A/N: So...I kinda realized halfway through writing this fic that while I wrote the setting to be in Korea, I completely disregarded the Korean school system and calendar. After considering, I finally decided to leave it as is, so yes, that’s one major fail in terms of being realistic, but I hope you guys can look past that? If you must, pretend it’s an alternate universe... OTL xD

Inspired by Super Junior’s “This is Love” and “Evanesce.” Dedicated to 我亲爱的 hiphopbabylion <3

~~

Like every clichéd love story, they met in spring. Beautiful springtime, when flowers were beginning to bloom and the weather was pleasant. Blue skies reigned over the days, the air refreshing with the warm breezes that blew through.

Like every common drama trope, Kunpimook was the late transfer student arriving just in time for the last term of the school year. Yugyeom was class president, tasked with introducing the tiny Thai transferee to the school and ensuring he was “comfortable,” or whatever that entailed.

Now if this was a drama, this situation could only go one of two ways. One, either one or both of them would fall in love at first sight, setting up a chain reaction of events that would undoubtedly result with them as an item by the end of the school year. In the second scenario, a misunderstanding would lead them to become bitter enemies within the first five minutes of meeting, thus leading to a slightly more angsty chain events, but would still ultimately end in reconciliation and love.

Thankfully, for the sake of being original, neither of those storylines was followed. Yugyeom led Kunpimook around school for his first week of school, sat with him at lunch, and after the first week that was that. Kunpimook eventually settled down in a friend group primarily composed of class clowns and foreign exchange students, and Yugyeom returned to eating lunch with his studious buddies who also shared his same fiery passion for manga. The two of them had established a strong relationship as acquainted classmates with relatively decent first impressions, but the romantic spring season was wasted on days spent enclosed in school walls.

That was the end of sophomore year.

It was only until autumn that they came into contact again, missing out completely on the season of hot summer passion. Kunpimook and Yugyeom were no longer in the same class, but still saw each other regularly after school at Dance Club. Yugyeom had been a part of it since his freshman year, and Kunpimook had joined as soon as he found out the school had such a thing.

Perhaps this was when the seeds had finally been planted. Kunpimook and Yugyeom both had very distinctly different dance styles, and so it was only natural they most often practiced in different groups. But when it came to dance battles and performances, one boy’s eyes would always linger just a split second longer on the other, and vice versa. It was unconscious, just an appreciation of skills and nothing more, except maybe the barest of primitive attraction.

And thus junior year came and went.

Senior year. Two words that were full of weight, heavy with implications of endings and impending new beginnings. Kunpimook and Yugyeom were both voted as dance captains, replacing the recently graduated seniors.

It was an end giving birth to a beginning.

Friendships were unpredictable. Initiation could be deliberate, forced, or coincidental. In the case of two senior boys, it merely took a bit longer for the previously planted seeds to germinate and sprout.

They’d known each other for over a year, so all things considered it was a bit ridiculous their first one-on-one conversation since the time Yugyeom was Kunpimook’s guide was only now taking place, mid-august before the school year began. It was a casual meeting, an attempt to roughly plan out the year for their club. Dates, competitions they wanted to attend, practice schedules, and etc.–  general logistics. Yugyeom found himself feeding off of Kunpimook’s excitable energy and high goals, and Kunpimook found himself pleasantly surprised by Yugyeom’s laid-back humor laced with barbed wit.

Kunpimook told Yugyeom to call him Bambam from now on.

~~

But really, it wasn’t until a week later that they truly clicked, at the bowling alley. What was supposed to be a team bonding event turned into an unfortunate date for the duo. Although, this was entirely due to the incredibly bad planning on their part, as the only reason nobody showed up was because invites were sent out last-minute the night before.

It started out a bit awkward, both embarrassed by their apparent failure at leadership before falling into a game of self-deprecation. And it didn’t take long before that progressed to disses aimed at each other and then finally, a full-blown, high passion bowling match, in which Yugyeom completely decimated Kunpimook. Kunpimook didn’t get discouraged though, valiantly rolling gutter ball after gutter ball until they were out of rounds to play.

However, Yugyeom almost wished he hadn’t won afterwards, what with all the whining and pouting Kunpimook had laid on him until he’d agreed to buy them both dinner.

For a kid as thin as a rod, Kunpimook ate way too much in Yugyeom’s opinion. But then Kunpimook had shyly offered to pay for ice cream as dessert and Yugyeom found himself not minding so much anymore.

It wasn’t till later, much, much later, that they realized that this was their true first date, intentional or not.

~~

Once school started, it didn’t really matter that Kunpimook and Yugyeom shared no classes together, because two hour dance practices after school were more than enough. They were trying something new this year, merging the different cliques and groups that had formed in the club due to various differences, be it dance style or personality.

Things were going incredibly well, all things considered, but with the much larger group came a lot more shenanigans that went down at practice.

And a looooot more dance battles.

“Yugyeom! Yugyeom! Yugyeom!”

The chanting increased in volume in proportion to the music as the chorus picked up, Yugyeom grinning as his feet moved impossibly fast, double-time the music but still hitting every major beat. Kunpimook’s team had their unimpressed faces on, but it wasn’t hard to see the excited gleam of respect in their eyes as they watched.

“Okay, okay, enough! My turn!” Kunpimook hollered when the song finally ended, and Yugyeom waved him to the center of the room as he himself staggered off to the side, finally letting his exhaustion show.

The next song was upbeat, fun, and just the slightest bit dirty. Kunpimook smirked, winking at Yugyeom as he began to dance. Unlike Yugyeom, whose style was entirely focused on the complicated steps and combinations of his feet, Kunpimook enjoyed his flair, putting just as much emphasis on his arms and facials as his footwork. He was an entertainer, jumping and twirling, and yes, sometimes rolling various body parts just because he could, earning hoots and cheers and laughs easily.

When the song ended he gave a dramatic bow, eyes twinkling as he too staggered off to the side, settling down on the floor beside Yugyeom as they let their other teammates take over.

“Hmmm, seems like I won that one,” Kunpimook stated nonchalantly, though a glimmer of mischief in his eyes couldn’t be concealed entirely. Yugyeom only scoffed.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve never seen sloppier footwork,” he declared, sniffing in mock disdain but the corner of his lips were tilted upward.

Kunpimook pretended to be outraged.

“My footwork? Have you seen your arms? You let them flail all over the place, they’re so distracting no one’s gonna be paying any attention to your feet! You’re worse than a tapper!”

“Did you just compare my dancing to tapping?!”

Eyes narrowed as they glared at each other, but it only took two seconds before their act cracked, and they each dissolved into breathless laughter. Kunpimook tipped over onto Yugyeom, body shaking with mirth.

“Ewww, get off me,” Yugyeom wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You’re all sweaty.”

“Pft, as if you’re not,” Kunpimook shot back, now purposefully draping himself over his fellow captain. “Deal with it~”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes, but made no further complaints as they both (finally) turned their attention back to the out-of-control dance battle taking place on the dance floor, their sweat intermingling as it dripped down their skin.

~~

When you spend so much time together with another person, it’s inevitable you begin to learn of the other’s weaknesses.

Although, Kunpimook didn’t exactly make his subtle, anyways.

“I don’t understaaaand,” he wailed first thing as he stomped into their practice room, everyone stopping in the choreography as they turned to look questioningly at their tardy captain.

“You’re late,” Yugyeom commented instead, raising an eyebrow as someone else ran to turn off the music.

“It’s not my fault…” Kunpimook had the decency to look somewhat guilty, but his lips still formed a petulant pout. “Teacher made me stay back.”

Yugyeom raised an eyebrow as everyone else watched the exchange curiously, “Why?”

“Because he’s a jerk!” Kunpimook whined, even stomping his foot. But there was just a slightly bit of worry present in the way his brow was furrowed, and Yugyeom made a quick decision.

“Okay, whatever, just get your over here and help me teach the choreography.”

Kunpimook pouted some more, but Yugyeom knew he wasn’t imagining the relief in the way his brow smoothed.

He cornered him after practice, pulling Kunpimook back into the practice room with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“Okay, spill.”

Kunpimook bit his lip, worrying it with his teeth, clearly reluctant. Yugyeom didn’t back down, though, hand tightening around Kunpimook’s shoulder.

Kunpimook took a breath, avoiding Yugyeom’s eyes.

“I’m failing Korean right now.”

Yugyeom immediately grasped the implications of that sentence, and his eyes widened.

“What?!”

Kunpimook slumped, sliding down the mirror until he was sitting, leaning against the reflective surface with his head between his knees.

“Yeah. And, it’s not like- I’m trying, I really am. I’m not slacking. It just, got a lot harder this year. And this year, I don’t get the chance to redo assignments. That saved me last year, being able to get points back by doing corrections. It’s just so hard for me to get it all right the first time around.” He sighed, ruffling his own hair in frustration.

Yugyeom was quiet, pensive as he sat down too. If Kunpimook couldn’t get his grade back up, he’d get kicked out of all his extracurriculars.

“I’ll tutor you,” were the next words to come from Yugyeom’s mouth, and Kunpimook’s head jerked up.

“What? Wait, really?”

Yugyeom cuffed him on the side of his head.

“We need you on the team, you idiot. We’ve got competitions, we can’t be short one of our best dancers, and a captain at that. I’m good at Korean and composition stuff.”

Kunpimook looked relieved and grateful, but then doubt overtook him again.

“But, I…I can’t pay you, Yugyeom. And I really right now, it’s gonna be really time consuming…”

Yugyeom cuffed him on the head again, a little harder this time and earned an indignant yelp in return.

“Who said I wanted to you to pay me? Geez. And redoing all the choreography, and teaching all the choreography by myself would take much longer than it’d take to tutor you, I guarantee it. Just buy me ice cream as payment, got it?”

Kunpimook still looked uncertain, but the forcefulness of Yugyeom’s words and stare convinced him.

“Okay.”

~~

They settled into a routine easily. Kunpimook and Yugyeom already stayed after practice anyways to tie up any loose ends. Now, they just stay back even longer, sprawled out over the hardwood floors, careful not to bump the mirrors but occasionally doing so anyways.

Yugyeom was a good tutor. He had all the personality traits that enabled him to be one: patience, eloquence, and a perceptiveness of when it was time to push and when it was time to take a break.

It took a few weeks, but soon their efforts were rewarded with tangible results. Kunpimook wasn’t exactly excelling in Korean, but at the very least he was no longer in danger of being pulled from his activities. That day, after getting their tests back, Kunpimook had pulled out all the stops, treating the entire team to ice cream after practice.

(He came to regret that later when his wallet was completely emptied, and Yugyeom, the jerk, had only laughed at him).

But of course, all things come at a price. With both of the team captains’ attention focused more intensely on academics the past few weeks, naturally less energy had been input into practice. To save time, Yugyeom and Kunpimook had started to choreograph more during group practice, leaving the others to work on what they’ve already taught them, and thus allowing them more time to work on Kunpimook’s Korean after school.

And, well, while everyone one the team loved to dance and desperately wanted to win come competition season, that old saying soon proved to be true: when the cats are away, the mice come out to play.

“What is this? Have you guys even been practicing? We cleaned this part weeks ago! Even if we’re not expecting progress, at least maintain the same level! Everything’s gone backwards!”

Yugyeom was quite literally the personification of a giant teddy bear, always smiling and teasing and laughing, so it was easy to forget how intimidating his towering physique could be. Like right now, with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed as he stared everyone down.

“We still have a lot of time until competitions, that’s true, but do you think the other teams that are after first place are gonna be slacking like this? Thinking that oh, there’s plenty of time left, we’ll just pull it together later?” Kunpimook’s voice was softer than Yugyeom’s but his words were just as harsh, and all their teammates bowed their heads in shame.

There was a pause, a tense silence as everyone waited with bated breath. Yugyeom and Kunpimook shared a glance, something odd being reflected between them.

“Go home for today. Reflect, and we want everyone back here tomorrow giving a hundred percent, got it?”

There was a chorus of yes’s as everyone scattered, grabbing discarded articles of clothing and workout bags.

“Make it two-hundred percent tomorrow to make up for lost time, got it?” Kunpimook added just for good measure and Yugyeom had to turn away, everyone who hadn’t ducked out of the practice room yet chorusing their assent.

The second the door to the dance studio swung shut, Kunpimook and Yugyeom made eye contact, and immediately burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh my god did you see Jimin’s face–”

“Taehyung looked like he was about to pee his pants oh my god–”

“Who knew we could be so intimidating–”

Soon, they were both collapsed on the floor, clutching their stomachs in pain from laughing so much. It took a few more minutes for their giggles to die down completely, and then they just lay there, panting, amusement still audible with every breath.

“Well, we sure whipped them into shape,” Kunpimook finally said, earning another giggle from Yugyeom.

“I’m surprised you managed to keep a straight face through all that,” Yugyeom commented, earning a half-hearted slap on the arm.

“Are you kidding? I thought you were gonna lose it halfway through that!”

This brought about another round of laughter and pathetic attempts at slaps and punches, until they finally settled down again, exhausted and breathless.

“Either way, I think that was the motivation everyone needed at this point.” Yugyeom finally said this seriously, but his tone was still light, his eyes fond as he looked over at Kunpimook.

“Oh yeah. We’re definitely gonna win this year.” Kunpimook grinned back at Yugyeom, eyes blazing.

~~

The first time Yugyeom saw Kunpimook cry, was also the first time anyone had seen him genuinely livid.

“What the were you thinking ing KIM YUGYEOM?!”

Everyone flinched, and the nurse stood up from her desk, clearly ready to intervene. But a few quick glances exchanged between the team and she was quickly being diverted, pulled out of the infirmary with a dance team member on each side of her, followed by the rest of the team that quickly filed out afterwards.

Within moments, the only ones left in the room were Yugyeom and Kunpimook, with Yugyeom on the bed with his leg propped up and looking absolutely terrified at there being no escape.

“I’m sorry?” he uttered weakly.

“Sorry? SORRY? You could’ve BROKEN your ankle! BROKEN! We’re the team captains, we’re always talking about setting a good example, being careful, taking care of our bodies, and what the do you go ahead and do?”

Kunpimook paused to take in a shaky breath, his breathing become ragged, and Yugyeom tried to cut in to placate him.

“I know, I know, I was being stupid. This is all my fault and I’m so sorry Bam…” Yugyeom swallowed, his voice catching in his throat. “I really, really am so sorry. For letting you down, for letting down the team. I just thought– I mean, competitions are getting closer, but now I might’ve just ruined all our chances and you have all the right to be upset…” Yugyeom bowed his head, his eyes becoming moist. “I’m so sorry.”

There was a silence and Yugyeom held his breath, waiting for barbed words that were surely about to be thrown his way. And he deserved it. He’d twisted his ankle that morning on the stairs, but it hadn’t been a big deal. He knew if he rested it for a day, it’d probably be fine by the next, but instead of doing just that, he’d gone to practice anyways. And not only that, he’d attempted to flip on it. Of course, on the landing it had given out on him, and now here they were.

But instead of more screaming more angry words, the silence continued. Finally unable to stand the torturous silence any longer, Yugyeom hesitantly peeked up through his bangs.

And what he saw nearly broke his heart. The anger had long since disappeared from Kunpimook’s face, and instead two shiny tear tracks decorated his cheeks. Yugyeom almost choked, his own teary eyes shocked to dryness as he watched another tear overflow from Kunpimook’s eye, rolling down in slow motion until it reached Kunpimook’s chin, before flying off and landing on the bed with an almost inaudible splat.

“Why–” Yugyeom finally managed to croak, still in shock, and now Kunpimook began to bawl in earnest.

“You. Stupid. Idiot!” he hiccupped, collapsing on the side of Yugyeom’s bed, a weak fist coming up to pound Yugyeom’s chest. “Who cares about winning? Did you hear the nurse? You could’ve broken your ankle, or even shattered it. If-If you did that, you might never dance the same, did you not hear that?! You-You IDIOT!”

The realization that Kunpimook wasn’t angry but afraid instead, afraid for him, ignited a peculiar feeling of warmth right in the center of Yugyeom’s chest, blooming as it spread outwards in the form of the happiest smile on Yugyeom’s face.

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” he whispered, gathering Kunpimook’s shaking form into his arms.

“I swear to god Kim Yugyeom if you pull that again I will beat you up.” Kunpimook’s voice was muffled, his face buried in Yugyeom’s shirt, but Yugyeom just nodded, humming in affirmation.

“I promise I won’t.”

~~

It’s funny, how some routines become so habitual without there ever being a conscious decision made. And thus, often times realization doesn’t occur until long after such a habit begins.

But truly, what were the chances that Yugyeom and Kunpimook would make the same discovery at the exact same instant?

It was a team party, for group bonding or whatever after the failed bowling incident. They were at karaoke, curled up comfortably on the couch as they watched their teammates’ goof off and scream into the mics.

Kunpimook’s bangs were beginning to get long, falling into his eyes and he tried to reach up to brush them away.

The only problem was, his hand was currently locked in a firm grip.

Yugyeom’s grip.

While Kunpimook looked down to gawk at their intertwined digits, Yugyeom also followed his gaze downwards curiously to see what was so fascinating.

He immediately adopted a similar shocked expression.

Since when had they been holding hands?!

They sprung away from each other, faces burning from embarrassment, avoiding eye contact as they each tried to calm their racing hearts.

But somehow, an hour later, they found themselves back in the same position, fingers interlocked and unmoving.

When they realized this the second time around the blushes were even more fierce, but neither moved away.

~~

They say it’s the little things, and that you don’t realize what you truly have until you lose it.

Okay, maybe Yugyeom was just being dramatic here. Really dramatic. Because it really wasn’t a bit deal, he quite literally saw Kunpimook every other day. He was just sick at home, he didn’t even go to school so of course he wouldn’t be able to come to practice.

So why did the studio feel so empty, even with the entire team present and as loud as usual? Why did it seem like something so important was missing?

This should have been Yugyeom’s wake up call, but in the face of duties and responsibilities, Yugyeom pushed those thoughts aside.

(Pft. Duties and responsibilities, what bull. He was just deluding himself.)

~~

Perhaps it was fitting that the ended up being so anticlimactic.

They were at Yugyeom’s place, it was a Sunday night, and really they should’ve been sleeping already because it was 12:14 am and they still had school the next day. But they were irresponsible teens, right, so who cared?

They had just started another movie at 11, The Dark Knight Rises or whatever, but even teenage stubbornness couldn’t win over their own bodies. Yugyeom was starting to space out, and Kunpimook’s eyes had slipped shut minutes prior, only fluttering open every once in a while as if to prove he was not yet asleep.

A sudden stream of loud noises from the movie jerked him awake, make him jump in his seat and hitting the top of his head on Yugyeom’s chin.

“OW!”

Even the exclamations of pain were in unison as they each grabbed their respective injured body part, turning to glare balefully at the other.

And promptly froze.

They were so close, too close. Like holding hands without realizing, cuddling had quickly become the same way, and it had just been easier for both of them to not question and accept it. Even now, their legs were tangled and most of Kunpimook’s weight was on Yugyeom’s lap. Before, he’s been snuggled up right against Yugyeom’s chest, thus why his sudden movement had caused him to hit Yugyeom’s chin. Yugyeom had had an arm around Kunpimook’s waist, but that had been moved away shortly prior in favor of rubbing his surely bruised chin.

But now, with Kunpimook staring up and Yugyeom staring down, both seemed to be caught on their last breath, unable to breathe out or in. They became hyperaware of every single body part that touched and of every expanse of skin that was currently in contact.

They moved in together, eyes fluttering shut in the most chaste of kisses.

~~

Kunpimook felt as if he was on top of the world.

Technically, they weren’t there yet. They still had a long way to go, and honestly who even knew where ultimate success was? What was the definition of success? But all Kunpimook knew was that he was the happiest he’d ever been in his entire life.

Objectively speaking, nothing much had changed. Frankly, the holding hands, the cuddling, the banter and the ridiculously fond smiles had come into existence long before clumsy words had been attached to define their relationship. All this remained the same, and Yugyeom was by his side as always.

But perhaps it was the realization that made it all so exhilarating, the knowledge that this was it.

This is love.

~~

They didn’t end up winning.

The disappointment was palpable, because seriously, who wouldn’t be at the very least slightly disappointed? They all wanted to win that final competition. It was the culmination of all the sweat, tears, and yes even blood, that had been so painstakingly planted through the entire year.

But still, second place was pretty damn good. Like damn good. As performers, they knew better than anyone that the repeated phrase of “I had no regrets” was a big fat lie. There would always be regrets, mistakes they wished they could undo or take back.

But knowing that perfection was impossible to start off with, they truly had nothing to feel bad about. They gave it their all, and no matter what, it had paid off. Perhaps not the exact way they wanted, but they still had the right to feel proud, god damn it.

The after party reflected these feelings; there was no holding back, one last hurrah to end the year. The party was wild, full of boisterous laughter that never seemed to die down and dancing, of course, lots and lots of dancing.

What no one mentioned, was melancholic glint to everyone’s eye. Surely, they all noticed, but all chose to stubbornly write it off as an effect of the alcohol, an illusion caused by the lighting.

They were all so, so happy, but the end was approaching.

Who wouldn’t be a bit reluctant?

~~

And ah, fateful decision day.

Yugyeom and Kunpimook weren’t stupid. Frankly, half of the “stupid teenagers” weren’t nearly as stupid as people thought them to be. The entire year, they’d been lectured on the importance of this decision, because it would be the starting point of the rest of their entire lives.

As two people in a relationship, if they got a dime for every time someone told them not to choose their college because of the other person, they’d both have enough money to pay for tuition already.

They didn’t choose the same college, not even by a long shot. But they’d been expecting it from the start, so there was no shock, only an uncomfortable itch that came with the avoidance of every important topic.

~~

“So, any idea what you’re going to study?”

“No idea…”

“I’ve got an idea for you!”

“What?!”

“Hmmm I was thinking something along the lines of the Art of Shameless Flirtation…..”

“Yah!”

“OW ow ow owwwwww!”

“KIM YUGYEOM YOU GET BACK HERE!”

~~

The end of the school year came and went, graduation also came and went. These were the times that the parents seemed to be more excited than the students, as finally, finally they received that precious piece of proof acknowledging their status of education.

While the parents chattered away excited, Kunpimook had only pulled Yugyeom to the side, interlocking their fingers of one hand while raising his other to snap a dozen new selfies. Yugyeom was just as enthusiastic, the two of them making the same familiar silly faces.

For the graduates, it was exciting, but none of it had quite sunk in yet. Even if they knew they were no longer high schoolers and transitioning out of that stage of youth, nothing really felt different. They still felt like kids, and if they didn’t think about it, it would’ve been completely natural to return to high school in the fall.

For Kunpimook and Yugyeom especially, the end still seemed far off, months away, at the end of summer. Though they both knew that time would fly and it would be there before they knew it, they both chose not to dwell on the fact. It was an inevitable reality, and so they turned their attention to excitedly planning for their summer instead.

Travel plans, must-visit restaurants, silly bucket-list items. They were going to do it all, together.

They were free now, and they were going to make every second count.

~~

Saying goodbye had been hard.

The last few days before Yugyeom had to leave, they practically spent every moment, both waking and sleeping, together. Their frantic pace of activity of early summer slowed to a mellow moping, choosing to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie as opposed to going for a bike ride outside.

It still didn’t feel real, that they would seen be separating, but the lingering dread was there nonetheless.

Kunpimook felt silly crying. They’d see each other again in a few months, they’d still be in contact. But knowing these things still couldn’t stop his tears from soaking into the front of Yugyeom’s t-shirt as they clutched each other tightly one last time.

After all, this chapter of their life was ending. There would be no going back to old times, or reliving this carefree period of adolescence.

Their lips pressed urgently together for one last time before Yugyeom was ushered into the car by his parents.

Why did Kunpimook feel such a sense of finality while watching that car, carrying Yugyeom, slowly move out of sight?

~~

“Say, Yugyeom.”

“Hmm?”

“Can we go back nowww?”

A dull smack.

“Hey what was that for?!”

“Who’s idea was this in the first place?!”

“I didn’t know there’d be this many mosquitos! Besides, you were all for it, when I told you there was supposed to be a meteor shower!”

“Exactly! So we should stick it through!”

“But I’m getting eaten alive here!”

“As if I’m not!”

A loud huff, and then a sigh.

“Hey Bam…”

“What…?”

“I didn’t know you cared about astronomy.”

“I don’t.”

A quiet rustle, a shifting of weight.

“Then how did you know about the meteor shower?”

“I...thought it’d be close enough to shooting stars.”

Brief silence.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A buzzing, and then a smack.

“Hey Bam, let’s go back. We can probably watch from inside too, right?”

A hoot of triumph.

“I knew there was a reason I loved you most!”

“Uh-huh. I should’ve known though, persistence has never been your strong suit…”

A smattering of dull thuds.

“Ow ow ow ow! Now what?!”

“If anything, persistence has never been OUR strong suit!”

~~

It wasn’t so bad, at first. Not at all.

They missed each other, of course they did. They were on opposite ends of the country, used to seeing each other every day, or at least knowing they had the luxury to on the rare days they didn’t. They both lost a constant that had been so present in their lives the past year, it’d be suspicious if they didn’t miss each other.

But the thing was, everything was new. It wasn’t just a removal of one constant, but the shifting of an entire world. There was no time to wallow in self-pity or overthink things; there was so much to learn, so much to absorb! Frankly, too often they were just too busy to miss the other.

But when night fell and the day’s activities died down, the longing would return. Kunpimook, especially, was used to being able to vent and ramble about the day’s events. Except now, Yugyeom wasn’t here to listen.

Thankfully, there was something called technology in their day and age. And thus began their habit of calling each other at least once every two or three days, during which they would spend at least an hour talking. And no, this did not include all the extra hours on Instagram, twitter, facetime, snapchat, texting…

It wasn’t hard to stay in touch, and Kunpimook and Yugyeom took full advantage of it all.

But alas, as forewarned, it became harder and harder to do as time went on. They didn’t have a set schedule, nothing like “call every Monday, Thursday, Saturday” or anything like that. It was whenever one of them remembered to, and caught up in the college life, more and more often it began to slip their minds. Texting grew less frequent, not on purpose, but due to the inevitable drifting.

Neither felt too pressured or concerned, though. It wasn’t like they’d stop keeping in contact; at the very least they still called once a week. They’d talked about this happening before hand, knowing it was a common phenomenon hard to avoid. They reassured themselves this was normal, and since they were aware, they would be able to beat the odds.

Their insurance, though, was winter break. They’d agreed long before that they’d both travel back to spend time with each other during break (among other things), and so neither became too concerned.

~~

When they finally met up again, the scene was set perfectly for a touching reunion. The snow had just started to drift down in lazy flakes, leaving a dusting of white on every surface. They’d chosen to meet at their old high school (romantic, right?), and Yugyeom had gotten their first, seated on the bench out front with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

When Kunpimook had finally walked up, that familiar smile on his face and eyes shining even brighter than Yugyeom had last remembered, it felt exactly like a drama. Time didn’t slow or stop, but for Yugyeom it might as well have, because no other information was absorbed from around him, his eyes only on Kunpimook.

For a moment, Kunpimook just stood there and Yugyeom just sat. But then he was leaping up, both of them surging forwards to engulf the other in a bone crushing hug.

“I missed you.”

The words were breathed out in uncanny unison, prompting breathy laughs to follow, breaths huffing out in steamy white puffs.

“You look good,” was the first thing Kunpimook said when they parted.

“You do too,” Yugyeom responded breathlessly, laughter still caught on the ends of his words.

And perhaps, time could turn back, because when they were seated inside their favorite coffee shop, it was just like old times. The way both of their cheeks were dusted with pink, their affection still innocent, sweet, pure.

“So, ace all your finals?” Yugyeom asked teasingly, knowing it would draw a groan out of Kunpimook.

“Ughhhh don’t even mention finals,” Kunpimook shuddered.

“Did you make sure to answer all the questions in Korean, at least?” Yugyeom couldn’t help jabbing.

“Hey! That was once!”

“Twice! You wrote one in English before too on accident!”

“Fine, Mr. Perfect,” Kunpimook really couldn’t deny it, sticking his tongue out at Yugyeom. “Though on second thought I think I actually did catch myself doing that once….” he laughed sheepishly.

“Glad you haven’t changed.” The words were said sarcastically, but the glow to Yugyeom’s face made it clear it wasn’t all that insincere. There was also a giddy relief behind it. As ridiculous as the notion seemed, that either of them could really change that much in these short few months, it was reassuring to be faced with the tangible evidence.

They were still them.

“Oh shut up, as if you have. I’m sure you aced all of yours, as usual…”

Yugyeom laughed at Kunpimook’s pout, reaching a hand over to ruffle his hair. Kunpimook retaliated by snatching up Yugyeom’s cup of hot cider, glaring at him as he took a large gulp. Yugyeom wasn’t one to just take one for the team, either, and promptly snatched up Kunpimook’s mug.

After a sip, though, he set it down, brow wrinkling in confusion.

“Bam, this is just coffee.”

“Nuh-uh, it’s an expresso.”

“That’s the same thing,” Yugyeom’s frown deepened. “I thought you didn’t like coffee? At the very most, you get mochas, but those practically taste like hot chocolate anyways.”

Kunpimook shrugged, unperturbed.

“I’ve gotten used to it, the caffeine is what I really need. I’d still take hot cider any day though~”

With that declaration, he gave Yugyeom a cheeky grin and took a loud slurp of his cider.

“Hey, give that back you moocher! Get your own!” Yugyeom made a grab for his cup, but it was half-hearted at best. A shiver of inexplicable relief ran through his body, but Yugyeom quickly shook it off, not wanting to linger on the implication of the extent of his insecurity. “How’s dance club going, then?”

At this, Kunpimook’s smile dropped, slowly pushing Yugyeom’s cup back to his side.

“I...quit, actually. A month ago, so...it’s been a while.”

“What?!” Yugyeom nearly shouted, earning a curious look from the couple at the table next to them. “Are you serious?” he asked in a slightly quieter voice, but couldn’t quite control his disbelief.

“Yeah…” Kunpimook bit his lip, eyes drifting downwards. “I… yeah.”

“Why?” Yugyeom pressed, urgency audible.

“I just...they were kinda jerks, kay? Not even kinda jerks, they were class A douchebags.” Kunpimook suddenly looked up, his eyes flashing and catching Yugyeom off guard. “They’re all just...so stuck up and think they’re all that? If it was just cocky I might’ve been able to tolerate it, but the blatant disrespect they have for everyone else is disgusting. The dance club is super popular and everything, but god I couldn’t take the way they acted all superior and . Like, I got into the club fine but still, I don’t want to be associated with people like that… you know?”

By the end of his rant Kunpimook had slowly lost confidence, his last sentence phrased more like a question than a confident statement. His eyes were cautious as he tried to gauge Yugyeom’s reaction, as if he was scared Yugyeom wouldn’t understand.

“...Oh.” Yugyeom exhaled in a woosh, breath hissing out through his teeth. The relief this time wasn’t a shiver, but a tidal wave crashing over him that left him exhausted.

All he could think was Thank goodness and this is my Bam alright.

It was a reaction, no, an overreaction, that he could no longer just brush off and ignore.

“I....okay, sorry, I didn’t mean to act so shocked,” Yugyeom finally gathered himself, chuckling apologetically. “I understand though, but that’s a pity, then.”

“Yeah…” Kunpimook sighed, but not before shooting Yugyeom a relieved grin. “There are a few less serious dance groups on campus though, I’ve been looking into them more. They’re less advanced, of course, but hey, I dance for fun anyways.”

“Yeah, that’s good.” Yugyeom finally managed a truly genuine smile, and he nudged Kunpimook with a hand. “Show those good for nothing s you don’t need them anyways.”

“Yahh, it’s not like that!” Kunpimook protested, but the broad smile on his face gave away how much he appreciated the sentiment. “So, how’s dance club been going for you?”

~~

Yugyeom had come back feeling nervous, uncertain, but when the time came to separate again, he was reassured.

Kunpimook was still the same, and he too, was still the same. More importantly, their relationship hadn’t regressed.

But Yugyeom also left with a budding insecurity. Even in these short few months, even with consistent contact, a distance made of unknown facts and lost details had grown between them. For now, at least, these were minute footnotes, unimportant in the grand scheme of things and easily relearned.

But wasn’t it also these little tidbits that made up their everyday life? Even if it made no difference now, would there come a day when these little bits and pieces piled up to form a wall between them?

Yugyeom didn’t know.

~~

February 14th. Valentine’s Day, the day of love, romance, and promises of eternal devotion and love.

It was only a little over a month since Kunpimook had last seen Yugyeom, so why was his mind such a mess?

Right away in the morning, Yugyeom had called him. Wished him Happy Valentine’s Day, cooing sweet (and incredibly cheesy) lines that had easily drawn laughter. They’d chatted for a good hour, both warmed by the other’s verbal reassurances.

That is, until Yugyeom had mentioned an outing he would be going to later that day with his friends.

Kunpimook didn’t know where his sudden unease had stemmed from. It didn’t make sense. He’d never been a particularly jealous or possessive person, so the turmoil of emotion churning in his gut was foreign. He had controlled himself well during the call, but even now, hours later, he couldn’t get it off his mind.

Thinking back, they’d even had a discussion before, the two of them, on the topic of jealousy. Kunpimook had always been a er for romance, often cooing about how cool the male lead in whatever drama they were watching was. Yugyeom had only snorted disdainfully, earning a well-aimed wack in the head by a pillow.

Afterwards, though, when they were curled up together under the same blanket with Kunpimook’s head tucked under Yugyeom’s chin, Kunpimook had made a confession.

~

“But you know, if that situation happened in real life and you reacted like that male lead did….” Kunpimook wrinkled his nose in disgust, and Yugyeom just laughed, chest rumbling against Kunpimook’s ear.

“Yeah, it doesn’t really work that way in real life, huh? Could you imagine, if I glared at every other person you talked to? Forget you or your friends, I’d probably get some eye disease from over-glaring.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing,” Kunpimook laughed, breath warming the front of Yugyeom’s t-shirt. “But seriously though, jealousy and possessiveness only works in dramas. Can you imagine if I stalked you every time you went out with your friends? That’s not possessive, that’s just creepy.”

“And if we got annoyed and pissy every time the other person talked to or hung out with another human being…”

At this they both burst into laughter.

“Looks like that kind of a boyfriend is only attractive in dramas, huh?”

~

But now, for the first time, Kunpimook thought he could relate, if only a little. He still felt no urge to go stalk Yugyeom, or wish that Yugyeom had no other friends besides him.

But he finally understood the insecurity one had to feel in order to be jealous in the first place, and to feel uneasy. He began to wonder, what were Yugyeom’s friends like? He’d described some of them briefly before, but was there anyone like him? Yugyeom was tall, caring, talented, did one of them perhaps harbor a secret crush on him, despite knowing he was already taken?

Was Yugyeom having fun? Perhaps, more fun than he would be having here with him?

Kunpimook knew his thoughts were stupid, idiotic, and of course Yugyeom would’ve rather spent the day with him. He had told him so just hours before over the phone. Yugyeom wouldn’t lie.

But Kunpimook still couldn’t help wondering, couldn’t help but resent those anonymous friends a little more, because they were able to by Yugyeom’s side when he could not.

He was scared.

~~

Kunpimook was never one to attack problems head on. Not to say Yugyeom was, either, but at least between the two of them, Yugyeom was usually the one more willing to be upfront, to it up and just deal with it.

Kunpimook had always been the more childish one, the more immature one. He knew what he was doing now was only exacerbating the problem, perhaps to a point of no return, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be brave.

He wasn’t ignoring Yugyeom, per say. But he definitely initiated calls less, talked less.

Laughed less.

It was hard to laugh, to pretend everything was okay, when his insides were tumbling around in a vomit-inducing combination of guilt, fear, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

Was it...exhaustion?

How did it happen that what used to be his motivation suddenly turned into something that fatigued him? When did talking to Yugyeom tire him so much?

But ah, that was his own fault, wasn’t it? It had only became so draining when he had begun to put on a front, when every line had become scripted.

And thus began the vicious cycle.

Exhaustion. Shame.

Guilt. Fear.

Exhaustion.

~~

The silence over the phone was deafening.

It had been two weeks since their last call, and by any form of logic, they should’ve had tons to talk about. Two weeks meant fourteen days or three hundred and thirty-six hours or twenty-thousand one hundred and sixty minutes. They should’ve been chatting, laughing, bickering, ranting.

But instead there was only silence.

“I, um,” Kunpimook’s feeble attempt to break it only increased the awkwardness, and by this time both of them were in panic mode.

How could they have nothing to talk about? How could they not know what to say? And what was this suffocating awkwardness that hung over the line, preventing either of them from saying anything?

Yugyeom had always worried about those little moments together slipping from their grasp, but he never would’ve imagined the wall would’ve been built so fast.

But no, it wasn’t just the distance between them that held them apart.

It was their own fear.

“I-ah, so sorry, but my roommate just came in and he, uh, needs help with something, I’m sorry, I’ll you back later.” Kunpimook finally stammered and Yugyeom let him hang up without protest, not questioning the blatant lie.

Kunpimook may be the bigger coward by fleeing, but Yugyeom was just as afraid to take that step forward to catch him.

Kunpimook didn’t call back.

~~

Summer. The season of red hot passion, of sun and beaches and lazing around. The season the two of them had first missed out on, but had more than made up for every year following.

Summer used to be their favorite season.

When had things become like this?

They’d tried to reignite the flame. When they ran into each other’s arms, branding their mark on the other in a searing, desperate kiss when they were finally reunited, they had thought, it’d be okay. They had three months together, they had each other, they would fix things.

It would be okay because they still loved each other, right? That was all that mattered.

Right?

~~

It was a familiar scene. A bowling alley, not empty but not full either, bustling with just the right amount of activity. The lights had been dimmed slightly, and the music that played overhead eliminated any possibility for an awkward silence.

“I’ve gotten better, haven’t I?” Kunpimook laughed when he successfully rolled a strike, but even to his ears his laugh sounded much too brittle. Yugyeom rolled his eyes, it was that same teasing gesture, but that softness was missing behind his eyes.

They were both putting on an act. When Kunpimook reach over to hold his hand, there was no warmth, no shiver of excitement running between them.

And that was when Kunpimook’s mask finally began to crack.

He jerked away, stiff, and Yugyeom felt his heart rise into his throat. Surely, surely he wasn’t going-- please not yet, they still hadn’t--

“Let’s get out of here,” Kunpimook’s voice was shaky but then suddenly his slender fingers had found their way around Yugyeom’s wrist, tugging insistently so Yugyeom could only follow, throat still closed off and unable to voice any protest or even question.

Trying not to focus on how cold Kunpimook’s usually warm touch was nearly cutting off his circulation.

It was when they were two blocks out from the bowling alley that Yugyeom finally realized Kunpimook didn’t know where they were going, just blindly marching forward with a stubbornly determined look on his face as if if they kept walking, if they kept pushing forward they’d magically be able to find their way again. He hadn’t looked back at Yugyeom a single time since stepping outside, gaze fixed forward and pulled Yugyeom along behind. And Yugyeom made no effort to catch up, his view of Kunpimook only the back of a carefully styled head.

They weren’t even walking side by side anymore, Yugyeom couldn’t help but think faintly.

~~

Eventually, Kunpimook finally ran out of steam. Or maybe, he had finally come to some sort of a conclusion. Yugyeom honestly didn’t know anymore, it seemed he’d long lost that ability to read the other.

When Kunpimook turned around to face him, his expression was guarded, but with one look at Yugyeom’s face his own immediately collapsed, and he lurched forwards into Yugyeom’s arms.

Yugyeom just barely had enough time to catch him, taking half a step back to steady himself and his newly added burden that was currently attempting to bury his face in Yugyeom’s chest, breaths increasing in both volume and frequency.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Yugyeom didn’t know how else to comfort as he allowed Kunpimook to slot himself into his form, one hand coming up to cradle his head and the other going around to slowly rub his back. “I’m here, it’s okay.”

“Is it really though? It’s not, is it. God, what’s happened to us,” Kunpimook’s words came out choppy, muffled against the fabric of Yugyeom’s shirt. Yugyeom continued to try to soothe him, but Kunpimook seemed to grow only more hysterical. “I love you. I love you so much, and you love me. You love me. So why, why--”

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Yugyeom could only repeat these same words over and over, tightening his hold around the boy in his arms. He tried to keep his voice steady, but a tremor still managed to work its way in. Because what else could he say? Yugyeom no longer had the confidence himself to answer these questions, much less reassure Kunpimook. These words of love were not longer freely given confessions, but frantically repeated chants, an effort to convince.

The only thing Yugyeom could do was to avoid the topic entirely.

Perhaps Kunpimook sensed this, because while his panicky speech ceased, the desperate sobs only came stronger.

~~

When Kunpimook had finally cried himself out, Yugyeom was shaking as well. Slowly, the roles had been reversed; no longer was Kunpimook just leaning on Yugyeom for support, but rather, Yugyeom was clutching onto Kunpimook as if he was his only remaining life line.

Silence.

“Can we...go back?”

The words were whispered, barely audible. Four simple words, conveying an even simpler meaning. To return home, to rest, to address this all another day.

But for Yugyeom, these words were loaded with much heavier meaning. Indeed, could they go back? Was there any feasible way for them to return back to the way they were? They’d lived with the illusion of fairy tales for so long, and yet with just the slightest test of reality, the two of them were already crumbling.

Could they really go back to the way things were before? Were they strong enough, brave enough? To have the wish was not enough, to know of the possible difficulties was not enough. Their current state was proof enough of this fact.

Looking down at the shaking boy in his arms, Yugyeom found himself coming to the final question.

Was their love strong enough to overcome?

~~

“Can we go back nowww?”

~

“Persistence has never been OUR strong suit.”

~

Kunpimook may be the bigger coward by fleeing, but Yugyeom was just as afraid to take that step forward to catch him.

~~

Perhaps, then, it was time to be brave for once.

~~

“Let’s break up.”

Yugyeom wanted to take it back, almost. Because those familiar eyes suddenly seemed to hold that same spark again, and Yugyeom felt a smoldering in the pit of his stomach and his heart lurched, as if learning how to beat in that oh-so familiar pattern again. Syncopated, like their old dance beat as Kunpimook hit on all the counts and Yugyeom’s feet tapped out all the rhythms in between.

But then the moment was gone and they both stepped back, watery eyes reflecting the same understanding, thoughts meeting briefly again on the same wavelength.

The memories were beautiful, perfect, and perhaps it would be better to let them remain as that, to not tarnish it any further by chasing a fruitless ambition. They each cared too much for the other, and forced to choose they could only choose the person over love.

In the end, there was no villain, no coward, no intruder. There was only the unforgiving trials of reality, the cold truth brought by adulthood.

Imagination was endless, but practicality made the world go round.

This kind of innocent love was forever fleeting, simply a momentary daydream.

Evanescent.

～～

在对的时间遇到对的人 那是童话；

在错的时间遇到对的人 才是青春 。

Meeting the right person at the right time, that is a fairytale;

Meeting the right person at the wrong time, that is youth.

~~