“Chanyeol.”

He won’t stop walking away from me. He has such long strides that I have to run to keep up with him.

“Chanyeol.”

He’s walking further and further away, and I get the uncomfortable feeling that he isn’t the only person who is losing someone.

“Chanyeol. Wait!”

He spins around, eats up the space between us with those gigantic steps of his, and wraps me in his arms. My face is against his chest, and I can hear his heart beating two times faster than his normal heart rate. His arms are quivering. I raise my head, but his hand comes and my hair.

“Hold on,” he whispers, his voice as shaky as my legs. We’re both unstable and ready to fall, yet we are each other’s security. “Just. Just let me hold on to you for a bit.”

And I do, even though it hurts to know that he isn’t holding me because he wants me, but because he was refused the right to want someone else. Slowly, my hands find his back, and I hug him close to me, too, until I can feel and hear our heartbeats racing together. A moment has never felt so wrong and so right all at once.

He pushes himself away from me and gives me room to breathe. I don’t know why, but I expected tears. I expected anger, or sadness, anything but a smile on his face when he grips my shoulders and says, “Thanks.”

With every bit of his heart that he has left, he’s holding it all in. I grab his arm before he can walk away again.

“Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol, it’s okay. It’s fine if you aren’t okay. Chanyeol, can you hear me? Do you hear your name the way I hear my name when you say it? Are you there? Are you all there, Chanyeol, or are you somewhere else again, pretending to be all there, pretending to be somebody who is happy because that’s what everybody expects of you?

I’m not wise with words of consolation. So I do what I do best. I hit him.

“Hey,” I say in an admonishing tone, even if I want to burst into tears for his sake. “What are you doing? I helped you, so you have to give me a better hug. You owe me.” I gently tap his back and urge him to hug me again, and with a grin, he leans into my embrace and gives in.

And once more, he surprises me. I see another side of Chanyeol. He isn’t the tall, gangly, joyous young man I met. That part of him is tucked away and hidden by the little boy in my arms, the little boy who wants nothing but a guarantee. A guarantee that no matter how many times a person gets hurt, there’s always someone out there who will mend the scars.

“You’re amazing, Chanyeol,” I murmur. His body is so warm that I start feeling uncomfortably hot, but I continue to hug him. “You’re funny. And you’ve got nice hair. Before you cut it, anyway,” I chuckle. “And you’re a nice guy for buying me smoothies and taking me to Winter Ball. And for making sure that I’m making decisions with a clear head. You’re smart. And you’re also stupid,” I hug him tighter, “And you’re really, really wonderful, okay? You’re wonderful.” I hold his face in my hands. I feel like a mother, soothing him like this. His eyes are still dry, but they carry so much affliction. “You’re great.”

“No, Junah,” he whispers, and I’m shivering when I shouldn’t be. “You are.” He looks over my shoulder. “I’m going to go. I’ll see you.” He rips himself away from me. I stagger forward, now realizing how intimate and close we had been and how he had made me feel like I was finally complete.

As he leaves, I shout, “It can be easy, Chanyeol. It can be easy.”

He raises his hand, waves, and then he’s gone.

-----

I don’t even need to call Nam to ask him what happened. Within the next ten minutes, he’s calling me. Once I’ve arrived at my room, I answer his call and start the conversation by saying, “Great timing you called, because for your information, I just saw Seya run into the arms of another guy right after what I assume was her meeting with you. Not sure if you wanted to hear that, but I figured everybody’s coming clean tonight, so no holding back.”

A deep, shaky sigh leaves his lips. “Uh, yeah. I kn