Author's Note

I'm going to say this now, don't expect too much, it's a bad chapter, crappy, love felt and too emotional for me to really spew out the correct phrases that will accurately depict what i feel right now. This hit too close to home for comfort 

again sorry, i'll try to update soon 

            Love is a dream that you involuntarily follow.

            Love is that dream which you can’t help but to chase.

            Because no matter what others around you say and no matter how much they warn and beg you not to, you can’t help but to fall.

            That’s what love really is, an emotion beyond all logical abilities of comprehension.

            You fall just like freefalling from an airplane. You fall until the harsh tug of the parachute jolts you from reality.

            Or worse…

            Until you hit the ground with a painfully loud, body shattering thud, to gaze at the broken pieces of your heart from above because you know your soul died with the loss of their love.

            Because you rather die than live a life without the love of your life.

            Maybe they died or had some freak accident.

            But more likely they’ve just moved on. Your unbreakable bond, apparently not so unbreakable.

            So much for the love of your life, so much for unconditional love, so much for all that bull when nothing’s external. 

            Maybe you got off easy, unclasping your hooks to the lifesaving parachute. Maybe you limped away, tail between your legs, away at your wounds.

            But at least you know that you’ll move on.

            Or maybe you got lucky; another someone comes stumbling along, to pick up the broken pieces, to help you move on.

            Maybe that another someone is a really great and understanding friend, but more likely they’ve somehow managed to fall in love with your broken self.

            Or so you hope

            Because you really can’t handle another heartbreak.

            Then comes the question of whether you can really move on. Because that loss was really the greatest hurt you think a person can ever experience.

            Something so soul shattering that you wouldn’t even wish it upon your worst enemy.

            Are you even prepared to fall in love again? Especially when that another someone so painfully resembles your lost loved one.

            Whatever happened to morality?

            You know you don’t deserve a second chance at that same love, no one does.

            And that’s not even taking that another someone into consideration.

            The truth was, Junhong could really see him falling for Yongguk. Given that they lived in some alternative universe where he had never met Yongnam.

            Given completely different circumstances.

            Given they were strangers, absolute strangers.

            And of course, given that he wasn’t still in love with Yongnam, Yongguk’s doppelganger.

            He stares at the portrait of their picture perfect relationship for hours on end, not even bothering to get water when his dry throat practically hissed at every inhale of breathe, not even bothering to get food when his stomach lets out a animalistic growl. To be honest, he doesn’t think he’s even touched food since returning home from his date with Yongguk, two days ago, two ing days ago.

            Sluggishly, he drags his jaded body and mind into the kitchen for a glass of water. He feels next to nothing as the water dripped past his scratched throat. He lets out a strangled sigh as a visage pops into the mind.

            The sound of glass shattering reverberates throughout the apartment.

            Not bothering to pick up the shattered pieces or even clean up the spilled water, Junhong rushes back to his beloved photograph. Picking up the framed picture of perfection, he brings the object closer to his eyes. He focuses on the visage of his late beloved. There was no longer any shadow of a doubt in his mind.

            Junhong doesn’t quite know whether it was a good or a bad thing. And to be perfectly honest, Junhong isn’t even sure how he felt about it. He couldn’t pinpoint the surge of emotions that flooded throughout his body as his eyes drank up the appearance of his late lover.

            Was it fear?

            Was it slight disappointment in himself?

            Or was it…

            Border lining hopeful?

            Junhong flicks out a tongue and his chapped bottom-lip nervously, a wave of nausea and a pang of guilt suddenly hitting hard on his spent body. Slamming the framed photo onto his dresser, the bluenette makes a dash for the bathroom.

            Everything was ed up.

            Everything is wrong.

            He clutches at his midnight-blue locks with almost desperate tightness.

            “This isn’t happening…” he whimpers, hunched over a pristine white toilet. His gag reflex kicks in but his stomach gives up nothing of its content, having been denied nutrients for two days, Junhong wasn’t exactly surprised.

            Everything was ed up.

            Everything is wrong.

            Because the visage that popped in absent mind wasn’t one of his deceased lover.

            Because the face that he couldn’t drive out of his mind was Yongguk’s.

            Because Junhong has finally acknowledged the fact that the two were, in fact, two separate entities.

            Because he has come to terms with his own feelings

            He was falling.

            Falling hard for the older male, not on the basis of his uncanning resemblance to Yongnam, but rather on the basis of himself as an entirely separate entity.

            Junhong decides then and there that the emotion he feels the most right now is fear.

            Because he has built his life around his love for Yongnam.

            For him, falling just as hard for another human being was next to heretical. And yet the telltale signs were there.

            Because he guesses that the heart really doesn’t let the mind win.

            Because in the end, he still finds himself freefalling from the sky, clutching his wounded heart with every ounce of strength he has in his body.

            Since when was loving someone this painful?

            Junhong clutches his knees closer to his body, chin resting atop the protruding bone caps as he lets out quiet sobs.

            Shouldn’t he be happy?

            Shouldn’t he be running to Yongguk instead of sulking in his bathroom?

            So why wasn’t he?

            Because he was still attached

                                    Because he was still in love

            Wasn’t time suppose to heal all wounds?

            Why was he stilling feeling like this?

            Maybe he needed more time.

            The thought fails to convince even the most naïve aspects of his mind. For Junhong knows that time doesn’t heal. Time sketches over bleeding wounds with hastily prepped lies disguised as truth. Time acts as the scab over a healing cut. And finally when enough time passes, scar tissue appears and remains forever.

            What’s more troublesome than the mere presence of scars is what they represent, both literally and metaphorically.

            Scar tissue is tough, rough and insensitive, just like a damaged heart attempts to protect itself by building up thick walls of defense.

            To put it simply, time changes people. With the passing of time, scars change form and shrink, never completely going away. It is the stigma of a once shattered heart. Its eternity is terrifying, unwavering in the face of all the weapons time and life have to throw at it.

            New love however, heals.

            Healing.

            That’s exactly what he needs right now. 

            So he stumbles towards his long discarded phone.

            12 missed alerts

            They bring a smile to his visage as a warming sensation spread in his heart and this time, he didn’t fight it. Instead, he let the warmth take him. Because he had already decided he was giving new love a shot.

            And when Junhong makes up his mind, there is no going back.

            The bluenette speedily dials the number that seemed to already be engrave in his muscle memory.

            Ring ring ring

            He swallows, unsure of whether it was nerves or excitement. Fiddling with the hem of his shirt, Junhong waits for the older male to pick up. And when the deep, raspy voice is emitted from his phone, he couldn’t help but to smile. “Hello?”

            “Yongguk? It’s me, Junhong” It felt weird, mumbling the once familiar syllables. The feeling of the words rolling off his tongue was almost foreign. Just for how long did he deny that he was Choi Junhong, the boy that had lost the single most important thing to him?

            Too long.

            “Junhongah~ It’s okay for me to call you that right?”

            “Ah? Oh yes of course hyung” The boy’s eyes widened at the words that seemed to flow off of his tongue.

            “Ooho, I see some progression in our relationship” The older man jokes subtly and Junhong swears there’s something illegal in his laughter. Maybe it’s just a God-given gift, but he has never encountered something more contagious in his life. He cracks a smile for the first time in days. Giggling like some love-struck teenage girl, the analogy just so happened to be only half wrong.

            He was love-struck.

            He had acknowledged that seconds ago.

            So he in a deep breath and prepares his heart for what’s to come.

            “I’m ready” he mumbles.

            For Yongguk, Junhong didn’t need to say anything else, he understood the significance of those few syllables.

            He understood that Junhong was ready to move on.

            For their new beginning.