It's never easy to discover that a person you once loved has found someone new, regardless of how you feel for that person. There's a certain stirring deep down, a needling of pain that serves to remind you that you're not the end-all be-all. They have found someone else equally suitable, if not better. They are capable of living without you. In other words, you have been replaced.

I saw that look in Hangeng's eyes when Jessica passed in front of us with a new man on her arm. She was strutting in her usual fashion, boot heels clacking on the sidewalk underfoot, leather-clad hips swaying coquettishly. Her henna brown hair reached sleekly down her back, a few strands blown astray by the light wind. Full lips painted a deep red were poised in a confident smirk, and her dark eyes were focused on the young man beside her.

He was slightly taller than her, and he walked with almost the same strut. His clothes were tastefully bedraggled in the vintage-chic style, and hair was styled upward. One of his gloved hands was set dangerously low on her waist, and it slipped a few inches to give her bottom a squeeze as they passed in front of us.

As the crude gesture was displayed, I looked back to Hangeng. He was still staring at the couple, and the expression he wore disturbed me greatly. It was one of purest longing; of crushing defeat; of fiery jealousy; of deepest, unrequited love. He said nothing, but his eyes spoke volumes, and every syllable tore my heart apart. Realization came crashing down upon me, and I wondered just how long he had been harbouring his feelings.

Even as the couple moved from our sight, the air remained thick with the tension of their presence. Hangeng was standing stock-still, seemingly unaware that he had stopped walking.

I removed my hand from his lifeless one, resigned to what was necessary and trying to numb myself to the consequences. It was very clear what had just happened, and it made all that we were a lie.

"You love her," I stated, and I was surprised to hear how steady my voice was.

He did not respond, but he seemed to snap out of his trance. His head slowly turned to face me, though his expression had changed little. The hurt he felt was palpable, and it smothered me in radiating waves.

"This is wrong." My breath hitched a little as I inhaled deeply. I worried that my voice might begin to shake. My fingers were already trembling violently. "We're wrong."

"No..." he interjected, but it was weak, nothing more than a default reaction.

"You love her," I repeated, now speaking with a tremor. "I see it. I feel it. Geng, I...I love you, but I can't do this to you. We're obviously not meant to be together. This is unfair to you."

He closed his eyes. " Heechul..."

"Stop," I commanded, having no intention of letting him rationalize or explain his way out of the situation. I knew how he felt now. "We thought that this would be a good idea. Yeah, it seemed wrong, but...love means it's okay, right? No matter what anyone else says? That's what I thought, anyway. And...you know, I still feel that way. Love makes things okay." I paused a moment to breathe deeply again, feeling my control slipping another few notches. "And you love her. So...it's okay. Go after her."

His eyes reopened, and I was shocked to see that tears had gathered. This Chinese dongsaeng of mine, always the stoic, was revealing emotion that I had never witnessed in the six years we've spent together. Still he was silent, but he did not need to speak. I had long ago learned to understand him without words, as if we had developed some sort of telepathic bond. Such was our connection...it was one of the things that had made us believe that this could work.

Foolish ideas from foolish youths.

" We tried, Geng. You've got to give us that much. But this proves it. Seeing her made me realize...you're not meant to be with me. You never were. It was selfish of me to think that you could be mine. It's not right. You want to be with her. It's okay. I understand. That's how it's supposed to be. That's how life works."

His hand twitched, looking for a moment as if he was about to reach up and lay it upon my shoulder, but it came to rest by his side once more. The pain was still in his eyes, but it was not in refute of my words—it was in acknowledgement of them. He knew exactly what I was talking about, because it was the truth. It was the stabbing, gut-wrenching, heart-tearing truth.

" You and Jessica...you two can be together. " The words were like acid on my tongue, but I ploughed on. " Life wants couples like you two to happen. Us? We're wrong. Our type of relationship is considered disgusting. What kind of relationship is that anyway, when we have to keep it a secret? We're a mistake. " I bit back the anguish that was threatening to take over as I forced out the words that I so desperately did not want to say. Perhaps they held truth, but that did not make them any less agonizing.

" I love you, " I said again. " Don't forget it. But you love her. So just...go after her. " Stop the façade, I wanted to say, but it seemed cruel. I could not do that to him, despite what he had been doing to me emotionally for months.

A single tear trickled down his face. To most, it would look like a tiny show of emotion, but to me, it was a symphony of despairing cries. He was getting what he wanted—maybe what he had always wanted, what was right—but he was also losing something...something wonderful; intangible; inexplicable to the world. We were both were. He knew it as well as I did. A part of me was silently begging him to prove me wrong, to show me that he wanted me and only me, that we could work...but he did not.

" Don't worry about me, " I assured with my best attempt at a smile, trying to hide that I was dying inside. " I'll be fine. It's okay. I'm just your hyung. We'll always be friends. "

For a moment he only stood there, staring into my eyes. It took all of my strength to hold onto my composure as the tide of emotion continued to cascade over me. Then he stepped forward and pulled me into a tight embrace.

"I love you, Heechul, " he breathed into my ear. Again, it was not said to deny my words. This was it. This was the end.

He drew away, but not before placing a single kiss on my forehead. He then turned his eyes away and headed off—in what direction, I did not particularly care. After her, maybe.

And then he was gone.

The question remained, though, of whether he was ever truly there.