By Choice

Gyuvin and Ricky’s living room glowed warm—lamps, and the familiar scent of pine from candles Ricky insisted on lighting even though it was only September. Mark sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the sofa where his dad Jaehyun had an arm draped over the cushion. Doyoung was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. Gyuvin paced near the window, checking his phone every few seconds.

“She’ll be home soon,” Ricky said from the chaise, not looking up from the book he was pretending to read. “You’ve checked the time fourteen times in the last ten minutes.”

“I’m not checking the time,” Gyuvin said, then immediately looked at his phone again.

Mark laughed, and Jaehyun smiled at the sound. “She’s just at a late class, Gyuvin-hyung. Manana’s fine.”

“I know, I know.” Gyuvin finally sat down, but his knee bounced. “It’s just—she’s my little girl. Always has been.”

Ricky closed his book with a soft thud. “She’s twenty-five.”

“And she’ll always be my little girl.”

Mark watched them, fond. He’d grown up in this house almost as much as his own. His parents—Jaehyun and Doyoung—had always been close with Gyuvin and Ricky, so he and Manana had been inseparable since they were kids. Playdates, study sessions, late-night talks. Somewhere along the way it turned into something deeper. Something Mark was finally ready to act on.

He cleared his throat. When the room quieted, he said, “Actually, I was hoping all of you could tell me something.”

Doyoung turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “What is it, baby?”

“I want to know how you all became… this.” Mark gestured vaguely at the room—at the two couples who had raised him and Manana together. “How you met, how you fell in love. The whole story.”

Gyuvin blinked. “Really? Right now?”

“I’ve only ever heard bits and pieces. But I want to understand it. Because…” Mark hesitated. The conviction was warm in his chest. “Because I want to propose to Manana. And I want to do it right. I want to honor what you all built.”

The room went still. Jaehyun’s hand tightened on the sofa. Doyoung’s face melted into something soft and proud. Ricky set his book aside completely. Gyuvin’s eyes went glassy.

“Oh, Mark,” Gyuvin whispered, then fanned his face. “I’m not crying. I’m not.”

“You’re literally tearing up,” Ricky said.

“It’s allergies.”

Jaehyun let out a low laugh and ruffed up Mark’s hair. “You really want to know?”

“I really want to know.”

Doyoung took the pot off the stove and came to sit beside Jaehyun, lacing their fingers together. He looked at his husband, then at Gyuvin and Ricky. A silent thing passed between them—a conversation born from years of friendship and love.

“It started in high school,” Doyoung said. “Our second year. We were all seventeen.”

---

The high school hallway smelled like floor wax and teenage angst, and Kim Doyoung was trying not to drop his stack of books. Failing. A physics textbook slid sideways, then another. He was about to let them crash when a hand shot out and caught the pile.

“Whoa, careful.” Low voice, warm. Doyoung looked up and found himself staring at Jeong Jaehyun—tall, popular, impossibly handsome—who had just saved his academic career.

“Thanks,” Doyoung managed.

Jaehyun smiled. “No problem. You’re in my chemistry class, right? You sit in the front.”

“I… yes. I’m Doyoung.”

“I know.” Jaehyun shifted the books into one arm and held out his other hand. “Jaehyun. Want me to help you carry these?”

That was how it started. A chance encounter. A simple kindness that unraveled into something neither of them expected.

They became friends fast—Doyoung’s sharp wit and Jaehyun’s easy charm clicked. Through Jaehyun, Doyoung met Gyuvin, who was loud and emotional and latched onto Doyoung’s side within a week, and Ricky, quiet and observant, always watching Gyuvin with a soft, knowing smile.

The four of them were inseparable. They studied in the library, ate lunch under the big gingko tree, spent weekends at each other’s houses. Doyoung cooked; Jaehyun cleaned up. Gyuvin made them laugh until they couldn’t breathe, and Ricky always had a steadying hand on Gyuvin’s shoulder when he got too worked up.

It was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

The first crack came in late spring. A transfer student named Soomin showed up—pretty, confident—and she immediately took an interest in Jaehyun. Sat next to him in class, laughed at his jokes, touched his arm. And Doyoung, who had been carefully ignoring the feelings blooming in his chest for months, felt something ugly twist in his stomach.

He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. What right did he have? So Jaehyun was his best friend—that was all. So his heart raced every time Jaehyun smiled at him—that was a problem Doyoung would deal with alone.

But Gyuvin noticed. Gyuvin always noticed when someone he loved was hurting.

“You’re being weird around Jaehyun,” Gyuvin said one day, cornering Doyoung in an empty classroom after school.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’ve been quiet all week. You flinched when Soomin sat next to him at lunch.”

Doyoung’s jaw tightened. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Gyuvin’s voice went softer. “Do you like him?”

The question hung in the air. Doyoung wanted to deny it, but the words got stuck. Instead he just looked at Gyuvin, and Gyuvin’s face crumpled with understanding.

“Oh, Doyoung.”

“Don’t tell him. Please. I need time to—I don’t even know what I’m feeling.”

Gyuvin nodded, but Doyoung could see the gears turning in his head. Gyuvin meant well, but he was impulsive, and that was a dangerous combination.

Meanwhile, Ricky had his own problems. He had been watching Gyuvin for years. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about things he loved. The way his hands moved when he was passionate. The way he threw his head back when he laughed. Ricky was falling, and falling hard.

But Gyuvin was oblivious. Too busy worrying about Doyoung and Jaehyun to notice that Ricky was always there, always steady, always looking at him like he was the sun.

The breaking point came during exam week. Soomin asked Jaehyun to study with her at the library, just the two of them, and Jaehyun—clueless—agreed. Doyoung found out from a mutual friend and felt something inside him shatter. He buried himself in his books, didn’t answer Jaehyun’s texts, and when Jaehyun showed up at his house that night, confused and worried, Doyoung snapped.

“Why do you care? You have your new study partner. Go study with her.”

“Doyoung, what are you talking about? Soomin is just a friend—”

“Great. Go be friends with her. Leave me alone.”

He slammed the door. And Jaehyun, hurt and bewildered, didn’t come back.

Gyuvin tried to mediate, but he was tangled up in his own drama. He had finally realized Ricky was pulling away, and when he confronted him, Ricky told him the truth.

“I like you, Gyuvin. I’ve liked you for a long time. But you’re too busy taking care of everyone else to even see me.”

Gyuvin stared at him, mouth open. “You—what?”

“Forget it.” Ricky shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

It did matter. But by the time Gyuvin figured out how to respond, Ricky had already turned and walked away.

The four of them fell apart like a poorly built tower. High school ended, and they went their separate ways. Jaehyun and Gyuvin stayed in touch, just a thread. Doyoung and Ricky got close, bonding over shared heartbreak and late-night calls. But the four of them together? Gone.

They didn’t see each other again until they were twenty-two.

---

The work event was a fundraiser for a mutual friend’s charity. Doyoung almost didn’t go. He was busy, tired, still nursing the old ache. But Ricky called that morning and said, “I’ll be there. And apparently Gyuvin and Jaehyun will be there too. I think it’s time.”

So Doyoung put on his best suit, styled his hair carefully, and walked into the venue with his heart pounding.

He saw Jaehyun first. Across the room, talking to a group. He looked good. Hair shorter, shoulders broader, a quiet confidence he hadn’t had at seventeen. Doyoung’s breath caught.

Then Jaehyun turned and saw him, and the world stopped.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Jaehyun excused himself and walked over.

“Doyoung.”

“Jaehyun.”

Awkward silence. Then Jaehyun let out a shaky laugh. “You look… you look good.”

“You too.”

Another pause. Then Doyoung said, “I’m sorry. For how I ended things. I was young and stupid and scared, and I took it out on you.”

Jaehyun’s expression softened. “I know. Gyuvin told me everything. A few years too late, but he did.” He stepped closer. “I would have waited, Doyoung. If I had known. I would have waited forever.”

Something cracked open in Doyoung’s chest. “I liked you. I liked you so much, and I didn’t know how to say it.”

“Do you still?” Jaehyun’s voice was barely a whisper.

Doyoung looked at him—at the man who had been his best friend, his first love, his greatest regret—and nodded.

“Yes.”

Jaehyun smiled. The same smile from that hallway five years ago. “Good. Because I never stopped.”

Across the room, a similar scene unfolded. Gyuvin found Ricky near the bar, looking elegant and untouchable. Gyuvin, ever emotional, started crying immediately.

“I’m sorry,” he blubbered. “I’m sorry I was blind and stupid and I didn’t see you. I see you now, Ricky. I see you, and I love you, and I’ve loved you since we were seventeen, I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Ricky’s composure cracked. “You’re a mess, Gyuvin.”

“I know. But I’m your mess. If you’ll have me.”

Ricky took a breath, then pulled Gyuvin into his arms. “You’re impossible.”

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a yes.”

---

Back in the present, Doyoung’s eyes were misty, and Jaehyun was holding his hand tight. Gyuvin was openly crying now, and Ricky was patting his back with a fond, exasperated smile.

“And the rest is history,” Jaehyun said. “We got married a year later. Gyuvin and Ricky beat us by two months.”

“We had to,” Ricky said dryly. “Gyuvin was planning a proposal every week. I told him he had one shot, so he made it count.”

“It was romantic,” Gyuvin sniffled. “You cried.”

“I did not.”

“You sobbed.”

Mark laughed, wiping his own eyes. “Thank you. That was… more than I expected.”

“That’s the short version,” Doyoung said gently. “The long one would take all night.”

The front door clicked open. Manana walked in, dropped her bag by the entrance with a weary sigh. “I’m home. Sorry, the professor went twenty minutes over, my group project partners are useless, and I think I’m going to fail my final.”

She looked up and saw everyone’s red-rimmed eyes. “What happened? Did someone die?”

“No, baby,” Gyuvin said, rushing over to hug her. “We were just telling Mark our love story.”

Manana looked at Mark, her expression softening. “Oh. That story.”

“You know it?” Mark asked.

“Bits and pieces.” She smiled, and it was the smile Mark had loved since they were kids. “I’d like to hear the full version someday.”

“Someday,” Mark promised.

Doyoung got up to finish cooking, and Jaehyun followed him into the kitchen. Gyuvin fussed over Manana, made her sit down. Ricky poured her a glass of water.

“You look exhausted,” Ricky said.

“I am exhausted. Finals are killing me.” Manana leaned her head back against the sofa. “But this is nice. Coming home to all of you.”

Gyuvin got emotional again. “You’re my little girl. You’ll always be my little girl.”

“Appa, I know. You tell me every day.”

Mark watched them, heart full. He caught Manana’s eye and gave her a small smile. She smiled back, and it felt like a promise.

Later, after dinner, Doyoung insisted on helping Manana with her hair. “It’s dry from all the stress,” he said, producing a bottle of oil from his bag. “Jaehyun’s better at this than me. He’s got gentle hands.”

Jaehyun took the oil with a soft smile. “Come here, Manana-yah.”

She sat on the floor between his knees, and Jaehyun worked the oil into her hair with careful, practiced movements. A ritual he’d done for Doyoung countless times. Manana closed her eyes, relaxing into his touch.

“Thank you, Appa,” she murmured.

Jaehyun’s hands paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. “Always.”

In the kitchen, Doyoung washed dishes, Gyuvin dried them. Ricky wiped down the counters. Domestic. Ordinary. Perfect.

“She called him Appa,” Gyuvin said quietly.

“She’s been calling him that since she was ten,” Doyoung said. “She calls me Eomma.”

Gyuvin smiled. “I know. I love that she has you both. And Ricky and me. She’s so loved.”

“She is,” Doyoung agreed. “And Mark is too.”

Later that night, after Manana had gone to her room to work on her project, Mark pulled Doyoung and Jaehyun aside. They sat in the guest bedroom that had become Mark’s over the years, and Mark told them his plan.

“I want to propose at the next family dinner. Here. In front of everyone. I want them all there.”

Doyoung’s eyes welled up. “Mark, are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Jaehyun put a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “We’re proud of you, son.”

“Thank you. For everything you taught me about love.”

Across the hall, Gyuvin and Ricky were having a similar conversation with Manana. She was curled up on her bed, laptop open, but she closed it when her parents came in.

“Mark wants to propose,” Gyuvin blurted out.

Manana’s eyes went wide. “He told you?”

“He told all of us tonight. He asked us to tell our love story.” Gyuvin sat on the edge of her bed. “Mana, I know you two have been together awhile, but are you ready?”

Manana looked at her hands, then at her father. “I’ve been ready since we were eighteen, Appa. I love him. I’ve always loved him.”

Ricky sat next to Gyuvin. “Then you have our blessing. You know we adore Mark.”

“I know,” Manana said, voice thick. “Thank you.”

Gyuvin pulled her into a hug. “My little girl is getting married.”

“I’m not getting married yet. He hasn’t even proposed.”

“But he will,” Gyuvin said. “And I’m already emotional.”

Ricky sighed. “It’s going to be a long week.”

---

The next family dinner was a week later. Gyuvin had cooked too much food, as usual—the table overflowed. Doyoung brought his famous japchae, Jaehyun brought wine. Ricky arranged flowers because he said it needed to look nice.

Mark was nervous. His hand kept going to the ring box in his pocket. Manana kept looking at him with knowing eyes. She knew. Of course she knew.

After dinner, when everyone settled in with dessert, Mark stood up. The room went quiet.

“I have something I want to say.” He took a breath. “I’ve been thinking a lot about love lately. About what it means. About how it grows.”

He looked at his parents. “My fathers taught me that love is patient. It’s showing up every day, even when it’s hard. It’s cooking for someone and letting them put oil in your hair. It’s choosing each other over and over.”

He looked at Gyuvin and Ricky. “And Manana’s parents taught me that love is worth fighting for. Even when you drift apart, if it’s real, you’ll find your way back. And you’ll be stronger for it.”

Then he looked at Manana. She was already crying.

“Manana, I’ve loved you since we were five years old and you stole my juice box at snack time. I’ve loved you through every fight, every laugh, every late-night study session, every stupid argument about whose turn it was to pick the movie. I want to love you for the rest of my life.”

He dropped to one knee. The room held its breath. Gyuvin was already sobbing. Ricky had an arm around him.

“I want to build a future with you. I want to be your home, the way our parents are homes for each other. I want to honor everything they built by building something just as beautiful with you.”

He pulled out the ring. “Kim Manana, will you marry me?”

Manana covered her mouth with both hands, tears streaming. “Yes,” she said, voice breaking. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Mark slid the ring onto her finger, and she threw herself into his arms. The room exploded in cheers. Gyuvin was full-on crying, and Ricky was crying too, though he’d deny it later. Doyoung hugged Jaehyun, hiding his tears in his shoulder.

“My sons,” Doyoung whispered. “Both of them.”

Jaehyun kissed his forehead. “We did good.”

The celebration lasted late into the night. They looked through old photo albums—baby pictures, first day of kindergarten, joint birthday parties. They laughed about the time a boy in high school had a crush on Manana and Mark got so jealous they had a huge fight in the hallway. Both sets of parents had to step in, sit them down separately to talk about feelings.

“You were so protective,” Doyoung said, poking Mark.

“And you were so stubborn,” Ricky said to Manana.

“You were both insufferable,” Gyuvin added, but he was smiling.

Manana leaned against Mark, her engagement ring glinting under the light. “Look at us now.”

“Look at us now,” Mark echoed.

Sometime past midnight, when the older generation finally started winding down, Mark and Manana sat on the porch, looking up at the stars.

“I want a simple wedding,” Manana said. “Just our families. Maybe a small garden ceremony.”

“That sounds perfect.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Do you think we’ll be like them? Our parents, I mean. Still in love after all these years?”

Mark kissed her hair. “I know we will. Because love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a choice. And I’ll choose you every day.”

Inside, Gyuvin was crying again. Ricky handed him a tissue.

“You’re going to dehydrate yourself at this rate.”

“I can’t help it. Our baby is engaged.”

“Our baby is happy. That’s all that matters.”

Doyoung and Jaehyun were curled up on the sofa, exhaustion and joy mingling. Jaehyun’s hand found Doyoung’s, and they held on.

“We did good,” Jaehyun said again.

“We did,” Doyoung agreed. “And they’ll do even better.”

The night settled around them like a warm blanket. Two generations of love, tangled together, woven into a story still being written. And as the stars wheeled overhead, the house glowed with the light of a family built not by blood, but by choice—and would last forever.