A/N: This chapter is so long I had to split it in two parts. Anyway, it's set in June of 2019 (cursed month) and the date is so specific because it's after Seungyoon had to go to the hospital for an erniatic disc, and it's just me using real life events to advance the plot but, as you will see, it makes sense. Also, these two are so stupid and I hate them. Just make out, please and thank you.

Be careful because you might fall asleep to the sound of me repeating the same thing for the umpteenth time.

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ksy - june 4, 2019

He was getting frustrated. He hated lying in bed, doing nothing, but the doctors had told him that he needed to rest, and he knew his fans would worry, if he didn’t. The problem was that, when he didn’t have anything to do, he was somehow forced to think, think even about what he’d been trying to avoid thinking about for a long time.
 
On the other hand, even though he was loaded with painkillers and there was a brace around his neck, the pain was almost overwhelming, and his head hurt so much he could barely think about anything at all. He was suspended between those two states: between not being able to think and having nothing else to do but that.
 
And it was strange, because the only thought that filled his mind in that moment, was Hanbin. It’d been months. Months since he’d so stupidly and selfishly kissed him, months since he’d realised that he needed to put an end to whatever they had going on, because it’d started to feel like poison.
 
He’d kept himself busy, had tried to avoid him as much as he could, but they always inevitably met, one way or another, and it always hurt. Because they had to pretend nothing was wrong, as they’d always done, after all, even when everything was wrong.
 
He knew Hanbin was staying away from him because of what he’d told him that day, in the supply closet, but he never missed that hint of painful longing in his eyes, when he looked at him, for barely a second. It was always just a glint, before the younger went back to pretending they didn’t know each other.
 
And it was strange, to act like they’d never told each other every dark and messy secret of their souls, like they’d never held each other as they cried and broke down. He wished he had forgotten him, but the only thing he’d managed to do was keep his head so occupied he wouldn’t even have time to think about him, to engulf himself in work so much he could only be exhausted when he came back home, and he didn’t even have time to think, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
 
But Hanbin was always there, even when he didn’t want him to be. He was there, with his soft smile and his sad eyes, with his beautiful soul and damaged heart. What was the point in lying when he was alone? He missed him, he missed him so damn much. He was as cold as he’d been that night of two years before, and he missed that warmth that had saved him.
 
He kept hoping that the younger had forgotten him, but, after all, every time he saw him, he understood that he hadn’t. That he would talk to him again, if he could. He wanted him to get over him, he wanted him to forget the person who had abandoned him without even a reason, hurt him over and over again, but he knew that he would run back into his arms, if he asked him to, and he hated it. He hated it because he wouldn’t deserve it. At least, he felt like he couldn’t hurt him anymore, not in the same way as before, anyway, and their distance was eventually going to heal his wounds, and he would eventually move on.
 
Without even knowing why, Seungyoon knew that he would be able to get him out of his mind only once he forgot him first. Because love might have been a frail and fleeting emotion that had the potential to ruin everything, but he still felt it; sometimes he wished he could eradicate his heart from his chest, just to stop feeling that way.
 
He’d sworn to himself that he would never feel like that for anyone ever again, that he would always push everyone away, once he realised that they were getting more important, that he was getting too attached, because he couldn’t allow himself to fall in love again. The fact that Hanbin was already his friend, before all that mess had started, had complicated everything.
 
But it was stupid to linger on those thoughts, because he’d told himself those words, had kept twisting them into his mind for months, since he’d put an end to it all. Always desperately trying to justify his actions, justify what he’d done. The only way he could truly explain it, was that he’d been weak. He’d been terribly weak, and he’d preferred to lie to himself, to pretend that he wasn’t feeling anything, instead of admitting it right away. Maybe that was had messed everything up.
 
He’d been honest, at least once, at least with himself, before that night, the night when he’d finally broken down. That had been a weird part of his life. He’d spent the previous year having occasional relationships with people that eventually walked away, telling him that he worked too much and never gave them any attention, without realising that he’d been doing it on purpose all along. He’d long realised that what he’d been hanging on for almost a year hadn’t been his feelings for Taehyun, but the pain for having lost something he’d thought would last forever, and had told himself that he couldn’t do it again, that he couldn’t love again. He’d thought everything was going fine, he’d thought he was doing fine, but he’d only been lying to himself after all.
 
He still remembered when Hanbin had finally broken and had mistakenly revealed his own emotions. He still remembered how he’d felt when he’d muttered those words, exhausted. And he still remembered the cold that had aded his bones, like his blood had stopped flowing. He didn’t even know what he’d thought, his mind had just short-circuited in that moment. He hadn’t been able to believe what he was hearing; he’d desperately tried to convince himself that he thought he was saying those words to someone else. He’d stopped breathing, and it was almost terrifying to recall.
 
Then, he’d felt angry, he was sure of it, so angry, and had almost yelled at him, telling him that he deserved so much better than him, and everything he would do was hurt him. He’d been right, after all. He knew himself too well. He’d felt so shaken up he’d had to leave. After that, he remembered that, when he’d gotten to his apartment complex, he’d walked to the roof, out of instinct, because that was where he’d spent most of his nights for almost two years; only when he was finally completely alone with the starless sky, he’d come back to his senses.
 
He’d almost collapsed to the ground, feeling a sudden urge to scream, like someone had just stabbed him through the heart; he’d almost held a hand to his chest, to halt an imaginary bleeding that couldn’t be stopped. He’d told himself that it was because he felt guilty about having to break someone’s heart, but he’d immediately known that it wasn’t the real reason why he was almost feeling sick. He’d realised that he couldn’t stop thinking about the younger, about literally everything, not just the words he’d said; about his sad but gleaming eyes, about his soft voice, about how it felt to hold his hand, about how it felt to hold him. He desperately wanted him to be happy, but he liked it when he was the one making him happy, and it would always be like that, that still hadn’t changed; when he knew that he was helping him, it made his soul peaceful.
 
He’d told himself that it was because they were friends, and it was only natural, but he’d immediately known that he was lying to himself; because wanting to kiss your friends wasn’t normal, wanting to look at their faces while they slept wasn’t normal. He’d realised that he’d thought about it before, but had always pushed the thought at the bottom of his mind, and had always removed the memory of it, aware that he was basically asking for another heartbreak.
 
That night he hadn’t slept and, against his better judgement, he hadn’t left either; like a fool, the moment Hanbin had asked him not to leave, he hadn’t thought about it twice. He hadn’t found the courage to tell him that he felt the same, because he still had to figure it out by himself, unsure about what that meant, only knowing that he’d broken the promise he’d made to himself and he shouldn’t have done that.
 
In retrospect, he knew that he should’ve left then, that he should’ve put an end to it all before he fell in too deep, but he hadn’t, maybe because he’d wanted to give himself a chance to be happy by just being by his side, and that had been terribly selfish, because he’d only made Hanbin suffer more than necessary. Of course, the younger was the one who’d always desperately asked him not to leave, but, by the simple fact that he’d told him that his emotions hurt, he should’ve listened to him and he should’ve known that something was irremediably going to happen that was going to pull them apart.
 
He’d hoped that everything would be fine, and they could continue being friends, but a couple of drops of alcohol had demonstrated the contrary. He knew he’d acted like a jerk back then, but that imprudent kiss had made him realise that he was still too damaged to love someone and was only going to keep hurting him, even if he remained as his friend; he was the only one who was supposed to be drowning and he couldn’t drag anyone with him. He didn’t even know if he’d done it to save him or to save himself, and he didn’t want an answer.
 
He didn’t even know why he was so scared to love: he didn’t know if he was afraid because he knew that at some point he was going to find himself unavoidably bruised and trying not to break, or because he knew that at some point he was going to hurt the one he loved both with his words and his carelessness. But he was, and it was enough to make him think that he’d made the right choice, pushing him away. He’d only done it for him, after all.
 
Out of sudden, he heard an incredibly unnecessary and bothering commotion at the front door, which made him snap out of his thoughts, and made a desperate yet vain attempt of turning his head towards the entrance. He didn’t know what was going on, and if the others had decided that they wanted to pay him a surprise visit (although he was sure he’d specifically asked Seunghoon not to let them in if they did, because he was already loud enough by himself and he knew it got one thousand times worse when they were around), they were making too much noise for his already buzzing ears and for his overly tired mind and body. He loved them, but he’d rather if they let him be, at least for a day, since he’d just come back home, and he just wanted to rest. Not like he’d been succeeding in doing so, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to keep trying, hoping to find some peace in that tangle of thoughts that didn’t want to leave his mind.
 
He indistinctly heard voices talking further down the hallway, and maybe he was going crazy, but he could swear he could hear Hanbin’s voice—maybe he missed him so much, in the miserable state he was currently in, that he was making things up, and it would’ve made sense. The fact that he was drowning in painkillers had already made him admit and think so many things he would’ve preferred to keep buried forever, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself, now.
 
It was true, he missed the younger, and he knew that, after all, no matter how much he lied to himself, he had feelings for him, feelings that refused to be erased or forgotten, and it was difficult to ignore him. But he knew why he’d pushed him away, in such an irremediable way. Because he didn’t want to hurt him, and he knew that he would keep doing it if they kept sticking together, holding onto something that couldn’t last and would eventually break if they didn’t let go.
 
And yet he couldn’t pretend that he wouldn’t have given anything to have him there, in that moment, with him, looking at him with his beautiful melancholic eyes, making him feel that warmth he so missed, now. The problem was that he couldn’t actually be there, that he was making up things in his pain, because he hadn’t dared approach him for half a year, after everything that he’d told him, and he knew he was doing it because he knew something was wrong, and probably wanted to talk to him, but couldn’t find the courage. Nothing had changed, and nothing would change in his behaviour, he was sure.
 
That was why he was rather surprised when, realising that all the commotion had quieted down, he expected to see his hyung appear on the door, explaining what had happened, following the footsteps approaching outside, but instead came face to face with a rather flustered Hanbin. He’d half-barged into the room, but was only standing on the entrance, staring at him like he’d seen a ghost. He seemed incredibly agitated, his hair was a mess and he seemed tired, like he hadn’t slept at all that night. He wondered what had happened, but he couldn’t figure it out.
 
Seeing him like that made his heart ache, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He wished he could run to him and hug him, hold him close, but there was a long list of reasons why he couldn’t do that. The first being that he couldn’t move an inch without feeling like his entire body was breaking apart. The second being that they hadn’t talked alone in a long time, and he’d told him that they couldn’t see each other anymore, out of the blue, without even giving him an explanation. He didn’t understand why he was there. He really didn’t. But he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t glad to see him.
 
He forced a smile on his face, feeling like he could barely move it, but he meant it; he was happy, although a bit taken aback and unsure what to say. After a moment, the younger seemed to snap out of whatever trance he’d fallen into and slightly shook his head, without reciprocating the smile. He seemed lost, like he didn’t even know how he’d ended up there. It was barely for a second, before the expression on his face shifted to something incredibly outraged, which made him seem like he was glowering, with his uncharacteristic light hair.
 
Seungyoon could only observe him as he walked up to him, slowly, looking in his direction with something wary he couldn’t understand in his eyes. They just looked at each other, in perfect silence, and the older felt like Hanbin was boring a hole into his face, with the intensity of his gaze. Then, the younger bit his bottom lip and looked away, but he didn’t miss how he curled his hands up into fists. He wished he could say something, but he was honestly speechless, and he couldn’t believe this was happening for real. For a second, he could barely register that he was angry, but the fact that he was there felt like such an incredible dream he was having a hard time believing it.
 
“How—” when the younger finally spoke, he made him fall from the cloud he’d ended up on, making him see just how upset with him he was; but he was confused. He didn’t understand what he’d done. Well, what he’d done worse than what had already happened that could make him completely stop pretending they didn’t know each other and barge into his apartment out of sudden, like he’d never pushed him away as harshly as he’d done.
 
As the other continued, he started connecting all the dots and realised that he was an idiot. He just wasn’t very good at thinking, feeling lightheaded and utterly in pain at the same time. “How could you be so stupid?” ah, that was why he was so mad, because of the situation he was in; he wasn’t that happy about it either, but it wasn’t like he could’ve done much about it. Well, maybe, he shouldn’t have ignored it until the pain had become so unbearable he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there anymore; maybe, he should’ve taken action about it instead of telling himself that it was nothing, and he could admit it, at least once. He wouldn’t have been forced to lie down and think about all his past mistakes, if nothing had happened.
 
On the other hand, if he hadn’t almost fainted and he weren’t currently in bed, Hanbin wouldn’t have been there with him. Somehow, he felt like he’d won. He’d started to fear that he would never see him again, and that thought always hurt, although that had exactly been the reason why he’d put an end to whatever they’d had going on.
 
The moment he’d typed in that message, he’d known he would lose him. And it was wrong for him to be there, because he was scared he would see that he’d been lying all along, and the reason why he’d pushed him away wasn’t that he was uncomfortable with what he felt for him, but he was uncomfortable with his own feelings. He’d never meant to fall in love again, but he had, and it’d slowly started to ruin everything. He knew it couldn’t work out. He didn’t want Hanbin to abandon him, and that was why he’d abandoned him first. He knew his behaviour was almost childish, but he hadn’t found any other solution. He wished he had.
 
Realising he still hadn’t answered anything, he looked up at the younger, who seemed incredibly tense, like he was fighting the urge to grab his shoulders and shake him, cursing him for being such an idiot. He didn’t even know why he cared. He’d been very stupid to think that, perhaps, the younger was forgetting about him, with time, and he could clearly see that it wasn’t true, in that moment. He’d stayed away from him because he didn’t want to hurt him, because he was an incredibly selfless person, but he’d seemingly broken down when he’d heard he’d ended up in the hospital, and that was why he was there. He didn’t understand why he cared about someone who had done nothing but hurt him, over and over, without even giving him an explanation. How could he still care, after everything he’d done to him?
 
Holding back a sigh and a grunt of pain, he tried to sit up, just so he could see him face to face. He was sure the younger had been about to stop him, but hadn’t found the courage, and he appreciated it. He was tired of getting treated like he couldn’t even move by himself. He could, it just—hurt a little. And he needed to do this, because now that Hanbin was there he couldn’t just kick him out, he couldn’t push him away again. He didn’t even want to.
 
It was selfish, but he wanted him to stay a little while longer. He wanted to memorise his face before he needed to let him go for real. He just wanted to burn his features into his mind before he needed to actually forget him. But he didn’t even know what to say or do, in that moment. He didn’t need to, because, after a moment of silence -in which everything they did was stare at each other again, probably as they both had too many things they wanted to say, but couldn’t find words –it was the younger who spoke again, without looking away, this time. As if he wanted him to look into his eyes as he said those words. “You scared me. You scared me to death,” he lowered his gaze once more, but he caught a glint of something he couldn’t recognize in his pupils.
 
He didn’t know what he was thinking, and it was strange, because he’d always felt like he could read him perfectly, before. After all, he’d really lost him, already, and that thought hurt. He’d been such an idiot, and he was regretting it, now. But maybe it was the painkillers talking, not him. He didn’t even know, that situation was such a damn mess, and he would’ve done anything to get out of it. He was just now realising that he could’ve told him something he didn’t want to, if he didn’t make him leave. He was trying not to think about it. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” from the way he spoke, he could hear that he felt guilty, and it made him feel weak; he didn’t have any reason to, had never had any reason to. He was the one who had messed up everything, he was the one who was wrong.
 
Hanbin had never done anything bad, not intentionally. Of course, he’d hurt him, but the moment he’d let him see that, he’d never even dared approach him, had always treated him like he would break, if he touched him. He hated being treated that way, but, at the same time, he understood why he’d done that. He wanted to tell him that he was happy he’d come, but his voice was stuck in his throat, and couldn’t get anything out.
 
Hanbin shook his head, slightly, and it was clear that he wanted to leave. His heart started beating one thousand miles per hour, precipitating into a frenzy, because no. He didn’t want him to. He wanted him to stay there. For the rest of his life. He knew he’d pushed him away, over and over, because he didn’t want to hurt him, because he was afraid of what could happen if he stayed with him and realised he wasn’t the person he thought he was, he knew.
 
Maybe his mind truly couldn’t catch up with what was happening, and maybe he was refusing to accept that he was fine enough to fight the urge to utter those words, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Everything that mattered was Hanbin. And, he realised, it’d always been. He’d pushed him away because he thought he was doing what was best for him, but he had been stupid. For a single second, he told himself that maybe he should’ve tried to love him. That, perhaps, he hadn’t done anything for the younger, and everything for himself, and he’d been selfish, yet again.
 
He didn’t know, he truly didn’t know, and his head couldn’t think about something as difficult as emotions, in that moment; he could barely think at all, because everything hurt. But nothing hurt more than the idea of having to see Hanbin walk away, like so many people had done before. He’d always said that he wanted to be the one pushing them away first, before they could see him for real, before they realised. He didn’t even think he wanted to change it, he didn’t even think he could, not in that moment, at least. His mind was truly a mess, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fix it. He just didn’t want Hanbin to leave, and he didn’t know if he was doing it in a rush of selfishness.
 
And yet, he told himself that he was going to hurt him whatever happened: he’d already ended up in that situation, and that had been enough to make him worry. It didn’t matter what happened, he knew he would hurt him if he asked him to stay, because he would irremediably have to tell him that things couldn’t change between them, but he knew he would hurt him anyway if he let him leave, because he would let him think he’d never cared at all. He did. He did care. He cared much more than he’d ever intended to, that first night they’d met on the roof, and maybe it was okay that way. Somehow, it’d been meant to happen since the start, and they both knew it.
 
He’d slowly started spiralling into panic, and he moved before he could even realise he was doing it, unable to think about the consequences. He grabbed the hem of one of the sleeves of Hanbin’s sweater, with a force he didn’t even know he’d left, stopping him in his tracks. The younger turned around, looking shocked, his eyes widening; he tried to pretend he didn’t see the tears that had gathered at the corner of his eyes, because he didn’t know what to say about it.
 
He wished he could apologize for everything that he’d done to him, but he didn’t know where to find the words. He didn’t know if there would ever be enough words to apologize for abandoning him that way, for kissing him and then deserting him as if he’d never cared about him. He wished he could tell him that he’d done it for him, but it would’ve sounded hypocritical, it would’ve sounded like a lie. Maybe it would’ve been. Maybe, he’d just convinced himself that he doing it because he didn’t want to hurt him, but he’d only thought about his own pain in the first place.
 
“Don’t go,” he murmured, his voice on the verge of breaking, he didn’t know if it was because he was hurting all over or because he felt like there was a lump in his throat he couldn’t get rid of. He was looking right into Hanbin’s eyes, unable to look away. He hated himself every time he made him cry, hated himself more than anything else. He was so beautiful, and kind, and he deserved the entire world, and he knew it was something he couldn’t give him. He just wished he could.
 
He wished he could kiss him without being scared of ruining everything, he wished he could hold him and tell him he was sorry, sorry for everything. “Don’t leave, please,” he didn’t even know what he was saying, at this point; he felt like he was just begging, he felt pathetic. He should’ve truly begged, begged for forgiveness, but he didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what he wanted, and it scared him.
 
He’d been so sure of his decision, six months before, but, seeing that boy in front of him like that, with messy hair and tired eyes, his clothes too large for him, made him question everything. And it made him realise that he didn’t want to lose him. That he’d told himself he was doing perfectly fine for all those months, that he would eventually forget him, but it was a lie.
 
There was something in him that he wasn’t going to be able to forget so easily. Perhaps it was how devastatingly everything he was. Or maybe, the way his voice sounded when he was talking to him about something he didn’t want to let anyone know, how soft his voice sounded. Or maybe, the way he seemed vulnerable and yet incredibly strong, as he cried letting him hold him into his arms. Or maybe, the way he never gave up, even when everything seemed to be falling to pieces. Or maybe, it was the way he liked to write songs, he wore hoodies that were too large for him, he taped band aids on his cheeks; it was the way he cared terribly for the people he loved, because he would’ve done anything to protect the people around him, the way he was afraid of showing his fragility to other people. Or maybe, it was the way he was just as scared as he was, of so many things it would’ve been terrifying to count them. Or, maybe, it was just the fact that he was Kim Hanbin. And someone like him would never be easy to forget.
 
He observed him, observed that confused expression on his face that didn’t seem to want to go away, observed him as the meaning of the words he’d just said hit him, as he realised what he’d just asked him. He expected him to slap his hand away, to tell him that he’d left him, had told that he didn’t want to see him ever again, and that he couldn’t expect him to forgive him and stay with him, after everything he’d done. But maybe there was a reason why he was there. He still cared about him, and that wasn’t something he wanted to think about, maybe. He was never going to forget him if he didn’t forget him first, and he was sure of it. He knew he shouldn’t have stopped him, but it was too late to back away once again.
 
And so, he waited, still looking into his eyes, hoping to catch something, behind that thin layer of tears he’d so carelessly caused, yet another time. Slowly, he seemed to snap out of his initial stupor, and his mouth fell slightly agape, as if he wanted to say something, but not a single sound came out of his lips. He didn’t even know what he wanted him to say, he didn’t even know what he was supposed to answer to such a pleading and slightly pathetic demand. For a second more, he wished he would leave, although he knew he didn’t actually want that. That would just spare him a lot of complications.
 
He didn’t even know how he would explain why he’d asked him to stay. If he had to be honest, he’d made it clear, a few months before, in that supply closet. He cared about him, but he couldn’t love him, and wanted him to stay away because he didn’t want to hurt him. He just hoped Hanbin knew that he cared, and that he’d done it—he’d thought he was doing it for him. He was just an idiot, an idiot who was terrible at dealing with his own emotions and always messed up everything.
 
Screw that, he didn’t want to lose him. He should’ve never pushed him away, and he was realising it too late. He didn’t know if things could be salvaged, and he didn’t know if he would deserve it.
 
Hanbin was still struggling, and it didn’t seem like he was going to manage to say anything for a while. Feeling like an idiot and like he was doing something terribly wrong, he gently grabbed his arms and the younger let himself be pulled closer, in front of his bed. Without even thinking about it twice, he wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning his head against his chest, even though it hurt like hell. It hurt even more when he sensed how fast his heart was beating, so fast he was afraid it would try to escape from its cage and fly away. “I’m the one who should apologize—” those words escaped his lips as barely a whisper, and he hoped that Hanbin had heard him, because he truly felt the need to say something, because he knew it was the only way. “I’m sorry, Hanbin-ah—I’m sorry for leaving you alone,” he moved away from him, just slightly, enough to be able to look at him.
 
He was biting his bottom lip, as if everything in him told him to push him away, but he hadn’t found the strength to do so. He was embarrassed, clearly, and didn’t know what to do. He could understand him, because, after all, he didn’t know what he was doing, either. He just knew that he didn’t want him to leave, and he knew it was something selfish to wish for.
 
Before he could stop himself, he reached his hand up, towards him, and placed it on his cheek, slowly wiping away the lonely tear that had started sliding against his skin. The younger hadn’t stopped looking at him with those puzzled eyes for a second, as if he couldn’t look away, for how much he tried. It seemed there was so much he wanted to say, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
 
Seungyoon chuckled, bitterly, realising that he was the one who needed to talk, because, after all, he was the one who had asked him to stay. He wished he could let him go, but he wasn’t in his right mind, in that moment, and he feared that he would’ve found that excessively heart-breaking. “I was scared—” he murmured, unsure how to continue, looking at an unspecified spot on Hanbin’s sleeve.
 
He figured telling the truth was the best thing he could do. But the problem wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell him the truth. He didn’t want to tell him that he still loved him, that he loved him, that he’d loved him all along and had been too stupid to see it and he’d kept his heart protected and tightly shut for so long that he was terrified of knowing what would happen if he fully let someone in once again, after years of pushing people away when he started caring too much. After all, though, he already knew. He had bene hurt once again, but only because of the consequences of his own actions. He hadn’t even given himself the chance to try, and that had hurt him still. “I still am,” he continued, finding the courage to look up at him once again. He was frowning, like he couldn’t understand what he was trying to say. To be honest, he didn’t know, either. Maybe he was just trying to explain. Explain why he’d pushed him away for so long and now he didn’t want him to leave.
 
He didn’t even know when it’d happened, but he realised the younger had one of his hands on his shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt; yet, he wasn’t holding on enough to hurt him.
 
For a moment, they only looked at each other, as if they were searching for the words they couldn’t say in each other’s eyes. Then, as if he’d been burned, Hanbin stepped back, and he almost tumbled forward, taken by surprise. He didn’t run away, out of the door and out of his life like he thought he would, he just stood there, like he was suspended between two states of mind, between what his heart was trying to tell him and what his mind thought was right. And he felt a rush of panic surge through him: the moment he walked out of that door, he was going to lose him forever.
 
He needed to keep going, even though he knew the more he spoke, the higher the risk was that he would reveal something. Maybe he needed to. He couldn’t keep thinking that he didn’t want to lose him while doing things that were inevitably going to bring them there. Enough. Why did it matter? He’d already hurt him enough for all those months. He owed him the truth. “I didn’t want to lose you and I’d never meant to hurt you but—” he stopped, and looked at the floor, unable to stand his gaze; there was something extremely fiery in his eyes, something he’d rarely seen outside the stage. “Seems like it’s a little too late for that,” it was, and it was about damn time he admitted it. Well, he already had admitted it, at least to himself. But the younger deserved to hear it, to hear that he knew he couldn’t really find an excuse to what he’d done. He couldn’t, but he knew he needed to at least try to explain himself, to show that hurting him had never been his intention and that he was just too stupid for his own good.
 
He’d told him, months before, in that supply closet, he’d told him that he didn’t want to hurt him, that it was his fault. He’d just never told him how afraid he was, that the reason why he couldn’t love him was that he was terrified of making the same mistakes once again; that he hadn’t been able to love anyone with his whole heart after what had happened with Taehyun.
 
Maybe, they’d all left him exactly because he didn’t love them enough and he hated how that was what he’d always wanted. The people he was with walking away from him before he could fall for them too deeply, to always be the bad guy, at the end of the day. He’d told himself, for all those years, that maybe pretending to be a tough guy would’ve helped him keep his heart safe, but he knew that he was weak. He knew that he was weak and seeing them walk away had hurt him every damn time, for how much he would’ve liked to tell himself that wasn’t true.
 
All of sudden, Hanbin’s voice filled the room, breaking the silence so abruptly he could swear he’d heard a snap. It made him plummet back to reality, and realise that, maybe, he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t in his right mind, in that moment.
 
“Well, if you didn’t want to lose me, why did you push me away?” he didn’t even sound angry, this time, he just sounded resigned. Like he’d long accepted that he didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, and hearing him say those words had taken him more aback than he’d expected.
 
Maybe he couldn’t believe he was telling him just now, when nothing could be salvaged anymore. Yeah, he knew it was stupid, but he’d just—Hanbin was there, in front of him, alone, for the first time in months, and he hadn’t been able to hold his tongue. And he knew. He knew everything was a mess, and he was an idiot, he’d hurt himself and the younger while trying exactly to avoid those things, but he’d thought it would be better to push him away while he still could. Because he didn’t know if he could tell him how he actually felt for him.
 
He didn’t want him to fall more deeply in love with him than he already was and then realise that he wasn’t the person he’d made him out to be and get irreparably damaged by his carelessness and selfishness. He’d told himself that they would be fine. Everything had been going so well, they’d managed to ignore each other like nothing had ever happened between them, but he should’ve expected that, sooner or later, something would’ve broken that calm, something like that would’ve happened and they would’ve found themselves in the same situation all over again. The problem was that, in that moment, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want Hanbin to leave, but he knew it was already too late to take everything back, to mend to his mistakes. He didn’t want him to leave, but he couldn’t really expect him to stay.
 
Realising he really didn’t have an answer for that, because his actions didn’t match the words he spoke, he told himself that he needed to be the bad guy once again, if he wanted to get out of that situation. It didn’t matter how in pain he was in, both physically and psychologically, he needed to push him away, yet again. He needed to hurt him one last time, with his words, so cruelly that he would never want to see him again, because it was the only way.
 
He had hurt him before and he didn’t want lose him, but he needed to let him go. He wanted him to be happy, and he doubted he would ever be able to make him happy. Because he was afraid, because he was insecure and worried too much; he would only be a burden he would get tired of. Either that, or he was going to become so indifferent without even realising it, but he knew there was no way it could end well.
 
Hanbin was going to forget him, at some point. Simply because he couldn’t hang on his feelings for him for the rest of his life. Sighing once again, he slowly looked up at him, trying to ignore the angry tears that he could finally see had gathered in his eyes, putting up his best façade. He was an actor; he’d learned how to lie.
 
He didn’t love him, he told himself. He didn’t feel the same, and he’d never felt the same, and he would never feel the same. That was what he needed to tell himself, at least. He was going to lose him, but, maybe, it didn’t matter, because he was giving him a chance to find someone who actually deserved him. He needed to stop being selfish.
 
“Because you were my friend but I couldn’t stand to know you have feelings for me when I don’t feel the same—” he started, his voice merely a whisper, almost a hiss, with a hint of something almost evil in it, and there was so much more he wanted to say, so much more he wanted to add to make himself out to be the bad guy once again, but the younger had seemingly had enough of everything.
 
His words covered his own, leaving him completely speechless and breathless for a second, unable to believe he was hearing him say that. He couldn’t believe that was happening for real. He’d told himself he needed to lie, but he was sure Hanbin could see through the cracks on his mask, in that moment. He just didn’t know what to do with himself, now that he knew that his only way to escape couldn’t work, anymore.
 
“Why did you kiss me, then?”

- - -

A/N: OH MY GOD THE PLOT TWIST

Sorry to leave you with this cliffhanger but I thought it was the perfect place where to split the chapter, it creates more drama. And, yes, I know Seungyoon is a little confused, but don't blame him too much, there's a fight going on between his head and his heart; he's trying.