The night was alive. It was calling him. It was luring him someplace, a place he’d been to before, where he would easily fall even though he’d been through that times before. He knew he was just in the threshold. A single tiny push and he would lean forward, splitting the air, down into the chasm. Yet at the same time, he was binding himself with rope, and that was his last string of awareness.

The time was early A.M. and Hoseok was more awake than ever. The night chased him down, trying to pull him to the dark and rip him of his wakeful mind. In response, Hoseok inhaled, catching the smells of bittery alcohol, virile sweat, damp sheets, and greasy hair. He had to stay awake no matter what.

Hoseok released himself from the thin blanket. He looked at the window, basking in the faint, cold light. Then he turned around, staring at the man beside him who was asleep with bare shoulders and pale chest showing from the quilt. Hoseok felt a thump in his chest seeing how peacefully Yoongi was sleeping.

He slowly brought his nose to that black hair, inhaling deeply. He loved the smell. Then he put his face on the shoulder. The warm crook of his neck. He traced the intimate smell of their bodies.

What do I do now?

He had a sudden urge to feel and hear the gushing wind. The rushing of cars. The silent burning of streetlamps. Just anything far from this room. Anything far from comfort. He got off the bed and put on some clothes. He might have worn Yoongi’s shirt, but he didn’t care. He put on Yoongi’s cap too.

On his way out, he accidentally glanced at the mirror. He looked like Yoongi.

The apartment was cold, but outside was colder and drier. Walking through the corridor, he started to feel alone. Solitude had always been with him all the time, but he just suddenly noticed it.

It’s not bad. Not bad at all.

The night still tried to drag him back to the room with the endless dark cycle that would follow. Hoseok kept his eyes on lights and walked. Entering the lift. Fiddling with the key in his pocket. When he reached the outside world, he looked up. The moon was not exactly up anymore—it was getting ready to set. But the darkness was still unmistakable, and Hoseok felt safe. As long as it’s still dark, he still could find a light and think and wake. Nothing is more balanced than that—fifty of light and fifty of dark. And cold—he needed the cold.

Settled on a park bench, looking at the lonely, contrasting lamppost, he repeated the question, what do I do now?

Play it back, press rewind. He recalled his body tangling with Yoongi’s, their minds and heartbeats one, veiny fingers brushing through his spine, deep voice praising him, loving him, worshipping him, warmth shared through every move; everything too much for Hoseok to take.

They were like fire, fire without smoke, blazing and burning but never hurting.

But Hoseok didn’t keep love around anymore. He no longer did.

So what did he do now?

It’s never too late to retreat—he’s still sane and awake. And as the moon sets later, as the sky gains hue and the cold light turns warm, he would have to have decided. Whether he does now, or not.

Things come and pass, and if Hoseok was to keep love around, it would be bound to decay.

Yet if he was to let go, he would be left weightless. The atmosphere would engulf him, he would be cold, and the warm darkness would not accept him anymore.

So, what do I do now?

Do, now?

Deep inside, Hoseok longed to be broken. But he didn’t keep love around.

When he closed his eyes, he still saw Yoongi. But he no longer kept love around.

The rayless sky above him was ready with an answer, but he kept his eyes to the light. He heard the breeze. He felt his feet on ground.

“Yoongi,” he tried, hoping the feel of the name in his mouth would provide some kind of providence. But there’s no such thing. There’s no such thing as being fated to someone or having someone meant for you. It’s just him yearning, wanting, craving for the man, for the gentle and tight embrace, for the mix of warm and cold, for the shivers, for the little contented smile, for the anchor weighing him down, for the little bit of everything that only love could give to him on a silver plate.

Love is a bit of everything, anything from both extremes, and Hoseok knew of this transcendental experience. It’s beyond good and bad, beyond his head, beyond the earth, beyond the stars. Delusion it might be, but it throws him around here and there, it would keep him to the earth and the hearth, it would keep him from floating and being swallowed, it would make him be anything. But Hoseok had been broken from it, for it’s something beyond the humanly, and was it worth the price he paid?

There’s no room for first or last chance. And if he’s with Yoongi, maybe he could be strong for it all. Maybe with Yoongi, he could experience it not all by himself. Maybe he wouldn’t feel alone when together, if it’s with Yoongi.

After all, they’re a fire with no smoke. And in the warm darkness, they could see.

Do, now?