Sun began to seep through the windows.

"Jongho," Yunho began, "after he took the pills, he wrote a note."

Yunho Hyung, Eomma, Mama.
I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I can't figure
out how to be better for you. I love you.
I love you. Please forgive me.
-C. J.

"He didn't get it," Yunho looked at his nephew with pleading eyes. "We didn't want him better. We just wanted him. Jongho didn't need to become well for us, we wanted him happy for himself. He didn't," Yunho choked on his own tears. "He didn't believe we loved him as he was. And he couldn't accept that he wasn't better than he was. He didn't believe I forgave him, every single time."

Yeosang was quiet, shifting under covers. He saw the morning sun begin to dance through the windows, over the blankets, glowing over his skin.

"So do you understand?" Yunho asked, begging, hoping.

And Yeosang looked up with teary eyes. "Understand what?"

"The story, Yeosang-ah." He pleaded with the younger. "Do you understand its moral."

Yeosang stills for a moment, trying to think through his tears. "Yeah. . ." He sighed, playing with the sunbeams. But then threw his hands forcefully onto the duvet. "But Uncle Yunho, I can't do it! I can't just go back-- His face, Seonghwa's face when he saw." And he began to tear anew.

But Yunho wasn't having it, not that morning, not after that night. "Yeosang." He started with force. "You've got to forget that face, forget how much you think you hurt him because you don't know, you can not know what Seonghwa is thinking without talking to him!"

Yeosang was in an agonizing state of civil war; morals against morals.

He kept wiping his face and Yunho reached over, swatted the hands away. "Stop touching your face, you'll break out." He deadpanned, trying for a moment to ease the tense situation.

But Yeosang scoffed out a bitter laugh. "I can't break out, I'm a Shin-bi."

Huh? Yunho looked to him.

"It's," the younger tried, quietly now. "I-It's what Seonghwa calls me. . ."

Yunho's eyes widened and he laughed. "Your Soul calls you a God-given-visual?! Yeah," the laughing calmed. "Keep that man."

But Yeosang merely smiled, bittersweet.

As the sun continued to rise, they were quiet, caught up in their thoughts. Yunho's of the past and Yeosang's for the future.

"Do you love him?" Yunho broke the quiet and Yeosang looked up, shocked. "I- of c-course I love him."

"And does he love you?"

The younger scoffed again; he was developing quite a habit. "He says he does, but how could-"

"No, Yeosang-ah, don't you trust him?" Yunho took his nephew by the shoulders. "I ask again, does he love you?"

"Yes."

Yunho continued holding the other's shoulders. "And do you think you'll cheat again?"

"NO." He practically shouted; Yeosang said this firmly, finally with conviction. "I will never hurt him like that again." And Yunho smiled, triumphant.

"Yeosang," the older started, looking at the boy, "You say he's a better man than you, a better person, and I won't debate that now," Yunho shook his head. "But, Yeosang, if he is all you say he is, don't you think he'll forgive you?"

"I would give anything," Yunho continued, "to go back, go back and tell Jongho to come to me, to tell him I forgive him and love him, that I was barely even upset with him in the first place. So," Yunho stated boldly, eyes burning with passion for the younger. "Go. Go to Seonghwa now."

Yeosang's eyes widened, "B-but--" he breathed and Yunho raised his brows as if to say, you're still resisting?

The blond then shook his head before nodding; Yes. "Okay." His eyes now narrowed and voice laced with determination. "Yes," Yeosang repeated, stronger. "Let's go."

Chock full of coffee and another cup in hand, Yeosang started the long drive home.

That year, Appa had started to grow Seonghwa's favorite flowers in their garden. Thankfully, marigolds bloomed well into autumn. Yeosang needed a peace offering.

~~~

After Seonghwa's early lunch, he made his way through campus. Expertly weaving through the sun, through the trees, taking the path he had shown Yeosang all that time ago.

As he jogged, Seonghwa's mind replayed their last day over and over. How nervous Yeosang had been about going to a club, about what drink to order, how Seonghwa had assured him all would be well.

How happy the younger looked with his perfectly made face - something Seonghwa himself could never replicate - and the sparkling gems encasing the soulmark next to his eye that Yeosang proudly wore.

How Yeosang had insisted on them wearing matching leather jackets. How Yeosang insisted on holding Seonghwa's hand. . .

Finally arriving at the parking structure, Seonghwa held his keys aloft and pressed the lock; he followed the beep, beep through the sun-lit garage.

Tossing his bag in the back, and climbing into the driver's seat, he started the ignition.

((A/N for some sadistic reason my brain here said "and the car exploded." and I wanted to cry. no.))

Backing up, Seonghwa tried to think of what he would say. He had no plan save a determination to see his Soul, to talk with him and tell him it was okay.

Maybe it was the bond, maybe it was simply how well Seonghwa knew the younger, but he swore he could feel Yeosang's guilt. Although now, that feeling was beginning to let up.

I'm sorry, Seonghwa decided would be his first words when they met. Because he was the hyung, he shouldn't have gone two whole weeks, not even days, without speaking with the younger.

Even though he knew Yeosang needed to apologize in oder to heal their relationship, Seonghwa wanted to be first.

He saw a sign in a shop window as he drove, Say it With Flowers, and Seonghwa pulled into the florist's lot.

A bell tingled above the door as he entered, bowing to the elderly lady weaving flower crowns behind the counter.

She set the stems down. "Hello, dear. What can I help you with today?"

Seonghwa looked around at the overflowing colors, and his eyes caught on a bucket of red roses. Yeosang's favorite color. . . (Well, besides black and he certainly wasn't getting his Soul black roses).

The florist noticed where his eyes were drawn and smiled. "Pick the ones you want and I'll wrap them up for you."

So Seonghwa pulled out nine roses, one for each month they'd been together.

"Are these for your Soul?" She asked. And Seonghwa blushed, nodding, trying to hide his smile by biting his cheek, but the woman just chuckled. "Young love."

The roses were wrapped in beautiful pink and white paper, with a white ribbon tied round the stems. He paid and Seonghwa was back in the car, only blocks away from the Kang-Moon house.

Seonghwa pulled into the drive and spotted Yeosang's silver car around back. Breathe, he said. He was finally feeling nervous.

What if Yeosang really was done? What if he didn't regret it?

But leaving the warmth of his car, leaving the thoughts behind, Seonghwa sprinted to the porch, to the door, and knocked.

***

A/N: 1-10-21 🥳🥳🎉 AHH after so much pain I cannot say how excited I was while writing this chapter