II. Edelweiss

It is edelweiss; he looks it up after the first petal reaches his tongue.

It's cute, he thinks, caressing the incarnation of his bashful love, secret and silenced, the meaning of it fits with his sentiment perfectly: courage and devotion. Courage for Seungyoon, who is brave and strong and talented; he has always spoken frankly, openly, as if he hasn't any fears or regrets. Devotion for how his love toward him is, unwavering, evergreen, infinite. It's good to know that after all his persistence has brought something good since the flower on his hand is white and lovely; the pure expression of his own feelings for Seungyoon. Seunghoon smiles the smallest; his eyes locked on the screen, his ears listening attentively to Seungyoon laugh at the far end of his room that makes his heart tremble in delight. It has always been like this; he has always loved Seungyoon – as a friend, as a brother, as something different, completing his chest and melting away the lonely feelings that have settled inside of him since the beginning of their long hiatus, casting away the shadows of phantoms, the grey, dullness of empty days without a purpose, painting the dark places of his soul with his smile and the way he worked for them to success, for their comeback to be a hit even when they were only four and their future was hanging on, in an indefinite place, swaying on the wind, wavering.

The moment he agreed to not move out with him, both staying in the same old dorm, was, probably, one of the happiest moments he has ever faced. Falling for him was more natural and gradual than expected: stolen glances and soft smiles, a bit more caring than how he was with the rest but, wasn’t he the maknae? He always made sure that he was ok and it was fine until it took his heart away and then, he knew. He has always looked after Seungyoon like a familiar would; a type of love that knows no borders and that pours in any action, cooking, taking care of him, ensuring that he eats well: that he doesn't get away with work, forgetting to live. He thought it was more like a fraternal link. It wasn't. It was love since the begging, pure and simple and clean, a love that now is blossoming inside his lungs with white, fluffy petals that graze his throat like his fingers would. And he is amazed by that, by how something can grow inside, rooting in between his organs and veins, nourishing under his skin with every beat of his broken heart, – broken because he is throwing up flowers instead of been with him as he dreams about.

He tells Jinwoo; after all that’s what best friends are for and he understands; he gives him his best advice, thoughtful and sincere; let it all dry and go away – because this is what someone who he knows has done and it worked out, but he has also known that Seunghoon won’t do that, he won’t be able to stop loving only because his head tells him so, he won’t bother and, in the end, he will die and he will cry hard for his lost but he would have lived the fullest, enjoying even in the pain of suffering alone because that’s who Seunghoon is and he doesn’t want him any less for allowing his heart to grow fond of Seungyoon, to love him in silence but tenaciously, giving it all his might, all his endless passion and thoughts. He thinks about it, about seeing him in a bed of white and yellow, collapsing, gasping for air and only been able to breathe in petals; it’s harsh and he holds onto the memory of his friend alive, laughing, been irremediable, irrevocably in love. He sighs and he does what he does the best, because in Seunghoon live impossible hopes and expectations that will prevent his heart from dropping, his love from combusting into a fire of tears and stuttering dreams and he can afford to lose him too, not when he has lost so many things, gave up so much.

Seungyoon knows; it's not hard to suspect; he isn't doing a good job about it and, anyway, Seungyoon was once pocking in this same sink where Seunghoon is throwing up flustering flowers, too.

He knows too well how it taste to have a lifeless petal swirling inside your mouth, how it sticks against your tongue how it dyes the skin with the citrus colours of a sunset. He has been there before, coughing flowers for a love that wasn't meant to be reciprocated. And he was alright because he knew it so well and, when it ended, it was more a relief than a painful memory. It should have been since he loved Taehyun, but his departure was the something that cut his blooming period, showing its true hues and the love he treasured inside his chest just died, painless. It wasn't as bad as novels make it be, it was just sad and plain and, in a way, uninspiring. He didn't write songs about it, even when the flowers were beautiful orange blossoms. It was alright for him, but it isn't for Seunghoon, he can see it, how deep in love he is for a person who doesn't care about his honest feelings: After all Seunghoon is the one who always carries his heart on his sleeve.

Seungyoon looks at him, hiding in the bathroom, the sound of the toilet being flushed and the last bit of a cough leaving his parted lips, and he feels a tug in his chest; who is that person who Seunghoon loves so much? Who is that person who is making his hyung suffer like this? He wants to know but he is afraid of ask him, too ashamed to admit that he has been there, too, to share his own load with someone who carries too many burdens already – and sometimes he would like to tell him not to worry, that he can count on him, rely on him, too, that it’s ok to cry; he is always trying too hard to laugh and cheer them up.

He wonders who wouldn’t fall for him, he, the man with uncountable charms; hard worker, charismatic, intelligent, clever, witty perfect. He is blessed to have met him, from between a hundred, millions of people, he has found his other half, a real brother for who he can’t do anything at the moment but to watch him suffer in silence, worry about his heart beats and guess the colour of the next puff of petals coming from his mouth when he thinks he isn’t looking – but he is always looking at him.

He stares at him when he stares back, laughing softly and Seungyoon finds it amusing, enchanting, fascinating: he looks fierce at him and Seunghoon, in return, smiles bright, cheeks hued with crimson and he is just adorable – and his heart drops, tumbling inside his chest for a second that seems far longer than just it.

Is then, when Seunghoon is leaving his side on the couch that he catches a glimpse of his skin, toned and perfect and he wants to corroborate if it is as smooth as it seems. He caresses it, excusing the gesture with a low “don’t go hyung, it’s cold” and Seunghoon sits back on his empty spot, pulling him closer until his hands collide on his shoulders and Seungyoon rest his head on the crook of his neck, inhaling the sweet essence of his hair – like flowers he can’t name. It’s warm and he feels at ease, his fingers adoringly touching his arms, sliding under his wrists and the shirt he wears, tracing circles, reassuringly – even when he doesn’t know why he is comforting him. But Seunghoon giggles and, again, it’s so beautiful, like sun beans, the summer brightening the room, pushing an awful winter day away. He feels a bit anxious because Seunghoon has felt so deep for someone that is giving up his own life and he isn’t even trying to change it, to put a halt to it, cut the roots that are entangling with his bones and flesh; instead he keeps on falling, swirling deeper, dwelling into a vortex that will kill him. But, beneath it he feels uneasy; it’s not that he is afraid of losing him - he is, he is so darn much scared, he doesn’t want to learn to survive without him, without a sun in the sky, without laughs that cracks and lightens the space –  but to find that Seunghoon would spend his last days away from him, keeping distance and the thought is painting his mind with black shadows and that night he cries for the first time, mumbling his name against the pillows, wiping tears with the back of his hand.

Jinwoo tells him, in a hurried tone, as if making a confession – and it feels just like it as if sitting in a church. His name escapes his lips and the secret falls in the open; now he knows it too.

It’s him the one that keeps Seunghoon awake at night, the meaning after all his tears and the flowers he throws up every day when he is awake. It hurts to realize that he is the one killing him, the one who is ing with his mind, making it rain, making flowers bloom inside his chest until they will be the only thing left and it will be his fault, for not loving him back as he deserves. He is the one behind the story, the main writer, who is creating the pain that keeps Seunghoon awake, restless, ruthlessly in love and he can’t help him, save him from himself.

He wants to.

Seungyoon thinks that falling for him shouldn’t be that complicated, in the end, he loves him – and he has expressed his admiration, how handsome he is in his opinion, how great, amazing he considers Seunghoon. – So he closes his eyes and pictures it in his mind; the image is nice, it feels, somehow, right, to be held by him, his hands around his neck, his chin resting over his head, a back hug that allows him to kiss his Adam’s apple. It’s warm and it makes his heart tumble.

It has been a month and Seungyoon looks up at Seunghoon, his cheeks flustered at the mere sight of the older smiling softly at him. He has been thinking about him all night – and day, too. He can’t help it; he is the happiest when he is around, bathed with his playfulness, his cheekiness, all the sides of him that he discloses every day and that he will miss terribly.

Seunghoon smirks, sitting next to him. He holds his hands and he looks into his eyes as if talking to his soul, grazing his skin. He feels loved and, as usual, he accepts it all, blushing hard.

“Do you – like me?” he asks out of nowhere. Seungyoon blinks at him and makes him laugh. “Do you know I had the hanahaki disease, didn’t you? Jinwoo told me” he starts, trying to find the words to explain what he means, “he said that he has told you it all, so the fact that it has been a while since last time I cough flowers can only mean that you reciprocate my feelings”

Seungyoon’s eyes are wide open, surprised. So that’s the name. Love. It is love. It has always been love even when he couldn’t recognise it. It has been love since the starts, from the stars to the centre of the earth, forever.

He nods instead.

Seunghoon kisses him then and the world stops spinning, the songs in his head shut up and his name is the only sound he can make, pouring it into his lips.

“I love you”.

And he thinks about scolding Jinwoo for revealing his secret but doesn't bother; he is too busy tasting Seunghoon's soft skin.