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Changbin loved him.
When Hyunjin came home from work, Changbin would love to watch him intently. Hyunjin would pass out on his bed for a bit, then wake up and regret wasting that time, dragging himself to the kitchen to make coffee. And Changbin really would sit and just spend hours observing him, admiring him, smiling to himself.
When Hyunjin combed his long, obsidian hair, Changbin would love to tuck loose strands behind his ears and get rid of stray hairs. He’d sit back and watch then, as the sunlight would spill in past the curtains and cast an orange glow upon Hyunjin, an alluring sight. And when the sun wasn’t out, Changbin would love to see him come in from outside, with snow on his hair and coat, helping pick off what he hadn’t brushed away.
When Hyunjin showered, Changbin would love to wait by the door. He respected him, so privacy would always be given. But he’d close his eyes and listen to Hyunjin sing, his voice mixing in with the splashing of water. And still, he sounded lovely, often pausing a moment when he’d attempt a note he couldn’t quite manage, laughing at himself. The sound would bounce off the walls, and even Hyunjin’s laughter was like music to Changbin’s ears.
When Hyunjin cooked, he’d sometimes forget and leave the stove on, so Changbin would turn it off or else the house might burn down. Hyunjin often wouldn’t remember a certain ingredient either, so Changbin would throw in a teaspoon of salt, or a sprinkle of sugar. Then he’d sit across from Hyunjin and watch him eat, observe how his eyes would squint lightly with wrinkles appearing at the corners. His cheeks would rise too, face lighting up with satisfaction as he ate.
One day, Hyunjin was smiling, and Changbin was happy that day, because it looked like his eyes were really on him. Usually, Hyunjin would often look past or through him, so Changbin would move and situate himself in his line of view, pretending. Letting himself believe a false truth just for that short but bittersweet feeling of mock happiness. Of course, he wished Hyunjin could actually see him, touch him, smile at him.
And then there were those particularly bad days. Hyunjin would get home and shut the door rather loudly, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he’d slowly slide down to the floor with his back against the wall. The tears would spill before he could realize, and he’d press his palms to his eyes as if that would stop them from falling. His hands and sleeves would get wet, dried tears sitting on his cheeks.
It always broke Changbin’s heart. He wished he could say something to Hyunjin, but all he could really do for comfort was sit beside him, his presence alone would have to be enough. Hyunjin would then try to stand up, stumbling, and Changbin would quickly reach out, helping him regain balance before he could fall. He’d follow Hyunjin as he'd wobble into his room, crawling into bed.
And there Changbin would lay himself beside Hyunjin, a deep and painful emotion pouring into his heart.
Sadness.
How could he see the one he loved in that state? It hurt him too, and he’d slide closer to Hyunjin, wishing he could somehow show the boy that he was not lonely, that Changbin was there with him.
Eventually, Hyunjin would fall asleep, and Changbin would wipe the tears away softly, a touch that should only feel like a tickle on his cheeks. He’d hover over him, giving Hyunjin a long-lasting goodnight kiss as he did every night. One that likely gave Hyunjin a fuzzy feeling in his face, and it would make him smile, even as he was asleep. Changbin would then watch him adoringly, hoping that the next day would be a better one.
Of course, every way Changbin helped him, comforted him, every little thing he did for him, they all just passed off as normal occurrences in Hyunjin’s eyes. Coincidences, luck. How could he know that he wasn’t alone? That there was someone looking out for him, caring for him, despite his misery in believing otherwise?
Changbin was a ghost, one that was confined to the walls of the apartment he died in.
Often, he wished he wasn’t, so that the love he yearned for might be returned. He wished he could hold Hyunjin’s soft hands, intertwining their fingers. He wished he could pull Hyunjin into a gentle embrace and tell him how beautiful he was. He wished he could actually touch Hyunjin, feel the warmth of his smooth skin. And most of all, he wished to give Hyunjin a real kiss, one that was tender and sweet. One that would wordlessly express all the love that Changbin had for him.
Sometimes even, when Hyunjin stood in front of the mirror, Changbin would come and stand behind him, enjoying the visual of the both of them together. They could never take a picture, so he’d have to study the image to every last detail, especially Hyunjin, so he could remember what he looked like when he would one day be gone.
And Changbin would try to be okay with it, when Hyunjin would finally leave that place, likely with someone he could actually be with. Changbin knew he should feel happy then, glad that Hyunjin would have a better life. But still, he'd be leaving Changbin behind, leaving him to drown in all his memories of the boy, missing him day after day. Then someone new would come along and move in. Someone Changbin would likely never get attached to as he did Hyunjin.
Changbin loved him, but he’d never know.