This time, when Kyungsoo woke up, the sun was rising. There was a pounding in his head, and as he shuffled across the room to turn the light on, the pounding got louder. On his journey from his bedroom to the kitchen, Kyungsoo realized that the pounding was coming not from his head, but from his front door. Without asking who was knocking, without looking through the peephole, Kyungsoo opened the door.

            There, standing no more than two feet away, was Jongin. They hadn’t seen each other in two years, and there he was looking the exact same, like he stepped out of a memory. It looked like he had just gotten back from a stay by the ocean. The way the sun illuminated Jongin’s skin made Kyungsoo aware just how much time he kept himself inside. Kyungsoo suddenly realized how different they were. Where Jongin’s hair was tousled, Kyungsoo’s was slicked back. Where Jongin was comfortable, Kyungsoo was stuffing his hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor. There was Jongin, wanting to tie ends together, and there was Kyungsoo, wanting to leave them floating in the wind. Jongin had always been so sure of everything, and the way he had appeared at Kyungsoo’s front door meant that he had already made a decision.

            “It’s good to see you again.” Jongin’s voice was just as it had always been, smooth and gentle, like words were created just to be spoken by him.

            Kyungsoo thought the polite thing to do would be to invite him in, but he couldn’t form the words. Instead, he moved out of the doorway and waited for Jongin to make his way inside. Closing the door behind him, Kyungsoo lead the way to the sofa and sat at the edge, but Jongin didn’t sit. He still stood in the doorway, his back against the doorframe, “If I sit I’m afraid it will be harder for me to leave.”

            Seeing him now, after all this time, made Kyungsoo remember why he never liked ends. When things ended, it meant having to confront them. It meant they’d have to realize that they were never really meant to know one another and that this whole thing, the time they spent together, was never supposed to happen. Endings meant admitting that mistakes were made, and Kim Jongin was not a mistake.

Kyungsoo hadn’t noticed before, but now he was sure. Jongin’s eyes never left him. From the moment he opened the door Jongin’s copper eyes were fixated on him, drawing out every possible reply to the statement that was perched on Jongin’s lips, “I’m here to begin our end.”

The sun was making its pilgrimage to high sky, spilling over the tops of the clouds. Kyungsoo’s eyes were red. His lips were white. The silence was black. Kyungsoo broke, and Jongin was too far away to even attempt to catch him.