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Jihoon didn’t know how it happened first—how everything suddenly made sense to him. After all these years, he couldn’t say that he had any experience with love. Infatuation, sure. But love? It’s too big of a word for him; it required a lot of commitment, something strong, a feeling so passionate that if it was a flame it’s an angry shade of red ready to consume you whole and it takes great courage for you to get there. In other words, he doesn’t know how it’s supposed to happen.
At first his smile started to linger a little bit longer on his lips when the boy he calls his best friend brought him his ice-cold can of Coke Zero. It was the first time he felt warmth creep up his neck up to his cheeks as he softly mutters thank you.
He doesn’t know when it started feeling like his stomach was doing somersaults when the taller one wraps his arm over his shoulders. It wasn’t something new, he’s always been clingy. But this time, Jihoon felt like goosebumps rose from his skin. It happened every single time their skins touched ever so slightly and he felt embarrassed yet he’s not against the feeling.
“Where are you going?” The older boy woke up from his slumber when he heard rustling. He had crazy bed hair, his white shirt very badly creased, and the sides of his eyes had crusts on them, yet Jihoon still thinks he looked beautiful.
“To get milk. You’ve been eating cereal way too often recently.” Jihoon chuckled as he picked up his phone and wallet from their common table.
“I’ll go with you.” His roommate immediately got up, afraid that the younger boy would leave him if he didn't hurry.
He really didn’t have to—he’s only getting two boxes of milk that would hopefully last them the entire week or two. Still, Jihoon felt warm.
At one point in their ten years of friendship, his best friend felt like the sunshine that he looks forward to every morning. Suddenly, he’s the comfort that he continues to long for, a big part of his life he doesn’t think he’ll ever trade for anything else.
“Soonyoung.” He tried to talk with himself as he stared at his reflection on their bathroom mirror. “I think I’m in love with him.”
Jihoon never had any experience with love, but for some reason, he was sure that this was it—despite the contrast in what he first believed in. Love wasn’t always passionate; it was the serene mornings in winter, hot chocolate in hand. It was the soft and warm snuggle of your favorite blanket, the crisp of the first flip of the book you just bought, the comfortable laughs when talking about trivial things. It’s comfortable, secure, and it’s a nice feeling.
Love wasn’t supposed to be a flame that is always big and brightly lit—sometimes it’s tame, like the ones in candles, only enough to bring warmth, yet something so constant. Soonyoung is his constant, and he’s never been so sure before.