cross your fingers, here we go 

overthemoonshine

The thing is, Kihyun has never quite been able to say no to Hyungwon. Sure, he puts up a good fight; he makes a great show of protesting, kicking his heels and screaming, ridiculing and poking holes in Hyungwon’s suggestions — but.

But, he never says no.

It’s perhaps the reason why The First Day of Summer has persisted for as long as it has, ever since they’d first commemorated it in middle school, together with Minhyuk. The tradition has outlasted their seemingly never-ending, frankly fraught obsession with Pokémon (that had started too many cold wars due to jealousy over cards collected) and outlived the few years of highschool where they were convinced they were going to start a band or an idol group or something equally silly like that.

​

(“I mean, you can sing,” Hyungwon furrowed his brow, as if he didn’t quite buy whatever he was saying. It’d be more convincing if he hadn’t been the first person to shoot to his feet in applause, when Kihyun had performed at their highschool’s talent show, earlier this month. As if Hyungwon hadn’t spent the past few weeks bitching about the talentless violin player who’d usurped Kihyun’s first-place trophy.

“Way better than you,” Kihyun shot back, without much heat. “What can you do anyway?”

“Hmm,” Hyungwon sniffed, taking his time to stand up slowly so that he was towering over Kihyun. “Someone needs to make up for the visual crater you’ll be causing in our group.”)

​

 

As it is, The First Day of Summer originally starts because Minhyuk cruelly abandons them for a family trip when they are 13. 

“Just because my brother did well on his exams,” Minhyuk scoffs, despite bragging to them about how many figurines he was going to buy at Akihabara, ever since the trip was confirmed. They’ve got a couple of minutes before school starts and Minhyuk is on time for once. He’s leaning so far back on his chair that he’d give himself a brain injury if he topples over, “Like they didn’t even care that I didn’t fail my shit this year.”

“Maybe you’d have done better if you weren’t so busy thirsting over fictional characters,” Kihyun’s second guessing whether his quip had been too mean, but Hyungwon bursts out laughing. The tightness in his chest loosens, the product of still finding his footing in a new friendship group.

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” Minhyuk pouts; he snaps forward and tries to jab at Hyungwon’s side, but Hyungwon dodges it easily, twisting away.

“I don’t think Kihyun is any fun,” Hyungwon says; and Kihyun only responds with a scoff, ignoring the cold wave that washes over him.

The truth is: Kihyun is nervous about spending time with Hyungwon, without the loud-mouthed antics of Minhyuk as a buffer.

Despite how well the school year has gone, he’s well-aware of the wide gulf between his tenuous one year of friendship with both Hyungwon and Minyhuk and the entire lifetime that the two have spent together. It hadn’t been the easiest transition: transferring to a new school in the middle of the year because of a change in his father’s job; and it had just been luck that Minhyuk was his desk partner in class.

Just from volume alone and the sheer number of words he spoke daily, MInhyuk’s been the easier of the two to read. Hyungwon, who’s in another class, who joins them to hang out in their class whenever he can, remains inscrutable, mysterious — a friend only by proxy of Minhyuk’s sunshine exuberance.

(It irks Kihyun, at times — still does; as if Hyungwon’s judging him, as if he’s too handsome to grace mortals with proper conversation.)

Yet, it’s Hyungwon who shows up, unannounced, on Kihyun’s doorstep, the day after Minhyuk leaves for Japan. “Left a book in Minhyuk’s room. Want to get it with me?” he says, in lieu of a greeting.

It takes more than a few seconds for Kihyun to process that Hyungwon is standing in front of him, before he musters up a less-than-satisfactory retort, “You’re saying, you want to break into Minhyuk’s house just to be a nerd?”

Hyungwon shrugs, “It doesn’t count as breaking in if he gave me the keys.”

“That’s stupid.” They both know Kihyun’s response is pretty weak.

“Yeah,” Hyungwon still has the grace to reply. It sends a surge of irritation through Kihyun, at how comfortable he seems in his skin, even in somewhere as liminal as a person’s front door, “Isn’t that what Summer is for?”

When they make it to Minhyuk’s home, they take a photograph together.

Right before the shutter goes off, Hyungwon slings an arm around Kihyun’s shoulder, pulling him down hard and disrupting the shot.

The result: a blurry photograph of a half-scowling Kihyun and a beaming Hyungwon, amidst the messy debris of Minhyuk’s room. It’s perhaps a burst of sentimentality, of years gone by, that Kihyun has this grainy shot printed out; displays it, now, as part of the many other photographs he has of his life, in his living room.

(They meet every day, after that, for the rest of vacation.)

The second edition of The First Day of Summer sees the three of them attempting to sneak into a bar and getting thrown out almost immediately. Hyungwon doesn’t even have the courtesy to look apologetic at the failed quest he’d sent them on.

The rest of the evening is wasted with squabbling over video-games and worrying about whether the bar owner would make good on their promise and snitch on them to their parents.
 

Kihyun misses the summer when they’re 16 because of a family trip back to his hometown. He pretends that the blazing jealousy that burns through him, everytime he opens their group chat to a selca of Minhyuk and Hyungwon having fun somewhere without him, is just the summer heat, beating down on him.

“Seems like you guys had a ton of fun,” Kihyun says non-chantly, when he finally returns.

The ends of Hyungwon’s lips quirk upwards, “It would have been more fun if you’d been around.”

​

 

At age 17, Kihyun suggests a campfire in the neighbourhood playground.

“There are other ways to be hot, you know,” Hyungwon comments. Because, of course, tall-and-perfectly-proportionated (not that Kihyun’s looking, because he doesn’t give a shit) Hyungwon would say something like that carelessly.

Even so, the three of them sneak into the playground in the middle of the night, carrying paper bags of oil-soaked newspaper and as many twigs as they’d been able to collect over the few days before.

The flames lick greedily at the summer breeze, growing larger and bold in the muggy evening air. Across the campfire, Kihyun sees the orange flicker dancing across Hyungwon’s face, casting shadows and throwing light. It’s no wonder that half the school is in love with him.

As if sensing his gaze on him, Hyungwon looks up and locks eyes with him; yet, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t call him out for looking. There’s an unfamiliar expression on his face, and it reminds Kihyun of all those years ago, when Hyungwon had been aloof and unreadable. 

It’s the warmth of the campfire that's churning in Kihyun’s stomach.

“Ki —” Minhyuk’s tugging on his sleeve beside him, breaking him out of his daze. “Maybe we should do something about that?”

That is an understatement for how large the fire has grown; and Kihyun startles, jumping into action immediately to stop their summer ritual from burning down their entire neighbourhood. 

Hyungwon’s laughter rings his ears, long after the smoke faded into the starry night sky.

​

 

At 19, the three of them tumble into a tattoo shop.

Well, at the expense of taking away from the coolness of the statement, it had been a pre-planned excursion, with Kihyun nervously messaging the tattoo artist a few weeks before to secure their appointment. Even then, it feels exciting and thrilling; although this feeling of doing something illicit quickly dissipates when they enter the tattoo studio. 

The space is well-kept and neat (and Kihyun’s already taking notes for how he’d like to decorate his future apartment). There’s even a potted plant placed at the end of the space, as if this is another one of those neat cafes you find in Seongsu.

Kihyun doesn't realise he’s stalled in the doorway, until there’s hot breath, wet and disgusting, in his ear. “What — you scared?” Hyungwon’s words are a low timber.

“Please, I bet you’ll cry first,” Kihyun replies, a retort more than second nature despite being surprised by Hyungwon looming up behind him. He rolls his eyes, like Hyungwon had been the pest holding up everyone, “Stop wasting time. We’re already late, you know.”

(Out of the three, Minhyuk ends up being the bravest, barely even batting an eye when the tattoo artist starts on the huge whale across his knee.

Kihyun chooses a musical note just above his heart; he grips Hyungwon’s hand so tightly throughout the process that the latter complains he’d be billing Kihyun his hospital fee for broken bones.

“That’s so tiny it looks like a mole,” Hyungwon guffaws, not unkindly, not exactly. They’re tucked onto a couch together, waiting for Minhyuk to be done with his design.

“You don’t even know how to swim,” Kihyun shoots back, looking up from his phone to shove the latter with his shoulder; Hyungwon had chosen a simple line drawing of a wave, placed discreetly above his ankle.

Hyungwon’s expression remains unchanged, entirely unfazed by Kihyun’s tone of judgement, “I could learn.”

“You’d drown,” Kihyun doesn’t bring up how Hyungwon had been during their swimming lessons in high school. If it hadn’t been so terrifying, Kihyun would have passed out from laughing at how rapidly Hyungwon had sunk in the pool, like he’d been filled with cement instead of always being the stick-cryptid figure he was. 

“I wouldn’t, with you around,” Hyungwon shrugs, not looking at Kihyun. “You won’t let me.”)

When they turn 20, at Hyungwon’s suggestion (“We owe it to our 14 year-old selves,” Hyungwon had said, as if he needed to convince the two of them to get drunk), they celebrate by taking so many shots at the cheapest bar that had popped up on Naver that Kihyun continues to see stars for days.

“Alcohol is shit,” Kihyun declares in between their 7th and 16th shots that night. Sprawled out on a dirty couch in the bar, possibly for this specific purpose (sober Kihyun would never have let his friends near a biohazard like that), Minhyuk is already snoring

“You’re shit,” Hyungwon responds; as he downs another shot of clear alcohol in one breath. Victorious, Hyungwon spins triumphantly on the bar stool that he’s seated on, knees knocking against Kihyun has he turns. His slender fingers are curled around the empty glass, one eyebrow cocked at Kihyun like a challenge — and what else is Kihyun to do?

The next shot (some bright blue concoction that the bartender had eagerly served them) burns like hellfire down Kihyun’s throat. He rasps out, to the twinkling of Hyungwon’s alcohol-glazed eyes, “No, you’re shit.”

Kihyun doesn’t quite remember how he gets back to his university dorm; only knows that he wakes up in his tiny single bed, with a heavy arm draped around his waist. There’s a surge of panic at first as he checks first are all my clothes on? and who the hell is this with me?

“Shut up,” the person next to him mumbles, against the pillow they have their face hidden against, arm tightening around him. Kihyun freezes, as the familiar voice continues, “It’s too early to be awake yet.”

The figure shifts and comes into view: it’s Hyungwon — and instead of abating, Kihyun’s panic increases. Hyungwon, in his bed?

Kihyun chooses the easier question, “And Minh —”

“There,” Hyungwon answers, with a tiny groan at still being kept awake. There refers to the floor, where Minhyuk, still dressed in the previous night’s clothes, is curled up and snoring away gently.

“Go back to sleep,” there’s a touch of impatience in Hyungwon’s voice now. But if Hyungwon hadn’t mentioned anything more, then, well. Then, Kihyun finds his head is still pounding from the previous night. 

Hyungwon says again, more insistent, tugging him backwards, “Sleep.”

Kihyun feels himself falling back against his soft bed, eyes closing shut. Hyungwon’s a soft warmth against him, he realises, as he drifts back into slumber.

(Hyungwon starts dating someone a month or so after. 

“He’s doing Biz Ad too, a year above us,” Hyungwon says, one day at lunch. Minhyuk pounces on him, demanding more information about this mysterious beau who’d seemingly popped up out of nowhere; but Kihyun barely registers any additional details about this supposed boyfriend.

There’s a sour taste in Kihyun’s mouth. He doesn’t think about Hyungwon’s arm around him and Hyungwon doesn’t look at him, not even once, for the rest of the meal.)

Minhyuk isn’t around in the summer when they’re 21. Despite his terrible English (he makes up for his lack of vocabulary with sheer confidence), he’s scored a place in an exchange year abroad with an art school in the States; and he’d flown off a few weeks before summer break started.

It’d be weird to spend a year without Minhyuk’s presence; and it had been a strange semester, even with Minhyuk around. The Biz Ad, a year older than us boyfriend hadn’t been a big fan of their weird friendship group, their humour too acerbic and sharp for someone newly introduced. 

Kihyun had tried not to take it as a personal insult when Hyungwon chose to spend more time with said boyfriend than them.

Kihyun had tried not to take it as a personal insult when Hyungwon had told Minhyuk they’d broken up first, before telling him.

Even so, traditions and traditions; and Kihyun finds himself outside of Hyungwon’s dorm room, on the first day of their summer vacation. He was taking extra classes this summer and had extended his tenancy in the university dorms. 

Kihyun’s palms are sweaty — it’s the Summer heat — when he knocks.

The door opens in an instant; there’s a flash of surprise on Hyungwon’s face, like he hadn’t expected Kihyun at his doorstep.

“Want to watch a movie?” Kihyun says; doesn’t know why his heart is hammering against his chest, as if they hadn’t watched countless movies together, flung popcorn at the screen in reaction to countless dumb scenes (then cleaned up after because, “My mum will kill me if she sees this mess, I swear.”).

Hyungwon doesn’t immediately reply and Kihyun fidgets in the silence. He wants to fill it with questions like Why didn’t you tell me first? or Are you okay, really? or even, Was it that easy to stop spending time with us?

Then, Hyungwon answers, opening the door wider to let Kihyun in, “Okay.”

“Cool, I brought snacks,” Kihyun lifts the two bulging paper bags of food he’d brought along, pushing past Hyungwon to enter his room.

“I didn’t say anything about starting a buffet line in my room,” Hyungwon says, as Kihyun starts to place some of the food items onto the bookshelf that Hyungwon had designated as his pantry, since he’d moved in.

“Well,” Kihyun says, as Hyungwon examines his offerings, “Someone needs to make sure you’re feeding yourself.”

Frogwon

Thank you for coming over

since when have you thanked me ever

Frogwon

…

it’s no problem

Frogwon

And sorry, too

and since when have you apologised to me ever

you’re treating me to lunch tomorrow

see you at 1pm

Frogwon

Hah

See you tomorrow, Ki

The Summer that Minhyuk returns, he looks at them curiously; but doesn’t say anything. 

(The year without Minhyuk had passed by faster than Kihyun had thought.

It was their final year of university, after all, and Kihyun had spent most of it in a delirious fever, rushing his final thesis. Hours spent ruining his eyesight by staring too long at his laptop screen.

It is the stress of university that is the reason why his heart is pounding all the time, why his throat feels dry around Hyungwon. Why he doesn’t resist when Hyungwon threads their fingers together to haul him out of the library chair — he’s spent so much time in it, it’s molded to his body — whenever he deems it’s time they take a break.

“Fresh air,” Hyungwon says, as they make a slow loop around the campus green; he doesn’t bring up the fact that they’re still holding hands, and Kihyun doesn’t think to ask.)

“Let’s go to a water theme park,” Minhyuk announces; and Kihyun is already opening his mouth, with an alternative suggestion in mind. “The one with the crazy slides!”

Hyungwon reaches over, his fingers light on Kihyun’s wrist. “Sounds fun,” he says, a smile on his lips. 

For once, Minhyuk is discreet. 

“Do you —?” he asks, jerking his chin in the direction of Hyungwon, who’d lost a game of rock-paper-scissors and now is in line to get them all smoothies at the park.

Kihyun wonders if he should feign ignorance.

“Because, you know,” Minhyuk says sagely, like he’d just revealed the secrets of the universe; and Kihyun nods, even though he doesn’t know. It’s as if he’s said Hyungwon’s name instead, because Hyungwon looks up at them, at Kihyun watching him.

There’s a beat, then Hyungwon smiles, bright and cheery, — it makes him look younger by a million years, reminds Kihyun of the campfire, all those years ago — and shoots him a thumbs up. 

And Kihyun, smiles back.

Kihyun is now 25 and no one cares about summer, not when you’re an office worker, slogging it all out for a faceless company. 

He shouldn’t be surprised by the knock on his door, at the stroke of midnight, on the first day that summer vacation begins for students. And yet, when it comes (well, the door-bell ringing, rather than the rapping of knuckles on wood), Kihyun finds himself exhaling slowly, like he’s been holding his breath for years.

It’s Hyungwon, of course it is. Who else would it have been?

“I gave you a key,” Kihyun says, beating Hyungwon to whatever he had wanted to say. It’s true: both Hyungwon and Minhyuk had keys to the apartment; and vice-versa. He leans against the door-frame, not allowing entrance, not yet.

Hyungwon looks sheepish for a moment. “It’s the first day of Summer,” he offers, as if it were an explanation for why he’d knocked instead of sauntering in and scaring the daylights of Kihyun, like he typically does.

“So it is,” Kihyun says evenly.

“I have an idea,” Hyungwon continues, looking anywhere but at Kihyun. He’s talking to his shoes, when he says, “For what a stupid thing could be, this time.”

It’s perhaps the first time Kihyun has seen him like this. There’s laughter that’s threatening to bubble out, at how twitchy he is. It’s been more than a decade since he’s known Hyungwon, since he’d detested how mysterious Hyungwon had seemed to be, long since learnt how to decipher his expressions; but right now, in this moment, Kihyun knows.

“That’s funny,” Kihyun says, allowing a smile to creep across his face. “I have an idea for what we could do this year too.”

There must be something telling about how Kihyun says this because Hyungwon’s head snaps up, sees the way that Kihyun is beaming. It takes a moment before realisation dawns on him — because there’s no way that Hyungwon can’t read him either, not after how much time they’ve spent together.

“Why don’t you kiss me?” Hyungwon says, so quietly that if Kihyun hadn’t seen his lips move, he wouldn’t have heard him.

“Why don’t you,” Kihyun retorts, for the sake of it, because they wouldn’t be them if he didn’t.

Hyungwon lets out a laugh, all breathy and exasperated; it relaxes him, makes him look like the Hyungwon that Kihyun’s heart has known for years. 

For the sake of it, Hyungwon makes a show of rolling his eyes before he takes a step towards Kihyun; and Kihyun’s arms are already coming up, circling Hyungwon’s waist, pulling him into his home; and Hyungwon is leaning in, looking at Kihyun like he’s the only thing in the world.

(Kihyun has to revise his previous assertion: he’d thought he knew every single one of Hyungwon’s expressions.)

“Does this make you the stupid thing or me?” Hyungwon says, the breath of his words ghosting Kihyun’s lips.

“Guess,” Kihyun can’t resist the innate need to snark, even as he closes the miniscule distance between them. 

Hyungwon’s lips are soft and warm against his; the feeling goes straight to Kihyun’s stomach, warms him up from the inside, turns his legs to jelly as Hyungwon nips at his bottom lip, slow and gentle.

“I think,” Hyungwon says, his voice low; and if Kihyun hadn’t completely melted by then, he stands no chance now. “We’re both stupid for not doing this earlier.”

“Guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time then.”