Jongdae doesn't warm the bed as he used to. Although the two men are only inches apart, Baekhyun feels as if there are worlds between them. He wishes he could curl his body into the younger's and wrap his arms around the other man's waist to retain some warmth, but he can't bring himself to shift any closer.

Baekhyun almost wishes he hated this: the loss of emotion, the lack of infatuation, the hollow void in his heart that lent a dull look to his eyes. There's a vague sense of guilt, but he can't even redeem himself by missing the love he once felt for the man lying beside him. Baekhyun doesn't miss the way his heart felt unburdened at the mere sight of Jongdae's smile. He doesn't wish his mind still spun when their hands brushed. And the numbness is slowly driving him insane. He feels more husk than human when he's with Jongdae. A ghost of cheerful memories and the broken promise of a future that they can no longer have together. Every forced peck on the lips before leaving for work feels wrong, and every strained smile makes the next one so much harder.

Baekhyun would have left months ago if not for the fact that Jongdae's feelings remained as potent as in the beginning. They both knew that the both of them sensed Baekhyun's dissipating passion. Yet neither would acknowledge it for fear of breaking the other. Baekhyun may not love the other man anymore, but he wasn't a monster. He knew Jongdae would be destroyed if he left him. And Baekhyun had cared enough about him to stay. He had been scared enough to stay.

Up until now.

A third point had been added to the single line of Baekhyun and Jongdae's relationship.

Baekhyun knew he was only setting back the inevitable pain the longer he stayed. The longer he pretended nothing had changed, the deeper the scars in their hearts would be. But now he had found a way out. An excuse to leave.

And it terrifies Baekhyun how relieved he is about an excuse so heartless as his.

That is why it feels like there are chains around his chest as he struggles to lift himself from the bed just as the sun has started peeking over the horizon.

It’s why he can’t tear his eyes off of his boyfriend, curled around the balled-up comforter with sheets twisted around his ankles. (Jongdae had always been a blanket hog, unless Baekhyun poked him awake and complained that he was keeping the quilt all to himself. Then he’d give it up in an instant. He wouldn’t even complain, the selfless bastard.)

It's why his ankles feel like they are leaden with weights as he tiptoes across the ratty carpet (they bought it because it was the cheapest one, even though Baekhyun had wanted something plush) hardly daring to breathe, because Jongdae has never been a very heavy sleeper.

And as he pads out of the tiny bedroom, down the hallway, and into the coat closet to fetch a bag and suitcase of possessions he had hidden away earlier that week, the guilt starts to set in. It trickles in ever so slowly, like a crack in a dam that begins to leak. It’s small enough for Baekhyun to ignore as he hefts the bag over a shoulder, nearly yelping at the sudden weight.

Baekhyun creeps into the little kitchen he has shared with Jongdae for nearly two years. Even in the dark, he knows the place he’s called home well enough to maneuver silently to the counter on which the coffee maker rests. The crack is widening into a fissure. It claws at his stomach with blunt fingernails.

He delves into his sweatpants’ pocket, fingertips brushing against the little square of folded paper jammed into the bottom. It can’t be heavier than a few grams, but it might as well be a gold bar for the difficulty with which Baekhyun takes it out.

It won’t hurt so bad once you’ve done it. Baekhyun tells himself. His fingers won’t cooperate. Just put it on the goddamn counter. Stop hurting yourself. Stop hurting Jongdae.

And so he reaches out and sets the note on the countertop, gingerly, as if it’s a bomb. It’s right beside the coffee maker. Baekhyun expected relief from the simple action, but all he feels is shame. It grips his lungs in an unyielding vice, threatening to suffocate him. Jongdae doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to be jilted like this.

The fissure is splitting open. The dark, heavy water the dam struggled to contain is pooling out into Baekhyun’s chest.

He knows exactly what will happen this morning. Jongdae will wake up to cold sheets, but because of that (infuriatingly) boundless optimism, he’ll assume Baekhyun is making breakfast. He’ll hop out of bed, prepare a smile, and walk out of the bedroom with a cheerful greeting on his lips. When he finds the kitchen is empty, his smile might falter. A sense of foreboding might start to seep into his mind. But he’ll keep his smile, even if his eyes no longer emulate the hope his mouth portrays. This isn’t the first time Baekhyun has dashed out to the store because they ran out of cereal. Or maybe he’s getting pastries as a surprise, perhaps even as an attempt to patch their fractured relationship. Anything but…

And then he’ll shuffle over to the coffee machine- he’s been more or less addicted to the stuff ever since they met. (“Just a little trouble sleeping”, is what Jongdae argues. Baekhyun knows it’s chronic insomnia.) That’s when he’ll see the note Baekhyun left him. Baekhyun has never been great at expressing emotions other than happiness, written or spoken, and even this night was no exception. What he wrote will destroy Jongdae.

Jongdae, at the very least, deserves to be told to his face. He’s been nothing but kind and loving and caring. He doesn’t deserve being dumped in the middle of the night. But Baekhyun knows that if he has to face Jongdae, he won’t be able to leave. Not because of love. But because of pity. And above all else, Jongdae doesn’t deserve to be someone’s charity case.

And Baekhyun can’t stay any longer. It’s only hurting them both. That’s what he has to keep telling himself as trudges down the hallway to the front door. It’s become somewhat of a mantra as he stands there, the metal knob calling for him so alluringly. The repetition is like duct tape over that gushing fissure.

Somehow, the door opens and Baekhyun finds himself on the other side of it. He hears it shut behind him, the solid thud echoing like gunfire on the silent street.

The night is cold, and a gust of night wind slaps him soundly across the face. Baekhyun imagines it’s God’s hand punishing him for what he has done. For what he is doing now. A part of his mind scoffs at the poetic ramble, because he doesn’t even believe in God.

“You came!” A loud, deep voice exclaims. Baekhyun starts badly, but quickly composes himself and turns toward the sound. He tries to smile. It hurts his lips. They’re chapped from the frosty air.

“Yeah.” He murmurs. Then he tries again, louder and more cheerful. “Yeah!” His voice cracks halfway through the word. , Baekhyun inwardly curses, why am I revisiting puberty now of all times?

The other person, a tall male with straight (Baekhyun briefly wonders how much product was used to achieve this) brown hair and a lopsided grin, runs up to Baekhyun. His smile melts when he sees the shorter man’s expression.

“Hey, shh, no, don’t cry.” He murmurs as he gathers Baekhyun up into his strong arms. “You did what you had to. It was killing you. Both of you.” Baekhyun is confused what the man said about crying until tastes the salt in the corners of his lips. He brings a hand to his cheek, fingers meeting the wetness of the tears involuntarily streaming from his eyes.

“. Chanyeol, I’m acting like a twelve year old girl going through her first breakup.” Baekhyun says bitterly, the laugh that rips out of his throat mirthless. “I-I…” His voice cracks again, so he chooses to shut up before his body can embarrass him further.

“Hey, hey, like you said, everything’s gonna be better from now on! C’mon, let’s get to my car.” Chanyeol suggests, his voice intoxicating and exciting and soothing all at the same time. It reminds Baekhyun of why he has been falling in love with this man the past few months. Baekhyun doesn’t protest as Chanyeol takes Baekhyun’s luggage and guides him down the sidewalk to the awaiting car. Chanyeol unlocks the passenger side and all but tucks Baekhyun into the seat, wrapping a prepared blanket around his trembling shoulders. There’s even a box of tissues in the divider. How thoughtful. Baekhyun muses. That’s something Jo- Baekhyun quickly shakes his head. No, he’s with a different man now. He has to let Jongdae go.

As Chanyeol rounds the back to deposit the bag in the trunk, Baekhyun closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He allows himself to picture Jongdae’s enchanting smile one last time. And then Chanyeol is sliding into the driver’s seat, turning on the ignition, and starting up the heat.

As Chanyeol slowly pulls away from the sidewalk and in the opposite direction of the apartment, Baekhyun doesn’t look back.

A/N: This was just a little angsty drabble I jotted down before falling asleep a week or so ago. This isn’t really proofread, so forgive me for typos, grammatical errors, choppy flow, etc. The first half was written at 1:00am and the second was really really quickly written from memory at school. This is probably just going to be a oneshot (unless I add it to the EXO series I’ve been writing for several months now). Thank you for reading and any subscriptions, upvotes, etc are appreciated as always <3

Update: So, four months later, I’ve decided to come back and proofread a bit. Also, because of inspiration from my readers’ lovely comments (xoxo to you three <3), I’ve decided to add to this story. I’ll start by just writing a little continuation from Jongdae’s POV (I really did feel awful for doing this to him; he’s my bias, actually!) and see where I want to go from there. Thanks a million to everyone who’s read this, subscribed, and commented. I hope to improve my writing a LOT in the coming months (and years?). Peace out *inserts nonexistent peace sign*