Decadent fingers diligently pressed at the colorless keys, their motion albeit anemic, stayed sedulous in yearning for improvement harbored in that small, beating heart encased in marble confinement of ribs, trembling so faintly one would deem it still.
 
Joonmyeon’s countenance showed no change – a steady, bleak expression marring his eyes that focused onto following the black notes intertwined with staff, their winding appearance confusing even his trained mind as they dared shifting, misleading him to press wrong keys. He would cringe unwittingly, teeth clamping down as the mellifluous melody turned dissonant, long gone from its initial mellowness. It became wistful, sardonic in its sound with scorning scrutiny for the world, and resembled naught of what the composer felt when the notes trickled from his quill dipped in ink, naught of that joy or delight. Its delicateness was lost in the turmoil of vexation that coursed through young man’s blood, emotion so dread he feared it.
 
 
 
In that single moment of divine illumination, his mind was hit by the greatest sound of all – so revolting, so salacious, and yet, kept wrapped in a chaste veil of shrewdness where the carnality of its thoughts only smoldered like dying fire, a faint reminiscence of its true nature. And as his fingers boldly followed suit his thoughts, his hurt wrist suddenly forbade all of it, a sudden, fiery pang of vehement pain running up his hand and immobilizing his fingers, a still gasp caught hitched in his throat as his lips, pulled awry in a strained grimace, gave out the sight of pain tormenting him. Again. Yet again it happened. A curse so wretched, so spiteful he dared not think about it. It had been seven weeks, seven bloody weeks and his wrist showed no signs of recovery- not even the fleetest of moments had it stopped hurting whenever he would play.
 
 
 
He found it soothing, the way his closed winter garden was filled with coolth that ebbed away his pain, his soft gasps coming out as puffs whenever he parted his lips already itching from cold, them dispersing into thin air like fog, disappearing from stolid sight. Only his winter garden was big enough to room his massive instrument, its bleak color merging it with the pureness of glass walls that encased it, an immense, stifling glass cage that drowned Joonmyeon in his own remorse, regret filling every and last corner of his sanctuary. He gave obscure glances to the lush, fleshy plants hanging from the ceiling, their winding stems eagerly desiring to reach the ground, desperate in attempt to unite the earth and sky divided, lovers apart, their buds slowly opening with first rays of sun that permeated through the transparent confinement of the room, titillating them to show the natural beauty and diversity of their petals so early in the winter. Joonmyeon found it painfully endearing how they tried to touch the marble floor, swaying gently as a cold breeze danced through the room from the open window, mingling between their emerald leaves and coaxing them to follow along his merry moves, knowing his mother will cut them off and style it to the length she desired when they reach it, unknown to them that earth and sky shall never meet.
 
 
 
In that moment, like a ghost, an appearance so frail and brittle, so unreal filled the void of the room, long, strangely warm and amiable fingers pressing against the rosy skin of Joonmyeon’s cheeks, startling him from his stupefied demeanor. He felt them trail a ghostly line, buoyant and weightless, down to his strong jaw where they cupped his face, burying into the cold flesh, eager to make that head snap around. He heartily complied with their want, craning his neck to see the lithe appearance who so tenderly cradled him, yet just as his eyes were about to graze its quivering silhouette, it was gone, not even the faintest, tiniest of remnants remaining to testify of its reality. His lips closed into a tight line, dawning realization of the futility of his illusions suddenly overwhelming him like a wave, crushing at his lucid thoughts and crumbling down his defenses.
 
 
 
-“Aah…” He let out a soft whisper, closing his eyes as he tried to recollect his scattered, scarce sane thoughts and focus on something more solid than memories of Jongdae that haunted him like damned witches, appearing in most unwelcome and undesired forms of all – as apparitions, unreal and immaterial, yet to his yearning mind, they were as the truest, realest of flesh. Just like the Jongdae he met at school every day, like the boy that trudged along with him home, like the little pest that wailed from its own incompetence, they were so real.
 
And with the thought of other’s boys pale lips thin like willow leaves curving into a delighted smile, the last rational part of him shattered into millions of pieces so sharp and thin, like paper, that cut through his soul in the motion of sharpest of blades, his eyes closing in ruth, longing back for his sanity.
 
 
 
Soft tapping on the glass door to his right brought his attention from the pit of resentment to his younger brother who, still donning his teddy bear pyjama, clung to the cold glass, his tired, droopy eyes and bleary, muddled gaze stuck for his stoic appearance sitting in front of the white, grand piano, fingers still resting on the keys.
 
It’s cold there, he saw Sehun mouth, his hand tentatively inviting him to enter the much warmer and more suitable room of the house, notably the living room, where he noticed pair of tea cups steaming on the coffee table, the faint smoke arising and making his tongue yearn for the sweet herb taste of tea he knew Sehun made, yet for what purpose exactly, he couldn’t say.
 
 
Despite being three years younger, grazing his fifteenth year, his little brother still dressed in childish attire when going to sleep, something on occasion not avoided even with daily clothes such as shirts that often had a teddy print or softer, pastel colors adorning them. He honestly hoped Sehun would get over that ridiculous phase, for his obsession with teddy bears turned into a collection of plush animals, teddy bear erasers, pencils, pencil cases and other school assortment. Sighing, he languidly dragged his feet across the floor as his brother quickly opened the door for him, letting him pass through the crack in the doorway before slamming them shut, his thin, attenuate body shivering from the sudden cold.
 
 
 
-“I’m going back to bed. It’th too, too early, it’th a thin to be awake at this hourth. “ Sehun mumbled disapprovingly, taking a moment to chide his brother’s recent lack of sleep before he disappeared into the hallway and up the stairs, escaping into his room situated right next to Joonmyeon’s, his wish to sleep quite obvious.
 
Cautiously approaching the couch, it puzzled him greatly as to why there were two untouched teas fuming, a timid, peculiar scent of orange and cinnamon permeating the air, scent so succulent and deceptively ethereal, accompanied by a faint, albeit sharp whiff of mint flaunting in the background. Mint? Sehun loathed the taste of it ever since he was a child. The only reason why they even had a package of dry mint leaves in the kitchen was because of—
 
-“Hi.”
 
 
 Startled in his tracks, Joonmyeon dared not to turn around, enraptured by the impeccably honed, emollient tone breaking through the idle, spacious room, feet clad in socks softly tapping down the lush carpet, a young boy of distinct and sharp face with feline eyes filled with dwindling worry approaching him, his dark tresses that were barely combed that morning drearily falling down his face.
 
-“Sehun let me in.” He reasoned before Joonmyeon’s mouth could part to utter the question, leaving the older one wordless. So that explained the tea.
 
Joonmyeon, now slowly coming back to reality, languidly moved towards the couch, motioning for Jongdae to sit down wherever he liked, seeing as the boy ensued to sit wherever the older one chose, an usual choice that now seemed rather out of place.
 
-“It’s what, seven-“
-“Seven thirty-two.” Cut in Jongdae, the two slumping against the back of the couch, their bodies engulfed by the softness the said furniture provided as both fell silent, Joonmyeon’s mouth cringing when he felt the other shift, unknown to him whether he was approaching or distancing himself.
 
-“Why are you here, and so early to top it all off?” Joonmyeon’s eloquent voice titillated Jongdae’s thoughts, making the younger one faintly smile form the sheer sensation of the soft whisper.
 
 
 
-“To say goodbye.” He spoke decadently, words sounding dissonant as they left the confinement of his chest. “We are slowly starting to move our things, by the next month we should be done. I wanted to say a proper goodbye before it becomes chaotic. And I…I brought something that I’d like you to take back. I’m afraid I’ll lose it somewhere along the way and I doubt that’s… I wouldn’t like that to happen, I’d rather you have it back.”
 
Joonmyeon’s eyes fluttered closed and he let out a soft sigh, relaxing against the pillows, completely oblivious to the fact that a pair of cold fingers sneakily tried to find their way into his hand limply resting by his side, aforementioned gray whale keychain snugly fitting to the plane of his palm. As something velvety brushed his skin, older one’s apprehensive eyes shot suddenly open, the trinket almost falling on the floor from the abrupt motion his hand exuded, fingers remembering the shape and texture of the little animal. He picked it up, his bony fingers holding it in front of his face as the little whale stared merrily back at him, the cute plush toy a gift he bought on a past occasion for the other, learning he had a liking for the whales.
 
 
 
-“It’s a gift; you never return the gifts.” He coldly berated Jongdae, tone much contrasting the warmth of the room. To see that little trinket being returned, being given back, it hurt him to think it was no longer desirable. That little affection he stored in it, to think it was rejected… He was quickly starting to grow very exacerbated.
 
-“I don’t want to lose it, I told you so. It’s small and the chain can be easily broken—“
 
-“Why do you lie?” Cut him Joonmyeon, nothing on his countenance showing the turmoil of anger in his innermost parts as he leaned forwards to grab his tea, feeling a burning sensation of other’s eyes on himself, as if drilling holes through his flesh with a steady, unwavering gaze.
 
-“I didn’t lie.”
 
Joonmyeon shot him a questioning look from the corner of his eye as he leaned back, approaching the cup with steaming liquid to his parted, pursed lips that blew cold air to soothe the surfacing layer of drink before sipping it, about to taste the mellow flavor of cinnamon and orange  together in tandem.
 
-“I just want you to remember me.” The straightforwardness of the words lacking amusement, devoid of all that was unnecessary to provide the message barren of any other meaning, made Joonmyeon cough and spill his tea, the burning sensation over his leg inessential compared to the shock suddenly evident in his eyes. He didn't even notice it himself until Jongdae pried the searing cup away from his clutching grasp, his moves swift and nimble, yet careful none the less, that he held the cup as if it were his dear life that depended on it. He watched them, those long, ivory digits so aesthetic and refined in beauty, balling into a tight fist as they grabbed the black sleeve of Jongdae's sweater and dabbed at the wet blotch over his thigh, missing the hitched gasp escaping past those rosy, dulcet lips in a daring play of touches, Jongdae unaware of the fact how close his elbow was to brushing of Joonmyeon's most intimate of parts. Astonished at the bold action, for he never had anyone rub his thigh, no matter what the cause, Joonmyeon just lightly coughed, a timid sound that was on the verge of pleading in its bashfulness. It would be hard to explain if anyone saw them, thus he'd rather have it without the other touching him there, no matter how ridiculous the reason was, lest he end up retelling the event from the start to state their innocence.
 
-"That is enough; it won't get any drier if you continue dabbing at it."
 

Jongdae wordlessly complied with the request, his hand swiftly like a quivering shadow returning to his side where it rested, cunning eyes aimlessly searching the room with intention of forgetting the moment he, too, found slightly unnerving.
 

-"Just take it, okay? I'm not tossing it away or anything, simply... I'd like to be remembered as the person who you bought it for. Do I ask for much?"
Joonmyeon thought Jongdae had already forgotten about the little pendant and was rather agitated when the matter was brought up again, looking for the plush whale that managed to slip from his grasp and fall onto the floor, cradled by their socked feet.
 

-"I don't want it back. I bought it for you and that's why it's yours and yours own. There are many things that I can remember you with if you put it that way, so take the keychain and stop spluttering nonsense." Joonmyeon curtly replied, his stoic appearance shattered for the fleetest of moments as he bent down to grab the fallen pendant, caught still in his pose when his name was uttered by other's thin, velvety lips, the sound of it so lush and mellow, every honey-coated syllable melting on his tongue as Jongdae lightly grasped his sleeve, the feel of his clutched fingers making Joonmyeon cry painfully quiet with yearning.
-"Joonmyeon... Will you miss me?" The question was so honest it was heart-wrenching in truth, so innocent and naive it made the older one's eyes flutter closed, grief so substantial, so strong filling his chest that left him silently gasping for air, his ivory fingers reaching out to grab the little keychain tightly.
 

More than you think, he wished to say, but refrained from doing so.
 

-"What kind of a friend would I be if I said no?" He asked as he passed over the cute gray whale to the younger one, noting how, for a single blink of an eye, those eyes appeared regretful and were marred with tiniest hint of woe, yet the sight was gone from the depth of theirs before Joonmyeon could even make out the exact appearance.
What?, he wished to ask, unnerved by the memory of the sadness those eyes exuded. There was just so much he wished to utter, so many delicate observations he managed to notice over the course of their friendship that stirred him alive whenever he would remember them, he wished to speak of so many things that made him stutter and go crazy from the affection he could not contain docile, and yet... He was afraid to, so, so afraid.
 

I love the way your lips thin when you smile, the way they quirk up into a grin. I love the glimmer of your eyes and the way they reflect the sunlight, and your gentle touch on my shoulder, your bony fingers that grip mine, I love all of it. I love your crisp, awkward laugh and the soothing note to your voice. I love it when you sing, whether for me or for someone else, and I feel like I could die listening to the sound of it without any regrets left.
 
So much of it Joonmyeon left unsaid, little habits of Jongdae's he had taken notice of and found them endearing, just how now he tried to tuck his hair behind his left ear, his fingers anxiously treading the dark silken strands and placing them back into orderly shape. It was always the left ear, without any exclusion, and it was something that Joonmyeon noticed the younger does a lot when nervous or expecting and he couldn't put a finger on the reason why he did right there. Was he bothered by something?
 
-"Are you nervous?" He finally asked, feeling the tension in the room rise noticeably fast.
-"No... Why?" Came the answer, questioning in nature and carefully posed.
-"You always tuck hair behind your left ear when you're nervous or expect something to happen, that's why. I thought that, perhaps, I made you uncomfortable by doing something."
Jongdae wordlessly took in the information, unknown to his mind just how much Joonmyeon knew about him and his unusual habits, dropping the hand to his side abruptly in response. He gave out a soft laugh, the tone of it strangled and a bit awkward, most childish of all blushes creeping up his flawless skin and bringing color to his otherwise bloodless face.

-“I don’t know what you are talking about.” He softly played with the keychain, eyes looking everywhere but at Joonmyeon.

-“How long will you stay in Beijing?” Joonmyeon tried to ease the atmosphere by changing the topic.

-“2 years at least. I don’t know if I’ll go to college there or come back here, but 2 years are guaranteed. I already started taking lessons so I should at least be able to greet people when I get there, but truth to tell you, the prime excitement died down long ago. All I am now is afraid. Leaving my friends here, all that I had for the past seventeen years, it scares me, you know? Scares me to abandon all I love.”

-“People won’t forget about you in 2 years, don’t be stupid.” Joonmyeon tried to laugh the matter off, but failed at it miserably, seeing other’s face growing even more sullen at the spoken words.

-“You won’t, right?” He was asked, cunning, sharp eyes staring at him with such intensity, so much hidden pleading woven into them with every word they followed, that they left Joonmyeon utterly wordless. Even pitiful, even in his most miserable state, Jongdae was breathtakingly beautiful.

-“Never.” Never will I allow myself that.
-“Thank you.” Fool, what are you thanking for?

-“Drink your tea before it cools, you like it warm, right?”

-“It smells nice, really nice. Much better than the teabags of mint I have at home.”

-“When it’s just pure, dry mint leaves. They were just plucked and left on sun to dry before being packaged into the box. Of course the tea from it will taste better than the one previously treated in factories.”

Jongdae outstretched his arm, gently wrapping his fingers around the arm of the cup before bringing it to his lips, the enthralling, redolent scent of mint with tiniest specks of crispiness and freshness to it tingled his senses bashfully, making him close his eyes complacently as he inhaled the wafting smell. Nice, he thought, it smells perfect.

He was no tea expert, but he knew how to appreciate the plethora of tastes mint provided – fresh and biting, yet soothing and peculiar at the same time. 

-“Do you want to eat breakfast with me? I can make you something if you want.”

Looking up from where he sat, that earnest, yet slightly prostrate smile Jongdae let out made Joonmyeon’s heart clench painfully tight at the sight of abandon on his face.

-“I’ll take that as a yes then.”

-“But just toast. I am not particularly hungry.”

-“Milk?”
-“Sure.”

Trudging slowly behind Joonmyeon, Jongdae still clenched onto the little pendant in his hand, the little whale now a painful reminder of their goodbye. It had been a week ago that he told Joonmyeon that he is about to move soon, and whether or not the other perceived it so, in Jongdae’s eyes, Joonmyeon was not even least bit crushed by the news. He seemed almost insouciant in a way one could be around such matter, and truth to tell, it made the goodbye even harder to bear.

Am I the only one that will miss this friendship so much? Am I the only one that tears up when thinking of being so far away? I wish you would turn around and tell me not to leave, tell me you need me, need me next to you, just like I need you. Tell me I cannot leave you alone, that I cannot abandon you. I wish to tell you I love you. Would you turn around and beg me not to leave then? If I told you how impeccable you are, how your smile makes butterflies in my stomach flutter, would you welcome me into your arms? Would you tell me I’m all you need?

I wish I could hear you say ‘I love you’.

-“Hey, Jongdae, when you move, don’t forget about me, okay? I’ll feel really bad if you don’t recognize me when you come back.”

Come back? Does that mean you will wait for me? You will look for me every day until you find me? Is that what you are saying? Kim Joonmyeon, you kill me with every incessant breath of yours.

-“Only if you don’t forget about me.”

Because if you do, I don’t think my heart would be able to live any longer. To be forgotten by you, the person I so shamelessly love, that would be the same like dying.

-“Impossible.”

I hope. I hope that you, the person I am enraptured with, will stay by my side forever. Never erase the memories of me, don’t kill me in your heart. I don’t care anymore whether you stay as my friend or become my lover, all I need is your voice and your tender touch to make me live. Make me breathe Kim Joonmyeon, make me alive.

First love is painful. To say goodbye to it hurts more than one could imagine, yet the memories full of felicity make the wounds heal faster and the transition in life easier, but it is never simple to say ‘goodbye’.
 

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A/N: Hello, carpe here. I wish to say thank you for the comments and support so far ^^ I am glad people like it.
I don't have much to say except for... Kim Jong Kook and his 'You Should Be Happy' were the reason this ended up so angsty xD

Story is finally getting more interesting with Jongdae leaving soon! I hope you will stay with it until the end ^^
Until next update, goodbye ~