~Cold

52. Eunhyuk & Donghae

Beads of cold water rolled across the glass and pooled on the table as the cold drink was getting warmer. Wordlessly, he picked up a napkin and dabbed it at the wet spot, more to distract himself than anything else. They’ve been sitting at the coffee shop for quite some time already. Donghae had already finished his own drink. His eyes were fixated on hands, folded in front of him on the table, his thumbs restlessly swirling around each other. The young man stole a quick glance at his watch, then the man sitting across the table, then back at his hands.

“I should probably go.”

The statement hung heavily between them like the yellow dust does on Seoul’s sky.

“Why? Are you worried that your girlfriend might come looking for you and find that you’re with me?”

“Hyukjae…”

The other man scoffed, finally allowing himself to express his anger.

“Fine, go. But tell me one last thing, Donghae. Do you honestly believe that you’ll be happy with her?”

His sharp stare was too much for Donghae. His words, even more so.

“I… think so,” he answered, his thumbs swirling again.

Pain flashed across Hyukjae’s face, and he desperately reached for the younger man’s fidgeting hands, covering them with his own.

“Hae,” he tried, his voice almost cracking, “I could make you happy, you know that.”

Donghae drew in a shaky breath, but made no effort to acknowledge Hyukjae’s hold. “I know. But my family…”

He didn’t need to say anything else. Hyukjae retracted his hands and leaned back to the chair defeated.

“What does she have to say about us?”

“She’s convinced it was just a phase of mine. We talked about it.”

“And what about you?”

“…” Donghae did not speak, only checked his watch. It was then that Hyukjae realised he had lost him forever.

“I see…”

“I really have to go,” muttered the younger after a long pause. He stood up and was met with Hyukjae’s blank mask of a face when he looked at him at last. His mouth opened and closed, not able to come up with anything significant enough to say, the last words he’d ever speak to the other.

“Goodbye, Hyukjae,” was all he managed, and then he was gone, vanished in the city’s bursting streets.

Hyukjae remained seated. More water had gathered on the table, and he dabbed at it slowly. But the napkin was already soaked and the ice cubes not yet thoroughly melted. His hand stilled, fingers clenching to a fist and crushing the piece of paper. The sleeve of his jacket was getting wet but did not care. He did not care anymore.