When Seungcheol woke up with head full of regret, it wasn’t because the first thing he saw was Jeonghan’s long, blonde hair softly spilled all over the pillows. If that was an image he could hang up on for the eternity, he’d be a happy man. It was the memories of what lead to this situation, and the thumping headache.

Carefully, as to not disturb Jeonghan, he got up from the bed, thankful for sleeping on the edge and not by the wall, and dressed up in the clothes he threw on the floor hastily last evening. The thumping headache passed quite quickly after he treated it with ultra-fast painkillers and water, but when it passed, it only left more room for remorse and second, third, fourth thoughts.

It wasn’t his house, but he ended up at Jeonghan’s so many times already that he knew his way around. That realisation only made him sigh deeply. Memories of the past events have been building up in his head for quite some time already, and he knew that if he didn’t think the entire situation through soon, very soon, he’d end up doing something incredibly stupid and probably dangerous. Knowing that for a fact, he made himself comfortable in an armchair in Jeonghan’s room from which he could watch the sleeping boy and think undisturbed.

Seungcheol heard somewhere that one should always start from the very beginning, so he tried to think about how he and Jeonghan met. They used to attend the same school, and even were classmates on the first year, but they didn’t talk back then. Seungcheol only admired Jeonghan from afar just as one would admire a painting in an off-limits section of an art gallery - sneakily, carefully and without particular fondness. The time for affection came later, when they grew, changed, and met once, twice through their mutual friends, frequented the same parties and naturally drifted towards each other.

The phrase “back then” ran through Seungcheol’s head again. The time that had passed since they started being on closer terms should was counted in months, not in years, but in that period of time so much happened that Seungcheol couldn’t help but separate “back then” and “now” as if those were not months but decades apart. If he was to draw a clear line between those two periods, he would pick the time when Jeonghan bleached his hair, he thought, and almost laughed, because honestly, who counts the time by someone else’s hairstyle? But there was more to it.

Over the span of the few months Jeonghan has changed. Seungcheol was more than aware of how it was all because of him. When it was still “back then”, Seungcheol was a different man, and Jeonghan was drawn to that person. But over the time life hit Seungcheol hard, causing him to change his ways from the nice, but sheepish schoolboy to a troubled youth. A spurge of memories rushed through his head, his father’s shouting voice, his mother’s trembling hands, stolen bottles of alcohol and his own fists curling up and throwing punches at people he barely knew. He shook his head to get rid of those images. No, he didn’t want to think about how he got there. He focused on Jeonghan instead.

Seungcheol was good at keeping the harmless poise, he really was. But Jeonghan was even better at looking through it. During the back then  he developed something between a teenage crush and a desperate affection towards Seungcheol, and he wanted to have as much as possible in common with him.

Jeonghan changed up his surroundings as naturally as a fish changed streams of water. Seungcheol’s and Jeonghan’s mutual friends changed into Seungcheol’s friends that knew Jeonghan’s circles, and then into Seungcheol’s circles that welcomed Jeonghan in the squad. Jeonghan’s awkward jokes and carefree laughter changed into boozed puns and seductive chuckles. Jeonghan’s choir practices changed into nights out in the club. And just like that, Jeonghan’s soft brown locks turned into an ashen blond ponytail.

Once again Seungcheol felt a stir of guilt. Even if Jeonghan spiraled into that life by himself, Seungcheol couldn’t help but feel like the initiator, the main culprit.

Jeonghan had always had this angelic quality to him. Something about his features and the way his long hair enhanced them just screamed “ethereal”, “pure” and “holy”, and his bright laugh and wide smile only made the feeling more intense. His nickname "angel" did come from his birth date, but before it was deepened by his image. Now the same features were more often seen bent in a grimace, lips bitten and bleeding, eyes circled dark, hair sinfully swept back, and the angel seemed more of the fallen kind. How could Seungcheol not feel guilty?

Jeonghan’s sleeping expression was calm and relaxed, and not pained, as if trying to prove to Seungcheol that there is nothing to worry about. For a second, he let himself marvel over Jeonghan’s beauty, but the thought itself brought him back to earth. Admiring Jeonghan was no good. Getting attached was no good. Jeonghan couldn’t end up with anyone of Seungcheol’s sort, or so he told himself. He repeated that like a mantra every time Jeonghan selt him a flirty look.

And yet, once again, he gave in and followed Jeonghan to his room. Once again, relished in how Jeonghan’s hair felt between his fingers and how Jeonghan’s skin felt under his tongue. And once again, he played a part in Jeonghan’s downfall.

Seungcheol pressed the heels of his hands to his eye sockets and resisted the urge to scream. He was being weak and selfish and taking what Jeonghan presented to him on a silver plate even if he knew this only got Jeonghan more hooked on the darker side of life. He promised himself again that he would gather his belongings and leave now, and then give Jeonghan the cold shoulder for however long it took to discourage him completely, but he never actually managed to stand up and leave. Outside, two vigorous dogs started barking and yapping at each other, and Jeonghan first stirred in his sleep, then turned, and then finally opened his eyes.

For a few seconds Jeonghan’s expression was blissfully blank, but then he furrowed his brows, and started looking around, obviously bothered by Seungcheol’s absence. When he finally noticed the older, he broke into a shy smile.

“You didn’t leave,” He stated the obvious, because yes, this time Seungcheol hadn’t run away as soon as he woke up. “That’s nice.”

“I should have.” Seungcheol ruined the mood and put his face back into his hands for a couple of seconds, while Jeonghan propped himself up and leaned against the wall, sitting and facing Seungcheol.

“It’s not true. You’re welcome here. You’d be even more welcome if you gave me some water.” Jeonghan half-chuckled jokingly, but Seungcheol still walked out of the room for a second and came back with a bottle of mineral water.

Jeonghan was shirtless. The pale curve of his collarbone was already bruising up red and blue from where Seungcheol bit and last night. His blonde hair was in disarray, and Jeonghan didn’t even bother fixing it properly. He smiled a faint smile at Seungcheol, when the latter handed him the water.

“Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday,” Seungcheol started, sitting back into the armchair.

“Don’t be,” Jeonghan cut in quickly, getting a deja vu. Was this talk not just like every single other talk they had after they had spent the night together?

“I shouldn’t have came here, and you know that,” Seungcheol pressed his point, falling back into a fixed conversation pattern that happened between them several times already.

“But you still did.” Jeonghan’s voice was stern, but he didn’t dare to tear his eyes away from the bedsheet.

“It’s just really that you deserve… Better than me.” Seungcheol wished he could have pretended that speaking the truth hurt him, but he couldn’t. Since the start he knew he wasn’t a suitable match for the angelic choir boy, and nothing had changed. How could that phrase hurt if he’d repeated it a thousand times in his head? It lost his impact for him, and for Jeonghan probably too, since he snorted bitterly.

“And how can you know that? I want you, Seungcheol, so maybe I do deserve you?” Jeonghan finally lifted his eyes from the bed and stared deep into Seungcheol’s own. He didn’t even blink, until Seungcheol looked away.

“You’ve got the wrong idea about me. You only hold me up like this ‘cause you don’t know who I really am. If you knew, you’d change your mind immediately.” Seungcheol’s words sounded like wallowing in self-pity, but his tone and cold demeanor made it seem more like a grim warning. Just as he wanted.

“Maybe you just really should let me decide about my life?” Seungcheol winced at how aggressive Jeonghan’s tone of voice had gotten. He thought of many possible answers, like for example where deciding about his life had led Jeonghan up until now, or how he was only advising. In the end, he didn’t answer.

“Or maybe you should show me who you really are, then,” Jeonghan added, much more softly, almost apologetically. It was Seungcheol’s turn to snort bitterly. Jeonghan pretended it didn’t offend him. It was now Seungcheol’s turn to deny, Jeonghan’s to insist, Seungcheol’s to quarrel forth and Jeonghan to raise his voice. They knew the scheme too well, so they spared themselves the meaningless words, instead letting silence fall.

“I really should go. I promised Jihoon I will help him out with some stuff for his new project,” Seungcheol broke the silence with a white lie of sorts. He didn’t really promise, he only offered his help and Jihoon didn’t insist on Seungcheol coming.

“He can be pretty scary when he wants to,” Jeonghan admitted with a weak smile. He had only met Jihoon two times, but both of the times he managed to get a glimpse of the shorter pissed off. When smiling, he gave off an aura of a domesticated cat. When angry, though, he gave off an aura of death. Jeonghan exhaled loudly and smiled at the memory.

“Yeah, I don’t want to piss him off.” Seungcheol smiled, remembering how hot tempered Jihoon could be sometimes. Still picturing the fuming, pink haired shortie, he dared to look over at Jeonghan. Their eyes met, and there was a spark of something, but then Jeonghan’s expression changed, and so did Seungcheol’s, and the spark was gone, atmosphere between them too stiff to smile and laugh how they once did.

It pained Seungcheol once again, how he ed up their relationship. For a second, he caught himself hoping that, just as Jeonghan said, they could have something more, form a relationship, and that maybe, maybe Seungcheol could even leave his current life behind. It lasted just for a split second, and then Jeonghan turned his eyes down, and Seungcheol stood up, and started gathering his belongings.

His fingertips were a bit numb, like sometimes just after you wake up, but he knew it was not having to do with the morning, and more with the burning sensation he felt in his neck where Jeonghan drilled holes with his eyes, and with the heat of guilt pooling up in his stomach. He didn’t have more. All the belongings that he brought with him, other than the coat and shoes he noticed before in the hallway, were his belt, wallet that fell out of the jeans’ pocket (keys were still in the other pocket) and his phone, that he could not find. Then, he heard a shutter snap and quiet click behind him. When he turned away, it was Jeonghan with Seungcheol’s phone, taking a picture of the window and the view outside it.

“What? It’s pretty,” He retorted, when Seungcheol passed him a glance somewhere between bewildered and ticked off. Seeing as he had no response to that, he only extended his hand expecting the phone to be given back to him, and Jeonghan complied with an almost guilty half-smile.

Seungcheol wanted to apologise, but he couldn’t find the words or a reason. Instead, he tried to soften his expression. “Don’t forget to close the door behind me.” Jeonghan didn’t even scoff.

Seungcheol tried to not think about how cold his shoes felt, or how the coat laid uncomfortably against his back. Or how the street was weirdly quiet first moment, and then loud with wind whistle and engine hum the other. Or how his heart continued beating fast no matter how much he slowed down his pace, and how his tightly pressed lips were probably the only warm part of his face. Especially not about how he was almost sure the noise he heard just before he closed the doors was Jeonghan’s soft sob.

That was the right thing to do, he told himself. And coming back to Jeonghan’s bed wasn’t. The faster he learned that, the better. He hummed in discontent when the stench of his own tiny apartment hit him in the face, and ignored it. Despite just having slept, he was tired again, and hoping for another nap before Jihoon called, or before the nighttime came and required him to get up and be strong again.

After entering the bedroom, the first thing his eyes fell on were his bed. And then his bedsheets, and then the pillow, and that’s when he noticed it was dirty. In irregular, blocky smudges, there was some yellowish beige, at one part with pink undertones, he found upon closer inspection. But only the smudged black and silver glitter made him realise what the stains were, and the realisation made him throw the pillow on the ground and turn on his heel, and dash to the kitchen, where he kept the gin in the freezer.

It was Jeonghan’s makeup, he screamed in his head, not bothering to mix the gin with anything else, and ignoring the bitterness like he did with the remorse. It was Jeonghan’s makeup from the halloween party almost a week ago, from when he dressed up as an angel, and from when he spent the night at Seungcheol’s, doing things no angel would do. Seungcheol slapped himself mentally, and took a breather between one mouthful and another. At some point he was bound to stop feeling disgusted with himself, just like at some point he stopped feeling the burn of the alcohol, Seungcheol was sure of that, but for now he only took another swig.