Taekwoon had known this was coming: he'd known for a very long time. It was a mix of things that had alerted him. Wonshik's sudden distance, his sudden disappearance in the mornings. The fact they didn't talk when they watched television, and the fact they didn't even cuddle in the evenings any more. Or, perhaps was it the fact that Wonshik seemed to be less, and less available in the evenings. Taekwoon thought; they must have been down to three nights a week that they saw each other other than dinner; and they didn't always eat dinner together, either. Some nights, Wonshik never even came back to the apartment.

The man in question sat opposite. The glass dining table was cleared of everything except an unlit candle. Wonshik wore a suit, his jacket was hung up and his tie sat around his neck, though it was undone along with the top few buttons of his white shirt. His shoes were kicked off under the table. Taekwoon just wore sweat pants and a white wife beater; he'd finished work early and had gone for a work out before Wonshik came home.

The older man watched.

Since Wonshik had spoken there had been no sounds. The ticking of the clock that sat above the oven seemed to halt and even the old leaky tap, that had been dripping since they'd moved in three years ago, seemed to have the courtesy to be quiet.

There were no lights on in the apartment. Taekwoon sat on the dark side of the table and all he could see of Wonshik were the parts of his face and body that were lit from the moonlight coming in through the blinds. Taekwoon's bare feet nuzzled into the fur rug under the table, and his toes clenched around the material. His hand was wrapped around a coffee mug, and he lent forward on the table with a sigh. His other hand rested on the back of his neck.

It seemed strange to him. They had been together for five years, had been living together for three--- and now this. In reality it had been none of those things which had told him that this breakup was going to happen.

It was the perfume Wonshik smelt of, it was the lipstick Taekwoon often spotted on his shirt. The marks on his neck... the scratches on his back that he'd seen in the shower. He didn't question them-- he didn't want to. It was maybe wrong but, he was content to let Wonshik continue to sleep with someone else as long as he was his.

But now....

Taekwoon opened his mouth to protest against Wonshik's break up proposal but instead he just stared down at his coffee. “What did I do wrong?”

“I told you- it's not you-”

“It's me, huh,” Taekwoon said bitterly. “After five years.”

“Taekwoon.”

“How long were you with her for?”

Wonshik stared at him. His fingers pulled at his face before he stood up and skulked into the kitchen. Taekwoon watched him flit about with a glass, before returning to the table with a bottle of whiskey. He poured himself a measure, drank it in one shot, then poured another.

Taekwoon found it ironic that it was Wonshik who felt like he needed the strong drink. His fingers curled around his coffee tighter. He hated when Wonshik drank, he hated when he smoked. He hated when he flirted with anything that moved, and he hated more than anything when he paid more attention to anything else than him. But it was okay-- Taekwoon could get over any of those things, he knew that.

He could be content if Wonshik flirted with a pretty girl or a handsome boy, he might overlook a kiss or two, maybe forgive a night or a few... he just wanted Wonshik to be his. Now he was suddenly in a position where there was a chance that wouldn't happen.

“I wish you wouldn't do that in here,” Taekwoon whispered, watching as Wonshik lit a cigarette. “Go onto the balcony or something.”

Wonshik's lip curled up and he exhaled in Taekwoon's direction. “I wish you didn't disapprove of everything I do.”

Taekwoon bit his lip to swallow down another retort. He didn't want to end with him on an argument. He didn't want to end with him at all; he anted to stay friends but he didn't think he could do that. He should accept it, move on, find someone else---

He ran his hand over his unshaven face. Wonshik stood up. They stared at each other for a moment, before Wonshik opened the balcony door and stood outside. Taekwoon didn't understand at all. Sure, Wonshik was the free type, he liked space and he hated rules... he liked to do as he pleased and it was hard to tie him down but he was doing well in a relationship: he'd told Taekwoon he was starting to enjoy it, that he could see the thrill, the challenge and the reward in just having one partner.

He realised Wonshik had never answered his question. He drank his bitter, cold coffee and followed him outside. He lent against the door frame, one leg slightly bent as his foot rested on top of the other. “How long, Wonshik?”

“Ten months, here and there,” Wonshik shrugged. “I met her in a club.”

“Do you love her?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Do you love her?” Taekwoon pressed.

“Yes, no-- I don't know. What does it matter?”

Taekwoon sighed. “Because if you don't love her, then there's another reason you're leaving me.” He didn't want to sound desperate, but he needed to know. “Do I not satisfy you right? Do we not make love enough? Are you tired of waking up to me?”

“Taekwoon, stop-”

“Are you tired of my cooking? Is it my habits-- how I like the house clean, how I like it ordered?” He paused. “Do you hate how I nag you? What did I do?”

“You didn't do anything.”

“So why are you leaving me?”

“Taekwoon-” Wonshik sighed, taking another drag on his cigarette. He looked over at his partner, before staring out at the city nights. “She makes me happy.”

“And I don't?”

“You do-- just... just in other ways,” Wonshik sighed, stubbing his cigarette out on the rail of the balcony, before flicking it into a disused plant pot in the corner. “She makes me feel alive, Taekwoon. You used to-”

“But I don't any more,” he finished. He felt sick.

Wonshik was one person, Taekwoon knew that, he was just a person. But he was suddenly aware that he didn't know how to be on his own, that he didn't know how to cook for one person, he didn't know how to function because in his mind it had always been him and Wonshik, and it was always going to be him and Wonshik. Maybe they'd get a dog, or a cat—they could baby sit their nieces and nephews, their friends kids and make do with those until Wonshik decided if he'd like to adopt or not.

Taekwoon had everything planned out and he felt exposed and lost. He wanted to go to bed, close his eyes and not wake up. He wanted, part of him, to push Wonshik from the balcony, he wanted to yell at him-- to scream and hate him. He wanted to love him more than anything, and he wanted Wonshik to hold him and tell him he was sorry, that he'd made a mistake-- that no one made him happier than Taekwoon did.

He wanted to kiss him, to hold him-- to take him into their bedroom and make love to him. To wake up and have it been just a dream, to wake up tomorrow and find that Wonshik had decided to stay but... but....

“Taekwoon, don't keep me here.”

His throat felt dry. “Why are you making me to be the bad person, Wonshik?”

“Taekwoon-- just let me go. Get over me.”

“Wonshik-”

“Listen to yourself, you're a man, get a grip-”

Taekwoon breathed. What was he going to do? Phone his best friend and cry over it? Of course not. Go out and get drunk? Of course not. But he didn't know how to hold it together at all either.

“Taekwoon, I'm leaving you,” Wonshik said firmly.

He held onto his breath tightly as Wonshik brushed past. He stood in the door way of the balcony, just staring at nothing. He could hear his partner making noises-- packing probably. Taekwoon wanted to make a comment about making sure he didn't pack any of his things, but---

But the more he tried to speak, the more he tried to think of any argument the more his throat closed up, the dryer his mouth went. His head felt busy and yet empty at once. He tried hard to think of anything else, absolutely anything else other than this-- but that was all he could think of and he hated himself for it.

Wonshik cleared his throat and Taekwoon turned. He was stood there with a bag over his shoulder. He wanted to ask if he'd see him again-- but he didn't want to hear the answer no matter what it was, so he stayed silent.

“Goodbye then, Taekwoon.”

Taekwoon bit his lip. How could he stop this? How could he make Wonshik love him more than his... his girlfriend? He felt more sick. Maybe he'd got her pregnant. Taekwoon didn't mind-- if Wonshik had a little girl... they could babysit, she could come on weekends. He could spoil her, be her step dad, take pretty photos of her--

And if it was a boy he could teach him how to play football, he could take him to the park every time they saw each other. He'd be a good dad, Taekwoon knew that... Wonshik knew that. If it was just a baby, Taekwoon knew that Wonshik wouldn't break up over it....

“I love you, Wonshik,” he said weakly. “Please don't go.”

“Taekwoon...” Wonshik sighed, adjusting his bag strap.

Taekwoon moved forward and took his hand in his own, linking his fingers. “Please stay,” he pressed his forehead against Wonshik's. “Please, Wonshik-- please.” He placed a kiss on his nose, on his cheeks... on the corners of his eyes, his lips-- he kissed everywhere for when he left Taekwoon wanted to remember him entirely and perfectly. He knew it was hopeless-- but he thanked Wonshik for letting him, he thanked him for kissing back---

“Wonshik-” he murmured as he pulled away. He gripped his hair tightly in his fingers, forehead pressed against Wonshik's as he stared into his eyes. “Be happy.”

Wonshik smiled somewhat bitterly as Taekwoon let him go. “You too.”

Taekwoon let out a breath and nodded though he made no verbal promise. Then, Wonshik moved slowly to the door. It creaked open and Taekwoon watched. Wonshik lingered in the door for a moment, before he turned around and closed it behind him.

As the door clicked softly, Taekwoon looked around his empty apartment. It was silent but the dripping of the old tap and the ticking of the clock over the oven. On the dining table sat a glass and a bottle of whiskey and a cold cup of coffee along with an unlit candle, illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the open door of the balcony. Taekwoon took the socks from under the table before slipping them on and taking Wonshik's seat. The apartment was cold.