As they exited the bus, Joonmyeon did not bother Jongdae to pull his headphones down - rather, that intimate silence between them proved to be soothing enough, such beauty that it deserved not to be stained by filth of a mere talk. They have enough of that in classroom during break, it was that, that intimacy between them, that managed to satiate all of his needs - for sight, smell, and touch he desperately craved for. Occasionally, as wind dared be merciful enough, a wafting scent of men's cologne would reach his nose, teasing and tempting him to draw closer, to inhale that sweet scent mixed with tiniest hint of salty sweat that lined the skin of other's neck, making it glisten under the dying, ruby colored rays of sun dotting the sky canvas in red. The scent drove him utterly mad. He wished nothing but to bury his nose in the crook of other's neck and wail at how divine he smelled, that cologne driving all of his senses to their utter highest points, making him sensitive to even the slightest of brush of other's ivory skin against his hand that trembled, threatening to let loose of the plastic bags along with their precious content.

He took in a deep breath, reminding himself to keep his composure; after all, it was not his place to mourn pitifully at how a single boy could make his heart beat unexplainably inconsistent for a reason unknown to him. He blamed the cologne for the effect it had on his body, it existed but no other explanation. Rational or no.

Those sly, long fingers, their shape perfectly accented by the play of shadows on his skin from the sunset, lightly flicked against his hand, gently tapping his knuckles to draw attention to the younger one who calmly watched as other stopped to see what was wrong.

Give it to me. He mouthed, reaching for the translucent plastic bag Joonmyeon held tightly in his left hand, it along with the food in it swaying lightly from the abrupt stop the other made. He took a courteous step back, retreating his long hand with ease when Jongdae bent down to take it from his grasp, finding it endearing how a frown suddenly appeared on other's face from having his wish unfulfilled. How adorable. Other's countenance continued showing great displeasure whenever Joonmyeon refused to give up the bag, the tries of seizing them now appearing like the play between the two, Joonmyeon playfully teasing the other as Jongdae desperately tried to grasp the plastic handle. Yet far from that, Joonmyeon would feel burdened if he had the younger one holding the burden he bought, albeit for him, thus he tried to pry himself away from the younger one, having little success with that.

-"Give...it...to...me!" Jongdae hissed through clenched teeth, his lips pulled awry in a grimace as he tried to breathe some air in between the huffs and pants he emitted, long tired of their childish play. He was not amused by other's suavity, finding it improper and definitely not amusing when he willingly, and made it more than obvious, wanted to share the weight other's left hand carried, known to him that that wrist was hurt during a basketball practice in physical education class earlier that day. Joonmyeon stayed silent, lips shut in pain, lest he let the other know about it, but Jongdae noticed it by occasional flicks and twists of the hand and improperly hidden grimaces the other was desperate not to show, most likely embarrassed by the fact he got hurt in the first place.

-"Let...go!" He moaned, finally latching his fingers at the plastic handle and pulling it away from other's loosened grasp, barely managing to notice the sudden splay of shock etched on other's face. "Why...?" Joonmyeon huffed, barely speaking from the strain he put his lungs into, them searing and burning in pain.

From all the havoc they caused, Jongdae's headphones slipped down his ears and swung on his back, stopped from falling down by the joint of strings that now lay against his neck, choking him with the heaviness of the metal and plastic hanging past his shoulders. His face was pale from the coldness of the air, the icy bite gnawing at his tender flesh with such vicious and vehement perseverance, his otherwise natural blush barely standing out. It was now but mere speckles of rosy red splattered high on his cheeks, barely giving him a healthy appearance of a young boy.


-"Your wrist is hurt." He spat out through huffs, fiddling with his hand to pull the headphones up, trying to release himself of the drowning sensation suddenly engulfing him from lack of air. Joonmyeon took a step back, obviously disturbed with the fact his secret was out in the open so quickly, finding it unnerving how easily he allowed his damnation to be exposed to the outer world. "Don't pretend it doesn't pain you." The words held such calmth to them, it was unbelieving. Laced with tranquility, they were as soothing as the mountain river, albeit icy from the cold breeze dancing merrily around them, paying no heed to their despise towards it. They felt like salve, mending his wound with such caring he found no desire to oppose them. Indeed, it had hurt more than Jongdae could have ever imagined. And it was not the physical pain he thought of, but the mental one that accompanied the dawning realization of what it brought along with itself, the very wounded wrist that had managed to almost certainly seal his future.

As a little boy, he had fallen once from a sling, damaging his wrist so badly he was told that a single mistake of such nature again would seal his future and opportunity as a piano player forever. His mother told him to be careful. And he had, for eleven long years, only to have his dream shattered crudely by a single mistake. Foolish mistake.

Jongdae stared at him attentively, eyes filled with genuine concern that was akin to winter fire - flickering wildly, yet timid looking - and gently wound his free hand around other's brittle, cold wrist, feeling the dead sensation of other's unmoving limb spreading through his body as fast as an avalanche. He was so cold, so benumbed. It scared him to feel that thin and fragile wrist and that attenuate body so devoid of warmth. He pressed his fingers harder, longing to warm the other up, if not his body, than at least his soul, seeing as the other stared at him lifelessly, both of them aware what that wound meant. Knowing it was hurt, his grasp was protective and amiable, lest he hurt the other more than what he had already brought upon himself.


-"Your wrist is cold." He spoke, no amusement ringing in his voice. And so are your eyes, he thought for the fleetest of moments, feeling other's arm responding to the caress. He received no reply, no answer, but Joonmyeon did not utter single word more about the bags or his wrist, lest he open the topic once again, a topic he detested from the pit of his heart.
The grip around that wrist, as they slowly progressed down the abandoned road, turned into the faintest of grasps of fingers, them lightly intertwining in a trying play of boundaries they dared to cross, it becoming just one of numerous instances where Joonmyeon felt his heart tenderly flutter upon feeling the touch, other's fingers occasionally caressing his palm in the shyest of motions. He disregarded it as anything other but a simple gesture of courtesy and care, yet...he simply couldn't shake of the nagging feeling that it felt natural. A few bold glances at their intertwined hand allowed him to see just how well their fingers fit together - as if every finger had its respective soulmate, and when they fell into the voids in between other's fingers, he could imagine the perfect picture of their tangled limbs pressed closely together, laying huddled together on a clean canvas of white of his bed linens, staring into their connected hands with faces shining in mirth. 


He would gladly hit himself straight in the face sometimes. Perhaps then his stupidity would fall out along with his brain so he needed not to think anymore. To be loved by a man... It was just one of his childish and naive desires. And still...he let himself enjoy the little of touch granted by other's fingers, feeling them clenching his hand tighter the slower their legs walked, their gait becoming almost obnoxiously slow.
-"I wish I could make it better." Spoke Jongdae, slicing the stale silence in between them with his sharp, yet mellow voice, one fitting his bold and expressed jaw and strong facial lines with eyes as cunning and observant as those of an eagle.
-"I'm okay; you worry more about it than I do. It's...unnerving." The other spoke, his gentle, slightly anxious chuckle spreading through the void of quickly settled night. Yet as he turned around, he was left speechless at the sight of other's bloodless face staring at him with such intense glare he felt like the vehement fire in his eyes would melt him into a worthless puddle of molten snow the longer their gazes stayed interlocked. And just like that, like an abruptly snuffed candle, the fire in those eyes dissipated to naught, replaced with unspoken worry, concern and...Secret longing. Joonmyeon was left astonished at the sight of it, swearing to himself it was just a play of faint street lights and shadows, but his hopeful heart deemed it to be longing and he could not muster enough strength to fight that belief, for he as well silently hoped it was just that.
-"Let us drop the subject and hurry, my mom awaits us with dinner and..." He shifted the bag in his hold, "the treats as well. If we don't get there soon, she will think we...- no, I- ate it all by myself." Jongdae smiled at him sheepishly, his mind forcefully dropping the subject of other's wounded wrist as their path slowly neared them other's home, their fingers never letting go of each other.

Only when they had to enter through the entrance door did they reluctantly part, but not even a single glance was spared between the two, both too embarrassed to look each other in the eye.
 

First love is confusing.