Under the Oak Tree

The living room smelled like cinnamon and old books. Mark sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the couch, staring at his fathers like they held the answers to the universe.

“So,” he said, voice cracking a little, “I’m gonna ask Manana to marry me.”

Doyoung’s hands froze mid-air, a half-folded sweater dangling from his fingers. Jaehyun slowly lowered the book to his lap.

“You’re twenty-three,” Doyoung said—not accusing, just surprised.

“She’s the one.” Mark’s voice steadied. “I’ve known since we were eighteen. I just… I want to do it right. That’s why I need to know—how did you two know? How did you know you were meant to be?”

Jaehyun and Doyoung exchanged a look. That look held fifteen years of inside jokes and silent arguments and midnight confessions. Mark had seen it a thousand times, but now it felt heavier, like a door being unlocked.

Doyoung set the sweater aside and sat down beside his son, tucking his legs under him. Jaehyun closed his book, marking the page with a finger, and leaned forward.

“It wasn’t one moment,” Jaehyun said slowly. “More like a collection of them. Small things that added up until we couldn’t ignore it.”

“Like what?” Mark pressed.

Doyoung smiled, soft and nostalgic. “Like the fact that your father used to follow me around in high school like a lost puppy, but pretended he was just looking for Gyuvin.”

Jaehyun’s ears turned pink. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did. You’d show up at our lunch table ‘by accident’ every single day for three weeks.”

Mark laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing. “So you’ve known each other since high school?”

“Not exactly,” Jaehyun said. “We were friends. A group of four—me, your uncle Gyuvin, Doyoung, and Ricky. We were inseparable for a while. Then we weren’t.”

The word “weren’t” hung in the air like smoke. Mark had heard stories, fragments, but never the full picture. His fathers were notoriously private about their past, especially the messy parts.

“What happened?” he asked.

Doyoung sighed, reaching over to squeeze Jaehyun’s hand. “Miscommunication. Jealousy. Stupid teenage pride. We all drifted apart. Your father and Gyuvin stayed close, and Ricky and I stayed close, but the four of us… we stopped talking. For years.”

“Until we ran into each other at a corporate event,” Jaehyun added, a small smile playing on his lips. “I was twenty-two. Doyoung was wearing this ridiculous blue tie that didn’t match his suit at all.”

“It was teal, and it matched perfectly,” Doyoung protested.

“It was a crime against fashion, but it made me smile.”

Mark watched them—the easy banter, the way their fingers intertwined without looking. This was what he wanted. Not just a yes at the end of a proposal, but years of this. Comfort, warmth, someone who knew every version of you and stayed anyway.

“Tell me everything,” he said.

And so they did.

---

**Ten years earlier.**

High school was loud, chaotic, and full of unspoken rules nobody ever explained. Kim Gyuvin navigated it with the grace of a golden retriever in a china shop—bright, clumsy, somehow always ending up where he was needed.

During a fire drill, he first talked to Shen Quanrui. Ricky stood apart from the crowd, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Gyuvin tripped over a crack in the pavement and crashed into him, sending them both stumbling.

“I’m so sorry,” Gyuvin blurted, steadying Ricky by the shoulders. “Are you okay? Did I break you? Please don’t be broken.”

Ricky blinked, then laughed—a surprised, melodic sound. “You’re insane.”

“I’m Gyuvin.”

“I know. You’re the guy who yelled ‘free bird’ during the principal’s assembly.”

“That was a cry for help.”

And somehow, that was the beginning.

Ricky introduced him to his best friend, Doyoung—sharp, sarcastic, secretly the most caring person in the school. Doyoung kept Ricky grounded, made sure he ate lunch and did his homework. And Gyuvin brought his own best friend, Jaehyun.

Jaehyun was quiet, steady, the kind of calm that made people feel safe. He and Doyoung took one look at each other and didn’t know what to do with themselves. They orbited each other cautiously at first, then with increasing proximity, until the four of them became a unit.

Weekends at the mall, late nights studying at coffee shops, long afternoons at Gyuvin’s house—his mom made them snacks and pretended not to notice the way Jaehyun’s eyes lingered on Doyoung.

“You two are hopeless,” Ricky told them one evening, sprawled across Gyuvin’s bed while Gyuvin tried to do his math homework on the floor.

“Who’s hopeless?” Gyuvin asked, not looking up.

“Jaehyun and Doyoung. They’re dancing around each other like they’re in a period drama.”

Jaehyun, sitting at the desk, didn’t deny it. He just smiled and kept reading. Doyoung, curled up in an armchair, pretended he didn’t hear.

It was comfortable. Easy.

Until it wasn’t.

---

University changed things. Not all at once—slow, like a crack spreading through glass. Different schedules, different priorities. Jaehyun and Gyuvin ended up in the same engineering program, stayed close. Doyoung and Ricky were both in business, gravitated toward each other. The two pairs started seeing less of each other, and when they did meet up, there was a new tension.

It started with a project. Doyoung and Jaehyun were assigned to a cross-department competition, working together on a marketing pitch for a tech startup. They spent hours in the library, heads bent over laptops, laughing over bad coffee. Most time they’d spent alone together in months.

Gyuvin didn’t mind. Ricky did.

“You’re always with him,” Ricky said one night, sitting on Doyoung’s dorm bed, scrolling through his phone with an edge to his voice.

“It’s just for the competition,” Doyoung said, too tired to read the room. “It’ll be over in two weeks.”

“You didn’t tell me about the late study sessions.”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Ricky’s jaw tightened. “Fine.”

It wasn’t fine. Ricky pulled back, and Doyoung, hurt and confused, pulled back too. They tried to have dinner together, but the air was thick with unspoken things. Jaehyun kept glancing at Doyoung, Gyuvin kept trying to make jokes that fell flat, and by the end of the night, they’d stopped making plans altogether.

They graduated without a proper goodbye.

---

The corporate building was sleek, glass and steel, the kind of place that smelled like ambition and overpriced coffee. Jaehyun had just finished a presentation for his startup, standing by the window, nursing a drink he didn’t really want.

Then he saw him.

Doyoung was across the room, talking to a woman in a sharp blazer. He looked older, polished, his hair styled different. But his laugh was the same—the one that crinkled his eyes and made Jaehyun’s chest ache.

Their eyes met. Doyoung’s smile faltered.

For a long, terrible moment, neither moved. Then Doyoung excused himself and walked over.

“Jaehyun.”

“Doyoung.”

They stared at each other. The silence was awkward, heavy with four years of distance.

“You look good,” Jaehyun said finally. “The tie is still terrible, though.”

Doyoung laughed, surprised. “It’s teal.”

“It’s a war crime.”

Something cracked between them. They started talking—carefully at first, then easier. Doyoung was a product manager now. Jaehyun was developing apps. Neither mentioned Ricky or Gyuvin.

Until Gyuvin himself stumbled into them, almost spilling his drink on Doyoung’s shoes.

“Whoa—sorry—Jaehyun?! Doyoung?!” Gyuvin’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Behind him, Ricky appeared, looking equally stunned.

For a beat, the four of them stood in a circle, the past pulling at their sleeves. Then Ricky broke the silence.

“So,” he said, dry as ever. “We’re all here. Cool. No awkward reunions at all.”

Gyuvin snorted. Ricky’s lips twitched.

And just like that, the ice melted.

---

The hotel hallway was quiet, the distant hum of the event muffled by thick carpets. Jaehyun stepped out to get some air, and somehow Doyoung followed.

They stood facing each other, a few feet apart.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun said. “For the way things ended. For not trying harder.”

Doyoung shook his head. “It wasn’t just you. I was scared. I thought—” He stopped, swallowed. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I never stopped caring.”

The words hung in the air. Jaehyun took a step forward, then another. Doyoung didn’t move.

“I still have feelings for you,” Jaehyun said, low. “I’ve tried to let them go, but I can’t. Every time I see you, it’s like no time has passed.”

Doyoung’s eyes were bright, unreadable. “I feel the same.”

They kissed in the dim light of the hallway, soft and tentative, then deeper. It felt like coming home.

Meanwhile, on the rooftop, Gyuvin was having a crisis.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered, pacing in front of Ricky, who was leaning against a railing. “I can’t just pretend we’re friends after everything.”

“You’re not making sense,” Ricky said.

“I like you, okay? I’ve liked you since high school. And it’s terrifying because if you don’t feel the same, I’ll lose you again, and I can’t—I can’t do that—”

Ricky grabbed him by the collar and kissed him.

“Idiot,” he said against Gyuvin’s lips. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for years.”

---

Two weeks later, they had dinner. Jaehyun and Doyoung held hands under the table. Gyuvin and Ricky squabbled over the menu. And then, in a moment of pure chaos, Jaehyun cleared his throat.

“So. Doyoung and I are dating.”

Gyuvin choked on his water. “You—wait, what?!”

“And,” Ricky added, smirking, “Gyuvin and I are together too.”

Silence for exactly two seconds. Then Doyoung burst out laughing.

“We all just—at the same time?”

“Apparently,” Jaehyun said, smiling despite himself.

Gyuvin looked between them, his face cycling through shock, confusion, and finally, pure joy. “This is insane. This is the best thing that’s ever happened. We’re a double date. We’re a double date.”

“We’re a mess,” Ricky corrected, but he was smiling.

They talked for hours, catching up on lost years, apologizing for old wounds. By the end of the night, they had a standing dinner reservation—every Friday, no excuses.

---

Present day.

Mark found Gyuvin and Ricky in their kitchen, a disaster of flour and cookie dough covering the counter. Gyuvin wore an apron that said “Kiss the Cook” and Ricky tried to salvage a batch of burnt sugar.

“Mark!” Gyuvin dropped the whisk and engulfed him in a hug. “You’re marrying Manana! I’m so proud! I’m crying!”

“You’re not crying yet,” Ricky said dryly. “Give it a minute.”

“I love you too, Uncle Ricky,” Mark said, laughing.

They settled on the couch, and Mark told them about his conversation with his fathers. Gyuvin’s eyes went soft.

“They told you about high school, huh?”

“And about the corporate event.”

Ricky leaned back, a rare smile on his face. “That night changed everything. If we hadn’t all shown up, if Jaehyun hadn’t been brave enough to kiss your dad in that hallway…”

“We might still be dancing around each other,” Gyuvin finished. He reached for Ricky’s hand. “But we weren’t. We found our way back.”

Mark watched them—the way Ricky’s sharp edges softened around Gyuvin, the way Gyuvin’s chaos settled into something steady. He wanted that. He already had it with Manana.

“I’m gonna propose at the park,” he said. “The one with the big oak tree. You guys remember?”

“The one where we used to have picnics?” Ricky’s voice was quiet. “That’s perfect.”

---

The ring was simple—a thin gold band with a diamond that caught the light. Mark spent an hour choosing it, his heart pounding the whole time. Now he stood under the oak tree, leaves rustling above him, waiting.

Manana came walking across the grass, her bag slung over one shoulder, her hair messy from class. She stopped when she saw him.

“Mark? What are you—”

He dropped to one knee.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” he said, steady. “I thought about grand gestures, fancy restaurants, the perfect words. But then I realized—none of that matters. What matters is you. And me. And the life we’ve already started building.”

Manana’s hand flew to her mouth.

“I know we’re young. I know there’s a lot ahead of us. But I don’t want to face any of it without you. I love you, Manana. Will you marry me?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. “Yes. Yes, of course yes.”

He slid the ring onto her finger, and she pulled him up into a kiss. From a distance, four figures stood by the park entrance—Jaehyun with his arm around Doyoung, Gyuvin wiping his eyes, Ricky shaking his head with a smile.

“They’re gonna be okay,” Doyoung whispered.

Jaehyun kissed his temple. “They will be.”

And under the oak tree, Mark and Manana started their own story—one written with ink and love and the quiet knowledge that some things, like the heart’s first true connection, were worth every year of waiting.