Another update, and this time it didn't take a month! This chapter was a little rushed, but I wanted to post before Pride started here in Seoul, because I knew I wouldn't have time to post once it started.

Also thank you thank you thank you for all the wonderful coments and views and subscriptions. I never thought I'd have 100 people wanting to read one of my stories. You're all beautiful T-T

The rain that fell that warm spring evening left a haze that nestled quietly between buildings and bodies a like. It soaked Ji to the core, unable to shake it from his bones as he headed up the stairs to Seunghyun’s dorm. Or maybe it wasn’t the rain, but the incessant hum of butterfly wings that pained his stomach that he couldn’t rid himself of. He knocked on the familiar oak door to only be greeted by the smile he had already found himself growing too attached to.

“Hey. Come in, I already have everything set up.”

He followed him into the living room, which was surprisingly tidy for Seunghyun, two chairs and an old paint-caked easel set in the cool light that fell through the balcony window.

“This is going to take a while, so if you want to take a break or anything just let me know.” Ji absently nodded as he nervously sat down. 

“So just sit like I did before?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds excruciatingly boring. Sorry.” Seunghyun replied with an apologetic smile as he sat down and readied his palette.

Time felt as though it came to a halt as they sat in silence. Seunghyun’s strong gaze traveled over Jiyong’s features then back to the canvas without a word, leaving Jiyong with little to occupy himself from his own thoughts, most coming to reside on the other quiet young man.

How had Seunghyun so seamlessly carved himself a place in his life, leaving him with basket of wavering nerves, a thumping against his ribs, and unformed words caught in his throat?

He felt every brick and stone around him crumble and chip away with every gaze from the boy’s kohl eyes, and he hated him for it. How could he just turn everything in Jiyong’s apathetic existence on it’s head and not even realize it? How could he think every warm look, every wry smile, every gentle touch would not resonate, and burn through flesh and bone and blood, leaving dark smoldering embers to reside deep in his chest.  

“Mind if we take a break?” Seunghyun’s voice broke through his darkening inner monologue.

“Yeah, sure.”

He finally looked to the boy again to see a strained expression on his face as he pulled away from the canvas. He must have seen the masked concern behind Jiyong’s eyes because he responded before he had the chance to ask.

“Bad knuckles.” Seunghyun crookedly smiled as he twisted his wrist.

“Let me see your rings.” jiyong spoke, holding out his hands. Seunghyun gave him a sideways glance but complied nontheless.

“These probably don’t help. They have to weigh ten pounds.” Ji spoke as he looked over the worn pieces of silver and pewter.

“They prevent callouses from the brushes.” Seunghyun mildly protested, but Jiyong simply rolled his eyes.

Before he even realized it himself, he had set the rings aside and took Seunghyun’s large hands in his. He ran his own thin fingers steadily along tendon and bone, kneading the flesh of Seunghyun’s palm. Warmth slowly began to return to Seunghyun’s hands under the pressure of Ji’s own. His eyes were closed, neck craning forward, slightly moving in time with Jiyong’s rhythm. Jiyong stared at Seunghyun for a long while, sullen gaze committing to memory the serenity upon his face. But each passing moment his resolve wavered more, until he finally had to stop in fear of what he might do next.

“Better?” He tried his best to nonchalantly smile as he forced himself to release those strong calloused palms.

“Yeah. Thank you.” Seunghyun returned with a sleepy smile.

“Back to painting?”

“Oh yeah, but first…” his mumbled thoughts trailed off as he got up and went to his closet and quickly grabbed an article from within. “Would you mind wearing this? It’ll have a nice reflecting light.”

He handed Jiyong his leather jacket. The same which he wore the night of Youngbae’s party, and almost every encounter there since.

“Yeah, sure.”

Jiyong slipped on the slightly too big jacket, which hung slightly off to his left side. His lungs were now filled with that asive cloven wood scent that was indisputably Seunghyun. 

“Great, good.” Seunghyun mumbled, more too himself than anything and loaded up his brush to begin again.

Jiyong could think of little else as he inhaled the intoxicating mix of cologne and seunghyun that clung to the well worn jacket. 

“Jiyong?” His thoughts were broken again by that same smooth baritone that now seemed to constantly echo within his chest.

His eyes met Seunghyun’s and he began to speak.

“Remember the other night on the balcony?” He spoke between gazes from the canvas.

Of course he did. He remembered every instant he was with the boy.

“When we were talking about the stars? You said you wished on them.”

Wishing was all he seemed to do lately.

“Think about that wish. I want to see it in your eyes again.”

The wish was you. It was you, you idiot. If you looked into his eyes all you would see is the boy with the mop-top of mint, with the unreal dimples to match his mischievous smile. The boy who cared too much for a complete stranger. The boy who could never leave well enough alone. The boy who’s warm kohl eyes bore deep into him, cracking into the very foundation on which he stood. The boy who made him wish for things he knew he could never have.

When his eyes eventually met Seunghyun’s it was his final undoing. A foreign sting began to build behind his eyes, the wings of his hummingbird heart beat so furiously it felt as if it were to break through his chest at any moment.

Seunghyun opened his mouth to speak, but Jiyong knew he couldn’t stand to feel that voice resonate within him any stronger.

“I’m sorry.” And with nothing else, he left, with nothing but the evening haze to meet him.