they told us we couldn't, so we had to

[warmboys]

This is entirely for and inspired by Ashley, without whom this trio would have only briefly and abstractly crossed my mind. But this stint has turned into a fixation now, and... okay I think I am slightly more biased towards a certain leg of this triangle :D;
The beach scene was entirely her idea, and I have sadly not done justice to it.

For Good
Jonghyun/Seohyun/Yonghwa
very very light R
900 words

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Let’s rephrase that-no one expected or ever wanted this. Everyone thinks they deserve their own ending, be it happy or otherwise; no one prepares to share their happiness or otherwise with someone else. In this case it may well be happiness.

In January they learn to make use of the fireplace. “I think it’s broken.” Yonghwa cranes his head to look up the chute, and Jonghyun unwittingly follows. Seohyun is the one who figures it out; in their short stay there she has grown deft with her hands. The Internet connection is spotty, as though its invisible wires are obstructed by the neverending crowds of trees. Jonghyun rests his chin on her shoulder while she googles “fireplace maintenance.” He is still shy about touching her, just as Yonghwa still goes sullen when he sees them together, even making the bare minimum of physical contact-his knee accidentally meets hers during a movie, her hand clinging onto his t-shirt during the scary scenes-and just as Seohyun is undeniably true, and good, and beautiful.

Seohyun in the shower, Yonghwa is cutting onions when Jonghyun wipes his hands on the towel by the sink. “Do you hate me?” he asks. Yonghwa is startled; his knife makes a dull sound against the cutting board.

“No,” Yonghwa says with the surprise still in his voice. “Jonghyunnie, you’re scary when you’re serious.”

It’s then he knows they love her equally, that this arrangement isn’t a stalemate but an endgame.

Seohyun emerges freshly washed and pink. Her eyes are round, twinkling. “You’re still not done?”

“Sorry,” the boys say in unison. They look at each other, laugh, and are normal again.

March: “Let’s go kite-flying,” Seohyun says. Her hair is shorter than it’s ever been now, shoulder-length. The wilderness looks good on her, and she wears it as one might wear a fresh stick of lipstick. She strings her hair into a ponytail, and Yonghwa says, “It’s too cold,” just as Jonghyun says, “Okay.”

They go to the beach. The water is still cold when Seohyun finds herself picked up from behind and-she screams, ineffectually-carried as far as the waves will allow them, Jonghyun’s hands under her back, Yonghwa’s around her ankles, and suddenly dropped into it, like the reverse birth of a newborn. She inhales in a gulp of salt before bobbing up to their hiccups of laughter and using all the strength in both her hands to drag them down with her. Yonghwa’s laughing turns into melodramatic choking, and Jonghyun wishes they could be lost at sea forever.

Yonghwa dries her hair for her afterwards. His sleeves hang wet and low like curtains by her temples. Seohyun hugs the towel closer to her body and points at Jonghyun, sitting a rock away. “Aren’t you cold too?”

He shakes his head, and Seohyun notices he’s looking at Yonghwa. “I’m good,” he says.

Everyone is thankful when spring finally comes. It is before dawn one morning when Seohyun appears in Yonghwa’s doorway. She is in a long-sleeved t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. Her hair has gotten longer again. Yonghwa swallows the knot in his throat and makes room for her in the bed. “It’s warm,” she says, crawling into the space beside him. She’s warm, too, he thinks, when she lets him touch her, his hands roaming everywhere, doing the things he’s never dared until now.

She stops him just as he’s at his limit. “What about Jonghyun?” she asks quietly, her face flushed. “I-“ Yonghwa starts, images of Jonghyun flashing through his mind now, where he doesn’t want them. “I don’t know,” he says, closing his eyes to a vision of Jonghyun smiling, pale, and naked as they are right now. Then Jonghyun is looking at him and stroking himself, and Yonghwa comes.

Summer: Seohyun leans in to kiss Jonghyun, and Yonghwa watches, not darkly, not darkly at all. He doesn’t even know what he is anymore. Jonghyun pulls back and says, “I can’t do this.” He’s never lost his sensibilities, even after all this time. It’s why Yonghwa chose him. As his brother, as his bandmate. As his-

“We’re a family,” Yonghwa says, standing up from his place on the couch and walking over to Jonghyun. He stops and kneels in front of the younger man, who looks as uncomfortable as he’s ever been.

“This is too strange,” Jonghyun says.

“When was that ever a problem for you?” Yonghwa says gently. For us, he means, and Jonghyun hears. For a moment, Seohyun disappears. It’s just them, Yonghwa’s hand palming the back of his neck, and then the slow dry clash of lips and teeth. It’s like they’re both trying to prove something, something they didn’t realize they needed to until now. Then Yonghwa realizes Jonghyun’s smiling through the kiss, and when Jonghyun laughs, he can feel it too, like the vibration of a thin steel guitar string traveling through his diaphragm. “God,” Yonghwa says. “Will you stop that?” but he can’t stop laughing either.

“I can’t do this,” Jonghyun said, but he does, again, and again.

Fall comes in a haze of striped sweaters and soft cardigans. Seohyun knits a scarf long enough for all three of them, and they fall asleep on the couch that way one afternoon, the DVD still running on TV.