It’s a glimpse, just a flit of a look from across the room. Taemin’s eyes catch Jongin’s own and it’s like touching a finger unexpectedly to flame, the sharp jolt that shocks through his system. Taemin’s eyes hold Jongin’s gaze, but the moment is brief and gone so quickly, broken with a hand covered laugh at something someone must have said to him. Jongin couldn’t say for sure though, because he’s on the other side of the room, a sea of people between them, although that’s not what's making him feel the distance. 

Normally Jongin would seek Taemin out, weave through the people making small talk in the crowds around them, until he could press palm firm to Taemin’s back, and feel the brush of Taemin’s small hands over his nape. Jongin doesn’t though, his attention pulled by a hand on his arm, the touch bringing his thoughts back down from where he’d been lost in his head, fading back into the conversation happening around him. 

Slowly, little by little, Jongin can feel himself giving up. 

It’s late night that always hits Jongin the worst. When she’s not around, when his schedules are done, when his friends are busy winding down from their own days. It creeps up slowly, one thought into another, and Jongin can’t seem to silence the voices in his head, as they point out all the discrepancies between what was, and what is. What Jongin’s intent in moving forwards had been, and the weight of what he feels since that decision had settled on his shoulders, were in stark contrast to one another. He’d come so far since that moment, since Jongin had allowed himself just a bit too much, and watched as the repercussions caused what he had to crumble like dirt to dust around him. 

Jongin had achieved so much more, was headed down such a better path, a healthier one. He was surrounded by love, by support, and had pushed his