His feet dangle. He sways them back and forth, occasionally tracing the outline of a tree with his toes. His shoes are gone--laid aside neatly, each with a careful sock tucked inside.

Youngjae doesn’t have any intention to leap down to the concrete below him. But perhaps that isn’t completely true, he supposes. After all, there’s not much reason to be up on a rooftop at two in the morning. At least, not in the city with all its light pollution. It’s not a place known much for its star gazing.

 

Neon signs outshine the constellations of the sky. In a way, Youngjae envies the stars because he wishes to cease to exist with the ease they have. You could look up every night and never know they are there.

 

What comes after death, he doesn’t know. Maybe it's pure nothingness or even spiritual enlightenment--ending credits to a show no one ever watched. Either way, anything sounds better than his present situation.

His hands grasp the stony ledge, knuckles turning white. The fragments of rock dig into the soft skin of his palms. This feeling combined with the cold night breeze keeps him awake.

Thousands of unseen stars gaze upon him, at the moment. They witness this insignificant image of him, alone on his apartment’s roof. A boring figure in an out of place height.

They keep him company.

Cars and people pass by on the street, at most one an hour. They don't notice the boy up above. Which is good. Youngjae wouldn't have an explanation to give them, anyway. He doesn't even fully understand why he's there himself.

The wind tousles his hair, gently caressing and tugging. His body shakes but it isn't cold; it's a warm July night.  

Youngjae's life is average in every aspect. Maybe even a little less. He’s not much for main character material. He lacks that finess that accompanies them. That likability where you want to continue following the protagonist on some quest or journey of theirs.

 

He’s no Daehyun, that’s for sure.

 

So, he finds himself staring down into the neighborhood every month--some nights just for thinking and others not so much. No deep soundtrack follows his actions because there would be no one but him to hear it. High budget stuff like song copyrights can’t be wasted on secondary characters.

He redirects his gaze down to his hands which fiddle in his lap. He's in his pajamas still--evidence he did try to sleep tonight. But, here he is now. The fabric of his basketball shorts drape over his thighs. And there’s something just so pathetic about unintentionally ending up on a roof rather than planning to along. As if you belong up there alone, a conscious sleepwalk.

Nothing in particular occurs in his mind. It's as empty as the streets below. Beneath him sleeps his neighbors, dreaming and preparing for tomorrow. By the time they wake up, it'll be morning. As if no time has past. But for Youngjae, it's still the middle of the night and maybe it'll always be for him.

That's grim, he thinks to himself.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He holds it in as long as he can. His chest puffs out. His lungs are full. He lets it out slowly. Controlling his breathing helps him keep back the tears.

Youngjae finds this moment all too reminiscent.

 

 

He thinks back to the times he’s shared with Daehyun, like when he laid in his bed that night in April.

 

The room’s dark, bathing the two of them in a deep indigo.

 

That’s how he remembers it: blue.

 

Joy is a soft undertone, the subtle emotion that tickles the insides pink. Whereas, failure an all encompassing melancholy seeking acknowledgement. There exists an association of blue with sorrow, one which Youngjae understands. His worst memories tend to occur on nights where shouts and screams discolor the face purple--yelling faster than breathing. Skins glowing with hushed mauve blue.

 

He’s nestled against Daehyun’s neck, his face obscured in the crook. He’s holding his breath, afraid to take in air. Because all he needs is a single unsteady gasp to start his uncontrollable sobbing. Instead, his tears just run down the contours of his cheeks, quiet like the room. He's sure Daehyun can feel them wet his shoulder blade.

 

The soft cotton comforter, covering their bare torsos, caresses their skin.

 

Various scenarios and excuses play through Youngjae’s head, further exacerbating his emotions. If Daehyun asks him what’s wrong, then clearly he needs an explanation better than “I just don’t know.” His lips sync to his thoughts, delivering inaudible whispers. Daehyun never does ask, though, And Youngjae exhausts his body until the point of sleep.

 

Sleep which he still desperately needs rather than reminiscing up on a rooftop, weeks later. Go to bed. Sleep. Be normal. Forget. It’s that ing simple. Don’t force yourself to stay awake with artificially deep thoughts as if they matter.

 

He runs a hand through his hair. He’s going insane, is what he is. Secondary characters have no right to anything more than two-dimensional feelings. Complexity and layers belong to protagonists of stories--something Youngjae is not. He doesn’t exist for his own personal narrative, but one bigger than himself: Daehyun’s.

 

He is a side story. Filler. Character development. Plot device. Call it what you may: incentive and purpose, the driving force which pushes Daehyun into the arms of his real main love interest. Plot doesn’t progress with Youngjae. Get over yourself. Finish your story arc so the real characters can focus on something more important. Like a different love triangle.

 

The fabric of his shorts bunches up between the gaps of his fingers as he grips onto the thin material. His sigh is carried away by the wind. Who’s he kidding? He wishes desperately to be a protagonist.

 

Secondary characters don’t get many options, especially in romantic fiction. Even their introduction to a story is limited: (a) be the childhood friend or (b) meet the main character after the other protagonist already has. Youngjae fell into this latter category. Secondary character, secondary category, secondary life.

 

He meets Daehyun in the middle of a rainfall in spring. They’re seventeen in that moment. And some five odd years have past since then.  

 

Their meeting is coincidental, Youngjae recalls. Daehyun and Jieun had just gotten into some heated argument. Neither had it within themselves to admit their feelings to one another for the upteenth time, resulting in misunderstandings on both parts. But that isn’t nearly dramatic enough for an audience. They need some schmuck to come and pine and fill screen time.

 

Enter Youngjae from stage left.

 

He stands under an awning of a cafe. Something about grey clouds and dripping rain compels him outside, away from soft jazz and cafe au lait. The ensemble cast are busy delivering lines of dialogue and, overall, being important. There’s no need for another background characters like Youngjae in the no-name shop. So he takes this moment to breath in the weather. He’s almost drinking in the rain. The crisp white dress shirt of his school uniform dampens in the backsplash.

 

If Youngjae remembers correctly, Daehyun and Jieun should be walking each other home right now. A romantic stroll, an umbrella definitely shared between the two, he assumes. They’d be awkward hands and blushing faces, unable to process the idea they can stand so close together. Well, if not for that fight they would.

 

He reaches a hand out from beneath his dry cover, feeling the water trickle onto his hand. His bones chill. The droplets bead up on his skin before rolling down and hitting the pavement beneath him.

 

Tentatively, he steps a foot out. His umbrella’s in hand, ready, when he sees a teen racing out from the barrage. It’s a speck in the distance that grows larger until Youngjae can make out Daehyun’s features. Soaking wet and with his jacket over his head, he comes towards him.

 

Plummeting in under the awning, he almost knocks Youngjae over. Hearty laughter overwhelms the freeze. He shakes the water from his body like a dog after a bath, splashing Youngjae in the process. But a tilt of the head and a smile is all that’s needed to appease Youngjae of the distasteful shower.  

 

At this proximity, the rain enhances the scent of Daehyun’s shampoo so much so that Youngjae can pinpoint every subtle additive. It’s pungent. To Youngjae, their first meeting will always smell like sandalwood and fresh soil, with the coffeehouse playlist flitting out past the door.

 

Daehyun combs his fingers through his wet bangs, pushing them back from his face, “Some weather we’re having, right?”

 

Youngjae fiddles with the umbrella in his hands, “Yeah, it just came out of nowhere.”

 

They stay there, by the cafe’s entrance, watching clouds come in and recede on a grey Sunday afternoon. They talk back and forth for an hour. That’s Daehyun’s charm. He can talk to anyone and have them respond, feeling completely comfortable in his own skin.

 

But with Jieun, it’s different. He’s a flustered mess who can’t adequately say what he wants to such a pretty face. It’s endearing, it’s cute, it’s a flaw.

 

A flaw he doesn’t present to Youngjae.

 

These are the parts they play in the narrative. So, when Daehyun sees Jieun down the road, shivering and cold, he doesn’t hesitate to steal Youngjae’s umbrella. It’s instinct, ingrained in his personality. Youngjae’s left with a burn from his torn grasp. Daehyun doesn’t look back and races to Jieun.

 

He watches the way Daehyun scolds her for being outside in the rain and risking a cold. He holds her hand and gazes into her eyes. Youngjae can almost imagine the genuine concern that grips his voice.

 

Jieun yells something back at him, throwing his hand away. Tears of frustration brim in the corner of her eyes. She’s still upset at whatever Daehyun did earlier. Despite those sentiments, though, she still came out looking for him. Worried he’d do something stupid in this silly weather.

 

They sure know how to put on a show.

 

This will take a while. This is probably a chapter or episode that will end in a cliffhanger. One of them will say something stupid and further deepen the rut they’re stuck in, right when they’re on the verge of confession. Their disagreement will only be resolved in a future installment. You’ll have to tune in next time if you want to see how they get themselves out of the mess they’ve made this time.

 

This doesn’t involve Youngjae. He steps out from the awning and into the rain, letting it drench and drown him completely. He walks home without his umbrella, but not before taking one last look at Daehyun. He traces the curvatures of his features and the gentle slopes of his body. Youngjae sighs.

 

When they do resolve their problem, they’ll giggle and shyly send each other looks from beneath his umbrella. His existence has already created emotional fodder for the two to bond over.

 

His parents congratulate him when he comes home.

 

“Moving on up, son! Way to go, Mr. Supporting Character.” His dad pats him on the back for his promotion.

 

His mom bakes him a cake.

 

Daehyun returns to the cafe every day until he finds Youngjae. He gives the umbrella back to him and solemnly apologizes. He offers to buy him a coffee to make up for the theft. Youngjae obliges and listens to Daehyun gush about his crush and relationship with Jieun. And that day is basically a summary for the rest of his life.

 

In those five years, Youngjae becomes a part of Daehyun’s story. Youngjae’s that friend who the audience knows is hopelessly in love with him. Mostly they cheer for him, but the rest just wait for Youngjae to move on and give up.

 

Daehyun brings Youngjae out of his shell, drawing him out with his idiotic antics. He makes him laugh until he cries and his belly aches. (And sometimes he just makes him cry without knowing.)

 

When Daehyun’s hurt and too embarrassed to ask Jieun for help, Youngjae bandages him up. He slaps him on the back and mocks the coward. Like the time Daehyun took on odd jobs to save up enough money to buy her the necklace she really wanted for Christmas. Her eyes had sparkled when they walked past the display window.

 

Youngjae had worked with him, wearing stupid mascot costumes in too hot weather at the amusement park. The two nearly had a heat . But it was worth it to see Daehyun’s expression light up when he got the paycheck. Of course, Daehyun was so obsessed with buying that necklace, that he unintentionally neglected getting anyone else a present.

 

Daehyun stammered for nearly a full minute when he received a gift from Youngjae, trying to voice his apology. Youngjae smiled through it and playfully punched him as buddies tend to do. “Just accept the gift. Don’t make it more awkward than it has to be.”

 

He finally gets Daehyun to laugh, but when he opens the box he’s back to a stutter.

 

Youngjae closes his eyes and suppresses his sigh. He doesn’t need to hear Daehyun’s voice to know: Jieun got him the same gift already. “Return mine for store credit,” Youngjae jokes with an added shrug, hoping his strained voice doesn’t give him away.

 

Youngjae’s gift is disposable, like him.

 

 

His screen time with Daehyun is at a ratio of 1:4 compared to Jieun.

 

Afterall, they only spend time together when Jieun is too busy for Daehyun.

 

It’s wrong to harbor these feelings, Youngjae knows. And he doesn’t want to expect anything from Daehyun, to feel as if he owes him and should return his affection. This is an abuse of Daehyun’s friendship. But Youngjae can’t help himself. He wants to spend as much time with him as he can, any way possible.

 

He cherishes the memory of when Daehyun told him how important he was to him. They had decided to go camping together. Nevermind the fact that there are no nearby campsites in their city. So erupted the five hour car trip to find the closest place they could set up a tent and roast marshmallows together.

 

The ride was hell, but Youngjae laughs at the memory of it each time he thinks back. He drove and Daehyun refused to sit properly in the passenger seat. He kept putting his legs up over his lap.

 

“This is a violation of road safety!” Youngjae had screamed at him, pushing his feet off as they stopped at a red light.

 

Daehyun ignored his traffic warnings, instead stuffing chip after barbecue chip into his mouth like a shovel. And when he was done with the salty snacks, he moved onto the Skittles. He threw them at Youngjae, trying to aim them into his mouth each time he nagged. But only the green apple flavor because he hates them.

 

“They should have never replaced lime. Lime is justice.” Youngjae quotes.

 

Daehyun only stopped after Youngjae refused to pull over at any rest stops for an hour, effectively holding his bladder hostage. They couldn’t fuel up on any more snacks, either.

 

The fourth hour into the drive, Daehyun’s asleep. The snacks are piled on his lap and his mouth dyed various colors from all the candies devoured. Youngjae glances to him periodically. Daehyun laughed so hard he tired himself out.

 

Later, when they arrive to the site, they will both realize neither of them know how to pitch a tent (or camp, for that matter). They try to read the directions and guess how a tent should look until the sun sets.

 

Eventually, they give up and just sleep under the stars in their sleeping bags. They’re side by side, gazing up. Daehyun makes up constellations, and so does Youngjae. They talk in hushed whispers to each other, for whatever reason, as if it would make the moment more intimate. Beneath the weight of a thousand stars, they feel so small and insignificant.

 

They huddle up together and fall asleep.

 

The next day, they fail at fishing, hiking, cooking, and experience one minor bear scare and world record sprinting from a swarm of wasps.

 

The charred logs of the campfire smoke their marshmallows and toast their dark chocolate to an even finer and bitter consistency. Daehyun stuffs s'mores into his grahm cracker crumbed mouth and though muffled, he tells Youngjae, “There’s no one else I’d want to experience this but you.”

 

They tell each other stories they’ve already both heard that night, but there’s something just so enrapturing about relearning and reliving the moments together: “do you remember that time where…”

 

They sing songs, or at least try to over their wheezing laughter, “C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G song! And if you don’t think we can sing faster than you’re wrong. But it’ll help if you just sing along”

 

When Youngjae thinks back to that trip, he wants to rip his hair out, too. He doesn’t want to be the emotional support and vehicle that gives Daehyun the confidence to continue pursuing Jieun. He just wants to be Daehyun’s like he was there. Without the overbearing thought of Jieun on his mind.

 

Every part of him screams sabotage and ruin. He wants to destroy and confess, but that’s the role of Jieun’s own secondary love interest. Youngjae’s here to fulfill the ‘Unrequited Tragic Maiden’ trope. And it just isn’t time to wrap up his minor character arc, yet. And the way it’ll end will never be the way he hopes.

 

Daehyun, from his obnoxious laughter and endless optimism, Youngjae loves all of him. He’s entitled to be selfish, he thinks, at least once in his life. He could love Daehyun the way he deserves and they could be happy. Maybe they could grow old together and have a yappy lap dog composed of scruff. A little house with a white picket fence.

 

Or maybe Youngjae could learn to move on. But that just sounds even more unrealistic than his other fantasies.

 

Up above on a roof, he sits alone, performing an internal monologue no one asked for. He buries his face in his hands. There’s a sigh pent up inside him, the result of many sleepless nights and unspoken conversations.

 

He lets it out slowly, deflating.

 

Daehyun told him he loved him a month ago. And not so coincidentally, it’s why he finds himself up here when Daehyun’s asleep in the room beneath him. Because he’ll never find him up here.  

 

Youngjae walks through that moment over and over again for all the wrong reasons. He had always thought those words would liberate him in some way, but instead it reveals to him what he’s always known about Daehyun. They’re the same: hopeless, pathetic, desperate.   

 

Youngjae laughs.

 

When Daehyun looks at him, he’s really seeing someone like Jieun. The only real difference being that Youngjae is less intimidating. It’s a more approachable Jieun. A boy who he doesn’t stumble over his words with. Someone where the butterflies don’t flutter like a swarm.

 

Projection.

 

Deception.

 

Rejection.

 

Depression.

 

But this is how the story goes. This is how it all ends. Not with unrequited love, but misguided feelings and false hope. Youngjae isn't Jieun, although Daehyun wishes and imagines. Daehyun's confused and being the piece of he is Youngjae has taken advantage of it.

 

Writing one-oh-one.

 

Have him do something selfish like this and turn the audience’s pity in to disgust. They won’t care about his feelings when Jieun finally experiences the incentive to confesses. And Daehyun inevitably accepts. They’ll just bask in the conclusion of their “will they, won’t they” finally getting resolved. The ultimate plot device. He’s becoming that cliche.

 

Youngjae stares into the distance and catches a glimpse of faint purple. The sun is rising. Another night spent outside again. He descends the stairs back down to the apartment, careful not to stir Daehyun awake. Scooting under the blankets, he closes his eyes and snuggles up against the dreaming boy. Even though he’s asleep, Daehyun reciprocates and draws in closer. He brings a blush to Youngjae’s cheeks.

 

“I love you,” Daehyun slurs in his sleep.

 

Youngjae laughs. Daehyun would be the kind of character who talks in his sleep. How predictable. He closes his eyes and dreams.

 

(Daehyun sits on the roof, in the same spot Youngjae frequents so often. He stared at his back last night from afar. He watched him tremble, from the cold or his emotional bearings, Daehyun will never know. So many times he just wanted to sit beside him and grab his hand. To draw him into an embrace and feel every tense muscle of his relax into him--hold him until the sun rose.

 

He never did, though. When dawn approached and he saw Youngjae get up, he rushed back down into their shared bed. He pretended to sleep, as if he hadn’t move. But he couldn’t resist embracing him and confessing his feelings once more. Because Youngjae’s the main character in his life. It just took a while for him to realize and some time more before Youngjae does himself. It just makes their love story all the more interesting.)

 

Spoiler alert: happy ending.