There is nothing left to say.

We’re sitting on the couch, barely 30 centimeters apart but might as well be in different kind of universe. He, with possibilities and hope, while me, in a static train to doomsday. I can feel the wind run around us, carrying promises and oath we once said would never be broken, ones that are now shattered, covered with lies and dust of my own insecurities.

Time is ticking, there is never a turning back. Moon shines because the world doesn’t stop even though my life is reaching its end. His breath comes out in long exhale. His feet that were always restlessly dancing to music I couldn’t hear, are now still, too afraid to move. Those hands that would always do something, anything, whenever I needed it to, are moving toward himself, shielding his skin from coming close to me.

It’s not that I don’t understand, it’s just that I wish I don’t have to.

I don’t want to see him, but his voice possess something I consider magnetic as it has been drawing me to him, closer and closer as years passed. When he says my name, it takes everything for me not to turn around and tell him that it was all joke, I was just messing around because he looked so beautiful tonight. He looked so concerned by my state that it’s so hard not to tell him the truth. But probably, I shouldn’t.

“Hyung.”

The earth rotates backward in my head, sending me tumbling into the mess of my thoughts. I need to scream, I have to do something. It’s painful and I deserve it but he doesn’t. They don’t. There are too many things at stake, risks and obstacles coming into our way if I keep doing this. There are too many I need to let go.

There is him, I should be able to set free.

My heart pounds in my ribcage, unforgiving to my own sin. My fingers curl into fist, nails bluntly digging on my skin to leave scars that might settle as reminder and temporary place that bleed than my mind. It’s too hard to fake a smile.

Silence engulfs us like blanket of invisible fog, standing vigil as walls so I won’t break through it, so he won’t dare to reach out. I used to be someone who never knew how to act when he was around, even more clueless when he wasn’t near. At this moment, my head is the clearest I can see me standing in distance as his back slowly disappears from my sight.

“Seunghyun–hyung…”

Reality is that he’s still sitting by my side and tomorrow, as day begins anew, I will not restart my life as much as he will have the memories of today imprinted in his mind. This is nothing like I expected, this is not what I thought it would become. In my dream, he would say that it’s alright. In my nightmare, he would leave without a word. There’s never in my imagination that he would question,

“Who?”

There was never a face. There was never really a person, not even once an individual. It’s a colorful rainbow I spot everywhere. It’s what I ran from. It’s always a what.

“Seunghyun–hyung…who?”

He moves to kneel in front of me, sitting on his legs. His face, slightly round and totally bare, is looking up to me. His eyes are plainly open, bluntly coming to my display, dimming the light in the room. His lips quiver when he asks the same question again, I find an answer.

I never thought about it before.

There are reasons why I would call him whenever I was troubled. So many but I never came into this one, like now. There are people I could hang out with without having to tell him about, I never thought it’s important to ask myself why I would depend on him like a lifeline. Like a sinking ship, I’d anchor myself to his being; one steady rock and incompatible joy of laughter. I wonder if it will take him away from me, the discovery crawls under my skin and I shift in discomfort.

Outside, the night falls.

“Please?”

Plea in his tone sets my hair prickled. It’s not cold, but rather a fire. It burns a hole in a place deep inside me I didn’t know exist until today. Not even in those moments I wish I could die I ever knew about this kind of pain.

“You,” I say, the first word after my confession. You, I wish, the last word I really want him to know after what I’ve said before.

You, I want to sing a song to soothe him but know in every bit that I can’t. I hurt him, it’s visible it’s starting to choke myself too. How dare I drag him deeper into this?

His eyes widened as he repeats the word with his own mouth. His expression twisted in between rage and hurt. I want to say that I’m sorry but I’m always a selfish person, especially when it comes to him. I’m disgusted by my own ego but there’s nothing I can do to undo. I’ve been tangled in this chaos for as long as I can remember.

“Me?”

He whispers shakily, unsteadily, so unlike himself. A tidal wave of nausea rolls from my stomach to my throat, my sight becomes blurry and light fades into jumbled of colors. I don’t know I’m going to reach him until I do, his sweater soft and warm under my touch. He doesn’t flinch, probably in daze, as everything can take such turn that we can’t even see yesterday anymore. I can’t recall the day when we first met. I’m not sure if it is better be forgotten.

I’m not sure of anything at this moment.

The second I start to cry, his presence invades my senses mercilessly. His lips, wet and persistent, are being pressed against mine in such desperation it pushes me back against the cushion, the seat I’ve been occupying for almost an hour now. I am left shaking when he pulls back, staggered and ridiculously wanting for his explanation even as I gave him nothing of mine.

Droplets of tears falling from his eyes break me from my trance.

A surge of sadness creeps to my chest when he leans to my touch as I cup his face, his nose mere an inch from mine. His feature, usually sturdy and strong, melts into something I won’t recognize if only I’m not one.

“Daesung…”

He wraps his arms around my neck, practically straddling my hips. His sobs hit my shoulder repeatedly, it’s an affirmative I need to hear. I feel his hands my shirt in desperate attempt to make it go, to make everything fade away so we won’t be hurting anymore. I pull him closer until his warmth has nowhere else to go but right to my clothed skin, slipping through the threads.

Will we ever figure out a way to pretend this never happen?

It’s a storm and thunderbolts but finally feelings crash against the shore and we move, almost in the same moment. I look into his eyes and he reads through me, as always.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” he manages to work his throat while I still can’t find my voice. It’s probably stuck somewhere in the past when things were less complicated.

I watch him trying to bring himself to say it but it’s a sight I can’t bear to keep in memory. So I save him from confessing by repeating the sentence I’ve said, this time with clearer mind and much more determination to lift up the veil I’ve been hiding it under.

“I don’t know what I am,” I squeeze his hand and he doesn’t pull back from my hold. His gaze bore onto my, spurting keys for doors I’ve been trying to unlock. “But I might be into guys as well as I am into girls.”

Neither of us can say the word but then his weight shifts from my lap, moves to sit by my side. His head falls on my shoulder and I realize that it’s him, this time, who is clinging onto me. For strange reason, it gives me courage even more than when he gave me comfort.

“Daesung,” I speak, threading our fingers together. I can feel him still shaking, still wishing this all will be gone by morning. “I understand.”

He nods, small gesture that makes my head turn as I kiss his forehead lightly. A sigh escapes and he looks so tired, so complicated, but it is a familiar sight. It’s something I’ve missed to see because I was too clouded to pay attention. He’s been hurting too, just that thought alone makes me feel so bad.

He’s been hurting too and only God knows how long he’s been hiding, just like me. What did he do? Whom did he ask for shoulder? Was he crying as he tried to cheer me up?

“It’s you,” he whispers. His hair rushes down to cover his eyes and I brush them up, tucking them behind his ear. “It’s always been you and I thought it was so –”

“–wrong,” I finish his sentence. “Because I’m not a girl.”

“Yeah,” he grits his teeth, probably trying to make sense of himself, of us. “And I couldn’t go away.”

“From me,” in different life and destiny, I would make it a joke to , one I would pull out everything he nagged on me. But now, right now, in this fate I have to bear, I can’t find what’s so funny about it. I’ve been struggling with the fear of getting too attached into someone I shouldn’t, scared of being caught for something I can’t barely control.

“Always you,” he breathes. “Always.”

The thought of that he always knew it’s me while I refused to acknowledge the fact that I might probably different than what people want me to be to be struck me like lightning bolt. My apology comes in kisses I press repeatedly on his lips. He leans to my touch almost in a form of forgiving.

“I’m sorry,” I say against his skin. I’ve ran away from the world and came to break his walls, unknowingly pushing him to the edge. Just how long he planned to get hurt for me? To ignore his own pain so he could give me home I begged? To answer my calls despite that it meant faking a smile as he approached me?

Me, I just realize that it’s been him all along.

Butterflies in my stomach explode into fireworks and finally, after a long time, I can hear the quiet without noises in my head telling me to rip my own skin. Finally, with his arms around me and world revolves in its orbit, I see myself again. Battered, bruised, but never really alone.

“What are we going to do?” he asks, already guessing that I won’t answer.

But I want to, I need to. It’s not only about me anymore, it’s about him, about us.

“Get through,” I fight the silence, tattooing those words in the back of my mind.