Chapter Text
That night, after Byeol was asleep, Hongjoong found Seonghwa in the kitchen, rinsing dishes.
"Hey," he said softly.
Seonghwa glanced over his shoulder. "Hey."
Hongjoong hesitated, then stepped closer, drying a plate beside him. The silence stretched, warm but weighted.
Finally, he said, "I need to ask you something."
Seonghwa looked at him fully, brows raised. "What?"
Hongjoong's heart thudded. He set the plate down, hands trembling slightly. "I've lost too many years already. I don't want to waste more. Hwa—will you marry me?"
Seonghwa froze, water dripping from his fingers. “… What?"
"I mean it." Hongjoong's voice cracked. "Not a contract. Not paper someone else pushed at me. I want you. I want us. I want to wake up with you every day, watch her grow up together, argue over grocery lists, all of it. I want everything."
Seonghwa blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing. His lips trembled. “… You're supposed to get on one knee."
Hongjoong laughed wetly, dropping down instantly. He fumbled for his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box he'd been carrying for weeks. "Better?"
Seonghwa covered his mouth with his hand, tears spilling despite himself. "You ridiculous man."
"Yes," Hongjoong pleaded. "Please say yes."
The apartment was silent except for Byeol's soft snores down the hall. Then Seonghwa's hand lowered, trembling as he touched Hongjoong's face.
"Yes," he whispered. "Of course, yes."
Hongjoong laughed, relief breaking out of him in a rush. He slid the ring onto Seonghwa's finger with shaking hands, then stood and pulled him into a kiss that tasted like years of longing finally met.
⋆⭒°.⋆ 🐿 ⋆⭒°.⋆
The wedding was small but perfect.
Yunho and Mingi stood proud at the front, fingers linked openly. Yeosang and Jongho pretended to be composed but sniffled into tissues halfway through. Wooyoung sobbed dramatically into San's shoulder, wailing, "My best friend is married!"
San whispered, "We're married too," but Wooyoung only sobbed louder.
Byeol walked down the aisle with squirrel tucked under one arm, scattering flower petals like confetti.
When Hongjoong saw Seonghwa at the end of the aisle, dressed in white, his knees nearly gave out. He whispered, "Beautiful," like a prayer.
Their vows were simple, honest. Hongjoong's voice shook. "I promise to love you both with everything I am. To never disappear again. To make every day count."
Seonghwa's eyes shone. "I promise to let you. To believe in you. To keep our family safe."
When they kissed, Byeol clapped wildly, shouting, "Yay! Appa and Dad!"
Everyone laughed through tears. And yes, the cake was strawberry flavoured, just as Byeol likes it.
⋆⭒°.⋆ 🐿 ⋆⭒°.⋆
The tiny apartment was quiet when they returned. Byeol had fallen asleep at Yunho and Mingi's place after insisting on one more round of hide-and-seek with Haneul. Squirrel had gone with her, faithfully tucked under her arm. For the first time in months, the little home belonged only to the two of them.
Hongjoong closed the door behind them and leaned back against it, exhaling. His suit jacket was half-off, his tie crooked. Seonghwa, still in white, glowed even under the weak lamplight.
"You're staring," Seonghwa murmured, tugging at the pins in his hair.
"I'm allowed," Hongjoong said, his voice hoarse. "You're my husband."
The word hung between them, soft and powerful. Seonghwa froze, then smiled, shy and brilliant all at once.
"Say it again," he whispered.
"My husband," Hongjoong repeated, stepping closer, cupping his cheek. "My everything."
Their mouths met—slow at first, careful, like they were learning each other all over again. But the years they'd lost pressed at the edges, breaking through. Soon the kiss deepened, hungry and tender all at once, Seonghwa clutching at his shirt like he might disappear.
They stumbled toward the bedroom, laughter spilling when Hongjoong nearly tripped over his own shoes. "We're terrible newlyweds," he muttered against Seonghwa's lips.
"Practice makes perfect," Seonghwa whispered back, pulling him down onto the bed.
Clothes came off in clumsy pieces, more giggles than grace, until they were tangled in sheets and nerves. Hongjoong paused, his forehead resting against Seonghwa's, breath trembling.
"Tell me you want this," he whispered, voice raw.
"I've only ever wanted this," Seonghwa answered, eyes shining.
Whatever space remained between them vanished. They kissed like it was the first time, like it was the last, like the universe had been waiting for this moment. Hands roamed carefully at first, then with more confidence, mapping each other's skin like a secret finally shared.
Seonghwa gasped when Hongjoong pressed kisses down his throat, his chest. "Joong—"
"Let me," Hongjoong pleaded, lifting his head. "Please let me take care of you."
Seonghwa’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb stroking softly. “You already do.”
The night unfolded gently, reverently. Their movements were unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. Gasps turned into laughter, laughter into sighs, sighs into whispered names.
When it was too much, they slowed. When it wasn’t enough, they pulled closer. It wasn’t perfect—it was better. It was real.
Hours later, when exhaustion finally claimed them, Hongjoong lay with Seonghwa tucked into his arms, his lips pressed against his temple.
“No more running,” Hongjoong whispered into the dark. “No more missed years. You’re it for me, Hwa. Always.”
Seonghwa’s eyes fluttered shut, his fingers curling into Hongjoong’s shirt. “Always,” he echoed, voice soft but steady.
They drifted off like that, limbs entwined, two halves finally whole.
And for the first time, Seonghwa was cherished not in fleeting touches or drunken fragments, but fully, endlessly, exactly as he deserved.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ 🐿 ⋆⭒˚.⋆
The morning after, the first thing Seonghwa noticed was the weight around his waist. The second was the warmth pressed firmly against his back.
He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the morning light that filtered through the thin curtains. Hongjoong’s arm was draped across him, tight and secure, his breath warm against the crook of Seonghwa’s neck.
For a moment, Seonghwa stayed still, listening. Hongjoong’s breathing was even, steady, his chest rising and falling against his back. His fingers flexed faintly where they rested on Seonghwa’s stomach, like even in sleep he couldn’t bear to let go.
Something inside Seonghwa ached, soft and sweet.
He turned slightly, just enough to see his husband’s face. Hongjoong’s hair was a mess, his lashes long, his mouth relaxed in a way Seonghwa rarely saw. Without thinking, Seonghwa reached up and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.
“Staring already?” Hongjoong’s voice was rough with sleep, a smile tugging at his lips without opening his eyes.
Seonghwa flushed. “Go back to sleep.”
“No,” Hongjoong murmured, pulling him closer. “Not when I’ve got you like this.”
They lay in silence for a while, tangled together, listening to the world outside slowly waking. Eventually, Seonghwa sighed and tried to sit up.
“Where are you going?”
“To make breakfast,” Seonghwa said, reaching for his robe.
Hongjoong caught his wrist. “You’re not allowed to cook the morning after our wedding.”
“And why not?”
“Because I am,” Hongjoong declared, rolling out of bed with all the grace of a drunk giraffe. He grabbed the first piece of clothing in sight—Seonghwa’s apron—and tied it over his bare chest, grinning proudly.
Seonghwa buried his face in his hands. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it,” Hongjoong shot back, heading toward the kitchen.
Seonghwa followed reluctantly, tugging one of Hongjoong’s shirts over his head. It fit him just fine, the sleeves covering his hands, and when Hongjoong turned to see, he froze.
“…You’re never giving that back,” Hongjoong said seriously.
“It’s my shirt now,” Seonghwa replied, smirking faintly.
Hongjoong groaned dramatically, clutching his chest. “Hwa, we just got married and already you’re stealing from me.”
They ended up cooking together—Hongjoong burning the eggs twice, Seonghwa laughing so hard he nearly dropped the rice cooker lid. In the end, breakfast was edible, barely, and they sat at the table still wearing each other’s clothes, giggling like teenagers.
As Seonghwa sipped his tea, Hongjoong reached across the table and caught his hand. His thumb stroked slowly over the new ring on Seonghwa’s finger.
“Morning, husband,” Hongjoong said softly.
Seonghwa’s chest tightened. “Morning, husband.”
And just like that, in their little apartment with mismatched plates and overcooked eggs, it felt like forever had already begun.