“Sup?”

I try to make my voice appear as light and as cheery as possible. But I know that won’t work against the young man standing right in front of me. We’ve grown up together and if there’s someone who knows all the modulations that my voice can make, it’s going to be Namjoon. He can practically detect things without me saying them outright to him.
And right now, I can feel his gaze piercing through as if trying to assess what he’s done wrong, trying to figure out the reason I’ve been avoiding him all this time when it isn’t his fault, not when I’m the one with the screwed up feelings.

“Sup?” Namjoon echoes, scoffing, “You leave in the middle of my party, half-drunk and practically dragging your feet, ignore my calls for a whole damn week and the only thing you can say is ‘sup?’’

I stay quiet. There’s no excuse and I know that. It’s not fair to him and a pang of guilt resonates inside my chest at the thought of having troubled the young man more than I wanted to.

Namjoon lets out a sigh of frustration, raking a hand through his hair before pressing his lips together as he glances behind me, “Is Jin here?”

“No.” I shift, leaning against the doorway and hesitating slightly, before I say, “There’s something I wanted to know about that night, during your party.”

He looks at me as though I’m high on drugs, “I thought I was the one asking the questions here.”

“Well you’re not saying anything so I thought I might just open up the floor for you.”

“That’s not funny, Yehwa.”

“Oh come on, I said I was sorry.”

“And I don’t accept your apology.” His jaw is clenched, eyes boring right into mine with a seriousness that makes me want to flinch back from its intensity, “Why didn’t you tell me it was your idea?”

I frown, “What?”

“The party,” He explains with impatience, “Why didn’t you tell me that you were the one who thought of it?”

Alarm bells go off inside my head. I can’t help but wonder if Haeryung was the one to spill the beans and made a mental note to scream in her face the next time I’d see her.
“Yehwa?” He prompts when silence is my only answer.

I swallow, my brain trying to come up with a rational excuse that would make it sound legit, “Haeryung asked me for advice. And I told her I’d already planned on a theme for your birthday. But I decided that it would be better if she was the one to take responsibility for it.” I crossed my arms defensively then, narrowing my eyes at him, “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“It matters to me.”

I throw him an exasperated look,“Why?”

“Haeryung didn’t even know what Gudetama was when I asked her a few weeks before that.” Namjoon persisted, “And really, there isn’t anyone else that would tell her apart from you.”

“Look,” I sigh, a sudden tiredness washing over me at the thought of having to deal with all this at the end of a long day when I’m not in the mood to fight nor to argue with anyone, “I don’t see why it has to matter so much to you about who thought of throwing you a party, or who decided to throw it. The point is; she cared enough to worry about whether you liked Gudetama. She’s your girlfriend. Obviously she’s going to second doubt herself if she wants you to like it. I don’t see what the problem is here.”

“The problem isn’t the party, Yehwa.” He takes a step forward, so suddenly it makes me jump slightly in response. Since when had he been so tall? “That night--”

“Nothing happened that night.” I quickly intervene before he can say anything else. Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it. “Right?”

He looks at me. There’s a frown that causes a furrow between his brows, but I don’t want to question him for fear that he might reveal all the atrocities I’ve confessed that night. My brain is a blank slate for I can’t remember whether I’ve poured out my feelings to the young man, and the rational part of me wants to hit myself in the face for being so stupid, for letting my guard down when I should be protecting my heart at all costs against pain.

More importantly, I didn’t want Namjoon to worry or be hurt because of me. I didn’t want to be the cause of his suffering either.

“You don’t remember?” he asks suddenly.

My skin grows warm, “Not really.” I managed to mumble before looking at the ground.

“You said--”

“I know what I said.” My palms tightened into fists at my sides. “I just don’t remember saying it.”

“Then--”

“I didn’t mean it.”

A pause. It’s so quiet I can hear my pounding heart.

“I’m sure it must’ve been pretty burdensome.” I chuckle, “And I know that ignoring your messages wasn’t the best way to cope with the situation, but I just couldn’t face you after such a pathetic confession.”

Still, Namjoon stays quiet. But there’s a frown on his face, one that suggests that he’s trying piece the information together and make sense of it all. I take a deep breath, wondering how rational I can be by spilling all my feelings.

This is definitely not how I imagined my first confession to be like. I mean, I’m pretty proud of myself for being so bold even though it meant me having to get drunk to get as honest as possible, but I’d do it again if it meant having a real conversation about what I’ve kept inside my heart through all this time.

“What confession?”

Something drops in my stomach. I swear I inhale and forget to breathe for a few seconds. My thoughts come to a stop as I replay his words inside my mind.

What does he mean, what confession?

Isn’t that what he came to talk to me about? Isn’t that why he’s acting so weird in the first place? Because I’ve crossed the boundary lines, because I breached the best friend contract?

Isn’t that the whole point of the discussion we’re having right now?

“Yehwa.” His voice drops an octave, face serious and intense, “What confession?”

“I-Uh--” I try to scramble for an excuse and instead sprout out a question, “What did I tell you that night, Namjoon?”

“Stop avoiding the question. You were upset for some reason and kept telling me that whatever it was, it was my fault.” He shook his head, as if the memory is replaying inside his mind, “But when I asked you about it, you just tried avoiding the subject.”

Oh my god. So I didn’t tell him.

Oh my god.

“I don’t know what confession you’re talking about.” He continues and I want to sock myself in the face for spilling the beans involuntarily. I hadn’t been aware that I had been digging my own grave, “But clearly there was something else bugging you about that night, something that you were scared would spill once your rationality was gone.”

He takes a step forward and I back away, my back hitting my closed door and reminding me that I have nowhere to run to, that it is now or never. I can’t come up with a good enough excuse and with all the avoiding I’ve been doing with Namjoon, he’s not going to let this one go no matter how crappy of an excuse, no matter how much of a front I put up against him.

He’s going to push until I break and it pains me to think of the consequences.

I bite my lip out of nervous reflex, glancing at his own and cursing inwardly at how weak I am before this man that has changed the way I look at the world.

“Do you really want to know?” my heart’s beating like a hummingbird, my head is lightheaded and it takes me so much courage and control to stabilize my voice, “you’ll regret it once you do.”

“If that means you’ll stop running away from me every time I try to talk to you, then I’ll take it.”

“It will change everything.” I gesture between our bodies, “This, this will change.”

“Go for it.”

“I like you.”

He squints. A small chortle escapes him, “What?”

“I like you.”

“Good one. Now tell me.” he folds his arms across chest, “What is it?”
“That’s it.” I watch his reaction for a moment, before repeating my words so that they can be hammered home, made clear in his head, “I like you and I’ve tried not to, but I guess feelings don’t work that way and I’m sorry that I--”

“Wait, wait,” The expression that he had been wearing a few seconds before is now replaced with utter confusion, “You’re serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking, Namjoon?” I snap at him impulsively, heart constricting in my chest at his reaction. My feelings aren’t a joke and if he thinks they are then he’s a bigger jerk than I thought he was, “Of course I’m serious. I wouldn’t joke about such things.”

My eyes lower to the ground then, unable to keep my orbs on his face for fear of seeing the rejection before I can hear the words confirming the one-sided love.

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you,” pressing my lips together, I force myself to continue, “I’m not expecting any answer from you. Heck, I’m not expecting anything from you.” I take a breath, trying not to let my voice shake with emotion.

I can feel the sting of tears at the corner of my eyes but my jaw clenches in restraint, “I just-- I can’t keep this to myself any longer.”

There’s a distinct pause that hangs in the air before he chokes out, “Since when?”

I shrug, “I think it’s been there all along, but I never acknowledged it.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell me that night?”

I nod. He exhales while looking away, eyes trained on the far end of the corridor and I know that right now he’s feeling lost with what to do with all this. A small smile curls up the corner of my lips as I look at the young man standing before me, worrying about my feelings more than worrying about his own sticky situation. This is the man I fell in love with and I don’t regret it. If I were to choose and do it again, it’d be the same thing. Because even when he’s the one that should be running away from me, Namjoon’s primary thoughts at this moment are not about him and how he can run away from me as soon as possible, but more on how I’ll feel with dealing with my best friend loving another woman.

“What about Haeryung?” he asks suddenly, “Does she know?”

“No,” I bite the inside of my cheek as I think back to the time when I’ve adamantly told her that there was no way in hell I’d fall for my best friend. I guess karma bit a huge chunk out of my , “She asked me once about it. I told her that it was impossible.” I force out a laugh but it sounds bitter, coating my tongue with guilt, “karma got me good.”

I exhale shakily as another stagnant pause fills the air and the conversation between us, fills the space between our living breathing bodies. He’s still not looking at me, and I presume it’s because he fears it will be awkward. He fears seeing the emotion in my eyes, but if this is the last day I get to see him like this, if this is the last day I get to stand this close to the man I love, then I’ll take the most out of this opportunity.

Taking a step forward towards him this time, I gently grab onto his chin before turning it towards my face so that his brown orbs meet mine with a questioning gaze. There’s a depth to them, to those pupils that widen with more confusion and slight guilt.

I smile sadly, “I wish I could say this won’t change anything.” I drop my hand then, fingers tingling from being in such close contact with his skin, “But this changes everything, and I don’t think I can stick around to see how much damage this may cause.”

“What--” I hear him swallow, “What do you mean?”

“I’d rather we not see each other for a little while, if that’s okay with you.” I say, pressing my lips together and knowing that it’ll take me more than just a little while to get over this stupid crush of mine.

But it’s not a crush. It never has been.

The love I bear is more than I can take, and maybe it’s because I know Namjoon, I know what he’s like and I know him better than anybody else ever will. And I know he understands what goes on inside me and what kind of battles I try to fight by myself. Which is why I want to let go as quickly as possible, so that it makes it easier for both of us to forget this kind of friendship that ties us together.

There’s always going to be a little hole where Namjoon had been stitched into my heart, but that can’t be helped. As long as he loves someone else, it’ll just be harder to see him being so happy, it’ll just be harder for me to move on.

It’s selfish, but I want to think of myself for once. I want to put myself first before anyone else.

And when I’m ready then I’ll come back to him. Because there’s no way I’ll walk out of his life for good. He makes up most of my life, most of my memories, and there’s no way I’ll erase him completely no matter how much I try to.

Sometimes, i think that maybe it would’ve been easier if we hadn’t been that close.

But that’s not a given and I’m grateful enough for the kind of friendship we’ve had up until now.

“I guess I’ll see you around then,” I let out a soft sigh, hating the way his eyes seem glazed over, the way he seems to be too disoriented to really understand what’s going on. “Go back home, Namjoon. It’s late.”

With a decisive turn on my heel and with my head held high, I twist open my door handle and make a move to push it open when I’m suddenly whipped around my the shoulder.

I’m stumbling into an embrace before I know it, face pressed into a neck and arms winding around my waist.

Namjoon’s holding on to me for dear life, “No. You can’t do this, Y-You can’t just walk away.”

His voice is raspier, as if he’s trying to hold back tears. I gingerly try to extract myself from his arms, but he won’t budge no matter how much I push.

“It’ll be better for us both.” I murmur in the depths of his neck.

“There’s got to be another way.”

“No Namjoon, there isn’t.” I pull away with more force this time and notice how close he is to me, so close I get slightly distracted by the warmth of his breath brushing against my face, “This is how it has to be.”

“Yehwa, you said--” He’s struggling to find words, eyes shining with the glimmer of tears and causing remorse to twist in my gut, “You said you’d never leave. You promised--”

“I know,” I whisper, “And I’m sorry. But I can’t see you with her, Namjoon.”

I step back out of his arms and they hang loose at his sides, taking one last look at my best friend’s face before closing the door and exhaling a shaky breath from my lips. Emotion is clawing at my throat, the sort of pain that is begging to surface and I finally let it out as sobs force my body to bend over and break into a million shards inside my chest.

This is it, I can’t help but think to myself, This is how it ends.

------

I spill the beans to Hoseok a few hours later when I turn up at his door with nothing but a tearstained face.

“Oh my god.” He ushers me in before closing the door, quickly fetching a towel and fussing over me like a mother hen as I stand there, practically wallowing in my own sadness without realizing that I had in fact, been drenched from the rain while walking to his house.

“Are you insane?” he yells furiously as he berates me with insults about how stupid I must be to wander in the streets this late at night, with nothing but sweatpants and a t-shirt and with a mind that’s all over the place, “What is wrong with you? Do you have a death wish or something?!”

“I told him.” Is the only thing I can mumble.

He stops everything. He stares at me, “You told him…”

“I told him everything.”

And before I know it, I’m bursting into tears once more. I hear Hoseok’s sigh before I feel the warmth of his arms coming around me, rocking me back and forth as I cry into his neck and wish that these stupid emotions hadn’t surfaced in the first place. I don’t think I’ve ever hated my life so much at this moment, for I feel like my heart has been wrenched into bits and pieces with nothing to put me back together.

There’s o