Breathe
Daehyun/Youngjae, original story, soundtrack

In all honesty, to Daehyun, it was somewhat like the stopping of breath when he left. It was the ripping of cords affixed to a respirator which he had laid beside feebly, bones battered by the ravenous fears of what tomorrow had in store and breaths shallow as the tension persisted like an unshakable silhouette. Their relationship was much like tiptoeing amidst a minefield of misunderstandings and mercilessness, one misstep to set off a bloodbath of wounds to cripple them a lifetime. They would not survive, Daehyun knew clearly; they were just a time bomb waiting to blow as the future closed in. It was a decision Daehyun had made on his own to end once and for all the turmoil clawing at his sanity, but when he had detached himself, he'd only realised then that he was never connected to an unfeeling, lifeless machine. He'd been bound to a boy who kept him alive, who he kept alive.

He had killed Youngjae along with himself and there was no going back. Daehyun swears it had felt as though half of his soul had been ripped to shreds, but he'd chosen this route for himself so he had to brace the outcome. It was impossible to turn around when his footsteps had burned the road he'd been striding on. He'd woken up countless of times soaked in perspiration, the remnant of Youngjae's name on his lips dissolving into tears and anguished yells. He spent days cooped up in his room, drifting into his thoughts and the burn of Youngjae's laugh lingering on his lips. Often, he would stagger to the phone and dial Youngjae's number, begging him to take him back only to cut the call and crumble with the awareness that he was the one who left. He'd taken the bus back to their college several times, some on purpose, others completely unintentional. But naturally, he had ran before he even caught a glimpse of Youngjae.

He couldn't bring himself to see Youngjae again because he did not deserve him at all. Daehyun was a bastard who had ditched Youngjae without warning. He had considered telling him but his silence was ultimately a selfish decision for his own sake. If Youngjae could make Daehyun rip up his withdrawal form with simply a smile, he would definitely be incapable of leaving once Youngjae asked him to stay. The most ironic thing was that he couldn't even recall a fraction of the terror that had haunted him with this new magnitude of torture wrecking him.

Perhaps it was the memories which ran deep into his veins that left him such a pitiful mess, relentless and unsympathetic. He'd tried to scrape them out with the repeatedly uttered rationale that it was for the best, but they had long manifested within his blood and became a part of him. It wasn't the reminiscences, however, that kept him up in the night as he worried over a million illogical scenarios. No, Daehyun did not think of the boy who sneaked through the back door to hand him his textbook, who ran out at three in the morning to get him paracetamol, who fisted his shirt in his sleep and left nail marks below his collar. He thought of Youngjae, in all his indescribable, undefinable essence.

How was he? Did he sleep well? Was he eating regularly? Were lessons tiring him out? Where was he? It was exhausting to brim with questions revolving around a boy he learnt a tad bit too late that he cared for more than himself. A part of him, unbelievable as it was, wanted to know if Youngjae missed him and hoped that maybe Youngjae would forgive him if he came back.

Daehyun broke seven days in. The shame and remorse restrained him from meeting Youngjae again, thus he seeked Jongup out. Truthfully, he'd been aware for a long time that Jongup knew he and Youngjae were more than friends. Jongup had never said a word, but there was always this unmistakable frown whenever he and Youngjae touched.

The look of distrust etched in Jongup's eyes had dissipated into silent understanding and unasked questions as Daehyun explained, weary tears scratched into his face and shaky hands handing back the cap he'd borrowed from Youngjae. Jongup had fidgeted, sighing lightly, and divulged how Youngjae was coping. In Daehyun's self-absorbed wallowing, he'd forgotten that Youngjae took the brunt of what he did. To hear Youngjae was refusing to eat and shutting everyone out made the regret mangle him like fingers around his neck. The knowledge that he'd not only destroyed himself but had done the exact same damage to Youngjae strangled out the last of his breath and he pleaded desperately with Jongup to be the bridge he'd voluntarily set fire to.

Jongup agreed. Daehyun remembers Jongup turning back just before he left, opening his mouth and closing it again in thought.

"I wanted to warn you, but I had a bad feeling it would end up like this."

It was a rickety set-up, but they made it work. Jongup became Daehyun's eyes and arms, phoning him to tell him how Youngjae was doing and taking care of Youngjae for him. They met every week, sometimes twice or thrice if Daehyun managed to push for it, and Jongup would talk about Youngjae and pass on the gifts Daehyun bought for Youngjae. Daehyun lived for those moments. He cut back on his expenses just so he could get something nice for Youngjae. Records, novels, concert tickets, camera straps, whatever came to mind, Daehyun would buy instantly. His entire mood for the week depended on whether or not Youngjae got back his appetite and if Youngjae seemed healthier and happier.

It became almost foreign and bewildering as time passed to have had Youngjae once in his grasp, chatting and chortling. On that fateful day just before the dawn of winter, Daehyun's heart had stopped at Jongup's call. It'd been the day of his finals, yet he had bolted out of his dorm room, cursing everything that got in his way as he barrelled down to the subway station for the next train to Seoul. He hadn't even noticed he was crying till a little girl handed him a tissue, stopping him in his frantic stride.

Please be okay, Daehyun had chanted deliriously as he stumbled through the throng of people. Prayers and quells turned into self-hating shrieks and masochistic fingers drawing blood from his arms but his legs didn't stop, combing every single place he and Youngjae used to frequent. The run-down arcade they crashed the first time they had skipped school, garnering strange looks from middle school children; the warm porridge store Youngjae would bring Daehyun to whenever winter hit; the musty theatre they had their first awkward date at; these memories were scorched into the fabric of his aching sinews. The early winter breeze had scraped at his skin as he continuously sprinted through the streets. There was no room left to think about the exam waiting for him thirty minutes away from where he was, undone and holding a year's worth of efforts. He would gladly give up a year of his life, everything for Youngjae to be safe.

Daehyun swore that day he'd kill himself if Youngjae did anything to harm himself. This was all his fault. Everything was his fault; he'd torn Youngjae down with his bare hands and left him so broken. The relief that grappled at him was immense and knee-buckling when Jongup called him again, saying he'd found Youngjae on the roof of their dorm building and managed to placate him to sleep. It turned out he hadn't been the only one sobbing when he heard Jongup's voice quaver, soft sniffles barely audible over the phone.

"I hate you, hyung," Jongup had breathed out before the beeping sound followed.

Daehyun hated himself too.

When Youngjae's graduation came around, Jongup met up with him for the last time. He cut to the chase and said there was no way he could continue what he was doing. Daehyun wanted to hold on but even as he entreated, he knew it wasn't possible. He bought dinner for Jongup, a small token of thanks incomparable to the gratitude Daehyun felt.

"Let go of him, hyung. Please."

They parted ways afterwards, promising to keep in contact. Daehyun had fully realised that night how much of a monster he was. He'd put Youngjae through so much pain and strung Jongup along for the ride, all for his self-centered wishes. He made up his mind that he would finally accept that he had foolishly given up one of the best things that had ever happened to him and the consequences that came with it.

It was an understatement to say Daehyun tried. He spent years incapacitated, plagued with questions that were left cruelly unanswered. A life in the bustling city of Seoul wasn't enough to keep him occupied because Youngjae had, since a long time ago, taken residence in the recesses of his mind and his head couldn't evict the one person who lived so closely with his heinous demons. Youngjae fed them, let them grow in Daehyun's nightmares in the form of undeserving embraces with the boy he'd killed, and kept alive that atrocious part of him which ridiculously had the nerve to hope.

All irrational, nothing sober like the day they'd kissed for the first time (lies, he'd always dreamt of doing that), unfounded thoughts of what ifs and maybes. If his wounds were physical and he showed Youngjae how much he bled during the seasons without him, would he at least gift him with a smile to alleviate the pain? Would he sew up his gashes with whispers and kind acknowledgement? Daehyun even walked the longer way home on the off chance he'd meet Youngjae by coincidence, but even destiny deemed him unworthy and forbid him to.

Everything reminded him of Youngjae. He bought transparent umbrellas because Youngjae enjoyed watching the rain roll down the canopy. He ordered green tea at lunches even though he never genuinely liked the drink. He started biting his nails just to see the imprints which reminded him of Youngjae's fingers. Daehyun had been shattered and buried in the past, sitting amongst fragments of his sin and holding on to a ludicrous, unjustifiable hope that would never come true.

Daehyun needed to see Youngjae one last time. He had to stop holding on to the grains of their relationship he had crushed, gather the few remaining tangible pieces of him and move on. He needed to tell Youngjae how sorry he was, how disgusting he was to have done such a thing, how much he regretted it and how it'll be the one mistake that cost him so much he'll never be able to forget it for the rest of his life.

He'd been harbouring a wound he deluded himself into believing it would heal on its own. All he wanted was to see Youngjae happy, safe and healthy without him to dash all his hopes and lingering feelings, putting his unsettled spirit to rest.

But when Daehyun saw Youngjae, for the first time in those excruciating six years, he knew at that very instant there was no way he could let go. The world suddenly became lucid within his grubby fingers and he'd been flung back to the moments they spent with their hands interlocked thrashing perpetually in the back of his head. After more than half a decade of being lost, he'd found all the answers in that split second his eyes locked with Youngjae's.

You're still as beautiful.

Daehyun loved Youngjae. He wanted him. He needed him. Living without him was as good as being dead. He'd fallen too deep into the pits of hell and let the fiend inside him breed unceasingly, and it was all out of his absurd love he threw away with one fatal mistake. Daehyun had absolutely no right to even think he wanted Youngjae in his life because it had been his inexcusable decision to set fire to their bond. Yet he couldn't help but yearn like a mad man after a hallucination that never was.

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

He was selfish. He was sickening. He was a straight-out bastard. He didn't deserve Youngjae for all eternities to come. How could he even think about getting him back? He would only imprison Youngjae with the obsession (love) he could never conquer. But he loved Youngjae, all the way to the brink of insanity.

Which was why when Youngjae ran, Daehyun chased after him.