Seungho naturally found it weird when he no longer got any calls from Cheolyong’s parents within two months, mainly after they explained Cheolyong had insisted he was too old for a babysitter. Not that he had a hard time understanding Cheolyong was a big boy now and in fact didn’t need anyone taking care of him, but it was odd that he would tell his parents not to invite him again – they’d always gotten along well, and it was more of an excuse of hanging out together than actual work for a long time now. He thought they both saw it that way, so it sort of upset him to find Cheolyong still seemed to think of him as just his babysitter instead of his friend.

 

His confusion did nothing but grow when Cheolyong avoided him – not subtly, in a way that left room for doubt on whether or not Seungho was just imagining things. Cheolyong was pretty obvious. He would turn around and avoid meeting Seungho when they saw each other from a distance, pretend to type or talk to someone on his phone when they walked past each other in the lobby or near the parking lot. At first, Seungho just let him be, frowning at his attitude, but the boy’s detachment slowly began annoying him, making him feel as though he had the right to know why he was being treated that way, even though he didn’t, really.

 

“Oh,” Cheolyong muttered under his breath, face falling as he saw Seungho standing alone in the elevator.

 

The other one gazed back at him, just as surprised – he hadn’t even noticed the stop had been on the floor Cheolyong lived in. When the younger one hesitated, Seungho’s fingers pressed the hold button automatically, and he smiled at the boy, gesturing with his head for him to get in. 

 

Cheolyong slowly smiled back, though it was evident he was forcing it, just as it was evident he was walking in against his will. They greeted each other, and Seungho was about to ask him what he’d be doing that afternoon, maybe they could hang out together, but all those thoughts were immediately abandoned he saw Cheolyong reaching into his pocket to pull out his cellphone, pointedly ignoring Seungho’s presence.

 

Cheolyong finally looked at him once the phone was snapped away from him, now in Seungho’s hands. He looked from the device to Seungho indignantly, reaching out to grab it back, but Seungho was still taller than him even if the height difference between them had lessened considerably over the last year, and he held it up high, away from Cheolyong’s fingers.

 

“This is on the menu screen,” Seungho said after taking a quick glance at the screen. “You weren’t even using this. Why do you keep doing that?”

 

“Doing what?” Cheolyong snapped back in an angry tone, trying one last time to get his cellphone before giving up, leaning back on one of the walls with his arms folded over his chest. “I hope you plan on returning it to me any time soon.”

 

“Doing this,” the older boy chose to ignore the last remark, pointing at Cheolyong as his voice raised a little. “Avoiding me with stupid excuses like this. It’s not funny anymore, Cheolyong, it’s been months now.”

 

“So you had time to notice,” Cheolyong scoffed bitterly, something about his tone bothering Seungho beyond his mind.

 

“What is up with you?” he snarled aggressively, noticing the shock in Cheolyong’s eyes linger for a second before turning into anger that matched his own. “Did I do anything to you? Did I say anything you didn’t like? There must be something behind this.”

 

Biting his tongue to keep all he wanted to say – and there was a lot he would like to tell Seungho in order to answer to that question – and taking a breath, Cheolyong glared at him apathetically, lifelessly. “There’s nothing. I just don’t feel like being around you anymore, simple as that. You’re no babysitter of mine anymore, so quit making a scene out of this. It’s not as if you didn’t have other people you’d rather spend your time with than me, right?”

 

It took them a while to notice the elevator’s door had slid open for a few seconds then. Cheolyong was the first to move, walking out in hurried steps because Seungho was doing that thing again in which he just seemed to take away all the air in the goddamn room, and the older one stayed behind for a few seconds, gaping at nothing.

 

By the time Seungho managed to call onto him, Cheolyong was already approaching the front door of the building. Turning around with an impatient sigh, he cursed at Seungho, asking what he wanted.

 

“You’re right,” Seungho said calmly, his expression completely blank as he held up Cheolyong’s phone, pushing it onto its owner’s chest. “I really am making a worthless scene out of this.”

 

In all honesty, it hadn’t hurt to hear the disappointment in Seungho’s voice, or to feel him bumping into his shoulder as he walked out the front door. It wasn’t the slightly upsetting, because all Cheolyong could think about was Changsun pressing him into the sink in his apartment, the way they’d been smiling against each other’s lips.

 

Cheolyong knew he was the right one, and Seungho was probably just getting a cheap laugh out of this.

 

The school year ended, the rushed rhythm of final exams plus the admission exams they had to take making the final months go by in a blink. Neither of them bothered talking to each other – if anything, they avoided being simultaneously in the same room, each carrying on with his busy life apart from the other, as though they hadn’t even met each other.

 

Cheolyong was excited about going to high school with Dongwoon and Jinwoon, and also Seunghoon, who had unsurprisingly grabbed the first place in the entrance exams, even if it was kind of sad knowing he wouldn’t be seeing the rest of his friends as often. He’d been going to farewell parties, meet-ups for the new students on his next school set on social networks, generally focusing his attention on this new phase of his life.

 

All that really helped him not think about Seungho, even if he did have his moments of distraction.

 

Seungho was waiting for the results for his own exams, the multiple college applications he’d gone through having ended just a while ago. He was also taking the moment to go out with his friends, partly to dissipate the tension of the wait, partly because he wouldn’t be seeing most of them at all from the next year on. His main goal was the University of Seoul, which consecutively meant he’d been preparing himself to move to Seoul – that on its own was already pretty unnerving, the thought of leaving everything behind and start living in a completely unknown place. On the other hand, it wasn’t as bad as it could be, since a lot of his acquaintances, like Changsun and Byunghee, also intended on studying there, it was only a matter of knowing who’d succeed in making it there.

 

To be honest, he had completely forgotten about Cheolyong and his pettiness by then. Sure it had stung at first, it was harsh to find out Cheolyong couldn’t see him as a friend after all the time they spent together and all the things he’d done for him, but he also didn’t take it so seriously. Cheolyong was just a kid, after all. He didn’t see things the way Seungho did, he had different goals. Maybe he just wanted to hang out with friends of his age instead of a senior high school student, and that made perfect sense to Seungho. They were in distinct moments of their lives, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

 

And that’s how they kept until the news of Seungho’s admittance into the University of Seoul reached Cheolyong. Then he understood for the first time he wouldn’t be seeing Seungho at all from then on. That made it much harder for him to keep shoving away all the thoughts about the older one – he would no longer see him walking home from school, or hear his voice when he was in Seunghoon’s bedroom. Seungho would just not be there.

 

He felt pretty much like a loser, weeping in his bedroom for someone who most likely didn’t even care about him. It was all damn his fault for being so overly dramatic, so ridiculous. So what if Seungho was dating Changsun? Why should he care if they would be going to college together in just two weeks? What did it really matter to him, in the end? It shouldn’t make him angry, it shouldn’t feel as though he’d been stabbed in the back, it shouldn’t make his chest tighten just with the faintest thought.

 

Yet, it did all that. He felt all that, and if he had the slightest clue why, but he just couldn’t shake all that off because it just hurt so damn much. He’d become powerless in face of all those complicated feelings, unable to get over himself and just enjoy the little time he’d have with Seungho around. He pictured himself going there, saying he was sorry and inviting Seungho out, or back to his apartment, or offer to watch a movie with him or just do nothing. He simply pictured himself by Seungho’s side, and even got ready to leave his bedroom to make that happen. Something always pulled him back, made him sit down again, made him turn his direction. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after tomorrow. There’s still a week left, five days, three days.

 

And like that, came Seungho’s last day in the city.

 

That sensation of powerlessness only felt heavier that day, and he kept postponing the moment to go talk to Seungho. It was evening already, and Cheolyong knew Seungho would be out then. Seunghoon told him he’d have a farewell night out of some sort, with his friends (and Changsun, because Changsun was always there, even if he’d have Seungho all to himself for the entire year). He knew where it would be, at what time, who would be going. He just had to be there as well, but his feet didn’t move. He just laid back on his bed pathetically, blank stare set on the boring white ceiling, mind out his body, out that city, in Seoul, where Seungho would be but he wouldn’t.

 

“Hyung,” he said quietly into his phone. It was around midnight, he had no idea if Seungho was still out or if he was asleep already. The wind was blowing into the speaker, making it harder for Seungho to understand what he was saying, and he tried fruitlessly to block it with his hand. “I’m at the rooftop.”

 

“Cheolyong?” Seungho was still having troubles identifying the caller with all the noise the wind was making.

 

“It’s pretty cold in here,” Cheolyong went on, voice still very quiet and vague. He cursed himself for not having thought of bringing a coat with him, hugging himself for warmth. “And it’s all dirty, I can’t find a place to sit on.”

 

“Cheolyong, are you ok?”

 

“No,” the boy mumbled, closing his eyes. “I’m just so cold. It’s really freezing up here.”

 

“Ok, just wait a second and I’ll be there, alright?” the line was silent for a while, until Seungho spoke up again. “Do you want me to go up there?”

 

Cheolyong nodded, even though he knew Seungho couldn’t see him, and said nothing. His jaw was trembling, teeth clinking together, and he let go of the phone to rub his arms in an attempt to make himself warmer.

 

He looked at the dingy door opening after a few minutes, Seungho poking his head out of it. He winced at the cold gush of wind that immediately blew into his face and slowly walked out, dressed in a coat and bringing another one in a hand.

 

“I know it’s a rhetorical question, but are you insane?” he asked with a chuckle, handing the extra coat to Cheolyong. “It’s too late to decide you want to explore this lousy rooftop.”

 

Cheolyong, however, was not moving, not even to take the coat that was offered to him. He simply gazed at Seungho, eyes watery from the dry wind, jaw quivering from the cold, arms around himself. Seungho wasn’t sure if he should leave, considering how much effort Cheolyong had put into being away from him in the last months and how indecipherable his actions, or lack of them, were at the moment. Wordlessly, Cheolyong walked closer to him and leaned into his chest, burying his face in the crook of Seungho’s neck.

 

It didn’t take long until Seungho wrapped his arms around him, putting the coat over his shoulders because Cheolyong’s skin felt icy against his to the point of eliciting a shiver. He just let Cheolyong be, holding him tight and caressing his back leisurely. Cheolyong didn’t need reasons to make him do senseless thing like that, Seungho had always known the kid had him on his knees on the floor just with the smallest pout.

 

“I’m so sorry,” the younger one muttered against his skin, arms now moving under Seungho’s coat to properly hold him. “I was so dumb and now you’re going away.”

 

Seungho shushed him, tightening even more his embrace. He didn’t know why Cheolyong was taking it so seriously, the boy should know he wouldn’t be mad at him at that point. Figuring Cheolyong was just missing him before he left, Seungho remained quiet for a while, letting him get all the physical proximity he needed.

 

“Hey,” he called out after a while, and Cheolyong replied with a muffled hum. “Let’s go back inside for now.”

 

“I don’t want to go,” the younger one said, holding tighter onto him.

 

“You can stay with me,” Seungho amended, pulling back to face the boy. “We can go to my bedroom and watch a movie or something. I just want to get out of here, I’m freezing cold.”

 

“But you’ll have to sleep before you catch your flight,” Cheolyong glanced down sadly.

 

“Says who,” Seungho said with a smile, patting Cheolyong on the shoulder. “Come on, we can stay up all night. I’ll just sleep on the plane, or when I get there. Just ing hurry before my veins freeze over.”

 

Cheolyong punched his arm as they walked back inside.

 

“You can’t curse around me, hyung,” he said with a cheeky grin, dodging Seungho’s retaliating fist with practiced ease.

 

It was painful to see Seungho leave to the airport, and he’d refused to go see him get onboard because he didn’t want to make the departure any longer and harder than what it already was for him (and he didn’t have it in him to see Changsun alongside him, walking into the same plane as him, while he’d stay behind), but he knew it would have hurt a thousand times more if he hadn’t apologized before he went away. Before leaving the apartment, Seungho had hugged him, filling Cheolyong’s nostrils with the scent of his cologne, and told him to grow some sense, and just that was enough to convince Cheolyong that this last contact, this last piece of memory, had been completely worth it in the end.