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People say that they were the greatest result of a fusion could ever be. A collision of something so different yet created something magnificent. At some point, Hyunjin agreed with them. They matched well, clicked in so many ways, filling each other’s gap with a mere presence of hearty laughter in chilly autumn.
Just when Hyunjin thought he understood what love actually means, he came to a realisation that Minho wasn't the type to stick around and commit. Yet with all the hazards ahead, he thrust his weary heart upon the crushing hand of Minho. Despite everyone’s warning, Hyunjin fell head first into the dangerous game they played: playing pretend.
Pretending that what they have right now is such a thing between two-tied souls, pretending that he’s okay with both boys and girls Minho introduced him to on their usual Saturday dinner, pretending the way Minho held his hands every now and then did not affect him even a bit. Pretending that Minho who can’t even answer his simple question of “What are we exactly?” did not leave his heart an open, unhealed wound for months. Pretending that “Let’s just see where this goes,” from the older did not hurt him in the slightest—when in reality it just cut his wound deeper, with memories that they knitted together flew out of the cut instead of blood.
His lips turned upward into a bitter smile, one that didn't reach his eyes, as Minho’s hands snakes around his middle and pulled him closer as he brushed his teeth. Hyunjin glanced at their reflection in the mirror—Oh, what a perfect picture. And once again, he gave in to the feelings, letting it consume him whole. Dwelling on the danger and sacrificing himself for the sake of being with the older.
The question is: how long is this game going to last?
And this time, Hyunjin can’t even answer his own query.
—
Four seasons had passed since the end of their two-years bound. Hyunjin admitted his defeat and walked away on his will. Yet after a whole leap around the Sun, Hyunjin still wants to believe that he is fine just like how Minho seems to be. Or at least just how Minho’s online presence showed him to be.
Today’s weather is not as dreary as how December air should feel, thus he decided to walk instead of taking the subway. It must be a coincidence that Hyunjin is dressed in a long coat and fluffy scarf that Minho used to love as he’s walking down the riverside. The road looks just the same, the only difference this time is his feelings.
Holding on to uncertainty was never Hyunjin’s forte and it’s almost expected that they eventually parted ways. Hyunjin used to wander a lot, what if he linger around a bit longer and convince Minho to take a chance with him, would they still have it? If Minho looked at him the same way he looked at his silly crush, would Hyunjin walk here and see Minho on that bench instead of walking home alone?
But as every sane person would say, these what-ifs were such a waste of time. They weren’t even a thing back then, anyway.
The first day of winter fills his senses with the smell of ginger cookies from the bakery a few steps away from where he stood and lingering old feelings, and Hyunjin’s not trying to fight it when a flake of clear snow reminds him a bit of Minho. It’s delicate, one touch and it would liquify into his hands.
He sat on one of the benches, facing the steady stream of the river with long limbs pressed together. Hyunjin fished out his phone from his pocket and went through his archived messages, unconsciously wandering around their old conversation. They used to send pictures of the sky, silly image texts that they found after hours on the internet, or an unprovoked “I’ll crash on your place tonight”s.
Hyunjin snickered at that, possessing only those texts as the only remnants of what they started. It’s a lie if Hyunjin thinks those days weren’t beautiful, because they were.
—
“I come to terms with the fact that I am a lovelorn," Hyunjin said to particularly no one; writing down what he just said in his little journal that he always carries around. The faint sound of graphite meets the paper were heard—as he doodled a face so familiar that he will never have the heart to unlearn, Minho.
“Though when you say you'll stay for one more hug, or when you tell me how much I shine under the Christmas lights," the air feels heavier as he paused to mourn the demise of his devotion, “I hope you mean it.”
Hyunjin was still bitter over the fact that he never got to feel the depth of Minho’s embrace after the intense war that led him to walk away, that one long hug that the older always gave away—the one that won’t lingers shorter than a song, the one that won’t fade quickly just like a cheap perfume Hyunjin got on that drugstore. That’s why, even though they never really talk anymore, Hyunjin hopes Minho would grow into a bigger person, hoping he’ll start to put some weight to his words so more people won’t be walking around with empty words and broken trusts. Unlike him before.
Sometimes Hyunjin missed the way Minho’s laugh would heal his tiring day in an instant, missed the way their knees would brush to one another when they crumpled up on the years old sofa, missed the way his gleaming eyes would convince him to take on another adventure—ones that Hyunjin never regret per se.
But Hyunjin knows better than to get lost inside the sheer incantation that is constantly luring him in. He knows that if he stays, he will never be the person that Minho needs, let alone desired. He won’t fall into the same trap all over again. Thus he is beyond grateful for the gravity in himself that always pulled him back at the last millisecond. As much as he loved Minho, for the love of God, Hyunjin can’t bear the weight of losing himself too.
Maybe it was his defence mechanism trying to protect him from the potential affliction. Maybe it was his subconsciousness trying to keep him sober.
Or maybe, his bones couldn’t take another fracture.