The view from the living room window is pretty.

          It’s especially pretty in the morning, with the snow covering every inch of the neighborhood and when Hyunseung looks out of the curtains—the early sunlight warming his face through the glass—he can see his own apartment across the streets and around the small corner. Originally, he’d planned to actually sleep at his own apartment, in his own bed, in his own pajamas, but after Junhyung’s request last night (a request that scared Hyunseung less), he was too afraid that Junhyung would wake up before Hyunseung returned.

          Which meant that Hyunseung ended up sleeping at Junhyung’s apartment, on the couch, and borrowing a pair of Junhyung’s pajamas which hopefully the younger man won’t mind all that much when he wakes up. Hyunseung seriously debated (and calculated) on how many seconds minimum it would take him to sprint across the road to change and back and decided against it because sprinting would probably end up with his head cracked open on the icy roads.

          Hyunseung’s cell phone reads a little past nine and considering the late night they had, he supposes it’s good that Junhyung isn’t awake yet. He’s not sure he wants the younger man to be awake just yet anyway—Hyunseung isn’t sure he’s ready to face Junhyung just yet. Not after the shock that last night was. Not after the complete turning around, upside down and every other which way, of what Hyunseung previously thought was the situation at hand.

          Because now Hyunseung definitely knows Junhyung isn’t here from a sense of obligation—and somehow, this makes it even worse.

          Now, Hyunseung wishes that Junhyung was here because of a sense of obligation—he wishes that Junhyung was here for any other reason than the reason that the younger man made clear last night. It’s one thing when Junhyung is in pain, needs Hyunseung’s help, needs Hyunseung to heal him, just because of his parents. If Junhyung came here just partially out of obligation, partially because he wants to reconcile with Hyunseung, and partially because he wants Hyunseung’s advice as a close friend as to how to heal over the scars of coming out to his parents—that would be fine.

          In fact, that would be more than fine—that would be ideal and perfect and wonderful and so much simpler than the reality at hand.

          So, so, so much simpler than having Junhyung here because he still loves Hyunseung.

          It would be so much simpler than having Junhyung here because he still loves Hyunseung despite the fact that Hyunseung left—that Hyunseung broke his promise, that Hyunseung even deluded himself into believing that it was for Junhyung’s own good as well as his own, that Hyunseung hurt Junhyung (that he broke Junhyung’s heart and doesn’t even have the sense of self to put it back together).

          This was never part of the plan.

          The plan was to push Junhyung into coming out (into being free) and then possibly reconciling and going back to being friends and watching from afar (far, far, far away) as Junhyung finds someone who would take care of him infinitely better than Hyunseung had and ever could. The plan definitely wasn’t to have Junhyung come back and looking for a lot more than close friendship—looking for something that they didn’t even dare have the first time around.

          The worst part?

          The fact that all this makes Hyunseung terribly, terribly happy.

          Happier than he has any right to be after what he’s done to Junhyung.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

          Hyunseung watches as Junhyung appears through the doorway of the bedroom, rubbing at his eyes with one hand and ruffling at his hair with the other. He stands stock still, waiting for the younger man to see him—waiting to lock eyes. He waits, and watches as Junhyung is still blearily blinking down at the floor while he walks towards the kitchen, obliviously past the living room. Junhyung is opening the refrigerator slowly, sleepily, when Hyunseung bites his lip and gives a quiet, “Slept okay?”

          The refrigerator door slams shut, completely let go and closing with a loud thump. Junhyung’s hand has let go of it, frozen in mid air before dropping back limply to his side as the younger man turns around and stares in Hyunseung’s directions—all sleep completely wiped from his widened eyes. Junhyung’s eyes are so wide that Hyunseung feels his own narrow a bit because he doesn’t think he’s ever known that the younger man’s eyes can stretch that big.

          It’s almost impressive.

          He supposes that maybe Junhyung is showing off this seemingly new ability of his to prove to Hyunseung that the younger man did sleep all right, more or less. Since Hyunseung knows that when Junhyung gets less than his suggested quota of sleep, the older man has to pry Junhyung’s eyelids open.

          “What’re you doing here?” Junhyung says with something between shock and confusion, his wide eyes beginning to blink rapidly.    

          Hyunseung blinks back—only not as rapidly and not as many times because the only thing Junhyung will achieve by blinking like that is a headache. “You asked me to stay,” Hyunseung says and wonders if being outside in the cold for too long did something to Junhyung’s otherwise probably already mentally fragile state. “Remember?”

          Junhyung’s mouth falls open.

          “I mean,” the younger man stutters, “I—I—what—you—work—what about work?”

          Hyunseung pads forward from the living room, covering the distance between them in brisk strides until he’s right beside Junhyung. He opens the refrigerator and takes out a water bottle, putting it on the counter. “I took the day off,” he says, unscrewing the cap and holding it out to the younger man.

          Junhyung shakes his head.

          Hyunseung frowns and continues to hold the bottle out. “You really should, y’know. You still look kind of sick.” He waves it in front of Junhyung’s face slightly, playfully, and offers a small smile.

          The younger man’s eyes continue to bore into Hyunseung’s face as he takes the bottle from Hyunseung’s hand, almost mechanically. Hyunseung waits while Junhyung takes a few mouthfuls of water before closing the bottle and putting it back onto the counter. His eyes trail up and down Hyunseung’s body then and tips his head to one side, eyebrows furrowing.

          “D’you mind?” Hyunseung asks sheepishly.

          Junhyung shakes his head again, this time as rapidly as he’d blinked. “No—no, it’s fine.” His hands slip into the pockets of his sweatpants and he steps away, steps out of the kitchen and walks into the middle of the apartment—almost back towards the bedroom—his back facing Hyunseung. “When—when’re you headed back?”

          Junhyung’s voice is shaky—imperceptibly shaky, the kind of tremble that’s desperately trying to hide itself and would’ve succeeded except that Hyunseung has heard Junhyung’s voice at all its timbres, in all its different tones, with all its different moods and colors. Hyunseung has heard Junhyung’s voice clipped and brisk during a presentation—he’s heard it annoyed and embarrassed being teased by Yoseob and Dongwoon—he’s heard it playful and warm when joking with Doojoon—

          Hyunseung’s heard it soft and flirting right up against his ear when no one else can see them—he’s heard Junhyung’s voice whisper and murmur and laugh and gentle and teasing and sad and angry and happy and sleepy and confused—he’s heard it every which way possible, and he’s heard it with this imperceptible trembling before as well. He’s heard it before, and that’s why he can recognize it now.

          He doesn’t know how to tell Junhyung that he’s not going anywhere—Hyunseung isn’t going anywhere Junhyung doesn’t want him to (never again, not any more). He’s not sure how to tell Junhyung any of this because he doesn’t think Junhyung will believe him (not after the first time—not after Hyunseung broke their promise). And he’s not sure he wants Junhyung to believe him—it’d be more than Hyunseung deserves.

          “I’ve got time,” Hyunseung says, and offers another tiny smile. “I was thinking of hanging around and making sure you were okay.”

          Junhyung stares.

          Hyunseung raises his eyebrows.

          “I,” Junhyung says blankly, “what?”

          Hyunseung lets his smile widen a little. “Junhyung-ah,” he says playfully, “hungry?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

          Hyunseung has no idea what he’s even doing.

          He’s sent Junhyung into the shower, went back to his own apartment to catch a change of clothes and a shower of his own, ran back to Junhyung’s apartment in time to see the younger man finished and waiting. He still has no idea where any of this is supposed to go as he ushers Junhyung into a coat and down flights of stairs that head out to the streets. His brain is forcing its gears to turn at maximum speed as Junhyung continues to ask Hyunseung questions about where they’re even going and Hyunseung can only shrug and continue to lead the other man hopefully towards somewhere with food.

          He has no idea what he’s doing, but he does know what he should be doing.

          He should be sending Junhyung back to Korea.

          Hyunseung didn’t leave for Japan hoping that Junhyung would come out and run after the older man. He left for Japan hoping that Junhyung would come out for himself and find someone new to love—find someone who would keep his promises and do for Junhyung what Hyunseung was too weak to. He left for Japan because it hurt too much to stay by Junhyung’s side while watching the rotating stream of girls at Junhyung’s other side—because it hurt too much to see the light in Junhyung’s eyes dim day by day.

          Junhyung coming after Hyunseung was never part of the plan. The plan was supposed to end with the link that Dongwoon sent Hyunseung. The plan wasn’t supposed to include any of this—Hyunseung thought that the plan ended weeks upon weeks ago, meaning that now Hyunseung has no plan whatsoever with absolutely no time to make a new plan and even if he did he’s not quite sure—

          “D’you think L.A. or New York is nicer in the spring?” Junhyung asks as they reach the end of a block.

          Hyunseung glances at him, mildly surprised at the abruptness of both the timing and the context. “I don’t know,” he says, eyebrows furrowing. “Why?”

          Junhyung smiles faintly, taking his eyes away from Hyunseung and facing forward as they cross the street. Their breaths puff visibly in front of them. “Doojoonie says he’s going to propose to Yoseobie. And he told me to look up places in the States that are nice in the spring.”

          Hyunseung stops walking.

          Junhyung looks back—just a few steps away. “What?”

          Hyunseung shakes his head, moving forward again and re-matching his pace with Junhyung’s. He feels a broad smile warming against his face as he thinks about Doojoon and Yoseob (how long has it been since he’s seen them? Talked to them?). The news itself isn’t surprising at all, really—but Hyunseung is surprised by it all the same. He’s surprised and he’s glad (happy—he’s happy for them—he misses them). “Nothing,” he says lightly. He tips his face upward towards the sky—he wonders if it’s going to snow again tonight. “How’s Doojoonie going to propose?” he asks, glancing—

          Hyunseung blinks.

          Junhyung blinks back.

          “What?” the younger man says blankly.

          “You were staring at me,” Hyunseung says back, just as blankly—he forgot his question now.

          Junhyung opens his mouth, blinking again—more rapidly this time, as if there’s something in his eye. “Sorry,” Junhyung says hastily and turns away. The younger man stares straight ahead as he goes on and says thoughtfully, “and I don’t know how he’s going to propose.”

          Hyunseung snorts, grinning. “I bet Yoseobie’s going to hit him—however Doojoonie does it.” He looks over at the other man, nudging Junhyung’s arm with his own.

          The younger man rolls his eyes with a tiny smile. “What—you actually want to bet, Jang Hyunseung? You’re just trying to get money out of me—Yoseobie always hits Doojoonie.”

          “You’re right,” Hyunseung says playfully. “We should’ve bet on that snowball fight last night. I ing owned your , Yong Junhyung.” He sidesteps to bump teasingly into Junhyung’s side again, but the moment he gets close—once Hyunseung is near enough to Junhyung—near enough to close the space between them—

          He watches as Junhyung’s arm (the younger man’s hands are tucked into his pockets) jerks. He watches as Junhyung’s body almost half-turns, as if to catch Hyunseung (catch Hyunseung into the younger man’s arms?) only to stop himself—to pull away, to sidestep in the opposite direction so that there’s no contact between them—so that they aren’t as close walking side-by-side any more.

          Junhyung meets Hyunseung’s comment with a smile again.

          But this time—it doesn’t reach his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

          The fact that Hyunseung was there when Junhyung woke up is more than the younger man ever deserves.

          Junhyung almost wishes that Hyunseung wasn’t there—it would be so much easier.

 

 

 

 

 

          It happens before he can stop himself.

          It happens because Hyunseung bumped into him once, and the second time, Junhyung can see it coming—he anticipates it, and it’s reflex. For Junhyung, by now, it’s complete and utter reflex (built into him—conditioned into him) to always stretch his arms out whenever Hyunseung is headed towards him because that’s what Junhyung’s always done. Junhyung always wants to catch (always has to catch) the older man because that’s just where Hyunseung belongs.

          Hyunseung belongs in Junhyung’s arms.

          But it’s probably not where Hyunseung wants to be anymore.

          And it’s not like Junhyung has the right to anymore either.

          So he holds himself—he restrains himself as fast as he can (because he doesn’t want to ruin this—doesn’t want to chase Hyunseung away again—wants anything Hyunseung is willing to give him because this is already more than Junhyung deserves). He grips the insides of his pockets more tightly and distances himself from Hyunseung as they walk together—puts a few more inches between them—as far as the sidewalk will let him b—

          He—

         

          Hyunseung—

          Junhyung stares.

          Hyunseung smiles hesitantly (fragilely) back—Hyunseung has slipped his hand into Junhyung’s pocket, taking Junhyung’s own hand out and intertwining his gloved fingers with Junhyung’s bare ones.

          Junhyung stares.

          He stares.

          He doesn’t think he can stop staring—it’s all he can do to keep breathing and walking.

          “You should’ve brought gloves,” Hyunseung says in a small voice as they reach a street corner.

          Junhyung wants to tell Hyunseung that he did—that he packed gloves because Hyuna made him, and that they’re back at his apartment. He wants to tell Hyunseung that if Junhyung remembers correctly, the gloves should be lying in one of the drawers—possibly the same one that holds his socks. He wants to tell Hyunseung, but his voice no longer exists.

          Personally, he thinks he’s lucky that he’s even conscious right now because Junhyung thinks he just had a heart attack—he honestly believes he has just had a heart attack. Right now. Right as Hyunseung joined their hands together.

          His chest hurts.

          (Junhyung doesn’t deserve this—doesn’t even deserve to hope—whatever he does deserve, he only deserves after months and months, possibly years upon years, of apologizing to Hyunseung—not after mere days)

          His chest hurts—hurts—hurts.

          It’s all Junhyung can do to continue walking—to put one foot in front of the other and look straight ahead (because he knows that if he looks at Hyunseung, Junhyung won’t be able to walk anymore—won’t be able to stand anymore—could potentially break down right there in the middle of the street).

 

 

 

 

 

 

          And even after months upon months, years upon years, even after Junhyung deserves Hyunseung—he still won’t deserve Hyunseung.

          Hyunseung deserves someone who will give him everything.

          Junhyung no longer can.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh whatever anyone

 

 

 

 

 

 

          Hyunseung leads the way into an udon shop.

          He’s still holding Junhyung’s hand and Junhyung’s mind is still numb from shock. It was never un-numbed yet to begin with, still trying to recover from the fact that Hyunseung didn’t immediately leave after patching Junhyung up to the fact that Hyunseung was still at Junhyung’s apartment in the morning. He doesn’t want to hope—doesn’t want to start thinking, start deluding himself into thinking, that Hyunseung might still want him (might still be willing to take him back—doesn’t want to hope about how it might still be okay for Junhyung to love him).

          They sit in a small corner booth (Hyunseung lets go of Junhyung’s hand when they split to sit on opposite sides).

          The menus are taped against the table, and the waitress is already waiting to take their order moments later. Junhyung’s Japanese is rusty, so Hyunseung orders for him and the waitress returns with hot tea and waters after she turns in their order. The entire restaurant is wooden and quaint—obviously old despite being close to downtown Tokyo, close to the more modern districts within the city.

          It reminds Junhyung of the bimbimbap shop he first took Hyunseung to.

          “Do you eat here a lot?” he asks the older man when he thinks he’s at least somewhat sure that his voice isn’t going to break (when he’s sure that sound will come out when he opens his mouth).

          Hyunseung half smiles—he shrugs. “Not super often—but—yeah, kind of, I guess.”

          Junhyung hates how beautiful Hyunseung is (he’s always hated how beautiful Hyunseung has always been—is—will always be). He looks down into his water glass. “You really didn’t have to stay, y’know,” he says quietly, raising his eyes to meet the other man’s hesitantly.

          “Work’s been pretty boring lately,” Hyunseung says, shrugging again. “I can spare a day off or two,” he grins. “They can live without me for twenty-four hours, right?”

          Maybe they can—but Junhyung can’t (he’s been dead for so long, and right now he’s living—right now he’s living after so long—he doesn’t want to die again). He forces himself to smile halfheartedly. “You sure?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anyone says

 

 

 

 

 

 

          Hyunseung looks at him with an odd smile, a little confused. “Of course,” he says. “You’re more important than they are. And you asked me to stay, right?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

It doesn’t matter to me

 

 

 

 

 

 

          Junhyung is glad that the food comes right then—he’s glad that its arrival saves him from having to react, to say anything further, to that because he’s not sure he could do that without breaking down completely—without dropping to his knees right here and now in the restaurant and begging for Hyunseung (begging and crawling and groveling and pleading) to come back—to give him one more chance.

          He doesn’t know how he manages to eat anything at all—doesn’t understand how his mind can even function, can even put two and two together to use chopsticks or take a drink of tea because he’s numb. He’s utterly numb from realizing the fact that he doesn’t deserve Hyunseung in any way possible and yet he’s still here trying to get him back.

          Hyunseung took the day off just because Junhyung asked him too—Hyunseung tells Junhyung that he’s more important than the office—Hyunseung does all of this despite Junhyung having hurt Hyunseung so many times (scarred him permanently in so many ways), and when they had been together, when Hyunseung had given Junhyung everything (when Hyunseung had made Junhyung the happiest he’s ever felt in his entire life), Junhyung couldn’t even give up parents who wouldn’t accept him and materials that someone could buy anywhere.

          His parents only want him for his existence, and everything they gave him were things Junhyung could buy himself with a loan from Doojoon.

          Jang Hyunseung is something—someone—that gave Junhyung the kind of love a person would be lucky to experience even only once in their lifetime. It’s the kind of love that someone only ever gets once (if at all) in a life, and Junhyung ing let it go.

          He’s stupid.

          He’s so stupid and he knows it.

          He’s sorry.

          He’s incredibly sorry and Hyunseung will never forgive him (Junhyung doesn’t deserve to be forgiven anyway).

 

 

 

 

 

 

          Hyunseung hates the look in Junhyung eyes whenever the younger man looks at him.

          He hates how hurt Junhyung looks (Junhyung’s already been hurt enough—by Hyunseung, by the others, by his parents).

          When Junhyung hurts, Hyunseung does too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whoever curses at me

 

 

 

 

 

 

          Hyunseung doesn’t let Junhyung go home after the meal. Junhyung seems to think that Hyunseung is going back to his apartment and Junhyung is supposed to back to his, but Hyunseung doesn’t let that happen. He doesn’t want Junhyung alone in that apartment again, and he doesn’t want Junhyung to look so hurt whenever he looks at Hyunseung. He wants Junhyung to smile—he wants Junhyung to live (because the younger man seems so dead—thin—wasted—sad). Whether it’s with Hyunseung or not, he wants Junhyung to be happy.

          He wants Junhyung to realize that Hyunseung can’t forgive him until Junhyung forgives himself.

          He wants Junhyung to laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll only look at you

 

 

 

 

 

 

          Hyunseung takes Junhyung everywhere.

          He drags Junhyung (confused and asking where the hell are they going because it’s not that he doesn’t trust that Hyunseung knows his way around Tokyo it’s just that in the rare case that Hyunseung doesn’t—which is immensely plausible considering how many times Hyunseung gets lost in Seoul—Junhyung won’t be able to fix it because he doesn’t know his way around Tokyo either) to all the stores Hyunseung’s discovered in his time here. He takes Junhyung to huge commercial malls on main roads, and then leads him around winding back alleys into little hidden shops.

          He brings Junhyung to all these places without letting go of the younger man’s hand. He says things that he knows (remembers how easy—how amazing it feels to make Junhyung’s eyes disappear, to make Junhyung cover his mouth and double over) will make Junhyung laugh and smile. Hyunseung even smiles himself—laughs when Junhyung laughs (because how can he not? Junhyung’s smile is beautiful).

          Hyunseung wants Junhyung to know that the younger man doesn’t have to apologize over and over again—doesn’t have to agonize and punish himself and suffer in order to make Hyunseung happy.

          Hyunseung is happy when Junhyung is.

          That’s all Hyunseung’s ever wanted (ever since the first time he met Junhyung—ever since the first time he spoke to Junhyung—in a sunny, office café where he could see the pain in Junhyung’s eyes all too clearly).

          Sometimes Hyunseung doesn’t think Junhyung understands how much Junhyung’s given Hyunseung—how much he’s done for Hyunseung. Hyunseung thinks that Junhyung hasn’t realized, after all this time together, that if it weren’t for Junhyung, Hyunseung would still be the porcelain doll on the shelf without an owner. If it weren’t for Junhyung, Hyunseung would still hate commitment—would still think that it’s something for other people (for Doojoon and Yoseob—even for Dongwoon and Kikwang, now) and other people exclusively.

          Just because Junhyung wasn’t able to give Hyunseung everything, doesn’t mean that Junhyung didn’t give Hyunseung anything.

          Junhyung loves Hyunseung.

          Hyunseung wishes that Junhyung knew that that’s enough (that Junhyung’s already given up everything, already come clean, already free—there’s nothing left to forgive and the only person angry with Junhyung is Junhyung himself).

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even if I’m born again

 

 

 

 

 

 

          Junhyung stares. “My apartment is this way,” he says, and points.

          “Yeah,” Hyunseung says and bites his lip to stop from laughing at the expression on the younger man’s face (and at how mildly stupid Junhyung looks pointing—except he’s sure Junhyung would appreciate that comment even less). “We’re not going to your apartment.”

          Junhyung continues to stare. “I mean—you’re not—but—”

          “D’you want to go to mine tonight?” Hyunseung cuts in softly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s still only you

 

 

 

 

 

 

          Junhyung feels like the world is shaking, spinning, beneath his feet. He feels like this is a dream again and he might wake up at any moment, except it can’t be. His dreams are always happy—they never hurt, and right now his chest is in so much pain (fiery and white hot) that his lungs are feeling the ache too—it’s hard to breathe.

          He wants to say yes (of course he does) but he’s afraid to.

          He’s afraid that if he says yes (if he says yes and stays over at Hyunseung’s apartment—if he’s alone with Hyunseung again and not drunk) he’ll everything up again. He’s afraid of the reasons behind Hyunseung inviting him over (what if Hyunseung is planning to end it? What if Hyunseung is planning to send Junhyung back?)

          What if Hyunseung is planning to forgive Junhyung?

          (That would be so much worse because it’s something Junhyung can never deserve—no matter what he does, it’ll never be enough and in a way—he wishes that Hyunseung will end it instead)

 

 

 

 

 

Tick tock—tick tock

 

 

 

 

 

          “Sure,” Junhyung says hoarsely.

 

 

 

 

 

Even as time goes by

 

 

 

 

         

          Hyunseung smiles at him. 

 

 

 

 

Hyunseung thinks that he’s being terribly arrogant about all of this—terribly self-assuming and possibly even brave to the point where it’s recklessness rather than courageousness. He thinks that for him to make the assumption that he’ll be able to heal all the scars that Junhyung’s parents (and Hyunseung himself) left rather than setting Junhyung free and entrusting something like that to someone more capable—he thinks that he’s being terribly arrogant about it all. While he might not be the worst person for the job, he’s certainly far from the best.

          It’s just—it just hurts so much (which is ridiculous because Hyunseung isn’t the one who’s been disowned and had everything taken away from him) to see Junhyung the way he is right now. It hurts to see Junhyung standing in the middle of Hyunseung’s living room, one hand wrapped around himself, clutching his arm, expression stiff and blank—it hurts to see Junhyung lifeless because the younger man thinks he either didn’t give Hyunseung enough or doesn’t deserve a second chance to do so. Or both.

          Hyunseung wonders if Junhyung even realizes that it’s Hyunseung who broke their promise.

          “You can—like—sit down, y’know,” Hyunseung says as he takes off his coat and slings it over the kitchen counter, dumping his keys right beside it. Junhyung’s head snaps up, blinking at Hyunseung with raised eyebrows before he lowers his gaze again and moves to sit on one of the sofas.

          Hyunseung walks through the kitchen, rapping his knuckles against the refrigerator. “Thirsty?” he asks as Junhyung takes off his own jacket and tosses it onto the ottoman. “Hungry?”

          Junhyung wrinkles his nose, smiling a little. “What? I’m still ing full—you fed me too damn much.”

          “I didn’t feed you even close to enough,” Hyunseung says, padding into the living room and plopping down beside Junhyung on the sofa. He lifts his legs from the floor, curling them to his body and turning to face Junhyung. The younger man slides back against the armrest, angling his body towards Hyunseung in reaction. “You look like you lost weight—a lot.”

          Junhyung shrugs. “Just a little.”

          “Liar,” Hyunseung snorts. “You’d better have all your fat back the next time I see you.”

          The younger man smiles faintly (painfully). “And when’s that going to be?”

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, when I tell you I love you

 

 

 

 

 

          It’s here.

          It’s finally here and Junhyung doesn’t know what to think anymore—he doesn’t know what he thinks anymore—he doesn’t know what to say after Hyunseung responds however Hyunseung will respond. He doesn’t know what to do—he doesn’t know what he should do—he doesn’t know anything—doesn’t know what to expect. All he knows is that he can barely breath—can barely intake air into his lungs because his heart is beating too fast and his entire chest feels bruised—stings and hurts.

          “Your parents—”

          Oh—

          Oh

          Hyunseung wants to start there.

          “Did you tell them about me?” the older man asks quietly, staring pointedly at the space between the sofa cushions.

          Junhyung clasps his hands together, his lips and biting the inside of his cheek. “No,” he says after a pause. “I mean,” a bitter smile worms it’s way around his mouth, “I was going to—but they were already flipping too much after the first part of the fantastic news—so I never really got around to it.”

          Wow.

 

 

 

 

 

When I tell you thousands and millions of times

 

 

 

 

 

          Wow—really.

          Junhyung is surprised—a little bit amazed, fairly taken aback.

          He’s surprised at how much it hurts.

          He’s amazed—seriously taken aback—at how much it hurts to remember that—to remember telling his parents, to remember that scene—that scenario—that situation—to remember their expressions, their words (their threats). It hurts (so ing much that it almost knocks him breathless partially because he wasn’t expecting it at all and partially because it just hurts) to remember how his mother looked at him, how his father refused to look at him, how they continuously denied it, how they blamed his friends, how they blamed him, how they pegged him as ungrateful (as diseased), how—

          “Whoa—hey—”

          Soft—it’s—

          And then Hyunseung’s fingers are against Junhyung’s cheek. He’s almost kneeling in Junhyung’s lap, one hand cupping Junhyung’s face and the other through the younger man’s hair gently. “Hey,” Hyunseung says softly (nervously, almost). “It’s okay—it’s okay—you’re okay, all right?”

          Junhyung wonders what kind of expression he must be making in order for Hyunseung to be doing this so suddenly—in order to alarm Hyunseung to the point where he’s doing emergency-soothing. He supposes it must be pretty severe considering how much pain is bursting inside of Junhyung’s chest—but—it can’t be severe enough that he’s crying, right?

          He can’t possibly be crying.

          He’s not.

          Right?

          If he is crying (which he’s not), then it’s nothing short of pathetic. They’re worthless tears because he deserves all the pain piercing his chest from the inside out (bleeding him dry). Everything he’s feeling, the pain of having his parents never want to see him again—of having them never understand him—of most likely never seeing them again—of not having any parents from now on—on being an orphan—of never being able to have his parents realize that Junhyung loves and hurts like any other person—all of this pain? It’s exactly what he deserves. It’s nothing short of what he deserves for making Hyunseung hurt just as much—for making Hyunseung hurt because Junhyung was too stupid and blind and selfish to stop.

          “C’mon,” Hyunseung whispers—worriedly, now. “Junhyung-ah—shh—you’re okay—it’s okay—” Junhyung feels Hyunseung’s arms wrap around the younger man—Junhyung feels himself fall (collapse?) with his face pressed against Hyunseung’s chest—feels Hyunseung rest his cheek against the crown of Junhyung’s head.

          Junhyung is pathetic.

 

 

 

 

 

Even when my heart sets on fire

 

 

 

 

 

          “I’m sorry,” Hyunseung whispers, when Junhyung’s sobs quiet down—when the younger man’s shoulders stop shaking and Hyunseung doesn’t feel pouring wetness soaking his shirt. “I shouldn’t have asked you about them.” He thinks that this is probably one of the stupidest things—cruelest, most unfeeling things—he’s ever done. Asking a person who’s just been disowned by his parents about his parents. ing stupid, ing horrible, and Hyunseung is a ing .

          He’s even more of a ing for feeling infinitesimally happy just because Junhyung crying put Junhyung back into Hyunseung’s arms—even if only for the time being. Hyunseung is such an . Maybe he’ll slap himself with a flyswatter when he gets the chance. ing , he’s an and he feels like an and he feels the most like an when Junhyung’s hands grip at Hyunseung’s waist—clinging to him.

          (Hyunseung wishes that Junhyung will never let go)

          But the part of Hyunseung that isn’t occupied with feeling like an is angry—completely and totally furious. Enough anger to do some property damage. A lot of property damage. Amongst other illegal activities. Hyunseung is absolutely livid—angry out of his mind, and it makes him even angrier that he can’t do anything with this fury. He has nowhere to go with it because the two people to whom he wants to direct this anger to are in another country, and Junhyung probably wouldn’t want Hyunseung doing his illegal-property-damaging-activities to those two people.

          It also hurts.

          He’s angry and he’s hurting because Junhyung isn’t lifeless—Junhyung is dying.

          Junhyung is dying from the inside out and Hyunseung is watching him. There’s the possibility of healing—of staunching the bleeding, of easing the terrible pain, but as of right now, Junhyung is dying because he has nowhere to turn to—no one to turn to—nowhere to go—and the people who gave him life no longer want anything to do with him. Junhyung is dying because his parents are dead. To Junhyung, his parents are no longer alive and to his parents, Junhyung is no longer alive.

          A part of Hyunseung almost wants to tell Junhyung to go back to them—to retract everything the younger man said because this kind of pain that Hyunseung is watching Junhyung go through is too much—is impossible and ridiculous and unnecessary and it hurts Hyunseung just as much. A part of Hyunseung almost wants to tell Junhyung to go back, but a bigger part of Hyunseung knows it’s useless. It would only move Junhyung backwards and it’s not like healing is impossible.

          It is.

          It’ll take time—a long, long, long time. But it’s not impossible.

 

 

 

 

 

And my dry lips wear out

 

 

 

 

 

          Junhyung feels the back of Hyunseung’s hand carefully up and down against Junhyung’s cheek. The younger man’s eyelids are heavy—eyes worn and puffy from the ridiculous, unnecessary crying. He wishes he could stay like this and sleep—even if he has to leave in the morning—even if he has to leave later tonight—Junhyung wishes that he could sleep for even just a moment against Hyunseung like this.

          “You seriously lost a load of weight,” Hyunseung says softly. “Hyuna’s supposed to make sure you eat.”

          Junhyung smiles dryly into the cloth of Hyunseung’s shirt. “She hasn’t been all that happy with me these past few months,” he says. “And I wasn’t really in the mood to eat.” He doesn’t add that he didn’t really feel like he deserved to eat—or live.

          “Then ing get in the mood,” Hyunseung’s voice is gentle. He thumbs the leftover wetness away from Junhyung’s cheeks.

          The younger man laughs weakly. He bites his lip, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply—a shuddering breath that hurts his chest and brings the sting back to his eyes again (threatens to make them overflow again when they’ve just stopped and Junhyung tries his best to prevent that from happening because it’s just pathetic and stupid and embarrassing and pointless—it really is). “Feels like this happens a lot, huh?”

          “What does?” Hyunseung asks, confused.

          “Us talking about parents and me crying my out,” Junhyung says, smiling humorlessly.

 

 

 

 

 

Even when I’m born again

 

 

 

 

 

          Hyunseung feels his own lips curve into a smile that’s anything but happy—it’s not sad, not bitter, but there’s not much positive carried in it either. “Same old, same old,” Hyunseung says quietly, looking down at how Junhyung’s eyes are already half-closed—eyebrows furrowed in some sort of silent conflict, but Hyunseung can tell that Junhyung is tired, sleepy and worn out. The older man slides his hand up and down between the younger man’s shoulder blades, patting his back.

“You can sleep here, y’know,” Hyunseung says softly. “Bed’s over there,” he adds, nudging his chin towards his room.

Junhyung suddenly turns in Hyunseung’s lap, facing upward at the ceiling instead of against Hyunseung’s stomach now. The younger man’s expression is carefully colorless, a little resigned, a little thoughtful (Hyunseung can’t stand how the rims of Junhyung’s eyes are still red and puffy). “You always feel bad for me after we talk about our parents,” he says in a small voice. “So then you’re always—like—it doesn’t matter how much of a bastard I am, you keep taking me back because you feel bad for me.”

          “How do you know I feel bad for you right now?” Hyunseung whispers, and he doesn’t know how if it’s physically possible for his heart rate to accelerate so abruptly from a steady thumping into a stuttering so chaotic that he wouldn’t be surprised if his heart fails any moment now. He looks straight down into Junhyung’s eyes and the younger man looks more resigned than ever (frightened?). “How do you know that I’m not the bastard for breaking a promise and basically letting you become a ticking, self-destruct, time bomb?”

          Junhyung’s eyes narrow suddenly, his gaze gaining focus and the sleepiness instantly fades as the younger man sits up so he can look straight on into Hyunseung’s eyes. “Because it wasn’t even a promise,” the younger man says, voice tinted with incredulity. “I said that, remember? I said that it’s not a promise if it’s made to a bastard and that’s ing me.”

          Hyunseung swallows thickly because it hurts. It hurts to just look at Junhyung and think of all the ways Hyunseung has hurt him—hurts to think of how much pain Hyunseung’s caused him since the older man’s walked into Junhyung’s life. “To me, it was a promise,” Hyunseung says. “And I broke it because I thought—”

          “And it did—”

          “I never thought they’d disown you,” Hyunseung says tightly—tensely—tersely. “I just thought they’d take everything away like you said they would, but then you could get that back yourself or maybe they’d change their minds.” He feels like he’s suffocating, like he might throw up, and every breath he takes shudders as he inhales and exhales. “You never told me they could ing throw you out,” he says and hates how his voice rises, almost desperately. “They’re your parents, so if you knew they’d do that, why the —”

          “A while ago,” Junhyung cuts Hyunseung off abruptly—the younger man stares down into his lap, hands fisted together, “this guy told me that even if my parents stopped loving me—that—that someone out there would.”

          Junhyung is so stupid.

          Junhyung is a complete and Hyunseung wants to punch him in the face.

          “How the ,” Hyunseung says in a whisper, “could you have been sure that I’d take you back? What if I didn’t—”

 

 

 

 

 

It’s still only you

 

 

 

 

 

          “If you don’t,” Junhyung murmurs, “then you don’t.”

          Hyunseung stares—in disbelief, in shock, in something that he has to hold back and hide and restrain because he doesn’t want to hope. “I don’t—you—why?”

          The younger man smiles, and it’s perfect—it’s not humorless, not bitter, not dry, not sad. It’s perfect. It’s tiny, but it’s perfect because it’s just the way Hyunseung remembers it. Junhyung’s lips curve, eyes crinkle, exactly the way Hyunseung remembers—precisely the way Hyunseung has always loved and—

          “’Cause it’s you,” Junhyung says with that tiny, hesitant, terribly unsure smile. “I know—like—I know you don’t think so, but you’re worth it—you’re probably worth a lot more than I could ever give you—so—I just—” The smile falters a bit then. His eyes lower, fall away from Hyunseung’s gaze. “You probably don’t even want to hear it—it’s ing stupid to say it now,” and Hyunseung hates how Junhyung’s voice is shaking (because Hyunseung doesn’t want to hear it—he doesn’t need to because he’s already forgiven Junhyung and why can’t the younger man see that?)

          “I’m sorry,” Junhyung whispers.

          Junhyung is, honestly, so incredibly ing stupid. It’s like Junhyung has to see it in order to believe it.

          Hyunseung will make him see it.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, oh—only for you

 

 

 

 

 

          Junhyung wonders how his life got to this—how his life got to a point where his first reaction is to always assume that he’s asleep and dreaming and none of this could possibly be real. But this time, he thinks that it’s a viable reaction. He thinks that anyone in his place, in this situation, in these circumstances, would immediately reach the conclusion that this couldn’t possibly be the reality because it’s nowhere near the reality that Junhyung knows he deserves.

          Junhyung definitely knows he doesn’t deserve this.

          He doesn’t deserve to have Hyunseung kissing him.

 

 

 

 

 

For me, it’s you

 

 

 

 

 

          Hyunseung just leans over, one hand against Junhyung’s cheek, fingers pressing into the sides of Junhyung’s cheekbones—and kisses him.

          It’s nothing deep, but it’s not brief or shallow either. It’s not gentle, not soft—not hard or rough or fierce. It’s just a kiss that’s a kiss and it’s been too long—it’s been so long that Junhyung almost wishes that Hyunseung didn’t kiss him because if this doesn’t end the way Junhyung (is praying, hoping, wishing) thinks that it might, then it’ll hurt enough to kill him. He doesn’t want to imagine that kind of pain ever again—he doesn’t want to go through it ever again.

          But he knows that a second round of what he went through during Hyunseung’s disappearance would still be nothing short of what Junhyung deserves. After everything Junhyung’s put Hyunseung through, there’s nothing that’s too terrible for the younger man. Nothing at all.

          When Hyunseung draws away, when they meet each other’s eyes—

 

 

 

 

 

Why don’t you know?

 

 

 

 

 

          There are over a million words that hang between them—waiting to be plucked, waiting to be chosen, begging to be said, desperate to be expressed. There are so many that Junhyung doesn’t even know where to look in order to choose the right ones—in order to say the most important ones, the ones that need to be said the most.

          Luckily—

          Hyunseung seems to already have found them.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s only you

 

 

 

 

 

          Junhyung’s heartbeat isn’t speeding, but it’s not steady either—it’s uneven and trembling and nervous, as Hyunseung slips his hands into Junhyung’s. “I don’t just do anyone,” Hyunseung starts quietly, and he gives Junhyung a smile that looks as nervous as Junhyung himself feels, “and I don’t just do anything.”

          “Neither do I,” Junhyung says, smiling back just as nervously (anticipatorily). It’s funny, he thinks, how he remembers all of this word for word—on this time, he remembers which words have to be changed because everything has changed. It’s funny, he thinks, how walking past the head of the communications department on his first day of work could’ve turned—blossomed—into something like this.

          (Something that’s given Junhyung what he never even realized he’s been looking for his entire life)

          Their eyes meet.

          Junhyung moves one of his hands away from Hyunseung’s, reaching up to cup the older man’s face.

          “I don’t just do anything,” Hyunseung whispers, and his tone is even teasing now—hesitantly playful. “I kind of only do relationships.”

          This time, Junhyung gets it. He finally gets it (and he’ll never let it go).

          “Yeah,” he smiles back, and runs his fingertips down the side of Hyunseung’s face. “Me, too.”