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The chimes of a bell rang throughout the café, announcing the arrival of someone through the door. Geonhak opens his eyes, sneaking a glance, then closes them again when the figure that meets his sight wasn’t the one he was looking for. Flowers of all shades bloom right outside the window, yet here he is, ignorant of their beauty. Somehow, the pull on his eyes makes it clear they warrant more attention as his head dozes off, falling a few times. The bell rang, reminding Geonhak where he was at this moment, opening his eyes again. This time, the person he is looking for meets his eyes.
The now maroon haired man walks toward him in no hurry, despite arriving late. Youngjo’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, a silent apology, knowing full well that Geonhak had no other option but to accept it. He always does.
“You’re late,” he stated the obvious, struggling to keep himself awake. Youngjo nodded. No words. Nothing. Geonhak scolds his own heart for beating out of pace in protest.
“Want to order something?” Geonhak shoos away the silence figuratively, he might not be able to keep this man around for long. Call him pathetic for trying to hold onto Youngjo’s retreating hand.
“Just some Americano, like usual?” Youngjo tilts his head, a habit. Geonhak nods, leaving the table to put in their order. While he waited, his eyes were shutting over and over again. Geonhak felt the lids of his eyes somehow persist to be glued. The anger ripples through his chest, both from his body demanding sleep and his mind telling it to stop demanding sleep.
When their coffees are finished and both of them are in his hands, Geonhak takes his steps carefully. He made his way to the table, where Youngjo waited. He had to resist the urge to pat himself on the back for not tripping over his own feet.
They talked a lot. Perhaps more of Youngjo talking and Geonhak listening. The man before him had a habit of living and continuing life as if things around him weren’t falling apart like forest fires. Perhaps it is because he wasn’t the one getting burned by it.
It was after the Black Mirror promotion had ended and they were sitting face to face. Just like this. Geonhak had mustered up the courage and dashed towards the burning sun to either be rejected or accepted. Or, being punched in the face, getting called a slur by the one he loved most, and possibly losing his place in ONEUS. He had confessed–is what he’s trying to do. In a way, he was rejected. But it wasn’t truly the rejection as he anticipated.
Youngjo spent more time with him after that. Sneaking around to hold his hand, hug him goodnight, and compliment him so much that the others had started to pick up on it too. Youngjo said no. He rejected him. But the actions he did afterward left Geonhak feeling lost and confused.
Did Youngjo hear him wrong? Or did Geonhak interpret everything wrong?
Youngjo suggested their usual meeting at the café, spending time and holding hands until they arrived back at the dorm. Geonhak however, noticed the small things that did change, for the worse, at least in his eyes.
How he always comes late to the café. The way he hides their hands anytime someone was walking nearby. The way Youngjo sometimes looked as if he’s pissed off when Geonhak asked him, what the fuck are they doing.
So Geonhak keeps silent. Letting Youngjo hold his hand, crinkles his eyes, and smiles like everything was fine. He likes coming and going as he pleases. Geonhak is a coward. Aren’t they the perfect match?
Youngjo liked attention. Attention given by Geonhak. But he knew that Youngjo loved any attention thrown his way, not from him specifically. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but here he is, always accepting Youngjo’s offer like some lovesick idiot.
He is a lovesick idiot.
He knows one day it won’t be enough. These scraps Youngjo throws his way will no longer suffice his hunger, and even if it does, it won’t last very long. Geonhak is greedy. Ever since he had decided to make the ache in his chest known he had been submerged into a pool of greed.
But now…
Youngjo holds his hand, walking side by side. The sunset upon their eyes graced the sky, painting the features of Youngjo’s face angelically. Geonhak caught the way his heart stutters inside his ribcage; the hunger is like a void wanting its inside curls and collapse-
He holds Youngjo’s hand tighter instead.
Geonhak won’t worry. He’ll love Youngjo enough for the both of them.