Healing. It was a subjective thing, really. Every individual has their own perception of what cures the pain that lingered in their hearts. Sometimes it took a day to look past the hurt, to get out from bed without feeling the same stab in your chest, to walk without losing sight because of the pooling water that pricked your eyes. Other times it took a lifetime.

But if you’re lucky, it wasn’t time that would fill the hole haunting your soul. It would be a touch, a look, a presence, a kiss.

I wasn’t quite sure if my heart had completely healed yet. I couldn’t quite put a measure to how much it had mended itself, or how much more mending it needed. But I couldn’t stand to see myself in such a state anymore. I was bound to be broken down somehow, sometime in my life. It first happened when I was twelve, and it’ll happen again and again until God decided I’ve had enough. All I wanted was to just accept it and go on as if it didn’t pain me all that much. But my undoing was the fact that it was Baekhyun. The same Baekhyun that I trusted.

But you see, that’s the thing about trust – it was meant to be broken.

The shards of the broken glass cut me open and carved patterns on my skin, like pretty vines crawling up my body. Yet, even in my dying breath, I told myself that the frame was still there, that although putting the pieces back together wouldn’t give me the same reflection, it would still be the image I wanted to see. All I had to do was mend the mirror, treat the cuts, heal my soul.

Except I didn’t need to do it alone this time. I didn’t have to pour over the cracks with my tears, hoping that it would magically glue the pieces back together as if it never cracked in the first place. An angel was sent to me, with hands warm and eyes clear. When his hands ghosted over my skin, the pain drifted away in fractions. It was as if his wings wrapped around my hunched figure, with some kind of divine power taking away the ache and breathing new life into me. And I welcomed the angel’s touch, just as I welcomed the cure that dulled out the pain.

Chanyeol held me when I lay in pieces, and listened when all I could get out were sobs. He took the pieces and put them back together, even if it cut him as well. That same baritone voice kept me from bleeding out my heart on my pillow each night, and soothed the agony that ate at my being. He cured me with whispers of tenderness and affection, and slowly, I healed. Still a little fragile, still brittle, but all the more put together.

So many nights had passed before I found the courage to walk up these flight of stairs. My knees shook with each step I took, and a lump settled itself in my windpipe, like a mountain of sand that made it impossible for me to lubricate my throat. I decided that I had healed enough to confront my demons, and so I made my way that morning to Baekhyun’s apartment, ready to put everything behind me and start rebuilding that mirror again. The patting of my boots on the carpet of the hallway was silent to the beating of my heart, pounding against the cages of my ribs. Was this doubt? Or was it just my heart telling me I needed more healing?

I turned the corner and in a breath. It was like weights had been tied to my legs, halting me from getting any closer to uncertainty and possibly, heartbreak. But I didn’t want that. No, I wanted to heal myself and the only way I could completely do that was to forgive him. And so I willed my feet forward, and I didn’t care that I had to drag the weights along with me.

Right. Left. Right again. Just a little more. Right.

I raised my hand, slowly closing it into a fist. I held it just above the surface of the dark wooden door, halting there like time had paused. I ran through the lines I planned to say, making sure the voice in my head sounded resolute because I sure as hell knew that my own wouldn’t. Just as I moved to rap on the wood, the door was pulled open. The face that haunted my mind was now right in front of me, staring back with wide eyes and an agape mouth.

“H-hey.”

I wasn’t sure who said it first, or if either of us even said it.

“We need to talk. Can I come in?” I got out, and he bore his eyes into mine for a longer than usual before nodding and pulling the door wider. My feet brought me to the sofa just as it had been programmed to over the past few years, but I caught myself before I could plop myself on the sofa. I had to do this. For me, and for him. And so instead of sinking into the sofa as I normally would’ve, I stood, leaning my weight onto my left leg and occasionally shifting it to the other. I had my arms crossed across my torso, placed convenient enough so I hold myself together so I wouldn’t fall apart again.

He turned the lock behind him and turned to me. “Listen—“ I started but he cut me off. “Why haven’t you picked up my calls?” The words I wanted to say suddenly lodged itself in my throat and I stared bewildered at him. “Excuse me?” He raked his hand through his hair, the black messing up under his fingers, before throwing his hand out of it and letting his arm swing violently. “You haven’t talked to me in days. Reject my calls and never answer my texts. Do you know how worried sick I’ve been?” My eyes never shifted, and I glared at him, a slow fire enclosing my body. His lips were still moving, but all I could hear was the rushing of blood in my ears. “Why would you just cut yourself off like that? Didn’t we promise to have each other’s back? That was so ing irresponsible of you. How could you keep me in the dark?” Baekhyun was gasping a little after his rush of words. He stopped pacing and lowered himself onto the armchair, dropping his head weakly between his hands. He kept his head down before he whispered the words, though he may as well have been spitting it in my face, because it wasn’t like it would hurt any less. “I thought we were best friends.”

That did it.

I strode over to him, making sure I stood just before him so he could see from my boots how close I was to him, and how damned serious I was. I looked down on his head of black. “Well, that’s ing rich coming from the best friend who kept things from me, isn’t it.” He raised his head at the statement, and I could see the shift in his eyes, which only fueled my anger. “How could I? How could you!” I could already feel the tears prick at the back of my eyes, but I wanted to make sure I said all I wanted to before I broke. “You didn’t tell me, Baek. You didn’t ing tell me. But you brought me to the gala, paraded me around as your date, then you—“ I choked. He immediately rose to his feet and I turned away instinctively, slapping a hand over my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me sob. I steeled myself and faced him once more, but not before stepping back and giving myself space away from him.

“You almost kissed me, Baek.”

He looked away in what looked like shame, and it felt like the knife lodged in my heart dug itself deeper. “You leaned in, then you said sorry.” He remained motionless, and I turned my back on him, looking instead outside at the skyline of the city through his tall windows. The world outside looked so serene, so beautifully peaceful, so unlike the chaos inside me.

I didn’t know how long we just st