island

Taekwoon jumps down onto the sand from the top of the playground slide, his feet graceful and light. When he stands up from his crouching position, his tail flicks ever so slightly as though demonstrating the pride that Taekwoon doesn’t vocalize. The other kids in his class run amok, their feet shuffling the sand to wad up to his sensitive nose. He sneezes and mews in annoyance, walking away from the kids to look for the teachers. He stops midway, his charcoal-colored ears twitching at the sound of a familiar laugh behind him inching closer and closer. Taekwoon continues heading the opposite direction of the laugh, his pace picking up as the laugh comes even closer.

But a kitten can’t possibly outrun a pup.

One moment Taekwoon is running and the next, he falls face-first on the hard cement, the familiar laughter ringing in his ear and a familiar weight squishing him against the cold ground.

“Where you off to, Taekwoon?”

Han Sanghyuk.

Taekwoon looks up from the cement, his nose red from the impact, and he’d rub it if his hands were free. Instead, they’re stuck under his chest so he can only lift his head and scrunch up his nose. He doesn’t bother answering.

“Are you ignoring me??”

Yes, Taekwoon wants to growl, because replying to you will make you talk more. Much to Taekwoon’s distaste, Sanghyuk merely laughs at the lack of response. Much to even bigger distaste, Sanghyuk’s stupidly fluffy tail wags, smacking Taekwoon’s feet, then shoulders, then feet, then shoulders again.

Finally, Sanghyuk gets off, but before Taekwoon can stand and make a run for it, Sanghyuk grabs Taekwoon’s tail. Taekwoon hisses immediately and turns to growl at Sanghyuk.

“You stupid dog! Let go of my tail!” Taekwoon yells, grabbing his tail from Sanghyuk’s hand.

“Should I grab your ears instead?” Sanghyuk asks, his smile wide. “Just like last time?”

Taekwoon shudders at the thought. The last time Sanghyuk tackled him, the canine opted to changing his routine of grabbing Taekwoon’s tail when he tried to escape to petting Taekwoon’s ear while he was still on the ground instead. It was a strange sensation, one that made Taekwoon feel safe and comfortable, one that made him purr and lean into Sanghyuk’s hand. Sanghyuk clearly noticed it too, since he paused and stared at Taekwoon with wide-eyes and tinted cheeks.

It’s a moment Taekwoon doesn’t want to remember because, at the thought, Taekwoon’s own cheeks become unbearably pink.

Taekwoon realizes Sanghyuk staring at him, with a grin that’s wider than before, and the smile irritates him and makes him want to crawl into a hole. Mostly to hide his warming face.

tattoo.

The computer screen flickers in the dark, but the volume is almost off, whispers of dialogue only understandable through the yellow subtitles. Wonshik’s soft snores remain the loudest sound in the room, and his calm breathing resonates with Taekwoon’s own. Taekwoon leads his hand through Wonshik’s hair and looks down at his boyfriend, peacefully sleeping against Taekwoon’s laps. Eyes following the movement of his hand, Taekwoon brushes his hand from Wonshik’s hair to his tattoos on his bare torso. Taekwoon has always been fascinated by his boyfriend’s tattoos, then in shock and now, in awe. As his fingers caress the ink scars, Taekwoon leans over and shuts his laptop close with his free hand. Then, he leans his head back against the wall with a sigh and closes his eyes as he’s lulled into sleep by Wonshik’s lullaby and soft skin.

cigarette iv: simple

It’s four in the morning, the night silent in sleep, but when Taekwoon opens the door to their apartment, the door breaks the silence like an alarm clock, like a reality check. Taekwoon’s black hair sparkles in the sparse light, covered in droplets of rain, and his shoulders are the wettest as if they have taken all the burden of the weather. He slips his coat off as he walks into the bedroom, only to find an empty bed. Taekwoon’s immediate action is to panic, then he calms his heart, trusting Wonshik won’t do anything brash. There must be a reason for his disappearance. Taekwoon hangs his coat on the chair and glances around. The cigarette pack isn’t there, where he left it. The hurt and anger come rushing back, but are stopped in their tracks when Wonshik walks into the room from the balcony.

“Taekwoon?”

And like always, it doesn’t take too long for Wonshik to read Taekwoon’s face. It takes only another few seconds to walk over to his boyfriend, brush his wet hair out of his face, and kiss him. When they let go, Taekwoon’s lips form a small ‘o.’ Wonshik hadn’t been smoking. Then what—?

“I threw the pack away.”

Oh.

cigarettes iii.

cigarettes ii.

cigarettes.

He doesn’t expect it at all, the cigarette box hidden under the side table. All he was expecting was dust piled up and maybe few, stray belongings they thought they once lost. At first glance, Taekwoon brushes it off because he doesn’t smoke and neither does Wonshik, but the image of red and white, a familiar combination of colors he loathes seeing, sticks in his mind during the entire shower. So, when he comes back out of the shower, dressed for work, he grabs the box from the ground and sighs in disbelief as he places it down on the side table. Marlboro Red. Kim Wonshik.

Later that day, when Wonshik comes home from work, Taekwoon’s pulse rises like it’s the first step of action before going into war. It’s always a war with Wonshik when it comes to smoking, a war that comes back way too often to taunt him.

“I’m home!”

Taekwoon sits up and slides his legs off the edge. He hesitates from standing, from starting this fight all over again; the repetition of it makes Taekwoon almost sick to his stomach. But he loves Wonshik, cares too much. The fight is more bearable than losing Wonshik—Taekwoon stops himself from thinking about it.

When Wonshik sees Taekwoon and the Marlboro box on the sidetable, he pauses in his steps. As quietly as possible, he places his belongings onto the floor. “Taek…”

Taekwoon stands up and turns to his boyfriend, face void. “You told me you quit.”

Wonshik walks toward Taekwoon, arms open, eyes guilty. “I did, I really did. B-But you have to understand, I’m just—it’s been a stressful month at work.”

Taekwoon leans away from Wonshik’s familiar arms, face scrunched up. “Wait, a month? You’ve been smoking for a—” He pauses, hearing his voice grow louder. After a breath, he continues. This time, his voice is low, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Wonshik hesitates because this is a question that Taekwoon wants answered, but doesn’t have a correct answer to. Still, Wonshik knows he needs to say something. “I just didn’t… I didn’t want you to stress out over this.” It’s true; he knows Taekwoon’s resentment toward smoking, how his youngest sister passed away from—

“You promised, Wonshik.” Taekwoon starts to rub his face with his hands, unaware of Wonshik’s softening expression. “I can always help you—I will always help you. You don’t need to rely on smoking to—for anything.”

“I know.”

Taekwoon looks up from his hands, unsure if he heard correctly. Wonshik normally doesn’t wave the white flag so easily, both of them too stubborn for their own good. So why?

“Your mom told me about your sister…”

The information rushes at Taekwoon. He never talks about his family because the hurt still renders him silent, and it takes a bit before Taekwoon realizes which sister he’s talking about. “Oh.”

That’s all Taekwoon can really say before falling onto the edge of the bed. He looks up at Wonshik who sits next to him.

“I’m sorry.” Wonshik brushes his fingers against Taekwoon cheek. “I’m sorry...”

sick.

As Taekwoon steps in through the front door, he hears skidding cars and gun shots from the living room. With bags of grocery in his hands, Taekwoon walks to the kitchen to put the items away. Wonshik is buried under piles of soft blankets on the sofa in the living room, with a newly opened tissue box in his lap. They don’t greet each other; there’s no need. In fact, Wonshik tries to ignore his boyfriend’s presence, hoping that maybe, just maybe, pretending Taekwoon doesn’t exist may also make the medicine disappear.

It doesn’t work. Taekwoon is too motherly for that, too I don’t care if it tastes nasty you’re taking this goddamn medicine! for Wonshik’s excuses. So when Taekwoon, after organizing in the kitchen, comes into the living room, Wonshik hides under the blankets.

Taekwoon rolls his sleeves up, completely used to a rebellious Wonshik. After finding a firm hold, Taekwoon flips the entire pile upside down, revealing Wonshik’s red face, distorted into absolute disgust.

“Stop being such a kid!” Taekwoon yells, reaching for the bottle of cough syrup he had put down to grab his boyfriend.

“Stop being an ass!”

Taekwoon ignores Wonshik and, with the bottle in his hand, successfully sits on top of Wonshik and the piles of blanket.

“Jung Taekwoon, this is abuse! I’m going to file—!”

mornings.

The sound of the water running wakes Taekwoon up. It’s an uncommon noise this early in the day, especially because it’s not him making the noise. When he fully opens his eyes, Taekwoon realizes that his boyfriend is already in the shower. Weird. He has a nightshift today, which means Wonshik is supposed to wake up in the late afternoon. Taekwoon sits up, hair completely disheveled, and throws his legs off the bed and walks over to the bathroom with a soft patter. The water noise stops when he’s in front of the bathroom door, and Taekwoon knocks, waiting for his boyfriend’s reply. When there’s a deep voice greeting him, Taekwoon turns the knob and walks in, immediately hit with a wave of mist, the humidity almost waking him up completely—almost—before he notices a glowing, wet Wonshik with only a towel covering him. It’s a gift to see a half-naked Wonshik so early in the morning and makes Taekwoon want to immediately walk over to his boyfriend. Which he does.

Wonshik welcomes him with a good morning as he moisturizes his face. Taekwoon hums in reply, like always, and snakes his arms from the back. They both stare into the mirror and smile. The comparison between them is beyond unusual; a sleepy, disheveled Taekwoon and a fully-awake, just-out-of-the-shower Wonshik is something they rarely see.

“I got a call earlier,” Wonshik starts, as he pats the rest of the lotion onto his face. “Nightshift became double shift today.”

Taekwoon frowns, a cat-like pout that leaves Wonshik breathless every time. He turns in Taekwoon’s arms and brings his own arms around his boyfriend. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he reassures.

lullaby.

For a while, Taekwoon struggles to fall asleep, the accumulated stress a burden on his mind. He lies on his back in their bed, listening to Wonshik’s light snores like they are his lullaby.

In the beginning of their relationship, Wonshik’s snores were hard to get used to. But now, it makes Taekwoon think about his boyfriend before they fall asleep, a sense of safety and comfort pulling him into sleep, and the memories they shared so far come reeling in. At the thoughts, Taekwoon turns to his boyfriend’s sleeping body, wrapping his arms around Wonshik’s torso. It gently wakes Wonshik, and with a soft mumble, turns around to wrap his own arms around Taekwoon.

“Can’t sleep?”

Taekwoon kisses the top of Wonshik’s head and hums in reply.

“I’m okay.” Because he really is.

movie night.

Ken really isn’t one for violence. Jaehwan is a bit different. Especially when Jung Taekwoon acts so damn cute, it becomes extra hard for Jaehwan to not do anything about it.  

Their Elysium concert is one of those rare instances when Jaehwan breaks through Ken’s façade.

After being asked to do a certain girl group dance move, Taekwoon does so after quite a bit of hesitation. Then, when he suddenly pulls Jaehwan by his arm to fucking hide behind him, Ken’s face falters and for a moment, his professionalism is thrown out the window. Jaehwan’s body and mind is lit ablaze at the mere touch and—fuck. He’s in the middle of a fucking concert; he can’t be getting—fuck.

Lee Jaehwan makes a mental note of this for later, when the concert is over.

-----

He’s been trying to hold back this entire time and as soon as the concert ends and everyone heads to the back, Jaehwan’s rare act of violence explodes. He, along with Taekwoon, are the last ones to leave the stage. Thank God because he’s unwilling to hold it back any further—screw the end-of-the-concert meeting—and he does what Taekwoon had done to him on that stage.

The elder’s arm is slim, fits snuggly in Jaehwan’s hand, and their legs are taking them into a dark corner behind the stage.

“Lee Jaehwan,” Taekwoon calls out. His uselessly long legs tangle up in the midst of Jaehwan’s sudden outburst of strength, so he trips but is held upright by Jaehwan’s strong grip. For a second, Taekwoon is filled with awe; all the muscle training Jaehwan has struggled through over the last few months has done him justice.

“Hyung,” Jaehwan breathes out, the warmth of his breath clouding his vision. Just the mere thought of what he wants to do to Jung Taekwoon excites him, his pants growing uncomfortable, tight. “Fuck, Jung Taekwoon.” He’s almost panting for air, as if all the oxygen around him has shriveled up into nothing, and he stop in the corner, swinging the older boy in front of him and slamming him against the wall. Taekwoon twitches at the pain, Jaehwan notices. Good, fucking deserves it.

By now, Taekwoon is aware of Jaehwan’s condition. They’re still at their concert venue with a high possibility that their fans are on the other side of the wall he’s held against, Taekwoon notes to himself. Not to mention, they are supposed to be meeting up with the staff and members to celebrate the end of their concert but it seems like Jaehwan doesn’t care at all. Jaehwan’s current state is a rarity—he’s never the one to initiate anything—and Taekwoon has no idea why he’s like this, especially now.

“Lee Jaehwan,” Taekwoon repeats, trying to be stern, but it merely comes out as a soft breath against the younger’s neck, and it’s a mistake that Taekwoon immediately regrets. He can feel Jaehwan’s hardened member against his thigh and doesn’t think there’s any way of stopping Jaehwan now. Taekwoon hears a low growl from Jaehwan’s throat, affecting Taekwoon in ways he’s only felt in bed.

“Who told you you can do that?” Jaehwan breathes. Taekwoon hears anger and annoyance, but mostly, the desire.

“Do what?”

“Fucking seduce me during a concert.”

Jaehwan doesn’t wait for an answer to his rhetorical question as he smashes his lips against Taekwoon’s. The urgency is almost palpable; even more so when Jaehwan’s tongue shoots in as soon as their lips part. Their tongues wrestle for dominance, easily won by the younger, and a soft mewl escapes Taekwoon. The soft noise sends electricity through Jaehwan’s body, but the thing that throws him into complete mental chaos is Taekwoon’s member. He can feel the elder’s cock being affected, hard and twitching, and he smirks at how easy Jung Taekwoon is.

Taekwoon doesn’t know when it started but Jaehwan is grinding against him now, lips still locked in an unbalanced dominance. His own body, like muscle memory, is following the same rhythm. He knows that the other is aware of his desperation; he wants to let it out, wants the younger to fucking touch him already.

"Stop fucking teasing,” Taekwoon pants as he unlocks their lips. His shaky fingers fumble around before finally unzipping Jaehwan’s pants.

Jaehwan notes the elder’s flushed face, his heaving chest, and decides it’s enough. He can’t handle it anymore either. So he unzips Taekwoon’s pants—fucking skinny jeans—and pulls down the boxers with it. Jaehwan’s long fingers brush the surface of Taekwoon’s hips when he does, but that’s all he needs to do; Jaehwan feels Taekwoon shiver. In response, Jaehwan lightly brushes Taekwoon’s cock, and the elder’s already bucking towards his hand, the lightest touch getting him needy. This only makes Jaehwan want to hold back and tease the living daylights out of him, but Jaehwan has his own needs that he wants to satisfy.

At the cold air’s embrace, the only heat coming from the other, it feels as though their sensitivity is heightened. Jaehwan knows Taekwoon feels it too, and not wanting to let it go to waste, he sticks two fingers into Taekwoon’s mouth and immediately, his tongue proceeds to taste every part of his fingers. His smirk comes back as he pulls his wet fingers out and moves them down to his other entrance.

Without a warning, he enters and the expression on Taekwoon’s face is enough for him to start moving. It doesn’t seem to be enough for Taekwoon, though, as he whines and spreads his legs a little bit farther.

“Please,” Taekwoon moans.

“Say my name,” he demands softly as Jaehwan curls his fingers inside him.

“L-Lee Jaehwan, fucking put it in.”

A soft chuckle escapes him as he takes out his fingers and maneuvers himself for better entrance. Jaehwan’s cock goes in one sharp movement and—ah, fuck.

Taekwoon’s muscles tightens as Jaehwan thrusts slowly at first, then faster, deeper. Their hips rock in one smooth pace, their breaths in rhythmic unison. The exhaustion from the concert remains forgotten.

“Who,” Jaehwan hisses as he thrusts himself in deeper, rougher, “told you—to act so—ah—”

Taekwoon’s arms, once firmly grasping Jaehwan’s shoulders for support, starts to lose their grip, and his legs buckle at each thrust, but Jaehwan holds him up, one arm snaked around the arch of his back and the other bracing their weight against the wall. As though showing gratitude for holding him up, Taekwoon reaches over and nibbles at Jaehwan’s ear, occasionally letting out a soft moan. It only sends more waves of desire through Jaehwan’s spines before his speed reaches its climax.

They come nearly at the same time, bodies gradually coming to a sweet lull. Once Jaehwan pulls himself free, he grins at the other, wiping the sweat from Taekwoon’s forehead and flushed cheeks. Taekwoon’s mouth opens, probably to complain about the suddenness of all this, but before he can say even one word, Jaehwan places a light peck on Taekwoon’s pink lips, every ounce of violence gone. Not that he was ever really violent anyways.

“This is what you get for being so fucking cute, Jung Taekwoon.”

Taekwoon needed his daily dose of coffee, preferably iced and unsweetened. It was a habitual thing, going to the small cafe down the street of his home every single morning, and it was somewhat of a mystery how Taekwoon, a diligent and unsocial university student who rarely had time for leisure activities, was able to find such a nice cafe like this.

The said cafe was rather small, often gone unnoticed by pedestrians and drivers alike. Yet, the building was always lively, filled with customers that seemed to have an addiction to the cafe's food and drinks. Despite the animated aura in the cafe, Taekwoon never lingered inside. He ordered his much needed caffeine and left as soon as he received his drink. He never paid attention to the other customers and he definitely didn't take notice of any of the staff working in the cafe. (Despite being a customer over a year now, Taekwoon was still unable to recognize any of the workers.) The lack of attention seemed mutual so there didn’t seem to be any problem at all. It was a quiet, and very quick, in-out sequence, and Taekwoon didn't really mind.

It was hot and humid like most South Korean summers, and Taekwoon had a class to get to. He had woken up a little too late that morning, but the need for caffeine had been too strong to ignore. So, desperation his fuel, he jogged over to the cafe, ordered his usual, and was ready to get his drink and run to his class when he realized he had left his wallet at home amidst the morning chaos. He groaned, patted his pockets just in case, and groaned again.

His eyes glazed with embarrassment, Taekwoon opened his mouth to cancel the order, only to shut it at the sight of the cashier's friendly smile. "It's on the house."

Taekwoon blinked in confusion. "Sorry?"

"Take the drink; I got it," repeated the cashier. Before Taekwoon was able to decline the offer, the cashier grinned and placed Taekwoon's drink on the counter. "Enjoy!"

"I- Thank you," Taekwoon stuttered, unable to fully comprehend the oddity of the situation. Instead of doing what he always did (which was ignoring the people around him), he paused and examined the cashier. The most noticeable features were the boy's sun-kissed skin, the way his heart-shaped lips twitched into a smile, and how his fierce yet gentle eyes seemed to take in all the details around him. On his chest, on top of where his heart would be, was a name tag that read, Cha Hakyeon. Taekwoon nodded, hoping the simple gesture would be understood correctly as a gesture of gratitude and valediction. Grabbing the drink, he started to walk to the door and looked at the cup in his hand. Where his name should have been, a messy writing sat in its place: The handsome frequent customer.

Sanghyuk wakes up to a loud noise in the middle of the night. He groans because what the fuck he was trying to get some sleep for the movie filming tomorrow. The noise doesn’t repeat, though, so Sanghyuk turns in his bed to sleep again, only to jump in surprise at the same noise. He sits up, groaning once again, and lazily drags his feet over his bed. He pushes the palms of his hands into his eyes and pushes himself off the bed. The clock on his wall reads two-something and Sanghyuk wants to punch the clock for reminding him that he is not allowed his sleep.

Carefully yet sluggishly, so he doesn’t wake Jaehwan up, Sanghyuk heads out the door to their room and goes straight into the kitchen for a glass of milk. His thirst quenched, he starts heading back to his own room.

Bang!

The singer flinches and turns his head toward the noise. It’s coming from one of the rooms, he realizes, and for a second, he freezes in place. Robbery? A crazy fan? He starts to worry, but he’s Han Sanghyuk, the bravest soul of VIXX and the strongest, so he should check it out, right? Better now than later.

He tiptoes toward the source of the noise and bites his lip. There’s light shuffling now and oh fuck, is someone going through their stuff? No, he tries to reassure himself, it’s probably one of the members making a ruckus.

Ah, but it’s the two oldest’s room. They wouldn’t be moving about in the dead of the night; they needed their beauty sleep for the elderly, after all. Sanghyuk chuckles at his own thought and shakes his head. He needs to focus on the potential danger in their room.

Sanghyuk softly places his hand on the doorknob and turns it, making sure to be as silent as possible. When the door is open enough, he peaks through and searches the room with his eyes. He frowns at the sight. Nothing.

He pushes the door fully open and he looks throughout the room. He laughs loudly but quickly covers his mouth to muffle the noise.

Hakyeon is half on and half off the bed, his arms clutching onto Taekwoon’s torso for dear life while Taekwoon tries to pry the other off in his sleep. In fact, Sanghyuk notices as he steps closer to the sleeping bodies, they’re both asleep, both wearing a distressed expression. Sanghyuk steps back when Hakyeon starts to climb onto the bed and fully envelop Taekwoon in his arms. For a while it’s silent until Taekwoon starts to stick out his arms and push and kick Hakyeon off of him.

The older singer falls completely off the bed.

Sanghyuk can’t hold it in now and giggles at the sight of the eldest members of VIXX. Hakyeon groans and, still asleep, crawls onto the bed, stopping half way again, with his arms patting the mattress for the other sleeping member.

hakyeon starts to see his lover’s back more often these days. the silhouette of his lover’s broad shoulders has once been a part hakyeon loved to trace with his brown eyes, but now, it only gives him the sharp pain in his left chest.

the door has become the majority of the noise made in their tiny apartment. the conversations they once had have slowly disintegrated into short and brief grunts and replies. now, hakyeon notices, the front door is opened and closed more frequently and the noise that once made him excited for his lover’s arrival only makes hakyeon flinch in pain.

the love they made has become mere physical touches. now, hakyeon feels like they are only doing it to satisfy their selfish desires. hakyeon feels dirty, used, unwanted.

but he is cha hakyeon and his love is strong and stable.

after all, jung taekwoon is the world to him.

so, hakyeon musters up the courage (and gains support from his best friend) to speak up one night after taekwoon comes home.

“taek-ah,” he starts carefully, watching from the bedroom door as his lover tosses his briefcase on the bed and strips off his top half of his clothes. hakyeon gulps at the sight because no matter how much time they have spent together, hakyeon cannot help but feel chills running up his spine from seeing a nude (even if it’s semi-nude) jung taekwoon. “t-taekwoon, we need to talk.”

all hakyeon gets is a muffled grunt and a disappeared head. as taekwoon pulls the last layer of shirts over his head, hakyeon inwardly pushes himself to step closer to his beloved. seeing taekwoon struggle in his sweaty, tight undershirt, hakyeon takes the liberty of bringing his hands up and helping the struggling man. when taekwoon’s head plops out of the white clothing, taekwoon grunts and kisses hakyeon’s hair-covered forehead. hakyeon smiles because it has been so damn long since he last touched him with even the slightest warmth.

“w-we can talk later,” hakyeon says with a shy smile. “you should take a shower first.”

hakyeon silently watches as his lover heads to the bathroom without another affirmation of hakyeon’s existence.

they do not speak to one another for the rest of the night.

—————

his mouth dries and his heartbeat quickens. the hold on his cellphone becomes weak, frail — just like his resolution. he swallows thickly.

“hello? you still there?”

hakyeon blinks and forces a smile (because it’s obvious to his best friend what expression hakyeon has even through a phone call). “yeah, sorry, wonshik. i’m here.”

“i’m really sorry to be the one telling you this. i though it’d be better — ”

“no—i mean, yes, you were right. thank you, i appreciate you telling me…” hakyeon pauses, his mind hazy with shock and disbelief.

“hey, where are you? let me go over there,” wonshik offers through the phone. hakyeon hears ruffling in the background and knows for a fact that his friend is getting ready to come to him. he’s grateful to have such a friend, but what he needs now isn’t his best friend, but his boyfriend.

“no, it’s okay. thank you, won-ah, but i think i should talk to taekwoon about this first. there might be a… a misunderstanding or something. i-i want to give him the benefit of the doubt.” even hakyeon knows it’s unlikely for wonshik, the ever so observant and reasonable man to misread any kind of situation, but hakyeon loves taekwoon and before anything, he needs to trust his lover.

“…cha hakyeon.”

“i love him, wonshik. i—i love him so fucking much. i can’t just...”

“…i know, hakyeon, i know.” wonshik says softly, ending hakyeon’s rambling. he sighs, and hakyeon can imagine him running his hand over his hair, like he always does when he is distressed. “just promise me you won’t blindly forgive him, okay? promise me.”

“okay, i promise.”

—————

it’s dark, the sun asleep and leaving behind the moon in its trail. inside the apartment, hakyeon sits on the couch in the dark, the only source of light coming from the moonlight outside and the small yellow bulb from the dining room. his knees tucked to his chest, he nibbles on his thumb, waiting for taekwoon to arrive home.

he isn’t sure how long he has been sitting there, but the moonlight is on the verge of disappearing when hakyeon hears the door to the apartment open and spots taekwoon coming in with his peripheral vision. he also catches taekwoon’s surprised expression, but he speaks not of it.

“…yeon-ah,” taekwoon mutters. he drops whatever is in his hand and takes off his shoes before fully entering and sitting on the couch, an awkward distance away from hakyeon.

three weeks. for three weeks hakyeon writhed in worry, pain, and insecurity, unsure if he was supposed to trust his best friend or his boyfriend. three weeks of blind loyalty and trust.

but three weeks is not enough to risk the five-year relationship they have kept running so smoothly.

hakyeon does not look at his boyfriend’s face, afraid that once he does, he will do nothing but become a manifestation of his breaking heart.

“sleep,” offers the younger, grabbing hakyeon’s hand. hakyeon allows himself to be pulled up, but once on his feet, something ticks inside him, and faster than his mind can completely comprehend, hakyeon is kissing taekwoon with all the lust and anger and love and desperation. their lips move together and hakyeon starts moving his body in a smooth, seductive flow like the dancer he is (because hakyeon knows what taekwoon likes and is very willing to give it to him). his hands explore every nook and cranny of taekwoon’s once claimed body, ignoring the smell of alcohol emitting from him. taekwoon doesn’t respond for a while, but when he eventually does, they’re already inside the bedroom, pieces of clothing a trail toward their sanctuary.

—————

hakyeon wakes up to an empty bed, his lower body sore and his upper body cold. in entirety, he feels dirty and soiled. yet, he is somewhat hopeful that taekwoon would be outside in the kitchen, making hakyeon breakfast like he once did. with hope as his energizer, hakyeon quietly steps outside.

“taekwoon?” he calls out, taking small steps (because damn it, taekwoon was so rough) to the kitchen. he is met with silence and a empty room, and at that moment, the hope crushes down, reality sits, and hakyeon can feel a large part of him being torn away and destroyed. it’s a struggle to stay standing; it is a struggle he loses to.

—————

it’s saturday night, the hour hand nearing twelve. the entire day was spent with his best friend wonshik, but in retrospect, hakyeon knows it was an attempt to distract himself from reality. his mind is frantic, worried, and insecure, and finally, after all this time trying to turn the other cheek, hakyeon breaks.

the hour hand finally lands on twelve. hakyeon disregards the clock’s chime and runs out the door in a shirt and sweats. the autumn crisp can’t compare to the cold of the bed, after all.

hakyeon hates the fact that he checks their special bar first. it is the place they first met and where they had their first date and where hakyeon realized he was in love. just in case, he decides to stop here. there is a lingering hope that taekwoon will be here, alone, reminiscing the times with hakyeon. he hopes there is no one else with him to replace the memories of him.

hakyeon enters through the opaque glass doors and immediately he is bombarded with loud music bursting through the speakers on the stage. a drunken man is up there slurring the lyrics to some trendy pop song but he’s enjoying himself like other people in the bar. hakyeon wishes he is up there with taekwoon again, singing songs and enjoying each other’s presence. instead, he looks away from the karaoke stage and heads straight to the bar, weaving through the crowd. as soon as he breaks through the crowd with his arms, he spots taekwoon.

he’s there with another man and they’re close – so fucking close. their legs keep brushing against each other and the expression taekwoon is making—hakyeon has seen that look before. it’s the look that he fell in love: the soft, glazed gaze and that adoring smile gracing his small lips. he has seen it before, but it has once been directed at him.

hakyeon’s arms drop to his side and his sight becomes hazy. he loses focus and his mind fogs. there’s an uncomfortable feeling within his stomach and he hates it.

when his mind starts clearing up, the only thing he can register is taekwoon’s face. it lights up tremendously and his smile is bigger than hakyeon has seen within the last several months. taekwoon’s lips move. the other man’s face brightens, too, just like taekwoon’s have, and his lips form the same shapes taekwoon’s have.

hakyeon shakes his head. ‘no, no, no…’ his feet slowly step closer to his beloved. he can feel the wetness of his cheeks now and it doesn’t stop even when the other man turns to look at him.

the other man’s face darkens and hakyeon can see the distraught and guilt but it doesn’t help soothe the pain. in fact, hakyeon revels in the man’s guilt, wanting it to grow and grow until he can’t take it.

instead, it’s hakyeon who can’t take it. taekwoon turns toward hakyeon, his face blank (or maybe hakyeon just can't read it).

he’s standing next to them now and reality hits harder as if the closeness is preventing him from denial. “taek…” his voice sounds like the drunken man’s. it’s slurred, weak, incoherent, breaking up.

“taek, why…”

taekwoon opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again.

tears roll down hakyeon's cheeks and he loudly sobs, ashamed for being so weak in front of the man he loves. he swallows. “why didn’t you… why are you… i loved you–i still do. please don’t…”

taekwoon brings a hand up but drops it. the other man bites his lips and hakyeon wants to smack them; what right did he have to be sad? instead, he continues, “why didn’t you just break up before—” hakyeon has to pause to swallow a sob “before this?”

again, taekwoon replies with silence and looks away from hakyeon.

the silence is overbearing and hakyeon curses it—curses him.

“say something!”

taekwoon looks back up at hakyeon and flinches almost unnoticeably. hakyeon catches it—years together helps him read taekwoon’s body language.

“say something, damn it! do you know how long it has been since you—you haven’t said ‘i love you’ in so long, taekwoon… why couldn’t you just say something—anything? why couldn’t you break my heart instead of completely destroying it?! why… why…"