spaces | c.h.w + l.m.h

十 ; epilouge

With Minhyuk by his side, Hyungwon finally felt at peace.

The storm that once raged in his chest—the hollow ache of longing, the sharp pang of regret—had stilled.
And in its place was Minhyuk's warmth.
Constant. Steady. Unwavering.

The spaces between them—the years of silence, the heartbreak, the miles that had once separated them—had closed, leaving nothing but love.
No more distance. No more running. Just the two of them.

They sat curled up on the couch, their legs tangled together beneath a worn-out blanket, half-watching a movie they'd seen a hundred times.
Minhyuk's head was resting against Hyungwon's chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling him into a dreamlike calm.

But Hyungwon barely watched the screen.

His eyes were focused on Minhyuk instead.
On the way his eyelashes fluttered faintly, the way his lips parted slightly whenever he sighed.
On the way he fit so perfectly against him, like he belonged there all along.

Hyungwon brushed his fingers through Minhyuk's hair, slowly, gently, as if savoring every strand.
The familiar burgundy locks, once a reminder of what he had lost, were now a symbol of what he had found again.

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to Minhyuk's forehead, breathing him in.
Vanilla and lavender.
The scent that had clung to his clothes long after Minhyuk was gone.
The scent he used to bury his face into when the world was too heavy.

And now, it was here again.
Real and warm and home.

They didn't need fancy words or grand gestures.

The soft, shared glances were enough.
The barefoot dances in the kitchen at midnight.
The way Minhyuk still made him coffee, just the way he liked it—even though he always forgot to finish it.

Happiness was no longer fleeting or foreign.
It was constant and quiet, folded into their everyday moments, woven into the spaces between their fingers.

Happiness was Minhyuk tracing the lines of Hyungwon's palms, absentmindedly, as they lay in bed.
"I think your lifeline got longer," he'd mumble sleepily.
And Hyungwon would smile, watching him drift off.

Because he knew the truth.
His lifeline had only stretched because Minhyuk was holding it.
Because Minhyuk was in it.

–––––

One afternoon, Hyungwon stood in front of the café, watching Minhyuk through the window.
He was wiping down the counter, humming softly under his breath, his lips curled into a familiar smile.
The same smile he fell in love with when they were kids.

And just like back then, Hyungwon's heart stumbled.
But this time, there was no bittersweet ache.
No fear of losing him again.

Because this time, there was no goodbye waiting at the end.

Hyungwon took a slow breath, then reached into his pocket, pulling out the locket Minhyuk had given him.
The tiny silver heart was slightly worn, but it still glimmered in the afternoon light, just as it had the night they first locked it onto the bridge.

And suddenly, he was eighteen again, trembling hands gripping Minhyuk's as they sealed their promise, thinking that forever was something guaranteed.

But now he knew better.
Forever was something you fought for.
Something you stayed for.

And as he watched Minhyuk glance up from the counter, their eyes meeting through the glass, Hyungwon smiled softly.
Because he knew—
They had found their forever.

That night, lying in bed, Minhyuk's head rested on Hyungwon's chest, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips.
And Hyungwon traced slow, lazy circles over his bare shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, Hyuk?"
"Mmh?" Minhyuk hummed sleepily.

"You know what's funny?"
"What?" Minhyuk murmured, eyes still closed.

Hyungwon smiled faintly, voice soft and steady.
"I used to think... you were the one who got away."

Minhyuk's eyes fluttered open, blinking sleepily.
"And?" he asked softly.

Hyungwon leaned down, brushing his lips against Minhyuk's temple, holding him just a little tighter.
"But you weren't."
His voice cracked slightly, heavy with emotion.
"You were the one who came back."

Minhyuk's breath hitched.
And he pressed himself closer, tucking himself into Hyungwon's arms, hiding his face against his neck.
Because he knew if he looked up, Hyungwon would see the tears brimming in his eyes.

–––––

And so this was Hyungwon's story.

The story of how he let the one he loved slip away.
How he had watched him walk out of his life, carrying his heart with him.

But it was also the story of how he got him back.
Of how he held on, despite the distance.
Of how he found his way back into Minhyuk's arms, even after the world had pulled them apart.

Because some promises—
Even the ones you think you've forgotten—
Are never really broken.