer.   holding   him   like   he   never   wants   to   let   go.   he   smiles   like   a   man   stupidly,   deeply   in   love—   because   he   is.   because   the   idea   of   being   husbands   by   the   end   of   the   day?   god,   he’s   dreamt   of   this   for   so   long.   “   yes,   mahal,   ”   he   chuckles,   giddy,   “   mag-asawa   na   tayo   after   3pm.   ”

when   beau   cups   his   face,   tj   leans   in   without   hesitation,   pressing   quick   kisses   on   his   lips.   one   after   the   other,   barely   pulling   away,   like   he’s   trying   to   memorize   the   feel   of   them.   and   when   he   does   stop,   it’s   only   to   beam   at   him   like   a   lovesick   fool.   they’re   really   doing   this.   they’re   really   starting   forever   today.   and   tj   knows—   no   matter   how   many   lives   he   lives,   he   will   always   choose   beau.   he   will   always   say   yes   to   a   sudden,   simple   wedding   over   a   grand,   expensive   one.   because   being   with   beau   means   more   than   any   reception,   guest   list,   or   buffet   ever   could.   the   venues,   the   decor,   all   of   it   can   wait.   but   this?   this   moment   is   theirs.   and   it’s   perfect.

“   ako   ba   ‘yung   naiimagine   mo   na   nasa   dulo   ng   aisle   every   time   mag-practice   ka   mag-walk   down   nung   bata   tayo?   ”   he   teases,   gently   poking   beau’s   chin,   his   grin   playful.   they   share   another   kiss—   slower   this   time—   before   pulling   away,   tj   nodding   at   beau’s   instructions   with   a   soft,   “   okay,   love,   ”   letting   him   call   shiloh   and   milo   to   serve   as   their   witnesses.

“oo,  tapos  yung  ringbearer  natin  si  cookie  monster.”  beau  said  with  a  laugh.  he’d  always  loved  tj.  wordlessly,  instinctively.  it  was  like  muscle  memory.  like  breathing,  as  if  his  soul  had  already  recognised  tj  long  before  he’d  been  old  enough  to  understand  why.  before  the  world  could  teach  him  doubt,  before  fear  could  make  him  hesitate.  there  were  people  you  met  and  grew  fond  of.  and  then  there  were  people  like  tj—people  you  were  born  knowing.  like  deja  vu  in  human  form.  like  a  home  you’d  never  lived  in  but  somehow  remembered  the  layout  of,  down  to  the  creak  in  the  floorboards. as  a  child,  beau  had  always  been  a  little  too  dreamy  for  his  own  good.  he  liked  imagining  alternate  endings  for  bedtime  stories  and  plotted  entire  futures  during  recess.  he’d  sit  cross-legged  in  the  grass  and  declare,  with  the  earnestness  only  a  seven-year-old  could  muster,  that  he’d  live  in  a  blue  house  with  a  white  fence  above  the  hill,  with  ten  dogs  and  his  best  friend  and  a  garden  full  of  daisies.  he’d  force  his  friends  into  pretend  weddings—dragging  ant  into  playing  the  priest,  convincing  blair  to  throw  paper  flowers,  and  enduring  tj  and  shiloh’s  exasperated  eyerolls  like  it  was  a  noble  sacrifice.  and  every  time,  when  it  came  to  imagining  who  stood  at  the  end  of  the  aisle,  beau  never  even  had  to  think.  it  was  always  tj.  his  best  friend.  the  person  he  trusted  most,  whose  presence  had  always  felt  more  like  fate  than  coincidence. in  their  teenage  years,  it  all  changed...  and  yet,  it  didn’t.  everything  remained  the  same.  same  inside  jokes.  same  long  conversations  stretched  out  under  the  stars.  but  then  one  morning,  without  warning,  the  world  tilted.  it  was  their  same  morning  routine.  but  when  beau  looked  at  him  that  day,  something  clicked.  he  was  in  love.  but  what  did  he  do  with  that  kind  of  feeling?  nothing.  he  tucked  it  away.  hid  it  and  carried  on.  because  the  risk  felt  too  great.  because  losing  tj  felt  too  unbearable.  he’d  rather  have  him  like  this—halfway,  platonically—than  not  at  all.  he  convinced  himself  it  was  enough.  he  learned  how  to  love  without  asking.  and  now,  sitting  here,  years  later,  beau  wondered  what  he’d  been  so  afraid  of.  because  if  he’d  always  known,  if  tj  had  always  been  written  in  him…  then  maybe  tj  had  known  too.  maybe  they’d  just  spent  too  long  pretending  not  to  look.

beau  hadn’t  even  noticed  the  slew  of  messages  from  shiloh  piling  up  on  his  phone.  he’d  set  it  to  do  not  disturb  the  moment  tj  started  acting  whiny  and  clingy.  with  tj  finally  slipping  into  the  closet  to  pick  out  clothes,  beau  took  the  moment  to  call  shiloh  back.  “hey,”  he  said  quickly,  voice  still  tinged  with  disbelief.  it  still  felt  unreal,  this  thing  they  were  doing.  “wait.  free  ka  ba  ngayon?  okay.  good.  kasi—”  he  told  shiloh  about  their  spontaneous  decision.  about  the  papers,  the  officiant,  the  location.  the  only  thing  they  still  needed  were  witnesses—and  they’d  thought  of  only  two  people.  “but,  please,”  beau  had  added  gently,  “satin  satin  lang  muna  'to.”  shiloh  agreed,  though  beau  could  hear  the  pause  in  his  voice,  the  delay  between  one  breath  and  the  next  when  he  realised  milo  would  be  the  other  witness.  beau  didn’t  say  anything  more.  as  much  as  he  loved  them—both  of  them,  even  when  they  were  being  stubborn—he  didn’t  have  the  space  in  his  chest  to  care  about  whatever  tension  lingered  between  his  friends.  not  when  he  was  getting  married  today.

tj   can   only   blink   as   he   registers   the   way   beau’s   eyes   practically   explode   at   the   news.   like—   genuinely   explode.   wide,   shocked,   almost   scandalized.   it’s   honestly   kind   of   funny.   he   watches   the   disbelief   paint   across   his   face   and   just   shakes   his   head,   letting   out   a   short   laugh   under   his   breath.

so   he   really   didn’t   know.

tj   had   assumed   piper   would’ve   at   least   mentioned   it.   the   fact   that   they   were   here,   standing   in   the   luxury   house   of   a   top-tier   idol   from   lumin8,   because   she   not   only   designed   the   whole   place   but   also—   surprise—   yohan   apparently   has   a   little   crush   on   her.   but   nope.   not   a   word   from   her.   which,   okay,   fair.   that   does   say   something   about   piper’s   loyalty.   she   could’ve   spilled   it,   bragged   a   little   even,   but   she   didn’t.   yohan   trusted   her   enough   to   say   it   in   confidence,   and   she   kept   it.

and   well…   tj   does   love   a   little   gossip.   especially   if   it’s   about   his   co-members.   he   doesn’t   mean   any   harm   by   it—   it’s   just   in   his   nature.   the   difference   is,   he   genuinely   thought   beau   already   knew.   that   this   was   common   knowledge   by   now.   guess   not.   he   tries   to   suppress   his   grin   as   he   nods   when   beau   suggests   looking   for   a   nearby   coffee   shop.   but   then—   then—   tj   catches   something   that   almost   makes   him   physically   glitch.

there.   on   the   back   of   beau’s   phone.

it’s   his   face.

or   more   specifically,   a   photocard.   a   selfie.   one   tj   knows   he   took   for   printing   because   he   remembers   cropping   it,   remembers   thinking   was   this   too   much   skin?   (   the   answer   was   probably   yes.   )   it’s   the   one   where   his   neckline   dips   just   a   little,   enough   to   tease   a   bit   of   chest.   and   it’s   sitting   right   there.   on   beau’s   phone.   he   tries   to   keep   his   reaction   casual,   but   inside,   tj   is   spiraling.   this   isn’t   the   first   time   he’s   seen   fans   use   his   photocards   as   phone   decor—   he’s   done   enough   fansigns   to   get   used   to   it—   but   this   isn’t   just   anyone.   this   is   beau.   beau.

beau,   who   once   asked,   without   looking,   “   is   this   seat   taken?   ”   in   a   crowded   school   library,   pointing   to   the   empty   chair   beside   tj   without   realizing   who   he   was   talking   to.   and   tj,   already   halfway   in   love   with   him   by   then,   just   nodded   silently,   trying   not   to   panic.   he   remembered   sitting   there,   heart   thudding   stupidly   in   his   chest,   not   turning   a   single   page   of   his   book   for   the   next   thirty   minutes   because   beau   was   right   there.   close   enough   to   hear   the   rustle   of   his   notes,   to   catch   the   smell   of   his   cologne,   to   memorize   the   little   crease   in   his   brows   as   he   studied.

beau   never   remembered   that   day.   but   tj   never   forgot.

so   yeah.   seeing   his   photocard   on   the   back   of   beau’s   phone—   it   feels   different.   like   something   small   and   intimate   and   real.   and   maybe   tj’s   reading   too   much   into   it,   but   he’ll   allow   himself   this   one   little   moment.

“five  minutes  by  car  siya.”  beau  answered.  he  checked  the  location,  opened  maps,  refreshed  the  route  twice  just  in  case.  five  minutes,  if  they  drove.  and  if  they  walked,  that’d  be  twice  as  long.  maybe  thrice,  if  they  strolled.  so...  that  was…  what?  twenty  minutes  of  walking  side  by  side  with  tj.  twenty  minutes  of  trying  to  act  normal.  of  pretending  he  wasn’t  losing  his  mind  with  every  step.  of  convincing  his  lungs  to  keep  working,  convincing  his  heart  not  to  leap  right  out  of  his  chest  and  explode  in  the  middle  of  the  street.  although—if  it  did,  if  his  heart  failed  on  him  right  here  and  now,  beau  thought  he’d  die  a  happy  man.  surprisingly  enough,  there  were  worse  ways  to  go  than  walking  next  to  tj  under  the  sweltering  heat  and  semi-polluted  air. “we  can  walk,”  beau  said,  smiling.  this  felt  like  something  that  would  happen  in  a  fever  dream  or  a  scene  from  one  of  those  dramas  he  liked  to  bingewatch.  there  should’ve  been  background  music  playing  and  sakura  petals  falling  from  the  sky.  because  being  able  to  spend  time  with  tj,  casually,  felt  unreal.  this  is  his  chance  to  talk  more  with  tj,  to  laugh  with  him,  maybe  even  share  a  pastry  if  the  opportunity  arose  and  he  didn’t  choke  on  his  nerves.

and  maybe—they  weren’t  idol  and  fan  anymore.  not  right  now.  with  piper  and  yohan's  weird  thing,  maybe  he  would  be  seeing  more  of  tj.  he  couldn’t  help  it—couldn’t  stop  the  way  his  brain  whispered  possibilities,  reckless  and  starry-eyed.  if  this  hangout  (but  also  maybe  a  date,  his  traitor  of  a  mind  chimed)  went  well,  then  maybe  by  the  end  of  it  they’d  be  friends.  real,  honest-to-god  friends.

and  wasn’t  that  fucking  wild?

as   confused   as   tj   was—   by   the   tears,   by   the   look   in   beau’s   eyes   that   always   seemed   to   be   searching   for   something   he   couldn’t   name—   he   never   once   dared   to   push   him   away.   never   demanded   answers.   never   asked   why   beau   was   suddenly   holding   on   to   him   like   he   was   going   to   disappear   again.   in   his   mind,   this   was   all   still   part   of   the   ache   they’d   both   carried   for   over   a   year.   the   guilt.   the   regret.   the   damage   they’d   done   and   the   healing   that   never   quite   came   easy.

for   tj,   it   was   the   guilt   of   choosing   wrong—   of   hurting   beau   in   the   worst   possible   way.   for   beau…   it   was   leaving.   walking   away.   and   though   tj   never   blamed   him   for   that,   not   once,   he   understood.   beau   had   every   right   to   do   what   he   needed   to   heal.   every   right   to   put   himself   first   after   the   mess   tj   made.   and   when   things   got   too   heavy,   too   overwhelming,   tj   understood   why   he   left.   he   respected   it.

but   tj   stayed.   through   it   all,   through   the   ache   of   being   left   behind,   he   stayed.   waited.   and   he’d   keep   waiting   for   as   long   as   beau   needed   him   to.   because   in   tj’s   eyes,   that’s   what   love   looked   like.   that’s   what   he   deserved   to   do—   to   wait,   to   be   patient,   to   be   there.

it   had   been   a   lonely   year.   quiet,   hollow,   painful.   and   not   a   single   day   passed   that   tj   didn’t   feel   the   sting   of   regret   in   his   chest.   he   replayed   it   constantly—   the   way   things   ended,   the   way   he   let   the   silence   with   nico   linger,   when   it   should’ve   ended   long   before   it   had   the   chance   to   ruin   everything.   he   should’ve   gone   after   beau.   should’ve   booked   a   flight   to   japan   the   second   he   realized   what   he   was   about   to   lose.   should’ve   shown   him—   not   just   said—   that   his   love   was   real,   and   he’d   do   anything   to   fix   the   damage.

but   the   past   was   the   past.

and   tj?   tj   wasn’t   that   same   boy   anymore.   he   spent   a   whole   year   becoming   someone   better—   someone   beau   could   be   proud   of.   he   was   still   the   tj   beau   fell   in   love   with,   but   now   with   more   clarity,   more   tenderness.   a   version   who   knew   how   to   listen.   who   thought   before   he   acted,   who   didn’t   speak   just   to   be   heard.   someone   who   put   other   people’s   feelings   before   his   own.   especially   beau’s.

so   when   beau   stirs   awake,   tears   still   clinging   to   his   lashes,   and   his   face   falls   at   the   sight   of   the   empty   bed   beside   him—   tj   sees   it.   the   panic.   the   fear   that   maybe   it   all   really   was   just   a   dream.   that   he’s   lost   him   again.   but   tj’s   not   gone.   he’s   just   in   the   kitchen,   quietly   cooking   up   food   on   the   stove,   preparing   something   soft   and   comforting.   because   he   knows   beau—   knows   how   draining   it   is   to   cry   like   that,   to   mourn   something   that   isn't   really   gone.   knows   he’ll   need   something   warm   to   eat,   something   grounding   to   bring   him   back   to   himself.

his   hand   weaves   through   beau’s   hair,   stroking   softly,   fingers   combing   through   dark   strands   like   muscle   memory.   and   he   stays   there,   letting   beau   feel   the   steady   beat   of   his   heart   against   his   cheek—   silent   proof   that   he’s   real,   that   he   never   left.   that   he   never   will.   “   you’ll   never…   ”   tj   begins   softly,   pressing   his   face   to   beau’s   temple,   his   voice   warm   against   his   skin.   “   you’ll   never   lose   me.   i’ll   always   be   with   you.   everywhere   you   go.   ”

he   pulls   back,   just   enough   to   see   beau’s   face,   and   when   he   sees   the   tears   clinging   to   the   edges   of   his   eyes,   tj’s   heart   twists   all   over   again.   his   thumb   catches   them,   wiping   them   away   with   a   touch   so   gentle   it   makes   beau   close   his   eyes.   of   course.   a   bad   dream.   it   all   clicks   now—   the   desperate   way   beau   clung   to   him,   the   fear   in   his   expression.   he   was   scared   tj   had   left.   that   he   wouldn’t   come   back.   and   tj   can’t   blame   him,   not   after   everything.   he   smiles   gently,   taking   beau’s   hand   and   pressing   it   to   his   chest,   right   where   his   heart   is.   “   i’m   okay.   see?   ”   he   says,   voice   light   but   thick   with   emotion,   chuckling   softly.   “   nararamdaman   mo?   hinding-hindi   ako   mawawala   sayo.   ”

thump.  thump.  thump.

he  felt  it.  the  thudding  pulse  beneath  his  palm.  there  was  heat.  solidness.  the  familiar  rise  and  fall  of  breath  beneath  his  hands.  tj  was  there.  not  just  a  memory,  not  a  ghost,  but  alive.

beau's  mind,  still  swimming  in  disbelief,  couldn’t  catch  up  fast  enough.  and  so  it  was  his  body  that  reacted  first:  exhausted,  confused,  and  starving.  and  then—his  stomach  growled.  beau  winced.  he  hadn’t  eaten  since  yesterday,  hadn’t  felt  hungry  until  now.  because  who  felt  hunger  in  dreams?  who  felt  tired,  or  cold,  or  aching  in  dreams?

but  he  was  here.  heart  pounding  and  throat  dry,  held  together  by  tj’s  arms,  by  the  sound  of  his  heartbeat.  by  something  that  shouldn’t—couldn’t—exist.  yet...  his  body  believed  it,  even  if  his  mind  didn’t.  so  beau  stared  as  tj  led  him  to  sit.  he  didn’t  mean  to,  but  how  could  he  not?  even  as  he  settled  beside  him  at  the  dinner  table,  not  across,  close  enough  for  their  shoulders  to  brush—he  stared.

tj’s  profile  caught  the  yellow-ish  light  of  the  dining  room.  the  sharp  line  of  his  jaw,  his  nose,  the  way  his  eyes  narrowed  slightly  as  he  reached  for  the  rice.  beau  drank  it  all  in  with  the  kind  of  hunger  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  food—like  a  man  starved,  finally  allowed  to  taste  again.  because  he  was  starved.  eight  years.  eight  whole  years  of  looking  at  photographs.  of  rewatching  videos  on  old  phones  and  laptops,  pressing  play  over  and  over  again  just  to  hear  his  laugh  one  more  time,  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  him  alive.  eight  years  of  settling  for  memories  that  faded  faster  each  year.

the  real  tj  was  here,  skin  and  breath  and  pulse  and  present.

beau  blinked,  tore  his  gaze  away  only  long  enough  to  scoop  rice  onto  his  plate.  he  moved  slowly,  cautiously,  like  even  the  sound  of  the  spoon  scraping  against  the  ceramic  might  be  enough  to  break  the  illusion  and  send  him  hurling  back  to  wherever—whenever—he  was  meant  to  be.  the  garlic  rice  was  hot,  freshly  made.  golden  bits  clung  to  the  grains.  it  smelled  like  home.  he  reached  for  the  eggs—sunny  side  up,  the  yolk  just  a  little  runny,  just  the  way  he  liked  them.  had  tj  remembered  that?  had  he  ever  forgotten?  then,  he  took  a  slice  of  chorizo,  cut  it  carefully  into  neat  little  coins,  and  added  it  to  his  plate.  his  spoon  moved  on  instinct—rice,  egg,  sausage,  everything  in  one  bite.

and  then—he  tasted  it.

god.  it  was  good.  so  good  it  nearly  knocked  the  breath  out  of  him.  not  just  because  of  the  flavours,  but  because  it  tasted  like  memory.  like  the  mornings  they  used  to  share.  like  breakfasts  with  bare  feet  brushing  beneath  the  table.  like  love,  tucked  into  every  grain  of  rice,  every  sliced  chorizo  and  mugs  of  hot  cocoa.

tears  pricked  at  the  corners  of  his  eyes.  he  blinked  them  away  quickly,  hoping  tj  didn’t  notice.  he  didn’t  deserve  this.  and  yet  here  he  was,  savouring  every  second  like  it  might  be  ripped  away  at  any  moment.  although...  this  wasn’t  the  kind  of  thing  you  dreamed  about.  you  didn’t  dream  about  eating  food  and  being  able  to  taste  every  single  bite.

tj  had  made  chorizo  for  him  once.  beau  remembered  it  with  stupid  clarity.  back  then,  he’d  burnt  it  to  a  crisp.  beau  ate  it—because  tj  tried.  and  now—although  cooked  certainly  better,  this  tasted  like  the  same  love  and  effort  tj  had  given  back  then.

he  had  always  done  that  for  him,  hadn't  he?  in  the  little  ways.  in  burnt  food  and  haphazard  kisses  and  his  voice  in  the  early  mornings  whining:  '10  more  minutes'.  beau  sniffled,  eyes  burning  as  he  reached  for  another  spoonful.  he  didn’t  even  realise  how  quickly  he  was  eating  until  he  glanced  down  and  saw  his  plate  half-empty.  he  slowed,  just  barely,  wiping  his  nose  with  the  back  of  his  hand.

the   realization   that   sanguk   has   been   overthinking   everything   leaves   him   quiet.   blair’s   laugh   rings   through   the   mic—   light,   amused,   as   if   sanguk   had   just   asked   the   most   ridiculous   question   (   which,   in   hindsight,   maybe   he   did   ).   heat   rushes   to   his   cheeks,   blooming   with   a   mix   of   embarrassment   and   regret.   but   even   with   that   shame   curling   in   his   chest,   he   doesn’t   regret   saying   it.   because   at   least   now,   it’s   out   there.   at   least   now,   silence   won’t   sit   between   them   for   hours—   or   worse,   days.

his   old   self   would’ve   never   dared   to   speak.   the   old   sanguk   would’ve   buried   the   jealousy   so   deep   it   would’ve   started   to   rot.   he   would’ve   ghosted   blair   for   a   few   days,   claiming   he   was   busy,   until   the   feeling   passed.   until   it   didn’t   matter   anymore.   but   now,   he   knows   better.   silence   ruins   things   faster   than   confrontation   ever   could.   and   blair   deserves   more   than   a   quiet   retreat.   so   yes,   even   if   the   question   sounded   stupid,   even   if   he   looked   like   a   complete   idiot   for   asking   it,   he’s   still   glad   he   did.   because   the   weight   on   his   chest?   it   lifts,   just   a   little.

he   doesn’t   answer   right   away.   just   focuses   on   the   road   ahead,   weaving   through   narrow   gaps   in   traffic   with   careful   precision.   it’s   only   when   they   reach   a   red   light   that   he   finally   speaks—   softly,   almost   too   soft   for   anyone   else   to   hear,   if   not   for   the   mic   in   his   helmet.   “   i’m   selos   po.   ”   the   words   are   gentle,   barely   above   a   whisper.   but   blair   hears   them   clearly.   and   now   that   they’re   out,   hanging   between   them   in   the   silence   that   follows,   another   wave   of   realization   washes   over   him.

a   soft   chuckle   slips   from   sanguk’s   lips   at   blair’s   sarcastic   jab.   he   knows   it’s   not   just   a   joke—   there’s   a   sting   beneath   the   humor,   a   sharp   edge   meant   to   cut.   but   that’s   okay.   sanguk   has   learned   to   accept   whatever   side   comments   blair   throws   his   way   if   it   means   letting   some   of   that   anger   out.   if   it   helps   him   bleed   out   the   resentment   little   by   little   until   there’s   nothing   left   to   feel.

and   besides…   he’s   not   wrong.   mothers   really   do   know   best.

his   own   mom   saw   it   from   the   start—   how   much   blair   had   changed   him.   how   much   he’d   taught   him,   about   love   and   life   and   all   the   things   sanguk   didn’t   know   how   to   handle   back   then.   still   struggles   with   now.   but   when   blair   speaks   again,   something   in   sanguk   stills.   the   mention   of   meeting   her—   his   mom—   makes   him   pause   mid-breath.

he   always   meant   to   introduce   blair   to   his   family.   he   just   kept   putting   it   off.   not   because   he   didn’t   want   to—   god   knows   he   did—   but   because   he   knew   how   nosy   his   mom   could   be.   how   she   had   a   habit   of   pushing   too   hard,   saying   things   that   made   people   squirm.   she   would’ve   seen   through   him   in   a   heartbeat,   seen   every   crack   he   tried   to   hide   behind   his   cool   exterior.   maybe   even   tried   to   fix   him.   that   used   to   terrify   him.   but   sitting   here   now,   in   blair’s   dining   room   after   being   welcomed   in   by   his   mother,   sanguk   realizes   something:   maybe   their   moms   aren’t   all   that   different.   maybe   she   wouldn’t   have   pressured   blair   into   anything   uncomfortable.   and   blair?   blair   would   never   let   himself   be   pushed   around   like   that.   he   should’ve   known   better.