How long had it been? Three years?

Youngjae was bright like the sunshine and Daehyun liked the beautiful sparkle of his brown eyes. He was like an artwork whose beauty could be seen by many, but no one was allowed to touch. Daehyun saw him first when things were new. Youngjae had the most uncommon glow when he moved his bow against the strings of his violin—the glow that made him seemed faraway, unreachable. He closed his eyes as the beautiful sound of his violin echoed inside the empty concert hall, and Daehyun felt at that moment Youngjae was the center of the earth’s gravity.

Three years ago. The gravity was too strong to defy and Daehyun let himself fall.

The door in front of Daehyun opened, and there he was, the soft beauty who had Daehyun’s heart in the palm of his hands. He had been seeing the clear brown orbs almost everyday in three years, but in every single stare they managed to give him another reason to lost all over again.

And today was that one day when the light in those doe eyes were dim like the sky when it’s about to rain. Daehyun wondered what was the reason this time, but he just smiled when their eyes met. Youngjae’s jet black hair was messy, his clothes wrinkled, and from that Daehyun knew he had just laid down or woken up from a nap.

“Why are you all wet again, Daehyun, I said put an umbrella in your car.” That was a sign for Daehyun to come inside, and although he sounded grumpy, that was how he showed concern.

Daehyun liked to see how Yongjae curled up inside pillows and blankets nest that he build in front of the TV when it’s cold and rainy outside. His head was the only thing showed up and his nose got all red from the cold. He liked the smell of warm honey lemon tea and Daehyun was usually the one who made it for him.

For most people, Youngjae was confusing. He looked tiny and fragile but actually he had a very strong personality. He looked weak and clumsy but actually he’s one of the most independent person Daehyun ever known. For most people, even for Daehyun, Youngjae’s mood and feeling were confusing. When he loved, when he hated, even when he didn’t feel anything at all, Daehyun could only guess and sometimes his guess were wrong.

After three years Daehyun still didn’t understand Youngjae.

All Daehyun knew was something that felt like a pleasant pain in his lower chest everytime Youngjae was around. How it felt good when Youngjae could laugh because of Daehyun’s lame jokes. How it’s comforting to hear the sound of his breath when he fell asleep when he read his novels. How it’s fulfilling even just from the grunts he made as answers when Daehyun whispered love words to his ear. And the list continued, even Daehyun could remember every little things like how Youngjae squinted his eyes under the strong heat of the sun in summer days.

After three years, Youngjae was still the center of Earth’s gravity.

Daehyun sat down beside the pile of blankets on the carpeted floor, not too close because Youngjae was a big believer of personal space.

It was eight at night, it was raining outside and the TV showed a barely interesting cooking show. Youngjae was closing his eyes, with a First Phonecall from Heaven novel on his chest. Daehyun smiled. Youngjae was a book freak and he treated his books like treasures—neatly wrapped in transparent plastic cover with unexistent wrinkles.

Daehyun loved it when Youngjae reads. He forgot the time, he even forgot to eat and bathe. He reads like the book consumed him, sometimes Daehyun had to pull his hand from his mouth because Youngjae tend to bite his nails when the story had drowned him.

“Have you had dinner?” Daehyun asked. Youngjae only responded with a low grunt, that meant no, he hadn’t.

“Are you coming down with fever?” Daehyun came closer to put the back of his hand on Youngjae’s neck, checking on his temperature. Youngjae grunted in discomfort as he scooted further, and it broke Daehyun’s heart a little.

Three years, and Youngjae still didn’t fancy Daehyun touching him.

“I will make you soup.”

“No, I don’t want it.”

Daehyun knew that Youngjae was in one of those mood when he’s being difficult—he got angry when he’s being accompanied but he didn’t like being alone. Daehyun had stayed in this kind of moods long enough to know that it’s better to keep some distant for him to sulk and hate the world, but not too far so he could still reach for Daehyun when he needed anything.

But this time, Daehyun knew something was off. Youngjae’s eyes were a little bit puffy and he hadn’t look Daehyun on the eyes long enough for him to observe. Daehyun knew that Youngjae had cried, and that was the reason why Daehyun didn’t bother to grab his jacket and drive straight to Youngjae’s apartment.

Three years, and that person could still make Youngjae cried himself to sleep.

Youngjae never told Daehyun about that person but Daehyun was sure that Youngjae knew he knew. The major heartbreak, the massive pain, the bleeding wounds that haven’t even start to heal. The amount of love they ever shared, all the imperfections and rough edges—all the star-crossed lover phrase that came true, all bad timing and love that wore off, also the presence of another heart who bore the same pain.

Daehyun knew, and he was stupid enough to stay despite everything that was happening, and everything that would happen.

Daehyun liked to think that Youngjae would get better. That the heartache he hide would surely disappear one day, and the wound Daehyun tried so badly to silently treat would someday heal and leave no scars. But Daehyun forgot that when a heart breaks, they went beyond repair—as it was a fragile thing that human being always failed to protect.

Daehyun learned it the hard way, that no matter how badly he wanted to heal Youngjae’s wound, Daehyun opened himself to the same amount of pain.

Jaebum and Youngjae had broken up in silence—no unnecessary dramas, no hard feeling. But Youngjae was hurt, Daehyun knew, and Jaebum was too.

“Can I come closer?” Daehyun asked. There were silence for a few seconds and Daehyun thought Youngjae was sleeping. But then the latter nodded, scooting his body a little to make space for Daehyun to fit in his blanket nest.

Slowly, Daehyun came closer and wrapped his lower body with the same blanket that Youngjae used. He was so careful so Youngjae wouldn’t get annoyed, it wasn’t everyday Youngjae wanted him to be that close.

“Can I hold you?” the questions were a form of respect that Daehyun sincerely thought Youngjae deserved, because he was in no position to do it to the younger man anytime he wanted. Youngjae was his lover, yes, Daehyun had persistently believed so.

But who was he kidding? Youngjae didn’t return his kisses, Youngjae never said ‘I love you’ back. Daehyun wasn’t a really lover for Youngjae. He was a compromise. Youngjae was so close to him yet so far. The distance between them couldn’t be measured by meters, but there were a long and undeniable barrier between them that Daehyun tried so hard to repulse.

Youngjae’s body was warm when Daehyun slided his one hand under his neck, and it sent a jolt of pain to Daehyun’s heart when Youngjae automatically curled up to his chest as if it was a shield he could use to protect himself from all bad things in the world.

Daehyun wanted to be Youngjae’s shield, damn, he was willing to settle for anything, just anything to be able to stay close to the distant warmth inside his embrace.

Three years, and Daehyun still could not win any place inside his heart.

When Youngjae cried, Daehyun knew that he had admitted his defeat. For three years he had been quiet about all the heartache and tried to bear the pain on his own. But today, Youngjae didn’t even want to fight.

Daehyun wanted so badly to be the one who heal Youngjae, the one who hold him close and love him so much that he had no other option but to be happy. Damn, why would happiness even a choice for someone as beautiful as Youngjae?

Yoo Youngjae deserved the world, and Daehyun wanted to give him even more.

“Tell me what is wrong?”

Youngjae didn’t answer, but his body shook with violent sobs as he cried to Daehyun’s chest. Daehyun wrapped his arm tighter around the younger man, hoping that t