Afternoons come with the scent of deciduous trees and the heavy weight of language textbooks in Jongdae’s backpack. He hates the long walk back to the dorm, especially when he’s alone and his knees are just about ready to break. This day, however, the afternoon is a little drier, a little frailer and quieter, with invisible hands ghosting over his shoulders, pulling him back to the dim recesses of his fusty classroom and keeping him there.

Yes. This afternoon is a little different from others.

Within seconds, he comes to a small fork in the university inside road and hobbles his way to the left along with a group of freshmen. This is not the way to Jongdae’s dorm. This is more likely than not the way to his frightened heart.

Jongdae finds himself in front of a huge brown building, with chapped bricks splayed with old russet paint. He heads inside the huge black gate, climbs six flights of stairs and saunters his way towards the door at the end of the steep hallway.

He skips the knocking because he knows the door is open. It’s always been open for him; that’s the way he likes to believe it.

Inside the dorm room, a single bed is pushed at the far left corner of the wall, boxes stacked on its bare cushion and newspaper pages crumpled into small balls to fill the gaps. The bedside table has its drawers open, emptied of its contents save for the dust that lingers in the cracks of the wood. The study table is wiped clean, the glass savouring the sunlight’s reflection from the half-open window.

“You’re just in time.”

Jongdae’s heart flinches automatically at the sound of the familiar voice. The door gives out a light creak as a boy in a red varsity jacket hops into the room, a huge box hugged close to his chest. Jongdae puts a hand on his nape and manages his usual tepid smile –– lips stretching into an unbelievable length, pulling the warmth of the grin to his ears and highlighting the strength of his jaw.

“Thank you for offering to help,” the boy says, brown hair damp in sweat and cheeks milk-white in contrast to his pink lips. “It’s a lot, really, but I’ve managed to get everything done this morning. We basically just need to tape them all up.”

“Sure,” Jongdae mumbles as he pulls off the straps of his backpack from his shoulders and throws it at an empty corner. “Where do we start?”

The boy sets the box in his hands on the floor and takes out a huge roll of packaging tape from inside.

“Scissors?” Jongdae an eyebrow in question.

“Here.” The boy quickly takes out his other hand from inside the box to reveal a blue pair of scissors with star stickers on the ring. His eyes are shining brightly and his smile instantly makes Jongdae look down at his hands, face flushing and fingers fidgeting on his sweaty palms.

“Hey, you okay?”

Jongdae nods, shoulders sagging as he tries to blow out the air stuck in his throat. He knows he’s not okay. He always fails with Junmyeon. It’s one of those unspoken truths.

“So have you given the offer any thought?” Junmyeon asks as he pulls a foot of tape from the ring.

“Not really,” Jongdae answers, clearing his throat. He received an offer to study music in Berkeley last week, a shift he has been praying for all summer. He loves Literature, he loves books, but nothing can compare to the rush of melody through his ears and the way notes strike like a bullet through his heart.

Jongdae has always loved music.

But he loves Junmyeon just a little bit more.

Junmyeon doesn’t know this, and he probably never will.

“Do you think it’s gonna be fun there?” Junmyeon asks as he tugs on a new ring of tape.

“Hm?”

“I mean London. Do you think I made the right decision?”

It was only a month ago when they learned of King’s offer to take Junmyeon in for a complete course. The whole thing will last for approximately three years, and if everything works out well for him, there’s no going back. Junmyeon has always wanted to work and live in another country, so there’s no doubt he’ll work his off to stay there too.

“Well?” Junmyeon asks again, the side of his lips quirking up in thought.

“If it’s really what you want, then it will always be the right decision.”

Junmyeon sighs. “I don’t know. It’s just that, I don’t know anyone there. It’s like I’m in a whole new territory. Here, I have this… this dorm, our friends, mom and dad, I have the comfort of our own language and all this clutter around my room that’s been cramped up in these boxes. I have you.”

Jongdae hates being lead on, but he lets Junmyeon defy all his wants and hates just like he always does. He lets himself believe that Junmyeon’s “I have you” is a rough translation for “I like you too,” and he hates himself for it. Somewhere inside his chaos of a heart, he knows the words are never more than what they really are, but maybe it doesn’t hurt to believe otherwise. Or maybe it does hurt. He’s not sure which is which.

“Did you go see your doctor yet?” Junmyeon suddenly asks.

“Nope. Why should I?”

Junmyeon clicks his tongue with a frown. “You’re so stubborn. How is your throat gonna get better if you continue being like this?”

Jongdae likes being stubborn. It’s the only way he could get Junmyeon to pay attention to him besides getting into a pointless debate over who’s stupider than who. It’s just how they are and how they’ve always been. Lately, however, Jongdae has been overplaying the stubborn card since he no longer has anything up his sleeves. As the days progress, time continues to tick away, and the more he becomes, the more his feelings get in the way.

In truth, moments like this have grown quieter these past few days. Junmyeon is busy with a lot of things and they rarely get the time to talk. Jongdae buries his head in between stacks of textbooks and and barely sees Junmyeon around. It’s weird they have to meet up a day before Junmyeon’s flight to London. It makes everything too overbearing. At least for Jongdae, that is.

“Where do you want me to put this?” Jongdae raises a hand, putting a red bandana wrapped around his bony fingers in full view.

“Where did you get that?” Junmyeon asks, pulling the piece of cloth from Jongdae’s hand.

“Let’s just say it came from a pile of clutter you’ve left inside my room.” Jongdae can’t help but watch the way Junmyeon marvelled at the small piece of garment that has been their symbol of friendship since ten years past. They call it “the lucky one” after winning it from a camping trip back in third grade. It’s the same lucky charm that made Jongdae win his first ever singing competition and the same hanky Junmyeon brought with him when he aced his exams at SNU.

“I can’t take this,” Junmyeon says with a shake of his head.

“Sure you can.” Jongdae smiles as he watches Junmyeon wrap the little red cloth around his head the way Junmyeon always does when he wears it to their archery class. No matter how much he swears he hates Junmyeon, Jongdae knows he’s always bound to love him more. Everything about him, or just the way his face is embellished with the most perfect slopes of bones and skin and the way his eyes are both small and big in the way they close and the way they sparkle when he smiles –– everything Junmyeon is, is close to wonderful. And it’s these little things, these tiny details and perfection that make Jongdae want to go back to never loving him, and never knowing Junmyeon… simply because it hurts.

“Thank you, Jongdae.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes in pretend-disgust. “Please. I’m just getting rid of unnecessary trash.” Jongdae hates himself for always fighting roses with thorns. It’s a sickness he can never cure. Whenever Junmyeon says something great, he throws him a bullet. It’s so like Jongdae to ruin great moments like this, it’s just in his nature.

“No, really. Thank you.”

“Sure,” Jongdae croaks. He fights every limb and muscle in his body to tear through that tiny space and pull Junmyeon in his arms. He’s scared. There are just so many what if’s, so many possibilities, both good and bad, and he doesn’t know which side he’s on. He’ll never know his chances because of his stupid fear.

“Well I guess we’ve taped up everything now,” Junmyeon sighs as he glances at the pile of boxes around the room. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” Jongdae replies flatly.

“Oh. Well, what do you want to do then? I don’t have anything lined up the entire night,” Junmyeon says as he rests his back against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest.

“You should get some sleep. You have a flight to catch tomorrow morning.” Jongdae pulls himself up from the floor and wipes the back of his pants with his hands.

“Exactly. I’m leaving tomorrow. I want to enjoy my last night in Seoul.”

Jongdae is not good with goodbyes. He’s so good at making people laugh that it’s hard for him to keep a straight face and tell someone exactly how he feels. He doubts anyone would take him seriously with his troll of a reputation. It’s hard being Kim Jongdae sometimes.

“Well?”

Don’t go is what Jongdae wanted to say, “Rest well,” is what comes out of his lips as he heads towards the door. He pulls his hoodie over his head, attempting to hide the misery etched all over his face.

“Hey,” Junmyeon calls as he takes Jongdae by the hand. “What’s the rush?”

Jongdae looks at him lifelessly, all the colors seemingly draining out of his face as their eyes meet. He hates how every time he looks at Junmyeon, he’s always bound to say yes, he’s always set to give in. “I have to study. I have an exam tomorrow.”

“Please stay?” Junmyeon begs, and Jongdae hates him –– hates him with every fiber of his being enough to stab a knife through the skin and muscles of Junmyeon’s chest, tear open his heart and search for all the answers he’s always been afraid to find. Junmyeon’s grip is tight around Jongdae’s hand, palms warm and comforting as they’ve always been.

But why does Jongdae feel like he cannot breathe? His “okay” comes out feeble and delicate, his lungs seemingly thinning out against his ribs with every breath.

Junmyeon’s hand loosens around Jongdae’s fingers and they instantly burn in the cold.

Jongdae watches as Junmyeon takes out two cups of instant ramyun from one of the bags in the corner of the room and sets them on the abandoned table near the kitchen. He pulls open the lids and tears open the packets of seasoning before walking towards an almost empty water dispenser at the counter. White mist flies above his nose with every press of the steaming water.

The room is painted with every shade of leaving now that each space is void of its usual happy color. The posters have been torn off the wall and the frames have been taken off, tapes and screws wounding the light blue wallpaper. Junmyeon takes a seat and waves at Jongdae to join him at the table.

Jongdae does without second thought.

“Like old times,” Junmyeon says with a smile that sends Jongdae off an invisible cliff.

Back in high school, Jongdae would go to Junmyeon’s house a week before exams and they would spend nights studying until their necks were sore and their eyes were closing on their own. One night, Junmyeon complained about not having food in the fridge and Jongdae had to run to a nearby convenience store and buy two cups of ramyun to fill their growling stomachs. When Jongdae came back, Junmyeon was smiling from ear to ear and he held him so tight in his arms, Jongdae could almost feel his heart beating through his shirt.

“What am I gonna do without you, Kim Jongdae?” Junmyeon mumbled through the collar of Jongdae’s uniform.

Jongdae snorted as he fought to free himself from Junmyeon’s embrace. “It’s just ramyun, you idiot. You can buy this on your own.”

That night, Jongdae realized he’s always loved Junmyeon a little more than he should.

Junmyeon coughs as he blows the steam off the top of his ramyun cup. “Why are you so quiet?” he asks.

The chair gives out a light squeak as Jongdae tries to inch closer to the table. It takes him a few seconds to answer, “I told you I’m not hungry.”

“Fine, then. I’m eating everything,” Jumyeon mumbles through the noodles in his mouth as he grabs Jongdae’s cup.

“Pig,” Jongdae mutters under his breath.

Junmyeon smiles through crinkling eyes and Jongdae just wants to pull off the bandana from Junmyeon’s head and splat it on his face.

“Why are you so cranky?” Junmyeon’s lips are turning red with every sip of the ramyun soup and his face is flush from the steam.

“It’s… just not a good day,” Jongdae says with a sigh.

“Can I make it better?”

“I doubt.”

Junmyeon frowns and Jongdae can feel his heart turning into little bread crumbs.

In ten minutes, Junmyeon manages to gobble up the rest of the ramyun in Jongdae’s cup, base tilted towards the ceiling until the last drop fell on his tongue. “Jongdae,” Junmyeon starts as he stares at the empty cup in front of him.

“Hm?” Jongdae hums.

“I want to come back here after three years.”

Jongdae’s heart lurches. “Why?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Jongdae mumbles. “You’ve always wanted to stay in London.”

“I do, but I don’t know if I could bear it there alone.”

Lies, Jongdae says in his head. He knows Junmyeon is holding something in by the way he’s biting on his lips and the way his eyes are blinking every second. It’s almost funny how predictable and innocent Junmyeon is sometimes. “Why, Junmyeon?” Jongdae asks again, this time his question strikes through like a swift and hard-hitting arrow, urging the truth out of Junmyeon’s mouth.

Junmyeon closes his eyes and lets his hands fall off the table. “I want to come back here and be with you.”

The passage of air through Jongdae’s lungs gets clogged by the rush of nerves in his veins. His arms are shivering as Junmyeon slowly lifts a hand back onto the table and inches his fingers towards his hand.

“I’ve always liked you, Jongdae, and I know you’ll probably hit me in the face in a few seconds, but I can’t leave without letting you know,” Junmyeon clears his throat uneasily. “I’m a er when it comes to hiding things. I can’t even lie to you in the face.”

Jongdae’s eyes round up to huge balls as his whole face pales out. “You’re crazy,” is the first thing he says.

“Yeah, I’ve figured that a long time ago,” Junmyeon remarks with a scratch of his head.

“I like you too,” Jongdae squeaks from across the table and Junmyeon quickly pulls his head up to meet his gaze. “Since… I don’t know, high school?”

Junmyeon laughs. “This is both funny and awkward.”

“I know,” Jongdae says as he looks down at their hands that are locked in a tight hold. “But I still like you and it .”

Junmyeon just smiles from the other side of the table as he Jongdae’s hand with his thumb.

“What if I’m gone after three years? What if I need to go someplace else?”

Junmyeon’s eyes sparkle from the light above them. “I’ll come find you.”

“Well, that’s very creepy,” Jongdae replies with a laugh, despite the heaviness in his heart. Everything seems a little harder now that he’s about to be separated from a love that hasn’t even started yet.

“Thanks for keeping me company tonight,” Junmyeon says, his eyes looking slightly dejected.

It takes every bit of Jongdae to pull himself up on his two feet and head towards the door. “Have a safe flight tomorrow,” he says as he reaches for his sneakers near the door. There are so many things running through his head. You are the biggest fool in the world, Kim Jongdae!!! Why did you only know this now, ugh. How are you supposed to live through the next three years knowing that you let the love of your life go??  He almost stumbles his way out of the door and back into the steep hallway of Junmyeon’s dorm.

“Jongdae,” Junmyeon calls as he pulls him by the shoulder.

Jongdae turns around, mobilizing every muscle in his body to hold himself together as he’s all set to fall apart. Junmyeon didn’t even bother to wear his shoes on, his feet look pale against the cold marbled floor.

“Do you really want me to go?”

Jongdae’s lips perk up into a sincere smile and his cheeks begin to hurt. “I want you to live your dream.” He sinks his teeth into his lips as Junmyeon takes his hand to his face and lets its warmth stay there.

The wind from the hallway is a little cold, but nothing can compare to the ice-like grief that is beginning to drown every grain of Jongdae’s heart. He hates himself for not holding Junmyeon back, but he hates himself more for taking that final step to close that little world that used to separate them both. He hates how he let Junmyeon cup his face in his hands and set the softness of his lips onto his quivering mouth; how he gripped onto the sleeves of Junmyeon’s shirt and pulled him closer until their faces meshed; how he let Junmyeon lace his arm around his small waist and create whirlwinds in his head; and how he finally told him he loves him in between the breaths of their kisses.

Because just like that, he’s stripped himself of every secret, every truth that he has long prevented Junmyeon to know. Ten years drizzled down to ten seconds. In a single blink.

“I’ll miss you,” Junmyeon whispers, his breath brushing through Jongdae’s cheeks.

Jongdae doesn’t answer, he just sinks his lips into Junmyeon’s mouth one last time and relishes every second of it.

Junmyeon laughs bitterly in between their mouths as he pulls the bandana from his head and ties it around Jongdae’s wrist. “Three years and I will come back for you.”

Jongdae nods and finally finds the strength to walk away. “Goodbye, Junmyeon.”

“Goodbye, Jongdae.”

---

a/n: okay going back to dragonfly now, i'm sarreh.