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It was in the middle of a particularly warm night of May when Youngkyun woke up abruptly, white shirt drenched in sweat, and realized that there was something amiss. He gently patted the mattress beside him and frowned when he realized that Chanhee wasn’t sleeping peacefully by his side.
Sitting up on the makeshift bed made out of pallets, stolen, slightly torn up sheets and worn out pillows, he kicked the fleece covers aside, then took in his dark surroundings and blinked when he saw that the red, heavy curtain (they had found this one in the garbage when a theatre nearby was shut down by the tax office for tax evasion) separating their room from the small balcony was wide open and gently swaying by a strangely yet quite refreshing cool breeze .
There was this foreign, twisting feeling in his gut urging him to get up and search for him. His mind and voice of reason said otherwise: stay in bed, try to fall back to sleep and everything would be alright in the morning.
How could he go against the agreement they had made when they decided to turn their friendship into something more?
'You will give me space when I need it. You will let me come to you when something is wrong, and not the other way round. If you ever start treating me like a fragile doll, you better get ready to kiss your pretty little nose goodbye.' Is what the younger had told him and he instantly went along with it. After all, trust, companionship and mutual respect was what made this. . .whatever they had bearable and worth fighting for.
This was different. And maybe that terrible feeling was what finally got him up and moving sluggishly towards the balcony.
As expected, Chanhee stood there, stomach against the railing and arms crossed over her chest, clutching a fleece blanket that was quite obviously hurriedly thrown around his shoulders tightly. The uncontrollable shaking that wrecked his entire body revealed that he had been crying for god knows how long and had it been anyone other than Youngkyun, they wouldn’t hesitate to engulf the younger into a warm hug and whisper sweet nothings in a desperate attempt to soothe and reassure.
Not Youngkyun though. Never Youngkyun.
‘𝙎𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚, 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩.’
So he bit his lower lip and leaned beside his -friend? lover?- against the railing made out of cement, eyes scanning the dark city illuminated by dull orange colored lights below.
Chanhee didn’t shoo him away; his sobs didn’t turn into sniffles until about half an hour or so later.
When he could finally breathe easily, when his hands didn’t tremble as if they were ready to pop out of the joints keeping them firmly locked in place, when he wasn’t afraid of holding his head down and muffling those heart wrenching sobs into the blanket, he came closer and leaned his head against Youngkyun’s shoulder.
Those beautiful, recently dyed fiery orange locks that people constantly mocked and made fun of tickled Youngkyun's exposed arm and sent shivers down his spine. Any other day, he would have reached out and pulled the younger closer against him. For now he simply tilted his head lightly in side so that his cheek was touching the top of the slightly shorter male's head and smiled when he heard Chanhee letting out a soft sigh of contentment.
‘’I’m sorry.’’ he muttered quietly, his voice still hoarse from crying.
Youngkyun waited and when he didn’t continue, he planted a quick kiss on top of Chanhee's head and hummed.
‘’There’s nothing you need to apologize for.’’ he said in return, eyes never leaving the scenery of the enormous city spreading out below them. It was a lie. They both knew it was. They both had so much to apologize for, and yet, once again, Youngkyun swallowed everything he wanted to say down.
‘Even the strongest people need a break sometimes. Even the wisest people reach their breaking point.’ he wished to add. But he knew that right now these words would cause nothing but further tears and grief.
‘’We’ll get through. . .whatever this is, yeah?’’ he settled on saying and finally gave in to the urge of wrapping an arm around Chanhee's shoulders and engulfing him in a fierce, yet gentle and careful hug.
What they had was so fragile. Some days, it felt that there was nothing but a thin string keeping them together. Those days neither Youngkyun nor Chanhee could handle being at each other’s presence for too long. They withdrew, stayed away long enough to get past whatever brought this forth.
But then came the days where being apart physically hurt. They stayed for hours and hours on end lying in bed, limbs tangled together and comfortable silence falling around them like a blanket. Talking felt cheap and meaningless. It was those moments that convinced Youngkyun that no matter how hard the road ahead would be, they could manage.
“Let’s get you back inside, hm?” he muttered and pulled back, but not before landing another kiss on the younger’s forehead.
Chanhee looked tired, spent. He didn’t verbally reply, instead, he carefully, almost hesitantly, took Youngkyun’s hand into his own and laced their fingers together.
And that was all the confirmation Youngkyun needed. He gave Chanhee’s hand a light squeeze and then slowly led them both back into their own, personal haven.