i got a hole in my heart, pretty baby;
yuhwan x taeha

"Hey. Happy birthday for tomorrow."

If it were anyone else, Sungjong would have looked at them weirdly, and mumbled a quiet 'thank you'. But this wasn't anyone else. It wasn't just anyone at all.

Half hanging out the boy's bathroom, two bright, smiling eyes blinked at him in anticipation, awaiting a reply with one foot wedging the door open. Sungjong simply stared at the latter, his own eyes narrow in teasing suspicion as he hesitated by the locker bay.

"Are you saying it now in case you forget tomorrow?"

The bright eyes now danced among flushed cheeks, lips curling into a soft, nervous smile.

"Nah. Wanted to be the first one to say it, that's all..."

Disappearing inside the bathroom, Sungjong was left to stare at the door, the plastic sign gender specific. Beside the boy's bathroom was the girl's, and one of the seniors brushed past him roughly as she stalked away. He barely registered the ache of his shoulder afterward, and didn't react - he was still trying to decipher what just happened to him.










Let's break it down into bite-sized pieces.

Kim Yuhwan - the boy who Sungjong sometimes liked to stare at in Literature class. They were usually seated opposite each other, each on their own end of the room, and Sungjong liked to deny the fact that his eyes occasionally wandered toward the latter. The boy never stared back at him or anything - in fact, Sungjong was pretty sure Yuhwan didn't even know he was in his class.

But according to scientific fact, 97% of message conveyance is through body language, as opposed to the 3% of verbal contact.

And Sungjong constantly noted that Yuhwan's feet were always pointing at him. That signified attraction. He was sure it did.

"No, it doesn't. His feet point at you because his whole body is basically facing you. He sits opposite you; surely, he's not going to pull out all stops to angle his body in a different direction?" That would be Sungjong's best friend arguing with him. Sungmin, someone who Sungjong would never be caught dead staring at occasionally in Literature class. It was unfortunate to have the boys sandwiched together in the same class, because neither ever got anything done.

Sungmin liked to play Poker on his laptop while the teacher was lecturing, and also liked to annoy Sungjong by drawing his attention to the 15" screen. Sungjong always found his best friend's laptop size entirely unnecessary, and tried his best to keep his attention on the grumbling teacher, who never seemed to be in a good mood as it was. Sometimes, his attention went to Yuhwan, who kept his head dutifully down, eyes trained on the book splayed across the desk.

Back to the person of interest: Yuhwan was in the 'popular' crowd. Or so, that's how he was characterised in Sungjong's mind. It was because Yuhwan surfed, and Yuhwan had a tan, and Yuhwan's hair was lighter than everybody else's because Yuhwan spent that much time in the sun. And people really liked Yuhwan, and although Yuhwan's friends were a little stupid, Yuhwan wasn't.

"You make him sound like a Saint. That's setting yourself up for heartbreak, I swear to God." Sungmin commented one time in class, while Sungjong was doodling Yuhwan's name all over his notebook.

Yuhwan. Yuhwan. Yuhwan. Kim Yuhwan.

Of course, Sungjong never once admitted to actually liking the boy. He was simply... an aesthetically pleasing piece of art, and one would be foolish not to appreciate something so beautiful. Sungjong was just appreciating beauty for how it was, that's all. There would be no reason for him to actually develop any feelings for the latter, because they never spoke to each other, and they also knew nothing about each other. Everything Sungjong knew about Yuhwan was from his FaceBook page.

And they weren't even friends on FaceBook.

This takes us back to where we left off - what was that Yuhwan just said to him? Wanting to be the first to what? What was that again?

Sungjong thought about telling Sungmin, but remembered that the boy wouldn't give him any advice. Probably just a smack on the head because Sungjong was probably delirious with a fever, and hallucinating things. Sungjong used to feel insulted, but he gave up after realising how nothing that came out of Sungmin's mouth was ever actually serious.

The boy's bathroom door swung open again and, panicking, Sungjong spun around to shoot down the hallway, leaving his locker door ajar and half open. He tripped on a shoelace, managed to slam his ankle into someone's skateboard, and dropped his Literature books onto the floor. A pair of hands reached down to pile his books together, and Sungjong half-prayed that it would be Yuhwan, and half-dreaded that it would be Yuhwan.

It felt very... picturesque.

But his life didn't work like in the movies, because he lifted his head and saw Sungmin's Cheshire-Cat grin. Sungjong scowled as he picked himself up off the floor - their Literature class was right beside him, where he fell onto the cold concrete floor, and he noticed Yuhwan's eyes flickering away the moment he caught his gaze. A small smile was tugged up at one corner of the latter's lips.

Sungjong roughly pushed his glasses further up his face before noticing the tiny bruise that was blooming on his ankle. He cursed silently, because he wasn't one for loudness or cussing, and he wrung two fingers around his ankle. Sungmin kneeled down beside him to take a look, followed by a condescending snort. "Someone needs to retrain you to walk properly."

"Shut up, and take my books into class. Thank you very much, kind sir." Sungjong muttered through gritted teeth, leaving his books sprawled in Sungmin's arms and made a clumsy entry into the classroom.

(Consisted of tripping over the threshold, and accidentally dragging the toe of one shoe along the ground.)










It wasn't like Valentines Day was close or anything, but Sungjong started to take notice of how many couples were in his year level. Eventually, he started to wonder whether Yuhwan was already taken, but it would be a rather suspicious, and inappropriate, topic starter. Sungmin volunteered to be the one who voiced the question, since nobody ever took Sungmin seriously. But Sungjong declined, because Sungmin managed to butcher everything up into a joke.

And matters of the heart are no jokes.

But it wasn't really a matter of the heart. Sungjong just thought the description sounded nice, because he's never been one to really have crushes on people. More like, fleeting moments of infatuation, before moving onto someone else. That was how Sungjong worked - he'd like someone for a short moment, then move onto a prettier painting. He never grew too attached to people, and he liked to move in many directions with plenty of freedom. It rather surprised him that he could claim Sungmin as his best friend.

He hadn't had a best friend since grade 2, and that best friend was the one who taught him what the word 'crush' meant. Sungjong always assumed crush was simply the urge to smush something under an incredible amount of weight. He never learned the connection between 'crush' and 'liking someone', because why would you crush someone you liked?

Sungjong always believed that he would be one of those people that decided to get married at the age of 80, just because he could. And it would make the news (even if it were the tiniest article on the middle page of the entire tabloid.) But he never saw his future consisting of any one person like most kids could. By this point, everybody around him seemed to be obsessed with the idea of finding love - Sungmin included.

The latter finally admitted to having a crush. It was some girl in his art class, someone with pretty fingers who also played the piano. She liked to flip her long hair over her shoulders often, and she smelled nice. Sungjong found that last fact mildly creepy, but Sungmin defended himself by stating that he was behind her in class all the time, so it was easy to smell the fragrance she wore to school.

Sungjong still found it creepy.

But it was cute that Sungmin, the class clown, could find himself settling down for someone (for the first time in his life.)

However, it made their latest conversations rather boring and repetitive. Most of the time, it's Sungjong munching on his sandwiches and half tuning-out of Sungmin's rants about his crush's latest nail polish colour.

("Blue flatters her, not so much red, peach is definitely off the table.")

Despite Sungjong's strong beliefs, he started noticing a bubbling sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was the one that appeared when he was watching sad movies where the couple broke up, or he was reading a book and a dog died. It was the one that attacked him in the middle of the night when he was still wide awake, thinking over his future. And it was the one that surprised him when he looked at couples holding hands.

It was like loneliness, except tenfold.

And it was also his birthday, and he didn't feel he deserved to feel loneliness on his birthday, so he ignored it.

Sitting in Literature class, Sungjong freely swung his legs back and forth underneath his chair, smiling as his Literature teacher handed him a piece of chocolate as a 'gift'. Teachers never felt inclined to hand out gifts on their students' birthdays, but the small gesture still made Sungjong quite smiley and bright.

But that wasn't all that made him so giddy this morning. All thanks to Yuhwan's sudden confession yesterday, Sungjong had been on his toes all day, feeling as if he should be expecting something great from the boy for his birthday. Of course, he had no strong basis to actually be expecting anything at all, but it was a nice sort of hype. One that not even Sungmin and his droning on about females and their clothing could bring him down from.

"Ever actually talked to her?" Sungjong mumbled around mouthfuls of chocolate, waiting for the rest of the class (read: Yuhwan) to finally arrive. Sungmin just stared at him blankly, as if the question never once popped up in his mind.

"What? Talk to her? What? No. Are you. What? No!" he spluttered, trying his hardest to ignore the judging glare of Sungjong's eyes. "Hey! You never talk to Yuhw--"

"Shut up!" Sungjong hissed, clamping a hand over Sungmin's mouth and spitting chocolate everywhere. "You are the biggest jerk ever and I hate you!"

At that moment, the classroom doors swung open and in stepped Yuhwan and the gang, all brooding with their big shoes, loose tank tops and some form of cap on their heads. They never wore their caps the right way, Sungjong noticed, and today Yuhwan had a purple cap on backwards.

Purple flattered him rather nicely.

But nothing out of the ordinary today. Yuhwan simply brushed past the pair and joined his friends at the other end of the table, not even risking a glance at Sungjong. The latter was staring intensely, as if expecting a bouquet of roses to pop up any time soon, as if by magic.

And hot hopelessness occasionally pricked the back of his eyes within the duration of the class, because he looked at Yuhwan more often than not, and still received nothing in return. Sungmin knew to keep silent that class, and actually opened up his Literature book for once. He ignored the tear that fell and dampened a spot on Sungjong's book, because it wasn't the time or place for comfort. Sungjong simply kept his head lowered and blinked clear his vision.

Expectation is the root of all heartache. And Sungjong should have known better really, because simply having shoes pointed at him meant nothing, and having that one, fleeting moment of hopefulness also meant nothing. And before any of them could speak, the bell rang and Sungjong hurriedly swept himself from his desk, with surprising grace for someone so clumsy, and brushed past a hesitant Sungmin to the locker bay.

He didn't trip this time. And Yuhwan looked at him longer than necessary, but only Sungmin would ever know that.










"She was making a clay sculpture in art, and she turned around and asked me if I had any extra clay and I swear my heart jumped out of my mouth at that moment." Sungmin mumbled tiredly over the phone, stifling a yawn behind his hand. He knew that Sungjong was already spacing out of their conversation by this point, and didn't really expect a reply any time soon. "Anyway, I'm off to bed now. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Happy birthday. I'll get you some more chocolate tomorrow."

The phone line went dead, and Sungjong still had his face buried into the pillow, tears dampening the cotton of his pillow cases. His phone rested lazily against the side of his head, and with the help of gravity, eventually slipped down onto the mattress below. Sungjong sniffled quietly into his pillow, shut his eyes once more, and tried to will sleep to overtake him.

Because it was still his birthday, and he at least deserved a peaceful sleep on this day.










Luckily for Sungjong, having slept in half an hour later than usual, his first period happened to be a free period. But it also happened to be the period that he shared with Yuhwan, and he wasn't in the mood to see Yuhwan's face just yet.

Sungmin sent him a worried text on the bus earlier that morning, then another one during class because Sungjong would have usually replied by now. Sungjong gave an unemotional apology in his text, promised to see him at lunch, and slowly made his way from his house to his dad's car, which was waiting in the driveway for his presence.

He uttered a quiet apology to his dad, who had fallen asleep in the driver's seat anyway - father and son alike. Sungjong's eyes were puffy and didn't go unnoticed, but instead went unquestioned. His parents knew they raised a rather emotional child, and knew not to bombard him with too many questions when he was like this. They always tried to cheer him up instead, and his dad stopped at an ice-cream stall to get him a chocolate sundae in a cup, watching as Sungjong's eyes slowly brightened up at the sight of the desert.

"Thanks dad." he murmured gratefully, taking a happy spoonful into his mouth as his dad drove on in relief.










Stepping into school felt more nerve-wracking than Sungjong expected it to feel. He could feel his fingers shaking as he approached his locker, very aware that Yuhwan was already at his own locker by that time, students fluttering about the hallway as they prepared themselves for a short break in between classes. Sungjong slowly stuffed himself inside his locker, breathing in the dust and stale air that was the majority of the hallway. He pretended not to smell the faint smell of sweat, or the squeaking of sports shoes approaching him carefully.

Yuhwan was a part of the gym team that practiced in the mornings at the school gym, which came as no surprise to anyone. Being sporty and athletic was like something Yuhwan was just born with.

(Also, a lack of artistic skill.)

Breathing quietly to himself and attempting to ward off the warm flush from his cheeks, Sungjong busied himself with his iPod, in the midst of jamming in both earbuds when a hand lightly tapped his shoulder. Suppressing a soft, exhausted groan, Sungjong let his iPod fall back inside his bag as he slowly lifted his head, the sunlight partially blinding him through the window.

The bright light cast a soft glow around Yuhwan's smiling face, those same bright, excited eyes greeting him with a cheery dance. Cheeks were flushed (but Sungjong was ready to blame it on the early morning exercise). "Hey."

It took a moment for the word to sink in, and Sungjong spluttered over himself as he muttered back a reply. "Eh? Oh, hey, hey, yeah. Hey. What's up?" He could always pretend later on that he was smoother than a broken tape.

"I didn't see you around yesterday after class... I wanted to give you this." A hand extended toward him, holding a small, pale orange envelope, with his name printed on the front. Yuhwan's name was in small script on the left corner of the back, Sungjong's eyes staring a little too intensely at the gift presented to him.

He couldn't tell if it was elation or disappointment enveloping him. He could feel a flood, a surge, of something. Justsomething terribly unidentifiable. His shaky hand slowly took the envelope from Yuhwan's outstretched own, and he didn't dare risk a glance up toward the latter's face. But he could feel those bright eyes staring at him happily, lips quirked into their signature, nervous smile.

"Thank you." Sungjong muttered, slowly sliding the envelope between sheets of his Literature book. But before he could muster up the courage to cast a grateful glance, Yuhwan's shoes squeaked away, booming voices down the hallway greeting his name and hollering in excitement.

Sungjong tried his best not to cry, listening to the voices down the other end of the hallway, talking in a teasing manner. He didn't know why he felt like crying; he just did.

But he tried his hardest to suppress them, and waited until the hallway fell quiet. No one was around during this time - kids needed their daily dose of sunshine, and a break to run around in the grass. Instead, Sungjong opted out and leaned against his locker, trembling fingers picking at the envelope corners. It would simply be a 'happy birthday' card, that's all, nothing to be freaked out about. But judging by the bright red flush in his cheeks, Sungjong knew that no matter what the envelope held, just having that little bit of a contact was enough to make him break down and sob pathetically.

Feeling rather grateful that Sungmin wasn't around to taunt him, Sungjong slowly tore open the envelope, pulling out a thick, white card, a 'happy birthday' logo scrawled in silver embossment. It was rather elegant for a birthday card, and Sungjong swore he wasn't seeing things as he ran his eyes over the single, pink heart right underneath the logo. A pale indent in the card - suggestive of nothing more than affection, not quite passion.

He thumbed the front page away, flipping the card until the insertion was revealed, a single black, cursive sentence that closely drew his attention in.

Happy birthday, Oh Sungjong. I hope you'll accept my invitation.

Sungjong's fingers scrambled back toward the envelope, flipping it upside down and shaking the flimsy pages, becoming aware of a small slip of paper that fell onto the concrete ground by his feet. Sungjong spent a moment or two just staring at it, trying to decipher what it could possibly be that made his heart race so quickly.

When he finally found the strength to pick the card up, it was a ticket. A movie ticket, to go see one of the latest line-ups in their resident cinema. Sungjong didn't really live around the area his school was situated in, but he could definitely map his way to the cinema near-by if need be, and it seemed this was one of those 'need be' times.

His teeth bit down on his bottom lip, trying to ground away the excitement that bubbled underneath his tongue, threatening to burst its way through clamped lips and teeth.

It was ridiculous how a simple piece of paper evoked such emotion in him. Desirable or not, it was happening, and Sungjong couldn't have been happier.










The movie was dated for the weekend, and Sungjong casually slipped a sheet of paper through the vents of Yuhwan's locker - all that was on the paper was the word 'yes', but he was sure Yuhwan would catch on. And perhaps his inkling was right, because the latter flashed him a smile later on in Literature class, then received a punch in the arm by one of his friends. Sungjong turned away with a slight blush, feeling rather schoolgirlish, and decided to relay this information to Sungmin via notes.

His fingers were still shaking when he slipped a sheet of paper onto Sungmin's desk, but he was definitely nowhere near as excited as the latter when Sungmin screeched in the middle of class, earning a well-deserved glare from their teacher. But he shrugged the teacher's reaction off and hurriedly wrote back a reply, curious eyes flickering up over toward Yuhwan. The boy had his head dutifully bent over his book once more, but his feet were tapping along the ground nervously, tongue cautiously at his lips. He was definitely aware of Sungjong's presence at that moment, and Sungmin decided to note that down.

Sungjong, on the other hand, was close to hyperventilation when he excused himself to the bathroom, Sungmin's note crumpled in his fist in flashes of excitement.

Sungmin had even offered to help dress him up in appropriate attire, but seeing what Sungmin wore to 'impress' the girl of his dreams (a.k.a, oversized sneakers and an oversized, baggy basketball top that was apparently a 'hot topic'), Sungjong politely declined as he made his way calmly to the bathroom, trembling hands stuffed inside his jacket pockets. He was completely out of sorts, and didn't miss the big smile plastered on his face when he caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror.










The weekend arrived in no time, but Sungjong didn't get much sleep the night before, and it was evident in his face with his sagging eye bags. Sungmin temporarily stole his sister's make-up bag and covered up the dark circles on the latter's skin.

("Okay, how do you know how to use make-up so well?"

"Don't ask."

"I'm asking."

"Well, just shut up.")

Without Sungmin's help, Sungjong managed to spruce himself up decently for the movies. He was borderline fancy dinner date, but he didn't mind - if he dressed the part, maybe it would eventually happen afterward. Besides, what is a date if not a movie and dinner, after all? Sungjong was a fine believer in chivalry, which was already in the midst of dying out anyway, but he still believed in it. A little hope here and there never hurt anyone (or so he says, but he knows that's definitely not true at all.)

And he probably should have kept telling himself the opposite when he rocked up at the meeting place fifteen minutes too early. Fifteen minutes too eagerly, waiting for his Prince Charming to arrive afterward. Sungjong occupied himself with popcorn, reading about the latest movies in the cinema, and overall time wasting that wouldn't do much for his brain cells. Except for a couple of games of sudoku on his phone, which would probably fair well for him in his future years.

But twenty minutes later (fifteen minutes on time, five minutes after the deadline); still no sighting of Yuhwan. Sungjong blew warm breath onto his hands to avoid the chilly air hurting them too much, and he stuffed them back inside his pockets as he paced the area outside the cinema, watching every single car passing by and hoping that Yuhwan's smiling face would pop up soon.

Another twenty minutes went by and a flourish of people entered the cinema, sitting through the movie credits, and anticipating the showing of the film. Sungjong slumped back against the cinema doors, head lolled back and resting against cool glass. His eyes stared blankly at the cloudy sky, able to smell the sensation of impending rain in the air. It would truly if it were to rain, however, because Sungjong would have to wait at the bus stop a miserable, sopping wet thing.

Given an extra half an hour following that, Sungjong kicked an empty, scrunched up beer can by the entrance as he let himself cry, feeling his shoulders sagging with disappointment, his heart heavy with unfulfilled expectations (yet again.) He kicked the can onto the street, ignored any honking cars as he paced his way across the damp street, not bothering with the umbrella dangling from his wrist. He didn't feel the need to shield himself from the rain, especially at that moment, and let his new clothes become wet, his own body soaked through to the bones. His hair was weakened of the gel that stiffened them, creating a flat canvas atop his head, one of glossy black hair that covered his face like in the movies.

He hopped onto whatever bus was waiting at his bus stop and continued to cry silently, his tears no longer hidden behind torrential rain. He knew the woman beside him felt uncomfortable, and so were the two girls swinging their legs quietly in front of him, but he didn't care. All he cared about was the sound of his heart shattering with hopelessness, and how he was going to determinedly give up on the prospect of love.

Whatever people were raging about, he just didn't understand.











Sungmin was half expecting the phone call, so when his phone rang in the middle of the night from a crying Sungjong, he was still wide awake and on his fifth cup of black tea. He blinked silently as he listened to his best friend's quiet sobs, voice coated with thick tears, and nothing but heartbreak.










The next day in Literature class (unfortunately, this class runs everyday for Sungjong, and there is absolutely no way to avoid seeing Yuhwan at least once a day), Sungjong slumped silently in his seat with red, puffy eyes that showed too clearly on his too-pale face. He was starting to feel a fever thundering down on him, but Sungmin could tell that it wasn't the fever that was dragging him down. Sungjong angled his legs toward the front of the class, hiding his face behind his book for the majority of the lesson. If only Sungmin weren't next to him, perhaps the explanation that tingled desperately on the tip of Yuhwan's tongue would finally be voiced.

The latter stared across the classroom for a full minute or two, eyes cloudy with excuses and lips bitten to oblivion. He didn't know how else to express his sense of remorse, because things never really went to plan. He knew that from experience, but this was the first time he was in such despair for having his plans flushed down the toilet so hastily.

He never meant to leave Sungjong waiting that whole day by the cinema. Complications arose, and he just couldn't make his way to the meeting place on time. Or at all, as his day eventually revealed to him, and hopelessness settled into the pit of his stomach as he stared wistfully at the other boy. Sungjong's face was still hidden from view, but Yuhwan knew those eyes wouldn't be as clear as daylight, cautious and sharp as they usually were - they would be outlined with red rings of heartache, fresh tears of despair coating his eyes with a shiny layer of loneliness.

He really never meant to hurt the boy that badly, but from the glares he was receiving from Sungmin - and when Sungmin glared, you knew it was the real thing - he could tell that he had.

It was strange that he was so drawn to Sungjong in the first place. The two barely spoke a single word to each other within the three years they've attended the same school, and only a few times had Yuhwan actually caught Sungjong's glance across the hallways. It didn't use to mean anything special to him, but lately... all he could see was Sungjong. All he felt was Sungjong's presence, and warmth, and hearing his laughter in class made him feel warm.

Perhaps it started with the time Yuhwan saw Sungjong crying to himself by his locker, sitting helplessly on the floor, a mess of arms and legs. Just crying by himself, holding shreds of something that looked like a test, and that was when Yuhwan really felt the magnetic pull. Sadistic, depressive, sure, but it was there, clear as Sungjong's eyes on a normal day. Clear as crystal, clear as Sungjong's voice when he spoke up in class, meek and quiet but clear and attractive.

Yuhwan felt surges of jealousy when his eyes followed Sungmin's hand snaking along Sungjong's shoulder, comforting and so best-friendly that Yuhwan felt his throat and mouth go dry, wanting to be the one to envelop the latter with comfort and affection instead. Silently, he stayed put - even his friends were silent beside him, heads lowered in slight shame, knowing their own mistakes led to Yuhwan's missed date after all. But Yuhwan wasn't angry at them.

He was angry with himself, because he had held Sungjong's heart all this time and never realised it.

How did he even come to know of Sungjong's crush on him, even when Sungjong himself wouldn't admit it? It wasn't through Sungmin, because he spoke to him even less than he did with Sungjong. But it wasn't through a sixth sense either. It was through observation, through his own friends looking around more often than he did. And it was his own prying and discoveries that later uncovered his own feelings for the latter.

Sweet Sungjong. The boy who rarely joked around in class (but when he did, the whole class joked with him.) The boy who liked to do homework at lunch sometimes, because they were the small moments of quiet and peace he could steal out of his day. The boy whose eyes, when they were watching him, were lit up with some unknown sliver of emotion. But now, Yuhwan knows that the emotion shining brightly in Sungjong's eyes would be affection, delirious attraction, a bee drawn to a flower that was overflowing with sweet nectar.

Funnily enough, that was how Yuhwan felt about Sungjong too. Even though he knew next to nothing about the latter (except for a few traits he picked up through daily observations), it only made him more curious about the boy. It only motivated him to make a move, and become just a smidgen closer to the latter than he could ever wish for.

But now, the only vibe he could get from Sungjong was a heavy tension, one that spelled out something close to betrayal, irreparable delusion. All efforts down the drain. Chances wasted because of forgetfulness and insensitivity.

Yuhwan would just have to wait.










It was days before Sungjong finally looked at Yuhwan's face, the first time in a long time and he almost couldn't map out the latter's features anymore. In those days of quiet and peace, where his thoughts fell into alignment with the stars of his schoolwork, Sungjong shoved into every corner and crevice of his mind something to occupy himself from his thoughts of Yuhwan. He didn't want to remember Yuhwan just yet - he wanted to forget him for a while and hurt himself, slowly heal himself from the hurt so that he was really, truly ready to look at the boy in his eyes when the time came.

Sungmin urged him to look up while Yuhwan was speaking in Literature class, because they were discussing what love was to each and every one of them, and Yuhwan's definition was truly heartbreaking.

"Love is when you're unable to forgive yourself for hurting someone. Love is hurting someone and being too dense to realise it until it's too late, and being too cowardly to do anything about it. Love... love is intangible and cannot be accounted for. Every mistake is your own, and love stops you from fixing them because you're in too deep in your thoughts, in your own world, trying to fix yourself before you fix someone else. Love makes you go insane every night because you can't sleep, the person's face burned into the backs of your eyelids when everything else is black. Love is not for everyone, but yet it is. Everybody can be in love, and everybody can fall out of love. But love keeps you hooked for as long as you can tell is worth it. After that... love crumbles like every other thing in the world."

The teacher was silent for a short moment, unaware that Yuhwan's gaze had already shifted away and toward Sungjong, who stared back, bewildered and shocked. Yuhwan's lips didn't tug up into their usual nervous smile, because there was nothing to be nervous about anymore. His lips instead stayed pressed together into a firm line, reassurance that everything he had just said came from his own heart of love, his own mind that tangled in thoughts of nothing but Sungjong all day and all night.

The teacher, still standing in mild shock, opened his mouth to say something. Only, Sungjong leapt in first.

"But love means sacrifice." His clear voice was muddy today, shaky and unsure of where he was going with his own spiel. "Love means no ego and no pride and nothing of the sorts. You throw caution into the wind when love is involved, don't you? Wouldn't you do anything and everything to make sure the person you love was happy to be in your presence? Even when you hurt them, you don't back off... you don't cower or shy away. You look love in the eye like you're staring death down the barrel of a gun. You look at love and you tell love to step out of your way, because you're a man on a mission in love. You're a man who's willing to fix each and every mistake even if love ties you down to the ground, even when your head is stuck up way in the clouds. Just being down to Earth and realistic doesn't make love 'love'. It makes love a tragedy, a problem. A complication. And love is far from being a complication. It's the process of falling in love that's a complication."

Sungjong took a quiet breath as soon as he was finished, dropping his gaze away from Yuhwan and onto the table when he realised he had been staring for far too long. Yuhwan's own eyes were glassy, not with tears but with contemplation. Hazy, not with troubles but with muddy light. Like a window covered in frost and you can't quite wipe it off with the sleeve of your jumper. He didn't say anything, but Sungjong volunteered himself off to the bathroom for a quick moment while the teacher rearranged his notes.

Yuhwan thought nothing of it as he leapt up afterward, the whole class dead silent as they watched the two from the classroom, all eyes watching the window warily and selfishly hoping the two figures stayed in view.

Instead, Sungjong rushed himself off to the locker bay and took a deep breath of the musky air, wanting to be somewhere familiar and suffocating, and nothing bright and happy like Yuhwan's eyes. He felt as nervous as Yuhwan's smile, hands trembling as they reached through his black hair, tangling the locks through ragged fingernails, bitten down in anxiety. He didn't want to hear the footsteps following quietly behind him, and he didn't want anything to do with the hand that rested gently on his shoulder.

"Not now." he mumbled, clamping his eyes shut against the force of having his body slammed against the lockers, well aware behind pink eyelids that he was face-to-face with the source of his troubles. He risked opening his eyes, and stared Yuhwan straight into his own, watching the haze and glassiness slowly dissipate with every second that ticked by painfully slowly.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

"Love is what I hate myself for, because I've hurt you, and I can see that. I can't call this love. But whatever this is, it's my version of love, it's what I feel love is. I don't know what to say anymore, Sungjong, because we don't know each other to be this close." There goes the nervous smile that's tugging at a corner of his lips, and Sungjong casts his gaze on Yuhwan's mouth for a second too long.

It's not a big crash that draws them together, and it's anything but clumsy. It's hesitant, sweet like Yuhwan's minty breath, shaky like the trembling of Sungjong's fingers as they grip at the locker his back is pressed against. It's when their lips touch and mouths move together in soft, slow desperation, that really draws him from his shell. It's when his fingers find their way to Yuhwan's face, finger pads wandering over smooth skin, chiselled cheekbones and mapping out the shape of Yuhwan's closed eyes, when he really feels his heart pounding against his rib cage.

There aren't any words as Sungjong eventually pushed Yuhwan away, watching the latter stumble back against the opposite aisle of lockers. He's filled with rage and anger and disappointment in himself because everything feels like a figment of his imagination. Nothing feels real, except for the tingling in his lips, the way he's breathing too heavily for a normal afternoon and the sensation his fingers are left with, trying to remember the fragility of Yuhwan's skin.

"You're an idiot" is all he whispers before shrugging away from the lockers, taking a slow, deliberate step forward toward the latter. "You're an idiot for being so cowardly. You're an idiot for kissing me in the middle of a hallway, when you know you shouldn't have followed me from the classroom in the first place. You're an idiot for thinking me so easy this way. Are you kidding me...? You think you can hurt me, kiss me, and I'd fall to my knees and worship the ground your feet walk upon?"

Yuhwan's shocked to say the least, because sweet, gentle Sungjong would never say these words. It's now damaged Sungjong. It's heartbroken Sungjong. It's untrusting Sungjong who is seconds away from throwing a punch to Yuhwan's face. But it's also hopeful Sungjong who leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his lips, and he can taste blood.

"I couldn't make it that day because my friend was hurt." he mumbled against Sungjong's lips, and the boy pulled away ever-so-slowly, trying to let the words sink in slowly. "I'm an idiot for not finding a way of letting you know sooner, and waiting this long to finally talk to you, and letting you almost slip through my fingers. And I'm an idiot for thinking you easy in this manner, but I promise you that wasn't what I originally thought. Only now do I think it, but by no means is it meant to insult you."

Sungjong looked at him oddly, then remembered how one of Yuhwan's friends had a cast wrapped around his wrist the day following the rainy weekend. He could remember the way Yuhwan sniffled in class that time, nose red and tissues constantly in his hand, because the rain must have hit him too. Now Sungjong can remember that both their eyes were red, not just his. He was being unreliable to himself, an untrustworthy narrator of his own story because he was reluctant to face the truth.

"I know now." he whispered, pulling away entirely and rocking back onto his heels. Time was ticking by slowly and they would be in trouble if they didn't make it back to class soon, but he was reluctant to leave this time frame as it was. He didn't know how to end this precious, fragile moment, and the tension would break with any action he decided upon. But Yuhwan didn't move, only looking at him with bright eyes, eyes that were lit up with hope. Mirroring Sungjong's.

Perhaps Yuhwan wasn't as flippant as Sungjong originally thought. He never seemed like someone to mess around with the prospect of emotions and feelings, and he felt guilty for ever thinking so in the first place. And he didn't move either, because moving required effort that he couldn't draw away from staring at Yuhwan. Staring at the boy, who was almost a whole head taller than he was, who had sun-kissed hair and skin, who probably had scars all over his body from being smacked by waves and beach and surfboards.

Sungjong's world was coloured silver when he felt warmth press against his hand, registering only moments later that the warmth was Yuhwan's own hand, fingers curling around his and squeezing with a touch of hopefulness. Sungjong squeezed back.

Forgiveness.

But not forgetfulness.

It took all the strength in his body to eventually pull away, announcing that they best make their way back to class before their teacher snapped out of his reverie. They walked back together, barely an inch of distance between them, but not touching each other. They weren't at that stage yet, but they were at some level with each other. It wasn't stranger, it wasn't friend, but it wasn't lover either. It was that fine balance between the three - clueless of one another, but yearning for the other's touches.

Sungmin watched the window quietly as he spotted the couple approaching. He tore his gaze away from the pair, waiting until Sungjong was seated beside him before letting a soft smile overtake his lips, watching the pink tinge in his best friend's cheeks and knowing instantly why his lips were swollen red.

So were Yuhwan's. And Yuhwan's friends stared at him oddly, asking questions in hasty whispers.

"I can't tell you" was the reply they received, before every student in the classroom abandoned their curiousities, and focused back on their books.










You would think the story ends there, with some sappy conclusion of lying in tall grass and staining white shirts green with nature. Fingertips would tangle together like legs underneath sheets, and a head would lay on a chest, listening quietly to a riveting heartbeat that was quicker than usual. All because the other was there.

But Sungjong's life wasn't like a movie. And nothing was really picturesque for him. Yuhwan didn't live life like in the books either, but for them both, that was how reality served them their complications. There was no need for melancholic moments if there were no reason for them, because enough tears had been shed over the course, from both teams.

Sungjong was quiet on the bus ride to school, and Yuhwan sitting next to him served as the reason why. Their hands didn't touch, but they shared the same iPod, and it was enough for Sungjong to feel elated. They haven't really passed that boundary that they danced on together, but they passed the stage of comfort and satisfaction with simple glances.

Sometimes they would hold hands, and sometimes they wouldn't.

Sometimes they kissed. More often than not, they didn't. And it was alright for them.

Sungjong's still a little damaged, and still a little broken, and still a little untrusting. Because not much in his life liked to go according to plan, but Yuhwan only knew that so well. He didn't will for the accident to happen that very day, and surely none of them prayed that rain would bring them sickness the very next day. None of them wanted red rings of exhaustion around their eyes, or bitten nails that hurt to touch.

They were still themselves throughout this ordeal, only changed through circumstances. Yuhwan's nervous smile still lingered every so often, but when he met Sungjong's eyes, his smile would change to one of a stronger emotion, more affectionate impacting. Sungjong's eyes were still clear with knowledge and wit, still very bound to his old childhood beliefs, but he let his eyes grow hazy once in a while with confusion. Because he didn't know whether to stay true to himself, or to stray from the truth for the sake of happiness.

Literature classes were different now. Sungmin sat on the other side of Sungjong because Yuhwan occupied his old seat. Sungmin would watch the two curiously, because never once did they do anything out of the ordinary. Both were studious during class, not even passing each other secret glances of longing and willing, or laughter of secrecy and delicacy. It all seemed normal, yet different. Everything was the same, yet changed.

It would probably never be love for them. Only their version of what love was. It was the hole in Sungjong's heart that was yet to heal, and it was the gun barrel Yuhwan was staring down now. It was risk, it was sacrifice, and it was fear all in one.

It was all they had with each other. And all they would ever have.

Author Note: It's a confusing piece that was brought about by a wonderful, bittersweet playlist I had been listening to. I have a whole list of recommendations to listen to while reading this... but hopefully, reading this by itself will be enough to satisfy some of you. I can't explain where this came from, really. All I know is that it's pretty light hearted with a lot of heavy bass. Yeah.