I haven’t done you any good

          Junhyung tugs him into the next conference room before Hyunseung has a chance to react. He doesn’t give the other man a chance to think—a chance to comprehend what to do, a chance to do anything, not even a chance to breathe because if Hyunseung has any time to do anything more than breathe, Junhyung might lose him. Junhyung might lose him because Hyunseung might run—might decide that this is finally enough, that this is the last straw, that Junhyung is going to be angry so the older man will just run off while he’s at it anyway.

          Junhyung can’t let that happen.

          He has to let Hyunseung know that it doesn’t matter. It mattered before, but it doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter how many other people Hyunseung wants to sleep with, does sleep with, will sleep with, because Junhyung doesn’t care—he’s not allowed to care because no matter how much just this one time is already killing Junhyung, it’ll never be enough to make up for what Junhyung puts Hyunseung through every day.

          And Junhyung knows that.

I hate myself for that—I’m sorry

          He closes the door behind him softly, clicking the lock, and then looking up at the other man. Hyunseung has walked all the way into the conference room, all the way out into the middle, slender hands running over the leather tops of the chairs, shoes padding quietly against the carpet. The older man looks calm, looks unaffected, but Junhyung sees the little hints—sees how Hyunseung’s cheeks still have a taints of pink, sees how Hyunseung’s breath is puffing out just slightly faster than normal, sees how Hyunseung has that infinitesimal limp in his step.

          He sees it, and it hurts.

          It hurts and even though Junhyung knows that’s bull, even though he knows that he can’t blame Doojoon, that he can’t blame Hyunseung, that he can’t blame anyone—even though he knows that, it still hurts. It hurts and he hates how much it hurts. It hurts and he’s angry. He’s angry, he’s furious, he’s irritated and pissed off because even though he knows—he ing knows—even though he knows that it’s bull, all that’s going through his mind right now, all he can remember, all he can think about is the promise Hyunseung made to him.

          The promise that Hyunseung made to him because he told Junhyung that he was different—that he would stay no matter what—that he would stay even if he knows that Junhyung can’t give him what Hyunseung deserves.

Whatever it is—just say it

          “Don’t be mad at Doojoonie,” Hyunseung says quietly when they finally look at each other—Junhyung leaning against the locked door and Hyunseung standing near the windows.

          Junhyung folds his arms over his chest. “I’m not—I know. I’m not.”

          “Are you mad at me, then?” Hyunseung asks tonelessly, and Junhyung hates that expression on the other man. He hates how it’s beyond everything—beyond anger, beyond sadness, beyond regret, beyond coldness and pain and hurt. He hates how it’s beyond everything that he wants Hyunseung to be feeling right now because Junhyung can’t be the only one feeling like this. He can’t. He needs Hyunseung to be feeling something other than resignation.

          Resignation is the worst. It’s always the worst.

          Because it means that Hyunseung doesn’t even think Junhyung is worth being hurt over anymore.

From now on, don’t believe a single word I say

          Junhyung straightens up off of the door. “What if I said yes?” he whispers, just loud enough so Hyunseung can make out his voice from across the room. He starts to walk, one foot in front of the other and pain with every step he takes. “What if I said that I don’t care how much I hurt you because you knew I would—I told you I would—and you said you’d stay with me no matter what anyway?”

          Hyunseung merely looks back at him, eyes tired—eyes terribly worn out and dark and shadowed and in the lights of the conference room, they look wearier than anything Junhyung’s remembered seeing in the past few days. But then again, Junhyung hasn’t seen much of Hyunseung in the past few days because his father’s introduced him to yet another new girl and whenever that happens, he has to play up the relationship with her and play down the relationship with Hyunseung.

          When Junhyung reaches him, when there aren’t even inches between the toes of their shoes, he takes Hyunseung’s hands tentatively. “You said you would stay,” he says, pleadingly and desperately and frustrated because what’s in his hands right now—what’s in his hands right now needs to stay in his hands forever no matter what. “You said you’d stay no matter how much it hurt.”

          Hyunseung swallows, jaw tightening. “Does it hurt you?” he asks in a soft voice, gaze boring into Junhyung. “Me sleeping with Doojoon—does it hurt?”

          Junhyung’s eyes fall to the floor—flicker to the sides—he even looks to the ceiling—looks everywhere before he looks back at Hyunseung. “Yeah,” he answers, his throat suddenly sore and aching. “It hurts.”

Don’t forget that no matter what I do

          “Good,” Hyunseung whispers.

In my head, there are only thoughts of you

          They have in this conference room.

          It’s ruthless, it’s cruel, it’s needy and furious and it’s every man for himself because both of them are too angry to care. Both of them are too angry, too hurt, to much in pain, to care about anything except themselves right now so it’s not even —it’s ing and neither of them care how much they’re hurting the other whether physically or emotionally or mentally. They just . They and it’s ruthless, it’s cruel, it’s needy and furious and neither of them care.

          Junhyung doesn’t care—he bangs Hyunseung into walls, slams him and pins him down onto the conference table, kisses him until teeth dig into lips, until tongues suffocate and choke, until fingers bruise into pale hipbones, until Hyunseung isn’t or sighing anymore—until Hyunseung has to bite his own arm to keep in the screams and cries—until Hyunseung’s eyes are wet from pain, from shock, from surprise.

          He regrets it.

          He regrets everything he’s doing right now, regrets it as he’s doing it, but even then, he can’t stop. Hyunseung doesn’t stop him—lashes back at Junhyung with every bit of force that Junhyung gives out. He claws at Junhyung’s back, digs nails into Junhyung’s skin, wraps his legs around Junhyung’s waist so tightly that the younger man feels like his ribs are breaking, kisses Junhyung until he can’t breathe, snakes his arms around Junhyung’s neck tight enough to gag.

          It hurts.

          More than anything, it hurts because Junhyung knows he deserves all of this. He knows that Hyunseung isn’t to be blamed even if he slept with half of Seoul behind Junhyung’s back because Junhyung is doing something infinitely worse and he knows it. He knows it, but right now he’s too furious to care because all that’s in his mind is how Hyunseung smells like Doojoon. All he can see are marks on Hyunseung’s body left by Doojoon. All he can feel is skin that’s already been warmed and touched by Doojoon.

          It hurts.

          It hurts so much.

          Physically, even though Hyunseung hurts Junhyung back—Junhyung still hurts Hyunseung more and he doesn’t even care. Right now, even though he’s regretting every second of it, he doesn’t even care. Hyunseung’s face is wet, not with perspiration—wet, wet, wet as Junhyung s into him without listening, without feeling, without caring or paying attention to anything except what he himself needs, what he himself can never let go of because it would hurt too much to even think about it.

          He’s thinking about it right now after all.

          And it hurts—unbearably, undeniably, unstoppably.

The only place you need to be at right now is here

          Junhyung texts Dongwoon and tells him to do his best and diffuse the situation—tells the maknae to talk to Doojoon about sending Junhyung’s girlfriend home, along with his parents and everyone else, and says that Junhyung can’t come out of the conference room until everyone has left. He tells Dongwoon to go home too—to tell Doojoon to go home because when Junhyung means everyone, he ing means everyone has to go home.

          He texts Dongwoon and tells him that he’ll explain later.

          He can’t text Doojoon. Not right now.

          It’ll take a few hours, he knows, for everyone to leave and be convinced by whatever excuse Doojoon and Dongwoon come up with. It’ll take a few hours, so Junhyung uses that time to clean up—to clean himself up first, only bothering with the necessary clothes, just his pants and his shirt, because the party will be over by the time he gets out of here anyway. He cleans up the conference room—cleans up the chairs and papers and books they knocked over.

          Junhyung doesn’t know if he’ll be able to clean Hyunseung up—doesn’t know if he’ll be able to look at the older man without shaking or breaking down. He doesn’t know if he should even touch him—if he’s even allowed anymore to touch the pale, limp body still lying motionless on the conference room table, shoulders trembling harshly with breathing that still hasn’t evened out yet.

Sadly, I don’t want to cry sadly

          He hoists himself up onto the conference table, keeping at least a foot of space in between him and Hyunseung. Junhyung doesn’t move—just sits there—he doesn’t move an inch until Hyunseung does. He waits until Hyunseung turns around first. He waits, wordless, while Hyunseung lies on his side, facing Junhyung. He glances down when he senses the other man moving, when he feels the other man searching to meet gazes.

          Hyunseung is looking up at him with dry eyes, clean of tears—he’s looking up at Junhyung with a hand outstretched towards the younger man’s arm. Hyunseung’s fingers lightly touch his sleeve. “Shouldn’t you be seeing your parents off?” he whispers. “Taking your girlfriend home?”

          Junhyung catches Hyunseung’s reaching hand, taking it into his own and intertwining their fingers together. He uses his free hand to sweep back Hyunseung’s damp bangs—damp with perspiration, maybe even with leftover tears. “ them,” he says weakly.

          Hyunseung’s expression doesn’t change—doesn’t even quiver at that, and Junhyung knows that Hyunseung knows perfectly well that even though Junhyung is saying this now, it’s not going to mean anything in the morning. He knows that Hyunseung knows in the morning, everything will go on as normal and Junhyung cursing this girl and his parents is the worst that he’ll ever do to them.

          They both know that it’s all useless—meaningless.

Even if you feel like letting go

          Junhyung drives Hyunseung home using the older man’s car, ignoring Hyunseung completely when he starts asking about how Junhyung will get back to his own home. He carries him into the apartment, into his bedroom, kisses him once and then leaves.

          He spends the rest of the night walking back to his own apartment.

It isn’t working—it isn’t working as I planned

          Doojoon books a flight just a week later.

          Junhyung drops him off at the airport after work. He’s spoken to neither Hyunseung nor Doojoon in the past week. He hasn’t spoken to them and they haven’t spoken to him. It’s just Dongwoon, caught in the middle, ferrying back and forth between his hyungs. Hyuna isn’t speaking to Junhyung either—she acknowledges him, does as she needs to do, does as he tells her, but other than that, she doesn’t speak to him, doesn’t look at him.

          But today, Junhyung offers to take Doojoon to the airport. The car ride is silent, and when they get there, he helps with the suitcases, gets a trolley to put the luggage on, wordlessly holding Doojoon’s passport and ticket for him while he rearranges the tags on his bags.

          “Hey,” Doojoon says softly, while Junhyung is bent over trying to fix a loose zipper on one of the suitcases. “I’m sorry.”

          Junhyung dusts his hands off on his pants and straightens up, taking a deep breath, and shaking his head. “What for?”

          Doojoon looks down, before looking back up at Junhyung’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says again, slightly louder.

          Junhyung steps forward, punching Doojoon’s arm lightly. His mouth tugs up into a tiny, partial smile. “What for?”

          Doojoon’s eyes stretch, and his lips part infinitesimally in surprise.

          But Junhyung wraps his arms around him before he has time to say anything else—wraps his arms around Doojoon and holds him close, chin against the other man’s shoulder and not letting go until he feels Doojoon’s arms grip him back. They stay like that, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the airport, families bidding each other goodbye, newlyweds about to embark on their honeymoon, students returning home and some leaving home. They stay like that for a while, just in each other’s arms.

          “Who the ’s going to hit on hot sunbaes with me?” Junhyung asks into Doojoon’s shoulder.

          “Who the ’s going to book me taxis when I can’t get to the station?” Doojoon says back, his voice muffled against Junhyung’s own shoulder.

          When they finally pull apart, Junhyung tries to blink away whatever’s blurring his vision at the moment, and tries not to notice how Doojoon is blinking furiously, too. “Make sure Dongwoon doesn’t go bankrupt or anything,” Doojoon says, his voice thick and slightly shaky even as he grins. “And try not to get mauled by Hyuna.”

          “Make sure Yoseobie hasn’t eaten his weight in French cake,” Junhyung says, smiling back. “And don’t embarrass Korea.”

          Doojoon rolls his eyes, snorting. It’s his turn to punch Junhyung on the arm. His eyes soften a bit then, and his expression becomes uncertain. Junhyung almost wants to look away because he knows where this is going now. “He loves you a lot,” Doojoon says gently. “He’s hurting a lot, too—and he doesn’t even care. He doesn’t even notice how much he’s being hurt.”

Because of my stupid pride

          Junhyung’s nails dig into his palms. “I know,” he says quietly, looking Doojoon straight in the eye. “I know.”

Sorry but I love you—love you

          “Yah!” Hyunseung yells.

He yells, and it bites the silent air—it bites and stings through the darkness of the office. Everyone’s gone home, only a few janitors here and there are left, but the entire building is closing down bit by bit, and only Junhyung and Hyunseung are left because both of them have work left to do—they have work left to do, or maybe both of them just need to overwork themselves in order to stop thinking so much.

          Thinking hurts.

          Hyunseung grabs Junhyung’s wrist, pulling harshly, whirling the other man around, and trapping him in a doorframe.

I have nothing—I can’t make you happy

          “Why won’t you talk to me?” Hyunseung whispers and the amount of pain that’s injected into every syllable grips Junhyung’s heart like an iron fist and squeezes until the red, bleeding flesh starts seeping out between the fingers.

          Junhyung can barely make himself look into Hyunseung’s eyes—beautiful eyes, the most beautiful eyes Junhyung’s ever seen—round and dark and endless, like pools of black liquid, pools that go on forever, filled to the brim with glowing blackness. He remembers how Hyunseung once talked about one of Junhyung’s girlfriends having pretty eyes—he remembers how he had to try his best not to burst out laughing because the fact that Jang Hyunseung is saying someone else’s eyes are pretty is ridiculous amounts of stupid.

          “I don’t think,” Junhyung says with a tiny, sad smile, “right now, I deserve to anymore.”

          Hyunseung’s eyes narrow. “You think,” his voice shakes, “that I give a about what you deserve?” He grips the front of Junhyung’s shirt. “All I give a about is what you want. Do you want to talk to me?”

I can’t be the man you want

          “Of course I do,” Junhyung whispers—he whispers so softly that it’s not even audible, that it’s only mouthed. “But—”

          Hyunseung kisses him.

          It’s so soft, so small, so gentle, barely any pressure—it’s so hesitant that Junhyung doesn’t even know if it can be called a kiss, just a tiny brush of lips against lips, a tiny brush but enough to silence Junhyung, to stop everything that’s self-destructing in his mind, in his chest, in his entire body and being because everything just hurts so much.

          It all hurts so much—

          And Hyunseung—just Hyunseung—Hyunseung makes the hurt disappear.

I’ll send you away—you can leave me

          Junhyung knows.

          He knows that every day they do this, every minute that they’re together is a minute that Hyunseung spends watching Junhyung play perfect puppet for his family. He knows that every second of that minute, Hyunseung is in searing, screaming, white-hot pain that he hides from everyone—that he even hides from Junhyung—that, sometimes Junhyung thinks, he even hides from himself.

          He knows, he suspects, that like Doojoon said, Hyunseung doesn’t even know the extent that he’s hurting. He knows that Hyunseung, being Hyunseung, probably has some sort of delusion, is in some sort of terrible nightmare-like illusion, in which he believes that Junhyung is actually worth going through all of this pain. Hyunseung, being Hyunseung, probably actually believed Junhyung when Junhyung was only speaking nonsense last week in that conference room on that terrible night about how Hyunseung is breaking his promise to Junhyung.

          Hyunseung probably believed that.

I know that I will regret it

          He takes Hyunseung’s face in both of his hands. “You don’t have to honor promises,” Junhyung says softly, wondering how it’s possible for someone to talk when their heart is threatening to flood up their throat and out of their body, “if they’re promises made to bastards.”

But I will let go of you like a fool

          A small smile curves Hyunseung’s lips. “Then I guess I have to honor this one, huh?”

Because you were the only one hurting for such a long time

          “Whenever you want to leave,” Junhyung whispers, right before he kisses that tiny smile, “leave.”

Now be happy without me

          For months, it’s the same.

          They go back to their old routine and they both ignore how much it hurts to do this. They both ignore the little discrepancies that make it obvious how it can never be the way it used to be. Junhyung ignores the way Hyunseung seems to be wasting away, ignores how Hyuna still refuses to speak to him, ignores how she continuously has to beg and plead for Hyunseung to eat, ignores how Dongwoon spends more and more time away from the office—how he rarely ever smiles around them anymore at work, how he’s always going to that club.

          He ignores, when Doojoon and Yoseob return after Yoseob finishes the program, ignores how they look at him and Hyunseung and Dongwoon almost as if they’re shocked—almost as if they blame themselves for leaving because everything became this way while they were gone. He ignores everything and forges on despite all of the shards of ice that pierce his skin as he marches forward.

          When they meet Lee Kikwang, Junhyung thinks that it’s safe to say he isn’t the only one who feels more than terrible for giving Dongwoon so much about wasting his money. He thinks it’s safe to say that Yoseob and Hyunseung and Doojoon are staring into their glasses possibly thinking about how to transfer more money into Dongwoon’s bank account without the maknae knowing. He thinks it’s safe to say that while none of them want to promote ion, they do want to promote that smile on Dongwoon’s face—that stupidly, enormous smile that stretches all over their dongsaeng’s face just because Kikwang laughs at something he said.

          All of them know about Dongwoon’s parents after all. And all of them know that in the last few months, they’ve all been too caught up in their own problems to notice how much it’s hurting Dongwoon. All of them know they’ve been ty hyungs. And Kikwang seems to make Dongwoon so happy that while Junhyung’s watching them through dinner, he almost wants to recheck this club to really make sure if Kikwang’s a e or not because from everything Junhyung’s ever known, es never act like Kikwang does—never act carefree and kind and cheerful and shy and open and polite and sometimes even embarrassed.

          And clients never look as in love as Dongwoon does.

Hurry and go—someone like you doesn’t belong here

          Doojoon and Yoseob leave again—a mere week after they return. They leave, but this time, they leave together. They leave together and they leave with Yoseob joining the company. They leave after hugging Dongwoon at the airport, after Doojoon tells the maknae to make sure Kikwang eats all right, after Yoseob tells Junhyung to stop drinking so much Coke because the younger man swears it’s making him fat and no one wants a fat rich boy. They leave after Doojoon whispers something into Hyunseung’s ear, after Yoseob hugs Hyunseung tight around the waist.

          They leave.

          Junhyung watches the plane take off.

But I love you

          Hyunseung is quieter than ever after Doojoon and Yoseob leave.

          He and Junhyung still go through the same motions, trying to pretend that everything is all right, that nothing’s wrong because neither of them know what else to do. It hurts like ing hell, too ing much, but if they stop, they’ll have to confront everything that they’re trying to run away from and that hurts more—it hurts more and it scares them more.

I am a lacking person to you

          Junhyung doesn’t know what the final straw is.

          He doesn’t know if it was just build-up, if it was the inevitable finally happening, if it was just a random thought that spurred itself in Hyunseung’s mind. He doesn’t know what the final straw is, but he thinks, he suspects, he guesses that it’s probably Dongwoon.

I know it well

          He guesses that it was probably Hyunseung being there, being right there, while Junhyung yells at Dongwoon, takes out all of his frustrations of the day—of his parents trying to set him up with another girl, of the thoughts of having to explain this to Hyunseung again later tonight, of having to look at Hyuna’s face and see the disappointment, the anger, of having to hear Doojoon and Yoseob’s resign—he takes it all out on the maknae. He shouts and yells about how Dongwoon is wasting his money on a lost cause, on how even in the rare case that Kikwang did want to stop working as a e, people would know anyway—they’d know and Dongwoon would never hear the end of it in his career. It might even ruin his career—the potential to be promoted.

          But Dongwoon screams back, bellows and roars back about how that’s bull—that’s utter bull because he doesn’t ing care. He doesn’t ing care about anyone finding out about how he’s spending his money on a because let them—let them know—he doesn’t care because while that may be what Kikwang does, that’s not who Kikwang is and that Junhyung-ing-hyung should just shut the up because he’s only met Kikwang once and he has no idea what Kikwang’s been through and just stop, hyung, stop.

          Junhyung doesn’t stop—he’s tired, he’s ing tired, he hasn’t slept, he can’t think—all he can do is keep going and he does. He continues to plow on, demanding why Dongwoon would do that—asking for reasons, ordering the maknae to answer him because it doesn’t even make the remotest sense to risk everything Dongwoon’s worked for on some random e, regardless of how much Dongwoon cares for him. Even if Dongwoon loves him, it still doesn’t make sense because—

          “Hyung,” Dongwoon says, and suddenly his eyes aren’t on Junhyung—they’re hovering somewhere behind Junhyung, towards the door of Junhyung’s office. “I don’t know if I love him yet,” and his voice is steady—the maknae two years younger than Junhyung has a steady voice and firmly planted feet, his expression determined. “But if I do—if I love him, it doesn’t need to make sense.” He tilts his head to the side, and Junhyung whirls around in that direction.

          Hyunseung is standing at the door.

Even when I give you my all

          “My parents found another girl,” Junhyung tells him quietly after Dongwoon leaves. He’s holding both of Hyunseung’s hands.

          “Oh,” Hyunseung whispers. “Okay.”

          “We—”

          “Need to lay low for a while. I know.”

I’m lacking

          The next day—

          He’s gone.

          Hyunseung is gone.

          No one at the office knows where, Dongwoon has tried calling him and texting him, Hyuna has called Doojoon and Yoseob and they’ve tried contacting him, too. Doojoon’s asked his father but the president is saying that Hyunseung has talked with him in private about this beforehand—that it’s the strictest breach of contract if he tells Doojoon anything that Hyunseung doesn’t want him to know.

          Hyunseung is gone.

Like a fool, I still want you

          They all blame Junhyung.

          And—

          It’s not like they’re wrong.