flower boy | seungjin

Epilogue

a/n: thanks for 5k besties <3

5 years later

Hyunjin's keys jangle in the lock as he fumbles to haul open the door to his room. The sight of a single bed against the back wall framed by a window looking over a wide street of New York welcomes him back like an old, resentful friend. The room is smaller than he thought—though it's to be expected from having a single room, opposed to being forced to share with a stranger he probably wouldn't get along with. A desk is shoved to double as a bed-side table besides the window and there's a wardrobe on the opposite side of the bed. Those three things take up most of the floorspace, but there's still a comfortable amount to walk around.

Hooking his skateboard against the desk, Hyunjin glances at the well-worn and loved deck and feels his breath falter for a moment, suddenly plagued by a wave of nostalgia at being back in this city, where so many things happened. But it's also met with the deep, drowning sense of guilt that lurks behind him whenever he's reminded of one particular boy: the boy he hurt beyond measure yet strived to forgive him anyway; the boy who, after getting on that plane, texted him to say they'd landed safely and never texted him again.

The amount of times Hyunjin's finger has hovered over Seungmin's contact would make anyone scream—and Hyunjin has proof because Jisung did exactly that once, after Hyunjin spent a whole hour ranting about why he should or shouldn't message him. But even so, he could never bring himself to do it, his mind convincing him that Seungmin obviously didn't forgive him and only put an act on to make Hyunjin feel better, because Seungmin was selfless like that.

And Hyunjin would tell himself he can only contact Seungmin again when he's someone they can both be proud of. And that hasn't happened yet. But maybe... now he's back in New York... it could?

But he shakes himself off, muttering to himself as he tugs his suitcase through from the hallway and finally flops onto the bed.

He lets out a long, relieved sigh. It's like he hasn't breathed in at least two years, with his self-induced pressure weighing on his shoulders throughout hours of work and sleepless nights finally lifted, and he no longer feels suffocated anymore. He'd finished high school—albeit a little late—and thankfully scraped the grades he needed to move on, and now he's lying on his bed in his dorm room at New York University. A smile works it's way onto his face.

After all that, everything seems to have worked out in the end.

Then he remembers the promise he'd been forced to make before getting on the plane, and hops off his bed as he quickly dials a number on his phone.

"Hey Hyunjin! Are you in your room? Let me see, let me see!" Jisung's loud voice comes through the speaker before Hyunjin can get a single word in edgeways, as he busies himself pulling psychology textbooks from the front of his suitcase and placing them into the shelves below the desk.

He chuckles. "It's not that special, just empty and cold." Even so, he picks up his phone and directs the camera to do a brief scan of his room, walking closer to the window to show his brother the view outside it.

"Woah," Jisung sighs. "New York looks so cool."

"You'll have to come visit."

He hums, "Was already planning it. But I don't know when Minho can get time off from work, his agent has him working to really harsh deadlines."

Sitting back down by his bag, Hyunjin shrugs. "Not saying I'm desperate for him to come too, but there is wifi here. He can lounge about and pretend to work while we go do stuff."