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Summary
He reaches forward with a shaking hand, clutching Jongseong’s sleeve. The living room is alive with the sounds of all of their friends screaming and laughing. There is life in the house— life that makes a house a home— and yet Heeseung is still lonely.
It swallows him up. Wanting and longing and yearning, all blending together into the same thing. Synonyms for one another that don’t contrast. Doubt and fear and confusion.
Jongseong wraps his arms around him and sighs into his ear. “I’m right here, Hyung. You can relax now.”
Heeseung’s never been any good with words, and sometimes it kills him.
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(Heeseung and Jongseong are "just friends" — or something like that.)