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Jiwoong makes it a good two months. His friend had bet against him that he wouldn’t even last a week.
His apartment is an honest mess. There’s tissues piled up in his bedroom beside his bed from the rougher nights, take out boxes in the kitchen and dirty laundry piled by the washer. Jiwoong doesn’t want to clean up.
Zhang Hao
that apartment is filth, i assume
give me five.
“He hasn’t reached out to you, has he?”
Jiwoong isn’t a liar. Not that Zhang Hao would let it slip by him for long anyways. So he shrugs, handing over his phone to his friend and sinks into the couch cushions.
Break ups aren’t Jiwoong’s thing. He hates them. He hates feeling bitter, tasting sour on his tongue and salth when his eyes get too watery.
“Jiwoong. You should block him,” Hao says.
Jiwoong shrugs.
If Zhang Hao blocks Hanbin, Jiwoong doesn’t look at his messages long enough to notice. The apartment smells fresh a few hours later.
Jiwoong’s dreams haunt him at night. They’re of Hanbin. Of their dates. Of the years they’d spent together. Cafe dates, dinner nights, meeting the parents. The proposal, Hanbin’s favorite words.
Stay by my side like you always have.
Jiwoong wakes up staring at the ceiling of his unpacked apartment, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.
He won’t break his promise to Zhang Hao.
It turns out to not be Jiwoong that breaks the promise.
Hanbin does.
Jiwoong’s returning to work, nursing a headache from the reprimanding from his boss. Gunwook sets a coffee next to him on his desk, watching over him like a hawk as the hours of the shift drone on. He gets at least half of the pileup done before he calls it quits. “I can finish for you, hyung,” Gunwook says, looking at him.
“Ah, no. Don’t overwork yourself,” Jiwoong replies. “I’ll just do it tomorrow.”
Gunwook isn’t convinced at first, but Jiwoong pushes the remaining papers into his bag and signs off his computer. “Let me walk you out then, hyung.”
Jiwoong doesn’t have the heart to tell him no.
Gunwook is a sweet kid. Zhang Hao particularly enjoy his company. He’s quick witted but very perceptive. He knew something was up when Jiwoong returned to the office, but he said almost nothing.
Hanbin’s waiting by the front entrance as Gunwook and Jiwoong walk toward the door. His heart races, bruising his ribcage and his throat runs dry. Gunwook’s hand is quick to his side to hold him upward. “Are you alright?” He asks.
“I’m fine,” Jiwoong wheezes out. “Thanks, Gunwook.”
Hanbin doesn’t say a word until Jiwoong is right in front of him. “Can we talk?”
Jiwoong wants to say no.
Hanbin still lives in their shared apartment. It’s notably more empty now that Jiwoong isn’t there to fill in the space. “I’ve wanted to talk to you,” Hanbin starts.
“Don’t,” Jiwoong says sharpy. “Don’t do this, Hanbin.”
The younger turns around, wide eyed in his shock. Jiwoong wants to regret saying it. “I miss you.”
“You shouldn’t,” Jiwoong mutters.
Hanbin reaches out to grab his hand. Jiwoong doesn’t stop him. “I can’t do this,” he whispers. “Being without you.”
“Then why?” Jiwoong asks.
Hanbin broke up with him. Why?
“Please,” Hanbin says with sticky sadness. “I can’t let you go. I—I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know why I said it.”
Jiwoong doesn’t want to believe him. He has every right to leave right now and pretend like this isn’t real. That it’s all some sick dream he’s having. “That’s not an explanation.”
His hand slips slightly out of Hanbin’s grasp and the younger grabs him tighter. “Jiwoong, please. One more night. L-Let me make it up to you.”
“I still love you,” Hanbin mutters.
Jiwoong shakes his head. “You can’t. You… You called it off. The wedding, the engagement. Our relationship. Six years of it,” Jiwoong sighs deeply. “I can’t… I should go home.”
“I’ll do anything, Jiwoong.”
Hanbin looks at Jiwoong again, eyes flickering to avoid direct contact. He doesn’t want to see it, doesn’t want to admit it.
Jiwoong knows he’s still in love.
But he can’t do it.
“You’ve grown cold,” Hanbin whispers. “You’ve moved on.”
It’s a cruel twist of fate. Jiwoong hasn’t moved on. Jiwoong doesn’t think he’ll ever move on. But he has to. He should. Hanbin broke everything off. “Why did you do it?”
“I got scared.”
Jiwoong wakes up some time in the afternoon in his bed. His old bed. The ceiling has those glowing stars that Hanbin insisted on putting up when they got the apartment. The bed is empty, but it’s still warm.
When he walks into the kitchen, Hanbin’s cooking something. It might be the usual, the stuff that Jiwoong loves. His memory comes back to him in fuzzy flashes.
Just one more day Hanbin had said. One more and then one more until the end of our lifetimes.
Jiwoong wants to believe him.
Jiwoong wants to believe it’s real.
(Is this a dream?)
Jiwoong actually wakes up to Hao shaking him awake. “What happened?” Hao asks as his opens his eyes.
He stares up at his starless ceiling. “I saw him last night. He wanted a second chance.”
Zhang Hao is already ranting about how wreckless he is and how he should’ve left with Gunwook or called him. Jiwoong grabs him by the arm. “I told him I couldn’t.”
If you let go, then it’s over. I know it’ll be over.
It’s over, Hanbin. I gave you a second chance before, I can’t do that again.
I can’t let you go.
You’ll learn how to.