spider eyes, muffin tins, and love (good things come in six)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/39696120.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: ENHYPEN (Band)
Relationship: Yang Jungwon/Everyone
Character: Yang Jungwon, Lee Heeseung, Park Jongseong | Jay, Sim Jaeyun |
Jake, Park Sunghoon (ENHYPEN), Kim Sunoo (ENHYPEN), Nishimura
Riki | Ni-ki
Additional Tags: Coming of Age, Growing Up, Gift Giving, Symbolism, copious imagery,
Heartbreak, Moving On, Healing, Falling In Love, Implied Sexual
Content, Love, love in all of its forms
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-06-17 Words: 7,169 Chapters: 1/1

spider eyes, muffin tins, and love (good things come in six)
by luvx1

Summary

Jungwon breathes in the comforting smell of home: the soft lavenders and meadow grass,
baby powder and old rubber tires, and cries into his grandmother's cardigan. He can’t tell if
they’re tears of relief or mourning, of hope for what is to come or regret for what is already
lost. She pets his hair gently, murmuring sweet things like Jungwon’s still her baby boy
with scrapes on his knees, and he clutches to her tighter. He falls asleep with his head on
her lap and papery lips pressed to his forehead.

(or: the 6 types of love that Jungwon discovers over the years and the 1 he's yet to find)

Notes

See the end of the work for notes

storge (n.)
unconditional familial love

When Yang Jungwon is eleven years old, he thinks he falls in love. When a senior, black-haired
and doe-eyed, neatly pressed uniform and lanky framed, says goodbye to Jungwon’s friend and
strolls off into the sunset with his bag thrown over his left shoulder and his jacket resting on the
crook of his arm, Jungwon can’t look away.
“Who is that?” He asks faintly, even as he accepts the banana milk pressed into his hand by
Jeongwoo, a thank you for waiting so they could walk home together. They begin to head in the
same direction.

“Heeseung hyung?” Jeongwoo slurps noisily at the milk before finally elaborating. “He’s my tutor,
you know, the whole reason why I’m not failing algebra right now? The reason why you have to
wait an hour after school for me once a week?”

Jungwon blinks. “That’s Heeseung sunbae?” He questions. Then, he pauses. It makes a lot of
sense.

It makes a lot of sense that Heeseung sunbae is soft-spoken but firm, awkward in his motions but
fluid all the same. What doesn’t make sense is that Jungwon finds him completely and utterly
breathtaking.

When Jungwon is eleven years old, he thinks he falls in love.

He starts going to the tutoring sessions with Jeongwoo, sitting at the same table as him and
Heeseung while starting on his homework. He does it for no other reason than to be on the
receiving end of Heeseung’s proud smile, to get a pat on the back, a fond, “See? Jungwonnie’s
doing all his work! You should too.” Directed towards Jeongwoo. Jungwon will always hide his
pleased little smile, but the indulgent way Heeseung pats his head means he knows Jungwon glows
under his attention.

Heeseung sunbae turns into Heeseung hyung. Heeseung hyung who walks to the bus stop after
tutoring sessions with Jungwon and Jeongwoo, who lends Jungwon his umbrella on a rainy day,
who Jungwon discovers lives only two blocks away when he goes to return the umbrella, who
stands ramrod straight, looking frazzled when Jungwon suddenly appears at his doorstep, a girl
who Jungwon thinks is one of his noona’s friends peeping out from behind him.

Oh.

Heeseung hyung who gives Jungwon an awkward smile and waves him off, promising him that he
can keep the ugly blue umbrella. Heeseung hyung who probably goes back to kissing that girl after
Jungwon leaves.
Heeseung hyung who breaks Jungwon’s heart for the first time.

Heeseung’s ears are dusted red, probably from embarrassment, when Jungwon comes and sits with
him and Jeongwoo again the next week. He looks frantically between him and Jeongwoo, worried
that Jungwon has said something about what he’d seen.

But Heeseung hyung has no need to worry. Jungwon hasn’t said a word. Not to Jeongwoo, not to
his noona, and certainly not to Heeseung himself.

In return, Heeseung buys him little things. Jungwon thinks it might be bribery to keep him quiet or
thank yous for staying quiet; he finds that he doesn’t really mind either way.

The ballpoint pen with a pretty gold tip and swirly engravings, a packet of cookies that Jungwon’s
noona adores but Heeseung thinks is Jungwon’s favorite, a mini chess set that he and Jeongwoo
use when they’re waiting at the bus stop for too long.

One day, Jungwon goes up to his Heeseung hyung, a determined frown wedged into his features.
He goes right up to him in the senior’s hallway where Jungwon’s smaller stature and his different
colored uniform badge give away the fact that he doesn’t belong here.

Jungwon holds out a box of chocolates, as far away from himself as he can, as if he can’t wait to
get rid of it.

“Please take it.” His voice comes out weaker than expected. “I know you don’t like me the same
way I like you Heeseung hyung, but I need you to know how I feel so I can move on from you.”

Heeseung blinks, looking like a deer in headlights, and then he melts, eyes gooey and indulgent,
grin fond. “Thanks Jungwonnie,” he says, ruffling the hair that Jungwon had taken such care to
style this morning, “you’re a good kid.” He takes the box, takes out two chocolates, and presses
them into the palm of Jungwon’s hand. “One for you and one for Jeongwoo. Or you can take them
both.” Heeseung winks.

Jungwon looks down, his heart stutters. They’re both his favorite brand. The ones he kept in the
front pocket of his backpack, that melted in the summer heat, smearing the inside of his bag.
Jungwon had been very sad that day. He doesn’t feel so sad right now. He curls his fingers around
the candy and smiles up at Heeseung; Heeseung who remembered his favorite chocolate.
“Thanks hyung.”

Even after the finality of Jungwon’s confession, the strings of Heeseung and Jungwon’s lives never
truly unwind. They’re tugged back to one another over and over again. Jungwon finds himself
sharing popsicles on Heeseung’s back patio, dragging Heeseung along to his and Jeongwoo’s daily
trek to the school, doing homework on his bed as the sun sets while the elder turns Jungwon’s desk
into a drumset, his pencil the drumstick.

Heesseung becomes Jungwon’s rock in a way eleven-year-old Jungwon never could’ve imagined.
He knows Jungwon’s parents—who Jungwon thinks would like nothing more than to adopt the
elder–Jungwon knows which mug is Heeseung’s favorite, and exactly how many seconds he
should warm up a glass of milk for in the Lee’s microwave before it gets too hot. He knows
Heeseung’s mom’s favorite flowers are geraniums, and that she and Jungwon’s mother now go out
for tea together every Sunday.

Jungwon is there to watch Heeseung go through three ‘girlfriends’ and one guy, pretending that it
isn’t funny every time Heeseung comes into his house looking like he got hit by a truck and
declares for the nth time that he’ll never kiss another person. Ever. Heeseung is Jungwon’s
listening ear when the younger vents about boys and girls and how confusing this big scary world
is, and then Heeseung will crack a joke about Jungwon having a crush on him and let Jungwon
pounce on him in retaliation, the two of them rolling around on Jungwon’s carpeted bedroom floor,
giggling in the moonlight until Jungwon’s mother comes upstairs to tell them to go to bed.

Jungwon thought he fell in love when he was eleven, he knows he loves Lee Heeseung when he’s
twelve, thirteen, fourteen, on and on until the end of time.

Crying in Heeseung’s arms on the bus after being shoved to the ground and bruising both knees,
Heeseung promising that he won’t tell Jungwon’s noona about it because he knows she’ll be
embarrassing. The fierce protectiveness in the elder’s eyes.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you Jungwonnie. Never again.” He’d declared that soft summer afternoon
as the bus rumbled down the road, kicking up dust. Jungwon wishes that he’d been right.

Heeseung, barring Jungwon’s actual family, is the first person to teach Jungwon storge:
unconditional familial love. Heeseung is late-night fairytales, backyard barbeques, and chalk on
the pavement. Heeseung is storge.
philia (n.)
soulmates; deep, affectionate love

Because Jungwon is Jungwon, he somehow finds philia second. Philia before philautia, before
ludus and agape, before he is ready.

Heeseung’s hyung says something about a Jongseong once, and all of a sudden, Jungwon doesn’t
stop hearing his name. He finally meets this mystery boy when he’s fourteen at a party in a
different district. A party that took a lot of begging from Jungwon and Jeongwoo to convince
Heeseung to let them attend.

(“Please hyung?” Jungwon looks up at Heeseung, knowing his eyes are doing that sparkly thing
Heeseung hates because it gets him to cave every time. “I just want to meet the Jongseong your
hyung talks about all the time! That’s it!”

Heeseung sighs and relents. He hates leaving Jungwon behind any time anyway.)

Here, Jungwon spills fruit punch on a boy with a crisp suit and sharp eyes. A boy who he doesn’t
know. Jungwon panics, grabbing a bundle of tissues and hopelessly dabbing at the stained white
fabric.

He’s too busy scolding himself in his mind to pay any attention to what the boy is saying to him
until his wrist is gently grabbed and Jungwon looks up to see a wry smile on the other guy’s lips.
A lot less scary than the intimidating sharpness that was there earlier.

“Hey, I said don’t worry about it,” the guy chides, gently prying the tissues from Jungwon’s
fingers. “You honestly did me a favor, I hate this suit.”

It turns out, Jungwon spilled fruit punch on Park Jongseong, at Park Jongseong’s party, in Park
Jongseong’s house. It’s a first meeting that Jongseong will never let him forget.

They spend the rest of the evening together after Jongseong changes into something less fruit
punch stained, and it’s easy. It’s so easy to stare into Jongseong’s molten brown eyes and blurt out
anything and everything that comes to his mind. Jongseong smiles easily, laughs prettily, speaks
with starlight on his tongue.

He steals Jungwon’s breath away, turns him into a pink-cheeked, tongue-tied mess that is
downright embarrassing. Jungwon has never been reduced to something so fluttery. Jongseong
awakens a pink glow in his heart that spreads to his cheeks, a cascade of butterfly wings in the pit
of his stomach when all Jungwon’s been drinking is strawberry lemonade.

At the end of the night, Jongseong asks him for his number, and Jungwon sheepishly admits that
he doesn’t have a phone. Standing in Jongseong’s big house with his expensive things and endless
supply of hors d'oeuvres, Jungwon doesn’t even have a phone. Jungwon is no one to anyone
outside his little suburb except, well, now he is someone to Jongseong. Jongseong doesn’t look
surprised, if anything, he looks endeared.

Their communication happens through Heeseung, and Jungwon finds himself on the same park
bench every Thursday, waiting for Jongseong instead of following Heeseung to whatever tutoring
job the elder has like he used to. The park is closer to Jungwon’s house than it is to Jongseong’s,
but the elder insists that he’s fine with it, that he doesn’t want to inconvenience Jungwon any more
than he already is.

(As if Jongseong could ever inconvenience Jungwon.)

They tangle their feet as they sit on the bench, and Jungwon thinks, for a moment, that he sees the
future. Him and Jongseong sitting on this bench, Jongseong getting down on one knee and–

Jungwon stops himself there, flushing at his own imagination.

They spend hours just talking until Jungwon’s sure he has to go home, in which case Jongseong
presses a kiss to his forehead and bids him goodbye, waving until Jungwon can’t even see him in
the distance.

Weeks turn into months, and finally, Jongseong kisses him on the lips one bitterly cold November
afternoon. Jungwon’s nose is red, and his cheeks are red, and his heart beats in red too.

Jongseong is Jungwon’s first, it feels like he could also be his last.

Jongseong is warm and kind. He celebrates when Jungwon is handed down his noona’s phone,
texts him good morning and goodnight. Asks what's wrong? before Jungwon’s even opened his
mouth on the bad days, caresses his face and tells him he loves him when it feels like no one else
does.

Jungwon is rarely sad because Jongseong, Jay makes him so happy. Jongseong who invites
Jungwon over to his big house on the weekends so they can bake muffins and Jongseong can cook
him dinner too. Jongseong who has more life skills than Jungwon despite not needing them even a
little bit.

Jongseong who has big dreams, and Jungwon whose hands are too small to hold them all.

Jungwon knows that, technically, their relationship doesn’t qualify as long distance. He lives
twenty minutes away from Jongseong when there’s no traffic, and that’s bumped up to forty-five
during rush hour. Jongseong drops everything and appears in front of Jungwon’s front door as if he
can just feel that something’s wrong on the bad days. But twenty minutes is still twenty minutes.
Neither of them can drive, leaving their houses to take the bus late at night is risky, and making
time in between school and all of their individual activities is not easy.

Every time Jungwon sees Jongseong, it feels like a little gift, one that he’ll never get tired of
unwrapping. But Jungwon can’t help but be a little selfish, a little greedy. He wants to see
Jongseong every day. Wants to pass Jongseong in the halls and brush their hands together between
classes like other couples do.

Jungwon is dreaming about things like this when Jongseong calls him up and tells him that he got
accepted into university. The university, actually. The one that Jongseong talked about with the
cosmos reflected in his eyes when they’d snuck out to stargaze in the park last summer, the
university Jungwon said would be stupid not to want Jongseong, despite barely knowing how
admissions worked.

Jungwon is the first person he tells, after my mom, obviously, Jongseong laughs into the receiver.

Jongseong is going three hours away.

If twenty minutes makes Jungwon sad, what will three hours do?

He agonizes over this one question for countless nights. Heeseung notices, Jeongwoo notices, and,
even though he’s twenty minutes away (for now), Jongseong notices.
“Baby, hey, come on. Talk to me,” Jongseong pleads. He is on one knee in front of Jungwon at that
same park bench, but the scene is vastly different than the one Jungwon had envisioned just a year
ago.

Jongseong is looking up at him, eyes wide, concerned, and pleading. Jungwon’s eyes are filled
with tears as he stares down at his lap, refusing to meet Jongseong’s gaze.

He thought about this, they talked about this. Could they make long-distance work? With
Jongseong in college and Jungwon finishing up high school? Jungwon almost convinced himself
that they could, almost allowed himself to drown in that delusion.

Then, he talked to Heeseung. Heeseung who’s friends with Jongseong, who Jungwon thought
would nod and encourage him, would say you can do it! Instead, Heeseung told him to break things
off and save their relationship from a slower, more painful death.

Heeseung wakes Jungwon up and forces him to realize that he’s drowning. Honestly, Jungwon
might’ve let himself drown if it were anyone but Heeseung telling him to take a breath. Heeseung
tells him to break things off and Jungwon will always be a little in love with Heeseung, so he does.
He breaks things off with Jongseong.

Jongseong understands because he is Jongseong. He nods, gives Jungwon a hug, and promises to
remain his best friend. Jongseong goes off to college after he turns eighteen, and leaves the piece of
his heart belonging to Jungwon engraved on that park bench.

Jongseong is Jungwon’s soulmate. Always has been and always will be. He taught Jungwon philia:
deep, affectionate love. Jongseong is butterfly kisses and interlocked fingers, fireworks and
sunsets, park benches and overgrown grassy knolls. Jongseong is philia.

eros (n.)
sensual, passionate love

Jungwon doesn’t love again for a long time after Jongseong is gone. He decides on a college an
hour away from home, in the same direction as Jongseong. He tells himself it’s because the dance
team is incredible, but something deep in his bones scoffs at the lie. He’s only two hours away, a
voice inside of his head chimes. It’s not twenty minutes, but two hours is better than three.
Jeongwoo, on the other hand, follows Heeseung to his school deeper in the city. Jungwon misses
them both, but the strings of their lives are always connected. Something or the other will always
drag them back together.

Park Sunghoon is the first upperclassman Jungwon meets on campus. Luck of the draw, perhaps,
because Jungwon is determined to move on. He’s eighteen and he’s reckless and he’s sad, still
hung up on a boy who has long since moved on, whom he still calls up every weekend and meets
up with for coffee when he’s in town . Sunghoon doesn’t promise to fix it, but he does promise a
good time.

Sunghoon is a fleeting thing; because Jay is gone, and Sunghoon is there. Jungwon will regret
Sunghoon for a short amount of time, but not a long time because the things that Sunghoon taught
him will echo for lifetimes.

Whenever someone brushes their lips against his collarbone, rubs circles on his hip, fists their
hands in his hair, Sunghoon is there. The essence of him. Eros.

Sunghoon is hot and stuffy, cloying and sweet. Their relationship is a beautiful whirlwind,
Jungwon holds his breath until he feels faint. Jungwon is dizzy and high and right on the edge of
death so he feels alive. It’s everything he wants and the opposite of everything he needs. But it feels
like he needs Sunghoon now, needs his lips on his to breathe.

In hindsight, Sunghoon did nothing wrong and neither did Jungwon. They just wanted. At some
point, it became less about forgetting and more about remembering. Memorizing the taste and
shape of one another because they knew that their time would eventually come to an end.

Sunghoon is inevitable, leaving Sunghoon is also inevitable.

That’s the thing about eros. It can’t exist forever on its own. It needs to be paired with pragma,
philia, something else. Jungwon and Sunghoon might’ve been able to create something else but, in
all honesty, they didn’t want to.

“Jungwon,” Sunghoon breathes into his mouth one night, the two of them tangled in the sheets of
Sunghoon’s apartment.

“Hmm?” Is Jungwon’s distracted response, too engrossed with the slope of Sunghoon’s nose and
the little mole on his face.

“Do you think we could be something? Something more than this?”

Jungwon’s first instinct is to pull away, he’s relieved to note that Sunghoon doesn’t look hurt by
the action. He examines the elder’s face. “Do you?” He counters instead.

Sunghoon sighs as if he knew Jungwon wouldn’t just answer the question. They’ve gotten to know
the worst, brattiest sides of one another over the course of a couple of months. “No.”

It’s simple, it’s admonition, it’s truth.

Jungwon lets out the breath he’s been holding all this time.

“Good.”

A pause. Sunghoon gives him an opening to continue, or the option to go back to kissing him and
forget that the conversation even happened. For once, Jungwon chooses the former.

“I don’t even know where my heart is, Sunghoon,” he admits. It’s the most emotionally vulnerable
he’s been with the elder. “I can’t give you something I don’t have.”

Sunghoon smiles, raw, pitying, understanding. He places a hand on Jungwon’s chest. “Your heart
hasn’t gone anywhere Jungwonnie,” he puts a finger on Jungwon’s lips, silencing his arguments.
“You locked it up and threw away the key. Now you just need somebody to find it.”

He gives Jungwon a sidelong glance, Jungwon thinks the key is in the pocket of a man two hours
away. A man with a sharp jawline and wicked grin, with–

“Or,” Sunghoon interrupts his plethora of thoughts as if he knows the voices in Jungwon’s head are
getting too loud again, “you just need someone to pick the lock.”

Sunghoon promises that he will not pry the box open, will not attempt to pick the lock on
Jungwon’s heart, and Jungwon is thankful for it. He doesn’t tell Jeongwoo about Sunghoon,
doesn’t tell Heeseung, but, for some reason, he tells Jongseong.

Maybe he’s being petty, maybe he wants to know if Jongseong will feel jealous or hurt. Or, maybe,
Jungwon just wants advice from the person who taught him philia, wants to know if this type of
love counts too.

They’re sitting in a cafe, one that’s closer to Jungwon’s college than it is to Jongseong’s because
this is Jongseong and that’s how it’s always been between them. Jungwon decides to just be
honest; he tells Jongseong everything.

“And I just…I just needed to move on from you,” is how Jungwon justifies it. He doesn’t regret
Sunghoon, Sunghoon doesn’t regret him. Jungwon doesn’t owe Jongseong this, but he says it
anyway.

Jongseong gives him a soft smile. “I think you keep telling yourself that,” he says, “but I don’t
think this is really about me anymore.”

Jungwon thinks back. It’s less about forgetting and more about remembering. Less about forgetting
Jongseong and more about remembering Sunghoon. Jungwon gulps.

“I thought you and I were going to last, and we didn’t,” he says instead. “Now I don’t think
anything that touches me can last.”

Jongseong leans back in his chair. “Well, I could tell you that that’s just not true, but you wouldn’t
believe me. You need to believe it yourself. Sunghoon isn’t going to help you believe it, not if you
don’t let him. Sunghoon is just you proving to yourself that you’re right instead of trying to prove
yourself wrong.”

Jongseong’s right, but he’s also wrong because while Sunghoon appeared in front of Jungwon with
a countdown over his head, he is also so much more than that. Sunghoon and he can’t last, they
weren’t meant to last—despite what Jongseong believes. Sunghoon is just meant to teach Jungwon
something a little different about this life. Sunghoon’s not Jay, and he doesn’t have to be Jay to be
important to Jungwon in his own way.

Sunghoon takes a lot of things from Jungwon, Jungwon gives a lot of things to Sunghoon, and he
doesn’t regret it. If it were someone else, maybe he’d regret it, but not Sunghoon. He gives
Sunghoon things no one else can take now.

(He also gives Sunghoon a mini chess set he found at the bottom of his moving boxes because
Sunghoon mentioned something about his sister wanting to learn how to play.)

Sunghoon has proved to Jungwon that he’s attractive, that he can be desirable, wanted. It’s not
everything, but it’s not nothing either.

They break their arrangement off five months after they start.

“I hope someone unlocks that little heart of yours,” Sunghoon says as he slips on his shirt in
Jungwon’s dorm room for the last time.

Jungwon grins. “And I hope you find another lock to pick.”

Just before Sunghoon leaves, it begins to rain. Jungwon points him towards the ugly blue umbrella
by the doorway. “Don’t return it,” he waves his hand, “I don’t want that ugly thing back.”

Jungwon’s relationship with Sunghoon is more lust than love, but that’s eros all the same: sensual,
passionate, physical love. Sunghoon is salty skin and stuttered breaths, bitten lips and tangled
sheets, soft sighs and quivering muscles. Sunghoon is eros.

philautia (n.)
self-love

Jungwon thinks Kim Sunoo is pretty. Correction: most people think Kim Sunoo is pretty, Jungwon
is just lucky enough to be one of the people that Sunoo genuinely considers when he tells the elder
this seemingly objective fact.

He doesn’t know what he wants from Sunoo when he walks up to him in the university cafe.
Maybe he wants something like Sunghoon (he doesn’t), or maybe he wants to try again for
something like Jongseong (he doesn’t think he can). Sunoo independently decides that he’s not
ready for either.
“Give me three reasons why I should like you,” Sunoo demands, raising an eyebrow and kicking
back in his chair, sipping on a mint-mocha latte. Jungwon is at a loss for words.

He can’t think of a single one.

From that day on, Kim Sunoo makes it his personal mission to drag Jungwon along to any and all
of his personal agendas. Jungwon doesn’t know why Sunoo takes such a liking to him, he didn’t
exactly do anything to deserve it, but whenever he asks Sunoo why, the elder just gives him this
look before changing the topic.

Jungwon thinks he used to be good at reading people, but somewhere between Jongseong clogging
his every pore and Sunghoon numbing all of his senses, he lost that ability. Maybe Sunoo’s sharp
fox eyes hold the answers to all the questions he’s asking, but Jungwon can’t see anything but a
burnt amber haze. Syrupy gold irises and inky-black pupils tell him nothing.

Every week, Sunoo asks him for the same thing.

“Give me three reasons I should keep you around Yang Jungwon.”

Every week, Jungwon can’t come up with an answer. Sunoo keeps him around anyway.

The initial fear that Sunoo would actually leave him behind wore off maybe two months into their
tentative friendship when Jungwon came to the realization that Sunoo is much too fond of him to
leave over an unanswered question.

Fond of him.

“You like me a lot,” Jungwon notes once while lightly blowing on the soup Sunoo had brought all
the way from the campus cafeteria to Jungwon’s dorm because the younger had come down with a
nasty cold. The cold hadn’t stopped Sunoo from slipping into bed next to him and smoothing the
sweaty strands of Jungwon’s hair out of his eyes.

Sunoo’s smile is saccharine and he smells of sugarplums and apple pies, apricots and nectarines.
“You’re not hard to like.” Is all he says.

Jungwon’s lungs are filled with cotton and he feels like he could just about die, but Sunoo really
likes him so it’s alright.

Kim Sunoo radiates confidence as much as he radiates comfort. Kim Sunoo has known who he is
and what he stands for for a long time. He’s firm in his beliefs and quick to cut out those who he
knows won’t respect him and his time.

Sunoo respects himself and he respects Jungwon. It’s thanks to him that, over time, Jungwon begins
to respect himself.

He’s more than just a boy with bruised knees and a bleeding heart.

Around Sunoo, Jungwon feels himself subconsciously pushing his shoulders back, tilting his chin
up just a little bit. He feels like he’s in elementary school all over again: smashing acorns and ants,
puddles of ice and crunchy leaves under his feet. The king of a world of his own creation.

Sunoo is radiant and icy, razor-sharp if handled incorrectly.

Sunoo will never kiss him because Sunoo respects him more than that. Sunoo tells Jungwon to
heal instead. Jungwon doesn’t understand why Sunoo wants to sit and watch paint dry, watch
Jungwon’s wounds scab over and bat his hands away, stopping him from picking at the new skin.

Sunoo cares, really cares, so Jungwon tells him everything. When he’s done, Sunoo barely looks
surprised.

“Little bus boy with his little bruised knees, his broken heart on a park bench, and bloody lips on
his bedsheets.”
Sunoo’s eyes shimmer and shine and, for once, Jungwon can read the words written inside the sun-
slatted space of his irises. I can help. I can’t fix it for you, but I can help.

Jungwon thinks of Heeseung who hasn’t called in a couple of months, Jongseong who doesn’t see
the Jungwon he used to know in him, and Sunghoon who walked away because Jungwon asked
him to.

He looks at Sunoo, grabs his outstretched hand, and cries. Jungwon cries for the first time in years.
This time, it’s in Kim Sunoo’s embrace.

Sunoo gives Jungwon a ring at some point; it’s silver and smooth, Sunoo wears a matching one on
his own hand. When they lock their pinkies together while strolling through the quad, the rings
glint in the sun.

Around Sunoo, Jungwon laughs and smiles; he glitters like an iridescent moon in the face of
Sunoo’s sunshine. They spend hours in the library studying for tests, chilly evenings hidden in
hole-in-the-wall noodle cafes gossiping about their classmates, late nights under Sunoo’s duvet
watching trashy chick flicks.

Jungwon finds comfort in the suspicious stain on Sunoo’s secondhand couch, in the dent by his
shoe rack from when Sunoo had kicked the wall while trying to fit into shoes two sizes too small,
in the empty juice bottles he collects out of habit because Sunoo makes keychains out of the
plastic.

Kim Sunoo is his best friend in the way no one else ever was. Kim Sunoo gives him comfort and
kindness and teaches him to put himself first. Jungwon learns how to prioritize, Sunoo helps.

Sunoo guides but he does not push. Jungwon’s always been around people much older than him, a
sign of maturity in early childhood. Heeseung: three years older, Sunghoon and Jay: two. With
Sunoo there’s less than a year difference, yet he has more nurture in his nature than almost anyone
else Jungwon knows.

Sunoo doesn’t dote, not the way Jungwon’s older friends used to. He’s honest and he’s upfront, he
doesn’t coddle but he doesn’t cut either. Sunoo is balanced and emotionally available and
everything Jungwon would love to be one day.

Sunoo teaches Jungwon to put himself first; he teaches philautia: self-love. Sunoo is singing in the
shower and selfie sticks, camcorders and vanity mirrors, lipstick on the bathroom sink and picnic
blankets on grassy meadows. Sunoo is philautia.

ludus (n.)
flirtatious, rambunctious love

Jungwon meets Nishimura Riki at the start of the second semester of his third year.

(That’s not true, Riki’s been here all along, Jungwon just wasn’t paying much attention)

He sits beside him in a class Jungwon doesn’t ever remember the name of and asks to borrow a
pencil on the first day of the semester. Jungwon gives him a ballpoint pen with a pretty gold tip and
swirly engravings to use instead.

They know of each other from the dance team, but they don’t know each other, not until they’re
exchanging notes and kicking one another under the table, snickering behind their hands at how
stupid the professor’s haircut looks. Riki is fun and loud and free. He doesn’t care what people
think and isn’t easily hurt by cruel barbs and knives aimed at him to draw blood.

It’s perfect for Jungwon: easy, carefree, and with no expectations. Riki is fun. He’s harmless and
youthful, armed with nothing but a half-cocked grin and a backpack that only carries his Switch
and the gold-tipped pen Jungwon gave him to borrow. Jungwon feels no gravity dragging him back
towards Riki every time; when they meet, it’s spontaneous and light. There’s no pressure to say the
right thing or make the right move.

Riki buys him coffee and Jungwon links their ankles under the table. Jungwon buys Riki a new
paint set because the younger has been complaining about how crusty his current paints are getting,
and Riki watches him in silent awe for the rest of his lesson.

The dance team goes out to a bar one Friday night, and Jungwon finds himself across from Riki.
He’s had two light drinks; the world is a little sparkly around the edges, there are bubbles in his
gut, and Jungwon’s laughing at even Riki’s worst jokes.

Riki’s eyes are shiny and dark, his face zooms in and out of the light as the strobe lights dim to the
rhythm around them. Most of the rest of the team is doing exactly what they’re supposed to at a
place like this: dancing. Riki and Jungwon, future co-captains of the dance team, are sitting at a
table and talking about nothing instead.

Riki leans forward, presumably to hear Jungwon better over the music. Jungwon scoots to the edge
of the chair out of obligation, gripping the underside until his knuckles strain. Riki has that look on
his face, a look Jungwon knows.

It’s a look he first saw on Jongseong that chilly November evening in the park. It’s the same look
Sunghoon had on his face when he crowded Jungwon against the wall outside the athletic center
last spring.

“Can I kiss you?” Riki asks. He’s polite, so sweet, really, truly wonderful.

Riki asks if he can kiss him. Jungwon smiles—he hopes it looks cheeky and not sad—and says no.

Riki tilts his head to the side, not moving away. He examines Jungwon’s face, narrowing his eyes
and trying to decide whether Jungwon’s playing hard to get or genuinely means what he says. He
must find the answer he’s looking for because he pulls away with a nod and takes a swig of his
tequila.

“Why not?” It’s not accusatory, just curious.

Riki doesn’t look particularly hurt or offended, just confused. Jungwon understands, it really feels
like they had a good thing going. From Riki’s position, they were steadily working towards
something bigger. To Jungwon, it wasn’t quite the same.

Jungwon sighs, sinking back into his chair; letting his playful grin fade into something more
honest. Riki must see something in his face because he softens in return, leaning back on the hind
legs of his chair.

Jungwon thinks about how he’s just started talking to Heeseung again and is working towards
telling him about Sunghoon, giving him the explanation he deserves about Jungwon’s sudden
disappearance. He thinks about how he’s still trying to build up the confidence to ask Jongseong
for some space because for some reason seeing him still hurts when it shouldn’t and that’s an
embarrassing fact to confront. He thinks about the mistakes he made with Sunghoon, and about
how Sunoo has been building him back up piece by piece.
Sunoo built Jungwon’s confidence up and Riki is proof that it’s not all unfounded.

That’s what Riki is. His very existence gives Jungwon confidence. They’re fun and flirty and light,
but at the end of the day, there are no strings attached.

Jungwon doesn’t think it’d be fair to himself or Riki to drag the younger into the deep end. Not
when Jungwon’s still catching his breath from his last dive. He doesn’t have the mental or physical
capacity to juggle one more person in his heart right now.

Riki is excellent, incredible, amazing. The kind of person Jungwon would love to love. But he
can’t, not right now.

Jungwon tells Riki this candidly. He’s just not ready. It’s just not a good time.

Riki nods again, considering.

“I could wait,” he says quietly. Jungwon’s heart breaks and bleeds onto the table. He gives Riki a
watery smile.

“You could, but you shouldn’t.”

Riki frowns, swallowing. Jungwon follows the bob of his Adam's apple. “Who are you to decide
that for me?”

Jungwon shrugs. “No one,” he murmurs quietly. He doubts Riki can hear him over the din of the
bustling bar.

Riki stands up and holds out a hand, offering. “Let’s dance,” he proposes.

Jungwon looks up at him. If Riki were Jongseong he’d say let’s get out of here. But Riki is not
Jongseong, Riki doesn’t want what Jongseong wanted. Riki just wants to have fun. Riki just wants
to dance.
Jungwon takes his hand. They dance.

Even after the night at the bar, especially after the night at the bar, Riki doesn’t stop being fun. He
still makes Jungwon blush and giggle like a school kid on Valentine's day. Every time Jungwon
sees him, he’s filled with giddy anticipation to see what antics Riki will pull today, he wonders
what reactions he can pull from the younger. It’s fun, it’s sweet, it’s silly.

But it’s nothing more than that.

Riki teaches Jungwon ludus: flirtatious, playful love. Riki is gumball machines and melting ice
cream cones, passing notes in class and cartoon bandaids, low lights and glittery disco balls. Riki is
ludus.

agape (n.)
a love for life itself

Sim Jaeyun is godsent, Jungwon thinks. Jaeyun is pure and wonderful and attractive and perfect,
perfect, perfect.

A year after he graduates, Jungwon meets a man who is unabashedly enamored with life. Jaeyun
can talk about the theory of relativity and the meteoric rise of the music industry, the reason birds
chirp in the morning, and why the sun turns the sky pink when it rises and falls for hours upon
hours. He lives here, in this moment.

Jaeyun is driven but content, he wants things but he’s understanding when he doesn’t get them all
the same. He’s sweet and he’s smart and he comes into Jungwon’s life when he’s ready.

Jungwon leaves university after having found two of his closest life friends. Sunoo never left his
side after they first met, and Riki became Jungwon’s other closest confidant over the course of
their last year as co-captains of the dance team.

He and Riki never worked out romantically—and Jungwon might hold quiet sorrow in his heart
about that forever—but they’re destined all the same.
In fact, it’s thanks to Riki and Sunoo’s gaming group that he meets Jaeyun in the first place. It’s at
a dinner in the city that Jungwon gets dragged along to because one of the guys from the group
bailed last minute and it’d be a waste of a perfectly good reservation if someone didn’t fill the spot.

Jaeyun is charming from the beginning of the evening, and by the end of the dinner, Jungwon has
the elder’s number safely tucked into his phone and a warm flush high on his cheeks. Jaeyun
pointed out their rosy hue and Jungwon didn’t know how to tell him that the color is usually closer
to petal pink than crimson red without ousting himself. Sunoo and Riki teased him about it for
weeks. Weeks became months which became years.

Jaeyun takes him out to parks late at night, to beaches on balmy evenings. Jaeyun asks Jungwon
what he wants to do every week, and encourages him with gentle leading questions if Jungwon just
shrugs his shoulders. They go to arcades and movie theaters, diners and drive-thrus.

Jaeyun holds him close to his heart, collecting all of his fragmented parts and pulling them to his
chest when the night is cold or Jungwon’s eyes are filled with melted snowflakes and shards of
fractured ice. Jaeyun is warm and understanding and lets Jungwon lie on his chest and listen to his
heartbeat, tracing mindless shapes on his arm as the hearth casts a glow upon his features.

Jaeyun kisses him like they have all the time in the world on some days, and like the world is
ending on others. He’s push and he’s pull and he’s love in every sense of the word.

Jaeyun looks at him so fondly when Jungwon gets excited, he makes Jungwon happy to smile, he
makes Jungwon want to smile more, just to see the love in Jaeyun’s eyes shine a little brighter.
Jungwon learns to find love in everything and joy in the world that surrounds him because that’s
what Jaeyun makes him want to do.

He introduces Jaeyun to Jongseong who Jungwon knows is his soulmate in every universe. It
doesn’t hurt to look at Jongseong anymore—not since Jungwon’s pieces have been fused back
together, molten gold filling the cracks in his heart. Jongseong is happy, so happy for Jungwon.
Jungwon is happy for himself.

Jaeyun meets Heeseung under suboptimal conditions. After Jungwon’s grandfather passes away, he
rushes home, thrown back into a world that looks stained in watery sunshine and bruised knees,
yellow school buses and cracked mugs. Jungwon clutches to Heeseung like they were never apart
in the first place—an ode to the storge pulsing in their bond. Jeongwoo is there and Heeseung is
there, and now Jaeyun is there too. Jungwon’s worlds come crashing together and a piece of his
heart shatters from the impact.
Jaeyun stays by his side as Jungwon adjusts his grandmother to living alone. He’s gentle hands and
warm, comforting smiles. Jungwon’s halmeoni pulls Jungwon to the side and whispers in his ear,
“He’s one to keep.”

Jungwon breathes in the comforting smell of home: the soft lavenders and meadow grass, baby
powder and old rubber tires, and cries into her cardigan. He can’t tell if they’re tears of relief or
mourning, of hope for what is to come or regret for what is already lost. She pets his hair gently,
murmuring sweet things like Jungwon’s still her baby boy with scrapes on his knees, and he
clutches to her tighter. He falls asleep with his head on her lap and papery lips pressed to his
forehead.

Jungwon is out shopping for furniture for his and Jaeyun’s new apartment when he runs into none
other than Park Sunghoon. They smile, grab a coffee, and chat.

Sunghoon is happy. He has a girlfriend and a job he loves; he found the key to someone else's
heart. They joke and they swap stories and maybe there are some misty eyes, but they don’t
exchange phone numbers. Sunghoon and Jungwon were temporary, fate brings them together for a
fleeting moment that is enough to soothe both of their hearts.

Jungwon watches Jaeyun with a smile on his face. Jaeyun is gorgeous: smiling like he’s the king of
the world, the sun framing him in fiery orange. The sand is at his feet, the ocean’s at his back, and
the sky towers above him, yet Jaeyun is the most beautiful thing in sight. He runs up to Jungwon,
swinging him off his feet in a fit of joyous laughter, and setting him back down with a flourish only
after Jungwon demands he does so. Jaeyun shakes his head like a dog, water droplets splattering
over Jungwon’s sunburnt nose, his cheeks, his eyelashes.

Jaeyun grins and Jungwon grins back, letting the elder frame his face in his hands and kiss him as
if he wants to steal the very air out of his lungs. Jaeyun’s lips are salty and his hands are cold, but
Jungwon’s never tasted anything sweeter or felt quite this warm.

This world: the world that told him he couldn’t have Heeseung, that tore him and Jongseong apart;
the world that didn’t let him commit to Sunghoon, that kept Sunoo just out of reach; the world that
gave him Riki before he was healed, but Jaeyun when he was ready. This world isn’t perfect.
 Yet, in this world, Jungwon finds agape in Jaeyun: a love for life itself. Jaeyun is love. He’s the
skies and the seas and the very earth itself to Jungwon. Jaeyun is agape.

pragma (n.)
committed, long-term love

Jungwon is too young to have learned pragma. He hopes that it will be Jaeyun to teach him and
him to teach Jaeyun, but if he’s learned anything in this life, it’s to expect the unexpected.

Jungwon has found storge in Heeseung, philia in Jongseong, eros in Sunghoon, philautia in Sunoo,
ludus in Riki, and agape in Jaeyun. These are people he’s loved, loves, and will love. Jungwon has
only just begun.

Bruised knees, park benches, tangled sheets, dented walls, playful winks, and forevers. Jungwon
found love in all of these things.

Jungwon has loved, he loves, and he will love. Jungwon was then, he is now, and he will be.
Jungwon has loved six times, he loves one now, and he will love.

Jungwon will love.

End Notes

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