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Jaehwan immediately closes the app the moment he opens it, putting down Sanghyuk’s phone on the table and quickly pushing it away from him like he can distance himself from what he’s almost done. Since when is he the kind of person who checks through their boyfriend’s phone? None of this – insecure, jealous, suspicious – is what he is. At least I closed Kakao before I could look through his messages and truly have a reason to hate myself, he thinks. Congratufuckinglations to me.
How did things get to this point?
“Jaehwan hyung!” Sanghyuk calls from the pool, and Jaehwan lifts up his shades so that he can see properly, twisting around in his deck chair. “When are you coming in? The water’s really nice.”
Sanghyuk’s smiling at him, fending off Wonsik who’s trying to drag him under.
“Later,” Jaehwan tells him after a beat, feeling cold despite the sun. “You go have fun.”
Sanghyuk is not cheating on him. Sanghyuk is not cheating on him. Sanghyuk is not cheating on him.
*
It starts with the fights (“The end always starts like this,” Hakyeon tells him. “Always.”). Jaehwan can’t explain where the anger comes from; they’re fine one moment and the next he’s forcing down a surge of intense annoyance over something stupid and trivial and he can tell Sanghyuk’s patience with him is no longer bottomless as well – and that just makes him angrier. They’re fighting every few days now – when Sanghyuk turns up late for a date, when Jaehwan forgets to call back, when Sanghyuk thinks Jaehwan is being selfish about their year-end holiday together; stupid fucking things that would not have mattered at all six months ago.
Late? Aw, babe, it’s okay. I know you rushed to meet me on time.
It’s not like you had anything on before this so did you not even care about leaving on time? Do you think I have nothing better to do than wait around for you?
Why isn’t he calling me back? Oh god, I hope he’s okay.
I’m really just not a priority for him anymore, am I.
No, sure, let’s go with your idea. It really doesn’t matter where we go as long as I’m with you.
Why the fuck do we always have to do what you want?
Jaehwan knows he has a bad temper, and he knows he has a sharp tongue, and he finds himself saying the most hurtful things to Sanghyuk almost like he’s watching himself in a movie, dissociated from his body and watching everything happen from afar. He’s made Sanghyuk cry twice; one fight lasted almost three days; he’s been on the verge of ending things at least four times – he can rattle off these numbers like they’re bland facts, not the sad statistics of a crumbling relationship.
Sanghyuk doesn’t cry or fight back anymore. He just shuts down, and Jaehwan tries hard not to think about what it means that he’s made someone like Sanghyuk cry, and not even just once. He can’t stop himself, and every time they make up he makes promise after promise that things will get better but he can see in Sanghyuk’s eyes the same dead curiosity about how long the peace will last this time.
Jaehwan grabs Sanghyuk’s hand and tries to keep him from walking off, Sanghyuk trying to wrench himself away but caught fast in Jaehwan’s arms – a stupid impulsive gesture that smacks of desperation. He could push Jaehwan off if he wanted, they both know it – but he would hurt Jaehwan, and right now it’s touch and go if Sanghyuk even cares.
“Let me go,” Sanghyuk says, voice flat, and Jaehwan wonders if he’s talking about more than just Jaehwan’s arms around him.
How did things get to this point?
Jaehwan’s gaze flicks up to the hotel bathroom door where Sanghyuk is having a bath, cooling down after another morning of sun by the pool. His phone has been buzzing, message after message incoming, and after Jaehwan gave in to momentary temptation yesterday by the poolside the sick burning curiosity has built up once more.
Sanghyuk isn’t cheating on him, so he isn’t going to find anything anyway; and it doesn’t matter because Sanghyuk won’t know. Jaehwan quickly picks up Sanghyuk’s phone and swipes in Sanghyuk’s passcode.
It doesn’t unlock. Sanghyuk has changed his passcode.
Jaehwan puts down Sanghyuk’s phone slowly, outwardly calm, inwardly reeling. It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t have to mean anything – you need to change your passcode periodically. It doesn’t mean Sanghyuk’s hiding anything from him or that he saw Jaehwan with his phone yesterday. It doesn’t mean anything.
*
Jaehwan doesn’t know how things have gotten to this point. He doesn’t even recognise himself anymore and each day feels like he’s teetering on the edge of a cliff.
If only the cracks showed in every part of their relationship Jaehwan could possibly see more clearly what to do; but when Sanghyuk touches him and they’re wrapped up in each other’s bodies it still feels as electric and powerful as the first time and two people who are so physically in tune can’t possibly be on the verge of breaking up. Maybe it means sex is all they’ve ever had, or maybe it means things can still be fixed; but Sanghyuk leaves the bed and Jaehwan faster than he used to these days, and Jaehwan is dead, dead, dead inside.
It’s the wild highs of angry adrenaline and blind hope for things to work out against the guttural lows of despair and everything ugly you can feel towards another person – and this is not normal, Jaehwan thinks desperately. They’re killing each other and they both know it, like pulling each other down in quicksand the more they struggle to get out.
How did this happen? How do you wake up one day less in love than you were the day before?
I don’t want to end up hating him, Jaehwan thinks as he watches Sanghyuk put on his clothes again. I don’t want him to hate me.
The thought of life without Sanghyuk; being alone – free, yes, but without Sanghyuk – blooms in his mind and the regret and pain that bubbles up immediately within his chest has to mean something.
Jaehwan gets up, still naked, and captures already-dressed Sanghyuk in a tight hug.
“Do you love me?”
“Yes, hyung. I love you. Why?”
“Just asking. I love you, Hyukkie. I love you so much.”
*
He did it. He pretended to need to use Sanghyuk’s phone to get his new passcode, and the first moment he could he took it and looked through the messages, and then the pictures. He finds nothing. No flirty texts from a number he doesn’t know, no suspicious pictures of – of what? Just what was he expecting to find?
Sanghyuk’s home screen wallpaper is of the two of them, taken on the plane to the resort, and suddenly Jaehwan feels an overwhelming urge to cry. Sanghyuk comes back to the hotel room balcony, bringing another two beers for them, and Jaehwan turns to him feeling a strange sort of end – this is it. His heart is pounding in his ears and he can’t believe he’s about to do this, but there is also almost nothing left to lose by this point.
“I thought you were cheating on me,” Jaehwan says, and watches Sanghyuk grind to a halt, shutters coming up on his face before he even allows himself to react to Jaehwan’s words; he hears Jaehwan’s tone first.
“Why did you think that?” Sanghyuk makes himself ask, finally putting down the beers and sitting down across from Jaehwan. He sounds like he’s steeling himself.
Jaehwan looks at him in the light reflected off the pool area below them – it’s night and the shadows play across Sanghyuk’s face. Sanghyuk is beautiful as he’s always been, and Jaehwan feels deep in his bones that he’s going to miss looking at Sanghyuk this way.
“I think,” Jaehwan begins, and takes a breath, forcing himself to say it. “I think that I wanted an excuse.”
They both sit together for a long time in silence until Sanghyuk gets up, movements awkward for once, and comes to sit next to Jaehwan.
“I wish it didn’t have to-” His voice hitches, and he looks away. Third time’s the charm, Jaehwan thinks bitterly. “-end like this. Unhappy.”
“Better now than when we can’t stand the sight of each other anymore,” Jaehwan says softly, and it hurts so much more than he was ready for.
“Maybe we can work it out-”
“No, we can’t,” Jaehwan puts a hand on Sanghyuk’s thigh, the acute knowledge that it’s one of the last times they’ll be able to touch like this fresh and searing in his mind like a new wound. “We’ve been trying to work it out for months.” He can feel Sanghyuk breathe out and deflate, looking much smaller suddenly.
Sanghyuk turns to him and Jaehwan takes him into his arms, and for once it feels calm and quiet – dead, Jaehwan thinks – instead of angry or impatient or annoyed or uncaring. He pushes his nose into Sanghyuk’s hair and inhales, committing the scent to memory. It’s only after a few minutes that he realises Sanghyuk is crying for real into his shoulder, and recent temporary urge apart, Jaehwan wishes he could cry too but there seems to be an empty desert in place of his heart right now.
“I love you,” he whispers, and it’s still true. He’s just no longer in love. Sanghyuk tightens his arms around Jaehwan and doesn’t reply, and it’s as Jaehwan expects.
They’re in the calm of the storm right now, and Jaehwan doesn’t want to move and begin the avalanche of regret but it’s done, and they can’t go back. He wipes away Sanghyuk’s tears and they sit there together for how long, he doesn’t know – maybe they’ll wait for the sunrise to come up tomorrow like a vigil, saying goodbye.
“I’m sorry,” Sanghyuk is whispering, and Jaehwan wonders exactly what he’s apologising for.
He strokes Sanghyuk’s face, hearing Sanghyuk snuffle from crying, and feels a small smile break out. They still have hours left before they have to leave tomorrow morning, and he wants to make love to Sanghyuk one last time. At least this, he knows, will be a good memory – his fire has always matched Sanghyuk’s, and it has never been as good with anyone else before him. Maybe never will be after him, either.
He takes Sanghyuk by the hand and leads him back inside, and Sanghyuk lets Jaehwan undress him slowly in the dark. Jaehwan knows Sanghyuk’s body by heart as well as he knows his own, and it is too surreal to think that after tonight he will never be able to touch Sanghyuk like this again. It’s incomprehensible that he will never kiss Sanghyuk again or be allowed to get this close; this is his Sanghyuk, the man he’s been in love with for the past three years. He can’t fathom the thought of someone else taking his place –
Jaehwan kisses Sanghyuk hard, and he can feel Sanghyuk’s fingers digging into his shoulder.
“I love you,” he whispers. “Always.” Last time.
*