wow, i really at writing. pls excuse this piece of . lmao. 

Kyungsoo examines himself for the nth time in front of the mirror, eyes misty from the lack of sleep from the night before and the bags under his eyes are still prominent, barely concealed by the thin layer of makeup applied on his face. He fixes the tie around his neck, the tightness ostensibly choking him. He musters a small smile on his face but it leaves just as soon as it appears.

“Kyungsoo?”

He peels his eyes from the mirror to see Baekhyun enter the room, clad in pristine black suite and brown hair swept neatly at the side. Baekhyun gives him a small smile and walks to his side, “You ready for your big day?”

Kyungsoo looks down at his polished shoes and swallows the lump that’s been prominently stuck on his throat the moment he opened his eyes this morning. Baekhyun seems to have understood and presses a firm hand on his shoulder.

“You know, you can still back out.” Kyungsoo looks up to his friend in sheer surprise, but Baekhyun’s eyes glimmer with nothing but conviction. “I don’t want you to regret anything, Kyungsoo. You’re my best friend and I don’t want you to suffer the consequences of entering into this kind of matter if you’re not a hundred percent sure and willing into this.”

Kyungsoo goes back to staring at the floor, feeling the ever familiar pricking of tears gathering in his eyes. There’s the tell-tale ache in his chest, doubling as he remembers he’s running out of time. There are only a few grains of sand left in the glass.

“But he didn’t come.” Kyungsoo almost breaks into a sob but wills to get a hold of himself. He can’t risk a single tear for this day, not on the very day he’s supposed to be joyous.

Baekhyun stares as his best friend’s hands curl into fists, body shaking with pent up frustrations and disappointments. He gathers the shaking boy in his arms and opts on hugging him tightly to calm him down.

“But you always know you can run after him, right?”

Baekhyun feels the tight grasp on his coat and his heart breaks. He doesn’t want to see his best friend like this.

“I think he had walked out of my life long ago.”

Jongin stares at the three unopened letters at the top of his coffee table. It had been a week since the delivery of the latest one and about a month or two since he received the first two. His hands itch to reach and open them, but his eyes darts on the calendar across the room and his heart sinks at the bottom of his stomach. Oh how he dreads this day. He throws his head back at the couch and slings his arm over his eyes, darkness enveloping his vision. There are no longer tears tracking down his cheeks, long gone with the crying session he had the previous nights. But the pain in his heart stays (and he thinks it’ll never go away) and all Jongin wants to do now is curl up into a ball and wish everything to disappear, wish that he could forget all the hurt, the feelings, the memories, the love they shared—Jongin jerks from the couch and heads to the kitchen to pull another bottle of Campari from the fridge. He drowns himself in consecutive shots of alcohol and hopes the alcohol can make him forget, forget the gnawing pain in his chest, forget the ache feeding on every bone of his body, forget that he’s about to lose the only man he loves—in the hands of another man.

Nine shots of Campari later, Jongin staggers back to his living room and knocks his knee against the coffee table. With his mind under the strong influence of alcohol, he loses his sense of control and haphazardly snatches one of the letters from the table.

The letter dates back on 19th of July. Jongin tears the envelope open and stares at the three-sentenced letter written neatly across the white sheet of paper.

I see you’re back in town. Can we meet at the usual café? I have something to tell you.

Jongin need not to know who the sender was. How can he simply forget this penmanship when he spent years and years together with the person? But his irrational side gets the best of him and he crumples the letter in his hand, tossing it later across the room. Jongin feels the burning in his eyes but he fights the tears from falling and chooses to take a swig on the bottle by his hand. The alcohol burns his throat and he stumbles a few steps back until he trips over the carpet, the back of his head meeting the wall with a loud thump.

The bottle breaks into numerous shards, some scattered on the floor and some pierced on Jongin’s flesh. The liquid splattered on the floor red as the gushing blood from his skin. Jongin finds himself laughing bitterly.

They never had an official breakup. Jongin guessed it was a mutual feeling when they started falling apart. It all started when they pursued different careers in different universities. At first they managed to work it out with frequent calls and weekend dates but when Jongin had to move to America to take his Julliard’s scholarship, that’s when their relationship started to run downhill. Being on a scholarship, Jongin was forced to focus on his studies, limiting his chances to contact Kyungsoo who’s