JUST ONCE

Darkness flooded the room, but Sehun could perfectly define the shape of the closet. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at it. He had more than engraved in his mind how the inside looked like if he opened its doors. In one half were his clothes, folded and hung, just as always. And on the other, an empty space that had been occupied not even two weeks ago.

He would be lying if he said that he had got used to it—not only to the closet, but to the apartment in general. Every single room reminded him of Yixing. Sehun could see themselves eating in the dining room; cooking or washing the dishes in the kitchen; reading, watching movies, cuddling or dancing in the living room. Standing in the balcony on winter, wrapped in a blanket just enjoying the cold breeze. He could see Yixing sleeping, with the moonlight coming through the window in the bedroom and washing him completely, looking like the most perfect being he had ever seen in his life.

His fingertips could still feel the softness of Yixing’s hair and skin, and his eyes could still remember the countless times they had traveled along Yixing’s body, finding and loving every single scar and mole. His nose could still register Yixing’s scent in the air, even if it had long since disappeared. And his lips could definitely still rekindle the kisses they had shared in every single corner of the apartment.

He somehow found interesting how one day you had something that seemed to be perfect, and then, without even noticing how, or when, or why, it simply faded away, as if it had never been there in the first place. It was part of life, Sehun guessed. To go through sudden changes and learn to live with what was brought with them.

He himself was still trying to figure out how to deal with his own life’s changes. Yixing had become a fundamental pillar in his life, but now that he wasn’t here, Sehun felt that a part of him had been torn off and replaced by a hole in his chest.

He had tried to convince himself that it had been the right decision. That letting Yixing go had been the best he could do. But no matter how hard he tried, there was no way his heart could understand that Yixing was gone. It missed him; needed him. It yearned to feel him close and synchronize its heartbeat with that of Yixing’s own heart.

There was, however, no way for his heart to get what it wanted. They had promised to put a big distance between them, hoping they wouldn’t be weak enough to run back to each other’s arms. It had hurt, but Sehun had let it happen, with the certainty that Yixing would be better that way—even if that had meant that he would have to sacrifice his own well-being. He hadn’t cared and now he was facing the consequences of it.

Throughout the last two weeks, he had been standing on the edge between sadness and acceptance.

Some days he had had the fortune of waking up and seeing the sun shine. He could tell himself that everything would be fine; that he could continue with his life as it was before Yixing had appeared. And if he tried hard enough, sometimes the emptiness in his chest became almost imperceptible.

Sehun wasn’t always lucky, though. There had been other days when he hadn’t seen the sun shining, even if it was coming through the windows. And those days had been the worst, because a huge wave of emotions grew inside him, threatening to drag and hold him back in the bottom of the sea, far from the shore where he could be safe.

He had gone through this process a few times before, but never had it hurt as much as this one. Yixing was special to him in more ways than anybody else had ever been, and Sehun was sure that forgetting him would take longer than what he wanted. He had once heard that people overcame breakups in half the time the relationship had lasted and he was scared. He had barely made it through a pair of weeks; how was he supposed to deal with it for the next two years?

Sighing, he got up and pulled out a shirt and a pair of sweats from the closet, getting ready to sleep. It wasn’t even midnight, but he had nothing better to do, and sleeping helped him forget his reality.

Once back in the bed, he completely ignored Yixing’s empty side and got in, burying himself deep in the blankets. He had been trying to sleep with his back to that side, so as not to feel Yixing’s absence. That way he could pretend that he had always lived alone and Yixing had never been there. That he was a random person Sehun had met once; someone who wasn’t important. That he didn’t miss him and didn’t want him back. That he was alright and didn’t love him anymore.

But there were nights when the empty spot beside him felt impressively big, overwhelming him and not letting him sleep—and tonight was one of those nights.

With his eyes closed, Sehun took a few deep breaths, trying to relax. He just needed to calm down and ignore his surroundings, and then sleepiness would come by itself. But the more he tried, the more awake he felt. He rolled o