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Yunho meets Changmin just as the latter turns fourteen, when rumours of a boy prodigy with stunning vocals and excellent motor coordination and a face that makes angels weep being recruited into the company, spread around the trainees like wildfire.

"I heard he's a hundred and eighty centimetres tall," a fellow trainee called Hyukjae mumbles around a mouthful of ddeokbokki.

"I heard he looks like Bae Yong Joon sunbae-nim," another trainee, Sungmin stares mournfully at his bowl, long since empty of rice.

"No, Kangta sunbae-nim," Jungsu, a trainee that entered the company nearly a year after Yunho but behaves like a domineering hyung to him on the account of being three years older, corrects, sucking on his pair of chopsticks.

Yunho finally sees for himself how the new trainee looks like a few days later, when one of the choreographers sticks his head into the dance studio Yunho has commandeered for himself. Yunho looks away from the mirror, body bent in the middle of a power move. “Jaewon hyung,” he greets, dropping his legs down from they were hovering in mid-air and dipping into a bow immediately, “good afternoon.”

“Afternoon, Yunho,” Jaewon smiles, an arm slung about a lanky looking boy dressed in a perfectly pressed shirt and trousers about two sizes too big for him. “This is Changmin, our newest trainee. Changmin-ah, this is Yunho, one of our best trainees. You remember Dana-noona, whom we met just now? Yunho here is one of her rappers and back-up dancers.”

The words ‘Changmin’ and ‘newest trainee’ registers in his head, but then he takes one look at the other boy’s face and everything just exits his brain again at the sight of rounded, wondering eyes, framed by too long eyelashes. They are the prettiest eyes he has even seen, and they are fixed mainly on the floor, but dart upwards towards his face and away again every once in a while.

Yunho likes that the new trainee keeps staring at the floor, because then he can stare unnoticed (Jaewon teases him about this in the distant future, saying that Yunho was so struck by Changmin’s face that he forgot all about his hyung being in the room too) at the almost feminine down-sweep of the new trainee’s lashes, fanned against cheekbones still gently rounded by baby fat. 

They strike up a halting conversation, and Yunho does not quite know what he says until he blurts, “please quit now if you’re not serious about succeeding in this industry”, and he only realises what his stupid big fat mouth has uttered when the new- when Changmin’s face just crumples. Jaewon opens his mouth to say something and but nothing comes out and they just stand there, an awkward tableau of three for a little bit, until-

“Well!” Jaewon laughs, a stilted ha-ha-heh, and makes to usher Changmin from the studio. He casts Yunho a mildly chastising look, and that single look makes Yunho feel like a cockroach scuttling across the floor. “We still have to keep going, Changmin, you wanted to see the studio where BoA-noona records her songs, right? Come on, let’s go!”

Yunho tries to form a “sorry wait I didn’t mean to come back can I keep you I think I like you”, but what exits his fucking idiotic mouth instead is an incomprehensible grunt, and before he knows it, they are gone and he is alone again in the room.

It seems darker, dimmer. Colder. Somehow.

The other boys quiz him about the newest trainee late into the night, but all Yunho can remember besides those eyes are vague impressions of big feet and too long limbs and a height around his own.

He does not know then, but Yunho looks back ten years later and realises he may have fallen for Changmin then, that very second when he looks away from making sure his legs are straight in the air and into those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

Yunho does not see Changmin around much in the months after that, and he is sort of glad that the boy is going to be just another junior in the company because he does not think he can contain himself if he were placed in a group with Changmin. And that is Very Bad because one, Changmin is a boy, and two, Changmin is underage, and three, Changmin is A Boy.

He is lucky that he is already in Four Seasons and they are planning to debut. Yes, very lucky, Yunho thinks to himself, smiling fondly at the sight of Heechul-hyung and Youngwoon-hyung arguing over image concepts and stage names while sprawled all over the floor of the cramped apartment the four of them are assigned to.

The universe must have heard him exclaiming his luck, and decided to be contrary, because Four Seasons abruptly becomes another one of yesterday’s dreams, and he heads to the company after a night of no sleep (comforting Heechul hyung took the entire evening and then some) to end up in the president’s office one day, bleary-eyed and mentally exhausted.

“Seongsaeng-nim,” he greets, keeping his spine ramrod straight when he just wants to lie down on the floor and maybe sleep for a week. Lee Sooman smiles slightly, and Yunho reads pride and regret and too many other things in his expression.

“You heard about the news from your manager, I suppose,” the president begins briskly in lieu of a greeting. Yunho nods, and opens his mouth to –politely— argue his case, but the president’s next words makes him swallow them back.

“We’re not delaying your debuts, Yunho. We’re just… revising the concepts a little.” Peering at Yunho over the edges of his spectacles, the president gives a slight hum while pressing the tips of his fingers together to form a steeple. “There will be a new group. The executives and I have decided to put you and Jaejoong in it, and two other trainees will join you. We are still considering but,” his eyes crinkle, “Junsu will most probably be in it with you too.”

Yunho tries to keep it off his face, but he can feel his excitement rising. Just when he thought Four Seasons’ disbandment meant that he is nowhere near his dream, just when-

He fights to focus on what the president is saying, the blur of noise sharpening into individual words with much effort. “—O Jang Yuk Bu. And one of our newest trainees will join you too, his name is Changmin and I believe you’ve already met him—”

Yunho chokes on air, wheezing out a garbled sound that has the president half-out of his seat in concern, one hand whacking at Yunho’s back in a well-meaning attempt to help but instead just leaves Yunho with a burning throat and a smarting back.

“I’m Junsu-hyung,” Junsu says, beaming at the corner of the sofa.

“I’m Jaejoong-hyung,” Jaejoong says, flicking his fringe out of his eyes and eyeing the corner of the sofa with muted interest.

An awkward silence, then— both Junsu and Jaejoong turn to him, you-deal-with-this-we-made-you-leader looks on their faces. Yunho feels like dying.

“Yes, this is Junsu and Jaejong and— And. Um, I’m Yunho-hyung! But you already know that.” He makes a concerted effort to sound chirpy but he has a sneaking suspicion that all he has managed to do is end up looking (and sounding) completely psychotic and thus alienating the boy— that boy— Changmin, who seems to be trying his best to fold his gangly frame into the corner of the sofa.

Although Yunho thinks he has already succeeded in that department, because the look Changmin darts him when he opened the door at the timid raps to the door of their too cramped flat is a look that tells him Changmin has not forgotten Yunho’s idiotic just-quit-now comment made so many months ago. “And— you’re Changmin, right? Right?”

Jaejoong looks vaguely horrified and pinches at the underside of Yunho’s upper arm, but Yunho just smiles harder through the pain. Junsu blinks, politely nonplussed and in that corner, Changmin just stares at him, wide dark eyes and tightly pressed lips.

“Yes,” Changmin mumbles, barely audible, after twenty seconds that feel more like twenty years. “I’m—I’m Changmin.”

He stands, too suddenly, with the gracelessness of someone still trying to cope with growing, all too large feet and too long arms. Hands by his side, Changmin bows, head and back perfectly perpendicular to the ground. Junsu and Yunho gape at him, while Jaejoong smiles in pleased approval. “Junsu-hyung, Jaejoong-hyung… Yunho-hyung-nim,” Yunho feels a part of his heart die at the sound of the too-formal address, but he’s mostly happy because Jaejoong’s smile has disappeared with the boy’s deferential treatment of Yunho, “I’m Shim Changmin and I will be your maknae in O Jang Yuk Bu. I— I promise I will work hard, and—please take care of me!”

“Yeah, okay,” Junsu laughs as another period of silence threatens to descend. Yunho does not like how Jaejoong is eyeing Changmin as though he is a new song to conquer. “You know how to play football?”

Changmin gives a start and blinks up at them; body still folded respectfully in the bow. He answers Junsu, but his eyes flicker between the three of them. Yunho stares hard at those eyes, trying his best to catalogue every single detail so that he can recall them properly later, when he is in his bed and everyone else is asleep. “A little. I uh, can learn?”

“Good,” Junsu exclaims, squirming his way out from where he was previously squashed between Jaejoong and Yunho at their little dining table. He strides over, pulling Changmin upright. “Jaejoong-hyung always cheats, and Yunho-hyung can’t play it without turning it into a real match. You look like you’ll do better.”

Yunho tries to console himself that this thing he has about Changmin’s eyes is not something bad or anything to be ashamed about. He is just appreciating Mrs Shim’s hard work, and it is nothing different from going to a museum and gazing at lovely art pieces or something else equally highbrow and dispassionately aesthetical and not at all lewd.

He promptly walks into the bathroom the next day (It was an accident! The door was not locked) while Changmin is still in it, and he sort of just stands there and stares dumbly at the adorably sticky-out ears all that ruffly wet hair reveals. And there is also Changmin being wet and Changmin being half-naked and Changmin holding onto a towel and Changmin being wet and Changmin looking startled and Changmin-

“Hyung-nim!” Now Changmin is staring at him, cheeks red and beautiful round eyes even rounder in shock, and Yunho stammers out something incoherent (“I hope your shower was good”) and backs out of the bathroom, hand still clenched tight about the doorknob even after he’s closed it with too much force.

Standing in the cramped hallway, Yunho notes with some despair that he is hard, and that probably also means he should stop pretending that he is not a dirty old ahjussi salivating after impossibly young, not-quite-fifteen Changmin.

Approximately six weeks after The Bathroom Incident, as Yunho has come to refer to it in his head, he returns from eating juk with Donghae one evening to laughter and yells.

“Argh, no— Yah! Kim Jaejoong, you think just because you’re older you can—”

“Since when did I give you permission to call me by my name, huh—”

“Jaejoong-hyung, help, grab Min, I have to—”

He stops in the middle of the hallway and stares, the feeling of being content and full forgotten. Junsu and Jaejoong are in the living room with Changmin, his Changmin, and they are- they seem to be- they appear to be wrestling on the floor, but then Junsu starts digging his fingers into Changmin’s ribs, and Changmin is laughing and laughing and laughing and-

Changmin notices him.

“Hyung-nim!” Now Changmin is no longer laughing. Now Changmin is standing up, and both Junsu and Jaejoong have seen him and there is something remarkably like censure on Jaejoong’s face, and he does not understand why because he has done nothing, but Changmin is no longer laughing, and he is staring at Yunho with a face devoid of emotion and-

There is a roaring in Yunho’s ears, and something dark and ugly and angry clawing at his chest. He swallows, presses the ugliness back and his voice creaks out of him, something splintery and sharp, a contrast to all the glorious laughter moments before, “I see you three are having fun.”

Now even Junsu is frowning at him. Junsu, his oldest friend, his first friend in the company. Yunho feels betrayed and sick, and even more so because Junsu can fuck off, the only thing he cares about right now is Junsu’s arm looped over his, over Yunho’s Changmin’s shoulder.

He wants to take an axe to that arm, and the violence of his own thoughts surprises him.

“I’ll just be in my room,” Yunho tries for a smile but he is pretty certain his half-hearted attempt is a failure, because Changmin no longer looks blank. Changmin looks terrified.

Yunho does not stick around to see if the terror morphs into horror.

Eight months to their debut, Yunho wakes up in the middle of the night, thighs slick with perspiration and boxers soiled (again) with cooling semen, and he comes to the abrupt realization that he is very possibly in love with Changmin. Changmin, who is his group member and thus under his care. Changmin, who is a boy. Changmin, who is underage.

Changmin, who does not even seem to like him very much.

Another two months passes, and a new boy gets added to their little group. His name is Park Yoochun and he comes from America, from someplace called Fairfax, Virginia, and Yunho nods along obediently when manager-hyungs and the president rattles them off to him. He memorizes all these facts and plans a million ways to help Yoochun, the last member of their ragtag group, to assimilate.

He sees that he could have saved all his efforts when Yoochun is laughing and trading jokes in perfect Korean with the others within the first hour of introductions. Even Changmin is smiling, the Changmin that he, that Yunho has known for about a year now. Yoochun has coaxed a laugh out of Changmin even though they have known each other for less than a day. Yunho has had a year but he fails miserably in comparison, like he fails in all other things Changmin.

Late that night, when the other three are chatting about sports and pets –things that Changmin does not really care about or have— in the living room, Yunho sees Changmin seated in the ratty armchair adjacent to them, still smiling but his eyes are no longer crinkled into different sizes. That is something Yunho has realised in this one year of knowing Changmin, that his eyes become charmingly uneven when he smiles, when he is truly happy. So he moves towards the boy, steeling his resolve even as the smile fades as Changmin looks up and meets his gaze.

Yunho tries to make his tone hearty and jovial. “Are you excited about our debut, Changmin?”

It has the opposite effect Yunho wishes. The eyes he loves became large with anxiety and alarm, and Changmin looks away, while stutters out an unconvincing, “yes, Yunho-hyung-nim, I- I’m very excited.”

Yunho feels like punching himself in the head. Instead he gapes like a daft idiot, hands opening and closing by his sides like beached starfish, even as Changmin compresses his lips in an attempt to hide the trembling. It is the last straw when Jaejoong calls out, “what is this, Yunho-yah, are you bullying my little Changmin?”

He feels himself hurtling forward, galvanised by the irrational spurt of anger he feels at that statement. And the next thing he knows, Yunho has an armful of Changmin. It is not the yielding, eager armful he experiences in his dreams; Changmin is frozen, all sharp elbows and bony knees jamming against Yunho. He tightens his arms anyway, and says fiercely, mouth close to Changmin’s ear, “it’s going to be all right, you’re going to be all right, you practice so hard everyday, you’re going to be magnificent, I know you will be.”

Relief washes over him as Changmin relaxes minutely in his arms, and Yunho ignores the laughing catcalls coming from the other three to pat clumsily at the younger boy’s hair, while thinking despairingly, too young, you’re too young, I think I’m in love with you, and I am so fucked.

Teenage boys are teenage boys after all, so it is not surprising that they start to bond mainly by talking about girls in the nights that follow.

They are sharing a bottle of cheap soju that Jaejoong has sneaked out during curfew hours to buy from the nearest convenience store, one night. After making sure that Changmin is having juice, real juice to his ire (“Ey, hyung-deul, I’m only two years younger!”), they start to drink in earnest, and the alcohol loosens their tongues.

This is the night when Yoochun remembers himself as having the most fun since he’s left America.

This is the night Junsu remembers waking up from with the most terrible hangover he has had so far in his life.

This is the night Jaejoong remembers giving voice to the unexplainable urge to tease the youngest, something that cumulates in him stealing Changmin’s first kiss months later.

And this is the night Yunho remembers as the night when his heart was truly broken for the first time in his life.

They are all tipsy and well on their way to being drunk, with the exception of a sulking Changmin, when everyone seems to start bragging all at once, about the number of girls they’ve kissed and touched.

“I’ve held a girl’s hand,” Junsu slurs, grappling for the bottle. It falls over, aided no doubt by the jeers coming from Yoochun and Jaejoong, but there’s so little soju in it that it does not spill out immediately, and Changmin reaches a hand to right it and shove it into Junsu’s still wandering hand.

Now they are all starting expectantly at Yunho. He knows he does not like girls now, he fucking loves Changmin, not that any of them knows that, not that he wants any of them to know it, because it’s stupid and shameful and most of all, it’s private. It is thus this muddle of thoughts that make Yunho open his mouth and go, “I’ve felt up one of my ex-girlfriend’s boobs once. They’re really soft.”

His statement is greeted by drunken cheers, and Yoochun opens another bottle of soju in celebration. He takes a swig, and announces to the room at large, clearly not intending to lose to Yunho, “I’ve gone all the way with this girl, back in Virginia. She was hot,” he waggles his brows, and does a crude gesture with his hands, which sets Jaejoong off, “like super hot. And older.”

Yunho forces himself to laugh, a string of obnoxious chuckles, and flings a bottle cap at Yoochun; but inside he’s dying, bit by bit. He does not dare to look at Changmin, he does not want to hear about girls that Changmin must have touched and kissed, because no one, not even girls, should be able to resist Changmin’s eyes and Changmin’s smile and Changmin’s voice.

He is startled when Jaejoong nudges him, then, and he looks up to see the other nodding discreetly at Changmin, who has gone quiet. The youngest boy’s nose is wrinkled and he appears to be counting the number of cracks in the living room floor tiles. Jaejoong’s bony elbow digs into Yunho’s side again, but he does not know quite what to say and he knits his eyebrows back at Jaejoong, who huffs and raises his voice above Yoochun and Junsu’s chortling, “ My little Changmin must have had girls he likes too, yes?”

Yunho worries at his bottom lip and waits for Changmin to go yes, and start extolling the virtues of the female body. But the latter just screws up his face, to Yunho’s surprise, and he mutters, kind of embarrassedly, barely audible, “girls are so gross.”

There is a shocked pause, and an explosion of mirth. Junsu falls over, curled up on his side and shaking with laughter, while Yoochun is huddled over the new bottle of soju, teeth clinking at the edge because he cannot stop giggling. Jaejoong scoots away from Yunho and leans over to ruffle at Changmin’s hair, and he coos, the barest hint of mockery evident in his tone, “ aw, my little Changmin is so cute! Don’t worry, you’ll change your mind and sing a different tune in a few years, just you wait.”

But Changmin shakes his head at that, and his retort is vehement. “No, there was once when a noona-sunbae tried to kiss me and it was gross, hyung.”

Yoochun snorts at that, leering exaggeratedly. “Wait, which noona, because she can try me.”

And off they went again, falling against each other in their hilarity, while Changmin’s cheeks darken in embarrassment. Yunho can feel a tiny bloom of hope unfurling in him, despite everything he has tried to keep himself from doing so, despite everything he’s done to keep Changmin at a distance. It is as though Jaejoong has read his mind, too, because the latter halts in his hyena-like snickering to say, somewhat teasingly, “does my little Changmin prefer boys then?”

Jaejoong does not wait for Changmin to answer, but instead heads off in a tangent about how he has just made out in a closet with one of the other male trainees, a newbie who has just entered the company a few weeks ago. It is a lurid tale, undoubtedly exaggerated in many parts, and Junsu is making shocked noises while Yoochun makes admiring ones. Yunho listens, already familiar with the story, but he finds his eyes straying involuntarily to Changmin’s face.

The little flower of hope in his chest just gives up and dies when he sees how wide and shocked and alarmed Changmin’s eyes have become.

“—and then he rattled off his number and kissed me again, and went, ‘hyung, you must call me’, but I didn’t really give him a reply; I just left.” Jaejoong finishes with a flourish, to cheers from Junsu and Yoochun. Yunho makes himself laugh while he claps Jaejoong on the back with more force than necessary. Jaejoong barely notices for once though, because his attention is focused on Changmin; everyone’s is. But Changmin only opens his mouth and closes it again like a fish deprived of water, and he looks so uncomfortable that Yunho takes pity on him, and says firmly even as he is dying inside, “stop it, Jaejoong.”

He clears his throat now that everyone is looking at him, instead. Even the round dark eyes that he fears and loves are trained on his face. “I don’t think he likes boys that way. Changminnie is still young; it’s uh, natural to not think about these things. Now, stop picking on him, and go to bed, everyone. It’s late.”

They groan and they grumble, but they obey him, however reluctantly, with Changmin fleeing the living room first, as though hell-hounds are nipping at his heels.

It has been more than a few hours since he’s chased everyone to bed, but Yunho is still cleaning up, because five teenage boys living together equates to messes that grow even larger when the majority of them have been drinking.

But there is a sound, a shuffle of feet, and Yunho turns to see Changmin standing there in the tiny hallway of their cramped flat, twisting his hands awkwardly. Silence swells, the awkwardness of it an almost tangible entity. Yunho forces himself to not stare at the boy, and looks back down at the empty bottles he is picking up to fling into the rubbish bag he has in his other hand instead. “Yes, Changminnie?” he asks, making sure to keep his voice even. “Was there something you need?”

“I- Um-” Changmin just stammers, and fumbles with himself, growing limbs knocking against each other. Yunho feels a sudden surge of desire, coupled by the now familiar prickle of shame. He pushes the shame and the arousal away and thinks about how magnificent Changmin will be in ten years, when he has grown into his too long limbs and angular face.

“Hyung,” Changmin finally whispers after what feels like ages, eyes flitting about the room at first, before his gaze hones in and sharpens on Yunho, like he is forcing himself to just look at Yunho and nowhere else. “Hyung, thank you for just now.”

He needs to come with a warning label, Yunho thinks as he feels a surge of overwhelming affection tinged with despair, because this is the first time Changmin has even called him hyung, just the salutation and nothing else. Before, it was always Yunho-sunbae-nim in public and Yunho-hyung-nim in private. And it takes him a few seconds before he can speak again, voice steady. “It’s no trouble, Changminnie.”

“It’s just,” Changmin twists his fingers together and pulls his hands back by his sides. “It’s just... I just. Maybe I’ll like girls in a few years. I don’t know. But what Jaejoong-hyung said, the kissing and touching other boys thing... I know it’s bad for me to say it like this but, but. It freaks me out, hyung. I— I don’t like it. I don’t.”

At that exact moment, at those exact words, Yunho feels his heart breaking. He decides whoever it was that said a person cannot die from getting their heart broken, was talking bullshit. He can barely breathe through the pain.

He does not show it, though. He is successful in his attempt to sound normal. “Don’t worry, Changmin.” He clears his throat, one hand clenching and unclenching around the flimsy plastic of the rubbish bag. “You’re barely fifteen, not being interested in girls is, well, it’s perfectly fine for your age. As for the kissing boys thing, well, just between you and me,” he tries for a conspiratorial tone and is slightly heartened when it comes out rather all right, “just between you and me, that trainee has a girlfriend.”

“So Jaejoong-hyung was lying?” Changmin sounds scandalized and delighted all at once.

“Yes,” Yunho replies, but barely. His throat feels like it is made of sandpaper, and he has a horrible suspicion that he is about to cry. “Yes. And don’t worry. I know how you feel. I don’t like men either.”

Years pass, and Changmin grows taller and more handsome, the tallest and most handsome of them all. He learns to laugh with and even laugh at Yunho. He learns to cajole Yunho out of his rare low moods, to praise Jaejoong’s cooking frequently, to go to Yoochun for jokes and Junsu when he wants to play. He learns confidence and pick-up lines and that actually; girls are not quite that bad after all.

One evening, when Changmin is nineteen and they are both drunker than they would like to be; the younger man leans into Yunho, and says, low and confidential, “I think you’re my best friend, Yunho-yah.” Yunho’s smile is wobbly, and he pats the beautiful face lolling on his shoulder, voice a bit more hoarse than he likes, “You’re my best friend too, Changminnie.”

And every single time he puts his arm around Yunho, every single time he balances his chin on Yunho’s shoulder, every single time he exclaims in front of others, “hyung, hyung, Yunho-hyung”, Yunho feels his broken heart shatter a little more.

He tries to tell himself that it is enough that Changmin still hugs him, even as he says to Junsu, “I love my members but they’re men.” He reminds himself that it is only natural, because Changmin likes girls, when the latter shakes his head at Yoochun and goes, “I don’t love you because you’re a man”. He consoles himself with the fact that Changmin cried when he was poisoned, as he watches Changmin rolls his eyes at Jaejoong while uttering dismissively, “I don’t like men”.

So he doesn’t pull away, whenever the younger man slings a casual, brotherly arm about his shoulders, even though he wants to, even when he does not think he can control himself. This is his Changmin, after all.

And Yunho knows himself well enough to understand that he is pathetic enough to be perfectly fine with any scraps of affection Changmin is willing to bestow.  

“Yah, Jung Yunho. I’m moving out.”

“Wait— Why— What are you— What!”

“I. Am. Moving. Out. Of this apartment.”

“But— why?”

“You suck. So I’m moving.”

“No, wait, Changminnie, if, if this is about my sexual preferences—”

“Why the fuck would you think—oh, the ‘suck’ thing. For fuck’s sake, hyung, I just mean you fail as a human being. And I’m tired of g— I’m just tired. So I’m leaving.”

“No, wait, why are you mad—”

“…You’re asking me why I’m mad?”

“I haven’t done anything, at least I don’t think I have—”

“You know what? Fuck you, hyung. Fuck you, Jung Yunho.”

“You’re really angry, aren’t you— No, don’t leave, just tell me what I’ve done, I’ll fix it, I promise, don’t leave angry, Changminnie, I just—”

“You haven’t done anything!”

“I… don’t understand.”

“That’s just it, you haven’t done shit. And I’m tired of waiting for you.”

“Changmin-ah. What are you talking about?”

“You… I just… You really don’t know? Oh my God, you don’t, just look at your face, you really don’t.”

“Changmin-ah, I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done, please don’t be furious with me, you know I can be stupid and insensitive—”

“I’m in love with you, Jung Yunho.”

“—but you know I don’t mean it when I get you angry, so— What?”

“You heard me.”

“You— I— What?”

“I’m not going to say it again.”

“What?”

“It’s been three years, and I’m sorry if it disgusts you. I know you’ll never return my feelings, so I’m just moving out so that we can have some space and maybe these stupid emotions will go away, and— stop laughing. Why the fuck are you laughing? Will you fucking stop?”

“—ha, three years, haha—”

“You’re just asking to be punched, stop laughing, it’s not funny—”

“Only three fucking years, try an entire decade, you little piece of shit—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“—don’t talk to me about feelings, you bastard, you—”

“Wait, Jung, why are you getting angry, I’m supposed to be the angry one!”