"Junmyeon...you know this is for the best, right?" 

The smaller doesn't quite meet his eyes, and only nods as he focuses on their entwined hands. It doesn't matter anyway. Both of them are on the verge of a breakdown and Yifan is finding it so damn hard to even stand right now. Instead of saying anymore, Yifan pulls Junmyeon into him, and the smaller pushes his head into the other's shoulder, biting his lip. 

If he tried to speak now, nothing would come out, his throat to dry from the screaming, the retaliation. It'd been a few days since he woke up to half his family dead from the car crash he caused; he can't say he regrets anything. Everything was done for a reason. That's the only reason he'd signed his life away and hour ago, and now he only had another nights sleep before everything went away. Before everything he knew would vanish. All his closest friends, his family, his lover. Everything gone. 

And so, like a desperate cat, clinging to a tree, he grabbed fistfuls of Yifan's shirt and held onto him for dear life. "Don't leave." He managed to croak and that emitted a soft, hoarse chuckled from the other's mouth. 

"I can't." Yifan replied, "not with your death grip anyway."

Junmyeon doesn't know how Yifan can manage to make him laugh, even in a situation like this, but he does and the sound that Junmyeon makes is a cross between sobbing choking, but a laugh nonetheless. Yifan's hands encircle his small stature and they stand like that, mixing in each other's breaths. 

When night falls, they're ordered to bed and Yifan doesn't hesitate to pull Junmyeon into his room. And there they lay, both unable to sleep, unable to speak. Yifan basks in the reality of it all; tomorrow neither of them will remember each other, or why they're even there. They'll be told different stories. 

But it's a sacrifice both of them are willing to make. Yifan sighs, tracing Junmyeon's face with his careful, slender fingers. 

"I love you." He whispers softly. 

-

-

Junmyeon jolts awake, head pounding. His hands immediately come back to his face, the ghost fingers of the other in his dream felt too real as if they were really there. Junmyeon's cheeks are burning red, and he doesn't know why the hell for. First of all, why was Yifan even in his dreams? And second, why did it seem like they were lovers from a distopian universe? Junmyeon feels shivers just thinking about it and his skin feels hot. 

Junmyeon thinks back to his limited interactions he's had with the other, a notably he can only count them on one of his hands. One particular moment sticks in his head. The cleaners closet. Secluded, closed and hot is all that comes to mind, and Junmyeon buries his head in his hands. His stomach twists as he thinks about Yifan's hot breath down his nape, possessive grip on his own wrists-

No! Junmyeon jumps out of bed, as if the bed has an electrical current. He needs to clear his head; right now. Pulling on some track suits and a loose shirt, Junmyeon plugs in the loudest, most blaring music he dares and turns the volume of his headphones on high. 

The weather outside is dreary and he will probably be late to school, maybe catch a cold within a few days, but Junmyeon doesn't care. Anything to clear his head and maybe the blood that has miraculously pooled down south, although for what reasons he can't explain. 

-

-

Wu Yifeng was a