november 2019

He’d spent half of the day in his wardrobe, constantly going from standing in front of the mirror with a sceptical expression on his face to sitting on the floor staring at the pieces of clothing scattered around him, hoping what he was looking for would jump out of the mess on its own; and the other half of the day on the phone with Jiyong, desperately crying out and snapping at him every two seconds.
 
Now, he was sitting on the edge of his couch, ready to leap to the door at the sound of the bell, fidgeting uncomfortably with the hem of his sweater’s sleeve; he’d put a lot of thinking into the way he was dressed, going from various different shirts (and deciding at the last moment that it was a bit too much, too formal, he didn’t want to make the situation weird, it couldn’t be something too unusual, he had to look like his normal self; without even considering the fact that, normally, he did wear shirts), to t-shirts (he’d thrown all of them in a corner of the closet, swearing against himself for even thinking about them; it was November, he would look crazy), and had finally set on a simple sweater, which he was slowly destroying, pulling at the loose strings. He wasn’t sure it was good enough, also because his pants were too fancy, and were in stark contrast with the rest; but he’d decided he could wear jeans, for some reasons. He knew he looked good, but he wasn’t sure it was enough.
 
That had been the topic of his argument with Jiyong; he didn’t even know what he was trying to look good for. He didn’t know what to do, and didn’t even know what he’d been thinking when he’d invited Daesung over for dinner (you know, since they still hadn’t seen each other after his discharge) with the determination of telling him everything he had to tell him.

Yeah, exactly, that was the point: what was he supposed to say? He couldn’t just throw his feelings on his face and hope he would be okay with it. Sure, they had kissed, and more than once, but it didn’t mean anything; he doubted that, for his dongsaeng (no, he would never stop calling him that, for how much stupid it sounded), it had meant more than kissing random girls because he wanted to. He wasn’t good with words, and was surely even worse with that kind.
 
As Jiyong had repeated to him at least one hundred times, he just needed to be himself and tell him only if he felt ready to accept the consequences; he didn’t think he would ever be ready, so, he’d decided that he had to tell him now or he would never do it. But that wasn’t even the worst part of it all.

Seunghyun knew he couldn’t change himself, he couldn’t magically fix his head with love; thinking about it, after having understood that those emotions weren’t easy and that they weren’t exactly black and white, he’d realised he’d probably been in love more times than he liked to admit, and the reason why his relationships had always failed wasn’t because he couldn’t fall in love, but because he loved too intensely and never truly let the people he cared about get close to him beyond a certain point, as he was terribly afraid of getting hurt.

Of course, Daesung wasn’t the only one, but he was the present; the mistakes he’d made in the past didn’t matter anymore, he just didn’t want to repeat them, didn’t want to lose someone else.
 
He’d stared at his reflection for a while, trying to talk himself into doing it as if he didn’t care, because if he didn’t care he couldn’t get hurt by the answer he would receive (liar). He’d spent more time silently talking to himself than trying to fix his hair decently and now he kind of felt like an idiot; he’d persuaded himself that it wasn’t that difficult, anyway, that, once he saw him, he would know what to say, he just needed to remember not to push away his thoughts like he was used to, that he could use them to force the right words out of his mind.
 
He bolted up faster than he’d thought possible when the bell rang, and rushed to the door, stumbling on his own feet and almost knocking over a lamp; he felt like a drowning sailor desperately trying to reach the shore, kind of pathetic.

When he opened the door, he suddenly felt better about himself, because Daesung seemed to be even more embarrassed than he was, as he stood in front of him, seemingly unsure where to look, with a rather awkward beanie pulled down to cover his head, and a mask that only let his eyes uncovered.

After a moment of silence, the younger pulled his mask away and offered him a small and gentle smile; Seunghyun heart rate uneasily speed up in a second, and he wondered how it was possible than a simple smile made him feel like that, or how he’d never realised before, considering it had to have happened before, he’d probably just decided to ignore it because he’d felt it was better that way.
 
“You look good, hyung.” Daesung said, his voice low and unsteady, not meeting his eyes, as if he was ashamed of what he’d just said; the older didn’t even notice, too occupied dealing with the inexplicable fluttering of his heart, that made him understand just how much he’d missed him, how much he had needed to see him again. He laughed stiffly when he realised he was standing still and wasn’t letting the other in, who was giving him a puzzled look; he almost fell back when he moved away from the door, and found himself not knowing what to do, knowing it wouldn’t be good for his heart to hug him, but also knowing that he would be strange if he didn’t. At the end, he just took his coat from him and told him to settle himself, slapping his own forehead repeatedly while he hung the piece of clothing in the closet. This wasn’t going as he’d planned and he never had a plan in the first place; breathing deeply, he walked to his dining room and tried his best to look normal.
 
He noticed Daesung was still wearing that damn beanie and was fidgeting nervously, and he couldn’t find an explanation for that.
 
“You can take it off, we’re inside.” first of all, that phrase had gotten out completely wrong, and, even if he’d pointed at the hat with his head, it wasn’t better at all; and, second, the younger looked mortified, as if he’d just been caught stealing. For a second, he didn’t move, he stared down at his own hands; and then, slowly, he raised on of them and pulled off the beanie, clutching it with his fingers, still not looking at him.
 
Oh, my god. He couldn’t be for real; he was a ing idiot. He was embarrassed because of his hair, because it was cut short on the sides and stuck up in every direction at the top; what did he think he would do, throw him out of his house because he didn’t like his hair? And, moreover, he didn’t know why he cared, anyway, this was just an innocent dinner between friends, it wasn’t a date (well, not completely). Because, it couldn’t possibly be that he was afraid he didn’t look good enough, that he’d put as much thought and effort into how he looked as he had; seemed too much of a stretch.
 
He walked right beside him and put his hands over his, making Daesung look up at him with big, dark, unreadable (scared?) eyes.
 
“I think you look good no matter what.” his dongsaeng gawked at him for a moment longer than necessary, and Seunghyun sensed his own face heat up; he couldn’t believe he’d just said that! He’d basically told him that he was beautiful, just like that. Not that it wasn’t the truth, but he could’ve stopped himself from making the situation even more uncomfortable than it already was. He let go of him at decided it would be better to try and ease the tension, if he really wanted to get to the real reason why he’d invited him.
 
Some food he had most definitely not order from the restaurant around the corner and maybe a bit too many glasses of one of his best wines after, the tension had definitely eased and everything almost seemed normal; Seunghyun almost ended up forgetting what he had to do, talking excitedly about the new paintings he intended to buy and many things he planned to do and listening contently as Daesung told him some funny story about a thing that had happened to Youngbae not so long ago, something neither of them would never let him forget.

Right now, they were sitting on the couch, all of their initial awkwardness completely forgotten, and Seunghyun was probably tipsier than it was good for him, and he could pretend he hadn’t gobbled down glass after glass of wine, wanting nothing more but all that damn tension to disappear, but it wouldn’t be true.
 
And he wished the words would just speak themselves, without putting him in the embarrassing situation he would be forced to face. They’d been quiet for a while, as their laughter died in their throats and the air seemed to get cold again, and the distance that had been there at the begging was coming back; he knew he had to act, that he didn’t want a wall of unspoken things between them, but he’d never been a romantic person, had never even bothered trying to be one, and now, he wasn’t exactly sure what one was supposed to do.
 
He stole a glance at Daesung, observing him as he swirled the remaining wine in his glass, looking into the void, and almost hoped he would say something first; which was ridiculous, because he actually doubted he felt the same way. Out of sudden, surprising even himself, driven by the alcohol in his system and totally not by his common sense, Seunghyun reached out a hand and brushed the younger’s cheek with his fingertips.
 
“Daesung-ah.” he called out, his voice so deep it didn’t even seem his own; there was desperate note in it, and he found himself pathetic, needy, like a kid who wanted attention after losing the spotlight for barely a second. The other turned around, slowly, setting his glass on the table and the older could swear he was shaking; without thinking, his mind going completely blank again, as he fell once again into his dark irises (he was starting to get used to it, starting to be addicted to the feeling), he softly dragged his fingers along his cheek, down to his jawline, slipping his hand on the side and behind his neck, stopping there.
 
What would have happened if he’d gotten closer to him and had asked him to kiss him, just like that? He wasn’t sure how he would’ve reacted, but he barely had the time to ask himself that question, before Daesung suddenly stood up, escaping his touch, as if his fingers had burned him, and mumbled something that vaguely sounded like he’d said that he was going to get a refill of wine. Seunghyun remained still for a second, almost petrified, his hand still raised helplessly; shaking himself out of it, he sighed and bit his bottom lip. He was sure he was making a mess, he shouldn’t have drunk so much, it wasn’t helping him at all; it was making matters worse, if anything.
 
He got up as well and followed his dongsaeng, studying his next move in his head, sure he was sinking deeper at the bottom of the ocean, unable to swim back up; he found him with his elbows on the counter and his face buried into his hands, the glass of wine in front of him, empty, untouched. He was sure he was crying, silently, probably trying to calm himself down before it was too late; but, well, it seemed like it was too late, because he was there to see it. And it broke something inside his soul, in the darker and unexplored side of it, the one where he’d hidden all the thoughts he hadn’t wanted or hadn’t been supposed to have, during his entire life; it was infinitely painful to see him like that, his shoulders slumped down, seemingly hopeless.
 
He threw aside everything he’d wanted to do and tell him; he only needed to know what was bothering him, and nothing else mattered, everything was forgotten. He walked to him, careful not to make any sudden noise, and, even more cautiously, delicately, placed his hand on his back; at first, nothing strange happened, his whole body became stiff, and they stood in a terrifyingly perfect silence, only broken by the sounds coming from the outside world. Then, suddenly, because there was a limit to what a human being could endure, Daesung almost literally jumped away from his touch, again, fully turning around, shoving him further away, clearly without thinking.
 
Seunghyun stumbled back a few steps, steadying himself grabbing on the edge of the stone counter, confused as he’d never been before in his entire life; he stared at his own feet for a moment, trying to find a sense to what had just happened, unsure what he was supposed to do or say. Something had gone terribly wrong with his plan for the night and he couldn’t figure out what; sure, there had been an initial moment of awkwardness, and that was given, considering everything that had happened in the past years, but then the situation had eased down and everything had seemed to be fine, until he- Oh. Oh. He was a ing idiot, a damn moron. He shouldn’t have acted without thinking, it never ended well when he acted out of instinct; he’d done it too many times before and he should’ve known what not to do again. Yet, there he was, making the same mistakes, all over again; and he couldn’t concentrate, he couldn’t think straight, he could only desperately try to find a way to fix this mess.
 
“What the  do you want from me, Seunghyun?!” Daesung eventually snapped at him, his voice breaking as he pronounced his name, and the older inexplicably felt like that word (broken); looking up at him, he noticed that tears were streaming down his face and that he was biting his bottom lip, his hands closed into fists (and he could imagine that his nails were sinking into the soft flesh of his palm).

He looked vulnerable, so fragile he felt the sudden urge to wrap his arms around him and protect him from the whole universe, but he knew that the only person he needed protection from was him, because he kept hurting and hurting and hurting him (they’d hurt each other so many times during the years and had never realised before). He didn’t want anything from him, nothing at all, he wanted to give him everything but he didn’t know how.
 
He stared at him, trying to find an answer in his flustered face, in the glistening of the tears against his skin; trying to find the words he needed to say, even while knowing perfectly what he was supposed to say. Three simple words that could change everything, that could sweep away all the clouds of doubt; but he didn’t know if he would be able to say them, because, after all, inside his heart, he was still scared, so scared the fear physically stopped him from saying them, and save what could still be saved. And, so, again, he acted without thinking, because that was the only thing he could do, fill his mind with absolutely nothing, to give himself enough strength, courage.
 
When Daesung tried to speak again, tired of the silence, tired of all that nothingness, tired of being ignored, Seunghyun reached him in less than a second, almost colliding with him and pushing him back, and kissed him, without warning; it wasn’t supposed to go that way, but that was what he’d felt the need to do. And he honestly hadn’t expected him to kiss him back, but he was; he’d maybe tried to fight against it for barely a second, before surrendering under his touch, as if he’d known he wouldn’t be strong enough to pull back.
 
It didn’t make any sense, Seunghyun reasoned, trying his best not to drift away, caught in the wave of their lips smashing together, slowly, but gradually faster, gradually more ardently. He didn’t understand, he didn’t understand why he hadn’t pushed him away again, since before he’d kept flinching at his touch, as if he was a flame scorching his flesh.

Maybe that was what he was: a raging wildfire, alluring and strikingly beautiful, filling trees with orange, yellow and red pigment, the air with dark and dense smoke, the forest bursting with light, but also extremely dangerous, lethal, killing everything on its path; he destroyed everything he touched, and it was better to stay away from him, as he was something you couldn’t fight.
 
They separated to breathe (something they had seemingly forgotten they had to do for several seconds), their foreheads resting against each other, and Daesung asked him the same question, in a whisper, gently, trembling almost imperceptibly, a whiff of wind away from his mouth. Seunghyun didn’t answer immediately, he left a tender kiss on the edge of his lips, trying to find the courage to mutter those damn words; and he couldn’t, he couldn’t.
 
“I…”
 
Because he didn’t know. After all that time, he still didn’t know, couldn’t figure himself out. And what if it wasn’t love? He didn’t know anything about that emotion, as he’d said himself, it wasn’t black and white, it wasn’t easy to understand, and it was even harder to get for someone like him.

He couldn’t tell that he loved him, because maybe it wasn’t true; maybe his head didn’t work like it did for other people, and maybe love didn’t, either. He did love him, he loved him so much he was afraid his heart would break into pieces, he would’ve given him the moon if he asked him to, he would’ve given him everything, he wanted to protect him, he wanted to look at him for the rest of his life; but he wasn’t sure he loved him differently from how he would’ve loved a friend, and it seemed stupid, and maybe the answer would’ve been obvious to anybody else, but not him. He wanted to kiss him, to hold him, and then what? No, he didn’t want that with anybody else, but it didn’t mean anything.
 
It was too much; he couldn’t understand. He was scared, he didn’t want to hurt him, but now he couldn’t let him go, maybe because he was selfish, or maybe because he knew that he would hurt him anyway if he tried to push him away, and to forget everything that happened once again.
 
“I want you.” it sounded wrong and right all the same; it wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t the truth, it was something in between. Daesung stared at him for a moment, as if both astonished and puzzled by his honesty, before looping an arm around his waist and pulling him even closer, sighing, perhaps because he didn’t know what else he could’ve expected, perhaps resigning himself to the fact that he couldn’t have anything more from him. “I want to be with you.” he continued, and found himself being nudged against the counter behind him, the younger’s hands falling on his hips, firmly pushing back.
 
Their lips found each other again, and, this time, the kiss wasn’t soft or slow, it was hot, rough and messy; they were biting at each other’s skin, as if they were having a fight over who was in control, Daesung had a hand buried in his hair, and was gripping on the strands, and Seunghyun had found his way under his clothes, his palm pressed up against his chest, over his heart (it was beating excessively fast, it could explode at any moment, killing them both in the process). Pulling back, they both were intoxicated, with hazy eyes and neither of them gave a damn about it.
 
“But I can’t be in a relationship.” the older added, almost immediately, panting slightly; it was true, he knew it was the only way to save what could be saved. He couldn’t destroy their relationship if they weren’t together in the first place; they would be the same as they used to be, plus the kissing and everything else. It wasn’t difficult to understand, it was easier that way, would be less painful that way. It would be like watching the wildfire from a distance, knowing it couldn’t hurt you, but getting the chance to look at its beauty as it kept raging and, slowly, died.
 
“We don’t have to be.” there was a note of extreme kindness, and of cautiousness, in Daesung’s voice and Seunghyun felt like melting for a moment; just a brief moment, though, because the younger moved his lips to his neck and his mind went blank again.

He felt like it was okay if he didn’t know what he was feeling if Daesung didn’t care about it, if he wanted to be with him anyway, even knowing that it was going to be strange and that nobody would understand (about that, he was positive Jiyong was going to murder him for keeping silent and he would never hear the end of it; but for him it was easy, even if he’d his difficulties, too, at the beginning, now he knew where he stood, he knew perfectly what was inside his heart, he knew what he wanted very clearly).
 
He put his hands on the back of Daesung’s neck and forced him to stop and look at him; again, he forgot how to breathe. His eyes were glimmering with a light he’d never seen before, and it was so bright it blinded him for a moment, and he found himself falling into him like uncountable times before, until there wasn’t space for anything except him, him, him.
 
Daesung. Daesung. Daesung.
 
“Kiss me.” he murmured, his voice huskier than it’d ever been.
 
When their lips connected again, he knew immediately they weren’t going to separate for a long time; and he still wasn’t sure if his plan for the night had gone unbelievably right or disastrously wrong.
 
Maybe he didn’t care; he didn’t care, if he could have him.