The notebook fell to the floor in a soft chorus of fluttering papers, settling gently at Kyung’s feet as his fingers continued to hug the air. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t possible that he was the reason Jaehyo’s relationship with Jiho ended, or that he was the reason Jaehyo still seemed so miserable. And he was miserable. The man’s blank eyes stared solemnly at Kyung, taking in his reaction to Jaehyo’s unpleasant memories.

“No. No, that’s not right,” Kyung mumbled, squeezing his hands tightly shut. “That makes no sense, why would he –”

“See, that’s what I said.” Jaehyo wouldn’t take his eyes away from Kyung, and it made the latter squeamish. He couldn’t remember the last time Jaehyo looked at him with anything other than boiling hatred. At that moment, his gaze was tepid. “I didn’t think it made sense, either. It didn’t make sense that he chose you over me, but he did.”

Kyung sighed. It was strange to think that Jiho had left Jaehyo for him, perhaps even intended to win him over. Suddenly, the way Jiho’s hand clasped around his own on that November day didn’t seem so innocuous.

The two men sat in silence, each marinating in Jaehyo’s admission. The older man broke the silence with a sigh, stifling it by pressing both hands against his face. It was hard enough for Jaehyo to admit that Jiho left him, but it was even harder to admit it to the one Jiho loved. It was torturous. Painful.

“I know you’re sick,” he continued, not noticing the way Kyung flinched and looked away. “I get that, I guess. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hate you for what happened. Does it?”

The red head looked up, blinking at the question. ‘Of course you can hate me,’ he wanted to say. After all, he was the sole reason Jaehyo had lost his happiness. He felt as if he deserved it. Kyung gave a short intake of air but stopped himself before the words could spill out. It was a good thing, because at that moment Jaehyo gathered the fallen papers in his hands and haphazardly stuck them back in the book. He flung it towards Kyung, and it landed neatly next to him on the couch.

Kyung searched the other’s face, but he still found very little hint of what he was thinking or feeling. He didn’t understand why, unlike every other time they’d met in the past year, Jaehyo was suddenly capable of masking his emotions.

Finally, Jaehyo stood. “You can have that. He’d probably rather you have those anyway.” Kyung nodded and watched with a growing lump in his throat as Jaehyo moved to leave. But if Kyung thought the man was only there to rid himself of all memories of Jiho and all ties to Kyung, that belief wavered at Jaehyo’s next words.

“I’ll see you later, Kyung-ah.”

Jaehyo watched as the slightly smaller man crawled out of his bed, his back still gleaming with sweat as he made his way to the bathroom. With a sigh, Jaehyo rolled over and wrapped his arms around his waist, trying not to feel more worthless and dirtier than he already did. Going to Kyung’s was probably a mistake, but the reality of having faced the very man who tore Jiho away from him hadn’t quite sunk in. He’d needed a distraction, and he’d gotten it.

The other man had returned, his youthful face staring at Jaehyo with growing discomfort. He held his boxers limply in his hands, seemingly unsure if he should slip them back on or not. He asked, hesitantly, “Do you want me to stay?”

A nod.

Jaehyo felt the bed dip as the other man returned to his side and sighed when his hot skin pressed against his own. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Of course he wasn’t okay. He’d hastily cleaned his wrecked apartment before asking his friend over and had almost fallen apart in front of him. Almost, because the other man had taken Jaehyo in his arms before he could even open his mouth and then led him to his own bed. When their bodies intertwined, Jaehyo moaned and whispered that he desperately needed this, all of this.

“That’s not all you wanted me for, is it?”

Jaehyo turned over and shimmied beneath the blankets and rested his head against the other’s chest before he whispered “No.”

“Good. Cause I’m your friend, not your .”

“Say that again.”

“What?” Jaehyo repeated the request and, with a chuckle, the baby-faced man said it again. “I’m your friend.”

He needed that too. A friend to reassure him that he was still desirable.

“Talk to me, Luhan.”

The slightly older man sighed (Jaehyo knew he would) and began speaking about nothing in particular. He tal