Redirecting 

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Himchan breathed in the scent of his morning coffee, holding the cup against his nose. It’s too hot to drink it, but the fragrance wakes him from the haze. Himchans’ heart dreaded, as he thought of Junhong leaning against the pantry, pushing back his blonde hair and grinning at Himchan. He’d always stare into Himchans eyes, and let the older know he watched.
It’s a feeling Himchan had turned to treasure too much, as he turned away from the counter and stepped in to the living room of his apartment, and unlocked the door to the balcony. It wasn’t much of a view, just the street bellow against the buildings packed together in the town. But he liked the breeze, cleaner than at day in the morning.

Junhong had always held Himchan in his hips, nose pressed against Himchans’ neck, inhaling. His lungs press against Himchans back, and he knows that the younger loved the feeling, and lazed into the sensation himself. “You smell like coffee.” Junhong would say.

Himchan bit his lip, feeling dumb.
Junhong isn’t here anymore, he should accept that.

It’s his fault for falling in love with someone so young. He knew it’d be a bad idea. Junhong was younger than all the cracks Himchan had, he knew he would have to let go.  Himchan could only wish that his feelings wouldn’t run so deep, but they did, in the end. He had to smile and kiss Junhong good bye and good luck and farewell altogether at the same moment, and he couldn’t cry.

He couldn’t protest for Junhong to stay, or neither could he wail about his wrecked heart. He had hushed about his feelings, to not steam off his fingertips, to not tie Junhong in his small apartment, over and over and over, that it hurt to bear Junhong kissing him.

Years ago, Junhong had stood in front of his music teacher holding a bundle of white prim-roses; pink cheeks and uncertain eyes, nervous fingers and red ear tips, confessing his feelings.

It had been wrong to encourage the boy since the very beginning. He was seventeen, and Himchan was twenty eight. Junhong was his student, and Himchan was his teacher. They were both men.
But Junhong was innocent, and his touch sparked on Himchans skin. His lips were slender and his hair was smooth against Himchans fingers. His skin was flawless underneath Himchans’ gaze, and there was no escape from the kisses Junhong dared to steal in every nook and corner of the school.

Himchan was in love, with the tall basketball player who scored the winning shot, the smart student who always dreamed of America, his blonde curls and daring lips. Until his words was the end of Himchans restraints one evening. He followed Himchan into the restaurant he walked into buy himself coffee, and got himself seated in front of Himchan without an invitation. He wouldn’t scoot off, ever since he had pecked his lips against Himchans’ after class, and the elder had turned red in embarrassment.

“Junhong, you’re seventeen.” Himchan sighed into his coffee, and Junhong tilted his head, and blinked his eyes. “I don’t care. I love you.” The teacher could never help the grin that broke out from his lips when Junhong said that. He insisted he loved Himchan, but the boy has no idea. Himchan understands that, because he’s so young. He doesn’t know how love hurts you. His words sound so careless.

“You don’t.”

“I do!” he ran impatient, and kicked one of his long legs against the table, and it almost spilled Himchans coffee. But it didn’t turn the elder impatient. Junhongs’ persistence was enduring, like his eyes – and his broad shoulders, and everything else about the boy that held Himchans eye.

“I love you.”
“Your eyes, lips, voice, fingers. When you’d sing, play the guitar, or keep wondering against the window pane, I’m serious. How you’d blush down your neck, I love you!”
“because I’m young, is that the only reason?”
“I’m a man too, Hyung.”

His eyes burned with passion, and it was as if Himchans walls and reasons crumbled at the snap of Junhongs finger. He had crossed the line that evening, and after Himchans coffee cup spilled over the table with another impatient kick from Junhong, Himchan had gripped so harshly at Junhongs wrist and had dragged him home, a block away from the shop without a tad bit of mercy in his heart.

Then be it.

He dared to undress in front of Junhong.
It was Junhongs first time, so the touches lingered on Himchans skin and lips –he restrained himself over and over to be gentle and gentle, but Junhong took over – and Himchan couldn’t help himself any longer.

He felt horrible afterwards, looking down at Junhongs’ torso marred in red; but the taller smiled happily and kissed Himchan shortly everywhere.
Himchan was forgiven.

Junhong grew too fond of Himchan, and turned his lonely apartment bearable every weekend. Himchan let Junhong do as he pleased, to love him, to kiss him. Knowing how shallow their relationship is, he let it sink in nevertheless. It’s his fault for falling in love with Junhong. For savoring the moments Junhong thru him better for too long. For shutting out his feelings, worrying; at first – thinking he might be holding back, but later onto discover that he would hurt himself only, even if he would beg Junhong to stay.

Because he would leave.

He had never lied. Junhong always dreamt of himself in a busy job in America, and he studied for it. His grades were always in the top ten in the school, and it was Himchan he came to asking for advice, applying for over-sea university scholarships. It was Himchan that proceeded through the documentation to arrange Junhong to live his dream, and he always held back his demons.

Junhong was always so happy.
He didn’t want to take that away.

He wanted so much more from the world; Himchan couldn’t hold back Junhongs’ dreams.

When he left, he visited Himchan to say goodbye before his flight. He never promised he would come back, or he would stay, or he would only love Himchan the way he had, or that he is sad. He didn’t lie, but the truth hurt, twisted Himchan from the inside, because Junhong was always going to leave, Himchan knew that. He was the adult here.

So he made Junhong a sandwich and advised him not to get too close to strangers. Junhong smiled brightly and nodded. When he was to leave, he wrapped his arms tightly around Himchan, and buried his nose under Himchans chin, and breathed in.

“I’ll miss you the most.” Junhong said his voice steady and lips against Himchans collarbones.

And the honesty in those words wrapped Himchan with love, with the feeling of Junhong against his skin, his lips against Himchans, his head around Junhongs’ young voice; but he smiled.

‘Junhong stay.’
‘I’d die.’

He lifted Junhongs face and pressed his lips tenderly against Junhongs, leaving the boy smiling. “Good luck, Junhonggie.”

Himchan sipped his coffee in his balcony, now that his thoughts trailed each other too far, it’s turning cold. He never heard from Junhong afterwards. It’s Saturday, and Himchan is missing Junhong wrapped around his waist, making a list of what he would want for breakfast.

Himchan had lost his appetite long ago, without Junhong.

Himchan got himself seated with his guitar on the couch on the lazy Saturday, and decided to find a tune for everything he’d been scribbling in his diary. Years ago, there were proper entries in it, about life, Junhong, his feelings – but starting recently, Himchan found no such interest to narrate his dull life, and was drabbling lyrics he sometimes mashed with a tune.

‘I’m your sweet, little love maker.
Finding time, to make my words better…
Not enough;
for your constant fun.

I’ve got time, but you’re tired of waiting.
You only want me in open spaces.
Come fill your gaps with people.
I know no one,
so lonely trying to be yours.
When you’re looking for so much more…

You forgot
how we fell in love.
I’m your sweet, little love maker.

You’re younger than I am broken,
I dance feelings like they’re spoken.

So my conversations’ not enough...

So lonely trying to be yours…
What a forsaken course?
So lonely trying to be yours,
when you’re looking for so much more.

How does it feel to know I’m thinking about you?
Whishing these words were enough to consume you?

So lonely trying to be yours…
What a forsaken course?

So lonely trying to be yours,
when you’re looking for so much more?

Oh, to be yours…’ *

Himchan found himself blinking away tears that made his voice slur as he sang, but at the end of it – a day he had wasted thinking about Junhong, he had composed a full song, and felt accomplished. It was past eight, and he decided to go round once more, and he recorded it from his phone.

He laughed a bit at the horrible quality, but it came out nicely altogether. His voice was too gruff to convey the feelings – but he can’t sing any higher. He tossed a coin as he couldn’t decide to upload the song to his soundcloud or not, because he did have a tolerable number of followers there. It fell on heads, and he gave in and uploaded yet another treasured song to his list.

Dinner went by with rice and ham, and he fell asleep afterwards.

He never alarmed to wake up on Sundays, and slept all he could, until his phone started to ring the hell out of him, and he blindly reached about the bed sheet and tapped what he thought was the answer button. And it was.

“Hello.” Rudely he answered, because he was sleeping and fairly pissed with whoever that dared to wake him up. He had slept nicely too, after a long time.

“H-Himchan hyung?”

Himchans eyes shot open at the voice, because it was Junhong. It had to be. A little deeper than he could remember, but it was definitely Junhong. And it didn’t sound right.

“What’s wrong, Junhong?” Himchan narrowed his brows.

Junhong had never called since he left, and Himchan assumes right off the bat something is wrong that he had called. His voice was wavering. Junhong didn’t waver, Himchan knew as much about the boy.

Himchan pressed his phone so hard against his cheek he could have snapped the device into two. He heard sobs in the other side, and his heart brain stared to firework inside.

“Junhong, what’s wrong? Hyung’s here. Tell me. I’m listening.” Himchan calmed down the worry in his voice to somewhat understanding, and it somehow had not helped, because Junhong sniffled in the other side, breathing in heavily.

“I’m so sorry, hyung. I – I’m so sorry.” Junhong started to apologize, a sorry after another, followed by ugly sobs – each and every second, that it confused Himchan in and out of his mind.

“Junhong, what happened? It’s okay. Please, stop crying.”

The boy took a while sniffling in his words and calmed down for the next two silent minutes.

“Junhonggie? What is it? Is everything alright? Why are you crying?” Himchan held no more to the deaf silence, because Junhong was scaring him. What had happened so bad that he turned to someone he had left behind to cry with?

“I’m so sorry.” Junhong repeated, and the process was crushing Himchans brain, because he didn’t understand what’s going on.
“Junhong, it’s okay, alright? It’s okay. You’re listening right?”

The younger hummed, and waited in silence, although Himchan kept asking over and over what’s wrong. Then Junhong hung up, and that scared the hell out of Himchan.
Where’s Junhong?
How can he find him?
What has happened?

He stared blankly at the phone and tried to call back, but Junhong rejected. The amount of adrenaline in Himchans veins wanted him to run out of the apartment to wherever Junhong was, to find the boy and comfort him – but he didn’t know where to go.

Then his phone dinged with a text message.

‘I don’t know how to talk to you anymore, Hyung. I’m so sorry that I’ve been so cruel. It feels horrible, hyung. Why do you still think of me? Forget me. I’m not worth your time. Please forget me. I’m alright. It’s you I worry for. Let me go, hyung. Don’t love me so dearly.’

Then with another…

‘Please forgive me.’

Himchans heart swelled with pain, because he didn’t want Junhong to do this. How could he ask Himchan to let go?

‘I’m sorry too, Junhong.’ He replied. ‘I’ve forgiven you long ago. It’s okay.’

Junhong didn’t text back afterwards.
Himchan refrained from composing songs about Junhong afterwards.
But his diary was still scribbled on. He can’t let them out.

Loving Junhong had always been like this, so he doesn’t mind anymore. Once in a while, he’d think back to Junhong crying because he had matured to understand Himchans’ feelings. Disturbingly, it put Himchan at ease, and chased away his nightmares.

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AN:
I've been ed in an out of my mind trying to figure out the ing song *'Pendulum' by FKA Twigs,
And finally I think i get it.