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Seonghyeon can't sleep. The text he sent hours ago to Keonho, his best friend, remains unanswered.
‘What are we?' The words shimmer across Seonghyeon’s phone screen, accusatory, and Seonghyeon swallows, hating himself for even hoping. It's raining, thunder rumbling across the dark sky, and Seonghyeon hears a sudden knock on the bedroom window.
It’s Keonho, drenched, but eyes bright. Seonghyeon hurries to unlock it, grimacing when Keonho crawls inside, water dripping off his limbs.
"You’re insane," Seonghyeon breathes, his voice thick. Keonho just smiles, charming but guilty, and Seonghyeon’s chest clenches at the minimal distance between them.
"Why are you here?" Seonghyeon interrogates, even as he’s already heading for his closet.
"Just wanted to see you," Keonho says, arms outstretched, open. It'll only sting more if Seonghyeon shuts the gap and hugs Keonho close, so he settles for tossing Keonho his favorite hoodie and sweatpants instead, gulping when Keonho removes his shirt before pulling them on. Seonghyeon already knows the moles on Keonho's back by heart.
Wordlessly, they move to the bed, the shared body heat electrifying.
Keonho shifts closer before long. His breath, soft yet shallow—nervous—heats Seonghyeon's nape. Seonghyeon, still reeling from what had happened earlier that led to the desperate text, turns around, Keonho's big, brown eyes pulling him in.
"What's up with you and Hana?" The words escape Seonghyeon like a reflex. Earlier they'd gone bowling with Martin and Hana, his twin sister, and she and Keonho had been practically joined at the hip, Seonghyeon watching on like an outsider. Seonghyeon could only look away as they laughed with each other. Jealousy over the person you weren't dating was the worst torture imaginable.
Keonho stares at the ceiling, fully knowing what Seonghyeon means. "Nothing."
Seonghyeon remembers when they stopped at Martin and Hana’s house for a bit. Remembers the hazy scent of the joint shared between him and Martin while Keonho and Hana huddled at the porch steps, in their own little world. "Sure."
"We're just friends," Keonho presses.
"Like we are?" Seonghyeon accuses, the ache in his chest unbearable. He thinks back on it all—the countless private glances exchanged, the stolen kisses inside empty rooms. All the times his heart sank as soon as Keonho decided to entertain the girls vying for his attention.
"Seonghyeon..."
"It's fine," Seonghyeon interrupts, the words bitter on his tongue.
"You know it doesn't mean anything," Keonho chokes out. His palm cradles Seonghyeon's face, familiar, heartwrenching. "My parents, they can't—"
"I know." Seonghyeon gulps, well aware of how strict and religious they were, Keonho’s dad expecting the very best from his son. The lava lamp casts Keonho under a somber, tragic light. It feels like an ending. They were never together, but it's Seonghyeon's biggest nightmare. He can't imagine being with anyone else. Won't let it happen.
"Seonghyeon?"
"It's okay." Seonghyeon clears his throat like it really is, faces the wall like Keonho isn't the one person who hurts him the most. He hates how exposed he feels, Keonho the only boy witnessing his most vulnerable state. It's what makes their situation even more horrible.
Keonho's arms wrap around Seonghyeon's body—a steady comfort, anchoring him. Seonghyeon feels himself falling harder.
"Goodnight, Hyeonie." Keonho‘s lips tenderly brush Seonghyeon's temple, shy, like he knows it's something they can never speak about in the open. The wrongest thing. But then he mumbles something else, something quiet, so resolute, that Seonghyeon fears he'd imagined it at first.
'Don't leave me.'
Rain continues pouring down the windows. Keonho hugs Seonghyeon tighter. Seonghyeon's eyes well up with tears.