Don't tell the world what we've known 
We've come so far, but there's still a ways to go 
It's dark; there's no need for light 
When the fire in his eyes is so bright

This boy's in love, love 
This boy's in love, under the city, under the city lights

The Presets - This Boy's In Love

//

Jihoon stretches, still half-asleep, and rolls over, fingers grasping in the sheets for the warm body he fell asleep next to, the person he loves the most.

He finds nothing but the blanket tangled around his legs.

He sits up abruptly, hair sticking up, eyes full of sleep and he rubs them to clear them but no, there’s still no Jiho – his room is conspicuously absent of the other man.

But Jihoon’s senses don’t lie. The smell of Jiho is everywhere – on the sheets, on the blanket, on Jihoon himself. He can still taste him.

So where is he?

//

What have I done? Is all Jiho is thinking as he paces up and down the tiny dorm kitchen, barefooted and rumpled from the night. What did I do?

He needn’t ask himself, however; the images are there for the taking, in his head, overwhelming him: Jihoon’s smirk as he ran his fingers down Jiho’s chest; the way Jihoon looked as he bent his head; the noise he made when Jiho entered him; the way he tasted so safe and warm –

He gasps, panting in the cool morning air of the kitchen. This is too much, just too much. He grabs his keys from the counter and leaves, almost running to try and get away from it all.

He doesn’t see Jihoon standing in the doorway of the kitchen, that look on his face.

//

Jihoon’s first thought is to go after Jiho, to chase him down the street and drag him back to the dorm so they can talk about this, but then he remembers how mad Jiho can get, how poisonous his words can be, and he stops, his heart shattering into a million pieces and falling onto the tiled kitchen floor.

He looks down and through his tears can see the pieces of his heart, the raw, bloody pieces of tissue on the floor, the blood splattered across the kitchen island and his eyes close and he’s falling backwards onto the tiles

//

Head ringing, blurry faces, one of them is Taeil hyung, what is Taeil doing here at Jihoon’s little death? He laughs and the room spins and he falls back into blackness.

//

The voices are what he can hear first. One of them is Kyung’s nasally whine, the other Taeil’s soprano lilt.

“What happened? You just found him like that, on the kitchen floor?” Kyung asks. Jihoon can tell he is frowning, he can hear it in his voice.

“Yeah. He had fainted, Jiho had gone, and the door was wide open.” Taeil responds, and Jihoon feels a cool hand on his forehead.

“Did they have a fight or something? I mean, Jihoonie’s fainted before, but the door being open and Jiho gone is pretty… odd.” Kyung questioned.

“I don’t know. Jiho’s not answering his phone, but we have a pretty good idea of where he is. Yukwon went over to the studio to get him.”

Jihoon’s eyes snap open and instantly Kyung, leaning against the doorway, notices.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” He grins widely, showing no sympathy.

Jihoon has fainted before. He knows the feeling of waking up with a pounding headache and a rolling stomach, so he doesn’t try to sit up. Instead he reaches for the glass of water sitting on the nightstand, gulps it down in one go.

“What the hell happened?” Taeil asks, the concern on his face evident. Jihoon feels a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to faint and scare the other two.

“I don’t know,” he lies. “I guess it’s because I skipped dinner last night and was drinking. You guys know I faint sometimes.” He avoids their eyes.

He ignores the ache in his chest where his heart was before Jiho ripped it out and threw it across the kitchen.

//

The next few weeks are hell, for the both of them.

Twice Jihoon has tried to talk to Jiho about what happened, and twice he had been ignored or told to off.

Twice Jihoon had approached Jiho, and twice Jiho was torn at the sight of him, and so twice Jihoon was driven away.

They were miserable.

//

The studio is safe. It’s home. Especially now.

The couch has practically become his bed now – he rarely sleeps at the dorm anymore. The night he and Jihoon spent together has tainted his bed, tainted the whole dorm. So he sleeps here.

Or doesn’t sleep.

Rather he replays that night in his head, over and over again, hearing Jihoon whispering to him, wanting him so badly he aches but then he remembers he isn’t a ing and is disgusted with himself.

homo queen is what he tells himself, knows his reputation would be ruined if he admitted it to himself for one second, that terrible secret that he hates.

He loves Jihoon.

He wants Jihoon.

He wants Jihoon here, in the studio with him, just being himself, filling the room with his essence, holding Jiho at night, kissing him on the forehead and telling him it will all be okay.

He wants Jihoon here, grasping at his shirt, undoing his belt buckle, taking Jiho into his mouth, making Jiho moan his name.

Jiho rolls over and punches the pillow.

//

The dorm is safe. It’s home. Especially now.

Especially that Jiho has made it perfectly clear what he thinks of Jihoon, made it perfectly clear what he thinks of the night they spent together (Jihoon wondered if Jiho had included “ ” in Tough Cookie to send him a message. If so, he had got it loud and clear).

The others know something is gravely wrong, and how could they not? The maknae and the leader barely speak any more, and Jiho hasn’t been seen around the dorm in days.

Jihoon is lying on Jiho’s bed, which smells stale but somehow also like Jiho and Jihoon wants to drown in it. He can’t do this anymore, can’t go on lying to himself that he doesn’t love Jiho, can’t pretend that he even has a chance with Jiho.

That doesn’t mean he can’t stop thinking about him, though.