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1.
There’s the subway and its crass lighting and the clack clack of the wheels, anonymous faces reflected in dirty windows and his own staring back at him and Kihyun doesn’t know, sometimes, what he looks like to others, suit and side parting and pointy shoes.
There’s the office job and the smiling colleagues and it’s not so bad but it’s not all good, either, and there’s the light rain and the streetlights that go on when he leaves for home; it’s a different crowd then, dolled-up girls he was never interested in and guys too cool to even look at.
If you have ghosts, you have everything says the music in his ears but it doesn’t feel like it sometimes, and Kihyun wonders, staring at the pale face reflected to him on the dark window, if out of all the possible lives he could have led, this one is really the best.
2.
The cigarette’s smoke clouds in front of his face before disappearing into the cold air and Kihyun leans forward against the banister, gaze lost onto the street below. It’s quiet, Kihyun’s eyes following the rare silhouettes of passersby until they disappear into buildings or turn the corner. He sighs, hand reaching to the bottle next to him and the soju tastes bitter on his tongue, carving a trail of warmth down to his stomach. It snowed earlier in the day, and the air is crisp now, biting against his face. He shrugs, zipping up his jacket and takes another drag, lifting his eyes to the sky above and the moon that hangs there, almost full, stars obscured by the fog and city lights. It feels empty.
“Hey, you got a lighter?”
It’s Changkyun’s voice alright, yet Kihyun almost doesn’t recognize him when he leans next to him, bundled up as he his.
“Sure, here.”
“Thanks.”
Kihyun watches as the flame lights up Changkyun’s face in moving shadows, the guy closing his eyes on that first drag.
“What are you doing here?” Kihyun asks, and Changkyun turns around, elbows planted on the banister. It’s his turn to stare down below, the wet sounds of tires on melted snow reaching the rooftop of their low building.
“I was ready to sleep and then room 504 started rubbing one out and did you know you can hear everything? Cause you can and it’s fucking gross.”
Kihyun shrugs, a half smile on his lips.
“Ah, the joys of living in a goshiwon. This isn’t even that bad. My neighbor used to have her boyfriend over, they would do it in like fifteen minutes and he left right after every time. She would make those weird mousy sounds, like nih nih nih– One time I met them in the corridor and all I could think of was I know what you guys sound like during sex. I didn’t even say hello, it was so awkward I just legged it.”
Changkyun laughs, shaking his head, heaving a sigh when the laughter dies out.
“Remind me why I came to Seoul for a sec?”
“You never really told me. I’d say riches, sex, and glory?”
“I got none of that, though.”
“You got the sex.”
“Are you talking about my neighbor’s disgustingly wet jacking off?”
“You mean it doesn’t count?”
“I’ll throw you off this rooftop.”
Kihyun laughs, pushing the half empty soju bottle towards Changkyun who takes a sip and then another, licking his lips, cheeks reddened by the cold. Kihyun stares, the same tight feeling between his ribs each time he sees Changkyun.
“Just tell him to use less lube.”
“I’m not even sure it’s lube it’s just his gross bodily fluids. Look, how can he do that? He must know I hear him. Can’t he just jack off in the shower like everyone else.”
“Stick a note to his door. Hello kind sir, I beg of you, please go touch yourself in the shower.”
“Do you think I’ll be in trouble if I just chop his dick off in his sleep?”
“Maybe you can plead temporary insanity due to emotional damage.”
“I like that.”
Changkyun takes another sip of the bottle and maybe the red in his face isn’t so much about the cold now as he talks more, laughs more, and Kihyun watches a drunken kind of gaiety spill over his features, bringing life to his tired eyes. And he talks with him, laughs with him, just as the vines grow in his lungs.
“Do you think he’s done by now?” Changkyun asks and Kihyun laughs, rolling the now empty bottle between his hands, a pile of crushed cigarettes in the old tin can officiating as an ashtray stinking up the night.
“No one has this much stamina. He’s probably asleep, and judging by your face, you should do the same.”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
Nothing, Kihyun wants to say. It’s very kissable.
“You just look like you could use some sleep.”
“That’s brave, coming from you.”
Kihyun laughs, pushing off from the banister as a cold wind rises and it must be late, he thinks, very late; the streets have grown awfully quiet, neon lights turning off one after another.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going too. Don’t get smart.”
Changkyun sticks out his tongue, Kihyun answering in kind before following him to the staircase. They part at the landing, each to his own floor, and when Kihyun reaches his own tiny, cramped room, the tight feeling bursts in his chest and he knows what it is then; a deep longing, a hopeless want.
3.
“…and so that’s when I stopped insulting them and legged it cause yeah I may not fight very well but the corollary is that I run really fast.”
“One day I’ll be asked to come identify a corpse at the morgue and it will be yours.”
Minhyuk’s guffaw brings Kihyun back to the conversation, eyes still filled with the imprints of the ceiling’s fairy lights he’d been staring at for the past ten minutes, head tilted back. There’s a nice buzz in his veins, loud music in his ears and his mind is pleasantly numb, hand draped over a cool glass of whatever it is Yoongi ordered them last. Some sort of treacherous makkeolli cocktail this place always offers, the sweetness on his tongue heralding tomorrow’s headache. Kihyun looks at his friends, forcing his eyes to focus but their lively voices are too hard to follow and he lets his gaze wander instead, picking up stray bits of conversation, I’ll come back to haunt your ass and how would a haunted ass even work and Minhyuk’s laugh, the one Kihyun always liked, loud and carefree.
Yoongi feels nice next to him, warm and sturdy and maybe Kihyun leans into him more than he should but it’s alright, the guy never minds. Kihyun watches as Minhyuk swirls the liquid in his glass in a lazy gesture, downing it in one go before his glassy eyes fall on him. Kihyun pushes a smile to his lips, something that Minhyuk returns in kind and it feels warm, suddenly, more so as Kihyun keeps staring; it’s the always startling realization that this being, so removed from himself, still made a home in his bones, both their lives entangled irreparably. That despite the condition of being, separated from everyone and everything else, alone in his own flesh, he went and collected people along the way, people he recognizes as his, a little home built in each of them.
“Kihyun. Kihyun. Why are you getting all misty. I swear if you start crying for no reason again I’ll deck you.”
Kihyun sniffles, making a show of wiping the non-existent tears in his eyes.
“I just love you guys so much.”
Minhyuk rolls his eyes, thumping his empty glass on the table.
“Yeah, okay, great news. We should get a three-way wedding and go live merrily in a mansion we’ll buy with our stock money. Have many children, who will have Yoongi’s looks from the waist down, and mine from the waist up.”
“What about me?” Kihyun asks, trying and failing to sit up straight. Minhyuk pretends to think for a second, refilling his drink from the pitcher where sad mint leaves are still floating bravely.
“Your huge peen.”
“Even the girls?”
“Even the girls.”
“Nice.”
Kihyun feels more than he sees Yoongi shaking his head next to him, hand reaching for leftover fries. Half of them must be inedible by now, Minhyuk having spilled alcohol on the plate each time he filled his drink, but he doesn’t seem to mind. And this is it, Kihyun thinks, this is what makes it all worth it. Out of all the possible lives he could have led, his choices led to the one where he can sit for hours in a dingy pub, talking for the sake of talking, of amusement, of warmth, for the sake of simply being. And it should be enough. It could be enough.
And then the door at the end of the room opens, spitting in frozen revelers tugging on scarves and Kihyun stares and stares and feels his heart skip a bit. Yoongi doesn’t even react when he plunges in his lap, hiding his face in his shirt with a squeaky noise that Kihyun will never admit came out of his own throat.
He peaks over the table, Minhyuk popping a salted peanut into his mouth while cocking an eyebrow at him.
“The fuck you’re doing?”
Kihyun makes a face, gesturing for him to tone it down even though it would be impossible for anyone not directly next to him to hear. Minhyuk still complies, hunching down towards the table and stage whispering with a hand around his mouth.
“The fuck you’re doing?”
“Changkyun just came in.”
“Oh. Okay. Wait, why is it a problem?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know. He’s with hot people.”
“Isn’t he always with hot people?” Yoongi says, sipping at his drink and staring over his shoulder at the table Changkyun and friends have sat at, not bothering to hide in the slightest. Kihyun whacks him in his scrawny chest, tugging on his collar for him to hunker down.
“Mayhaps. I don’t know.”
“Why are we hiding?”
“Because.”
“Because what?”
“Because shut up. I don’t want him to see me. I look disgusting.”
“You always look disgusting and he still dated you,” Minhyuk helpfully points out from above his drink.
“Minhyuk, you know all those people you can’t fight include me, right?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I so would.”
Minhyuk sighs, sitting back up against the bench, eyes dramatically lost in the distance.
“Every day is a new betrayal.”
“I thought you guys were friends?” Yoongi asks in a soft voice, a hand falling to Kihyun’s hair.
Kihyun ponders the question from his position in Yoongi’s lap, and it’s comfortable enough, down there, all he sees are the edge of the table and Minhyuk’s bony knees peering from his ripped jeans. Nice and contained, dim light and muted sounds, and yeah, they’re friends, but it’s not supposed to hurt this much.
“I guess so. Is it weird?”
“Is what weird,” Minhyuk asks, voice sounding much sharper now that Kihyun cannot see his face.
“Is it weird to be friends with your ex?”
“Oh yeah, definitely,” says Minhyuk without an ounce of tact. “Especially with this ex.”
“It was a mutual break-up, though, just so you know.”
“Oh, come on. No one ever believed that. Not even yourself. He left you, Kihyun.”
Kihyun knows Minhyuk is right. He can still hear the words; they’re engraved on the thick bones of his skull. I don’t think I love you anymore, not in that way. He hears them every time he sees Changkyun’s face, every time he thinks of him, every time he speaks to him. It feels more like habit than anything else. They remained stuck in his throat and it’s uncanny, really, that this voice he used to adore could crush him to dust this easily.
“Dude, you don’t have to be so blunt about it,” Yoongi says, soft hands in Kihyun’s hair, comforting like a brother. Better, really; Kihyun’s brother only ever made fun of him.
“It’s okay. He’s right.”
“Do you want us to go somewhere else?”
And Yoongi was always the nicest one; Kihyun never understood the cold, snarky image people had of him. The nicest and the softest, gentle hands and a quietness Kihyun always appreciated; long afternoons spent in companionable silences, browsing stupid shit on cracked phone screens they’d push in each other’s faces across the bed they sprawled on. Yoongi was always there, whenever Kihyun needed him, there to help him forget about the exhaustion of the day, the emptiness of his life, the cracks in his heart.
“Nah, it’s all good,” Kihyun says, sitting up from Yoongi’s lap, who immediately smooths down the mess he made of his hair. “We were here first. We’re gonna enjoy the night whatever may come.”
“This sounds very solemn,” Minhyuk says, refiling Kihyun’s drink. “But cheers, bro.”
Maybe Kihyun goes a bit overboard after that oath. Maybe dunking half of their third pitcher by himself isn’t such a good idea but Minhyuk is funny again and Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind being the only reason Kihyun is still upright, sprawled against him as he is. It’s warm and he’s laughing and nothing matters anymore. Yoongi is throwing peanuts into Minhyuk’s open mouth, who somehow catches them all and shrieks in victory. Follows a heated debate about which nut is the superior one and it’s Kihyun who makes the obvious joke, earning himself a whack over the head and a shot of something that burns his throat on the way down. He forgets about Changkyun, forgets about his stupid heartbreak and his stupid job that he hates. His world is reduced to Minhyuk’s laugh and Yoongi’s pretty smiles and the soggy fries left in his plate and it’s fine, really, he doesn’t need anything more. Except peeing.
“Guys. Guys I gotta go to the bathroom.”
“Well, you know where it is,” Minhyuk helpfully points out.
“Yeah.”
“Do you need one of us to hold your dick for you?”
“No,” Kihyun says, still not moving from his seat. “I just have a very reduced visual field right now.”
“If you can say visual field, you’re not that drunk.”
“The drunker he is, the smarter he gets,” Yoongi says, nudging Kihyun out of his seat to stand up after him, holding him steady when he sways, taking one cautious step after another. Yoongi keeps his hands on Kihyun’s shoulders, piloting him towards the back of the bar right to an empty stall where Kihyun assures him that yes, he can take care of the rest himself, and that no, he won’t forget to wash his hands.
There’s a moment of realization where Kihyun gets how drunk he is when opening his pants is much more complicated than it should be, but he emerges victorious from that struggle and feels pretty good about himself right up until he bumps into a guy on his way out of the bathroom. A guy he knows well, one who smiles as if he was actually happy to see him and Kihyun smiles back, ignoring the stabbing pain between his ribs.
“You’re here!” Changkyun says, and he has his drunk voice, the raspy one Kihyun always liked.
“Yup, I am. You are too. That’s great.”
“How you doing?”
There’s a split second where Kihyun wonders if this is actually happening, if he’s really standing there, drunk as a skunk, exchanging mundanities with the love of his life next to a dingy bathroom door. Ex-love of his life, and he’ll probably just wallow in self-pity until the end of days. It registers somewhere in his brain that Changkyun is staring at him with a slightly worried look and maybe it’s been more than a split second, and where the fuck is Yoongi?
“I’m good!” Kihyun half-screams. “Oh shit sorry that was way loud.”
Changkyun laughs, and Kihyun knows what should have happened next. Changkyun would have kissed him, right there because he never cared whether they were in public or not. They would have ditched their friends to go home and tumble into bed, Changkyun would have spoken indecencies right to Kihyun’s ear with that raspy voice of his and I must stop, Kihyun thinks, this is over, we don’t love each other.
“How about you?”
“I’m good, it’s Hyungwon’s birthday so we’re celebrating. You remember him?”
Tall and gangly and pretty. Kihyun remembers, so he nods, and the room nods with him.
“Happy birthday,” he says automatically, looking above Changkyun’s head to see if he can spot Yoongi’s stupid hair somewhere and somehow send him distressed signals. He can’t.
“I’m gonna go back then. You sure you’re alright?”
“I’m dandy,” Kihyun says, cringing internally.
“Okay, well, have fun, I’ll see you around!”
Kihyun prefers to imagine that he did not actually wave when Changkyun left and stays rooted on the spot for a couple more minutes to replay the scene in his mind. Could have been worse, he thinks. I could have cried. Or said something stupid like “please take me back.” And I would have had to kill myself right there and then out of pure embarrassment. It then registers that he’s still standing near the bathroom, that there’s still no Yoongi, and that maybe he could find his way back to their table himself.
Minhyuk is alone when he gets there, asleep, head pillowed in a spill of soju. Kihyun shakes him, earning himself a grunt and an approximate slap, the guy not even opening his eyes.
“Oh, come on. Where is Yoongi?”
“I’m here,” Yoongi answers, appearing right at Kihyun’s shoulder, making him jump.
“Where the fuck where you? I ran into he who must not be named.”
“I know,” Yoongi says, not even sorry. “I saw you wave at him, it was very dignified.”
“I’m gonna kill you and eat your corpse.”
“Harsh,” Yoongi answers, putting on the table the two glasses of water he was holding.
“Who the fuck needs water,” Minhyuk grumbles, still downing a glass in one go.
“You?” Yoongi points out. “Should we stay or go somewhere else?”
“This place is tainted,” Kihyun says, maybe a little more dramatically than he meant to. Yoongi rolls his eyes, and Kihyun disavows any earlier thoughts he might have had about Yoongi being nice.
4.
Or maybe not. It’s the third time in less than an hour that Kihyun punches 20674 into the noraebang remote, blasting at full volume Billy Ray Cyrus’ My achy breaky heart, worst song of all times, forcing Yoongi to do the chorus with him. And the guy complies, even if he yells my achy breaky back and Kihyun has to start from the beginning again, Minhyuk throwing his shoe at his head.
They bought more soju, and Kihyun starts thinking that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea when he has to watch Minhyuk sing My hump twice in row, choreo included. Or what he thinks is the choreo. The guy is bendy though, Kihyun will give him that. Yoongi’s laughing next to him and Kihyun leans into the sound, leans against him and Yoongi doesn’t mind, sneaking an arm around his shoulders so he can fit more comfortably. Kihyun catcalls when Minhyuk almost throws his back out trying to shake his non-existent ass, sending Yoongi into another fit of laughter that has Kihyun look at him, really look at him and he’d never noticed how pretty Yoongi can be, sometimes, when there’s no one to witness him and he can just be.
Somehow it’s a sobering realization, and Kihyun extricates himself from Yoongi’s side to grab at the grapefruit soju, taking two hearty swigs before turning back to Yoongi again, who started clapping like an idiot as Minhyuk performs a shrieky rendition of DBSK’ Rising sun. He looks carefree like this, and there’s something within Kihyun that’s drawn in; when Yoongi notices that he’s staring it’s too late to look away. But Yoongi doesn’t mind, smiling widely at him before being pulled by Minhyuk into the madness noraebang night has devolved in. Kihyun watches them dance in a sort of dissociative state, alcohol numbing his senses almost as much as the confusion in his mind. When the bottles are empty and all their breaths spent, both Minhyuk and Yoongi collapse on the couch on either side of Kihyun, the backtrack to the Key Boys’ haebyeoneuro gayo streaming idly in the background.
“We should go on a road trip,” Minhyuk says then, voice gritty.
“It’s like minus seven outside, Minhyuk,” Yoongi remarks, sinking into Kihyun’s side, who remains perfectly still. “There’s snow everywhere. We’d die.”
“You’re a coward.”
“I just like to be warm and toasty.”
“Oh, toasts would be so good right now,” Minhyuk says, closing his eyes on a yawn.
“Should we go home?” Yoongi ventures, head lolling on Kihyun’s shoulder.
There’s a silence, all looking at the remnants of their night, the empty soju bottles of every flavor, the disemboweled crisps packets, Minhyuk’s lone shoe still resting where it fell after bouncing off Kihyun’s head.
“Yeah, we probably should.”
It’s not an easy task, leaving the noraebang. They have to fight a whole staircase, hanging off each other, and it shouldn’t be this hard to lift his foot, Kihyun thinks. They spend an inordinate amount of time trying to find a cab for Minhyuk, the only one to live on the outskirts, before remembering they have an app for that. When Minhyuk’s safely out of sight Kihyun has to lean against Yoongi to be able to walk remotely straight.
“Why did I drink so much?”
“Cause you’re sad,” Yoongi answers, valiantly trying to prevent them from veering into the rare traffic.
“Oh, right. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“I mean, you kinda are,” Yoongi laughs, pushing him in the right direction. “It’s not really a matter of opinion.”
“But you still like me.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, voice quiet. “I do.”
They fall into silence after that, and there’s something off-kilter Kihyun cannot quite name, Yoongi avoiding to look at him when all Kihyun does is stare at his profile, at his face half-eaten by a huge woolen scarf. They walk quickly, as quickly as they can when the ground isn’t quite cooperating, and Kihyun feels an inexplicable relief when his building comes into sight, Yoongi walking him right to the door where it takes Kihyun way too long to punch in the digital code.
“You can make it up to your room?” Yoongi asks, righting the collar of Kihyun’s jacket.
“Yes. I can operate an elevator.”
“Good,” Yoongi nods, but still he doesn’t leave, lifting his eyes to look at Kihyun’s face for the first time in fifteen minutes. And it’s here again, this feeling drawing Kihyun in; the cold dusted a blush on Yoongi’s cheeks and his eyes shine under his messy hair, and he’s pretty, and Kihyun wants to touch him, and so he does. He tugs at the grey scarf, and still Yoongi doesn’t move; Kihyun frames his face in his cold hands and sees Yoongi’s eyes drift down to his mouth, quickly looking up as if afraid he’d been caught, and Kihyun smiles. There’s barely a hesitation before he kisses him.
And for a split second Yoongi kisses back, pressing against him, warm and pliant and Kihyun threads stiff fingers in his hair, bringing him closer still, and it’s good, it is, something elated taking flight in Kihyun’s chest and he smiles against Yoongi’s lips. But then there’s two hands pushing against his chest and Kihyun stumbles back, Yoongi staring at him with wide eyes, face flushed. They don’t speak, breathless for a moment, Kihyun’s heart hammering in his chest and he knows something’s wrong, Yoongi taking a step back, touching fingers to his reddened lips.
“I don’t– Kihyun, I won’t be your rebound,” he says then, voice quiet, a sadness in his eyes Kihyun knows he put there himself.
“You’re not–”
“I’m gonna go,” Yoongi interrupts, winding his scarf back around his face. “See you later.”
And Yoongi steps off the stoop, Kihyun desperately trying to find something to say before he disappears but his mind draws blanks and he can only watch Yoongi’s retreating back, the cold he feels not entirely to blame on winter.
5.
Yoongi doesn’t texts nor calls, tomorrow is Monday, and Kihyun is ready to call it quits. If he could just lie there for a week or two maybe things would get better. Maybe he should just take a month off. Go back home to his parents and have someone taking care of him who is required by law to love him. Kihyun knows this is the cowardly way out but he doesn’t feel particularly brave right now, not with the splitting headache he’s suffering from, the taste of bad alcohol still on his tongue and the memory of kissing his best friend sending his heart hammering against his ribs.
He groans, turning over to bury his head in his pillow, a dinosaur-shaped green monstrosity Yoongi somehow convinced him to buy, after which Kihyun took an oath of never going to Daiso with Yoongi ever again. An oath he broke a week later to end up with a collection of built-yourself, glow-in-the-dark plastic dinosaurs’ skeletons currently staring at him from their place on his shelf. Maybe Yoongi has a dinosaur problem. Maybe Kihyun has a buying useless crap at Daiso problem. The only thing he’s sure of is that he definitely has a Yoongi problem.
A couple months ago, the modus operandi of problem-solving was grabbing a six pack, going down to Changkyun’s goshiwon room to whine, and either Changkyun would find a solution, or they would just fuck, either way Kihyun would end up in a better place than he’d started in. But Kihyun definitely can’t go down there with his current predicament of maybe I’m getting over you, maybe not, either way I kissed someone I shouldn’t have, and this probably can’t be resolved by a good fuck. Or maybe it can, and Kihyun has a panicky few seconds where his brain conjures up way too detailed imagery of what it would be like to see Yoongi naked, and this needs to stop, really, there’s enough shit to deal with without adding a guilty boner to it.
So Kihyun is confused. Very confused. Maybe he can still go talk to Changkyun. He can take a shower and buy a six pack and be a mature adult. They decided to be friends, after all. They can laugh about how drunk Kihyun was last night and he can ask for advice because despite being young, Changkyun is weirdly wise and maybe he’d know what to do. More than Kihyun does right now, anyway. And Kihyun misses him. Changkyun left a hole in his life no one else can fill because it has the shape of Changkyun’s hands on Kihyun’s body, the shape of his voice in his ears, of his laughter against bare skin.
Kihyun cannot summon the will to face yet another day with the same ache, the same weariness pushing against his ribs. Yet he has to, and there’s something else, now; a grey scarf dotted with snow, sad eyes and a sadder voice – I won’t be your rebound – and Kihyun drives the heels of his hands against his eyes, luminous shapes dancing on the back of his eyelids. He messed up, and there’s no way to turn back time. A glance at his phone tells him there’s still no news from Yoongi, no news from anyone, really. But he needs to get this out of himself, put it out here in the open where it would stop festering. And so a decision is made, and he rolls out of bed, making for the shower.
The 6-pack is sort of heavy, a dead weight tugging on his arm and Kihyun hadn’t bothered to dry his hair before running to the corner shop, a testament to his ongoing lunacy. He feels frozen over, shivering when the blast of warmth from the air-con hits him as he steps back into the goshiwon. He climbs to Changkyun’s floor rather than taking the elevator, buying himself time, running different scenarios in his mind each more embarrassing than the last. But he has to talk to someone, and Changkyun had been this person for so long – the one he needed, the one he went to, the shape of his being etched into him.
Kihyun reaches the door too quickly for his tastes, raising his hand to knock before freezing in his tracks. He waits, frowning, and he hears it again, the sound of laughter, one he doesn’t recognize, Changkyun’s low voice in response and a squeal, a giggle, a hum; it’s almost too easy to picture what’s going on and Kihyun really should move to a place where walls aren’t made of paper. He stays rooted on the spot until he hears a door open down the hallway, and he runs, then, taking the stairs two by two until he reaches the rooftop.
He doesn’t have his jacket on, Kihyun realizes too late, but it doesn’t matter. The searing cold numbs both body and mind and he leans against the banister, watching the people hurrying in the street below, hunched against the same wind he can feel biting his skin. He wishes he was one of them, someone better, someone who knew how to move on, someone who didn’t fill their days with the ghosts of times gone by. Kihyun sighs, turning his back on the street but the roof isn’t so much better to look at, grey, cold and deserted. The 6 pack rests at his feet and Kihyun grabs a can, sipping the bitter beer in a toast to himself and his failures. It’s a tad dramatic, he knows, but he was always like this, a bit of a sentimental idiot, and if there’s no one to mourn with you you got to do it for yourself.
You truly are an idiot, he thinks, a slow smile creeping to his lips. And suddenly it rises again, unbidden, this image of Yoongi, pretty and soft under the snow. But you still like me, Kihyun had said, and he’d acquiesced, a sadness in his eyes Kihyun hadn’t noticed yet, not before he’d gone and made it worse. Kihyun groans, falling into a crouch, driving the heels of his palms into his eyes once again, to hide the shame, the regret, to escape this soft feeling he feels blooming in his stomach each time he thinks of Yoongi.
“Are you hoping to freeze to death?” a voice says then, making him jolt. Kihyun carefully removes his hands from his eyes and wonders for a split second if he’s hallucinating. Yoongi’s standing in front of him, swaddled in the same coat he had on the day before, the same scarf eating half of his face. Kihyun’s tempted to reach out, see if his hand would go through but each option is equally terrifying and so he keeps his hands to himself.
“I went to your room but you weren’t there so I checked here just in case. Answer your phone sometime.”
“What are you doing here?” Kihyun croaks out, just as Yoongi crouches next to him.
“I just answered that question.”
Kihyun watches him grab a beer uninvited, tugging on his scarf to free his mouth. He looks disheveled, the wind still battling at him from their high nest and Yoongi curls further in on himself against the cold.
“I need more than that,” Kihyun adds, staring at a pebble a few feet away from him. Yoongi feels warm against him and Kihyun tries his hardest to stay where he is, to prevent himself from burrowing further into him like he’d usually do, draping himself all over Yoongi without a shame in the world.
Yoongi hums, taking a last sip from his beer before letting the can dangle from his fingers, arm resting on his bent knees.
“I feel like maybe I left a bit abruptly yesterday.”
“Oh,” Kihyun says, and he wishes his mind could come up with something more but it’s frustratingly blank, a lonely thought rising unbidden. He’s come to ask you to pretend that nothing happened. He glances at Yoongi next to him as this thought solidifies in his mind amidst a wave of sadness, the guy taking another sip, staring at nothing.
“Yeah. I thought you would be freaking out about it.”
“I’m not.”
“Sure. It’s totally normal for you to freeze your ass off on a rooftop in the middle of winter, alone with a 6-pack.”
“You know me so well.”
Yoongi laughs, brushing their shoulders together and just like that, the awkwardness dwindles, Kihyun knocking his beer can with Yoongi’s before taking a swig. It was always easy between them, never a need for pretense, for white lies to hide a painful truth.
“I’m sorry I’m such an idiot,” Kihyun says, stealing a glance at Yoongi’s profile. He’s smiling, something soft and barely there.
“It’s fine,” Yoongi says, head slightly tilted down. “But I thought I should tell you. We’re friends. If you want to pretend that nothing happened, I understand. You were very drunk.”
Here it is, Kihyun thinks, staring at the half-empty beer can in his hand, a hollow feeling in his chest. Yoongi is not done, however, his voice clear in the cold air.
“But what I said is true. I do like you. As in like like you.”
Kihyun gapes, staring at Yoongi who’s decidedly not looking at him, taking a swig from his can. This is something about Yoongi Kihyun had always admired. He never took the cowardly way out. He said what he had to say, no matter the consequences. Kihyun loved that about him, as it brought trust between them, a reassurance that Kihyun needed, a reassurance that Yoongi would never lie, never hide anything from him. Kihyun was never good at reading between the lines and Yoongi had caught on quick.
“I–”
“You don’t have to like me back,” Yoongi interrupts. “I just wanted you to know where I stand. I know you’re still hung up on Changkyun and whatever.”
“I didn’t kiss you just because I was sad and drunk.”
“What?” Yoongi stares at Kihyun like his elbows just bent backwards and Kihyun swallows, staring at the same pebble as he forces the words out of his mouth.
“I mean, that’s not the only reason. You were pretty, and I feel good when I’m with you, and I wanted to touch you, and so I did.”
Of all the reactions Yoongi could have had, laughter was not the one Kihyun expected. But Yoongi is laughing, falling from his crouch to a seated position onto the frozen ground.
“What? What did I say?” Kihyun asks, finally looking at him.
“I was pretty? What kind of reason is that?”
“That’s all you gained from all this?”
“No one ever called me pretty. What the hell, Kihyun.”
“I don’t know! You were, okay! And I wanted to kiss you and so I did! I’m not smart, I don’t need much more!”
Yoongi’s laughter dies down, and he’s looking up at Kihyun, mirth still shining in his eyes. And it’s there again, this soft feeling pressing against Kihyun’s ribs; a craving, for Yoongi’s soft skin and idiotic laugh and warm eyes.
“Okay, alright, that’s actually reason enough. Better than drunk and sad and heartbroken anyway.”
“I’m not sad.”
“What?”
“I’m not sad when I’m with you.”
“This is getting embarrassing,” Yoongi says, looking down at his hands but there’s a small smile playing at his lips.
“You started it, with your talk of like liking.”
“Let’s just drink more beer, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Kihyun says, scooting closer to Yoongi under the pretense of grabbing another beer. They stay here on the frozen roof for longer than they probably should but it’s okay, Yoongi shared his scarf with Kihyun and the beer feels warm in his belly, almost as warm as Yoongi next to him and it doesn’t matter if he still doesn’t know what he feels; he isn’t sad anymore.
6.
“You did what?”
Minhyuk drops his cookie into his humongous coffee cup and swears copiously as he retrieves it, burning his fingers in the process. Kihyun watches all that unfold with bated breath, just like half the coffee shop, until Minhyuk’s dark eyes settle on him once more.
“You kissed whom?”
“Min Yoongi. About my height, horrid dye job. I think you know him.”
“I can’t fucking believe this. Dude has been in love with you forever and you go and drunk kiss him?”
“Dude has been what?”
“Oh god,” Minhyuk says, burying his face in his hands. Kihyun leaves him enough time to regroup by sipping at his own drink, some atrocious concoction made with enough sugar to power him for a week straight.
“Why did you do it?” Minhyuk croaks from behind his fingers.
“I just felt like it.”
“You just felt like it,” Minhyuk repeats in a mock imitation of Kihyun’s tone. “So what now? Are you guys pretending it never happened or should I reserve my weekend for a shotgun wedding?”
“Neither,” Kihyun says, and Minhyuk is obviously expecting him to elaborate but there’s really nothing more to say. Nothing had really changed. They kept hanging out just as usual, except that now Kihyun put another meaning behind each of Yoongi’s fleeting touches, each of his laughs, each of his shy glances.
“And so? Do you like him back now? Is that what this is?” Minhyuk asks, no real bite in his voice.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
Minhyuk tangles his hands in his hair and groans, garnering himself some more amused glances from the other patrons. “The idiot doesn’t know. I can’t believe this.”
“Look, it was just very sudden okay?”
“Very sudden, he says.”
“Can you stop repeating whatever I say?”
“Then make more sense. Do you like him or not?”
“I do. I just don’t know if I like like him or… I don’t know. Why can’t this be enough? Whatever I feel right now.”
Minhyuk sighs, letting his hands fall from his face and he’s serious, suddenly, something wise in his eyes Kihyun isn’t used to witness. Sometimes he forgets that Minhyuk isn’t just the funny jokester everyone takes him to be.
“Because he isn’t going to wait around for you forever,” he says, and Kihyun feels his belly sink. “He’s gonna need an answer. And I’m not saying it’s gonna ruin your friendship or whatever but if the answer is ultimately no, I’m not in love with you, he has a right to know. Just like you have a right to move on from Changkyun, he should be allowed to move on from you. You can’t just keep him in limbo because it’s convenient for you. Cause it sucks and you know it.”
He does know it. Kihyun looks down at his hands folded on the table, a sigh stuck between his ribs. He had known for a long time, much before these fated words had left Changkyun’s lips, that Changkyun didn’t love him anymore. Yet he had said nothing, and Changkyun hadn’t, either. It was too hard. They had kept going through the motions, stuck in a strange in-between, and it had hurt him more, in the end, much more than the sudden loneliness, than the yearning, than the Changkyun-shaped hole in his side.
“Yeah, I know,” Kihyun says, still looking down, and he hears Minhyuk shift in his seat, feels his warm hand covering his, squeezing gently.
“I’m not saying this to be mean. I just don’t want things to get bad because you can’t figure yourself out.”
“I’m just… I’m an idiot, Minhyuk, I can’t figure out anything.”
“You’re overthinking this. Either you feel it or you don’t. It’s not rocket science. Trust yourself for once.”
Trust myself? Kihyun thinks. He’s never done this. He always had people around him, people better suited to make decisions, smart, confident, beautiful and funny people, people to show him the way. But Yoongi was different. Kihyun talked and Yoongi listened, Kihyun remained silent and Yoongi did, too, sitting in front of a movie or scrolling through his phone; when Kihyun pushed against him he made room, when Kihyun withdrew he didn’t follow; Yoongi let him be, in a way no one else did, and there was something to be found there, a new kind of freedom, a trust placed in him, for him to know better what he needed, and what he needed, Kihyun realized, was Yoongi.
Either you feel it or you don’t, Minhyuk had said, and so Kihyun tries to let himself feel. He sits next to Yoongi on his messy bed and he says nothing; he laughs at the stupid videos Yoongi shows him, he lets his head fall on his shoulder when he grows tired, he lets his body tell him that this feels good, this feels safe, this feels easy. Despite all the promises to himself he lets Yoongi drag him to Daiso where they try on all the sunglasses, where they dare each other to find the ugliest, most useless product they can, where Yoongi buys him his favorite candies and where he finds dinosaur-shaped slippers to complete his growing collection. And this is fun, his body tells him. This feels light, this feels good, this feels like happiness and when Yoongi looks at him something elated takes flight behind Kihyun’s ribs.
It happens gradually, then. Instead of Changkyun’s hands it’s Yoongi’s laugh Kihyun thinks of when he tries to fall asleep, instead of Changkyun’s deep voice in his ear it’s Yoongi’s silences he revels in, instead of heated kisses it’s tentative touches and shy glances that send his heart hammering. Either you feel it or you don’t. And Minhyuk was right, it’s not rocket science and if he trusts himself he knows, the answer is right there, buried under his heart like a secret. There’s no more time to lose then, and Kihyun chucks on his boots, rushes out of his room without a jacket on, and smacks right into Changkyun, who grabs him by the arm before he can hurtle into the wall.
“Wow, did you set your room on fire?”
“No,” Kihyun laughs, righting himself. “I just have somewhere to go.”
“Alright,” Changkyun says, and he looks a bit cautious, a bit worried as he lets him go. Kihyun looks at him then, really looks at him, at the lines of his face he used to trace tirelessly, at his perfect lips he used to kiss, at his hands, at his body he adored, fitting it against himself; it used to be perfect, it really was, and yet Kihyun feels nothing anymore. A vague melancholy, a nostalgia for what had been, perhaps, but this deep longing, this painful yearning, it’s all gone.
“Changkyun.”
“Yeah?”
“I really loved you.”
Changkyun eyes widen, but a small, wistful smile plays on his lips as he answers.
“I did, too.”
“It was really hard for me this past few months but. I’m fine now. I really am. I don’t feel anything for you.”
“I think it’s the first time I’m relived to hear that from someone I appreciate so much,” Changkyun laughs, and Kihyun can feel it too, the relief, a weight lifting from his chest as his smiles grow.
“Friends, then?” Changkyun asks, and Kihyun nods.
“Yeah, friends. For real this time. No weird thoughts.”
“Does that mean I won’t see you freak out in front of public toilets anymore? Cause not gonna lie that was kind of entertaining.”
“You know there’s now nothing preventing me from beating you up, right?”
Changkyun laughs and it feels light, it feels easy again, and Kihyun remembers another laugh he wants to hear.
“Okay, sorry but I really need to go, let’s hang later yeah?”
“Where are you going?” Changkyun asks as Kihyun has already skirted around him, running down the corridor.
“Rescue a guy from limbo!” Kihyun yells over his shoulder.
7.
“What the fuck Kihyun?” Yoongi says as he opens his door on a panting, sweating Kihyun.
“It’s really fucking cold, innit? I forgot my jacket.”
“Did you run here?”
“What gives it away? The crazy hair, the lobster complexion, or the wheezing?”
Yoongi laughs, scooting aside to let Kihyun into his tiny apartment. Kihyun makes a beeline for Yoongi’s sunken couch, sprawling as he clutches his stomach.
“Oh goddamn. I have a side stitch. I am not good at running.”
“Then what the heck was so goddamn urgent that you needed to run all the way here instead of walking like a normal person?”
“Oh yeah,” Kihyun says, sitting up straighter and pushing his hair back from his sweaty face. “I’m in love with you.”
Yoongi’s eyes widen and he stares at Kihyun for what seems like a long, long time, Kihyun’s wheezing the only sound to be heard.
“Did you hear–”
“I fucking heard you yeah.”
“Oh good,” Kihyun says before sinking deeper into the couch, his breathing finally coming under control as his heart stops sending so much blood to his head. It’s then that he registers that Yoongi is still standing, still staring, still silent.
“Yoongi, you good or…?”
“I’m good. Just shut up for a sec.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
“What about Changkyun?”
“Don’t love him anymore. Haven’t for a long time. Love you instead.”
“Why are you talking like this? Am I having an aneurysm?”
“I feel like you need simple words.”
“Simple words–”
Yoongi starts laughing then, something loud and slightly crazy at the edges that has Kihyun standing up in worry but Yoongi waves him away, struggling to get his outburst under control.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just. This is the worst love confession in the history of ever. You just really needed to get that off your chest, uh. Almost gave yourself a heart attack and all.”
“Yeah, I guess I did,” Kihyun says, standing closer to Yoongi who looks at him in this soft way he sometimes has, the one that makes Kihyun feel like he’s something precious, something beloved.
“I guess I could have found a better way but you believe me, right? I’m too stupid to lie anyway, so like–”
“You’re not stupid,” Yoongi interrupts him, lifting a hand to his face. “You’re a bit weird and very sweaty right now but you’re not stupid.”
“If I go take a shower, would you let me kiss you?”
Yoongi starts laughing again and this isn’t at all going the way Kihyun had imagined it would but nothing ever really does anyway, and Yoongi’s kissing him right now, he is, soft lips and slick tongue and a warmth like no other so it doesn’t really matter anymore, whether he did that right, whether he’s stupid or not, whether he’s sweaty and gross. Yoongi loves him. Yoongi loves him.
It goes like this, then. There’s the subway and its crass lighting and the clack clack of the wheels, anonymous faces reflected in dirty windows and his own staring back at him and Kihyun doesn’t know, sometimes, what he looks like to others, but Yoongi likes him in his crumpled suit and his side parting and pointy shoes, and the reflection in the window is smiling back at him.
There’s the office job and the smiling colleagues and it’s not so bad but it’s not all good, either, and there’s the light rain and the streetlights that go on when he leaves for home; it’s a different crowd then, dolled-up girls he was never interested in and guys he doesn’t even look at; Yoongi came to get him and they sit side-by-side on the subway, held hands hidden under Kihyun’s jacket.
If you have ghosts, you have everything says the music in his ear, earbuds shared between the two and it does feel like it sometimes, pale ghosts of days gone by who brought him here and Kihyun knows, then, that out of all the possible lives he could have led this must be the best one; there’s Yoongi’s hand in his, Yoongi’s laugh in his ear, Yoongi’s body against his at night and his silences and caring words and dry wits. There’s screaming karaoke sessions and drunken walks home, there’s Minhyuk hollering and Changkyun smiling a sincere smile and trips to Daiso and more glow-in-the-dark dinosaurs. There’s a tiny apartment farther from the subway but closer to happiness and there’s Yoongi, horrid dye job and gummy smile and the gentle fire burning under Kihyun’s heart, keeping him warm because Yoongi’s there and Kihyun loves him, he does, more and better than he ever did anyone.