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It takes Jisung 6 minutes to answer the door.
Hyunjin counts. He glances at his phone approximately every 30 seconds, whenever it periodically feels like he’s been standing there for an eternity. He knocks at each interval too, uncaring of the inherent impoliteness or the annoyance it will likely bring. Despite his impatience, however, he would have stood there for hours if the situation necessitated. Because not only does Hyunjin know that Jisung is in there, but he’s not leaving without an answer.
The door creaks open slowly, painfully so, and it only adds to the displeasure itching underneath Hyunjin’s skin. By the time it’s wide enough to reveal the person behind it, Hyunjin thinks that itch is unavoidable to scratch, that the scowl on his face will give way to a beratement that his best friend absolutely deserves-
But then, he sees him. He really sees him, and the weight of two months of heartache cracks open his ribcage all at once.
It’s the sunken-eye look that gets him, Jisung’s eyes wide and searching. Almost as if he were scared. Hyunjin hates it, hates seeing that expression on him at all, hates being at the end of it. It’s so much to feel the hatred in his body like a current of nausea, practically making him stumble and sway on his feet. He reels it in though knowing how delicate of a situation it is, swallowing thickly, righting himself upwards despite the effort it takes. He has all these big, elephant emotions, while Jisung stands in front of him a meek bird, easily panicked at the drop of a hat.
“Hyunjin,” Jisung says quietly, and although his shoulders relax, his features do not brighten. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were coming.”
Hyunjin wants to scream. What is he doing here? He’s here because Jisung wouldn’t pick up the fucking phone. He’s here because they haven’t seen each other in two months, and Hyunjin feels like he’s breaking apart at the seams without him. He’s here because Jisung has someone else in his fucking life and suddenly Hyunjin is just— “I called,” he blurts out, hoping that when he pushes his hands in his pockets, it will quell the tremor. “You didn’t answer.”
Jisung’s lips part as he blinks. It makes him look so guiltless. “Ah.. sorry. I—” and Hyunjin waits with bated breath, to see if this negligible confrontation will bear any fruit, “I must have had my phone off.”
When it doesn’t, Hyunjin’s lips pull into a strained smile. “That’s okay,” he replies, tight-lipped, because what else can he even say? He’s not willing to scare Jisung off, not when he had just started to remember what his shadow looked like again. Reluctant to forget it once more, Hyunjin asks, “Can I come in?”
Jisung— he hesitates. Shoulders squaring up. Gaze averted. “My place really isn’t… hah.. fit for guests right now…”
“I don’t mind how it looks,” Hyunjin answers automatically, a little taken aback that Jisung would even consider him a ‘guest.’ He’s been in his apartment at times Jisung hasn’t— it’s practically his second home.
It hurts that Jisung still looks resistant, his fingers pinching around the skin at the back of his neck, a nervous habit Hyunjin is all too familiar with. Hyunjin’s stomach would turn even at the mere implication that Jisung is nervous around him, so to be faced with such obvious tension has Hyunjin horrified. In a last ditch attempt to return to some kind of normalcy, Hyunjin urges, “Jisung... It’s just me.”
It doesn’t seem to have the proper relieving effect that Hyunjin had been hoping for. Jisung does stand to the side, pulling the door further open to allow Hyunjin in, yet the expression on his face remains apprehensive. If this had been a normal day, if this hadn’t been the first time they’d seen each other in months, Hyunjin would have taken him by the shoulders, cradled his head in his hands and squished his cheeks until Jisung was forced to smile against his persistent fingers. The fact that Hyunjin is uncertain he’s allowed to even do that much is devastatingly telling.
Once Hyunjin’s toed his shoes off, he follows Jisung down the narrow hallway of his entrance to his living room, hoping to start a polite conversation of what he’s been up to— but stops in his tracks when he enters. Suddenly, Jisung’s fretful mannerisms make a whole lot of sense.
Cardboard boxes litter his living room floor; stacked upon each other, pushed into corners, peaking from behind barriers. His ivory walls, now barren of any decor, scream at Hyunjin like the way a shrill light buzzes hazardously. The carpet beneath his socks feels like quicksand where he stands frozen in place. “What-?”
“Surprise! I’m moving,” Jisung smiles awkwardly, walking into Hyunjin’s line of sight to properly gauge his reaction. When he sees the shock written all over Hyunjin’s face, his smile becomes a grimace. “Sorry. I know I should have told you, I just— it’s been a lot, and it was kind of a spontaneous choice, I haven’t really gotten around to telling anyone-”
“Where are you going?” Hyunjin asks, nearly breathless, heart in the pit of his stomach.
“Well… I’m moving in with Chan.”
The way Jisung says it, chin tucking towards his chest, smile spreading across his face, bashful yet excited— it makes Hyunjin so sick. Nothing about this is right, nothing about it makes sense, and Hyunjin is so tired of acting like he isn’t turning inside out. Jisung continues to chitter on, something about leases and new beginnings and frequent visits, but Hyunjin is barely tuned in, barely even able to make out Jisung’s silhouette with the way his vision is going blurry. Maybe that’s what makes it happen. Maybe it's the unspoken words lodged for months in the muscles of his throat, or the crack in his chest that’s already deepened to his heart, but Hyunjin’s filter of guilt and shame don’t stop him this time when he mutters, “I haven’t even met him.”
He must have interrupted, because Jisung takes a second to catch up. “Huh? Oh— don’t worry, I’ve been asking him if we can all meet up sometime, so that’s definitely going to-”
“I haven’t met him.” Hyunjin’s tone is sharp, his voice rising. “I barely— remember what he looks like, and you’re moving in with him?”
Jisung, ever the type to flounder with conflict, slips into a joking tone. “Hah.. Sorry, didn’t know I needed your approval-”
“I’m your best friend, Jisung!” Hyunjin shrieks, so abrupt and brutish with his rage, it makes Jisung jump. “I’m your-!” Everything, he wishes he could say, I wish I was your everything.
“Hyunjin…” Jisung starts, voice laced with concern despite how cagey his hunched up shoulders and furrowed eyebrows make him look. “Why are you angry..?”
When Hyunjin blinks, his lashline is wet. “Because this isn’t right,” he remains resolute, and maybe a part of him is being selfish, but he can’t seem to care. “You barely know him.”
“Okay, that’s not true,” Jisung reasons, “You don’t think I’ve thought this through? I’m not moving in with a stranger. He’s my boyfriend.”
Hyunjin’s expression sours noticeably. He scoffs. “Slapping a label on it doesn’t make it any more reasonable, you know.”
“So you’re saying I’m an idiot.” Jisung’s gaze is unyielding, boring into him. “Right? That’s what you’re saying?”
The shift in tone has Hyunjin’s icy anger thawing at the corners. “No, Jisung, of course not-”
“Then what are you saying? ‘Cause it sounds like you don’t trust me to make my own damn decisions.”
“It's not that I don’t trust you, it’s just-” Hyunjin bites his bottom lip. With his fury melting, some of the filter is making its way back up his tongue.
Jisung insists vehemently. “What? It’s what?”
He didn’t want it to come out this way, but he knows now this is his last chance to be honest. “I know you say he’s a good guy,” Hyunjin starts, gaze falling, “And I know you’re happy with him but. I don’t know, ever since you met him, it’s like you’re a whole other person, and I just..” He exhales a shaky breath. “I just have a bad feeling.”
“Ooo, a bad feeling,” Jisung mocks, and it’s so out of character for him, especially after Hyunjin just bared his heart, that it has Hyunjin drawing his head back in disbelief. “Scary.”
“What the fuck,” he reacts, eyebrows furrowed, “What is your problem? See, this is what I meant, I don’t even recognize you anymore.”
“Maybe I’m just tired, Hyunjin,” Jisung is quick to bite back. “Maybe I’m tired of you acting like my fucking guard dog.”
“Guard dog?” His jaw is left hanging. “Where the hell is this coming from?”
“From everything? From— boyfriends, to texts, to restaurants. It all has to be vetted by you first.”
Hyunjin thinks he’s going insane. “We’re friends, Jisung. Friends do that for each other.”
“Well maybe I don’t want that kind of friendship,” Jisung huffs, and Hyunjin can only imagine he says it to be stubborn. But Hyunjin hasn’t seen Jisung be stubborn to him since they first met, when they were young and acne-prone.
“This has never been a problem before-” Hyunjin starts, hoping to poke a hole in the logic.
Jisung cuts him off sharply. “Before what? Before Chan?”
Hyunjin blinks. “Why are you getting so defensive about him?”
“Because I like him!” He’s scanning Jisung frantically, from his screwed-up face to his balled up fists, wondering where this had all gone wrong. “I’m sorry, maybe you just— don’t get it. Maybe when you have someone of your own-”
Hyunjin freezes. “… You think I don’t know what love feels like?”
They both know it’s a mistake. “Not- not like that-” Jisung backtracks, but the damage is already done. Flesh reopened.
Hyunjin laughs humorlessly. It’s so fucking ironic. “You know what,” he deadpans, “Fine. You do what you want. I’ll go back to my fucking miserable single life and-”
He had turned to make his way towards the entryway, adamant on shutting down any further argument, but Jisung—
Jisung catches his wrist.
He doesn’t turn at first, not when his throat is too tight and the backs of his eyes burn. It isn’t until he swallows it all down that he looks back, meeting Jisung eye to wide eye, shifting his attention from one to other as he tries to gather Jisung’s intention from his pupils alone.
The worst part of it is, Hyunjin still thinks about it. The fingers around his wrist, even though it burns. The worry in his eye, even though it means nothing. The idea of his lips pressed against his, because even after all of this Hyunjin still wants it, would give up any form of dignity just to have it. He’d give anything to have Jisung melt in his arms, have him arch into his touch, make him feel what love really means. He’d accept an apology in the form of his name spoken in reverence. Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin. “I’m sorry,” Jisung says barely over a whisper, “I didn’t mean— It’s just that Chan said-”
Hyunjin yanks himself out of his grip. For once, he decides the pain isn’t worth it. “Call me when you move,” he says, even though he knows Jisung won’t, but what would he be if not a creature tethered to love, if not the person who would lay himself open and pulsing for Jisung’s dirtied hands to use his blood as a cleanser. The worst part of it is, Hyunjin knows he’ll come back to bleed himself dry over and over again, even when Jisung deems his gushing veins unworthy.
A new layer of white has started to accumulate by the time Hyunjin exits the building, crunching underneath his shoes. He holds out a palm, lets the snowflakes rest and melt upon his skin. Not even the snow can numb him enough to forget that he’s left his heart beating at Jisung’s feet.
//
(Jisung will immediately call Chan. He’ll call him blubbering, sensitive thing that he is, and Chan will coo at him, sympathize but not forget to call him cute. He’ll shush him gently, tell him I know, I know honey, I told you this would happen, and invite himself over, despite Jisung claiming he doesn’t have to. But Chan is such a good guy, he’ll come with sushi, wipe Jisung’s tears, and distract him every time Jisung thinks about calling Hyunjin. He’ll remind him of Hyunjin’s guard dog tendencies, that maybe space is better for them both. He’ll make Jisung smile when he says, Lets move some boxes now, yeah? And when Jisung adds his toothbrush to the little cup he keeps at his sink, Chan will look at both of them together in the mirror and grin.)