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Chanhee…
Chanhee’s phone lights up a minute after he hits send and he can hear his own name being called tentatively despite it only being spelled out through text. The seven letters of his name plus the ellipses is a green light.
He’s sure.
Because this isn’t the first time.
In a matter of seconds a second message arrives.
Come. I’ll be home soon.
When Chanhee arrives at the apartment that’s much fancier than his own, he lets himself in. Having rights to the keypad code that no one else but the owner knows because it’s Chanhee’s birthday. 980426. Something Chanhee had finagled when he got tired of waiting outside the door like an expectant puppy.
The inside of the apartment is as lavish as it is expensive. However, Chanhee finds that the most expensive items in the room are the memories that are painted upon every surface. His presence that still lingers in the home even after they decided to end it.
Chanhee finds his way to the kitchen, easily locating the box of instant hot chocolate that literally has his name on it as it became obvious that he would be spending more time there than in his own place. He has his own mug too but he chooses to use his just because he can.
But he can’t anymore, can he?
The beeping of the keypad stops Chanhee from spiraling and he averts his attention towards the door. If there were a limit to how much beauty one was able to see in one day, Chanhee would have been tapped out at that very moment.
Lee Juyeon, although exhausted from work, is a vision.
“Hey. I’m going to shower.”
Chanhee barely nods, pouring the basic ingredients of his hot chocolate into his mug and setting the microwave. A part of Chanhee feels like he’s intruding. Like he’s interrupting something he shouldn’t be. But Chanhee knows that’s not the case. He knows that if he wasn’t wanted he would have received a direct rejection stamped with a pleading apology. He also knows that there’s no one else. Juyeon wants him just as much as he wants Juyeon. Their tepid farewell was caused not by another person or dwindling affection but a career move that would crush their kindling romance before it got the full potential to bloom.
Juyeon’s showers are always short so in the meantime Chanhee finishes his drink and curls up into his usual spot in front of the television. Whatever he’s watching is intriguing for all of seven minutes until the sound of the bathroom door opening rattles every one of his nerves. He wears his best poker face although the shaking of his foot is a dead giveaway.
Juyeon’s footsteps echo into the kitchen and Chanhee sits up a little, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over his fists and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Are you hungry?”
He knows if he doesn’t say yes now he won’t eat anything until tomorrow so he stands and sits at the kitchen counter as Juyeon throws together a soup at the stove. Chanhee spends the time scrolling through his phone.
Some days it’s easy for Chanhee to come forward with small talk. Other times it’s Juyeon who aimlessly fills in the silence. Chanhee wonders if it would be better to sit without speaking, without tiptoeing around the big red elephant in the room.
“Your glasses are askew again.” Juyeon notices, tapping the frames which wobble because they are in fact uneven. Chanhee sat on them one night in a rush to clean his apartment when the elder requested to come over.
But he doesn’t tell him that.
“I know. They’re old, anyway.” He says instead.
“Are you going to replace them?”
Chanhee eyes his glasses carefully and after a thought shakes his head.
“Has anyone returned a pair of round rimmed glasses today?”
The librarian takes a step back and scans behind the counter, sifting through a few piles of books but regrettably shakes his head. Chanhee thankfully bows and aims to retrace his steps. His glasses must still be in here. He highly doubts someone would want to steal his high prescription brand less glasses. He quietly stalks to his usual table towards the windows and is unsurprised to see another person occupying his prior seat. As he gets closer his eyes peruse the table for his glasses but all he finds are the other man’s items. Sighing once more, he approaches.
“Excuse me? Sorry to bother but have you seen a pair of glasses? I usually sit here.”
The man who looks up has a soft gaze for such striking features. A smile stretches across his lips and with a slight nod he reaches into his blazer pocket and produces Chanhee’s glasses on his palm.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Chanhee bows his head in farewell but before he can even process what he’s doing he spins back around. Much to his surprise, the other man still has his eyes on him.
“Will you be here tomorrow?” Chanhee wonders aloud, clutching his glasses in both hands.
The other man’s lips curl up gently and he nods. “Same time, yes.”
“I’ll clean up.” Juyeon says, taking Chanhee’s empty bowl. He offers his bathroom to Chanhee along with a set of freshly laundered pajamas. The scent is distinctly Juyeon’s, Chanhee notes, hanging his towel after his shower.
All the lights in the apartment are off besides the faint glow coming from Juyeon’s bedroom so Chanhee pads down the familiar path. This room too is shrouded in vivid memories.
Juyeon is seated at the edge of his mattress finishing a chapter of a paperback Chanhee figures he’ll never get the chance to borrow. His toes meet Juyeon’s before the latter realizes he’s even entered the room.
“Oh,” He breathes in surprise. “Almost done.”
Chanhee nods, understanding, and takes the moment to rest his glasses on the nightstand and browse through Juyeon’s selection of bedside books. The bookmark Juyeon places inside his novel catches Chanhee’s attention. He reaches a finger towards it before Juyeon closes the book. Juyeon releases a soft sigh in acknowledgement.
“Yeah…” He barely whispers.
Chanhee remembers that sunny afternoon Juyeon pulled him into that photo booth, the one down that pedestrian street by that barbecue restaurant in Yeoksam. Chanhee’s copy is buried in one of his drawers because it’s difficult for him to remember the good times when they only exist in the past now.
Chanhee shuts the book, slips it from Juyeon’s grasp to leave on the nightstand soundly and cups Juyeon’s sharp jaw in his hands. Juyeon welcomes the anticipated kiss, pulling Chanhee closer into the space between his knees. When they sink into the bed Juyeon settles over Chanhee with fondness and desire. Their lips meet again and again, making up for time that will soon be lost.
The truth is that when Juyeon signed that contract it was the beginning of the end for their relationship. Two years in New York while Chanhee stayed in Seoul. They weren’t stupid enough to have hope. Chanhee wasn’t selfish enough to beg him to stay. How could he? 88 days together, just short of three beautiful months, compared to a lifetime of training and dedication for a chance just like this one.
Juyeon presses his lips to the side of Chanhee’s delicate face with purpose. Over the pale expanse of his neck down to the left side of his chest where Juyeon leaves yet another searing kiss above his heart as apology.
It’s unfortunate to have met at this time, Chanhee thinks. Under different circumstances perhaps they would have had a better outcome. Wrong time, right place.
Chanhee reaches for Juyeon’s lips, deepening his intentions and smooths his hands against Juyeon’s broad back only to have Juyeon capture them and hold their interlaced fingers by his head on the pillow before he can creep beneath Juyeon’s shirt.
“I can’t, Chanhee.” Juyeon whispers although there’s a longing in his eyes that says otherwise.
The second Juyeon casts his gaze to the side the spell is broken. The light in Chanhee’s eyes diminishes. He always tries to fool himself into not understanding, but he does. Silently, Chanhee slides away from Juyeon and fits himself beneath the slightly ruffled bed sheets. Not being able to have Juyeon the way he wants despite being inches away from him is cruel. Facing the darkness of the night sky outside the window, frustration rolls down Chanhee's cheeks and onto the pillow. Juyeon heaves a broken sigh and the bedroom light is turned off. Chanhee receives a hesitant lingering kiss below his ear.
He knows it’s not the last time.
They’ll continue gravitating towards one another until only physical distance can separate them. Next time it’ll be Juyeon seeking Chanhee out.
He knows it’s not healthy.
Tells himself that every night he falls into Juyeon’s bed and wakes up facing the same brutal reality. Chanhee’s heart is broken, and in trying to fix it he breaks it a little more every night seeking refuge in Juyeon’s arms.
They can’t be together.
At least not now. But if for one night at a time they can play into their dreams, maybe they can pretend that they are meant to be.