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“I am supposed to be touched. I can’t wait to find the person who will come into the kitchen just to smell my neck and get behind me and hug me and breathe me in and make me turn around and make me kiss his face and put my hands in his hair even with my soapy dishwater drips. I am a lovely woman. Who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?”
- Jenny Slate, Little Weirds
Gunwook is warm.
His hands are always clammy, his cheeks bright red — the colour barely concealed under layers of foundation. His ears turn pink at the drop of a hat, his voice is sweet and pitches into a pretty thing when he's embarrassed. Matthew likes making a fool of himself just so he can hear it rising, cracking. The giggle that usually follows is so cute he can barely contain himself. Matthew wants to hold Gunwook’s blushed cheeks in the palms of his hands, wants to say all the right things until Gunwook melts into a puddle.
Most of all he wants to touch Gunwook and not feel like there's blood on his hands.
Gunwook’s bed is warm, the sheets smell clean and are always perfectly ironed. Matthew buries his face in the pillow, inhales deeply and waits for Gunwook to come back from the bathroom.
Just as he's beginning to doze off Gunwook cracks the door open, movements slow and careful. He always does this. Brings an extra hoodie, always puts on headphones, walks on tiptoes when it's late — he's overly considerate to others. Most of the time it makes Matthew smile with his teeth but sometimes it boils his blood. He wants Gunwook to disturb his sleep, wants him to prod and pry and bother him. Matthew torments him all the time. Sleeps in his bed, wears his clothes, uses his shampoo and body wash, his toothpaste, steals the last bite of whatever he's snacking on. Gunwook does none of that or at least not when the cameras are off. He's not shy around Matthew but he's not demanding either.
Instead Gunwook nuzzles under the duvet quickly and smiles prettily at Matthew. His breath smells minty and he's wearing the onesie Matthew bought for him. Without make-up he looks so much younger, more boyish. Matthew reaches a hand and ruffles his hair, makes a mess of it until it's sticking every which way. Gunwook doesn't complain. He just closes his eyes, face scrunching like an annoyed cat. His cheeks are red and his ears are red and Matthew wants to lean over and take a bite.
“You look tired.” Gunwook speaks up in a barely audible voice. The sky is clear tonight, the curtains are drawn and rays of moonlight have found themselves trapped inside Gunwook’s eyes. The way they sparkle is almost comical. It feels like they're on the set of a romcom and the light department is doing everything in their power to make it known — Gunwook likes him. It makes Matthew’s face drop.
“I am tired, we all are.” It's a none answer but Gunwook is used to that too so he just nods thoughtfully. Matthew wants to do this — talk to him in a hushed voice, sleep in his arms — and not feel guilty about it. It's impossible. If Matthew bathed his lashes the right way, the wrong way, Gunwook who's become so well versed in everything Seok Matthew, would lean over and kiss him. And Matthew would kiss him back and ruin it all.
“When is your flight scheduled?” Gunwook asks sweetly.
“Next Monday.” He's going home. Matthew hasn't been back in Vancouver for two years now. It's bizarre. He's afraid he'll get on the plane and never come back to Seoul. Lately that's all he's been able to think about. He cannot do it, not really but maybe once their contracts are over he'll hug Gunwook for the last time, promise to keep in touch and never see him ever again. Matthew doesn't want to be cruel, not to him, not to Hanbin, not to the others but it feels almost inevitable.
“You'll text me when you land, right?”
No. “Yeah, sure. It'll probably be the middle of the night for you, don't want to wake you up.”
“That's okay. I'll text back in the morning.”
“Okay, baby.” Matthew smiles and ruffles his hair again. He shouldn't. He should stop calling Gunwook that but he can't help it. Gunwook is his baby, Taerae is his honey, Jiwoong his hyung. They're all so good to him.
“Hyung?” Matthew hums softly. “Nothing.”
“Doesn't sound like nothing.” They both chuckle. Gunwook is quiet for a while so Matthew assumes it really was nothing. That or he didn't want to bring it — whatever it is — up after all.
“After it's over, what are you going to do?” Ah. So that's what this is about.
“Whatever my company decides I guess.” Gunwook raises an eyebrow. Matthew knows how he sounds — bored, indifferent. All of them already know more or less. Where they're heading, what path has been drawn for them. Matthew does too, he just never talks about it. Gyubin and Yujin are almost sure to re-debut together, Hao is fighting a losing battle to keep being active in Korea, Ricky has made peace with the fact that he won't and so on and so forth.
“They must have something lined up for you.” Gunwook keeps prodding. Matthew takes it all back. He likes that Gunwook is considerate off camera, that he never oversteps boundaries. Can't he see that Matthew doesn't want to have this talk now. Or ever, really.
“They do.” He answers despite himself. And that's the problem, Matthew thinks. They do have plans for him. But he doesn't want them. He loves being an idol, wouldn't trade these two years he gets to spend with them for the world. But that's it. He loves it but doesn't need it, doesn't crave it anymore. Not the way some of the others do anyways. It's fun but it was always meant to be just this. Fun. He stayed because. Because he loves being on stage, yeah, but also because of Hanbin. Soon that'll be over and Matthew’s fine with that. Even if borrowed they still got to spend this time together. Matthew stayed for him and now he can go back with no regrets.
Of course, he doesn't say any of that. He doesn't want to upset Gunwook.
“What about you, though?” Matthew fires back.
“What about me?”
“What have they got lined up for you?” Matthew knows where Gunwook’s career is headed because he is a part of the reason why. But Gunwook doesn't need to know that Jellyfish tried to buy him off, that Matthew declined.
“You can probably guess without me telling you.”
“Keita-hyung?” Gunwook nods and Matthew smiles. Genuinely. Keita is good. He's beyond talented, he's fun and a great friend. Perfect older brother, perfect leader. Matthew wishes he had debuted instead of him. Well, not all the time but every once in a while. Keita would have known what to do in this situation, what ailment to apply to the slowly festering wound smack in the middle of Gunwook’s chest. No. No, Keita wouldn’t be in this situation. He knows boundaries, knows how to be sweet and kind and malleable, but he knows boundaries. He wouldn’t find himself in Gunwook’s bed more often than in his own, wouldn’t have someone else at the back of his mind while fantasizing about kissing Gunwook, he wouldn’t. But Matthew is not him. He wishes he was but he’s not. All he knows is falling too fast, too deep, doing everything in the name of something – of someone – greater than himself. Everywhere he goes, everywhere he looks, Hanbin’s shadow follows him dutifully. Sung Hanbin. Half his dream, bane of his existence. Perfect idol, exemplary son, self-sacrificing leader Sung Hanbin.
There’s bile rising at the back of his throat. Matthew swallows it down.
Gunwook is looking at him sweetly as always. He nods: “I haven’t seen hyung in so long. It’s kind of reassuring, you know? That I get to work together with someone I know.” Matthew gets it. It’s Keita, after all.
“If you could debut with any of us, who would you choose?” Gunwook is cruel, Matthew thinks as his eyes trace the shape of his cupid’s bow. He could be considerate and say Gunwook’s name. In a way it wouldn’t even be a lie. I want to live together with Matthew-hyung. Hadn’t they promised each other this? A shared future? But Matthew cannot make the words tumble out.
“Hanbin-hyung?” Gunwook asks almost coyly. The stars are dancing, reflecting in his eyes and it’s hypnotic. Matthew wants to reach a hand and grab a hold of them, count them. It feels like the entire universe is stored just within reach.
“I guess so.” Matthew smiles his easy smile, the one that makes boys and girls swoon and watches Gunwook’s eyebrow twitch almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know, it doesn’t matter.”
“I guess not.” Gunwook nods and Matthew feels a burning palm squeezing at his waist. It’s hot, scaldingly so. He needs to swat it away before it burns through the delicate layers of skin and reaches everything it shouldn’t reach.
“What about you, baby, who would you choose?” Matthew tries to ask back teasingly but it just comes out wrong. Too sincere, too indifferent, too suggestive. Despite it all Gunwook looks at him kindly, his eyes round and forgiving.
“You know the answer to that, hyung. You, of course. Always you.” Of course – because it’s obvious, because he’s said it a million times already, because he loves Matthew. And Matthew loves him, he does. He would be stupid not to. Gunwook is kind of the perfect guy. Smart and genuine and sensitive. Youthful and full of vigor. Adventurous, confident, handsome. What more could Matthew possibly ask for?
“Don’t feel bad.” Gunwook smooths the crease in his eyebrow. His touch burns. Matthew wants to get away, wants to get closer, wants to. “Hanbin-hyung is Hanbin-hyung, and I’m me. I know that.” Matthew wants to protest, wants to get angry and scream and maybe even throw up. But he can’t because Gunwook is right. No matter how hard he zeroes in, no matter how much he seeks Gunwook out, it’s different. It’s not wrong or bad, but it’s different. He wants to take Gunwook stargazing and not think about how this is the same spot Hanbin showed him all these years ago. He wants to hold Gunwook’s hand without comparing the weight, how different it is, foreign, how Hanbin’s used to be sturdier, palms more calloused.
He wants to give Gunwook the experience of a sweet, harmless first love. Soft kisses and clumsy hands and bathed breaths, but he can’t do that. Everything Matthew is Hanbin. If Gunwook kissed him deep enough he’d be able to taste what lingers – Hanbin. If he holds his hand he'll find a palm shaped to carry Hanbin’s. If he gets between his thighs, presses a palm to the small of his back – Hanbin, Hanbin, Hanbin.
And despite it all Matthew asks, voice barely a whisper: “Gunwookie, do you want to kiss me?”
A nod, a soft press of lips against his own. There’s no hesitation just as Matthew had expected. It’s not confidence because he’s probably Gunwook’s first kiss. It’s desire in that particularly naive and drunk way it manifests at nineteen. Gunwook smothers him, drinks him in big gulps, doesn’t give him space to breathe and Matthew lets him. It feels good. Being desired. Being someone’s number one.
Matthew gasps softly, tries to push Gunwook away but instead brings him closer, presses their lips harder.
I’m sorry. Thank you. I wish it wasn’t me. I wish it wasn’t you. There’s a million things Matthew could say, wants to say. None of them make it past his lips, all get stuck in his throat with no way out. It hurts. Matthew tries to swallow them but persistently they stay there, scrape at the tender flesh until it bleeds. Matthew chokes and it could be the blood but it could also be Gunwook’s hands circling his waist, holding him tight.
“It’s okay.” Gunwook whispers into his ear but it’s not okay. Matthew should be the one soothing him, kissing the shell of his ear, whispering sweet promises into it. Instead it’s the other way around. “It’s okay, hyung.” Gunwook says again, lips trailing down his neck and Matthew almost believes him.
It’s all Matthew has ever wanted – for someone to come into his kitchen and be hungry for him.
He doesn’t text Gunwook when he lands in Vancouver.
“Has Matthew texted you since he-” the words are left to drift but Gunwook has become intimately acquainted with the way Hanbin thinks, worries, agonizes. What he means to ask is if Matthew has texted him since he landed in Canada and the answer would be no. He shot a quick message to their group chat, a cute photo with his sister but he hasn’t texted Gunwook personally. Or Hanbin, it seems.
“He’s probably busy unpacking.” Gunwook offers, voice soothing, beyond sweet and he can see Hanbin melting, almost believing it. “I’m sure he’ll text you soon, hyung.” Gunwook tries to stay level-headed but he’s confused. Matthew not texting him is. Well, it stings a little, of course it does. But him not reaching out to Hanbin is something else. Peculiar, a little unsettling. Who else would he seek out if not Hanbin?
“Are you worried?” Gunwook asks tentatively. He’s not sure what kind of an answer he’s expecting. Of course, Hanbin would worry. He is Hanbin, after all. Their leader, their pillar, the blood in their veins, the warmth in their hearts, their Sung Hanbin. Maybe that is precisely why he’s come to expect less than honest answers. It’s not that Hanbin lies to him, it’s more along the lines that Hanbin lies to himself. In his stead to achieve this perfect image of himself – exemplary idol, flawless role model – Hanbin has gained about as much as he has lost. No price is too high to pay, not in his desperate pursuit of preeminence it would seem.
“No, of course not. No one is better at taking care of himself than Matthew.” he says it so surely and it kind of makes Gunwook sick to his stomach, something small but angry bubbling, trying to swim its way to the surface. Hanbin is resting his cheek against the steady rise and fall of Gunwook’s chest and it should feel nice, should feel right. Instead, all Gunwook can feel is a kind of budding rage. Still an embryo but red and unforgiving nonetheless. Yes , Matthew can take care of himself. Doesn’t mean that he wants to. Matthew, as much as he pretends he doesn’t, needs a helping hand. Something warm and steady at the small of his back. Propelling him, guiding him forward. And that something is Hanbin. For years it has been Hanbin. There is no way his hyung is blind to that, is there?
Hanbin’s breathing is slow and steady. Gunwook listens and waits for him to fall asleep but he doesn’t. Instead Hanbin snuggles even further into his chest, tightens his arms impossibly around his waist and Gunwook feels on the right side of suffocated. It’s nice. It shouldn’t be nice, but it is. Matthew’s hands are sure but they still treat him gently. Hanbin on the other hand squeezes down almost painfully so. Gunwook’s sure he’s not even aware of it. Everything Hanbin lies in the subconscious.
Gunwook knows Hanbin is not a bad person. But the way he holds people, which sometimes borders on painful; the way he casts them away unknowingly, replaces them with something newer, shinier – it’s bad. It’s bad and it’s painful and Gunwook knows he doesn’t do it on purpose but it still hurts. He’s hurting for Matthew’s sake. And for Hao’s sake. And for–
He’s hurting.
“Gunwook-ah?” Hanbin speaks up. It’s sudden. Quiet, unexpected. Voice a whisper but there’s only millimeters separating them so Gunwook hears it as loud as a gunshot. He hums to let Hanbin know he’s listening. “Is Matthew mad at me?”
That’s so silly , Gunwook wants to say, to laugh. Don’t be ridiculous, hyung.
“Why don’t you ask him, hyung?” Answering a question with a question is cheap. Fighting fire with fire never works, but Gunwook wants to be mean – just a little bit. Hanbin had looked so tired when he crawled into his bed, drowsy and completely spent. Gunwook should be a good younger brother, should smile cutely and talk sweetly, should give Hanbin the answers he wants to hear. But he can’t. Rarely if ever Gunwook feels so in control of his body. He knows his strength, the power he possesses. He could choose to be kind, he could run a hand through Hanbin’s unruly hair and tell him it’ll all be okay. He does none of that.
“I don’t want to assume–” Hanbin doesn’t get to finish his train of thought.
“Well, maybe you should.” Gunwook shapes his words into something pointy – a needle, a thistle, a knife. They’re out before he can stop them from striking. Resentment, bitterness, quiet rage – they ooze from Gunwook’s words in waves. Trying to hide them turns out to be impossible.
Hanbin lifts his head up and looks at him, eyes shifty.
“So he is mad at me?” he asks and it sounds pitiful. “Did he talk to you about it? Why?”
Of course, Matthew hasn’t talked to him about it. Hanbin could spit in his face and Matthew would still find a way to not complain about it.
“Hyung,” Gunwook starts, unsure of where the sentence will finish. How does he put this into words? These feelings — they're not even his own, so how does he even begin to explain them? It's not his place to do it. Talk about them, expose them to the one they're aimed at. But shouldn't Hanbin know ? Isn't it obvious? Or has Gunwook gotten too close to the point where Matthew’s blues have become thin, almost transparent, see through?
Gunwook wants to reach through the screen separating them and run his hand through Matthew’s unruly hair, wants to touch his face – red and acne ridden because of how stressed he’s been lately. It’s a quiet kind of stress. That or maybe Matthew is a good actor. That or maybe Gunwook is the only person who bothers to really look at him – bones and all. Bare thread, naked. That’s who Matthew is when he crawls into his bed. He can do none of that so instead he presses down with all his weight onto Hanbin, and tries to suffocate him.
“What?” Hanbin cuts his reminiscing short and that’s when Gunwook realizes he started speaking but never finished. And anyways what is he supposed to say? Matthew is in love with you. He’s in love with you but you don’t even look into his eyes anymore. He cooks you breakfast and washes your sheets when you’re too tired to run them and pulls the duvet over you when you fall asleep on the couch in the living room, and you don’t even come into his kitchen anymore.
“Hyung, if Matthew-hyung never made it into the group, would you be sad?” Hanbin looks grief-stricken, naturally so. He’s extremely good at contorting his features, making his face look distorted, like a drawing in the sand getting washed away by the waves. It’s not quite hurt and it’s not quite betrayal that’s written on his face, though Gunwook wouldn’t blame him for the latter. He’s overstepping, he knows it is. Worse yet, he’s being mean intentionally. The things Hanbin has done for their group, the amount he has sacrificed cannot be overstated and yet. Why did Matthew smile so bitterly, why did he leave their dorm so readily? Why–
“Why would you ask me that?”
Gunwook has already started digging, may as well get to the bottom of it: ”Well, would you?”
“I–of course I would be sad. He’s my… my Matthew.” Hanbin’s eyes keep getting rounder and wetter and Gunwook is already bracing himself for the tears. But he keeps going; he’s not sure why but he does.
“Then why?” Hanbin clutches his sides, untrimmed nails digging through the thin material of Gunwook’s sleep shirt. The question is ambiguous but a guilty consciousness never fails to shine through.
“I love him, I–When was this ever a question?”
“Then why did you break-up with Hao-hyung?”
“This has nothing to do with it.”
“But of course it does. You were happy and Matthew-hyung was happy for you. Then out of the blue you lost interest and you went back to this – back hugs and pet names and asking him to cook for you. Isn’t that unfair, hyung? Aren’t you leading him on?”
“It doesn’t concern you.” And he’s right in a way. It doesn’t concern him because what is he to Matthew anyway? A cute younger brother – someone to cling to and play around with and go on little dates with. Gunwok knows that’s what Matthew sees him as. Possibly all he’ll ever see him as. Yet still.
“Maybe, but when you broke up with hyung you two made it everyone’s business.”
“That’s not–”
“Not true? Of course. None of the fanmeeting and content adjustments we made were real too, right?” Hanbin for all his composure, his poise, his strive for compromise and finding the middle ground, obsesses over things, over people so easily. He stops being impartial once the infatuation properly sets in. Gunwook can’t help but wonder if it was all for naught? The sugar sweet smiles and the stolen touches; sneaking around in the dead of the night, the giggles that always gave them away? How could Hanbin throw all that away not once but twice?
“Why did you break-up with Hao-hyung?” Hanbin can no longer hold his gaze. Instead of getting up and leaving, preserving his dignity, he buries his face in the crook of Gunwook’s neck.
“It’s complicated, we just – it was a mutual agreement.”
“Does Hao-hyung know that?” Gunwook knows the answer to that question, most if not all of them do.
“I’m not sure.” it’s about as honest an answer he’ll get so Gunwook hums in acknowledgment.
“He was so,” Hanbin’s voice sounds strained, like he’s fighting to get it to come out. “He was so beautiful. And it all felt so right, you know? I really did love him, I still do.”
“I know you did.” Gunwook sighs. He does believe Hanbin. For as unintentionally fickle as he can be sometimes, Gunwook doubts he’d risk their career for some small crush. The weight of Hanbin’s feelings is always this enormous, always this tidal and unforgiving. All Gunwook has to do is look at their faces – Matthew’s and Hao’s and he can see all the places where Hanbin has loved them to the point of bruising. “It just ended so abruptly, hyung. And you – you moved on so quickly.” One second he was all over Hao and the next it was a fit to see them together outside of schedules. Hao never gave it away, how much Hanbin hurt him. But just once he had also knocked on Gunwook's door. He didn’t cry and he didn’t say much, just laid there for a while, then he plastered himself to Gunwook’s back and went to sleep.
“Gunwook-ah, do you like Matthew?”
Gunwook laughs, which is obviously not the answer Hanbin was expecting. What a silly question. Does he like Matthew? Is the sky blue? Does the sun rise from the east? Of course he does, how can he not? Matthew with his charming smile and his lovely voice, which could rival a siren’s. Matthew who has the sun trapped inside him, shining, twinkling, radiating off every inch of his skin. Matthew who hasn’t answered his texts yet, who bewitches people and leaves them forevermore under his spell with no resound.
“Who doesn’t like Matthew-hyung?”
“You know what I mean, Gunwook-ah. Do you like him?”
And Gunwook could lie because he doesn’t owe Hanbin his shame nor his desire. No, not shame, never shame. He loves Matthew and Matthew deserves to be loved unabashedly. Gunwook wants to carry this love with pride, to weave it in his hair, tattoo it on his skin so everyone can tell at a glance. At twenty he has fallen for Seok Matthew. Doesn’t matter if it’s true love, if it’s meant to last. It feels good, it feels right. No one can take it away from him – the world’s greatest first love.
“I do.” I do. I do. Important things should be said thrice. “I like him so much.”
Hanbin’s eyes turn into perfect circles, wide and afraid. Gunwook braces himself for the inevitable – the tears, the snot, the ugly, throaty noises. Hanbin is many things – a leader worth following, a brother worth admiring, a man worth emulating, a beauty worth dying for. He’s also an ugly crier. Gunwook has seen it a few times, the way his shoulders sag, the way the facade breaks, face morphing into a hideous grimace. The walls fall down and all that’s left is someone shaped by paranoia. Sung Hanbin’s foundation is love but under all the love lays a sticky layer of insecurities, anxiety, dread. Gunwook has seen Matthew hold him when it happens, has seen Matthew try to right all the wrongs, erase all the mugginess. No one does it better than him – taking care of Sung Hanbin.
“I’m sorry.” Hanbin chokes out around a sob. “Gunwook-ah, I’m sorry. It’s hyung’s fault.”
Gunwook, despite himself, smiles again. He feels light as a feather.
“What for?”
“It’s my fault that Matthew doesn’t…” he trails off because he’s Sung Hanbin and every admission to a fault is grave and unforgivable. Hanbin’s every action, every world, feels like he’s bracing for some higher being to reach out from the sky and scoop him, punish him accordingly.
And anyways it’s his fault that what? That Matthew doesn’t like him back? That he kisses Gunwook even though he doesn’t like him back? What does it matter anyways. Gunwook didn’t fall for him expecting an easy love, something slow and steady and sure. He fell for him because Matthew, despite how much he tries to hide it, to trample it down for everyone else’s comfort is a hurricane. He’s strong and unforgiving and even a little mean. Matthew’s spiteful despite his very best efforts not to be, he wants things which were never meant to be his and he acts in ways which no friend, no hyung, no lover is supposed to act like.
In this sense of course it would be Hanbin, it couldn’t have been anyone else but Hanbin. Birds of a feather, two mirrors facing each other, reflecting off the other.
“Yeah, it is.” Gunwook confirms Hanbin’s greatest fear but he doesn’t feel bad about it. It can’t be mean if it’s the truth. Hanbin clutches his shirt tighter and continues soaking it up with his tears and his snot and his spit. “So what if it is your fault? It was supposed to happen like this. I’m not mad about it or, I don’t think I am. Not really.”
First loves always come to an end, it’s in the name itself. If it had to happen, Gunwook is glad it was Matthew. He’ll love Matthew tomorrow and next month, probably next year, too. In two years Matthew will be a fresh wound, in three a scar, in five a memory.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, hyung. Just talk to Matthew.”
Just when Hanbin is starting to believe Matthew will never return, he walks through their dorm’s front door. The suitcase he’s carrying is big enough to pack his entire life into and maybe he had done just that last week.
“Welcome home.” Matthew’s skin looks tanned and warm, the crinkles around his eyes and his smile lines look deeper, his back straighter. This is not the Matthew who left seven days ago, which makes the welcome home feel awkward, insincere almost. This is not a Matthew Hanbin is familiar with. And Hanbin has seen Matthew. Maybe not every version of him but surely most. The cute kid who stumbled over his words but would turn into a shiny star as soon as music came on, the sweet younger brother who would always sing Hanbin’s praises, the shy boy losing all his innocence in the back seat of Hanbin’s car.
Hanbin has always felt so well-versed in Seok Matthew, confident that aside from his family, he’s the person who knows Matthew best.
As he watches Matthew take off his shoes, sparing Hanbin only the smallest of nods, he realizes how wrong that belief is, how delusional, how insulting. Maybe it was true at one point in time, but the longer Hanbin stares at the back of Matthew’s head, the more it downs on him. When was the last time he ate the food Matthew cooks for him? When did he last wish Matthew a good night, tucked him into his bed?
Unknowingly he’s become a ghost in Matthew’s life. Something on the outskirts, barely there, visible only when he’s feeling sorry for himself and seeking Matthew's familiarity, his warmth.
“How was your trip?”
“Perfect.” Matthew smiles and it’s so genuine, so earnest. Hanbin hasn’t seen him smile like this in months. Has Gunwook?
“It was so perfect I kind of didn’t want to come back.” He says it jokingly or tries to. Instead it ends up sounding too genuine, too raw. It’s a confession. An unintentional one but a confession nonetheless. Hanbin sighs. It was a long time coming, he knew it deep down but never wanted to think about it, to accidentally speak it into existence.
“Matthew-yah.” Hanbin says his name and Matthew finally looks up, finally looks at him. “Matthew.” he says it again, this time like a prayer for which no words exist.
Hanbin can tell Matthew is tired, anyone would be after a twenty hour flight. Still, he wants to be selfish one last time. Wants Matthew’s attention all to himself so he can remember it when it’s no longer there. This time probably for good.
“What is it, hyung?” Usually he would sit next to Hanbin, leg to leg, arm to arm. Instead he hasn’t moved on from the doorframe, leaning awkwardly against it.
“I love you. I love you and I’m sorry.”
Matthew presses his lips into a tight line. He doesn’t speak for a while, letting the silence fester. Hanbin deserves it but it still hurts, everything Matthew feels either like a kiss or like a punch to the gut.
In the end Matthew sighs tiredly: “You’re really awful, you know that right?”
Hanbin nods. Of course he does.
Matthew runs his hand through his hair, then through his face. He sighs: “Why now?”
“I don’t know.”
“If we’re having this conversation I need you to be honest with me, just this once.” Hanbin’s heart squeezes. Being honest with Matthew? Hasn’t he always done that? Surely that cannot also be a thing of the past. How despicable.
“It’s because I don’t want you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Aren’t you?” Matthew doesn’t answer that, at least not with words. He just makes this little pained expression, then looks at the ground and Hanbin immediately misses it. His warm gaze.
“I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Matthew, do you love me?” Hanbin wants to whisper the question into Matthew’s ear but there’s an ocean separating them. How did he let the distance grow this insurmountable? It couldn’t have happened over night.
“It doesn’t matter, not anymore.”
“I know I-I haven’t been good to you lately but I’ll do better, I swear. Just let me.”
“It’s not about mending wrongs or doing right by me, it’s just not enough anymore. Us loving each other.”
“It can be.”
“No it can’t.” Matthew rubs his face again and tries to keep his voice from shaking. “I stayed for you, okay? And I don’t regret that. I love you and I love that we got to do this together. The stage means very little without you to share it with. But I’m tired. Honestly? I’m barely holding on at this point. I want to go home, hyung. I want to raise a cat and to try going to uni again. I want to go out drinking and to hold someone’s hand without the guilt eating me alive. I love you but it’s not enough, not anymore.”
Hanbin wishes he could say he hadn’t seen it coming but he had. It doesn’t make hearing the words any less painful, doesn’t soften the blow one bit. If anything it makes the sting that much worse. He had seen it coming and he had done nothing to prevent it.
“I’m tired. Good night, hyung.” Before Matthew can retreat into his room Hanbin stupidly, selfishly, against his better judgement, grabs Matthew’s wrist.
“What about in the future?” Matthew looks at him quizzingly then slowly eases into a smile. Hanbin is awful now and he knows it, but that wasn’t always the case. He was once Matthew’s first love, first kiss, first everything. He can tell that the Hanbin Matthew is seeing right now is younger, sweeter, kinder.
“Sure. If you still want me in ten years we can try again then. You know where to find me.” It’s a joke mostly but there must be some truth in it. Hanbin wants to believe there is.
“I know. At uni, in a bar, holding someone’s hand and feeling no guilt over it.” Hanbin recites the words dutifully. “I’ll see you in ten years, then.” Matthew finally smiles, genuinely. Hanbin can’t help doing the same.
“Don’t keep me waiting this time. Good night, hyung.”