Warning: some swear/slur words, like 9 times? I apologize beforehand. Blame Hyesung’s character here because his sentences are not sweetly and innocently said most of the time (a swear word is very useful for emphasis!). /slapped/

“You know, recently I made a conclusion.”

His low voice broke the thick silence between the two of them—a pale man, sitting on an armchair facing the balcony, wearing nothing but black boxer and an ed white shirt which was a little too big on his slim body. With a cigarette hanging between his long fingers, white smoke trailing out his mouth as he spoke. He was looking at the starless dark sky through the full length glass panels that separated the balcony from the bedroom, the door slightly opened to let night breeze in and cigarette smoke out.

“About what?” the other man, who was lounging lazily on the bed, asked curiously. He took a drag of his Marlboro before standing up, looking for his pants among the scattered pieces of clothing on the floor and wearing it.

“Fairytales,” the first man answered simply. He was staring at the concealed moon. There was supposed to be a full moon tonight, but the night sky was looking bleak instead. The moon was completely covered by the dark clouds that she couldn’t show her dazzling light.

“You read them?” the taller asked confusedly. He crossed the bedroom floor to stand behind the armchair the pale man was sitting on, joining him at staring at the shyly hidden moon.

“No. What am I? A little girl? Or a ing perhaps?” the slender man on the armchair asked sarcastically. Given that he just had an with the other not even 10 minutes ago, then perhaps yes—he was, in his own harsh words, a ‘’. He laughed mirthlessly at his own statement, still looking outside at the sky and not at his conversation partner.

“Then?” the standing man sighed, waiting patiently for the other to explain. He decided to let the self-depreciating joke, one that was not funny at all, slid. It stung a bit, the snide remark, not because he regretted what they had done—never. But there was some resentment in the other’s melodious voice when he said it, and it saddened him greatly seeing the other being even slightly unhappy. He took another deep drag of his cig to calm himself down, the smoke that the two men blew between their lips mingled in the crisp air.

“My cousin’s daughter asked me to read her some stories in family gathering last time,” the slender man kindly offered an explanation, fondly recalling the memories. He liked children. He had always wanted his own—but here he was, in his mid late-30s, choosing to spend the night with his male best friend instead of with his own pretty girlfriend, a woman who would be available for him just a phone call away.

“So…?” the taller man urged his partner to get to the point, a little confused so as to why the other randomly bringing up the topic.

“Well, I concluded that fairytale authors were the most miserable people in the world,” he stated calmly with a slight satisfied smirk on his thin lips, blowing another puff of smoke.

“Why?” the other frowned and asked, not really getting the direction of which the conversation was heading towards. He propelled the last remnants of smoke out of his lungs and threw his almost finished cigarette on the glass ashtray on the side table.

“Because they wrote about magic, miracles and happy endings. How horrible must their life be to have become so delusional? What the hell is happily ever after anyway? Just a load of ing non-existent bull,” he declared, almost unemotionally in his tone, although the sorrow in his eyes betrayed the calmness. He sighed after the outburst and closed his eyes—there was nothing to see anyway. Even though he wished to see the moon tonight, she stubbornly kept hiding herself, refusing to let her light peeked even for just a little while.

“Kyo…” hoarsely the taller man called the other’s name with his breath hitched in his throat. He couldn’t bear seeing the hurt in those dark orbs, especially because he knew that it was himself who inflicted it. Although he finally understood the meaning behind the other’s seemingly pointless ramblings, he didn’t know how to lessen the pain. Especially when his own heart echoed the ache the other felt just as painfully.

“Congratulations Eric. I haven’t told you that, right?” Hyesung cut him before he could say anything else, finally looking back over his shoulder to face the other man. Yes, his best friend was getting married—he should be happy, but he couldn’t, not tonight. The words went out along with a bitter smile that looked physically difficult to form, spoken with a shaken voice that sounded like it would break anytime soon. The forced smile on his thin lips—Eric hated it.

“Kyo… I…” he started, although he wasn’t sure of what to say. An apology wouldn’t change anything, neither would an explanation. Both were already on the same page since the beginning, when they started leading this double life—an agreement that any romance between them would have to be hidden behind the scene, in their most private quarters, away from all the prying eyes. They agreed on the clause, they knew that this would eventually come—the day when they finally would have to move on with their own separate lives, building their own little perfect families. They had been dragging the dreaded day for a bit too long now, prolonging the life of this cursed love—but their days together had always been numbered, a relationship akin to a terminally ill patient lying on deathbed, waiting for the grim reaper to finally take their last breath away with his lethal scythe.

And they were never in a mutually exclusive relationship and they never would be in one—no matter how hard and fast their hearts were beating on