Tao was clutching at my side, and he won’t look at me, but I couldn’t look away either. I stared at his face, at every line of it, shone on by the lamplight. I held the necklace around his neck, and twirled it in my fingers. “It means something to you?” I whispered flatly, almost as if I know it did.

He glanced sideways at me, then away. “You could say that,”

“What?” I insisted to know, but he was already shaking his head. “Damn it Jongin, don’t press me on this!” he snapped, pulling away. My breath caught at the sharpness of his tone, and the hardness in his gaze. He looked at me as if I was some stranger.

“Al ––All right,” easily, I rose to my feet, feeling numb and weighed down. He watched me cross the room. “Where are you going?”

“Dunno. Out.”

I saw him reach out for me, but I turned away to leave, and he watched me go, silent. I walked the shadowed streets, cold seeping through to my bones. And though I walked for long hours, until the moon hung high over my head, I couldn’t shake the uneasiness that clung to me.

Tao had always been tight-lipped about his past, but it sat easier when we were near-strangers.

I shared my greatest fears with him, and he still did not trust me enough to even begin to open up to me. No matter how many times I tried to tell myself it shouldn’t matter, I couldn’t ignore the pain.

I returned in the dark, few hours before dawn. Tao was asleep, carefully lying on his half of the bed so as to leave me plenty of room, but I didn’t slip next to him. I took a blanket for my own and curled up on the chair by the window, instead. I stared out at the stars, waiting for sleep that never came.

The days passed without any further excitement, but the damage was already done. I tried to ignore our fight, but every lull in our conversation, every awkward silence reminded me of the things that lie unsaid between us. Now I knew how vulnerable I truly was each time he passed by me without saying a word.

I didn’t know when the decision came to me, but it was there suddenly, with an astonishing clarity. It frightened me, but only for an instant. Then I was electrified into action, and when Tao came home that night, I was nearly done packing. He stood in the doorway, silent as a ghost, as he watched me gather my things. The weight of his gaze was falling heavily across my shoulders. I waited for him to say something, anything, but he remained silent, and tension filled the room until I choked on it.

At last, it became too much to bear. I threw down the trousers I was folding and turned to face him. “Say something, Huang Zi Tao, don’