sweetness.

( ✄ )

is he really willing to say this?

he takes a look at yangyang.

…

yeah. yeah, he is.

“we still can.”

    cue the sensation that feels akin to butterflies being set free in the pit of his stomach,  and yangyang realizes he doesn’t know what he expected to hear going into this get together today,  if he would get what he came here for.  though,  that begs the question what did he come here for,  what expectations arose inside him as he agreed to see renjun and then when he finally actually laid eyes on him?  

    perhaps very little,  but the answer feels closer to something more heavy  --  maybe some growing sense of validation.  every time renjun’s mouth forms the words he’s longed to hear,  i miss you too,  his lips perk up despite the sentiment behind the other’s words,  kept soft as he listens but unable to push down entirely.  he squeezes renjun’s hand a little tighter,  but remains silent as he continues to speak,  giving him time to process and express the thoughts present on his mind. 

     besides,  this is what he’s been waiting for,  a chance to understand the scope of renjun’s thoughts since they bid a reluctant goodbye.  it’s an opportunity he refuses to interrupt. 

    he takes a moment after it seems renjun’s finished,  nodding slowly and processing his words.  for a second,  he wonders what it might’ve been like,  if they had approached the whole situation differently,  with innocent and genuine intentions of getting together out of a sense of compatibility and desire instead of a game that was bound to go awry in the end.  

    would he and renjun still be together?  would they have been happier?  satisfied with the path life put them upon,  with the absence of foolishness to bring naive concoctions to light? 

    a part of him wonders if everything does happen for a reason  --  as he feels renjun’s warmth in his hands,  he can’t bring himself to declare it only woes regardless,  because at least he can say with a full heart he will never regret loving renjun.

    “yeah,”  he says finally,  nodding again as he locks eyes again.  the smile grows in nature as he repeats himself,  “yeah,  that’s fair.  i agree.  maybe we didn’t go about it in the right way,  but we got some good memories out of it too,  right?  things i’ll never forget,  that’s gotta be worth something.”

    a glimmer of hope that has expanded the longer they talk encompasses his insides,  like an ever-growing warmth encasing the gloom he’s dramatically accepted as a part of himself.  everything about yangyang can often be associated with the very concept of theatrical,  over-the-top reactions and responses,  but the loss of renjun’s friendship is a loss that resonated since the moment they distanced themselves,  something he’s craved to find once more over the idea of his hurt feelings getting in the way of being with someone he’s appreciated for as long as he has. 

    he can’t imagine a life without renjun. 

    “i’m glad though,”  he starts slowly,  after a moment of contemplative silence,  “that you don’t regret it either.  for a while . . . i wondered? if you just considered it all a big mistake.”  he shrugs casually,  sheepish chuckle on his lips,  and he feels a twinge of embarrassment for whatever reason,  looking towards the playground again in search of something mundane to fix his eyes on. 

    “maybe staying friends is the best decision,  at least for now?  but i’m not losing you again,  renjun,  no way.”  he nods,  both serious and a hint of amusement in his actions now,  with the worst of it over,  things finally feeling like they could settle down substantially.  “besides,  you’ve basically given me your blessings to be as much of an annoying shit as i wanna be.”  cue a look here kun once described as something on the brink of demonic  --  he lets the grin sit,  swallowing back a giggle.

    he and renjun would be okay.

    “and then maybe later,”  gradually,  as he looks towards renjun again to share the spark of hope that blossoms ever so much inside him,  “we can see where things go.”

“i don’t know about this…” yujin squints into the dark alleyway as the sound of a distant car honks somewhere down the road. she’s stood to the side of the entrance with arms crossed, but foot tapping anxiously. “i mean, it might be leading us to treasure…but it’s an alley…” and she turns to her companion to study his expression, even if the dim lighting makes it hard to make out his features.

danger sensors are going off in her head, but so are her cuteness sensors as she remembers just now cute the cat had been—a pretty tabby with a bright red collar around its neck. it’s obviously been brushed and fed often, so it couldn’t be all that bad, right? worst case scenario, it’s still just humans and not some eldritch horror just waiting to eat dumb kids like them…though the more she thinks about it, the more likely that is the case. even better.

“you sure about this?” yangyang’s the older one here. he can make the decision responsibly, right? she sure hopes so, or he really owes her another dinner. “we gotta decide like right now or the kitty will get away.”

        he knows it’ll probably be his downfall,  a weakness easily exploited if one wanted.  his penchant for all things cute and downright adorable,  the sight of the tabby cat in all its graceful had done its job stirring its heart,  but it’s his thirst for adventure that is called into question here.  the entry to the alley is no doubt questionable,  but he slowly grins as a meow echoes from the other side.  “trust me,”  he starts off,  in a tone that was clearly not to be trusted,  “i know what i’m doing.”

       a blatant lie,  perhaps one he can get away with as his lips continue to stretches in a way he hopes comes off innocently enough,  offering a cheery thumbs up in the other’s direction before motioning towards the alleyway.  yangyang’s never been one for caution,  senses prioritizing his wants and desires over thinking things through and choosing the best course of plan  --  and all his thoughts are telling him right now are to follow that cat.

       he starts them off,  slowly walking in and gesturing once again for yujin to follow him.  he sees something scurry in front of them,  and exclaims “i think i found it!” before quickly following up with “nope nope nope,  that’s not a cat,”  and breaks into a little run as he makes for the exit.  it’s a second before he thinks to stop for his companion,  and halts a few feet away from the daylight in front of them,  looking back at the other.  a feline cat pops around the corner,  as if taunting them,  and yangyang turns back just in time to see it,  narrowing his eyes.  

(  ✄  )

“this— that isn’t your fault,” he manages to force out, fists clenched tightly on his lap. “it’s never been your fault,” it slips out as he’s overwhelmed with thoughts and the desire to pull yangyang into his arms. “i—…i’m s-sorry. it’s me. i was the one who…messed everything up. i didn’t know how to handle…i couldn't—” his breathing comes out short and harsh, his throat clenching with each word that leaves his lips. he wants to tell yangyang everything—it’s too late to take any of it back now, but as his sight blurs with tears forming in his eyes, he finds himself feeling so painfully lonely.

“i’m sorry for everything.”

i’m sorry for falling in love.

     he wonders if it’d be too forward of him to reach out and take renjun’s hand with his,  in hopes of offering any form of comfort he can to the other.  whether or not he finds himself yearning for something that was never truly his,  yangyang feels an ache as he watches the other try to offer an apology for something he’s never really blamed him for. 

     the words escape him,  however,  in hopes of extending an enlightening conclusion to the ill feelings between them  --  if one could even call it that.  he searches for the right way to explain that sure,  renjun was the one to break it off and it still hurts,  but wasn’t that the plan from the start?  to see where things could go,  help renjun get over the longing he feels for another,  for one whose heart already belonged to another?

     and so,  he reaches out anyways,  hand settling on renjun’s knee and patting it softly.  it’s much more subdued than his usual affection,  but in the moment,  it’s all he feels he can offer,  all he can start with.  a soft smile grows ever slowly on his lips as works through renjun’s words.  “thank you,”  he says,  eventually,  and allows the slightly satisfying feeling engulf him.

     yangyang would compare their relationship to a contract,  at least when looking back upon it with a sense of certain detachment ever present.  they both went into a consensus on the idea of dating to see if renjun could forget the other already on his heart,  yangyang giving his consent to be the other party.  it all bubbles down to one point  --  he agreed.  maybe he’d been too optimistic in the moment,  but he had ulterior motives going in as well,  hopes that in the end,  renjun could settle for someone as hopeless as him.

     clearly,  things didn’t quite work out that way,  but what does yangyang have to complain about?  he agreed to the terms and signed away his heart,  and renjun did what he had to do in return.  that’s all,  the end of the line,  simple as can be.  

     “i’m sorry too,”  he begins,  slowly,  and his smile turns slightly bitter,  “maybe i shouldn’t have pushed for us to date in the first place.  should’ve  --  i don’t know  --  encouraged you to come to terms with your feelings on your own instead of making this . . . big mess.”

     the art of actually moving on fares differently.

     “but,”  slight hesitate mares his tone,  and he swallows back the feeling,  “i don’t regret anything.  maybe that’s a little selfish,  haha?  but i don’t.  y’know,  renjun,  i liked you before we even started dating,  and i still like you now.  i don’t know what it’s like not to have these feelings for you because they’ve all i’ve known for a long time now and i don’t think that’ll change any time soon.”

      they say take a deep breath and then follow it with a great big leap of faith  --  he’s leaping before he’s even processed it entirely,  but there’s no regret in his tone,  confidence in words he’s been wanting to say for months now.

( . . . )

“i miss you too.”

he has no excuse for the way the words slip out, but they surprise him just as much as seeing yangyang looking straight at him when he finally lifts his head.

“wait i— i…” he stammers, hands trembling now as he’s unable to look away from yangyang. “i didn’t…i'm—” the words won’t come out, as if his heart doesn’t want him to take it back. no more of this.

      despite everything that went down,  he refuses to believe at least a part of renjun didn’t come to love him  --  is that his ever-present naivety shining through,  the one he claims to have had shaken off?  maybe so.

      nevertheless,  if anything,  he’s sure renjun loves him platonically at the very least,  for the other hadn’t been simply his boyfriend at the time but had grown to become his best friend,  someone he could lean on whenever the going got tough.  he was there for him in ways others hadn’t,  and for that,  he remains forever grateful for both him and their pass at a relationship.   

      which is why when renjun tells him he misses him,  he tells himself he shouldn’t be as surprised as he feels  --  shouldn’t let hope encompass his heart the way it does.  a friendship that would never fade forged in their time together,  that’s all he was referring to.

      yangyang swallows back on the lump in his throat,  and for a moment,  he thinks this meet up was a mistake. 

      entirely a mistake. 

      so why do his lips threaten to smile once he registers the words,  held back by pure willpower alone?  why does a warmth blossom and travel within his chest when he processes the subdued confession,  just barely holding himself back from reaching out and shaking renjun by the shoulders? 

      because  ‘if you miss me,  then why won’t you talk to me?’

      yeah,  it’s all a little complicated,  but he’s aware reacting like a child won’t do him any favours here.  renjun made his decision,  and he should respect that,  will respect that. so instead yangyang lets himself have that sigh of quiet relief as he turns around to look at his hands,  clenching them into fists.  he doesn’t hold back the smile this time,  letting the corners of his lips rise momentarily,  before looking back. 

      “do you mean it?”  his voice is quiet,  but his gaze grows intense by the passing seconds,  the taste of a plea on his tongue in anticipation to be interlocked with his next words.  “do you really miss me?”

      it’s not like he was fair to renjun either.  truth can be a fickle thing,  and in this instance,  yangyang can’t argue his fault in the matter,  how unfair it all feels despite the fact he willingly signed up for the experience.  is it renjun’s fault he wore his heart on his sleeve,  all while knowing the other’s heart could never be his,  and hoping for so much back in return?  

      is it renjun’s fault yangyang fell in love?

renjun doesn’t want to be here.

he’s promised himself not to meet up with yangyang after the breakup. he says it’s so yangyang can hate him without regrets, but that’s only half of it. renjun’s doing it to protect himself too, from the choking sensation in his throat whenever he thinks of all the mistakes he’s made. all the mistakes he’s made that have led up to this moment, sat next to the person he loves with all his heart as nothing but a stranger—an outsider.

he says nothing in return, keeping his eyes locked onto the horizon. the trees sway in the wind and the sound of rustling leaves muffle the beating of his heart. he can’t bear to look at yangyang, as much as it’s what he deserves. he deserves some closure, an explanation—anything more than what renjun’s given. 

but renjun is a coward.

“life’s been fine,” he lies through his teeth, voice almost a whisper. he can’t have yangyang thinking he’s made a mistake in accepting the break up, however much renjun wants to melt into the soil beneath them. he can’t know about nights renjun’s stayed up staring into the ceiling as tears formed, but refused to fall. he feels like he’s being over-dramatic, thinking this is what it’s like to be better off dead, but in the zombie-like state he’s been wandering around in…is it that far-fetched? he knows he’ll heal with time, he knows that much, but just how long is it going to take?

how long does he have to pretend he doesn’t love h i m anymore?

“what about you?”

       in the moment,  yangyang has to wonder when he became so dramatic.

       that's what this whole meeting is really about,  isn't it?  to soothe the dramatics of his heart unearthed thanks to feelings that won't fade and the quenching need to ask the other why he couldn't love him back.

       god,  love.  

       it feels like teenage angst,  is sure that's exactly what his mom would tell him it is if he actually got around to telling her what was on his heart like she asked in her weekly calls,  sensing something in his voice but not knowing enough about his life to actually inquire.  he hasn't told her renjun broke up with him,  that he was more than attached to a relationship that was doomed from the start, and him ever since reluctant to see the truth for what it was.  

       yet,  despite how theatrical the whole feelings portion of his life may be,  he supposes he can't entirely deny how it's been an experience he perhaps needed.  

       naive going in,  he's grown to some degree,  realizing he can't make people feel what he wants them to,  can't make someone love or appreciate him the way he craves they would.  okay,  maybe it's a simple lesson he should've known from the beginning,  simplistic in nature and dependent upon common sense but he'll thank renjun for that.  he's made an impact on his life that he can't deny,  won't deny.

       he watches as a swing moves back and forth,  gently urged forward and back by the wind,  and wishes for a moment he could be on it.

       how's life been for him?  a question he has sit there and ponder.  "mundane,"  he says,  eventually,  eyes squinting slightly as an indicator he's thinking about it.  he expected it to change more,  maybe,  but he woke up the day after the breakup and jeno greeted him good morning and took him on a run.  he came home and played his games on his phone so he wouldn't be tempted to call a number he has memorized by heart now and ask the questions that plagued him the night before.

       his days go on like that.  he keeps himself busy and life doesn't stop for matters of the heart,  of course it doesn't.  "it is what it is.  good,  fine,  healthy.   life is well."  

       god,  it's so inherently awkward and he despises himself for it,  rubbing his palms against his knees and sending a prayer for the strength to conjure up some of the charisma he’s supposed to have an abundance of.  he's starting to realize he got so caught up in the fact renjun agreed to meet up at all that he has no idea what to even say to the other,  how to approach whatever this was. 

( ... )

the sun’s not as shy as it was thirty, forty minutes ago when they first departed from their home, hues of orange and yellow creeping up and over the horizon, a startling mix of blues and pinks clinging to the drooping night sky. it’s probably not the time or the place for any sort of conversation that requires real, sincere thinking, but there’s a bench in the distance if talking and running don’t fall under the reasonable multitasking category.

“ hey, ” jeno starts, gaze still fixed on the path before him, “ what are your plans for the future? ”

a pause.

“ oh man, i just sounded like my dad… ”

       yangyang immediately breaks out a groan,  head falling to show the reluctance towards the idea of yet another early morning jog the following day  --  and yet,  he’d be lying if he said he really minded.  

      “you’re going to be the death of me,  lee.”

      see,   jeno’s always been the exception,  always will be the exception,  for within a life of misery and doubts,  jeno is the silver lining,  the very essence of yangyang’s faith in the world,  an essential part to how he’s able to wake up in the mornings and pull himself out of bed.  

      it feels like an exaggeration,  might seem that way to any outsiders peering into the friendship they’ve maintained over the years,  but he wouldn’t take back the words,  not when they were bound by a simple truth  --  jeno was there for him when no one else was.  

      a cliche,  sure,  alright,  maybe,  but it makes itself apparent within the memories of moving to seoul without family to lean back on,  the taste of loss like copper on his tongue,  stuck in a foreign environment with no salvation in sight.  that’s when the warmth begins to blossom within reminiscence,  that jeno and his parents gave him so much,  gave him everything,  making themselves a permanent fixture within his lonely heart. 

      so if jeno wants something,  who is yangyang to say no?

       besides,  despite how much he can try to deny it,  he can’t really complain because with running comes a rush,  better explained as a sense of euphoria engulfing his heart as his lungs burn and his legs strive for faster strides.  he’d never tell jeno he’s found a sense of enjoyment in the sport,  would never willingly sign himself up for the torture,  but he appreciates it,  appreciates the time together,  how it feels like it’s just the two of them against the world,  side by side. 

      just him and his best friend  --  what more could he ask for?

      the question catches him off guard,  and yangyang holds up a hand in a request to halt, leaning down and panting in exhaustion.  the future,  unknown and twinged with certain fear at prospect of never getting anywhere,  held back by the idea of failure  --  yangyang knows it well,  thinks back on what he left behind in germany.  

      (  he holds back a grimace.  )  

      he motions towards the bench a few feet away now,  words exchanged in between attempts to catch his breath.  “let’s take a mini break.”  his mind wander all over the place,  a million thoughts going at once.  he wonders how long jeno’s been pondering the subject,  because jeno too understands loss well,  unavoidable as yangyang’s eyes fall to jeno’s knee for a moment before readjusting his gaze to the incoming place of rest. 

      “maybe i should be asking you that  --  what are your plans for the future? y’know,  after . . . everything that’s happened?”  yeah,  real smooth.  he winces internally,  but doesn’t say anything to take it back because he’s been curious and jeno brought it up first,  an opportunity he’s keen to take advantage of.