Kyuhyun’s mouth thins and then turns down in a frowning sort of pout as he looks up at the taller man, collar pulled up to cover half his face and sunglasses hiding the other half.  His eyes are half-excited and half-annoyed, and he isn’t sure what he’s suppose to say or do in this situation because he hasn’t been here  before, it’s another first this man has taken away from him.  The man shuffles from one foot to the other, and peers over his shoulder as if he’s expecting someone to be there suddenly; and maybe he is, because after all it isn’t an odd occurrence for Kyuhyun’s multitude of hyungs to just randomly show up on his doorstep and none of them are particularly fond of the man standing before him looking more and more like a lost puppy.

He sighs pushing down the urge to rub at his temples and just shut the door, they were best friends long before they had stumbled into much more chaotic territory.  Whatever the man wants to say shouldn’t be said through his doorway so he grudgingly forces himself to step aside and allow the man entrance into his apartment just when he’d finally gotten rid of all the memories.  He bites back the bitterness and the tears, because most days he just feels numb to it all, though somehow that feels even more depressing than the odd urge to shatter mirrors and scream his throat raw.

He notices slight changes as the man slips from his bulky jacket with a contented sigh sliding the glasses, which Kyuhyun realizes where actually a gift from him as he ignores the pang to his heart, into his pocket easily.  He tosses the coat over the edge of the couch and the action is so familiar and yet so distant that Kyuhyun has to fight off wanting to rub at his chest as it tightens with memories and emotions and everything that’s been lost.  Realizes too late that he really can’t do this, that he doesn’t want to even listen to this man talk, he doesn’t want to hear whatever it is he might want to say.

“You cut your hair,” is out of his mouth before he can hold it back when the man turns towards him finally, he mourns the loss of the locks that had been getting steadily longer and he bites his lip to keep himself from frowning.  He steadies his hands by shoving them deep into the pockets of his sweater, and then he realizes that it’s not actually his sweater and he grimaces hoping the other man won’t notice but he knows that hope is useless because he sees the recognition in the other man’s eyes instantly.

“I did,” is the soft answer he gets in return, and the deep roll of his voice envelopes him for a moment as he fights with memories that are too close to the surface now.  He’d forgotten how good the man looked in his apartment; the neutral tones of his living room complimented everything about him.  He tilts his head away, his eyes looking over the man’s shoulder in an attempt to avoid those eyes – eyes that used to burn into his own, eyes that used to paralyze him with want and love and such tenderness.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat when it catches.  “What do you want?”  He continues to look straight at the wall behind the man, but he can hear him shuffling his feet once again and he knows it’s a nervous habit that he’d never been able to get rid of.  Knowing the other man is nervous lends him a small comfort, and the hands in his pockets shake a little less.

“I’m sorry,” is whispered out into the silence of the room, and it’s the last thing he wants to hear because it hurts, so much.  He doesn’t want to listen to apologies and explanations, because they’ll feel like excuses.  He wants to tell the other man it’s fine, laugh it off like he’d really just been joking – he wants to go back to before they messed everything up, because he’d messed up by falling in love with this man who had once been his best friend and the most important person in his life.

“It’s –“ he starts, willing the words off the tip of his tongue, trying to force them out into the open but they die out and he chokes back a sob because he doesn’t know what to do.  His hands twitch and his heart is pounding out an uncontrollable rhythm in his chest, bouncing and rattling against his ribs.  The pain is intense.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers again, his voice catching at the end before it breaks and shatters around the room.  It’s like a teasing echo, pulling and pushing and devastating Kyuhyun because as much anger as he has, as much as he hurts, as much as he wants to hate this man – he can’t.  It hurts him that he’s hurting, it pricks and pokes an annoyance he can’t brush away; his hands itch to reach out and comfort.

“I’m okay,” he states, and he proudly finds that his voice seems and sounds steady to his ears.  “It’s okay,” he says, his voice a little stronger.  He tilts his head back, turning eyes towards the face of the man he remembers all too well; and instantly he realizes that it’s a mistake, because he’s not ready for what he sees.  There is water in the edges of deep brown eyes, bright teeth biting down harshly onto his plush lower lip, and there is a pain to the eyes that he can’t shake away.  His stance wavers, and his heart stutters in his chest.

There are tears falling from his eyes before he even realizes that his vision had blurred.  He chokes around a sob as his knees shake and waver and then give out.  He stumbles backwards, catching himself on the corner of a table, crying out at the sharp pain in his side before he just crumbles to the floor in a heap of distress and embarrassment and misery.

“No, it’s not okay,” he hears whispered against his cheek, warm breathe against his ear and long arms wrapping around his shoulders.  Kyuhyun struggles as the arms tighten, pulling him into a lap he used to frequent and the memories eat holes through his heart, as the world crashes around him into a million pieces he’ll never be able to put back together.  He clings then, clawing frantic hands against the strong back.  “I’m so sorry.”

He wants to yell at him for apologizing because every time he says sorry he aches more, he breaks more, he falls further.  The pain is blinding and consuming, he’s drowning before he even has a chance and he panics further when he struggles to just breathe.  He fades into black dots and too hot hands and worried calls of his name, falls into the numbness of nothing and darkness and cold.

Kyuhyun crashes into an alert state of wake, his body flying steps ahead of his mind as he scrambles out of bed, lanky legs tangling in sheets before they pull him to the ground in a heap of sore limbs.  His door flings open and he chokes on a curse, it wasn’t a dream. A smooth chuckle that he hadn’t realized he’d missed so much floats around the room, and he blushes when he realizes he spoke out loud.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Kyuhyun answers quickly, slowly untangling himself from his sheets and standing.  “What are you doing here, Changmin?” He questions, his eyes weary and he just feels bone deep tired.

“I needed to apologize, because I,” his voice fades out as he rubs at the back of his neck.  Kyuhyun knows everything about this man; all of his actions, looks, smiles, laughs, habits – there was nothing he didn’t know, nothing he couldn’t read.  He knows that Changmin is nervous and unsure and regretful just from the way he’s standing, how he’s avoiding actually looking at Kyuhyun now, how he seems to be leaning away slightly as if he’s going to run.  “I didn’t mean to stop -”

“Stop what?” Kyuhyun questions, cutting of Changmin sharply.  He cannot hide the anger or bitterness in his voice, and for once he doesn’t want to hide his pain away because he’s tired of being all wrapped up in this by himself, he’s tired of trying to protect this man that doesn’t seem to want to return the favor.  “Stop calling me. Stop answering my texts. Stop acknowledging my existence. Stop being my best friend. Stop loving me!”

Changmin visibly flinches, hands pulling and twisting into the hem of his shirt, he tenses when Kyuhyun takes a stride towards him fist clenched at his side; and he wonders for a moment if he’s going to punch him.  But he doesn’t, instead he’s looking at him with disappointment and pain and heartbreak so deep that Changmin would much rather be punched than have to look at Kyuhyun’s broken face a second longer.

“I’m sorry!” Changmin says, hands in his hair because he doesn’t know how to fix this, to fix them, to make things right.  He was surprised and worried and terrified by Kyuhyun slip of confession and so he’d disappeared from the man’s world; avoiding it because he just didn’t know what to do.  “I was a coward, and stupid, and I made the biggest mistake of my life. Okay? Okay! Is that what you need to hear,” Changmin practically screamed, Kyuhyun worried momentarily about his neighbors but they were quickly forgotten as Changmin continued.  “I was terrified because you made everything so real in that moment, and the words just all got jumbled and stuck and lost.  Because I can’t lose you, I can’t live without you.  I’m miserable, every second since that day; I can’t do anything without you.  I’m useless and hopeless and pathetic. And I love you.”

Kyuhyun stops breathing for a moment, forgetting how or why it’s important; until he’s gasping for air as he struggles to just stay standing.  Changmin is red cheeked and teary eyed, but Kyuhyun thinks he hasn’t ever looked more beautiful than he does in this moment.  Kyuhyun stumbles into open arms, wraps himself so tightly around the taller man afraid he’s just going to slip away and disappear again, only this time for good.

“I love you,” Kyuhyun whimpers, fists clenching into cotton, pressing his face into a smooth neck.  Changmin pulls him up into his arms easily; surprised at how light he actually is, guilt presses down when he thinks about the other man possibly not eating and all because of him.  Kyuhyun latches onto him for the rest of the night, barely allowing Changmin room to even breathe, following him around holding tightly to his hand.  Changmin forces him to wait outside the bathroom door, but the way that Kyuhyun whines and whimpers through the door has him rushing, and pulling the shaking man into his arms as he practically rips the door from its hinges when he’s finished.

Kyuhyun lies across the length of his body, even though the bed is large enough to fit at least 5 people across it comfortably.  He clings and holds tightly, trying to forget painful memories; don’t leave me, please don’t leave me is on the tip of his tongue even as he wakes the next morning, still wrapped in warm arms and cheek pressed against the solid muscle of Changmin’s chest.