Silence hung in the air. It wasn’t the comfortable type of silence – no, it was the deafening kind of silence. Jihoon hated it. He vehemently detested it, especially if it’s a silence between them.

He glanced at the person sitting on his couch, the slender figure heartbreakingly familiar.

How many years has it been since he had last seen him? Decades maybe? Give or take, he surmised. It had been so long since he had laid eyes on his breathtakingly beautiful face. Pain throbbed inside his chest. He wasn’t the same person he had met eons ago. No. He was just a shell of the person he used to know. They had the same face, ironically with the same name too yet they were completely different persons. He still has that aristocrat aura he had hated and loved. His fingers were still long and pretty, making Jihoon wistfully long for his touch. He internally shook his head. He was not his Jeon Wonwoo. No. He was not the person he had wholeheartedly loved. He never will be.

Sighing quietly, Jihoon put the pot of jasmine tea on a tray together with the other essentials and went to the living room. He laid the tray of tea and biscuits on his coffee table and daintily sat on the other side of the couch. If Wonwoo noticed his stiff shoulders, the Sociology thankfully didn’t call him out on it.

He gingerly took a bite of the biscuits Wonwoo had brought. Ironically, they were gingerbread. How plebeian, he thought with an amused scoff. It was Christmas after all, he supposed. Wonwoo was taking his time making his tea, adding milk and a touch of sugar on his jasmine. The sight reminded him of those summer days in London. Another painful throb to the heart.

Jihoon gathered himself. Their story was for another time. There were more pressing matters to attend to anyway.

He took a sip of his tea – no sugar, just milk – and waited for the other to break the ice.

**

It took about ten minutes for Wonwoo to finally speak. The Sociology major seemed to have gotten the hint that Jihoon would not utter a single word until he did. With a sigh, he put down his tea cup and stared at the blond, those piercing dark brown eyes enrapturing Jihoon like it did in the past. He mentally cursed his self for still feeling drawn by them.

“What did you mean last night?” Wonwoo started. He shifted on the couch to properly look at Jihoon. “What did you mean that Seungcheol was looking at you but not at you?” he expounded, his mouth twisting in slight confusion.

Jihoon faintly smirked. He put down his cup as well and turned his body to face the Sociology major. He cocked his head to side. “What did you think I meant?” he challenged.

Wonwoo released a somewhat combination of a chuckle and a huff. “Are you alluding that Seungcheol saw Soonyoung in you?” he asked, eyebrow raised. “I could see the similarities,” he commented. Jihoon huffed at that which resulted to a snicker from the other. “But it’s still a far stretch to see someone else when you stare at somebody,” he explained. His brows furrowed together, lips pursing. “It’s just impossible.”

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