My head hurts like Hell, man, where am I? The feeling of rough sheet on top of me tells me that I'm not at home. My certificates and those generic motivational posters on my walls are gone. A picture of homey-looking crystals is the only thing that greets me. Some beeping machines are the only things that know that I'm alive. So I did end up in the hospital like Taemin and Jongin said I would. I'm bored as already, where are they anyway? How long have I been lying here? I exhale slowly. At least I've stop sweating. I just need to change out of this disgusting gown.

 

A cute nurse comes to my bed when I was just about to tear off those tube and change myself.

 

"How are you feeling, Wonshik?" she asks me nicely.

 

"Tired," I answer while noticing how her blue scrub pants hug her hips snugly. Looking at her hips don't do me any good though.

 

For the next few minutes, the nurse tells me something about staying here for a few hours before I can go home. I’m leaving you some newspaper, pen, and paper, she says, in case you're bored. Then she leaves me alone.

 

I turn to the paper and pen that she left me. Taemin, Jongin, and my family probably won't come for me anyway until I'm discharged, might as well jot down something to distract myself like I've always did for the past five months. And he is less likely to pick me up, I dismiss the annoying thought and pick up the pen and the blank paper - a clean slate. "Tell me a story," he asked me a long time ago. "What are you? A five-year-old?" I teased. "Doesn't matter. We have a long way to go anyway," he got on his tip toe, using my shoulders as support to peer at the highway roadside that didn't seem to end, "Tell me a true story. Or a not-so-true-story; it doesn't really matter. Nothing matters as long as we have a happy ending."

 

Few cars zoomed past Wonshik and Hakyeon that young night. They began that journey from a faraway party and the end was home. They threaded their way into the dark night; the only lights that shone on their uneven path were the vehicles’ headlights. The shorter boy spread his arms out, “I’m a kite,” Hakyeon announced.

 

“No. You’re not. You’re drunk,” Wonshik tried pinning his arms down, while trying to keep up with his agility and avoid getting hit by a car at a same time. It’s going to kill him one day walking besides Hakyeon.

 

“I’m a drunk kite,” Hakyeon corrected himself. He flapped his imaginary sail, ready to fly. That’s when Wonshik noticed the old bandage on his right elbow. He grazed it. Hakyeon yelped and almost punched his face.

 

Wonshik let go, “It still hasn’t healed yet?” he asked guiltily.

 

“Don’t touch me!” Hakyeon dodged him on wobbly feet, “You want to fight again?”

 

“Careful!” Wonshik steadied him by the arm, “I’m not going to fight you, shortie.” They both cackled.

 

“Shortie,” Hakyeon had breathed the word to Wonshik’s one day in the locker room after P.E. class. Wonshik had lost it and slammed him against the locker. Hakyeon, who was clearly the shorter one, shoved him back with so much force that Wonshik fell over. Fists and kicks were thrown over the word “shortie.”

 

“You gave me a bruise that as big as an orange,” Wonshik reminded him.

 

“The size of a baby orange,” Hakyeon corrected him.

 

Now that the memory of that fight surfaced to Wonshik’s mind, he remembered why he had been so pissed off. As if Hakyeon could read his quietness, “You had anger issue.” Wonshik glanced at Hakyeon now instead of the road ahead of him. “Yeah. Genius,” Wonshik complemented with sneer. Wonshik reckoned he’d figured out what made Wonshik hit Hakyeon. It had been hard not to be mad at him when he lost to Hakyeon in a basketball game while Wonshik was the basketball team captain himself. And a few days before they had gotten into the fight, Wonshik also lost to Hakyeon in a dance battle:

 

Hakyeon’s dancing was always close to flawless. Even as an amateur, Hakyeon had learned to embrace the beat flowing into his veins. He had lifted an arm skyward, temptatively at first, then his dandy legs followed suit. His torso guided his hips and the rest followed. He bent his entire being towards the left, backward, right, and swiveled back up, like the strings of poplar tree sway gracefully on windy days. His twirl was more precise than a seamstress. His body tilted but Hakyeon was the master in complete control. There was no more audience. It was only Hakyeon in the universe. He was lost.

 

Wonshik lost. In oppose to Hakyeon’s natural grace, his steps were loud and demanding. His thrown arms were raw and powerful. His legs kicking under his upper body were bouncing with youth. There was zero pretense in the way he mobilized his limbs.He was indeed a young warrior fighting against gravity; fighting against air; fighting against Hakyeon. He was immersed in the audience as much as he was aware of his extravagant motions. Wonshik finished his break dance routine basking in enthusiastic cheer, but he lost, regardless of the crowd’s positive reaction. In his mind, Hakyeon was always the winner. “Good job, Wonshik,” Hakyeon had touched his arm, congratulating his victory. Wonshik had flung him away.

 

It also did not help that under Wonshik’s brilliant leadership, his basketball team was doing worse than Hakyeon’s soccer team. Oh. And did Wonshik mention that Hakyeon was the first-place student in the academics? While Wonshik’s rank had been nowhere close to the school’s heartthrob and public enemy.

 

Hakyeon tipped over towards the railing, only Wonshik was there to prevent him from falling to the unmerciful river below.

 

Hakyeon hiccuped, “I know exactly why you punched me.”

 

Wonshik met Hakyeon’s glossy almond eyes. He couldn’t help but think that his eyes were shining. It’s because of the alcohol, Wonshik liked to think, “Why?”

 

“Bang Minah.”

 

Wonshik was rendered speechless. His heart plummeted to his stomach. And the cold wind was suddenly too acute for his sensitive skill. The mentioning of her made Wonshik remember that this journey home did not happen in another world, their past still followed them everywhere:

 

Bang Minah - she had many titles, such as the vice president in Wonshik and Hakyeon’s junior class; the teacher’s favourite student and wingwoman; the queenka of the school whom the boys drooled over and the girls envied; or just the cutest, bubbliest, friendliest girl in the whole world! Wonshik thought bitterly. He really did not understand what Hakyeon had seen in that boring, bland girl.

 

Wonshik had caught them many times in the hallway. Their heads had always huddled; their voices were hushed; their lips were almost touching, sharing the greatest secret that only belonged to the two of them. Wonshik stormed past them, but neither looked up or even aware of anything that was happening around them. Bang Minah and Cha Hakyeon, the perfectly happy couple lost in their perfectly happy world, ignorant to the whispers and rumours that were flying around them.

 

Wonshik lost it one day. He did not predict that it would be a bomb that hurt them the most.

 

“Is...Is this for me?” Minah could not look up from the box of chocolate with the heart-shape sticky note attached. Wonshik fidgeted with his fingers, too scared to watch her reaction. “Yes,” he choked out a word lamely.

 

It had stung when Minah’s hand squeezed his.

 

No doubt both Wonshik and Hakyeon remembered the times when Minah and Wonshik were an item. Minah, like the expected caring girlfriend that she was suppose to be, clung onto him everywhere. It was no secret that everyone was envious. Of course the basketball team captain would date a popular queenka. Slowly, Hakyeon was fading to the background, until he was completely out of the picture.  Only a few remembered that he had a thing with Minah prior. But they better kept their mouths shut if they didn’t want to taste the wrath coming from Wonshik and Hakyeon. It had been a time that both of them wanted to not remember.

 

“Did you love her?” Hakyeon finally asked, sounding more sober than a while ago. He seemed to be focusing on walking in a straight line, instead of showing any desperation for his answer. Wonshik, however, did not take his question as spontaneity; he saw it as courage.

 

“Did you love her?” Wonshik threw the question back at him. He wasn’t as courageous as Hakyeon, but atleast he asked it too.

 

Courage did not take them far, Hakyeon only shrugged noncommittally.

 

The sole sound was the wind whizzing between them. The summer night turned chillier as the infinite time drew on. But not speaking about her or what happened back then did not chase the frosty temperature. Wonshik hated it. He wished the night would be over already.

 

He wanted to go home.

 

As if some Divine Being answered his prayer, a Jeep pulled over and stopped next to the two teenage boys. The driver poked his head out. His shiny balding scalp was smoothed over under the moonshine. “Where y’all heading, boys?” Wonshik noticed the slur in the middle-age man.

 

Wonshik turned away, “None of your business,” Hakyeon stared at him quizzically as Wonshik pulled him along, away from their “rescue.”

 

“Hey!” the car rolled besides them, “I’m just a nice man trying to give you an easy ride!”

 

Nice man my , Wonshik thought disgustedly. Did that ert think that he’s naive enough to miss his leering smile and the lust in his eyes? “Go yourself,” Wonshik grumbled, then grabbed onto Hakyeon tighter and ran back to the way they came from. He ran as fast as he could, even though he knew that the man wouldn’t possibly risk an U-turn on the highway.

 

“What-What was that?!” Hakyeon asked, breathless, as they both collapsed on the sidewalk.

 

“Yah! Are you that drunk?” he hit his head lightly, “That ert trying to get laid!”

 

Hakyeon looked horrified. Good, let him think how close we were being eaten alive by that gross man, Wonshik thought.

 

Hakyeon’s laugh was light as feather. Wonsik hit his head again, how could he laugh in a dire situation like this?!

 

“It’s your fault, Wonshikkie. You’re too hot even for men to resist,” Hakyeon teased.

 

“Yah! Stop joking around,” Wonshik resorted to picking out pattern in his muddy running shoes. He honestly didn’t find Hakyeon funny at all.

 

“Hey, cutie,” Hakyeon reached for Wonshik’s stubble-less chin, “You’re too modest.”

 

Wonshik swatted his hand away, “Knock it off!”

 

Hakyeon dropped his hand to his side, like a child who got scolded by a once-loving parent without knowing what he did wrong. He watched Wonshik get up on his feet and turned around once again to the way home. Wonshik kept walking, without a regard whether or not Hakyeon has gotten onto his feet. Wonshik’s head leaned into his entwined palms, something indescribable was bubbling inside his chest, trying to throw him off inertia. Hakyeon fell farther behind. His touch; his smile; his laugh; his hips, all faded into the night. Wonshik was running  into someone old again. Her name, or his name, was Lee Hyeri.

 

It had been a mistake to wear those boy’s uniform.

 

Wonshik conjured up Hyeri’s dignified expression in his mind. On that day, Hyeri had came to class wearing the dark green short instead of the checkered skirt. Her placid eyes avoided the confusion, disdain, sympathy, or mixed reactions in her classmate's’ eyes. Wonshik and Hakyeon could see through her bravado though (Wonshik could never get used to calling her a “his”). Underneath the fearless act was fear. Wonshik and Hakyeon saw each other then, and knew what was waiting.

 

And they didn’t have to wait too long.

 

“Kim Wonshik?” Hyeri held Wonshik’s runners in a plastic bag. He had found the wrong shoes in his shoe locker this morning, and he had told him that they would meet in the basketball court. He scanned the empty court nervously. When Hyeri was about to give up, two pairs of hands grabbed onto his arms from behind in iron grips, and pulled her. “Let me go!” his head twisted around but it was hard to see who was the perpetrators. When they did let go, they threw him on the gravel ground behind the shrubbery. Sungjae picked Hyeri up by clasping on his chin, “You’re too pretty to be a boy; what a shame.” Hyeri tried to get up, only he was being pushed down by Minhyuk and Eunkwang again. Hyeri locked his deathly glare with Sungjae’s: You touch me; you die.

 

“Look. Your uniform is a mess,” Sungjae went on in a mocking, concerned tone, “Let hyung fix it for you.” His friends snickered. When Sungjae reached for the hem of his shirt, his fingertips brushed past his s, that’s when Hyeri clamped his teeth at his forearm. He screamed, “,” an echoing slap landed on Hyeri’s face. Sungjae rubbed on the sore spot where he’d bitten him. “Wonshik, key,” Sungjae’s tone was chilly, the playfulness was long gone. That’s when Hyeri noticed two other boys standing a little way off. She recognized pity in their eyes immediately, so she finally allowed her desperation showed: I don’t deserve this  mistreatment for being who I am! “Key!” Sungjae barked.

 

Hakyeon caught Wonshik’s wrist before he could move forward. In the end, it was Minhyuk who gave him the house key. “Please,” Hyeri’s voice was shaking now as Sungjae came closer. “Tell me you want a tattoo,” Sungjae threatened. The sharpened key was an inch away from his porcelain face. “Please!” Hyeri bit back his tears as he felt the cold piece of metal pressed against his cheek.

 

“What are you guys doing?!”

 

The group of students were alerted by a school monitor approaching them. Everyone took flight instantly except for Hyeri who was left as a broken sobbing mess on the ground. His bowed head; his fetus body, had been the last image Wonshik saw before he ran away with the rest like there’s no tomorrow.

 

Hakyeon's hand brought Wonshik back to the present. The stars scarcely decorated the ink-black sky. The traffic was few and yield to none. Wonshik took a sharp breath of the cold air, reminding himself that he’s here; he’s now. Hyeri couldn’t run and catch up to him. Clumsily, Hakyeon twirled him around so he could cup Wonshik’s heated cheeks in his palms, "What's wrong?" his eyes shimmered with concern. "If you're really my other half, then you should know," Wonshik said.

 

"My other half" - that's the nickname they had for each other since middle school. Wonshik and Hakyeon - in every aspects alike, though differ in skills - were connected - that's what Wonshik liked to believe. Now it's time to put belief to test.

 

"Geez, you expect too much from me sometimes,” Hakyeon said exasperatedly, “Just spill it."

 

He failed. "You asked me if I loved Minah,” pause - Wonshik mulled over his word, “The truth is: I don't want to be like her."

 

Finally, a hint of understanding crossed Hakyeon's expression. He let Wonshik go.

 

The precise incident that lingered between Wonshik and Hakyeon was sworn unspoken. They pretended that they've never seen them. They feigned ignorance. If they didn’t talk, then he won’t know - Sungjae was the last one who needed to know what they had witnessed:

 

That early summer day had been too scorching to perform anything productive, so Sungjae had another idea: find Hyeri and do some body art. "?" Minhyuk had asked. Sungjae had shrugged, "It depends if she got ies." They guffawed, leaving Wonshik and Hakyeon shuffling their feet awkwardly.

 

So in pairs, they searched for their afternoon's fun. Only when they were out of earshot, did Hakyeon dare to grumble, "I swear if his dad isn't on the board of directors, I'll-"

 

"-smash his face in halves," Wonshik finished his sentence.

 

"Exactly."

 

"All of this are for our scholarship and future, Hakyeonnie," Wonshik reminded them both. Hakyeon hated how he had phrased the statement: it sounded like as if there was nothing wrong with what they were doing. There’s nothing wrong with crushing other people’s morales to get what they wanted. There’s nothing wrong with turning a blind eye on outcasts like Hyeri. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be the winner if someone has to lose. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to survive in this cruel world.

 

"We don't have to find her, you know?" said Wonshik softly.

 

"And let others find her? No way! We'll find her first and tell her to go home."

 

"But if they know..."

 

" them."

 

Wonshik wanted to dissuade him, but he had learned not to mess with Hakyeon when he wanted something.

 

They found Hyeri behind the tool shed. And Minah too. Her hands were entangled in his short hair. They couldn't see them probably except for that their faces seem to merge, starting from their lips. And Minah's chubby legs nestled comfortably between Hyeri's while their hands explored each other's. Wonshik and Hakyeon backed off after a moment of shock, all of Hakyeon's resolution was forgotten. They walked away calmly and quietly without screaming like little girls. Once they were far away enough, they shrieked.

 

"OH, MY GOD! What was that?!" Wonshik shook Hakyeon's small frame.

 

"They were... kissing," Hakyeon replied mindlessly, obviously still stunned from what they've seen.

 

"I know that! But Minah and Hyeri?! How did that even happen? I don't remember Minah talking about Hyeri even once!"

 

"You know Minah; she's nice to everyone.”

 

Wonshik kicked the grass bitterly when the initial bewilderment started to recede, "So nice that she had to make out with her." , he's not sorry for thinking her like that, "I'm dumping her." He didn't know what's more embarrassing: having your girlfriend cheated on you or never have suspected that your girlfriend was a lesbian.

 

"You should talk to her first."

 

"Nope! If anyone finds out about this, we're all doomed. They will treat us like freaks if they know that we were used by a lesbian."

 

"Watch it," Hakyeon warned him for crossing the line, "You don't know for sure if she’s using us or a lesbian, just because she’s making out with a tran.”

 

"Oh, really? She’s dating me and had a thing with you a while back! We are smokescreen! Are you ing blind?!”

 

Hakyeon shut up then, which was even more unnerving.

 

"You don't know who's using who," that had been Hakyeon's last words.

 

"The truth is: I don't want to be like Minah either," Hakyeon said when he's walking with Wonshik side by side now. He held onto the railing for support, not meeting Wonshik’s eyes, "I want to be like Hyeri. He's braver than anyone."

 

Wonshik turned to him grimly, “He is, but I'll never be like him."

 

"Why not?" Hakyeon asked stubbornly, "He's free."

 

Wonshik scoffed, "Don't be so naive. He's trapped in everyone's scrutiny."

 

"And we're not trapped in everyone's scrutiny? We're trapped in their expectations and our own skin!" who's the stupid one now? his eyes taunted him.

 

Wonshik kept walking then, ignoring the pain and sore that burned in his calves. They have been walking for hours and for miles, and home was nowhere to be seen. Are we lost? Wonshik tried keeping that thought out of his mind. The last thing he needed was panic. He would not think of the possibilities that he could never go back to the life he's familiar with and knew by his soul. Not coming home meant he would lose everything.

 

He felt something warm against his side. Hakyeon had placed his hand there, not moving or moving away; it just lied there on Wonshik’s tingling skin. "Don't," Wonshik warned him. He recognized his look very well - no one dared to get in the way of what he wanted. "Don't what?" Hakyeon asked innocently. He lifted Wonshik’s shirt a little bit, a draft wind brushed past his hips like icy fingers... no ... they were Hakyeon's. "You don't know if this is what you want," Wonshik spoke calmly, praying that his erratic heartbeat would not be heard, You don't know if you want me. "I do know that you never loved her, neither did I," Hakyeon was on his tip toe now, his lips were merely a few centimetres from his sweating neck. "You're drunk." "Not anymore." "You'll ruin us," meaning our friendship; our family; our reputations; our future; our everything. Just a little kiss. Hakyeon's lips landed on his collarbone, the life out of Wonshik. He jerked away. He resumed walking, without giving Hakyeon a second look. It was unacceptable. It was sinful. Why didn't Hakyeon get that? To get home, they could only walk in one direction. If they walked astray, off the road, they would get killed by on-going traffic, it was an obvious expectation. The night was old. Dawn seemed to creep but never came. The sky turned murkier. The pathway they were walking on merge with another. Then another. First, they were untouched parallel lines. Now they touched. They skewed. They bent. They made a ring. Wonshik was running in a circle...

 

My eyes open with a start, the fluorescent light and the trademark hospital smell surprise me. The once blank paper is now filled with Hakyeon, but where's the pen? I'm not done writing yet! I still haven't written the happy ending! An angry tear rolls on my cheek that I don't bother wiping it off. Why bother? Why bother with anything at all? "I'm not going to write a happy ending just because you asked me too," I remember telling Hakyeon, "You need to earn it! All good things need effort for them to come true." Hakyeon pouted then, "Not necessary. Some people were born lucky." "And some were born unlucky," I finished the other half.

 

Wonshik was the unlucky half, but that's bull, he never believed in abstract ideas like "luck" or "fate". But he did like to explore, argue, and redefine the abstractions. It was a little sense of control he could foster in the big abstractions, such as “fate.” Wonshik never believed in fate. Everything that was going to happen was hinted all along. Everything that had happened to Wonshik and Hakyeon was meticulously planned; it was never up to the randomness of fate.

 

"I'm so jealous of the people in those cars," Hakyeon suddenly blurted out, his eyes glued on the few cars driving at night on the highway.

 

Wonshik bent over, "I can give you a piggy back ride."

 

Hakyeon slapped his then, refusing to get on, "I'm not tired."

 

Wonshik wrapped his arms around Hakyeon's calves anyway. Hakyeon yelped because of the sudden shift of gravity. He gripped onto his shoulders tightly while his legs wrapped around his torso, "Yah! I could've fell and die!"

 

"You are talking, so you are still alive," a small smile graced his lips when the older guy snuggled close to his sturdy back. Wonshik felt his steady rise and fall of his ribcage on his skin. He kind of wished that the road won't end, so Hakyeon could lean on him forever.

 

"I'm so jealous of the drivers because they have a destination," Hakyeon murmured into his neck, which was startling because Wonshik thought he's fallen asleep.

 

“We have a destination too,” Wonshik replied defensively.

 

“Not really. We’re lost.”

 

“Being lost doesn’t mean we don’t have a destination - we’re going home.”

 

“We wouldn’t be lost if we have a destination.”

 

“Yes. We would!” Wonshik argued. He did not know why it was so important for Hakyeon to be proven wrong. He did not know why he was so defensive and panicky either, “We have a destination, but we just lost our way. We know where we want to go.”

 

“And where’s that? Where are we going?”

 

Wonshik shifted Hakyeon’s weight on his back. Home, he wanted to repeat, but he knew that’s not the answer Hakyeon was seeking. Maybe the answer was “home”. But what was “home”? “I don’t know,” he settled on ignorance.

 

“You do know, Wonshik, you’re going somewhere that feels right to you.”

 

“And where’s that?”

 

“I don’t know. You’re the only one who knows what’s right for you.”

 

That made perfect sense to Wonshik. Still, the answer was not any easier. “What about you? Where’s ‘right for you?’”

 

“Seoul.”

 

That made perfect sense to Wonshik too. They would go to Seoul one day - that’s the promise they had with each other since middle school. They would go to one of the SKY universities together and played on sport teams. They would graduate somehow and find an office job in Seoul. Each of them would marry a nice city girl and have a few kids. They would still remained good friends then. Life could go on more or less the same. As senior year approached, their plan was becoming vivid reality than just big abstract talk. “I want to go to Seoul too,” Wonshik echoed his words. He didn’t know that his words sounded empty to Hakyeon’s ears.

 

Empty.

 

Empty promises.

 

That's all I felt when I was lying in the small practice room. I let the music seeped into the body and be blocked by my ears. My head was pounding so badly. The dimmed room echoed with my shallow heartbeat and breathing. My mouth was dry but I didn't reach for the water bottle. Let me die here. Let me die in a room that me and him shared. Let him find my corpse here. Let him cry. Let him feel all the guilt in the world. My ghost will find his. He won’t be able to forget me... I got on my feet again. I needed to - ought to - perfect our routine for our up-coming contest... or the contest that had already past and I had not gone to. Neither had Hakyeon. Unlike someone I knew, I kept my promises. I unscrewed the bottle and poured water all over myself. I flung it on the other end of the room. And hit someone in the shadow. "Wonshik," the shadow called. I ran towards the familiar sound; the familiar warmth. I caught Hakyeon in my arms, "You're back," my voice was muffled in his shirt.

 

"Only for a little bit."

 

Those words were like a punch in my gut, so I backed away, "Why are you back if you're only here for a little bit?! Leave!" I threw fists at Hakyeon's chest. Then he was gone as if he was never there. He was never there, I realized. How was that my heartache was real but he wasn't?! The memories of him haunted me already when he was only gone for five months. He was gone... What about our college dream and our life all planned out? What was I going to do now without you? Life was empty without Hakyeon.

 

Smell of sweat reeked off of my body, but I didn't move. What if he came back again? I wanted Hakyeon to find me wherever he was.

 

If he didn't find me, I'll go find him wherever he was.

 

So I danced. I danced until there was no life left of me for dancing. I'll never be as good as Hakyeon, but I had to keep trying. If I had survived cram school, I could survive the worst fatigue… anything so I could get close to him. If he was still here, he would chide me. He would tell me that I was being disrespectful to dancing. Your dancing is soulless, he would say. My soul had been gone too the day you were gone. All that left for me were anger and regret. My dance was the living monument for you. If only you would change your mind and come back, I'll be all yours: my soul, my anger, my regret, my everything.

 

I gave everything to dancing because I could no longer give anything to him. I had given up the chance of giving everything to him while he was still here with me. I danced until exhaustion almost killed me. If anyone asked, I will tell them that I died from heartbreak. But I didn't die. I ended up in a stupid hospital, breathing because of some life-supporting machines. I lived not because of him, but something artificial... What am I thinking now? Being all sentiment and ? They gave me drugs, didn't they? I close my eyes once more, waiting for the discharge. Once I'm out, I can throw myself back to self-pity and indulgence.

 

***

 

The world is against me and my self-indulgence after my discharge. My parents ban me from going back to the dance academy, in case I will pass out again, so I beg and threaten. "One hour. I'll have someone keep track of you." Everyday, I steal one hour to spend time with the spirit of Hakyeon - my other half. Only through dancing, I am complete. For the rest of the time, I write. I write about anything with Hakyeon in it. Through writing, I learn more about Hakyeon than when he was still here with me. Pen and paper became my new spiritual pathway for me to get close to Hakyeon. It's time for me to move on. While moving on, I will try holding onto him as much as I can, until we meet again.

 

We meet again as quick as a phone call.

 

Hakyeon is sitting at his desk in his room. His back faces towards me, like he's been waiting for me an hour prior. He's waiting for me to finish our homeworks and then play League together, like we've always done before he disappeared for six months. I thought I was prepared on the way rushing from my house to his. My heart is still beating irrationally from all the running. He turns around. A tired smile sports his lips. Tears prick my eyes upon seeing how worn-out he looks. He's aged six years after those six months. "Aren't you coming over to give me a hug or something?" he says in light, joking tone. I lift him on his feet and welcome him back with my lips on his gaping one. There's no response at first, until his arm wraps around my firm waist and he deepens the kiss. Finally, there's no distance separates us at all. I didn't know that I wanted all of him until I'm trapping him in my arms. I break the kiss, staring squarely into his eyes, "You're not going anywhere without me," I breathe. He's quiet. Instead of promise me anything, he seals any waiting words with another kiss. It is salty, gentler, his teeth barely touches my plump cushion. He's the one who pulls away this time, though our foreheads are connected and his hands are on my waist, "I'm here to restart my unfinished journey." I pull away, eyes wide with fear, "I want to say goodbye properly."

 

So this is why you're here? To crush my hope completely?

 

He reads my thought and I read that he's more sorry than anyone on Earth, "I have to go back to Seoul to be a dancer, an artist, an idol, a performer or whatever. I'm sorry I have to leave you."

 

"I will go with you," I stare back at him.

 

He only shakes his head sadly, "My parents and I already signed a contract with SM."

 

“Your parents did what?” I stare back at him dumbly, “But you ran away for six months without saying anything!”

 

“I passed the audition. I guess that made them less worry about me. But this isn’t about you. Don't throw your future plan for me.”

 

"My future plan is you!" I shake his shoulders desperately, hoping I can shake some sense into him.

 

Hakyeon waves his head dismissively, "You're just lost without a destination. You were riding beside me for too long. You don’t know yet because we did everything together: trying out for sport teams, mixing with the wrong crowd, involving with the same girl… You should find where you want to go."

 

"I want to be with you!" I stomp my foot stubbornly like a whiny kid, but I don't care. "Do you know what you did to me? You made me care about you more than I care about myself!"

 

The confession paralyze us both.

 

"That's exactly what's wrong, Wonshik," his eyes are steely, "I want to love someone who knows himself."

 

A tear threatens to fall, but I stop it, “So you don’t love me because I don’t know what I want?” I don’t mean to sound hurt or helpless, but I’m both.

 

 

He catches my cheeks in his palms, “Don’t be stupid. I love you.”

 

I lost to him right then and there. It’s my turn to ravish his swollen lips. Just like many first times we shared, it is exhilarating helping him out of his faded t-shirt, but unlike other first times, this is killing me too. He pants against me as his hand sneaks past my waistband. Like a complete mind, we know why we want it: so that the impression of each other is imprinted so strong that it is impossible to forget me, or forget you. He would remember me whether he is in Seoul or Tokyo or Iceland or Hell. If his mind does not remember me, then his body will remember mine. Maybe even longing for mine in those lonely sleepless nights, like mine longing for his. I am inside him forever.

 

Dazed. I help him inside my T-shirt after. And he helps me wearing his. We swap every pieces of clothings we have. “Socks?” he asks. I make a face, but nod anyway. “How about your shoes? I always wanted those!” he smiles at me mischievously. All my romanticism instantly vanishes. So what we had was just some teenage stunt, huh? “Fine,” I take them off and slip my feet in his smaller shoes. My toes barely have room to wiggle. “You are leaving as soon as we slept together?” he pouts and I blush. I take his - my - shoes off and get back to the empty space besides him on the bed. My head lies against his arm. I let him watches my smooth line that defined my long face. We allow security sink in on us, until reality hits us again. “When are you leaving?” I ask quietly. “Tomorrow I’ll be on the road again,” he answers in the same whisper. “Will you be fine without me?” it doesn’t matter who asks it, we wanted to ask the same question. “No, but I will be fine eventually,” we both know that was not a lie that was made to comfort our lovers, our friends. Life will go on. Eventually.

 

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Author's Note: I ship Navi a lot, 'nuff said. 

Happy 3rd anniversary again! This is my 2nd time celebrating this cool day. <3 I'm so proud of them <3

Subscribe, comment, and upvote mean a lot to me! Please comment whether you think is mediocore or good. I really really want to make this story better

Write to you guys soon. 

P.S. I've finally made a tumblr after a year and seven month of being a Starlights. <3 Please come and fangirl with me. :)