3 am. It arrives like a gale with the scent of week old mint. A symphony of dark silhouettes and long, downcasted shadows. A time he knows he should be asleep at, but can’t find the energy to do so. Ironic. 

Instead, he’s enraptured in this emptiness concentrated above his stomach. A knot that can’t unfurl. His guts are as tightly wound as the bows on top of presents. 

He rolls over and all he hears is the ruffling of his sheets and the teetering of his bed as his weight shifts. It’s so loud, he thinks his ear drums might burst. Everything is amplified by the pure silence. 

He breathes and the tightness in his body compresses into itself further. He’s going to collapse in on himself. Like a galaxy that reaches the end of time. 

No. That’s not true. He’s not made of stardust or the atoms of great people who once lived. He’s Youngjae: a gay kid in love with his best friend. 

Daehyun is the first person he thinks about when he wakes up in the morning. 

Maybe that’s why he can’t sleep. 

Daehyun is the boy he dreams about.

Maybe that’s why he can’t sleep.

Daehyun’s the first person Youngjae ever wants to tell exciting news to.

Maybe that’s why he’s stayed curled up in bed for days.

Daehyun’s who he sits next to during lectures.

Maybe that’s why he hasn’t attended class in a week.

Daehyun’s beautiful.

And Youngjae isn’t. 

Daehyun is sweet.

And Youngjae isn’t. 

He’s special in ways Youngjae doubts he could ever be like. 

Generic.

Pedantic. 

Average. 

These words consume him. 

They’re the complete opposite of the way Daehyun would describe Youngjae:

Amazing.

Lovable.

Enigmatic.

It’s been a week since Daehyun confessed and took a hold of Youngjae’s hand and kissed it. 

Youngjae sighs. 

His hand crawls out from under the covers and searches for his phone. 

His face illuminates. 

It’s about time he told Daehyun he loved him back, too.