Jisung told his parents about them last week. Finally, after they’ve spent almost three months together, he finally gathered enough courage to spill the beans. To take the cats out of the bag. To, in a lack of more creative idioms, come out of the closet.

 

He didn’t know what to expect, to be perfectly honest. But he’d spent nights running through countless imaginary scenarios and dialogues and arguments and rebuttals that he was surprised he could still be silenced by the words that came out of his dad,

 

“Oh, finally.”

 

Maybe because he never expected his parents to be so… laid back about it, or to one day figure out that his mom somehow has managed create a throwaway instagram account, like some sort of petty stalker, and has been secretly monitoring everything he’d done ever since the dawn of his social media usage.

 

“Mom that is a breach of privacy!” He yelled, something akin to a muffled screech, as his palms were plopped right on his beet red face while his brain was running fifty miles an hour, trying to think and remember if he’d posted anything inherently embarrassing and inappropriate in his account.

 

“But I love your posts!” She said after Jisung demanded her to unfollow him and asked for her to promise that she will never, ever check his account ever again. She did bring up a good argument, about how he can treat her as if she’s just another one of his follower, because what’s the difference between me and say, your old junior high teacher?

 

(“She’s not my mother,” he replied, and his mother was silenced into a defeated huff. Checkmate.)

 

They then proceeded to heckle him for thirty minutes. Heckle. Parents. They were supposed to be his parents, not his immature highschool friends. But they would not stop laughing at him, ooh and ahh-ing and cooing as if he was an eight month old baby, not an eighteen year old adult who was going to turn nineteen in three months, while shoving their phones at Jisung’s face, pictures after pictures of him and Donghyuk plastered all over the screen.

 

“When are you going to introduce him to us?”

 

The next weekend, he promised them. And next weekend it is.

 

(That night, as they were driving him back to his student dormitory, his mom caught the ends of his fingers, just as he was about to jump out from his family car. “We love you,” she said, and his dad also nodded to that, even though he didn’t avert his gaze from the car’s front window. There was a bit of silence, when his mom seemingly was seeking for the right sentence to summarise the nebulous cloud of things she wanted to say, but in the end she only gave his fingers one more squeeze as she repeated,

 

“We love you. Ok?”

 

The last time Jisung said those words to his parents, he was thirteen. He was crying after he asked for his parents’ forgiveness after lying to them about his math exam result. He was thirteen and he was being hugged by his mom, who accepted his apologies and whispered ‘promise me not to do it again, ok?’

 

He was glad he wasn’t being hugged by anybody, that day in the car, because he would’ve cried his heart out. Like a baby. Like an eight months old little baby.

 

“Love you too.” He said, maybe a little too quickly, maybe a little too quietly, before he pulled his hand away and dashed out of the car without looking back even once. Because maybe, just maybe, he did cry, even if it was just for a little bit.)

 

Donghyuk is predictable in his unpredictability.

 

Which was why Jisung was somehow not surprised when Donghyuk answered his invitation for a dinner with his parents with an excited yes.

 

Donghyuk looked absolutely charming in his Sunday’s best, and it somehow reminded Jisung to his prom that happened almost two years ago by that point in time. With Donghyuk knocking on his door while holding a bouquet of sunflowers because he remembered the one advice Jisung gave him, that his mother loves sunflowers.

 

(One thing that’s different was that back then Jisung was the one who had to go to his date’s house. A resourceful girl who agreed to use each other as a cover up so that she could go and dance with her girlfriend during the main event while Jisung and Chenle could ran away and chat around mindlessly at their school’s closed up canteen.)

 

His mother loves Donghyuk. She might not have said it audibly, but it was clear from the shine in her eyes, and the way she went the extra mile to make Donghyuk feel comfortable in their home that she loved him. Jisung’s father bonded with him over their mutual love for classic rock bands. And there it was, the pain. As Jisung watched the event of their lunch unfolded, the familiar ache began to throb and spread. First from his chest, then all along his limbs. The pain that hasn’t showed up for months now, ever since they’ve seamlessly jumped over the last hurdle and became comfortable with the feelings they both shared.

 

“Thankyou for keeping up with my parents,” Jisung said when they were walking back to Donghyuk’s car. All the talks and all the laughters flowed so effortlessly that when Donghyuk had to excuse himself for the evening, the sun had already begun to set. It was setting behind them, painting the sky a dusty mixture of colours on a background of fiery red. And still, after weeks and months of them being together, Jisung hasn’t grown tired of comparing Donghyuk with his celestial namesake, even if his hair was no longer the colour of the sky at dusk.

 

“They’re really nice, it’s hard not to.”

 

He dyed it a dark hue of copper earlier this week, much to Jisung’s disappointment. When asked why, he answered with an absent minded shrug, ‘I want to make a good impression.’

 

They were only five steps away from his car when Jisung asked him, “when can I meet your parents?” And he felt something shift. With each steps the atmosphere growing heavier, little by little, that by their fifth step Jisung was struggling to move his feet, as they felt like they were almost glued to the ground just from observing the sudden change in Donghyuk’s demeanor.

 

He was planning on asking Donghyuk to take him somewhere, anywhere, as the night was young and their bellies were full of a good meal. But seeing the darkness setting onto Donghyuk’s face, even when there was a smile on his lips when he looked up from unlocking his car, Jisung couldn’t find it in himself to speak up his request.

 

“Someday, little dove, someday.”

 

Then, it sounded weak. Only a soft exhale of his breath as he gave Jisung a quick farewell kiss. The only sound that followed after was the rumbling of the car’s engine as it drove away to the night.

 

_ _ _

 

“What else do you want for our future?”

 

Jisung didn’t even know how they ended up there, in a topic that turned out to be sort of a taboo for Donghyuk. Talking about the future.

 

Well, initially they were talking.

 

Talking turned to arguments. Arguments turned to screaming matches. And their screams finally stopped when Jisung asked Donghyuk that question, which led to a deafening silence that rang even louder than all the yells and shouts that bounced against the walls of Donghyuk’s quaint apartment.

 

Maybe this argument was Jisung’s fault. No, not maybe. It was his fault. As he was the one who kept on pestering, kept on pushing, kept on asking Donghyuk for when they could meet his parents. I want to meet your sister, how is she like? What’s your mom’s cooking specialty? Will she appreciate it if I help her in the kitchen? How about your dad? What’s he like?

 

It was his inability to read the situation and know when to stop, when to pull his own rein and stop pouring before the water inside the cup overflowed and Donghyuk told him to ‘shut up,’ said very coldly without him even looking up from his phone.

 

“My situation with my parents is… different.”

 

Maybe, if Jisung was more attentive, if he wasn’t blinded by his selfish joy that came from his own parents’ acceptance, he would’ve seen how Donghyuk’s fingers were shaking as they gripped onto his phone with frightening intensity. Maybe then he wouldn’t have worsened everything up by arguing that ‘if your parents love you then they will accept you, no matter what.’

 

“It’s not as easy as that!” Donghyuk never yelled at him, not even when he was joking around. But he did then and it caused something to change. Everything, truthfully. Because at that moment Jisung stopped listening. Maybe because the yell awakened his defensive side, who didn’t seem to want to ever back down, or give up, until the side that opposed him admitted their defeat.

 

Because instead of listening to Donghyuk’s regretful apologies and desperate wishes for them to forget this wretched topic of conversation and talk about anything other than this, Jisung clenched his fists, and argued even more.

 

Little did Jisung know that the more he tried to push his opinion on Donghyuk, the less he was willing to listen. And the more Donghyuk rebuked him, the less Jisung was willing to listen. Like a circle they went, on and on and on.

 

Argument which turned to shouts, turned to silence…

 

Jisung wanted to say something, some clever thing, some cunning underhanded insult, something that will be delivered with a side of his sarcastic laughter that will make him feel good about himself because he won.

 

But then Donghyuk sighed and he let himself fall back down to his sofa with such exhaustion, it caused a certain sense of guilt to seep into Jisung’s heart. ‘Maybe I should stop,’ a small chirping from the back of his mind said. But greediness is a much more powerful emotion than empathy and Jisung has been blinded by it for the entirety of their talk that he wasn’t willing to let it go so easily.

 

“Little dove you’re eighteen, for god sake. What are we even doing talking about… future and families and god,- how can you not have nightmares just thinking about it?” He could see Donghyuk was trying to use the silence as a clean slate for him to steer the two of them into a lighter conversation. A conversation light enough that it won’t devolve into another screaming match. The weak laughter he let up was his first effort on doing so.

 

Although it was quickly thwarted when Jisung cut it short with another question to push his own side of the argument further down Donghyuk’s throat,

 

“What are we?”

 

“Jisung, please,-”

 

“What are we. Answer me Donghyuk.”

 

There was a long beat of silence. Way too long to be considered a beat, truthfully, as before long it settled in between the nooks of the room, and the nooks of Jisung’s fingers that flexed uncomfortably in the nothingness of it all. When Donghyuk spoke next, frustration was more than palpable in his voice, “boyfriends. We are boyfriends.”

 

Jisung scoffed at that answer. A cop out. It was as if Donghyuk answered ‘the sky’ when Jisung asked him ‘what’s up.’

 

But this time, Jisung’s scoff to Donghyuk’s silly half-assed answer did not lead to an embarrassed groan and stifled giggle. This time, Donghyuk slammed his phone on his coffee table so hard it caused Jisung to flinch, “a boyfriend that loves you. Isn’t that enough?! God! What else do you want from me?!”

 

“What are we five years in the future? Ten?! Will you leave me then, hanging, to marry someone your parents set up for you, just so that you can please them?! Who will I be then? Just a ‘lover’ you meet at the side, a secret, a forbidden thing that will follow you around like some sort of dog?” Jisung spat his words out when they came to an end, “I’m not your dog, Donghyuk.” His breath was hitched when he took a quick pause, and even if he didn’t want it to happen, the pained frown that Donghyuk gave him caused his voice to falter when he picked up his argument for a final sprint through the last stretch, “is it wrong for me to… to want some sort of certainty? I’m eighteen. Okay. So? What does it have to do with anything? , this conversation can come up when I’m twenty five and you’re twenty seven and I have a feeling it’ll go down the same route.”

 

Donghyuk’s silence proved to Jisung the truth in his words. Today, tomorrow, a year from now, ten, fifteen, they will always end up here. A stalemate in which one party wants to see what the future holds and the other party is already content for getting the chance to merely exist.

 

Jisung should’ve remembered the thing Donghyuk told him, on that night when they did so many of their firsts. No need to think too far into the future. Just you, me. Here. Now. Isn’t that enough?

 

Without waiting for Donghyuk to provide a reply to his argument, Jisung ran out of the apartment. Because he’s waited long enough and no, Jisung decided, ‘no. It is no longer enough.’

 

_ _ _

 

Didn’t take long for Jisung to come trailing back to Donghyuk, tail tucked in between his legs like a loyal puppy, asking to be forgiven.

 

Two days, to be exact. Two days spent ranting and ing about it all to poor, poor Chenle. Jisung should feel blessed that he has a friend as patient as Chenle. A friend as accommodating as him. Who only listened and in the end of it all, sighed, “you’re so stupid it’s painful.”

 

To Jisung’s slightly confused, and slightly insulted, ‘what?’, Chenle threw him his economics 101 textbook, aiming right in the middle of his two eyes (probably hoping that it’ll somehow open Jisung’s third eye and the kid can learn to look at something not just from the one facet that stares him straight at his face),

 

“When you were five you hated carrots. What’s your favourite veggie now?”

 

Carrots.

 

“You’re lucky, you know,” Chenle sighed when he noticed that his question had managed to reduce the ranting crow into a silent, thinking, civilised human being, “what you have with your parents, not everyone has that.”

 

Jisung understood what Chenle was meaning to say without him having to spell it out, ‘be more empathic of other people’s life, stupid cow.’

 

It only took Jisung one good morning text from Donghyuk. It wasn’t even flourished. It was just a simple good morning and nothing else, but it caused Jisung to feel so guilty he popped up at his daycare that same afternoon. Picking Donghyuk up from his part time job holding a plastic bag filled with his favourite meal.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, almost choking on his saliva from how nervous he was feeling. Considering what he did, Donghyuk has all the right in this world to refuse his apology, and it was a major fear running thickly within every branches of his veins that when Donghyuk rushed to him and enveloped him in a tight hug, Jisung could do nothing else but laugh. Laugh, because if not that, then the only other option was tears.

 

“I’m sorry too.” Donghyuk muttered to his ears, before he pushed himself away from Jisung and motioned for him to follow suit as Donghyuk led them both to the small garden tucked nicely behind the daycare so that they could enjoy the meal Jisung so nicely readied.

 

Everything turned back to normal, no? Jisung could take a relieved breath now, no?

 

No.

 

It took Jisung three days to notice but when he did notice it, it stuck out in front of his face like a swollen toe freshly stubbed against a table leg.

 

Donghyuk has stopped calling him his little dove.

 

_ _ _

 

Jisung initially didn’t care that Donghyuk had dropped his nickname. In fact, he was glad. No longer did he have to endure embarrassing moments when people would look at them weird when Donghyuk accidentally called him out loud with that name in public. No longer having to feign annoyance when in all actuality Jisung felt nothing but a spreading of warmth across his chest everytime Donghyuk called him his little dove.

 

But soon after, Jisung started missing it. And worse, he noticed that such small change was only the beginning. Like a sales person nudging their toe between the door and its frame to stop the homeowner from shooing them away, and how such small body part could little by little be wiggled about to make way for bigger limbs, the absence of Donghyuk’s affectionate name calling brought about even bigger changes.

 

For one, the arguments.

 

Even prior to the ‘big one’ that Jisung initiated (yes, he has fully accepted the fact that he was the sole initiator of the whole entire landslide that they were currently caught in), their relationship could be categorised as one where… cheeky banters are a hundred percent encouraged and appreciated. Probably it was because of his confrontational nature, probably it was because he enjoys looking at Donghyuk being riled up when they were in the thickest of their discussions, eyes blazing and voice all quick and hitched up like they’ve just ran a marathon.

 

But now, their arguments were not like the ones they used to have before. No longer harmless, and witty, and ultimately based solely on their mutual feeling of love to each other. Lately, their squabbles were scathing, short yet cutting. And Donghyuk’s eye roll, or his loud scoff, did not serve as a wick that will bring about a burst of endeared laughter, but instead it acted like a sprinkling of lemon juice on the shallow cuts that his passive-aggressive words have made on Jisung’s heart.

 

If before their arguments would usually end when Jisung could no longer ignore the nagging sense of tingling that surrounded his lips and fingers, telling his brain to cut it short and just kiss his boyfriend already, now it ended when either one of them stormed out of the room. Shutting the door that separated them with a bang, like a final exclamation point that said ‘enough is enough’, leaving nothing but silence and dust swirling in the air for the one left behind to breathe in.

 

But when the heat settled, guilt would come knocking on the door, and Jisung would always become the first victim of its irresistible lure.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung would always be the first one to say those words, doesn’t matter if he was the one who lost or won the argument. Like a dog, he’d return to Donghyuk. The unbearable feeling of guilt acting as the water that helped him swallow his pride.

 

Better yet, Donghyuk would also always wait for him, sometimes he even would be the one to seek out Jisung (and those times were the one when he truly was defeated), and like being trapped in a debilitating addiction, Jisung couldn’t seem to stop coming back.

 

Their argument his wound, and Donghyuk’s hug, his sweet nonsense, his little kisses that barely grazed the corner of Jisung’s lips, those were the endorphin that would come after it.

 

And however much he was sick of it, however much he felt filthy each time he’d succumb to the temptation, each time suffering with the nauseating bile rising up to the back of his throat, Jisung just couldn’t seem to ever get enough.

 

_

 

One day, Donghyuk visited him in his dormitory and his hair was dyed black.

 

So dark it almost glowed blue under the cheap fluorescent lighting in Jisung’s barebone room.

 

“Why?” He asked, fingers carefully threading the path they’ve went through so many times before. But this time it felt different, or at least Jisung feared that it would be different. And he knew Donghyuk saw the hesitation before he reached out and ran his fingers through Donghyuk’s new hair, because the little smile he had on his lips screamed of some personal victory celebration.

 

Like he’d won something after he saw how much the change had disturbed Jisung.

 

“I’m bored,” Donghyuk groaned after he grabbed Jisung’s fingers and took it away from their spot, hiding behind his ears, “why? Can’t I be bored? I’m only human.”

 

“It’s just… new,” Jisung mumbled as he observed this black haired someone walk to his bed and plopped himself down on it. Feeling the oddity roll over his tongue because he’s so used to seeing the warm glow that would usually surround Donghyuk’s face, he had a hard time adjusting to how harsh his dark hair made his features looked.

 

Cold. Cold. Cold. Like a faraway star. Has his sun finally set?

 

“Do you like it?” Little dove? This time it was just a phantom whisper only he could hear. Like an expectation that he knew will never be met. The atmosphere hung precariously on the edge of a cliff but Jisung was too tired from doing his statistic assignment to start an argument, and he decided that tonight, only tonight, he’ll only let out a sigh and let everything run according to Donghyuk’s wishes.

 

“Of course I do,” he said with a smile. And from how Donghyuk was looking at him with raised eyebrows, Jisung knew he was expecting for a markedly different word to come out of his mouth. ‘Just tonight,’ Jisung thought as he joined Donghyuk on the tiny bed, snuggling close to him and absentmindedly twirling a hair strand with his index finger, ‘just tonight, maybe I can remember how it felt.’

 

His hair now looked like a cold, unignited coal. And indeed, it felt like so. Cool to the touch.

 

(Just like his lips. And his touches. And that night Jisung found out that maybe some things will never change with Donghyuk. No matter what.)

 

_

 

Jisung never knew he could encounter something he’d hate more than being trapped in a passive-aggressive argument with Donghyuk.

 

But two weeks after he dyed his hair Jisung discovered that something.

 

And that is silence.

 

Silence. Just day in and day out.

 

Truthfully speaking, the silence is not the problem, as they’ve long since entered the zone of ‘I’m comfortable being around you even if we don’t have anything to say.’ The point behind it is. Because it felt like they both were using it as a way to spite the other party in a way more scathing than any insult could.

 

Like a childish, petty game of who could maintain whatever unspoken rule set between them the longest.

 

Jisung didn’t even get what’s the point anymore. What’s the point of hanging out when they don’t even talk? Or look at each other? They would visit each other’s home, then sit on the sofa if it was Donghyuk’s apartment, the floor if it’s Jisung’s dorm, and that’s it. They would just be busy with their own things.

 

Were they only hanging on the bare thread of familiarity now? Were they only doing this because they didn’t know what else to do on their spare time?

 

Things got even more worse when Donghyuk’s band took a short hiatus because of the final exams. Because before then, usually the silence would occasionally be filled with the two of them singing to whatever songs were put in the band’s current repertoire. And now Donghyuk would just lay there on the carpet on Jisung’s room, his phone or his laptop or a textbook in his hands, being silent.

 

One day, an exceptionally lazy day at the end of the exam period, Jisung found himself being in a very sour mood after thinking that he’d flunk his management unit. And when the first thing he saw after he entered his dorm was Donghyuk lying on his bed with his shoes on, he could feel something within him snap. He could hear it, even, it sounded like when someone bite into a raw carrot. Like the sound of his backpack hitting his plastic chair with a loud crash.

 

“Oh, you’re back,” Donghyuk mumbled without even looking up from his phone, “how’s your exam?”

 

To his question, Jisung replied with nothing but the sound of him rummaging through his bag. And he knew that Donghyuk knew he was pissed, because as Donghyuk once said to him, ‘you can’t hide it when you’re mad. You’ll move like a parade of elephants, stomping everything on your path.’ So he couldn’t begin to understand why, why then, when Donghyuk spoke next, Jisung could hear the tone of mocking so palpable in his voice,

 

“Didn’t go well, I assume,-”

 

“Donghyuk, why did we even like each other in the first place?”

 

Jisung stood beside his now messy chair, his fingers gripping the back of it so hard they trembled. Just like how the smile on his lips too, trembled. Because it was forced. Forced so hard as the only other option that he had was tears.

 

Angry, angry tears.

 

Donghyuk finally looked up from his phone at Jisung’s interruption, an expression of shock seemingly fleet across his eyes when he looked at his obviously high strung partner before everything settled to what it was before. A smug, holier-than-thou attitude that made Jisung itch to punch him on his beautiful face. The pause that expanded before Donghyuk said his answer was too long it caused Jisung to wonder if it wasn’t the first thing that came to his mind, “because you approached me?”

 

Jisung really did hope that Donghyuk’s sarcastic jab wasn’t the first thing that popped to his mind, because if so, then him.

 

“I guess it’s my fault then,” giving up on trying to sort out the mess on his chair, Jisung opted to just gave its base a firm swipe and allowed all of his stuffs to fall to the floor. Jisung then angled the chair to face Donghyuk head on and sat down on it with so much deliberate roughness the cheap material cracked under his weight, “my fault for making such mistake.”

 

However much his cheeks ached from his fake amicable smile, Jisung insisted on keeping it there. Because he lived for that poorly masked feeling of distraught on Donghyuk’s face.

 

They only looked at each other for the longest period of time, and during that, all Jisung wanted was to give in on his guilt for ever being so confrontational. To fall back into the painful cycle of hurt and comfort and awfully pretend that everything will be alright. ‘No,’ he thought, ‘not tonight. Not now.’ And so he toughed it out. Who’s going to win on this game of unblinking intimidation?

 

“Why are we doing this,-”

 

“Oh, I don’t know. You tell me.”

 

“No, you tell me!” Turns out, Jisung won. Because just as suddenly as the raise of pitch in his voice, Donghyuk jumped onto his feet and began to pace around the small spot beside Jisung’s bed, “you are the one who came here being all mad and . And suddenly it’s my fault?!”

 

“You’re the one who started yelling first,” Jisung spelled out his sentence with long deliberate pause between each words. Long enough to be condescending, short enough to still fit with the nature of his unhinged smile, “who’s mad now?”

 

“Stop doing that,” Donghyuk hissed at Jisung, when he seemingly couldn’t stand one more second having all his movement being followed by that unsettling expression. And when Jisung didn’t budge, he snapped. “I said stop it!”

 

Jisung’s never thought that Donghyuk would hurt him. Not even when they were having their screaming matches, not even when they were in the heights of being annoyed to all hells with each other. He never entertained that notion, not even for one second. But when Donghyuk leaped to his direction, only stopping when his arms hit the back of his chair and inadvertently trapping Jisung in a cage, it suddenly dawned on him. The possibility that Donghyuk could, if he would.

 

Donghyuk was immediately surprised by his own impulsive action. Maybe he was disturbed by how harsh his shout sounded, bouncing off the thin walls of this cramped dorm room. Maybe he didn’t expect to hear his own ragged breathing, or how hot his face and arms felt. Maybe, he was disgusted with himself when in that split second of critical tension, Jisung had on his face the most heartbreaking expression.

 

He was scared. However short he had it before Jisung pulled his composure back around his shoulders, it was clear that what Donghyuk did has terrified him so.

 

Jisung could tell that Donghyuk regretted it. Well, Jisung hoped Donghyuk would’ve regretted every single little thing he’d done that’d led them to end up in this wretched moment. Of being helplessly trapped in silence, with Jisung glued on his chair, and Donghyuk haphazardly trying to find his phone on the folds of Jisung’s thick blanket.

 

“You’re leaving?”

 

But sometimes he forgot, that it was he who started it all.

 

‘Maybe, if you never took him to meet your parents, this will never happen.’

 

‘Maybe, if you didn’t force him to share more than he was ready to, this will never happen.’

 

‘Maybe, if you were willing to live in the present, this will never happen.’

 

But all those guilt-filled thoughts were drowned by the buzzing feel of anger and discontent, that without him ever meaning to do so, Jisung opened his mouth and broke the silent spell between them, just as Donghyuk pocketed his oh so precious phone on his jeans back pocket.

 

“I hope you’ll have a lot of fun playing pretend with your perfect little family.”

 

There was a beat of dreadful emptiness in the air. Devoid of any sound.

 

Only painted by Jisung’s smile that’d re his lips. Even Donghyuk’s expression was flat.

 

Flat, as he dug into his other pocket, and so silent, it caused Jisung to involuntarily flinch when Donghyuk’s set of his dorm keys jingled against the glass surface of his desk.

 

He didn’t say anything. Not before, not after. Only the sound of Jisung’s door being slammed against its frame echoed through the still air, acting as a final period to their doomed relationship.

 

_ _ _

 

He talked with Chenle later that night. After he’d woken up from the all-consuming stupor that he didn’t even notice he’d ever entered and texted (more like begged) Chenle to please, please come to his dorm. When he did finally come about, it was already nine thirty and Jisung’s nails had left deep, angry red half moons at the base of his palms from how hard they were digging into his skin as he’d steeped inside his own pool of anxiety for a little too long.

 

Jisung then told him that it’s over. “It’s over, I screwed it all up.”

 

And his best friend just sat there on the floor beside him, only nodding occasionally and humming a few short acknowledging notes to show that yes, he was listening. If Chenle noticed that he was crying, he was kind enough to not brought that up to his attention. Oh, who was he kidding. Of course Chenle noticed. Jisung was a sobbing mess and his tears were rolling down his cheeks like two set of everlasting waterfall.

 

“I don’t know what to do now,” his voice came out muffled, as Jisung has grown tired from having to wipe his cheeks every three seconds and had resorted to just bury his face on the sleeves of his old, ragged hoodie, “what should I do? I don’t know what should I do.”

 

“There’s only two things you can do,” Chenle’s voice was soft when he finally spoke, and Jisung was grateful for that. His ears were already hurting from his hardcore crying session and they would’ve suffered even more if Chenle used his normal outdoor voice to spout off his wisdom, “change your goals, or leave him.“

 

It was the first thing Chenle said during the night and it was already something that made Jisung’s headache grew ten times worse.

 

“I don’t want to…”

 

“You don’t wanna what? Change? Or leave?”

 

‘Both!’ Jisung really wanted to scream it as loud as he could, but he knew Chenle would’ve used the roll of magazine he had on his hands to swat the top of his head.

 

All he wanted was to reset the clock to three months ago, when everything was fine and they truly were walking down the same road. Not tugging at each other’s arms so they could drag the other party down a differing fork on the path.

 

“Can’t he be the one who change?”

 

“How could you expect a mule like him to change if you yourself don’t want to.”

 

‘That is true,’ Jisung thought. He was cornered and he knew he had nowhere else to go. So he decided to give up, bury his face even deeper into the fold of his arms, and sobbed his answer, “I can’t… stay.”

 

There seemed to be a clog at the back of his throat, but Jisung knew that he got to brave it. He got to say all these words to someone other than himself because only then would it break the curse that was casted over him. “I’m exhausted. I can’t stay. I can’t take it anymore.”

 

“Then leave.”

 

At that moment Jisung looked up from his self-made nest and for the first time in that night, looked at Chenle straight on his eyes with his own set of bloodshot ones, “as easy as that?”

 

“Yes,” Chenle, probably no longer able to contain his sympathy, finally broke the cold spell he’d put up between the two of them with a tired sigh and reached out to hold Jisung’s heated fingers inside his cool palm, “if that’s really what you need, then yes. As easy as that.”

 

_

 

Jisung was surprised that Chenle’s advice worked. At least, he hasn’t succumbed to the urge to return to Donghyuk. Begging him to take him back like a hungry kitten.

 

But the problem now came from the fact that his pent up guilt has started to corrode him from the inside. It didn’t hurt. Oh no, the pain has subsided and disappeared completely the morning after Donghyuk gave him back his keys. Even worse, it left him feeling nothing. Jisung knew that sleep will help you get away from something, but he never knew it could take away so much from him.

 

That weekend, Jisung spent all his time lounging in his house. Well, if moping around at the corner of his mom’s sofa from sun up till sun down could be considered as lounging, that is.

 

His mom’s food tasted bland. He didn’t even know what movies were playing on the tv set, his empty eyes boring holes through it as he was staring at something beyond the tv screen. His parents’ conversation came through one ear and out the other. Forced laughter came at wrong moments and questions were only answered with a shrug or a disinterested grunt.

 

Jisung didn’t want to do anything at that moment. He didn’t even want to get up from his bed, if he was allowed to get away with it. But parents being parents, they dragged him out of it and forced him to at least do something in that beautiful day.

 

And mother being mothers, after his dad had retired to bed and Jisung was left alone in the living room, staring absently at the tv, she slipped to the spot beside his and asked,

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

‘Everything,’ he silently mouthed. But keeping up with his previous style of responding (or lack thereof), Jisung answered with a twitch of his shoulder.

 

Jisung hoped that his mom would leave him alone. Just leave him to swim inside his pool of crippling mental emptiness. But he should’ve known, that if he wanted to be left alone, he should’ve done a better job acting like he was okay. Because nope, his mom is not gonna give him any rest, as she only allowed Jisung to go through one cycle of breathing before she started to interrogate him again.

 

“Is it school? Do you have problem with your classes?”

 

“No.”

 

“Friends? Are you getting bullied?”

 

“No, mom, I’m not in elementary school anymore,-”

 

“Is it Donghyuk?”

 

He didn’t give any answer to that one, but his silence spoke volumes and Jisung was left grimacing when he felt his mom’s hand on his shoulder.

 

“Are you okay?” Her voice was so soft, softer than Chenle, even. Although to be fair, being softer than Chenle is an easy feat to do, no matter what aspect of life you’re competing for, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

 

Jisung wanted to tell her what happened (oh, how he really wanted to). But like most upset children standing on the precipice of tears out there, who’s been telling themselves ‘I’m good, I’m good, I’m tough and all cool and I’m not crying, no I’m not’, tears would always come when someone asked you, ‘are you okay?’ and Jisung found himself choking on something that he’d been missing for the last three days. Emotions. Loads and loads of it.

 

So in the end, he could only let out a series of dry sobs while he shook and nodded his head because yes he wanted to tell his mom about what happened but he wasn’t sure if he could do it because uh… speech? Was not coming to him? He was too busy being surprised that his tear ducts haven’t just shrivelled up and ceased to function after he’d cried himself to sleep for so many nights before.

 

“I… I… we… we fought… he… he… he didn’t want to… change and I also… cannot… I don’t want to do it too!” His words came out wrecked heavily with sobs and Jisung was in the least bit glad he managed to at least spout something legible.

 

To the sound of his crying, his mom immediately pulled him close and cooed at him, shushing him in time with her hand rubbing his back in a calming, repetitive movement.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, over and over and over, until his tears subsided and his breathing calmed, and Jisung could speak clearly once more.

 

But instead of complaining about what had happened, a new question popped into his head and Jisung asked it without allowing some time for it to be mulled over, or to wait until the perfect segway for it came about. And by how his mother’s movement was somehow stiffened by it, his question must’ve also caught her off guard,

 

“Why are you okay with me being… being gay?”

 

Silence grew for a little while in between them, only filled with his sharp breathings and cut when Jisung asked another question of his own, “why can’t his parents… be like you?”

 

His mother took a deep sigh and opened to speak. Soft, just like how her fingers felt when they continued on their soothings, “when you were born, I remember telling myself, ‘whoever he’ll be, whatever he wanted to do, I will love him.’”

 

And she did. Day in, day out, even if he wailed for three days straight when he was a baby and she didn’t get any sleep, not even a blink. Even if Jisung yelled at her, saying that he hated her so much for not letting him join the football club because she was afraid he would injure his feet. Even if he never helped her wash the dishes. Even when he said he wanted to study what he loves, not what she wished him to.

 

But she didn’t have to say it. She didn’t have to say it for him to know.

 

“And I did. I hoped I did. Did I?” The playful jab was successful in bringing out the first genuine giggle out of him after such a long time, so long that he’d grown to fear that maybe he could never have a big hearty laugh ever again.

 

“Doesn’t mean that that his parents do not love him,” she said, setting aside the strands of sweat-soaked hair from Jisung’s forehead, “it just means that they are not able to see.”

 

“Will they ever?” Will he ever do that? See?

 

“Probably. Maybe.”

 

Her words were filled with hope. But from how she immediately tightened her hold over him, as if she was trying to shield him from something she knew she couldn’t, Jisung easily guessed that it was of the false kind.

 

No. no they will never see. And Jisung soon learned that he could still feel pain. That it will never, ever truly disappear.

 

_ _ _

 

“Are you free? Can we talk?

D.H”

 

“Yes. Where? When?

J.S”

 

“The cafe near your uni’s library? Lunch? Tomorrow?

D.H”

 

“It’ll be really busy there tomorrow, there’s a club activity.

Let’s just meet at your place.

J.S”

 

“Oh? Ok.
If that's what you want.

D.H”

 

“I have a few things I need to give back to you too.

It will be easier that way.

J.S”

 

_

 

Jisung never knew how much he’d miss Donghyuk’s smile until he saw it once again, when he opened the door to his apartment, calmly asking Jisung to come in with the politeness reserved to strangers.

 

‘That’s better,’ Jisung thought, ‘a clean cut. Less pain, less fuss.’

 

“You left a few of your clothes,” he sighed out a breathy laughter, “don’t worry, I already washed it. Oh, your key is also in it, by the way.”

 

Donghyuk didn’t seem to want to join Jisung on building an amicable atmosphere when he undercut Jisung’s chit chat with a straight-to-the-point question, “is this it?”

 

“I haven’t even put my bag on the floor…”

 

“I just need to know. Is this it?”

 

Jisung straightened up and came face to face with a Donghyuk he’d very rarely seen before. A nervous, anxious Donghyuk that would shift his weight from one foot to the other, thumb nails clacking against each other as he bit his bottom lip raw.

 

“... I’m sorry.”

 

Donghyuk finally laughed after hearing that comment. That confirmation. He chuckled, more accurately. He walked one complete circle before he stopped in front of Jisung, closer than he was before, and extended his hand in the hopes that Jisung would take it. Jisung told himself to be nice that day, and so he did. Right away.

 

“Promise me you won’t hate me,” his voice was no louder than a whispery mumble and it cut Jisung’s heart deeper than any of the scathing remarks that he’d yell during their arguments.

 

“I can never,-”

 

“Please.”

 

Donghyuk’s fingers were clammy, cold, like those of people who were sick of the flu. And Jisung’s throat was itching to let out something witty. Something like ‘you shouldn’t have dyed your hair back to black. You’re sorely missing all of the warmth it could provide you.’ But he knew, the last thing the both of them needed at that moment was anything witty. And so Jisung nodded, a sincere smile on his lips, and he promised. “I won’t.”

 

“It’s not… your fault,” he quickly added, the words stuck at the back of his throat just from the fact that it sounded so fake. And cheesy. Not your fault. Jisung couldn’t believe he would say those words in real life. In a real situation. To a real life partner (ex partner).

 

But what else could he say? That’s the truth. It wasn’t Donghyuk’s fault that this relationship didn’t work out in the end.

 

“And it’s not yours too.”

 

And it’s not my fault too.

 

“It’s just that, our… our…,-”

 

“Our path diverged long ago. I know.”

 

The grip on their hands grew even tighter and Jisung no longer knew whose hands were trembling harder, his, or Donghyuk’s. But does it matter? At least if they part remembering what it felt like, how beautiful the world looked when there was only the two of them. Holding hands. In a silence that doesn’t seem to restrict their breathing tracts. Looking into the other’s gaze without there be the need to claw the life out of it.

 

Then isn’t that enough? It’s more than enough for Jisung.

 

But was it enough for Donghyuk? Jisung wasn’t sure some sappy ol’ hand holding would (because Donghyuk is someone who, as he said so himself, likes something more daring). So, ignoring the blaring shouts in his brain that told him not to, Jisung leaned in a scooped Donghyuk into a big hug.

 

One last hug.

 

Just this one.

 

That’s ok, right? He felt Donghyuk’s fingers bunching the rough fabric of his plaid shirt, his chin digging the soft nook of Jisung’s neck. Donghyuk’s short, rapid breathings tickling the short hairs of his nape, and he felt like everything is going to be alright.

 

Jisung took a deep breath to that, and whispered, “thankyou for everything.” I will never forget it, I will never change any of it, not even a line, he wanted to add, but he knew. He knew that Donghyuk knew.

 

Because he said it himself. Donghyuk took all those words straight from the tip of his tongue and he said them all himself.

 

“Call me a jerk, but I won’t ever wish for this to go any differently. Not even for a single beat.”

 

Chenle might’ve tried to make him laugh so much for the last few days he should’ve changed major into a Performing Arts one, but none of his jokes have landed as well as Donghyuk’s sentence that wasn’t even intended to be a joke.

 

When they parted, Donghyuk’s eyes were all red and puffed and Jisung just couldn’t stop himself from pushing his index finger on Donghyuk’s pink, snotty nose.

 

“Farewell, little dove.” Donghyuk whispered when he led Jisung out of his apartment, the soft click of the door resonating through the afternoon, like the final period on their tale. The last note of their song.

 

“Are you okay?” Chenle, who’s been waiting near the emergency exit, immediately bounced himself off the flimsy wall and walked towards Jisung who was too busy juggling two things at once, trying to walk and trying to wipe the dottings of tears from the edges of his eyes, to answer right away.

 

“I’m good, thanks.” Jisung spoke, when he sensed that his silence only served to increase the level of worry in his friend’s mind.

 

“So? Are we still in on that triple scoops of ice cream or…”

 

His tears were still welling from within his eyelids, but after he found himself letting out the second ring of genuine laughter on that day, it was finally set on stone.

 

He accepted Chenle’s arm around his shoulders without much complaints, even though that means he had to walk around with a slight hunch on his back, “of course we’re still in on that triple scoops of ice cream. I am strong, but not that strong.”

 

He knew, everything is going to be okay.