Youngjae let the gravity pulled his body to the couch. Too exhausted to even try otherwise. Another day working on the project. Another blown to his already too-tired self. Being the project leader was not easy, but he never thought that it would be THIS bad.

He didn’t have enough time for anything—everything. Not the project, not his studies, not himself, and of course, not for Daehyun. When was the last time they met? He cannot recall. Maybe a week? For someone who usually meets each other everyday, this of course, is a big let down.

But the fact that Youngjae hadn’t had the time to think about it, was somehow frightening the black-haired male.

He had, somehow, stopped to care.

And he, somehow, didn’t try anything to stop the falling dominos.

He would always blames it to the exhaustion, to the neverending problems that he had to solve. To the less and less time he had for his own.

 

But who says, that the weakening limbs could justify the numbness of heart?

No one should. No one would.

And he should not.

 

He had read this piece, one day, of a seemingly happy couple who secretly grown cold towards each other. Their hearts melt just like ice cubes, slowly, without the heat of an argument, just with the slight warm of negligence. And he wonders, if maybe, his seemingly perfect relationship would simply go astray. It would snap even without the interference of force, just by simply getting drag around slowly in a slightly too distant roads.

But even when he thinks of that. He wasn’t afraid.

But he was terrified, of not feeling the fear that shoud’ve been there.

He blames it to his strained brain, to the neverending whines that he received from many kinds of people each day.

 

But who says, that the dead of a brain could stop a beating heart?

No one should. No one would.

And he should not.

But, could he?

 

Daehyun hadn’t protested. Not even once. Not when he didn’t reply to his message. Not when he had fallen asleep in the middle of their phone conversation. Not when he declined his invitation just because he didn’t feel like meeting any other living being. Not even when he forgot about their monthlyversary.

He was always there, on the other side of the line, smiling as he speaks. Because he is simply a perfection. A too kind of a man who always patiently deals with an egocentric mess like him.

But Youngjae had read, in between his concerned and encouraging words, the slight fear. His subtle desperation. The way he holds his hand just a little tighter, afraid of letting it go.

But he wasn’t afraid.

He wasn’t afraid of losing him.

Because he knew Daehyun wouldn’t go anywhere.

Because maybe, even if he did, Youngjae would only just slightly care.

And he was afraid of that.

He blames it to his haywired nerves. To the constant fake smiles he had to put on each suffocating days.

 

But who says, that a tangled meat could explain a confused feeling?

Once again, no one would.

 

There was also this one story, about a cup of coffee. It is still a cup of coffee, in the drizzing rain or under the heating sun. It is still a cup of coffee, served hot or cold, with the company of cake of bread. It is still a coffee, even if it’s lukewarm. But is that still a love, with no burning passion or calming warmth? Is that still a love, if it’s served cold in a hypocrity plate? Is that still a love without the rollercoaster ride of a pair harmonious beating heart?

Is this still a love?

He blames it to the bitter coffee he drank every night. To every ramen cup he gulped down in his sleepless night.

 

But who says, but who says that it’s still love?

Daehyun would.

 

But could he?

 

 

 

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Fyuh. I don't know where this came from *or maybe I know*

I tried, really. Hahaha