Hello! Finally an update! If it's not obvious yet... Yes, I've been lazy, but it's my ultimate bias birthday and one-half of my favorite OTP so I want to post something at least~ This is NOT angst. Yes, I finally break the angsty cycle of my oneshot collection. Yay me. I mean, I can't possibly write a sad ending for Eric's birthday right? So have some happy ending, and cheesy words that make your toes curl~

Here I am again.

Once again, standing nervously in front of his apartment unit’s door like a fool. My right hand is hovering over his doorbell, my index finger trembling a few centimeters away, itching to press it. I didn’t need to ring his bell the last time I came, because I know his pass code—that is, if he hasn’t changed it. Then again, he probably has not—he has moved to live in different places over the years, but he has always used the same code over and over again. There’s never a certainty in our whirlwind relationship, on and off and on and off again like we are right now—sometimes we separate for a few days, sometimes weeks, sometimes months, heck even years. But throughout all those times, he has always kept his pass code the same—a rare constancy in his mostly unpredictable nature. Sometimes I wonder about it, because for sure he knows that I know that code by heart—why has he never bothered to change it?

I am still standing, rooted at the same spot. I know he’s inside, although I don’t know if he will open the door for me. This has happened for too many times, more than I could count in my memory—after all 16 years is not a short time, although somehow it feels like the time has passed by in a blink of an eye. I don’t get why I always end up standing here—the time, the building and the door has changed—but it’s always his door, it’s always about us.

No, there is no ‘us’ anymore—he was the one who said it a few months ago, so cruelly. There is just Eric. There is just Hyesung. There is no ‘Eric and Hyesung’ put together. We can still be ‘us’ in Shinhwa, and we will forever, he explained—but along with the others, six and not two. I know exactly what he thinks about our relationship—that there’s no future for us, that we are wasting our time being together. Yes, I’m perfectly aware of it all and I completely understand his point of view.

But I’m not so ignorant not to notice that his hands shook every single time he said his goodbyes.

Does he really think that I don’t know the reason for his puffy eyes the next morning after we break-up? Because I know there would be a wet pillow somewhere in his house, drenched in tears. Yet, I have always applauded him inside my heart for always being able to put a strong front—I know how hard it is, because I have always felt the same, slowly dying inside when he is not mine.

I can’t bear it anymore—and that’s why I’m here again, standing quietly in front of his door.

Because I miss his smile and his laugh, and I miss his scent and his touch, his hugs and kisses.

The days without group schedules are the loneliest. I have always been the happiest when we are together as a whole group. Of course, I love being with the other members as well, they are my brothers and best buddies after all, but my love for him has always been a different kind—a special one. And so I keep the reason of my delight during our comeback time as a secret—because even though the two of us were not always ‘together’ around those times, I still could see him almost every day, and seeing him healthy and smiling has always been the source of most of my joy. I pity myself sometimes, because my happiness has to depend on someone else—moreover, someone who has managed to crush my heart so many times in the past.

But here I am, still desperately trying to get him back in my arms.

I’ll always take him back, if only he’d always have me back.

Taking a deep breath, I finally gain the courage to press the door bell—I hope he’s ready for it. He finally opens the door after two full minutes—yes, I counted. He stands in front of the half-opened door nervously, avoiding my probing eyes—he knows why I’m here without even asking.

“Can I come in?” I start our confrontation in the same way I’ve always done in the past.

He his lips, hesitant to answer—he’s probably trying to think for a reason to reject me without hurting my feelings.

“Eric, I don’t think it’s a good idea… I was just about to sleep and—“

“I bring beer. Let’s drink,” I lift the plastic bag I’ve held in my left hand all this time, almost forgotten.

“I—“ he begins, but I cut him before he could spew more excuses.

“I bring the newest game also, you haven’t bought it yet right?” I rummage inside the plastic bag and find the CD I pre-ordered, although it was just another cover up for my true intention in coming here.

“Okay,” he sighs in defeat and opens the door wider to let me in after seeing the determination in my eyes.

His apartment is still the same, the familiar space in a familiar arrangement—it’s filled with his scent, and for me it feels like coming home. My legs navigate me to the sofa without I even have to think about it, and suddenly I find myself sitting on my favorite spot. He trails behind me, dragging his feet, before settling himself to sit as far as possible from me, still avoiding my gaze at him.

“I’ll get some snacks,” he says after a moment of awkward silence, standing up slowly.

“Stay,” I grab his wrist as he makes a move to go to the kitchen, holding it gently but firmly inside my palm.

“Eric-ah, let me—“ he tries t