You know I still love you. You kick a pebble and watch it skitter down the wet sidewalk. Your hands are shoved deep in your pockets, hair all tucked away under the hood of your rain jacket. 

 

Before you went out, Junmyeon handed you gloves and pushed that last stray hair into place for you and you hated it. You used to think it was him being overprotective and caring, and maybe it was, but maybe it was him thinking he was everyone’s goddamn guardian even though you are an adult and your own person and you should be allowed to make dangerous and dumb decisions by yourself sometimes. 

 

You aren’t wearing the gloves. You tug your hood back, and the rain soaks your hair in seconds.

 

When you first met him, there was nothing he could do that wouldn’t make you smile. He liked holding your hand in public and he bought you treats every time you went out. His dad jokes had you clutching your stomach and laughing, half out of true amusement and half out of adoring exasperation. He liked to cuddle with you every night, your hair and trace patternless patterns into your arms and back and tell you how beautiful you were and how much he loved you.

 

When you first met him, he looked at you like you were the whole world. He never wanted to do anything unless it was to make you happy. He picked you flowers because he knew that you liked being surrounded by them. Anything you gave him was enough. He loved your cooking. Somewhere along the line, you learned how to cut your recipes in half.

 

At night now he still sleeps close, but he doesn’t touch you. It’s enough for you to point at and say see? something has changed but not enough for you to bring up a serious discussion about. But you know that you both know it’s there.

 

And he’s right. You know I still love you. He still loves you and you still love him, in some vague, conceptual way—it’s just that you can’t stand him when he’s here but you long for him when he’s gone and you’re so worried that one day all that’s going to be left is the former.

 

It’s only been ten minutes but even this rain isn’t enough to keep you company. When you’re out here without him, it’s like you forget why you ever left. You want his arms around you. You turn your face to the sky and imagine each drop of water is him kissing you. The emptiness you felt around him dissipates and it’s like you could love him for the rest of your life. But you know you can’t—at least, not if nothing changes. The rain water drips into the space between your rain jacket and your sweatshirt. Your shoulders feel heavy—it’s a feeling you get often when you go out, but aside from heavy, you haven’t found a name for it yet. It’s too far away.

 

Your shoulders, your body, didn’t used to know that weight; you were too busy being so wrapped up in Junmyeon that you were unfamiliar with any kind of water. Now, you miss loving him with all your heart all the time. You miss loving him with all your heart all the time, all the time. 

 

You used to associate soft mornings and nights with him, in your bed, watching the sky together and making up stories about the future. Now, all you have is this.

 

You bow your head and let your feet take you back to a home that isn’t home.

 

He fusses over you and your drowned rat state as soon as you walk in the door, but you push him away, leaving your wet things in the shelter of the porch to dry, and damply making your way upstairs for some clean clothes. The emptiness is back and it hits you when you stare around your room at the pictures of both of you smiling. They’re all old.

 

That night you dream of how things used to be, but even in your dream there is something bland about all of it. There is always something missing, and when you wake up you finally figure it out—it’s the beautiful flying feeling of being in love.

 

You are not in love, and that knowledge breaks your heart just as much as everything else put together has already.

 

How do you say I miss you to someone who’s right there in front of you, who’s been right there in front of you for so long? I miss you, I miss you. I miss the way your cheeks when you smiled used to light up my world. I miss your bad cooking and the smell of your shampoo in your hair. I miss planning silly aesthetic couple outfits with you. I miss wearing your clothes; I miss catching you wearing mine. I miss the way your skin felt on my skin, I miss your breath in my ear, I miss the way my heart used to feel when you were around. I miss you, what do I do?

 

I miss you, what do I do?

 

You know if you said anything like that to him, he’d take your hands, stare intently at you until you gave in and met his gaze, and then he’d say I’m here, baby, I’m right here. But that’s not what you need. You need healing for all the tiny, tiny cracks in the walls that have built up and are starting to make your mind shake.

 

Junmyeon, you know, is feeling the same way. You see it when he searches your eyes like he thinks he has lost you. You see him looking for you in every small gesture you make, every word you speak. He can’t find who he is looking for. You are not how he remembers you.

 

I miss you, what do I do?

 

You get into so many fights now over nothing. The dishes. Turning the lights off to save money. The laundry. Gas for the cars. Anything. Even when you’re fighting, you’re not really angry.

 

Tonight, it’s counter space—your makeup versus his hair products and it’s so stupid and you both know it but you keep fighting anyway, and eventually, you just leave before it can get any worse. And for the first time, through the loneliness and the haze of not being around him and the stale anger still bitter on your tongue, you capture the uneasy feeling that has been floating just out of reach for so long. You don’t want to go back. You can’t go back.

 

So, you don’t. You catch a bus heading in the direction of your friends’ place. Junmyeon texts you. You text I’m sorry back without reading what he said, and turn your phone off, and close your eyes.

 

The strobing of the passing street lights dizzies you, even through your eyelids. You feel tears well up and you take a deep, trembling breath. Everything is over. You don’t want it to be true, but you know it is. Junmyeon’s warm brown eyes flash through your mind, his hands, the glimmer of his hair in early morning light. Everything is over, and I don’t know how to start again, even after all this time, not without you.