Junho’s energy is... too much.

Luca is at loss at how he can possibly keep up, doesn’t even bother with replying and yet can’t find himself able to focus in class like usual. His attention remains on his phone even when it isn’t in his hand, his gaze unfocused and disengaged from the teacher at the front of the room.

Junho’s texts are relentless, seemingly apathetic to receiving a response as he chatters away about benign inane topics that normally would have bored Luca to tears. And should have bored him to tears—it’s rather disconcerting, actually. 

He doesn’t care about anything he’s saying, and yet...

Things like the weather, fictional characters Luca doesn’t even know about, his outfit of the day—in which he sends an exceedingly stupid amount of pictures of himself and his wardrobe—well, it doesn’t stop his mind from turning over the new information like he’s studying for a test.

It’s fucking ridiculous.

Normally, if he hadn’t blocked him already, Luca would turn his phone off to avoid this sort of unnecessary onslaught. That’s normally. It’s entirely different when things come to Junho, for whatever indiscernible reason that is.

Luca’s wary of thinking too much into the whys. Something about it makes his nerves even worse, makes his heartbeat hasten, and makes his stomach protest.

Regardless, it’s bizarre, feeling like he’s hanging off of Junho’s every word. Even with all the cringe-inducingly aggressive emotes, Luca’s interest isn’t waning.

Maybe... Maybe it’s because Junho seems comfortable making conversation on his own, completely unassisted by Luca. After a while of getting his sporadic texts, the pressure sort of just... eases.

Sure, his apprehension remains, as well as the general confusion that Luca doesn’t have answers for and doesn’t quite know how to go about asking. They’re simple questions though: what made Junho text him, why is he acting so chummy and annoying despite them only meeting twice, and—for the love of god—how the fuck does he have so much energy?

They’ve only been texting for three hours—using the word ‘they’ very loosely—and already Junho has managed to take Luca on a tour of his entire house, a trip down to the convenience store to pick up snacks, and has revealed various tidbits about himself that Luca, quite frankly, is shocked anyone would speak openly about without prompt.

[ i should really call my mom (｡•́︿•̀｡) ]

[ it's been a while tbh but i keep putting it off ]

[ cause like, we’re not really close and i never know how to talk to her ]

[ it’s so awkward with her and even worse because i’m using broken korean and she’s using broken english and its just, we’re a mess on the phone ]

[ i can only handle so many convos about the weather and my college options ]

[ she wants me to go to korea to spend time with her,,,,,, ]

[ thinking about it makes me nervous tho ]

[ my sisters intimidate me, my grandparents there think im weird as hell ]

[ which like, they arent wrong lmfao u’ve met me ]

[ but aughhh i wouldn’t fit in there, i dont think ]

[ for obvious reasons lmfao (and not just cause im weird but because im gay and can only get off on another dude’s pleasure) ]

It’s ten minutes later that Junho hastily adds:

[ AJKHJSHJSDH SORRY IGNORE THAT LAST PART. also i didn’t mean to just spill my lifestory to u over text im so sorry im currently a mess ]

[ ciana made fun of me for being too open with other people,,,,, ]

[ it’s a problem tbh ]

[ its not that im super self-obsessed and all i care about is talking about myself like some people think ]

[ but really im just awkward and dont know how to lead a conversation without sticking to what i know, which is stuff in my own life, ykno??? ᵟຶᴖ ᵟຶ ]

It’s in reading this that Luca realizes he hasn’t really minded Junho oversharing, and that in itself is the surprise. He almost... likes it, even. It’s... It’s nice, someone being so open with him. Certainly no one else has ever discussed their familial relationships with him, especially not over text, and oddly, Luca finds he feels some strange sense of empathy for Junho.

Luca can’t remember clearly what his relationship with his mother had been like, but... he does have experience with an estranged relationship with a woman who was sort of like a mom. Despite sickening him, he knows she’s probably the closest thing he can associate with motherhood in his memories...

But Rico’s mother doesn’t deserve the fucking title.

Luca finds himself texting back on his way home from school, replying for the first time since lunch.

[ I don’t mind it. ]

[ REALLY??? thought u’d be annoyed (*꒦ິㅿ꒦ີ) ]

[ i kind of like annoying you tho so i wasnt worried hehe :) :) ]

Luca smirks.

[ I barely even register your existence. How can you possibly annoy me? ]

[ WOW!!!! ]

[ WOW!!!!! ]

[ WOW. ]

[ the Mouth on you, young man ]

[ im shocked and appalled ]

[ and i have ur father on speed dial ]

Luca snorts.

[ Do you really? ]

[ yes, actually. sometimes i text him motivating messages about work ]

[ and he likes to send me funny animal videos ]

It doesn’t fail to amaze him how seamlessly Junho fits into his family’s lives—all without Luca having realized, for fucking years, even.

Disgruntled, Luca asks, [ Does he know? ]

[ kno what ]

[ That you’re, you know... ]

[ gay?? yea, i told him when i was like fifteen and like, he was awkward about it for a long while ]

[ but at the same time he was glad because he was worried i’d stolen ciana away from him and that he’d have to give her The Talk lmfao ]

[ sometimes he sends me unsolicited religious talk but like i get enough of that from my own dad so ┐(´-｀)┌ ]

[ he’s just worrying about me in his own way cause he’s like my second dad lol i know it still comes from a good place with him ]

[ is that weird? i’m the long-lost brother u never knew u had ]

A lot of this is weird. It’s a concept Luca still struggles with—his sister having this entire life outside of his recollection is weird.

Maybe it’s because he always mentally compartmentalized her life as being in the hospital when she was away from home, a place he loathes going to and finds every excuse in the book not to go. It was like she lived some sort of painful existence in his head, one he doesn’t like to touch or give too much attention to.

But... she...

She’d been alive with Junho, and that information sits in Luca’s mind with the texture of a fairytale, a fantasy disconnected from the real world. It’s set aside as an amorphous shape in the back of his head, something he doesn’t even know where to begin in unraveling, his comprehension of it vague and his feelings complicated. 

Of course, he understands logically her relationship with Junho, but... it just hasn’t sunk in yet.

None of it has sunk in yet.

A part of him is truly terrified of that, because how much further can he go?

[ Junho, what made you talk to me? ]

Luca blinks at the message he typed and sent without thinking, without really even seeing the phone screen, so lost in thought.

There’re the nerves again, as bad as ever, like ants crawling in his stomach.

Junho’s response is slow—too slow. Luca grits his teeth.

[ Are you trying to replace her with me? ]

Luca feels his jaw clench tighter, anger surging at the thought that this is what Junho might have been doing all along. It would explain so much, wouldn’t it? Him trying to be friends despite Luca’s general standoffish behavior. Him letting him touch him so casually. Him being so fucking patient.

Fuck, he should have realized this sooner—why did he let himself be so distracted?

[ If you’re doing that, kindly fuck off. ]

[ Well, not kindly, just fuck off, period. ]

Junho is stalled, typing but saying nothing. Luca tries to wait, patiently, but a couple minutes later is all he can stomach as the rage in him threatens to choke him.

Guess I’m not wrong, Luca is typing when Junho’s response finally comes through and when it does, Luca’s fingers pause above the screen, shaking. 

His anger leaves as suddenly as it came. His jaw slackens, the tension in his shoulders release and he feels his feet stutter over a divet in the sidewalk.

And suddenly his screen is filling with texts, rapid-fire to the point of stunning him even further.

[ i’m lonely luca that’s fucking why ]

[ god, i miss her, yeah but???? she’s not replaceable??? ]

[ actually, if u havnt noticed, you guys are nothing alike ]

[ like, ciana and you??? the similarities stop at your faces, be real ]

[ and the role she had in my life, the hole she left, it isn’t a spot to fill like some fucking rando could stroll in with some job application ]

[ why’d u have to piss me off with this bullshit i was having a good day ]

[ god ]

[ you have no idea luca! none! what she meant to me?? ]

[ i feel like half of my soul is dead with her gone ]

[ im sick to my stomach everyday. its hard to wake up and not feel like the world is ending. ]

[ i cant fucking drive anymore without edging on a panic attack ]

[ i’ve gained like ten pounds from stress eating and none of it in the places i fcking want ]

[ and okay, fine, ive not been perfectly open with you about my intentions, like, i get it, why you’re asking but like, dude, that’s fucking cold. ]

[ but okay, you want the truth? i’ve been using you as a distraction, but i figured, well, we both need one, right? ]

[ it’s easier thinking about you and pizza than realizing, for the millionth fucking time, that i will never ever ever be able to talk to my best friend again. ]

And then Junho is calling him.

Luca doesn’t register it at first, thoughts twisting and turning and the guilt of what he’s just accused Junho of hitting him square in the stomach. He wants to apologize but can’t find the words. He wants to answer the phone but can’t move a muscle. For a full minute, he does nothing, inwardly panicking but outwardly still.

The call ends, but Junho is persistent.

This time, Luca gives a weak tap at the screen to answer and mechanically holds it up to his ear.

He expects rage and wrath. He fully expects Junho to tear into him.

Instead, in a warbling voice, soft and textured, he hears, “Hey, can we go back to talking about japchae and how many plushies I have in my closet?”

Luca’s sense of shame isn’t above barking out a surprised laugh. “You’re giving me whiplash here, making jokes at a time like this,” he mutters, sobering quickly after.

Junho sniffles. “Sorry, I give it to me too. I sent all of those messages and then it was like, a wave of regret hit me and I realized I didn’t want to say any of that. At least not in that way, cause, like, I get where you’re coming from, I do. I’m just kind of sensitive these days and I feel like I flew off the handle with you and there’s only so much that can get across text. So I called you because I panicked, and then you wouldn’t pick up—”

“I,” Luca cuts in, and feels his face redden. “I...”

“You?”

“I’m... s...”

“What?”

“I’m sor...”

“Sorry?”

Luca coughs roughly. “Yeah, that.”

Junho actually laughs, a kind of happy giggle that takes him completely off guard.

“For what?”

Luca clears his throat. “For...”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that hard, is it?”

He grunts. “No, it really is.”

“Then... just say it rudely. I’ll understand. What are you apologizing for?”

“I was wrong,” Luca mutters through gritted teeth. “I shouldn’t have insinuated what I did and I’m fucking sorry, there. Happy now?”

Junho sighs. “I don’t know... This whole thing pretty much ruined my day, ya know? It might take more than that.”

“Junho.”

“Hm?”

Luca sighs heavily, drearily. “What could you possibly want now?”

A moment passes in silence.

"Junh—"

“Tocutyourhair.”

What. “What?”

“Tocutyourhair,fucker.”

“Say that again, asswipe, but slower.”

“To. Cut. Your. Fucking. Hair. That slow enough for ya?”

“What the fuck.”

“You heard me.”

“I—the fuck? My hair? You? Cutting it?”

“Is that concept really so hard to understand?”

Luca scowls at that. “What’s wrong with my hair?

“Well, to be completely honest, it’s outdated as fuck and you’re like, some gorgeous model of a guy and it’s just personally frustrating to see you not reach your potential.”

“Do you even have any experience cutting hair?”

“I-I mean, I cut my own...”

Luca tries to pull back a mental image of Junho’s hair. He usually has it styled in some type of way, giving him no concept of how it looks without some type of gel. But, it’s true Junho seems to carry himself with an impeccable sense of style.

Fuck. No way is he letting himself be talked into this too. Cooking him japchae is enough.

“I’ll make you the japchae for free, if you promptly forget about your hairdresser aspirations.”

Junho releases a whine. An actual whine—like he’s a child.

“Luca...”

“No.”

“Please? I’ll make you look so nice.”

Luca strongly wishes that there’s a way to send a glare through the phone. “No.”

“Why are you even so against it? It’s just hair.”

“Why are you so insistent? It’s just hair,” he retorts coolly.

“Okay, I asked for that one. But still, tell me, why are you against it?”

“Because maybe I don’t trust your skill? That could definitely be why.”

“Mmm. Can I prove myself by cutting Rico’s hair?”

“I don’t even need a haircut,” Luca grumbles.

“Since when is this about what you need? I’m just trying to cheer up from the overwhelming blow you dealt to me on this horrid day.”

“You could have avoided all of this by never texting me in the first place.” Not to mention he could have never responded...

Junho snorts. “Okay, this back and forth is actually getting me hot and bothered. This alarms me immensely. I have to go, bye.”

And then he just hangs up. Just like that.

For a long time, Luca gawks at his phone, waiting expectantly for a text from him. Unable to believe he’s actually been left hanging like that.

He isn't wrong.

[ i’ll convince u yet, smartass ] Junho sends, and quickly follows it up with, [ also forget what i just said, i dont wanna make things weird D: ]

Luca presses his lips together firmly. It’s already weird. Everything is strange and unnatural these days and the strangest thing of all? Junho.

He's already made everything weird. 

Even Luca.