“We can’t be together.”

Jiyong’s weary eyes stare right through him and Seungri’s everything is seized with an excruciating ache. His first instinct is to cry out about the untruthfulness of the statement but as the words seep into his mind, he feels his heart sink hopelessly. Jiyong is right.   

The world will never be ready for a love as beautiful as theirs.

Jiyong keeps his voice distant, but Seungri hears the same fatigue that he feels in his core. “We’re both tired of this- this hiding. It can’t go on.”

Ashes of burnt memories of GD all over Kiko at a party, GD on a date with Nana in his private Instagram, GD protecting Dara against the crowds reignite and mould into iron fists tightening around his windpipe, crushing his chest. The wounds split open all over again, exposing the exhaustion he tries daily to bury.

“It can’t,” Seungri agrees, contrastingly numbly.

“It hurts you, hurts us too much… I hurt you too much.”

Seungri’s breath catches painfully.

He used to wonder if everything would be okay if he were a girl, if their love didn’t clash so harshly with the traditional idea, the societal idea, the “right” idea of family–

(Stupid, it’s all so stupid! How can anything be more important than love? Love is what makes us human after all!)

–But he knew that everything about them just the way they were was what made their bond so powerful, and to change something inherent about him would be to change something inherent about their love.

A corner of his heart musters just enough energy to smile bitterly.

Now, he just thinks that it would be ideal if they both find nice wives and have their own children. Maybe they can remain good friends. They will still be in the same band, after all. It might take a while for all the tension between them to dissipate, but it will happen eventually. They won’t have to carry around this burden of knowing they are hurting each other. Seungri’s shoulders are weak from the weight of it.

“Can you hold me for the last time then, please?” He tries not to let his voice wobble.

Jiyong sighs deeply, the sound resonating in Seungri’s bones, and slides his arms around his frame. Chests pressed together, Seungri hugs him back and feels Jiyong fill up all his empty spaces. Will he never be able to feel this feeling again?

“Are you really doing this?” Seungri whispers brokenly.

He feels the fatigue hang heavier like a black cloud around his brain, pressing painfully into his skull.

“Yes.”

But Jiyong’s voice is barely audible, tone dropping so quickly as if he wants to snatch back his answer as soon as he says it.

“Are you really giving us up?”