“I had fun recalling things,” Luhan says as soon as he and Kyungsoo step out of the dingy diner. The sky above them is gray, sunlight arrested in between the sheets of clouds that had seemingly formed during the time they were inside, but they don't rush. After all, the chance to talk with an old friend and rekindle things of the past doesn't come often. Luhan turns to face the other and smiles. “I'm glad I bumped into you.”

Kyungsoo tries to smile back. He manages a small quirk of the lips. “I'm... glad too.”

“Well, take care.” Luhan nods and turns around, and they separate ways.

The first droplets of the rain land gently on his hair—too gentle that Kyungsoo only becomes aware of the drizzle after a stray droplet lightly grazes the skin of his forehead. Rain showers always start off slowly, like an artist who's hesitantly painting the canvas with blotches of a darker shade before going all-out and drenching it with buckets of paint. Kyungsoo takes refuge in a nearby waiting shed. The rain is yet to pour, but his cheeks are already wet. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his cheeks dry and realizes that they're not wet from the rain when his vision blurs and a tear makes its way down his left cheek.

Kyungsoo blames Luhan for mentioning a name he had tried so hard to forget and for failing to hide the pity in his voice when he said, “I heard about you and Jongin.”

–--

His hands tremble as he pours the last contents of the bottle. A single pill lands on his palm and he quickly brings it to his mouth before forcing it down his throat.

The pill makes its way down his esophagus slowly, scraping against walls of tissue without the aid of anything liquid. Kyungsoo winces at the pain, putting a hand over his neck and obliviously digging nails onto his skin, but he doesn't drink water. He chooses to feel the pain—to feel the pill inside his mouth—because it's not like the feeling is foreign. Sleeping pills had always been his friend. They let him feel at ease, able to rest, able to forget about things that keep him up during the night; they let him forget about Jongin.

---

Kyungsoo shuts the door and immediately catches the worn-out pair of leather shoes lined up beside the ones he owns—an eyesore among his Louis Vuittons. All the lights are on and there's a low buzzing coming from the television in his living room.

He goes straight to the kitchen, counts the number of edibles inside the fridge, and sighs. Luckily, there's still enough for a decent meal. He asks, hoping that he could be heard, “Same old?”

Nobody answers.

The television is turned off by the time Kyungsoo has set the table for two and had neatly placed a flower vase as a complimentary centerpiece.

“Do I smell spaghetti?” comes Jongin's voice, echoing clearly from the living room.

Kyungsoo acts normal when he hears Jongin's footsteps enter the kitchen. He doesn't face him. “How did you get in?”

“You never change your lock.”

Kyungsoo doesn't need to look back to confirm that he is being grinned at.

Jongin is by the kitchen's entrance, body hunched against the doorway with a hand scratching his tummy and the other propping himself up on the counter, as if he's using it to support himself from the shock of meeting Kyungsoo for the first time in months.

That's what Kyungsoo likes to think, but then Jongin retracts his hand and uses it to pull a chair he could sit on. Kyungsoo is then reminded that he has always had the knack for being wrong in many ways than he should, especially when it involved Jongin.

He clears his throat and takes the seat across Jongin. “Remind me to change it soon.”

“Okay,” Jongin pauses before looking up at him, lips forming into a lopsided smirk. “waiting by the doorstep is fine with me.”

Kyungsoo nods. “It has always been.”

–

The first time Kyungsoo found Jongin at his doorstep was after Jongin first disappeared, thinking he and Kyungsoo wouldn't work out.

Kyungsoo was left wondering where Jongin had gone and when he would be coming back, and it stayed like that for weeks until Jongin showed up at his doorstep on a Saturday with a bag of Popsicles and a sorry smile. Kyungsoo had let him in, saying, “Let's eat those before they all melt.”

The second time Jongin left was when Kyungsoo's mom told him that her son would be better off with a wife and a family of his own than with a confused teenager who knew nothing but to run away.

Kyungsoo held Jongin's hand tightly at that; he stood for them when Jongin didn't— Jongin who ran away with nothing but an unsteady job, a beaten-up duffel bag, a pack of cigarettes, and a bottle of energy drink he hoped would get him through a week or two. It was on a weekend when Kyungsoo opened the door just before Jongin could knock.

The last time Jongin left was days, weeks, months ago—Kyungsoo hates counting, but it was when Jongin was sure they wouldn't work out. Kyungsoo spent cold nights at a convenience store, tracing the raindrops in his usual seat by the glass wall, and rainy ones crammed up inside a phone booth, relentlessly redialing Jongin's number which had been ingrained deep in his fingers. Still, Jongin didn't come back, and he believed that it was the end for the both of them.

But now they're sitting close together, knees bumping and shoulders touching. Jongin insisted that they eat at the living room and Kyungsoo said: “Okay.” even though he's afraid that Jongin might spill Kimchi sauce on his newly-washed carpet.

Jongin eats with great familiarity, chewing slowly as if he was relishing each bite, as they watch a recorded episode of their once favorite cartoon; the one about a violent coyote and a blue road runner. Kyungsoo finds himself staring at Jongin instead of the cartoon episode he has watched for countless times, more than enough for him to be tired with it. And Jongin still looks the same, except from the dark circles under his eyes and the subtle dip of his cheekbones, the slightest hint of exhaustion. It makes him look like he hasn't eaten for days.

“It's still my favorite show,” Jongin says in between chewing and placing his plate on the coffee table.

Kyungsoo looks away and laughs awkwardly in response, a little forced, too out of the blue, “Same.”

Jongin doesn't finish his dinner, and Kyungsoo concludes that he can't expect Jongin to like the same thing forever. He should have asked Jongin what he wanted to eat.

–

It's a quarter till midnight when Kyungsoo excuses himself to his bedroom with a bottle of brandy and a packet of sedatives in hand.

Jongin follows him.

He lies down on his spot on Kyungsoo's bed and silently counts the sharp ridges of Kyungsoo's spine, traveling a finger down the older's clothed back. Kyungsoo's breathing is deep and heavy against his fingers; it's as if every breath that escapes his lungs ends up as a sigh.

Kyungsoo tries to empty the bottle of brandy as fast as he can and he deliberately abandons the sleeping pills when Jongin's hand stops on his lower back.

“Hyung,” Jongin says, tugging on the belt loops of Kyungsoo's slacks. He lays Kyungsoo down and places a knee on each side of the latter's waist when he doesn't receive an answer, but Kyungsoo still doesn't flinch, just looks up at him and blinks with his lips parted. And Jongin thinks Kyungsoo looks beautiful like this, fringe covering the slightest hint of tears in his eyes. He leans over and breathes, the tip of his nose nuzzling Kyungsoo's cheek, “I missed you. Did you miss me?”

Kyungsoo shudders when Jongin's breath dances on his cheek, but he doesn't answer. Instead, he looks up and their eyes meet. And, suddenly, the thought that maybe there's still a way to stitch up the gap that's continuously growing between them hits him too hard—that maybe Jongin came back because he wanted to set things right between the two of them again, just like how he did in the times he came back from running away; to open and heal aged scabs. Without thinking, Kyungsoo presses his lips against Jongin's in an experimental chaste kiss, cupping Jongin's face and pulling him down so his lips could reach up to his chin, his nose, his forehead because God, I missed you too, Jongin.

At that Jongin grabs hold of Kyungsoo's hands and pins them down on the bed. He starts kissing Kyungsoo back aggressively, almost as if there was a burning need to taste Kyungsoo's lips and a moan escapes from his mouth when Kyungsoo willingly opens his lips, allowing his probing tongue to enter.

They don't waste time and start ridding each other of clothing. Jongin succeeds in loosening Kyungsoo's tie and ing Kyungsoo's shirt. Kyungsoo is already breathing heavily by the time Jongin parts the kiss for air and starts trailing his lips from his plump ones down to his jaw, to his neck, and to the expanse of his bare shoulder, making sure to leave marks on the sensitive spots.

Kyungsoo rasps when he feels Jongin's teeth somewhere on his neck, “J-Jongin don—” but his breathing hitches and he's unable to continue what he wants to say when he feels Jongin's crotch rub against his own, the friction between the rough material of their pants making his head dizzy with want. He tugs on Jongin's belt and—

Then, the phone in his pocket rings—it reels Kyungsoo back from the crazed tension between him and Jongin. Realization dawns on him, and he remembers that he's not supposed to be doing any of this. At least, not with Jongin. He gently pushes Jongin away. “Jongin—”

Kyungsoo lets out a strangled moan when a hand ghosts above the growing tent in his pants. He pushes Jongin away harder this time, stuttering, “S-Stop.”

As soon as Jongin reels back, Kyungsoo shrugs his shirt on, sits up, and fishes the phone out of his pocket. “I... I have to take this,” he says, before getting off of the bed and walking into the veranda.

The cold city breeze brushes against his bare skin and he winces when he breathes in a faint hint of Jongin's perfume. He makes a mental note to wash it off with a warm shower later.

When Kyungsoo comes back inside, Jongin is sitting on the edge of his bed, already fully dressed and nonchalant. He's looking at the picture frame on his bedside table.

“I think you should probably go—“

“Who's this?” Jongin asks as if it was their first conversation for the night as he points at the person Kyungsoo was with in the photo.

“That—she's... going to visit me tonight,” Kyungsoo says and he doesn't know why he sounded so hesitant.

Jongin goes silent. He puts the photo frame back onto Kyungsoo's bedside table and just stares at it.

Kyungsoo eventually leads him to the main door. They don't talk. They don't say good bye, but something inside Kyungsoo's conscience snaps when he sees Jongin tug on his worn-out pair of shoes.

He opts for an excuse, “It was just the brandy, Jongin.” But it only messes him up more when he recalls that the bottle wasn't even half-full.

“Sure.” Jongin smiles at him before casually stepping out of the doorway. He turns to look at Kyungsoo.

Their gazes lock, and Kyungsoo fights the need to grab Jongin by the collar of his shirt and punch him words that will make him stop and stay because this certainly feels like one of those moments before Jongin disappears again, but he doesn't. He has no right to. It's not like they're in a relationship anyway.

“When can I see you again?” Jongin asks, shoving both hands into his pockets.

“You've never asked me that before—but I'm free on Sundays.”

Jongin only chuckles a bit before leaving, “You're doing good, Hyung.”

He doesn't slam the door.

–

Kyungsoo wakes up and the digital clock on his bedside is blinking twenty-two. His head is throbbing.

There's a knock on the door and he quickly walks towards the entrance. He doesn't miss the unfamiliar divide between his shoes Jongin's worn-out pair used to fill.

Kyungsoo opens the door and sees her. “Hi,” A kiss on his cheek. “Are you okay? You look like you've slept too much.”

–

Kyungsoo gets off the cab a few blocks away from his office and starts walking. The day is just about to start for him and he finds it fitting to begin with a short walk beneath the trees and the lamp posts on the sidewalk towards his office. It's still mid-October but the wind is already blowing cold, occasionally drawing in leaves from trees which fall and taint the pavement brown.

“Is my Rolex broken or are you really running late?” a voice greets him from behind.

He turns to see Baekhyun fiddling with his wrist watch with a confused look on his face, one good enough to please any high school drama club. “That watch of yours looks too heavy. I'm surprised your little wrist, not to mention your salary, can carry it,” he says before turning his head back to the ground and speeding his pace up because Baekhyun's watch isn't broken. He is running late.

“Hey, just to remind you, we're business partners. We kind of have the same salary.”

“That still doesn't change the fact that I could fire you right now,” Kyungsoo quips before turning the corner.

Baekhyun catches up to him until they're walking side by side. “You won't, though.”

Not wanting to know if what Baekhyun said is true or not, Kyungsoo chooses to ignore him—just like how he always does when Baekhyun decides to say something that involves his self-proclaimed deep understanding of 'Do Kyungsoo's personality'—but it's not because he thinks Baekhyun is wrong. He's just afraid that if he says more, Baekhyun might use his words against him.

“Oh. I see a valid reason for you to be late,” Baekhyun teases, placing a finger on top of the distracting red mark on Kyungsoo's neck.

Kyungsoo slaps Baekhyun's hand away and tries to cover the blossoming tinge of pink across his cheeks before they reach the company's entrance.

The wind bites his skin as he enters the glass doors; it's as if he's walking through an airlock. His scarf suddenly feels too tight around his neck and he readjusts it to cover the marks on his skin when Baekhyun turns to greet Chanyeol, the company's teeth-rich receptionist. Kyungsoo remembers almost firing said guy for creeping out a couple of prospective investors, if only Baekhyun hadn't said that he'd take care of it himself. But Kyungsoo is nonetheless satisfied with how Chanyeol had started to smile less after Baekhyun's visit.

“Are they from those luscious red lips?” Baekhyun asks after dismissing Chanyeol with a hand gesture Kyungsoo thinks holds more meaning than a simple 'see you later'.

“No. I... ended it with her yesterday.”

Baekhyun stops in his tracks and widens his eyes towards Kyungsoo who continues to walk towards his own work area. “What?”

He quickly grabs hold of Kyungsoo's arm when he doesn't receive any answer and stops him. “Then who are those from? Please tell me they're from some random chick at a bar.”

“Baekhyun, he came back,” Kyungsoo says. He watches how Baekhyun's eyes widen even more. By the time he feels Baekhyun's grip on his arm loosen and sees the incredulous look on his friend's face, he knows that Baekhyun finally understood.

Baekhyun lets go of his arm, stunned. ”N-No. Not this again, Kyungsoo. I thought you already forgot about him—You have to forget about him.”

And Baekhyun wants to know why Kyungsoo just stands there and stares at him with narrowed eyes, looking like he didn't understand a word he just said.

–

“This way, monsieur,” the man, all smiles, tells Kyungsoo as soon as the tip of his fountain pen leaves the list.

Kyungsoo finds himself escorted through the wooden doors, a gloved hand latched firmly on his arm. He's only left alone when he tells the man he can manage on his own.

He starts looking around the expanse of white-clothed round tables before him, eyes glancing past the absurd amount of artificial plants, light fixtures, and Roman paintings lined up against the walls. He finds her in the middle of the room, on the table below the massive chandelier, spinning the glass of La Mondotte in her hand around in small circles, her red lips pressed into a thin line.

Kyungsoo walks up to her, and he's greeted by a whisper: “Tell me why.”

That night, Kyungsoo drives home, tired. His tie is wet and smells too much of spilled wine, and her words are echoing clearly in his mind: “You’re insane!” They don't go away even when he starts pounding the car horn to the sound of the impending traffic.

When he arrives home, he changes into his pajamas, brushes his teeth, and pushes a pill down his throat.

–

Kyungsoo wakes up minutes before his usual seven o' clock alarm, but he doesn't get off of bed. Instead, he spends the excess minutes contemplating how he managed to wake up earlier than the set time in his daily routine, considering that he swallowed a sleeping pill the night before.

He eventually thinks about the past days—the fancy French restaurant, the alcohol, the woman, smudged eye make-up, and Jongin. The memories blur together when he tries squeezing his eyes shut, Jongin's face ending up as the watermark, and he opens his eyes as soon as Jongin's smile started to feel too real—too warm.

With three minutes left,he concludes that maybe his body has grown immune to the sedative he takes. He needs a bigger dose.

Kyungsoo turns the alarm off a minute before five-thirty.

Sunlight greets his eyes when he opens the blinds and he winces slightly, before promptly heading to the wardrobe, throwing a prepared set of work clothes onto his bed, and heading to fetch a towel from the dryer. His movements are based on a practiced routine until he hears a hissing sound, something he doesn't recall hearing in any of his mornings. He thinks that maybe his neighbor is getting a flat tire, that maybe it's their cat, or maybe there's a snake in his garden, but then there's the sound of metallic utensils against ceramic plates and the smell of burnt breakfast.

Kyungsoo shuffles out to the kitchen and, of course, he's greeted by the scene of Jongin cooking. He forgot to change the lock again, after all.

Jongin only becomes aware of Kyungsoo's presence when he turns around, face immediately lightening up.

“Morning,” Jongin says as he tosses perfectly burnt eggs and toast on a plate Kyungsoo conceives as his. “You're up early?”

“I have work,” Kyungsoo says, reluctantly taking a seat as he looks down at the dining table. He's not used to seeing Jongin's cooking on his plates anymore.

Jongin frowns at him before he makes his way towards the coffee mixer. “On a Sunday?”

“Sunday?” Kyungsoo furrows his brows. He picks up the newspaper on the table and searches for the date above the headlines: 'October 19, 2014, Sunday'. Apparently, he forgot to turn his alarm off yesterday. “Oh. No, I don't.”

“That's great then. Even though I knew since I asked Baekhyun hyung for your schedule—and I—“ Jongin laughs slightly, putting a hand over his nape. “I brought movies,” he says.

And Kyungsoo stops reading the newspaper to look up at Jongin, surprised. Jongin had never been one to initiate, let alone be the kind to ask Baekhyun if he would be free for the day. It had always been him who pushed harder, gave more.

“Well?” Jongin asks as he places a cup of coffee in front of Kyungsoo and takes a seat for himself.

“I think that's great. Yes,” Kyungsoo says with a nod. He takes a cautious sip of the coffee Jongin had given him and he almost spits the liquid out when bitterness touches his tongue. The coffee is burnt.

And Kyungsoo tries not to smile because even though Jongin only cooks burnt food and that he may need to teach him how to properly use the toaster in the future, he thinks that he will definitely get used to this. He'll definitely get used to having breakfasts together with Jongin again.

--

They end up watching another episode of their favorite cartoon after seeing that Jongin brought movies both of them have already watched by themselves, some time in the past months when Jongin was gone.

They're both on the floor, backs against the leather of Kyungsoo's couch. The TV volume is set low—too low that Kyungsoo thinks Jongin might have unconsciously pushed the 'mute' button on the remote—and their bodies are close enough for Kyungsoo to hear Jongin's uneven breathing. The violent coyote fails again and Kyungsoo doesn't miss the hitch in Jongin's laughter.

It makes him look at Jongin again, makes him scrutinize how the latter's face looks when laughing, and he starts wondering about what could Jongin have possibly went through in the months he was gone that it earned him a face that doesn't exactly fit his age.

Jongin is laughing too much, Kyungsoo can see tears forming in his eyes. His laughter is too breathy; it almost sounds forced. Then, Jongin starts coughing loudly, voice crackling against his throat, and Kyungsoo watches how Jongin tries to muffle his mouth with his hand.

“Jongin, are you okay?”

Jongin just nods repeatedly, still coughing. He only stops after Kyungsoo starts patting him on the back. Then he straightens, wipes off the lone tear on his cheek. “Yeah, I'm okay. My throat just got itchy because of the popcorn, is all.”

“Do you want me to get some water?” Kyungsoo says, ignoring the fact that he hadn't seen Jongin dip his hand into the bowl of popcorn since they started watching the cartoon. He stands up.

“No. No. I'm okay, really. Let's just continue watching.” Jongin pulls him back by the wrist.

And Kyungsoo settles closer to Jongin, still contemplating if he should get water despite Jongin's insistence, but then Jongin places a hand over his. It makes him start wondering if it was more than an act of reassurance.

Kyungsoo starts wondering about a lot of things. His mind wanders to memories he had months ago, memories he had with Jongin. He thinks about wanting to know the real reason why Jongin came back after that night in the convenience store where Jongin, with tears running down his eyes and knuckles turning bloodless, had told him to forget about them, to forget about him. He wants to know why Jongin left that night without giving him a reason; a reason he wouldn't have known if Baekhyun hadn't offered him company and gotten drunk first.

But more importantly, Kyungsoo wants to know why on that night in the convenience store, he couldn't run after Jongin's retreating back.

----

“Can't we watch another show?” Kyungsoo whines when he sees the ending credits roll to an end and hears the cartoon's theme song begin again for the fifth time. “I know it's Sunday and there's probably nothing good to watch on TV, but please, Jongin, I think I've watched enough cartoon violence to actually hurt you if you wont stop watching that.”

At that Jongin laughs, amused. And then Kyungsoo finds the TV turned off and Jongin looking at him, instead.

He looks at Jongin in the eye and asks him why.

And it clearly takes Jongin off-guard, judging from the way he pauses, eyebrows raised in astonishment. Then, he grins again, “I figured we had some catching up to do after that night. I didn't know you were already seeing someone.”

Kyungsoo blinks. “Oh. About that actually—”

“I thought about it, hyung,” Jongin cuts him off, voice turning steely all of a sudden. “And I think it would be great if you'd get married soon. It would be good for you.”

Kyungsoo stares at Jongin. It takes a while before Jongin's words start to make sense, and when it finally does, Kyungsoo could only wish he heard wrong. He opens his mouth and tries to find the right words to say, but he's starting to feel the inside of his eyelids burning, and the only word he can think of is: “What?”

“It would make you forget about me. Maybe not completely, but it will help,” Jongin says, his eyes never leaving Kyungsoo's.

“Oh.” Kyungsoo smiles weakly. His shoulders fall and his breathing turns into small whimpers because the answer he's been looking for is now within his reach. He just has to ask Jongin, to clarify. “So... is this why you came back?”

Jongin nods, and it's certainly not the answer he wanted. He feels his self crumble, pictures of him and Jongin, shared breakfasts, and lazy Sunday afternoons start flying away from his grasp like a kite, its thin string cut off by the strong wind.

It all comes back to him, that night at the convenience store. The reason why he couldn't chase after Jongin could be that he was too shaken. One moment he was just sitting at a table, hands idly tapping to the beat coming from the store's speakers while waiting for Jongin, then, he finds himself standing, hands balled into fists by his sides, asking why he couldn't hear anything but the sound of his heart beating in sync with every step Jongin was taking away from him.

He remembers it too vividly—the way his nails dug crescents onto his palms and the way his mouth dried with the question he had failed to ask. “Forget you,” Kyungsoo starts, fighting the growing lump in his throat. He doesn't want Jongin to leave him tossing and turning at nights, feeling uncertain, again. He doesn't want Jongin to leave him again. “Why do you want me to forget you so badly, Jongin?”

Jongin doesn't answer, just keeps his head low; not wanting to see the look on Kyungsoo's face.

Kyungsoo smiles bitterly to himself, lifting his head slightly to sustain the tears that are threatening to fall from his eyes, because after months of disappearance, he thought—he hoped—that the reason why Jongin came back was to set things right between them again, like he always used to. He thought Jongin would finally stop pushing him away. “You... want me to forget about us, like it never happened. Like half of my ing life didn't matter—” Kyungsoo's voice breaks, continues on a higher pitch, “—Do you think it's that easy, Jongin?”

“Hyung, no. You don't understand—”

“No!” Kyungsoo stands up, looks down at Jongin, and shouts, “I know you're ill!”

Silence. Jongin looks up at him, his expression, unreadable.

Kyungsoo inhales deeply and tries to calm himself down. His voice drops an octave when he opens his mouth again. “I know you're ill. Baekhyun told me.”

“He did, huh? What did he tell you?”

Jongin's eyes are narrowed and Kyungsoo tries his best not to look away but fails. He remembers the weight of Baekhyun's arm around his neck, the smell of alcohol in his mouth. “H-He told me that you were suffering from a lung problem—but,”Kyungsoo stares back into Jongin's eyes, “Why would you try so hard to push me away just because of that? For 's sake, Jongin, I can pay any hospital to get you—”

“—treated? I've already stopped smoking, hyung.” Jongin sneers.

Kyungsoo sees the coat of unshed tears glazing Jongin's eyes. He suddenly feels afraid to ask. “What... do you mean?”

“I've already stopped smoking, hyung,” Jongin's voice is trembling. He looks at Kyungsoo and smiles weakly. “but I—I'm still dying.” He places his head between his legs and cries, “I don't know why I'm still dying, hyung—Kyungsoo—I... I don't know.”

Kyungsoo lets himself drop onto the couch. “Wait—What? No. You're joking right?”

Jongin says no and Kyungsoo can feel his tears start falling one by one. His voice sounds too fragile and it's as if he's begging when he asks, voice cracking, “Jongin, it's just a lung problem, right?”

Jongin desperately shakes his head, whimpering. The next thing he knows is that Kyungsoo's arms are wrapped around his trembling shoulders, and he smells too much of faded detergent. He smells like home. And for the first time in months, Jongin lets himself break.

“I-I'm sorry hyung. I'm so sorry,” he says, voice muffled against the crook of Kyungsoo's neck.

Kyungsoo can't let out a single word.

---

They spend the remaining hours watching the movies Jongin brought. Silence turns into something comforting yet at the same time suffocating, only broken by the occasional sniffling and the clearing of a throat. Kyungsoo can hear the way Jongin wheezes, each breath making him more restless by the minute.

Jongin doesn't finish his food again, and Kyungsoo wants to know why. “What's it called?”

He doesn't receive an answer.

They're already on Kyungsoo's bed by the time the sun sets. Jongin is tired, he says so as he climbs onto the bed. But just before he falls asleep he mutters an answer against the sheets, “It's COPD, hyung.”

Kyungsoo pretends not to hear and leaves him to rest. He comes back after finishing a bundle of paperwork and emptying a carton of grape juice while listening to the late-night news; the reporter's voice is a silent murmuring amidst the sound of his own thoughts.

Jongin hasn't left his spot on his bed. He's curled up in a fetal position, and his blanket is only covering half of his body.

Kyungsoo pulls it over until it covers Jongin's shoulders, and he catches a glimpse of Jongin's face under the moonlight. There are tears that haven't dried on their own, and Kyungsoo wipes them off, running a thumb over Jongin's eyes and cheeks, before popping two sleeping pills into his mouth and tucking himself beside the younger. He wraps an arm around Jongin's waist and nuzzles his nose onto the younger's head, careful not to wake him up. Jongin's hair is damp, but his warmth is nostalgic. Kyungsoo isn't supposed to, but he smiles before sleeping because at least, Jongin didn't push him away.

-----

Kyungsoo wakes up to an empty bed and immediately catches the note on his bedside. Jongin is nowhere to be seen.

“I'm sorry hyung, but my mind hasn't changed. You deserve better. - J”

He quickly reaches for his phone, types in the string of numbers buried deep within the furthest recesses of his mind, and calls Jongin.

There's a beep and a woman's voice, “You have reached a number that is no longer in service. Please check the number and try your call again. Thank you.”

Jongin pushed him away again.

Kyungsoo wakes up.