Moral of the Story || seongsang · 2ho

3. The last night

Yunho didn't know if his honorary nephew would be back down tonight. Honestly he was kicking himself for scaring away the boy for possibly ever.

Nevertheless, he got out the spam.

Soon the smells of strange "meat", kimchi, and rice filled the kitchen, drifting to Yeosang still in his towel on the guest bed.

He just laid there. Not crying, not moving. Hand on the mark he and Seonghwa shared. Simply drowning in the dislike he held for himself.

He should've left when Seonghwa did. He should've stopped drinking. He should've stayed with Wooyoung and San.

Why didn't I just go? Actually, why did I go in the first place? San would've been fine without me. . .

Seonghwa, my love. . . Can I still call you that?

Sighing, he stood and got dressed. Pulling on a dark blue skirt that brushed the tops of his feet and a hoodie. Leggings, too. It's October after all. Yeosang looked down at the pink which dusted his skirt's hem.

He could smell Yunho cooking and laughed quietly remembering his previous attempts. He'd tell Wooyoung later. He'd be proud.

Then he remembered he wasn't really talking to Wooyoung.

Opening the door, he heard a clatter and cursing from the kitchen. Sprinting in to see if medical aid was necessary, he saw Yunho running cold water over his hand, still mumbling.

"Yunho, you okay? I can get a bandaid?"

"Oh!" Yeosang internally flinched at how excited his uncle was to see him downstairs again. "No it's fine. I was prepared for something like this," he said, motioning toward the first aid laid out on his counter.

Yeosang set the table as Yunho dishes the rice. They both stared at the plates, wondering if the food was as edible as it looked.

"After you," Yeosang said cheekily.

Clearing his throat, Yunho dug in, gingerly lifted the fork to his mouth. . .and bit. He didn't die, he didn't even choke, actually, Yunho seemed rather pleased with himself that night. And he smiled.

A second later Yeosang was eating, too, and he actually complemented his uncle on the dish.

Yunho pulled out his phone, "I'm sending a picture to Wooyoung; smile so I can prove the food is good."

The younger laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, it's okay, just take a photo of your plate. It deserves the whole shot."

And Yunho didn't insist.

~~~

That night, Yeosang was back in his room in the same position as before. Hand on the mark that would never leave him.

Mind wandering to his parents, the mark on their forearms. To Wooyoung and San, who got a tattoo over the marks on their sides just last week.

Wandering to his uncle, the only one he knew who didn't have a pair. The mark on Yunho's neck. He knew from his parents that Yunho had a soulmate, at one point at least. He was in university with them, or was it a her?

But has Yunho ever talked about his other half?

Maybe I'm making that up, not everyone is lucky enough to meet their other soul. It's simply a matching birthmark. No magical gravitation toward the other. No powers to find the other, only luck. Or if you believe, faith. And an eye out for strange skin.

Inevitably, his thoughts drifted back to his own Soul, to the last night they saw each other. Had it been two weeks already?

He had met his soulmate, and screwed it up. His stumach clenched for the umpteenth time and he wanted to vomit, but never did.

Instead he cried, biting his hand to keep silent. But when a loud and pained gasp left his mouth, Yeosang could hear Yunho rushing to the room.

Yunho found Yeosang curled on the floor and bent down, rubbing his back and quietly saying it was okay.

It's okay, Yunho himself was trying not to cry, this whole situation bringing back too many memories from his youth. But Yeosang, he was there for Yeosang.

"Hey love, please tell me. . . Maybe I can help you."

But Yeosang just curled tighter around himself, refusing the help that was offered.

"Do you want me to leave you?"

When he was only met with constrained whimpers, he hauled the smaller boy onto his lap and held him.

Held him like when Yeosang was young, held him like he used to hold him, and waited.

He waited, holding the boy, like Byul would wait holding him. Until the sobbing stopped, then the crying, then the whimpers. Then eventually Yunho would move off her and mumble an apology that she would refuse.

He would remind her of her date with Mingi, and, in turn, she would remind him she would happily cancel if need be.

"Mingi loves you, too," she'd say, "I really think he'd want to be here for you." And one night, they actually did ask Mingi for help. And for the first of many times, Yunho fell asleep in Mingi's arms.

The sounds from his lap had subsided, and he looked down, brushing away Yeosang's damp hair.

He looks so much like Jongho. . .and that thought scared him endlessly. Enough to have him push Yeosang the way he wished he had pushed his own love.

"Yeosang-ah," gently he moves and softly he speaks, "Yeosang-ah, can we talk now?"

"Yeah," he nodded quietly and climbed out of Yunho's lap, mumbling a quick "sorry." Which, of course, Yunho declined.

"The-t," Yeosang scrunched his eyes shut rubbing the heel of his hands over them.

Looking down, he continued. "The--ugh--" Quiet, Yeosang, please be quiet. Just tell him. "The last night I saw Seonghwa, it was at San's birthday, he had a very belated party."

Breath.

"I- Seonghwa had to leave early, Eomma needed him. A-and I should've gone with! B-but I didn't. . . I stayed and kept drinking. I c-ch," breath, "I cheated on h-him."

And the waterfalls started again.

***

A/N: 1-7-21 I always say I live on fluff, which I do, but angst is also apparently necessary for survival 😭

1-9-21 goodness gracious idk what was going on in my head while this and the previous chapter. All my editing is going towards softening the angst

Also I found this photo today and sometimes, yeah, just hate my mind. *screams in seonjoong* ⬇️

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