The flowers sitting near Hakyeon's window are rotten by now – just like his heart, as he likes to dramatically say, dried out by the sunlight filtering through the glass. There's dust floating in the air, enlightened by the beams, falling down to sit on Hakyeon's hair and body lying on the bed. Maybe if he stays like this a little longer, dust could cover him and make him fossilize; then he wouldn't have to deal with sadness anymore. Maybe if he sinks in his bed, he could even choke to death and his heart wouldn't ache so much; it wouldn't ache anymore. Beyond the window, the weather is nice: it's May already and flowers are blossoming everywhere under the mild warmth of the sun, everything is bright and beautiful outside, but Hakyeon just wants to linger a bit longer, why not forever, if only he could. Around him times seems to pass by slowly, frozen in a heart-wrecking dullness, his energy out of his body.

His stomach growls. It's half past one and Hakyeon starts to be hungry, but the mere thought of getting out of bed and walk in the flat makes his eyes tear up again. Everything out there bears memories of now faltered love and lost happiness, and he doesn't feel strong enough yet to confront them, to toss them aside and throw them in the junk. He hears from afar his phone ringing a couple of times; probably friends trying to contact him. He doesn't want to talk to them either. Nobody could comfort him anyway.

Eventually he hears his front being opened from the outside, and someone stepping inside. He is fairly sure to know who it is just by the sound of his steps. He shuts his eyes close. 

His bedroom door is opened and he feels a weight on the side of his bed, as well as slender fingers ruffling through his dusty hair. It makes him want to cry, for the first time in a while. His throat hurts and so does his heart, tightening his chest as if to wreck him, as if the break-up didn't do properly its job a week ago.

His strands are greasy and he's pretty sure he stinks, but it doesn't seem to repel the man seated next to his curled up body, his head and humming lightly a soothing lullaby.

"Taekwoon," he croaks after a little while, opening his reddened yes. "How did you get here?"

He half expects his friend not to answer, because in nearly eight years of friendship, Taekwoon has never said much things – and certainly not how he managed to trespass in Hakyeon's house whenever the latter needed him even without being asked. However this time Taekwoon decides to reply.

"You always leave your hidden key at the same place."

Hakyeon snorts. "I should've known."

"Take a shower," Taekwoon commands him, getting up all of a sudden to go to the kitchen.

Hakyeon doesn't want to, but he knows his recovery process is already beginning, and this since Taekwoon stepped in his flat. Break-ups are Taekwoon's deal since their freshmen year, six months after befriending each other. He has a way of making Hakyeon move on that proved his efficiency many times, starting by taking a hot shower and eating a healthy meal.

When he comes out of the shower, Hakyeon grabs Taekwoon's hoodie that he kindly let on the bed for him and a pair of sweatpants; the full post-break-up outfit. Taekwoon's laundry smells like happy times to him, and it shields him from the other scents and memories dispersed all around the flat. There's a smell of a freshly cooked meal floating in the air and he steps in the kitchen with a tiny smile, towel on his head. 

"Taekwoon-ah,” he calls out, resting his chin on the other's shoulder – which is actually a bit hard considering the few inches taller Taekwoon is – “I’m hungry."

Taekwoon doesn't say anything. Instead, he feeds Hakyeon some chicken and vegetables that are in the pan, ready to be served. He grabs a bowl with hot rice, placing the meat above, before giving it to him.

"Thank you,” Hakyeon smiles, thankfully taking the bowl out of his hands.

They eat in silence, because usually it's Hakyeon doing the talking, and he doesn't feel like it today. However, in Taekwoon's soft silences and the bites he gives him, Hakyeon can read support; it's enough for him to start healing, just one bit. 

After lunch, they decide to clean all the flat up. As much as it hurts, Hakyeon knows perfectly that's what he is supposed to do: getting rid of all the stuff from the past. They spend their day doing just that, putting stuff into boxes and cleaning the floor. At some point, Hakyeon tells Taekwoon everything about the break up; Taekwoon listens to him attentively, occasionnally slipping a few hums to show his attention. He has heard all sort of these stories before, each one slightly different from the other, and each time they give him the urge to hold Hakyeon in his arms until he would feel good and happy again.

They throw away the rotten flowers, and Taekwoon goes downtown to buy him some others.

They end up their day lying on Hakyeon's bed, blankets freshly changed. Hakyeon likes to toss around and rest his head on Taekwoon's belly.

"Thanks for coming,” he shyly mutters, hiding his mouth in the collar of his hoodie.

Taekwoon pats his head as a sign for "you're welcome".

"I wish I could stop feeling everything altogether. So that I wouldn't need people's company so much."

Taekwoon curls his fingers around his strands.

"I wish I could be done searching for love... I always end up falling hard."

He groans in frustration, sitting on the bed to look at Taekwoon who is peacefully lying on the covers. 

"I am so done with love right now,” he decides, plopping back to rest his head on the other's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Taekwoon knows it isn't true, and that in a few months, a few weeks even, Hakyeon will start to fancy someone again. As much as it can hurt him, the pain isn't as hard to bear as in freshman year anymore, and Taekwoon has learned thorough the year to step aside and watch from afar whenever Hakyeon would happen to become someone's instead of his. Eventually, the feeling remains, but is soothed as time passes by and as Taekwoon gets to be on Hakyeon's side. He perfectly knows it's hopeless to think of his friend that way, and he just waits for his love to fade away.

Hakyeon falls asleep on his heart, both literally and figuratively, and in either way it doesn't bother him. He plays with a few strands, curling them up in his fingers. He wants to say something, talking his heart out to a sleeping Hakyeon, but even if he knows the other wouldn't hear him, he can't yet express properly what he's feeling; even after eight years, the confession he's been rehearsing since his freshman year is still stuck in the back of his throat. 

Outside, the sky is clear and the light dim. He looks at the white rosebuds resting near the window. Hakyeon shifts into his slumber, frowning. He kisses tenderly his forehead.

White roses - Respect, innocence; secret love and resignation.