When Kyungsoo opens his eyes, the dark backdrop from his dreamless sleep transitions foggily into a bunk bed that no one really uses anymore and he realizes the mess of himself among the thick, twisted fabric of his duvet.

Eyes still heavy from sleep, he searches blindly for his phone within the pile of linen, swiping back and forth until he feels the hard rectangular thing in a spot a few feet away from the place where it was last night.

His phone, a battered 2014 Samsung god-knows-what model bleeps a green light sporadically, indicating a message.

Kyungsoo wills himself to stand up, limbs heavy as lead, and rubs the cold hardwood floor with his feet, for good measure. He needs to feel in order to feel truly awake.

“Oh, right. The message,” he mutters to himself.

He isn’t the type to be good with technology, even his fans know this. Gadgets are not attached to his hip unlike Baekhyun or Sehun. Chanyeol insisted for him to have a phone solely for communication in the case that he gets kidnapped or gets lost somewhere, for whatever reason.

A click of a button on the right side turns on the screen. A white, opaque bar shows that Chanyeol is the one who sent the message. Underneath the notification is a photo of him and Jongin.

It’s a recurring trend to Kyungsoo to insist things on him; things that he really does not seem to need or mind having.

“Hyung, you have to set your lock screen so people know who it belongs to,” Kyungsoo remembers Jongin saying a few months ago. It was after Kyungsoo got the phone from a second hand thrift shop across town for only a few thousand won.

“Here,” he said, taking the phone on his hands and stretching his far arm away from them, the camera poised to shoot. His other hand naturally made its way around Kyungsoo’s far shoulder, pulling him closer into the frame.

“Cheese,” Jongin said, all teeth and beautiful tan skin, while Kyungsoo, unprepared, was caught staring at him, confusion apparent in his large, doe-like eyes.

“Don’t change it, okay, hyung?” the younger mused, grinning despite himself. “Whatever happens?”

 Kyungsoo smiles wistfully at the memory, unlocking the device with a pin Minseok set for him (“2, 4, 6, 8: a cross so you it will always remind you of Jesus”, he said, earning a slap on the thigh from Junmyeon).

A tap expands the message.

                Chanyeol: Kai. Dating scandal. Call me when you read this.

Kyungsoo becomes painfully aware of his breathing as he perused the message. Once. Twice. Three times. The content isn’t changing. A wave of vertigo crashes over him, his phone slipping from his grip, before it fell to the ground with a thump, collapsing in 3 separate pieces.

Happy New Year to me, I guess.

--

At some point, Kyungsoo was living in his own fantasy, everyone was happy, he was happy. There is a hollowness in him now, as he trudges onward, his shoes grating on thin ice. He still doesn’t know why he’s doing this, going to Jongin’s place. Maybe the both of them are inside for all he knew. He learns the full detail on the television as he tries to distract himself from the text message, and he now laughs at this bitterly because someone must have thought this was funny.

He knows Jongin’s place by heart, and going there was like on auto-pilot. Despite the nothingness that goes through his mind, he still takes the correct turn, mere meters away from what seems to be like his demise.

Kyungsoo, at one point, reads about people who cut themselves. He reads that they hurt themselves in order to feel real, to control their own pain and to feel something apart from the icy numbness of everything.

Kyungsoo is resolute at going to Jongin’s place, even with the full knowledge that he is going to get hurt.

--

“Hyung!”

Kyungsoo exhales, white puffs of condensation appear. He is in front of Jongin’s house now, and it seems empty by the way no lights are on and the door is bolted shut. He feels like , standing outside in the cold like this. He forgot his gloves, so his hands are shoved against his coat, trying to save them from the frigid and unforgiving temperature.

“Hyung!”

Kyungsoo sighs, a second time, this time a second longer. Does he really want to have this conversation with Jongin? Is he in the right state of mind to do so? It is an internal conflict, debating whether to push through or not. Maybe Jongin isn’t even home yet. Kyungsoo decides that this is the best course of action. He takes one last look at his house and takes a step back, knocking into someone.

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo says absentmindedly, looking at the pavement. A pair of hands clasp his shoulders and a beautiful face peers over him.

“Hyung! I’ve been calling you since I was on the first block. What are you doing here?” Jongin says, his voice colored with concern.

Don’t act like you’re concerned about me, Jongin.

“Hyung?” Kyungsoo doesn’t respond to this. Jongin digs on the smaller’s pockets and held the cold hands that was kept in there.

“How long have you been standing here?” His voice sounds exasperated, even angry to Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo responds by looking at the mailbox beside him.

“Just… Let’s just go inside first, okay? I can’t bear seeing you cold like this,” Jongin’s voice is suddenly tender, gingerly tugging him by the hand, leading him to his home.

There are no cameras, stop acting, Jongin.

--

“Hyung, please have a seat first, I’ll get you a hot pack and I’ll get you something warm to drink, okay?” Jongin says, and he feels a smile from Jongin as he says it.

"Jongin, is it true?" It was abrupt. A pregnant pause. Kyungsoo stares at the velvet couch beside him, not in any way planning to sit down. Kyungsoo's voice sounds eerily distant, even to himself, detached and so far away. He can't bear to look at the younger's handsome face, not now, else all the resolve he came here with will dissolve like smoke dissipating into thin air.

"What are you talking about, hyung?" Jongin tries to stall, but it only catalyzes everything Kyungsoo tries oh so carefully to contain.

"You know exactly what the I'm talking about!" Kyungsoo closes his eyes shut, his breath hitching, trying, grasping on nothing to keep himself together. He starts shaking profusely, and it’s not even from the cold.

"Hyung..." Jongin moves a step closer and Kyungsoo sees it on his peripheral vision. White shirt on tan skin. He backs away, two steps farther. His steps are wobbly as he trembles and sighs, hoping for everything to already end.

“Don’t call me hyung! Don’t call me Jagi! Don’t call me anything!” Kyungsoo broke. The room is deadly silent that you can hear a pin drop.

It was all a fantasy anyway, and now it’s time to wake up from the delusion.

“Hyung, don’t be like that, please,” Jongin pleads, not taking any step further in order to not scare Kyungsoo enough to leave.

Kyungsoo tries so hard to not break down and cry in front of Jongin, but the pain inside his chest hurt so much that he feels like being punched in the gut.

“Is it true then,” Kyungsoo holds the arm of the couch to steady himself, his legs about to give in. “That you’re dating… her.”

“Hyung…” Kyungsoo sees him trying to take a step towards him. “Don’t ing come near me!”

I’m such a coward, Jongin.

“Answer me, Jongin!” Kyungsoo says, this time looking directly at him.

“Yes, hyung.” Jongin says, making eye contact.

It was a mistake, looking at him.

Kyungsoo feels his legs give out and he is forced to sit on his legs, placing a fist over his mouth to try to hold back the torrent of tears attempting to wash away the pain.

Why does it hurt so much?

“I’m sorry, hyung. I couldn’t tell you, I couldn’t tell anyone,” Jongin clenches both his fists at the statement.

“Do you think I’m like this because you didn’t tell me?” Kyungsoo almost laughs at this. He feels so pathetic at this point.

“Tell me again, Jongin. Were our moments caught on camera feel real to you?” Jongin flinches at the statement, his eyes becoming steely. “What about off camera?”

Kyungsoo knew fully that they were both men in the entertainment industry. But the way Jongin looked at him sometimes gave him hope. But apparently, they were all deceptions. They will never live a happy life with that.

It was Jongin’s turn to look away, his fists still curled tightly into a fist so hard that it will almost break skin.

“I’m a fool, Jongin. I’m a ing fool for believing you. I loved you.” The knife in Kyungsoo’s heart digs in deeper with every word he says. The most painful was the lie he had to tell. If Kyungsoo is honest with himself, he still loved him, and very much so. But he had to say it to protect his pride. That he can move on from heartbreak and deceit.

“You don’t get a word with this, Jongin. I’m leaving.”

Kyungsoo bolts towards the door, with one last glance to Jongin, who made no motion to let him go like this. With a slam of the door, he runs as fast as he can. He trips on the first turn, falling on both hands.

Once the first tear breaks free, the rest of it follows in a non-ending stream. Kyungsoo bent forward as he begins to cry with a force of a person vomiting.

It hurts so ing much.

Maybe in another life, Kyungsoo would be a girl and Jongin would accept him.

Kyungsoo didn’t hear the curses and the thrown furniture inside Jongin’s house.

Maybe in another life, Jongin would make him stay.

Maybe in another life, they would be happier.

“Happy new year to me.”