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Seonghwa sat at his desk, perusing over a few notes from the day previous, trying to internally ignore the anxiety swelling in his chest. He wasn't entirely nervous– okay, maybe he was, but he didn't wish to admit it. He was drowning out his thoughts, listening to the subtle click of the clock, forcing his attention on the written words he had carefully scribbled in preparation for lectures in regards to next week.

He didn't dislike teaching by any means, he rather loved it. However, the preparations, the notes, the grading, the miscellaneous details; it was a bit tiring, to say the least. It kept him busy, he'll admit, and he didn't hate that. But, he did feel almost as if he had less and less time for himself, which was beginning to eat away at the frail edges of his nerves, unraveling every single bit of the wall he had built around himself. Maybe it was for the best, because in all honesty, Seonghwa wasn't entirely sure if those walls would ever come back down on their own. They were bulletproof, bomb-proof, even, guarding his heart away from the shrapnel and sharp threats of anything that could harm his soul during what felt to be a turbulent trial of events. It wasn't just the move or the new scenery that had taken its toll, though minimal, but rather the current of change that was looming like an overcast sky, threatening with a dampening, soaking rain that came with a spark of lightning and rumble of thunder. He knew what was coming, he knew it all, he just didn't wish to entertain the thought of it. Drowning himself, even slightly, within this pile of work, felt to be the slightest essence of peace that he needed. He knew it was costing him a few things, things that he wasn't sure he minded, like rest and coping healthily, but to him, this was all he could hold on to. The ground wasn't steady, swaying and shifting beneath his feet, acting like quaking tectonic plates that couldn't quite shift easily. Yet, here he was, standing in the middle, watching as the ground split beneath him, fully prepared to swallow him whole.

Partially, he felt paralyzed, unable to move, stuck watching as everything around him fell into pieces. Life had always felt like a puzzle to him, never quite a full picture, yet bordered around the idea that if one could simply fill in the empty spaces, there might be a glimpse at what was waiting for them at the end. Maybe it was a happy ending, maybe it was negative, or maybe it was something in between. For whatever it was, Seonghwa didn't wish to know right now. He wanted to live in the present, to avoid and to drown himself in his work, to occupy his time in whatever fashion he could to avoid the onslaught of what nagged him in the quiet stillness of night.

Even now, as he glances at the clock, he finds himself counting down the minutes, mentally preparing himself for a date, of sorts, something he hadn't truthfully thought about entertaining in many years. His ex, Jay, had been the worst kind of person one could meet. But how was he to know back then? Naive and maybe a little oblivious, sinking into the feeling of kisses and words of affirmation, trying to ignore the yelling and belittling remarks that came from his tipsy state of mind. Jay was loving at first, kind and considerate, the kind of man one would be proud to show off to their parents, the kind one would entertain the idea of marriage with. Something had just. . . shifted, and Seonghwa became Jay's verbal punching bag. But how was he to know that that wasn't what love was supposed to be like? Couples got into arguments, people got drunk, people. . . raised their hands at one another.

He didn't know. He could never know. Even now, waiting on Hongjoong, he didn't know what to expect. Their flirting, or whatever one was to call it, was subtle, sparking an electric current that Seonghwa felt himself drawn to. It was like sparking a tinder, watching as flames engulf the space between them, setting their hearts aflame from a simple murmured greeting. Whatever had led Seonghwa here, to meet Wooyoung and their entire friend group, to simply just meet Hongjoong, it felt purposeful, almost as if the universe was trying to heal him in some sort of way.

He wasn't entirely sure if he deserved all of this, considering the way his life had been altered as of late. But, he was trying. He was attempting to enjoy something in his life once again, even if he felt his empty canvases and lack of inspiration mocking him from the unlit closet at the back of his room. It was enough, for now. Even if just a fraction of being enough.

A quiet knock rings out at his ajar door, leaving Seonghwa to look upright, watching as Hongjoong slowly strolled in. He was wearing a beige sweater, his usual glasses perched upon his nose, paired with dark-colored jeans. His smile was soft, almost as soft as his sweater had looked, matching with a glimmering spark of something unfamiliar that made Seonghwa's heart bleed with warmth.

"Hi."

"Hi," Seonghwa replies, pushing away from his desk slowly, rising from his seat.

"Ready?" Hongjoong asks, his smile never fading.

"Yes," Seonghwa replies back, a smile of his own peaking through. "Of course."

With a few movements, he reaches for his phone and his bag, resting the strap against his shoulder as he fidgets with his keys in his hand, following Hongjoong out as he reaches to shut off his classroom overhead lights with the switch, followed by his hand pulling his door closed behind him, locking it with the key on his keyring.

"Alright, it's a bit of a walk, is that okay? Would you rather me drive?"

Seonghwa placed his keyring into his pocket, glancing at Hongjoong. "Let's walk. It'll be nice to just enjoy the weather and to talk a bit. Don't you think?"

"Absolutely," Hongjoong replies, beginning to walk down the corridor with Seonghwa in tow.

"So," Seonghwa begins, following the male through the familiar confines of the campus. "How was class today? Anything exciting happen?"

"Well, you tell me–" Hongjoong says with a subtle smirk. "Wooyoung, our favorite little tattletale, decided to say that you were spying on me."

"Oh my God, I was not–" Seonghwa attests, listening as Hongjoong laughs. "What? Oh, hell, this is so embarrassing."

Hongjoong continues to chuckle, walking through the main lobby of the Arts building, hands reaching out to push the door open, welcoming the soft rush of a breeze over their skin. Seonghwa walks through the open door that Hongjoong holds for him, using his hand to brush strands of his hair back behind his ear, feeling the warmth of the sun coat his face and neck, hopefully to hide the sudden crawling flush sinking onto his skin.

"I genuinely was not spying on you," Seonghwa mutters, following Hongjoong down the few steps that led towards the building doors, turning with him to the right, blindly following him to an unknown location that he hadn't bothered to question Hongjoong about.

"I know, I know. Wooyoung always lies about stupid stuff, and he makes it a point to exaggerate like the menace he is," Hongjoong explains, keeping his pace slow, not rushing to meet their destination.

"He's a bit of a wild card, from what I've gathered. But, I think I like that about him," Seonghwa says earnestly. "I've come to learn that most of the group is a bit. . . wild."

"They're wild, that's for sure," Hongjoong agrees, keeping his tone light. "They've always been spirited like that. I think that's why I hung around them for so long. I'm not necessarily the social type."

"Really?" Seonghwa asks, raising a brow. Hongjoong nods, looking ahead of him, the cars that had been passing by providing a calming backdrop to their conversation.

"Really," Hongjoong continues, offering a small smile. "I didn't have many friends when I grew up. I was a typical loner back then, and I don't really know why, I just never sought out company. Maybe I've always been a bit reserved; Wooyoung likes to tell me that, at least. But, I don't know, I guess it helped me study more, focus less on the things that didn't matter back then."

"Company didn't matter?" Seonghwa questions, but Hongjoong sighs, almost as if he wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

"No, no– it did, I guess at some point, I just– I don't know. It wasn't necessarily on my list of priorities at the time. I was writing lyrics a lot, learning as many instruments as I could manage, studying hard–" he pauses, wetting his lips. "I guess I just didn't notice how alone I was sometimes. I always had music, I always had my guitar and my parents. It was enough, back then."

"Painting was my only company," Seonghwa replies, keeping his voice low; contemplative. "I found a semblance of peace in creating things that I couldn't put words to. It was almost like I was expressing the things that felt too hard to say with just a few colors smeared on a canvas. I didn't need anyone around me, nor did I really ever crave social interaction, but I learned in college that it's a horrible way to survive by just being alone all the time. That's how I met my ex, and I don't know, from there, it got harder and harder to stay away from people."

"Oh, so you're not seeing anyone?" Hongjoong questions, earning a slight smile from Seonghwa.

"Of course not. Why would I have said yes to this date–?" Seonghwa cuts himself off, turning to look at the male next to him, nearly muttering his next words in a quick blur of an apology. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't assume that this is what this is–!"

"Relax, Seonghwa," Hongjoong says with a teasing smile. "It's whatever we want it to be. If you want it to just be two friends hanging out, then we're just two friends. But. . . if you wanted it to be a date–"

"I do," Seonghwa admits quickly, almost too brazenly, a flush of color coating his cheeks. "Is that. . . too soon?"

Hongjoong laughs. "No. I wanted that too, I just didn't want to pressure you. You're like a flower, you know."

"A f-flower?" Seonghwa mutters almost under his breath, blinking twice as he walks in tandem with Hongjoong, listening as the male hums with a gentle smile. He was looking ahead of him, hands in his pockets, almost too aware of the effect he was having on Seonghwa.

"Soft, delicate; too precious to risk hurting," Hongjoong explains as he turns to glance at the male, keeping his words light. "But incredibly beautiful."

Seonghwa feels his flush deepen, and instead of shying away like he normally would, he smiles, offering a soft reply that he couldn't bear to be left unsaid. "Thank you."

"How long ago did you break up with your ex?" Hongjoong asks quietly, which causes Seonghwa to finally turn to face the view ahead of him, his steps coming to a pause as they near a crosswalk. Hongjoong stands beside him, waiting for the signal to cross.

"It's been years," Seonghwa confesses, taking a breath inwards. "I haven't been with anyone else, before or after him. He. . . wasn't necessarily the greatest."

"How could someone like you end up in the clutches of someone so undeserving?" Hongjoong asks, earning a shy smile in turn.

"How can you assume I was the innocent party? What if we were both toxic?"

"You? Toxic?" Hongjoong rolls his eyes. "I doubt it. What happened between the two of you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't mind," Seonghwa says, watching the crosswalk sign carefully as he spoke, trying not to confess too much, while also trekking carefully, unaware of Hongjoong's possible opinions about anything that he was about to explain.

"Well, it was perfect at the start. He was truly everything, and I was happy for a while," Seonghwa glanced down, looking at the pavement beneath his shoes before he glanced up again. "But. . . he started drinking more. He was almost like a frat boy glued into an adult's body, drinking every Friday and Saturday without thought, nearing black-out status before midnight every single time. I tried to talk to him about it, but he just. . . didn't want to hear it."

Hongjoong nods, watching Seonghwa intently.

"Eventually he got tired of me 'mothering him', so I stopped talking about it. I stopped watching over him, worrying about him, asking him questions, and the moment I stopped, he. . . he cheated. Not once, or twice, probably eight or nine times. Maybe even more, who knows. I didn't stick around to really find out the entire truth."

"That's horrible, Seonghwa," Hongjoong says empathetically, raising his hand, placing it gently on the male's arm. "I'm so sorry. No one should have to endure someone as cruel and neglectful as that."

"I was naive and stupid–" Seonghwa tries to defend, but Hongjoong shakes his head.

"No, you weren't. It's not your fault. He's a loser, an honest dickhead who doesn't even realize who he lost." Hongjoong steps closer, earning a glance from Seonghwa as the distance between them suddenly runs only to be a few inches, causing his skin to burn with affliction. "I could see it from the moment we met. There's something about you that no one else could ever possess, and if he couldn't see that, he's worth not a single ounce of your time."

"What is it about me that you see?" Seonghwa ponders, his eyes searching Hongjoong's.

"Purity," Hongjoong replies. "Heart and soul; you're pure. There's an elegance about you that I can't describe with words. The way you speak, the way you teach and the way you compose yourself; it's truly compelling. Inspiring, maybe."

"You're just saying that–"

"I'm not," Hongjoong attests. "I would never flatter Wooyoung like this. His ego would get too big."

Seonghwa laughs softly, turning his gaze away towards the crosswalk sign just as it signals for pedestrians to cross. He takes a step forward, listening as Hongjoong follows him.

"Well, thank you," Seonghwa replies again as they walk across the street, standing a little closer than before. "No one really ever talks to me like that, let alone describes me the way you do."

"I'm glad I could be one of the first," Hongjoong comments. "If not the first."

"You'd be the first, well–" Seonghwa glances at Hongjoong before looking away. "Besides my mom, I guess."

"You never talk about your mom," Hongjoong mentions, keeping his voice quiet. "I don't mean to pry, but is there a reason for it?"

"There is, but," Seonghwa pauses, following Hongjoong as he turns to the right, meandering down a path that seemed to lure itself away from the inner city chaos. "It's a long story, truthfully."

"That's alright, we don't have to discuss it," Hongjoong replies, staying close as they walk in tandem. "Besides, the stop is just up here. And–" Hongjoong cuts himself off, reaching for his phone within the pocket of his jeans before checking the time, smiling when he spots it. "It's perfect timing."

Seonghwa smiles as he watches Hongjoong begin to walk quicker, a wide smile gracing his features as he turns, a gleeful look coating his expression. "Come on!"

Seonghwa chuckles softly, following quickly as Hongjoong leads him down the path, striding away from the tall buildings near campus grounds, bleeding out into a calmer atmosphere. Beyond the chaos of the city, came the clearing of a nearby pack, adjacent to the nearby river. Seonghwa watched as Hongjoong veered off the path, striding towards a bench that had been beneath a rather large tree, one that hung over the bench beautifully, the leaves slowly beginning to turn shades of brown and red. Hongjoong turned around, his hand finding the back of the bench as he smiled gleefully.

"This is my spot," he says, nearly proud of himself. "It's not much, but it brings me peace in a way I have a hard time describing."

"No, I love it," Seonghwa attests, taking a few steps closer as he looks towards the river, watching the sun gleam against the gentle current. "It's really pretty here."

Hongjoong sighs, settling down on the bench, his voice a quiet murmur that allows Seonghwa to truly envision the relaxation the male must've had when visiting this place, painting a perfect picture of just how much this place meant to him.

"Even with all of the tribulations of the workplace, dealing with paperwork, dealing with students and everything else–" Hongjoong explains quietly. "Nothing quite beats this. The river, the surroundings, the quiet. It's everything to me."

"It's serene," Seonghwa replies, turning around to face Hongjoong. "How long have you been coming here?"

"For a while," Hongjoong mutters. "I stress out very easily, so coming here, away from loud noises, sitting by myself; I've chosen to relish in this. You can't find this kind of peace just anywhere."

Seonghwa smiles as he moves towards the bench, sitting down next to Hongjoong, soaking in the peace for a moment with him without the need for words. Hongjoong was right, though. It was beautiful here, overly so. With the glimmer from the sun reflecting off of the water, met with the lush greenery and shade from the overcast tree, Seonghwa could easily feel himself allowing the tension to drift off of his shoulders.

More than that, he could feel himself growing overly comfortable in Hongjoong's presence. He wasn't sure why he was so drawn to him like this, but for whatever it was, he wasn't entirely keen on ignoring it anymore.

"About my mother," Seonghwa suddenly confesses, trying not to disturb the peace for too long. "She's. . . unwell."

Hongjoong turns to look at Seonghwa, raising a brow. "Unwell?"

"Extremely," Seonghwa acknowledges, leaning back just enough to try and ease the tension out of his chest, finally able to express the weight of the world he had isolated himself into. "We've gone through the tests, the medications, the scans and several oncologists at this point. The same answer keeps reappearing."

"Oncology–? Wait–" Hongjoong leans forwards by an inch, trying to catch a glimpse of Seonghwa's expression, though the male can't bear to look at him. "She. . . has cancer?"

"All over her liver, and her stomach," Seonghwa replies quietly, trying to keep a brave face, even if he felt capable of anything but. "It's terminal. I won't lie to you."

"Seonghwa," Hongjoong begins, shaking his head slowly, almost in shock or disbelief, or something similar. "I'm so, so incredibly sorry."

For some reason, Seonghwa humbly smiles, only partially, maybe from guilt or relief, he didn't know. He wasn't even entirely sure why he expressed any of that to Hongjoong, considering that they had only known one another for a matter of days, if not weeks. But, a part of him yearned to lessen the weight on his chest, and if this was the key to doing so, he somehow couldn't convince himself to stop.

"She's always been so proud of me. Even since I was younger, painting on small canvases and going through an abundance of sketchbooks like some sort of obsessive habit," Seonghwa allows his voice to trail off, taking in a calming breath. "She loves to see the things that I create, but even now, I can't. . . I can't make anything for her. She waits for me every single weekend, hoping that I'll bring her something new to study and admire, but I'm not capable of it. I lost my passion for it, my muse and my drive; I've lost it all."

Hongjoong continues to listen, seemingly unable to interrupt.

"Painting was everything to me, and now–" Seonghwa shakes his head, folding his arms against his chest. "I have nothing."

"You still have things, Seonghwa," Hongjoong tentatively expresses, obviously trekking carefully. "There's all of us, now. You've got the job, your apartment, and. . . I'm here, you know?"

Seonghwa nods, offering a smile as he glances at the male, trying to urge his concern to ebb. "I know, and I appreciate it. Life has just been hard for a while, and I'm ready for it to finally just be easy for once."

"I understand," Hongjoong replies. "You know, Seonghwa, my brother got sick when I was younger."

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"No one really does," Hongjoong says quietly, their shoulders slightly brushing up against one another. "He's the best brother, even if he is older than me. There's always that stereotype that older siblings can be hard on you, pick on you, push you around– but no. Not him. Not even once."

"I don't have any siblings," Seonghwa adds in carefully, earning a nod from the other.

"It's just my brother, no one else. I don't know if my mom would've wanted to handle more than just the two of us," he jokes softly, earning a scoff from Seonghwa. "We were wild kids, but I think that was what was so innocent about it. I loved music, he loved sports, so we were just loud all the time. But, yeah. He got sick. His heart couldn't keep up with him when he was eight. Found out that he had an arrhythmia, which prevented him from enjoying sports anymore."

"What happened then?"

"He quit," Hongjoong replies. "No more baseball. No more track. No more swimming."

"That's horrible."

"He was sad for a long time. He didn't have the drive to do anything else, and he just sat around for some years, studying and learning stuff on his computer, but he never really did get over the fact that he could no longer play baseball like he wanted to." Hongjoong glances at Seonghwa, taking a breath. "Point of what I'm trying to get at, is that I've seen someone who's lost the thing they love the most in life. Whether a hobby, a person, or. . . something else. He let that prevent him from finding anything else. He sat in bed, learned how to code, basically against his will, and earned a degree in computer science. Every day he calls me and tells me how much he hates his job, and I wish I would've told him all those years ago to chase after what he loves."

"But you didn't because you thought you were protecting him," Seonghwa tries to soothe. "His heart probably wouldn't have been able to handle the rush that comes with playing sports. You were just supporting him. There's nothing wrong with that."

"No, I know, but. . . I was allowing him to wallow in his own pity, to drown himself in the negativity that he created. He's so talented, Seonghwa. I just wish he could see that."

"I'm sure he knows how much you care."

"He does, I know he does. But you remind me a lot of him, sometimes." Hongjoong's gaze was focused on the water, yet his voice was so soothing, almost like honey. "You're both so passionate, yet you avoid the things you love."

"I–" Seonghwa wants to argue, but he knows that Hongjoong was right. "It's not on purpose, I just. . . with everything going on, I can't focus. My mind feels so hazy all the time and I just can't isolate a thought long enough to simply just paint it."

"You said my music helped you, right?"

Seonghwa turns, his eyes glued to Hongjoong's now as their gazes cross paths. "Yeah."

"Let me help you from now on. Besides, I need a bit of help finishing a new song I've been writing. The lyrics just aren't finishing themselves."

"You don't have to do any of that for me, Hongjoong."

"I want to," Hongjoong replies, leaning closer.

Seonghwa felt his breath hitch, almost subtly, but it was enough for him to realize that he could feel Hongjoong's breath on his lips. He swallows quietly, trying to keep his eyes upright, though the urge to glance down becomes a near insatiable-decision.

"Really, I mean it–"

"I know you do, but I do too," Hongjoong assures. His smile is so, so warm. So soft and genuine, so incredibly kind that it makes Seonghwa's heart melt.

"You make me feel like I can conquer it," Seonghwa replies quietly, searching Hongjoong's assuring gaze. "I want to get past this, and for the first time in a long time, you somehow gave me hope that I just might."

"Well, with my amazing piano skills that seem to catch you off-guard, I'd be happy to oblige," Hongjoong teases, earning a scoff from the others. "But seriously. If it helps, I'd be happy to see if we can crack this case. It's a mystery that I'm curious and overly invested in solving."

Seonghwa shakes his head, watching as Hongjoong's gaze shifts, if only momentarily, giving way to a feeling that he wasn't sure he'd ever have again. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly passionate," Hongjoong returns, his smile lingering. "I just want to help you, Seonghwa."

"I know," he replies, unconsciously leaning closer, unable to realize that he was allowing himself to drift into Hongjoong's orbit. "You have no idea how much I appreciate that."

"I–" Hongjoong pauses, almost hesitant. "Seonghwa–"

"Yes?"

Hongjoong stills for a moment, his eyes glimmering with something. . . unexpected. Seonghwa hasn't seen this before, something that his ex never dared to express towards him. He couldn't tell if he was reading too far into this, or if he wasn't reading far enough. Hongjoong's expression was softening, lightly highlighted by the setting sun, gently resting against his features in a way that made him seem ethereal. This look, this gentle affection, wasn't anything his ex ever bothered to express towards him. His eyes always felt empty, void of promises and love, drowning in a sea of regret and fake allure. He truthfully didn't know what he saw in his ex back then, now having seen what a look like this felt like. Because of that, he feels himself leaning closer, submerging the small bout of distance between them to null space, breaths mingling in a dance as old as time.

Hongjoong, taking Seonghwa's hints, leans in simultaneously, and before either of them can truly process what's happening, their lips touch in the faintest of kisses, almost hesitant and shy, but tender nonetheless. Seonghwa pulls away, just by a fraction, but Hongjoong raises his hand and caresses the back of the male's neck, pulling him closer again, meshing their lips together in a complete kiss, one that was met with all of the affection and longing possible.

Maybe, just maybe, Seonghwa thinks as their lips part away again, could he truly find a new beginning here.

But not alone, rather with Hongjoong instead.

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