A simple touch sends Hyukjae to the brink, and he can’t help but ask the same questions over and over again, sometimes chanting and sometimes breathing it into the air to swift away, for it to never be found again, to vanish.

You can’t vanish it, they say, the feelings you’re holding in your heart, but if that’s the case, Hyukjae’s eager to throw his whole heart out to the bin.

And it’s not like he wants to feel this way, spread out on the edge, closer to the deepest depth of an abyss than he would ever think. He nearly feels the spikes of the cliffs, delving into his limbs and it’s making him immobile, vulnerable, between wind and water.

He wants to stand stabile without gashes and wounds on his skin, without deep cuts down to his bones. He wants to stay sane, but the effect turns out to be insane on him.

And there’s nothing to do when Donghae asks him why he’s drifting away. Just because, Hyukjae answers but it sounds false even to himself.

He wonders, how did he get here? What’s the reason, when there’s no proper understatement at all, and even though he knows he’s on the edge, why can’t he step back and turn around? Do I want to step back, he finds himself speaking through words he’s choking on then pushing them back, tasting the bitterness on his tongue and the heaviness on his lips, until he’s crazed again by that look of Donghae’s and it dawns down on him.

Donghae’s not much of a first love to him (not even the first, but the third or fourth), more like a nagging, annoying little brother to comfort on rainy days and cloudy nights. He’s immature and he can’t stop speaking bulls into anyone’s head, he’s loud, but most of all, he’s lost. And because he really is, Hyukjae wants to help him, he wants him to find his own way but Hyukjae doesn’t know how.

So he keeps the thoughts in his head silently and the syllables are quiet on his mouth when he whispers to Donghae at night. The sheets are cold against his skin but he feels heated up at the same time, with Donghae’s legs rolling into his, getting tangled up and locking around each other.

If he shifts away, buried in the darkness and coldness of the room, he’d lie. He’d lie he doesn’t want Donghae to snuggle up and he’d lie he’s sick of this game. If he stays, he’d lie again; about he loves Donghae when he doesn’t. Either way would hurt Donghae so he does nothing and tries to decipher his feelings and when he’s done, he wants to push them away.

He can’t, he’s gone too far for that to happen. He hides his smile though when Donghae says out loud, quietly, Hyukjae, and he denies the way how his heart quivers at that.

And because he feels insane, intoxicated in the state he’s in, he whispers back something none of them can make out but it’s alright until no one’s there to listen.

It goes on like this until Donghae confronts him about it, and Hyukjae asks, “What? What?”, and it seems as if he knows nothing but oh no, he knows so much well.

“Just because we have crazy schedules you shouldn’t avoid me,” Donghae says, voice raw as it flows out of his mouth. It’s sweet though, delicate even, but there’s a sparkling aftertaste to it, bitter.

Hyukjae thinks for a moment if he should show his cards and reveal everything; he really considers the opportunity but Jungsu barks in and tells him it’s time to go to Sukira, the last one that will be aired featuring them, and has no time to think about excuses or truths or whatever, really.

He watches Donghae getting into bed later that day. He kind of eschews himself from following him down to the 11^th floor, so he pours himself some milk and changes into his pajamas. He cries a few sad tears into his pillow.

And he thinks afterwards, they could never have a future together; they might be like magnets to each other, or the best of the best, or never recognized potential lovers, but their fate isn’t written on the same page, or in the same book even; however, he pretends he doesn’t know this and he imagines that someday, any day he won’t feel like he’s on the edge anymore.