Archive of Our Own

Something is missing tonight.

Hyunjin can’t quite tell what it is that bothers him so much when looking at his own reflection staring back at him from the dirty mirror. His makeup is perfectly messy, the beauty spot beneath his eye prettily highlighted and his shaggy hair is beautifully framing his face. Nothing is out of place, even the imperfections seem intentional, yet Hyunjin’s fingers tingle with the desire for something more.

His eyes flit between the sticky notes on the mirror, each of the colorful paper smiling back with an encouraging phrase written by himself.

keep going for changbin

you look great!

tomorrow will be better <3

buy concealer + flowers (rose, sun, hyd) + milk

A few of them were simple doodles of flowers, Michelangelo (because he’s the best Ninja Turtle, argue with the wall) or of Changbin and him. On the side, right at eye level, is a pink note with text written by Changbin: “ remember: small steps .” Surrounding it are an abundance of miniscule stars and hearts and a crude little drawing of something Changbin had dubbed ‘Dwaekki’, some kind of mystical fusion between the pink bunny Hyunjin used to draw and a pig that he couldn’t stop lazily drawing on Hyunjin’s paper in class.

He twirls a lock of his hair between his fingers. By now, it’s so long that it’s resting on his collarbones.

A cloud of smoke coming his way distracts him momentarily and he has to cough when it burns in his lungs. He glares at Changbin, who’s leisurely laying sideways in his bathtub, legs dangling off the edge with a joint hanging from his lips. “Watch the smoke, man.”

Instead of answering, Changbin simply takes another hit and blows it in his direction with a crooked smile. This time he’s prepared for it, so Hyunjin just rolls his eyes and waves the smoke away. He doesn’t want to get high yet, the light buzz from the alcohol running through his veins was all he needed for the moment. “Come on, princess, we’re gonna be late if you keep staring at yourself like that.”

“Genuinely nobody cares if we’re late.”

Like so many places in his life, this dingy bathroom is where a lot of Hyunjin’s fondest college memories happened. There was this one time where he was so drunk that he slept in the same bathtub that Changbin now sat in because he feared the bed would swallow him up in the night.

Around a year ago, Hyunjin was feeling extremely experimental, so he took a hot needle to his ear and pierced it himself a couple of times. It hurt like absolute hell but the result looked cool and it didn’t even get infected that bad. Nothing he couldn’t handle. Same reason why he has a small stick and poke tattoo of a flower on the inside of his ankle. That got infected really badly but hey, it looks great nowadays. He would do it again in a heartbeat.

Then there was also the time where he shattered the mirror with a clean punch to the middle of it. There was a lot of anger inside Hyunjin for a while. Changbin had to help him replace it. He kissed his knuckles afterwards. Hyunjin remembers feeling incredibly sick for the rest of the day.

Hyunjin is chronically ill with no cure. It pulses through his veins with every heartbeat, it invades his lungs with every breath, it makes his skin crawl and itch, it spreads through his entire body like the worst disease and it strangles him at night when he’s trying to sleep, giving him one last gentle goodnight kiss before he passes out under the pressure of it.

Despite the years, Hyunjin was still in love with the man who never left his side but refused to bind them together officially. He didn’t feel the same, and that’s okay. It should be okay. He can’t force him to reciprocate, especially when he doesn’t even know that Hyunjin has some weird, fucked up crush on him ever since they were teens. A wound that would never stop bleeding.

His rings click against the sink in an uneven rhythm. Hyunjin stares at himself. It’s definitely his hair that’s bothering him. He had fun with it being so long, kinda made him look like a rockstar who’s definitely had an addiction or two and fucked groupies backstage after a show to blow off some steam.

“I’m shaving it,” he says. More to himself than to Changbin, like his voice was aware of the idea before his brain was.

“Hm?”

“My hair. I’m shaving it off.” He’s already out of the bathroom to search for a pair of scissors to cut them down, before Changbin can even open his mouth. To say that he returns to a very concerned Changbin would be an understatement. His eyebrows are furrowed deeply and he looks like he’s about ready to jump out of the bathtub to have an emergency therapy session with him. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Are you sure?” Changbin asks slowly.

“Yup. Had long hair for long enough now, I wanna do something new, you know? If I look good with almost no hair, then I’ll look good with anything.”

“You don’t need to do all that to find that out. I think it’s already a fact that you’ll look good no matter what.” Changbin relaxes back into the bathtub and takes another drag. The imminent danger has passed. Hyunjin is not about to have a psychological emergency.

“Flattering. I’m still shaving it off though.”

Hyunjin gathers his hair in a makeshift ponytail. His heart is beating fast with the adrenaline pumping through his veins of his spontaneous, maybe even reckless decision. He stares at himself in the mirror, hair in one hand, scissors in the other.

For a very long time in his childhood, Hyunjin had kept his hair short, never below the ears. It’s just what a proper boy did at the time. As he grew older and subsequently accepted his feminine side, he decided to let it grow out – and besides, all his favorite bands had at least one or two members with luscious long locks and they were all considered super manly. He really liked having long hair and all the things he could do with it when he hung out at his friends’ houses.

Felix loved to braid it for him and decorate it with ribbons and other accessories he had stolen from his sisters. Changbin adopted the habit of playing with his hair when he laid somewhere near him. Seungmin instinctively brushed his hair out of his face when he sees some loose strands. Chan sometimes absentmindedly tucked a lock behind his ear when he noticed a stray strand of hair while talking to him. Minho kept asking what hair products he preferred to use and then, a few days later, presented him with exactly those as gifts. And it felt like Jisung and Jeongin couldn’t stop staring at him whenever Hyunjin threw his hair back or runs a hand through it.

His hair, much like anything else, holds so many important memories to him.

Maybe that’s why he wants to get rid of it for a while.

But maybe, Hyunjin simply is an impulsive person and doesn’t really think about these types of things.

“Fuck it.”

He cuts through the makeshift ponytail until it’s hanging loosely from his hand, the rest of his hair that’s still attached to him messy and uneven. With a smile, he tosses the bundle of hair on the counter before grabbing his electric shaver from the cupboard above the sink.

With a careful hand, he shaves the rest of his hair down, leaving it long enough to still somewhat grab.

Changbin whistles at the hair falling down from his shoulders in bundles. It feels exhilarating. Freeing. The music blasting from the speakers in his bedroom gives him the last pushes needed to finish his spontaneous haircut. When he’s all done, he runs a hand over his head, the short strands brushing over his palm pleasantly. Hyunjin bites his lip and smiles.

Fucking hell, you look good .

It’s strange. The man in front of him isn’t at all what he was used to seeing staring back at him, yet it felt like him at the same time. Him but just a different version. And that version looked hot. The lack of hair to hide behind accentuates his face, the sharp angles and the fascinating uneveness of his eyes. The silver piercings on his ears glint in the dim light. Fierce . Intense .

He loves it. A strange sense of calm and happiness permeates throughout his body at the image in front of him.

“Let me see,” Changbin quips after a pause. He’s sitting up in the bathtub, eager stretching from side to side to get a proper look at the boy in front of him.

Hyunjin giggles for no reason in particular and squats in front of the tub, between Changbin’s legs. “Woah,” he says, hand reaching out to caress him. “You’re really bald.” Changbin’s fingers experimentally tap in uneven rhythms against his skull, testing the give and take of the short strands of hair against his fingertips, an absentminded smile pulling the corners of his mouth up slightly.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at the comment. He’s going to hear this a lot. It doesn’t diminish the joy he feels at his decision in the slightest, however. Nor can anyone bring him down from the high of the realisation hitting him that Changbin likes touching his buzzcut. An uncontrolled smile spreads on his face and he giggles. He’s so going to abuse that.

“It looks really good on you, Hyunjinnie. You look hot.” The tone with which Changbin says it is strange, but Hyunjin can’t place it. It’s likely all in his head, anyways. As Changbin gets his dose of Hyunjin pets in, he plays with the fringes of his shorts.

In his fucked up little college dorm bathroom, Hyunjin feels strangely at home. He closes his eyes. It’s just him and Changbin, the faucet that never stops dripping and the stained bathtub, accompanied by some playlist they put on while getting ready for a dumb college party.

He would much prefer to stay here with Changbin. Climb into the bathtub right next to him. It’s small, so they have to huddle together if they want to sit side by side. Or better yet, one of them lays down properly and the other ontop of them. Hyunjin’s heart would beat so fast and Changbin would be unaffected. It wouldn’t matter. Hyunjin is happy to pretend, just for a little while, that they were lovers. It hurts, but he’s fine with pretending the wound doesn’t exist.

His scenario shatters when Changbin pats him on the back and heaves himself out of the bathtub. “It’s uneven, you know that?” He cleans the shaver in the sink, picking the stray strands of hair out of the tiny blades. Hyunjin looks up at his back dumbfounded, his hand running over his head again. He’s right.

“Let me help.”

Hyunjin can’t argue with that nor calm his excitedly beating heart that climbs into his throat when Changbin straddles his legs, strong thighs on either side of his own. “Look down for a sec.” A magnetic force seems to pull his chin downwards as soon as the words leave Changbin’s mouth and the butterflies erupt into chaos when he hums in satisfaction.

The shaver comes back to rest against his skull, this time guided by a familiar but foreign hand as it cuts through the hair deemed too long. A thought passes his mind, his eyes laser-focused on the thighs resting beside his. Should he hold him? Lay his hands on his thighs and lie that it was a reflex? The position they’re in is intimate, surely Changbin expects a less than friendly reaction from him, even if it was by accident.

“Done. You’re even hotter now that you don’t look like Felix’s baby cousin ran a few scissors over your head during an afternoon nap.”

Hyunjin blinks. Changbin dusts him off. “Thank you,” he settles on saying, quietly and almost disappearing behind the sound of rustling fabrics.

“What are friends for?” Hyunjin almost pulls him back onto him when he feels Changbin’s thighs moving away from him, almost, just almost he does the stupid mistake of displaying his pathetic yearning for him to see, to grab onto his thighs, pull him back into his lap and just get it over with .

Force him to look into his eyes and tell him I love you . For more than just being my friend, for more than being there for me whenever I needed it; I want to consume you whole and bathe in the afterglow of becoming one irrevocably, and feeling sated for once in my life. You are the parasite digging into my wounds, and I’ll let you live within me. I would carve my own flesh to the bone just to paint a smile onto your face.

Instead, the cold settles in where he touched him, freezing him to the marrow.

Hyunjin sighs, slapping some sense back into him. He hastily cleans up his bathroom and grabs his red, fuzzy cardigan to put on over his tanktop before running after Changbin. He’s going to change later anyways.

Music was something that Hyunjin had gained an ever increasing interest in over his teen years thanks to Chris, Jisung and Changbin specifically. They would get together and try to compose songs but things proved… difficult when they realised that all of them only played the guitar and the piano. Jisung could sing, proven by his incredible karaoke skills that he gets a little too into and Hyunjin had always liked Changbin’s raspy singing voice. Chris was too giggly and shy to sing in front of people though Hyunjin knew he had an angel’s voice just the same.

That left them with the option to keep it to a simple, acoustic sound. In the beginning, Hyunjin wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry or sit there stiffly trying to not to do either of those things. They weren’t exactly… good, but Hyunjin would always sit front and center to cheer them on and simply be there.

“Perfect practice makes perfect.” That’s what Chris always used to say and it worked wonders for them. Their hard work paid off and the music started to become actually listenable and genuinely good. Hyunjin cried to their first song ever and it was stupid because it wasn’t an emotional song at all. He just burst into tears when they finished.

He was so proud.

Music had always been a way to escape from reality for a while, to get lost in the melodies that danced around his head. To listen to singers telling stories that made him feel less alone in this world. It held him in a tight embrace when the weight on his shoulders made his knees buckles and bend, when he cried and begged to be someone else for just a little while. A silent companion humming soft songs into his ear until he drifted off to sleep.

His heart jumps into his throat when he sees that Changbin has built himself a little pile of his CDs and records to sift through, curious eyes reading the tracklists as if he could gauge whether he liked an album from titles alone. “Wanna listen to some?” Hyunjin offers him, automatically drifting over to where his CD and record player are perched on his shelf.

Changbin nods and wordlessly hands him a record.

Fleetwood Mac by Fleetwood Mac.

Hyunjin always liked that record, so no complaints fall from his lips as he takes it from him and pops it into the player. He lays in front of Changbin’s pile and onto the carpet, head still dizzy from the mixture of adrenaline and alcohol. The carpet tickles his much lighter head.

“You have a giant collection, where do you even get the money for all of this?” Despite asking him a question, he leans over the CDs and presses his fingertips into Hyunjin’s lips, urging him to open his mouth. Hyunjin’s heart flutters as the pads of his fingers accidentally slip further between the seam of his lips. He doesn’t move a muscle other than obediently parting his lips for him, teeth lightly scraping against Changbin’s fingernail.

Good boys get to take a hit.

Changbin passes him the joint, fingers still unhelpfully resting on his lips and Hyunjin’s resolve to get high later in the night shatters instantly. Can you blame him? When the beautiful man you’ve been in love with since forever passes you a joint like that , you don’t say no. You can’t say no. So Hyunjin doesn’t and instead takes it gratefully between his lips.

Far too quickly, Changbin leans back again, as if nothing ever happened. That’s probably what it was for him: nothing. He’s high, he’s not behaving like himself. Sober Changbin would never do something like this. There is no deeper meaning, Hyunjin knows and it prods at his bleeding wound.

Changbin always liked his lips. He’s been very vocal about that and having his fingers rest on them so purposefully… makes the mind wander. Has it always been this hot in Hyunjin’s room? Before more problems arise , Hyunjin takes a long drag, blowing the smoke to the ceiling, watching it dissipate against the ceiling fan. “There’s a record shop in our town. I think the owner likes me because I’m constantly there, so sometimes I get stuff cheaper. One time, he even gave me a whole vinyl for free just because I was the, I kid you not, only customer that came by in a week .”

“In a week? Shit.” Changbin is closely investigating the CD case of Eurythmics’ Sweet Dreams . Good album. Hyunjin should get into more European bands. Bummer that the record shop isn’t quite as international as he would like it to be, he would kill to know more music from places that aren’t the US or Britain.

He props himself up on his side, resting his weight on his elbow, free hand playing with the joint. “I think I’m the only person keeping that place alive.” It’s true. He’s never seen anyone else visiting, even during his longer visits when he couldn’t decide on what to buy or just revelled in the music softly playing from somewhere in the back of the shop.

Much like him being the only person fanning the flames of his affections towards Changbin. He huddles around the flame, seeking its warmth in the desolate room of his mind. There’s no one else beside him. There never was. He thinks Chris might know, or at least have an inkling that there’s more to Hyunjin’s clear favoritism towards the root of their group, but he never spoke to him nor to Changbin about it (as far as he knows).

The fire is what keeps him alive. Whenever he neglects the flame, abandons it out of frustration, his skin grows cold, his lips gain a sickly blue hue to them until he realises once more that he needs the flame. So he stays.

Just like the owner of that record shop. In the few conversations they had, the owner shared enough of his own insights to make it clear he was the captain of the ship and he wouldn’t leave even after its begun to sink, rather dying with it than leave it behind. Hyunjin could relate.

They don’t get very far in the Fleetwood Mac album before Changbin grows bored of staring at the little CD booklets. He suddenly lays a big, warm hand on Hyunjin’s thigh and he jolts at the sudden physical touch. Changbin does not know how to hold back his touches when high. Hyunjin’s cheeks grow warm and more warmth pools in the pit of his stomach. He hates it. Craves it regardless.

“Let’s go before all the good alcohol is gone.”

The party is being thrown by people they don’t know nor care to know. Someone who knew someone who knew someone invited Changbin and he invited Hyunjin, so it didn’t really matter.

Hyunjin just hopes he doesn’t get arrested tonight.

The location is sketchy at best, dangerous at worst. An abandoned apartment complex on the edge of town that is visibly falling apart even from the outside. Crude and artistic graffiti both find their way onto the house facade amongst all the cracks in the concrete and the greenery that has sprouted wherever it could take back its territory.

Dilapidation finds its way into every corner of the part of town they’re in. Not one soul in sight, either, that isn’t going to be at the party. Loud music penetrates the crumbling walls and spills out onto the streets.

Hyunjin just wants to get drunk, possibly high (most of his buzz wore off on the walk over to the place) and then pass out somewhere close to Changbin before anything horrible could happen. He needed to get rid of all the pent-up stress, anxiety and sexual frustration tonight or else he might explode if Changbin so much as looks at him.

He makes all kinds of noises as they walk, all the silver jewellery on him clinking and his heavy boots thumping into the asphalt.

It’s a trashy party, so Hyunjin’s going to look trashy. He’s wearing a sleeveless muscle tee of one of his favorite bands that threatens to expose his chest when he lifts his arms with matching (really) ripped baggy jeans. There’s a slight tug of excitement whenever he has to look down just a little more when talking to Changbin because of his thick soles.

He’s always loved their height and size difference.

The evening air is crisp. The feeling of air passing over his head feels funny. He sticks close to Changbin as they approach the house. The party seems to have been going for a while already and it’s absolutely packed . People spill out of the apartments and onto the staircase with at least one or two cups of whatever the hell they were offering in there in their hands.

Crowds make Hyunjin nervous and put him on high alert. A persistent parasite nesting inside his head whispers into his ear that all of the people around him keep their malicious gazes on him and only him and when they whisper it’s always about him and how strange he is. When he passes people, hands wander where they shouldn’t because Hyunjin is attractive and naturally sensual in the way he carries himself, so it’s fine for other’s to touch him without permission, right? He’ll like it.

On the way up the few flights of stairs to where the main party is being held, Hyunjin’s hand tangles itself into the fabric of Changbin’s shirt and in silent understanding, Changbin’s arm comes to rest around his waist to guide him through the crowd of the packed house party.

A few heads turn their way, but their gazes stop at the top of his head. He still shrinks a little into Changbin’s side until they reach the living room, where the music is the loudest and the floor feels the stickiest because of all the spilled alcohol.

It’s downright obscene how thrashed most of the people are when the party had started only two hours ago. People making out on every surface imaginable, pushed against the walls, grinding against each other, hands wandering to grab regardless of how many bystanders are around. Hyunjin’s eyes settle on a girl perched atop her boyfriend’s (or boytoy for the night) lap. Her hand is gently cradling his jaw, tipping his head to look up at her before she softly blows smoke into his waiting mouth, kissing him right after.

If they were intoxicated enough, would Changbin let him do the same? Hyunjin would sit so prettily on his lap, all obedient and featherlight touches rewarding Changbin for his generosity as he takes a hit first. Changbin would look up at him, unashamedly oogling and caressing the curves of his body as he patiently waits for him to lean closer. He would be tantalisingly slow with it, teasing him and rolling his hips into him as he urges his lips apart and Changbin would make a cute little noise and their shotgunning would fail because it’d make Hyunjin laugh and cough because of the smoke. And it wouldn’t even matter because Changbin would look into his eyes with so much love in them that Hyunjin feels like clawing himself out of his skin.

He doesn’t realise he’s staring at them until Changbin tugs at him. “Let’s get some drinks first.”

“Yeah, sure.”

More squeezing through sweaty rows of people (Hyunjin is almost sure he stepped on a couple of feet) and they reach the guy hoarding all of the alcohol to be handed out. There’s beer bottles as well as a huge punch bowl whose liquid is an ominous brown color. Changbin decides to go the safer route first and grabs two beers for them.

Some regret of leaving the house at all tonight seeps into Hyunjin after taking the first sip. “This shit is piss-warm.”

Changbin cackles and guides him back to where everyone was violently dancing or rather grinding. “You’re here to get drunk, it doesn’t matter as long as it hits you hard and fast, does it?”

Hyunjin impatiently clinks the metal of his rings against the glass a few times. He’s not sure why he’s suddenly so irritated by everything when it was him who urged Changbin to come here in the first place. We could use a break , he said. I just wanna let go for one evening, drink and smoke and ignore all this… stress . “We could do that in your dorm,” Changbin offered but Hyunjin vehemently refused that option.

What he didn’t need was to spend an entire evening in a small enclosed space with him, intoxicated with his walls and inhibitions down. Especially, or specifically, because lately he couldn’t go one day without pathetically touching himself to the thought of Changbin, Changbin, Changbin . He would never do anything against his will but the mere suggestion would reveal his hidden heart.

Hormones made this whole non-chalant “I am not in love with my best friend, it will pass” act a lot harder than Hyunjin wishes it would be.

The wound was still steadily drooling blood, love trickling out of him in an neverending leak and anyone who discovered it would find out the trail would always lead to Changbin.

They don’t do a lot except drink and mingle for a while. Changbin is conversing here and there with people who know him and they conveniently pull him into it when they drunkenly realise they’ve been neglecting the person who’s standing right next to Changbin and has been glaring at them for the entire duration of it.

Some of them give passing compliments to Hyunjin.

You look fuckin’ hot, dude.

Wow, Bin! I didn’t know you had a cute friend like that.

My place isn’t far from here. There’s also an empty apartment downstairs (said with a wink at the end).

With every person coming by and interrupting his time with Changbin, Hyunjin’s social battery drained more and more while the alcohol in his system doubled. The room was spinning gently, not overly so, and the faces of the people around them blurred into insignificance, calming his rising anxiety. And as much as he enjoys the physical attention of having Changbin keeping his arm propped up right behind him, it kind of makes him want to eat the glass bottle in his hand.

“I wanna dance.” Changbin grabs his wrist and tugs him towards the pile of partygoers on the self-designated dancefloor.

Hyunjin doesn’t move and his wrist glides out of his grip. “I need a break, man. I don’t feel so good. It’s getting a little much.”

An ice shard lodges itself into his chest when Changbin furrows his brows looking confused for a moment. “’m still gonna dance, just don’t go too far, yeah?”

Oh.

That’s not the answer he expected.

Changbin usually goes everywhere he goes at events. Only goes to events in the first place if Hyunjin comes too.

Before he can complain (plead) Changbin disappears into the crowd and leaves him alone.

Fine. Whatever. Hyunjin can babysit himself for a while.

With raised shoulders he stomps outside the apartment, not caring about the blurred faces he bumps into on the way out. His back to the wall, he sinks down onto the singular step close to the apartment entrance.

“Fuckin’ stupid Changbin,” he mumbles to himself as he drinks the rest of the beer.

Hyunjin is pretty fucking sick of feeling so miserable all the time. Getting through the days has been hard enough lately, with all the college work piling up, but he constantly has to worry his head over Changbin on top of all of it. There wasn’t a single day where he didn’t think about Changbin and the bonecrushing love he feels for him.

The wound keeps on spilling his blood. It seeps through every tourniquet, every fabric that is pressed to it to stop the bleeding. The harder you try to stop it, the stronger it gushes out of him and onto the floor, leaving him pale and weak and helpless.

He groans. A clammy hand over the top of his head. The bottle smashed against the wall right beside him. Everyone’s ignoring him.

“You leaving?” He asks a couple who can’t keep their hands off of each other, slurring his words slightly. Both of them have full bottles in their hands.

The guy nods.

“Leave your shit with me.” He nods towards the beer and they actually listen him, probably because his tone was so unusually demanding and their hands might as well already be shoved down eachother’s pants.

Hyunjin must make quite the scary hallway guardian, sitting there in his baggy clothes, a deep crease between his brows, the corpse of a beer bottle near him and two more innocent victims waiting to be smashed against the wall. He scoffs and drags a hand over his face. Ridiculous.

There’s absolutely no reason for him to act this way and yet, instead of dancing with Changbin, like he would have done on any another day, he’s sitting outside on the stairs like a child throwing a temper tantrum. He feels like one.

But his anger is justified, right?

Years upon years of being in love with your best friend while knowing you will never have him will do that to you. The constant teasing, the playful love confessions, the natural physical affection coming from him, the way he’s so nice and especially nice to Hyunjin all the time – he would drop everything in the blink of an eye for him, no questions asked, has done so on multiple occasions no matter if Hyunjin is calling him in severe distress or asking him out of nowhere to drive him somewhere.

It's not crazy to carry some hope that all of that means something , right?

And now, when he’s already down, lost in his own pit in hell, Changbin keeps tugging at him gently, keeping physical contact the entire night and looking at him with those eyes. And right when his hopes are the highest, his nerves strung the tightest, he lets him fall.

Hyunjin can only take so much before he breaks.

He shakes his head and takes small sips from the bottle. “Warm and has lipstick on it…” he laughs and tears gather in his eyes.

It’s all fucked. Why couldn’t he have a crush on a nice girl like everyone else?

With a sigh, he leans against the wall behind him. This way, he can still stalk the inside of the apartment and between all those people, insignificant and in their own world anyway, he can see Changbin ever so slightly hidden within the crowd, just a few meters away from him. He’s laughing, drinking with one hand and smoking with the other.

Time seemingly stays still as he gazes at him from all the way down the corridor.

He wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to dance. It’s almost impossible to move properly or execute actual dance moves when the crowd is going almost chest to chest and shoulder to shoulder.

The way he moves is mesmerising. It’s smooth and absolutely unfair how it makes Hyunjin throb in his pants – Changbin knows what he’s doing with his hips. He’s sweaty and his shirt clings to him, clings to his chest that Hyunjin desperately wants to grab and squeeze ever since he started working out diligently.

Hyunjin licks his lips, salty sweat gathering on his tongue.

There’s a hand on his shoulder suddenly, fingering the patches on Changbin’s denim vest. A delicate hand, a woman’s. Hyunjin knows where this is going but he can’t tear his gaze off him, despite every instinct in his body telling him to avert his eyes before he gets hurt. The hand slides tantalisingly slow down his shoulder and Changbin turns around, smiles, they whisper something to each other, her lips are so close to his ear and then his hand finds her waist.

Hyunjin feels like throwing up.

The room closes in around him and it’s getting kind of hard to breathe. Yet he can’t look away.

Just like everybody else at this stupid party she gets way too close to him, their faces are so close that Hyunjin is sure she can smell his minty breath tinted by beer and weed. Changbin says something to her again and she fucking giggles , leans her head onto his shoulder like it’s the funniest shit she ever heard.

He imagines himself in her place. If only he had said yes to dancing with him, it actually might have been. Changbin would have to look up at him, arms tightly wrapped around his slim waist as they both grind against each other under the guise of dancing, grinning like madmen and whispering soft jokes to each other that only they could understand. He would tangle his hand in Changbin’s hair, the hair that he knows is so soft to the touch, especially when his curls come out. The steady pressure of his hands against his waist would bring Hyunjin peace and excitement bubbling up in his stomach. With a giggle, he would lean his head against his shoulder, press some kisses into the skin there as they move to the music that was enveloping only the two of them.

Changbin would lean his head against his, squeeze his waist in a display of affection, whisper into his ear and Hyunjin would know that he was his for the taking, to keep forever. Roaming hands over broad muscles, feeling each and every bump of his skin that so easily gives way to his fingers. Despite all the smoke and scent of alcohol clinging to him, Hyunjin would be able to sense the scent that is so undeniably Changbin , so intoxicating and dizzying. Hyunjin can’t get enough of it. Presses his nose into the crook of his neck and inhales deeply.

A cloud of smoke obstructing his view dissipates the illusion. The arms around Changbin’s neck fade into more delicate ones, the figure now smaller and curvy. It’s not Hyunjin cradled into his arms anymore.

The uncomfortable wound sitting in the pit of his stomach rips open and his guts spill out onto the floor, right in front of the staircase. Hyunjin can’t even make an effort to scoop them up to try and shove them back where they belong. His throat feels tight and he’s sad and pissed and angry and just. So, so utterly broken.

He pulls at his hair, eyes squeezed shut to center himself. The ice shard digs itself deeper into the empty cavity of his heart and here, outside of the apartment, just a few meter away from the one he loves, sits alone and shattered. Hyunjin cackles, wetly and hoarse.

His heart doesn’t matter. No one will ever love him in the way that he loves. Hyunjin just has to accept it and move on, settle with the thought of being in a relationship with a nice girl he meets in college. Later, they’ll marry and they’ll be so happy and Hyunjin will be damned to excruciatingly boring missionary sex for the rest of his life, maybe until he has a kid or two and the sexual desire and last bits of love slowly fizzle out between him and his wife. But he’d stay because he’s not that type of guy. She’ll figure out one day that he never loved her, not like that at least, Hyunjin can see himself growing to love and care for his future wife in a friendly manner, he owes her that much, but can’t bring himself to more. She’ll know and she’ll confront him about it in their large queen-sized bed with a dent in the middle where their separate mattresses meet. Hyunjin will apologise, he's not that type of guy, he’ll tell her that there was always someone else in his heart and he couldn’t get rid of him, no matter how much he tried, no matter how much love he carved into his own heart for their family. She’ll smile sadly at him in understanding, she always had an inkling, she’d say and pat his thigh in understanding. Hyunjin would still hold her that night when she cries into his matching set of pajamas. Their kids would know years later and maybe they’d hate him a little less for not forsaking their family and providing a somewhat happy existence for them. Maybe they’d hate him specifically for not leaving and giving them a chance to start over.

“Fucking hell,” he mumbles into his hands and drinks the last sips of his beer. Something has to change. He needs a distraction. At this point he’ll take anything to distract from the blood trickling out of him.

With renewed energy, he gets up from his space on the staircase, slightly slumping to the side. He stomps back into the apartment, eyes peeled for the cute brunette who half-jokingly offered to take him back to her place earlier in the night. If Changbin is allowed to whore around while he is here to see it, he might as well get payback, right?

She stands in one of the doorways, a little ways away from the bustling crowd, playing with the empty cup in her hands. A pretty head sits on an even more attractive body, curvaescous and sinful how her tits almost spill out of the lace bra peeking out from her top.

When she notices him coming her way, her entire face lights up and she waves. “Hyunjin!”

He doesn’t remember her name. “Hey.”

Bold right from the start, he uses one hand to brace himself against the doorframe and leaning closely into her space, effectively trapping her between his body and the wall. She doesn’t seem to mind, instead giggling to herself and caressing his chest with a soft, delicate hand. “So bold, all of a sudden. Want to take my offer after all?”

He puts his best flirtatious smile on and lets his hand wander from her waist to her hip, squeezing her there. “Maybe. If you can keep up.”

“Mhm, I’m pretty sure you got loads of stamina, but you’re gonna be gasping for air once I’m done with you,” she giggles, playing with the open sleeve of his muscle tee, tickling the skin of his arm and ribs.

To seal the deal, she leans forward in an attempt to kiss his pretty lips but Hyunjin avoids her and chuckles, pressing her more firmly into the doorframe by her hips. The sound coming from her is nearly a moan.

“I don’t kiss,” he tells her, trying his absolute best to remain playful yet make sure his request is conveyed with the necessary seriousness. Under no circumstances will he kiss someone, no matter how wasted he is. That’s off the table.

She rolls her eyes and lets a finger ghost over his nipple. “Boooring, but fine. Whatever you want, prettyboy.”

“Is your place really that close or should we…”

“Let’s take the apartment downstairs. I pinky-promise nobody is there and nobody will hear, you have to promise to be quiet though… the things I want to do to you...”

Hyunjin intended to make this at least a little more romantic and classy by also being willing to take her to his place but apparently all she can think of is how get his dick into her mouth as fast as she can. He shrugs.

A shadow approaches them from his periphery but Hyunjin ignores them. He’s not eager for a brawl with some drunken dude who thinks he’s fucking up his chances with the girl he totally , really wanted to talk to at some point. “I’ll even offer to pay for your taxi, no way you’re walking home after all that…”

They’re almost ready to leave this miserable party behind when a strong hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder makes him stop in his tracks. “What you should be thinking about is getting sober first, Hyunjin. You’re wasted.”

Anger flares up inside him upon hearing the voice and its utterly stupid demand.

He lets go of the girl to turn around and face Changbin who seems much more sober than when he betrayed and left him. Hyunjin’s fire burns aggressively. The cool drop of water falling upon his soul when seeing Changbin’s face dissolves into nothing and leaves behind a mere ripple.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?”

Changbin’s mouth opens slightly. He didn’t expect Hyunjin to talk to him like this. “I just don’t think you should be looking for someone to fuck right now, you’re drunk… probably high, too.”

Hyunjin only notices the girl behind him slipping away from the awkward situation when he sees Changbin’s confused eyes follow her form before snapping back to him. He huffs. “So are you? Lame fucking excuse.”

How is any of this fair? He can borderline dry hump a girl in the middle of a house party but if Hyunjin looks for a little fun, suddenly he’s too drunk and high to do any of that? “You’re being selfish,” he spits, his fingers trembling in his fist.

“You’re not being reasonable right now and that’s okay. Just… Sober up a little, yeah? Then we can talk about this again.” Changbin’s face has morphed from confusion to pure concern. He’s seen Hyunjin like this before and it usually ends with him bleeding from somewhere or yelling at someone he didn’t want to yell at. He takes a step towards him but Hyunjin evades him.

“Tell that to your little girlfriend, why don’t you. She clearly didn’t mind having an intoxicated brute digging his dick into her thigh like a horny teenager who just discovered he can get hard.” In the back of his head, a small voice is calling out for him to stop but it’s entirely drowned out by the raging flames.

“Hyunjin.”

“No, fuck you. You’re being fucking unfair and selfish right now.”

It hurts him when he leaves, the afterimage of Changbin standing in the crowd completely dumbfounded by his sudden outbreak stings behind his eyes but he can’t stand to see him right now. Doesn’t he see how much his heart aches? That there’s something so deeply wrong with Hyunjin that he has to cope with it in a way that assures Changbin will never have to see the ugly truth of it?

He escapes into an empty bedroom somewhere and sits down on the edge of the bed, slouched over with his head in his hands. Somewhere in the distance, the song repeats that has been playing for the entire duration of their little encounter. Hyunjin chokes a laugh at the irony.

Rhiannon .

His favorite song. And now it’s tainted forever.

His fist hits the bedframe before the tears break out of him in waves. It aches and it aches and Hyunjin is helpless to stop the bleeding – he doesn’t know how to. Everything spills out of him and all he can do is desperately try to scoop everything up and watch it sift through the cracks of his trembling fingers.

Changbin will never understand. He must not understand because that would make him leave.

Hyunjin’s head is pounding and regret for his outbreak seeps into him. It was unfair of him to demand Hyunjin to behave while he did the same thing, even without knowledge of why Hyunjin was seeking solace in another person’s body.

That Changbin and him ended up in other people’s beds at the end of the night wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. For him, it’s to try and force out the persistent feelings he has for his best friend. Fucking into another person, focusing entirely on making somebody else see stars that night, kept his brain occupied for the most part except for the times it didn’t and Hyunjin wished it was Changbin there beneath him and not some girl he met on campus. At first, he tried to get with guys, his idea was that he just needed to fuck enough of them because his brain was stuck on the very limited options he used to have – Changbin was just a convenient person to fall in love with at the time, that was his reasoning.

Then Chris sat him down one evening and asked him with the most concern in his eyes he had ever seen on him, whether he was okay or not. Hyunjin was offended, tried to brush him off but Chris has this unavoidable thing about him that just makes you open up later anyway. He didn’t tell him that he was in love with Changbin, that would put too much risk on his secret being revealed, but he did tell him he was in love with a guy he most likely couldn’t have. Chris was sympathetic but firmly told him that sleeping with anyone who would let him wasn’t the solution. It might even be dangerous for him.

And for a while, that heart-to-heart worked. Hyunjin stopped seeking out the guys who gave him a lookover, or the guys who vaguely looked like Changbin who he prayed were into guys. Some weren’t, according to themselves, but fucked Hyunjin anyway. He had to put in most of the work to make himself actually come at the end of the night because all they wanted to do was hammer their hips into him while refusing to touch his dick (because that would make it gay or something) but at least his body felt limbless and sated for a few hours.

Hyunjin relapsed when Changbin refused to stop flirting with girls around him. He tried, he really tried to deal with his fucked up little heart in a healthy manner. He worked on getting better, worked on getting over Changbin but every single time, Changbin found a new way to shatter him completely and it took increasingly more time to pick up all the pieces.

It had a numbing effect to have someone fall asleep on his chest and whisper sweet praises and hasty declarations of love into his ear that were meaningless in the morning.

He’s so jealous it hurts. The scene of Changbin grinding up on that girl refuses to leave his mind and he almost starts pounding his fist into the side of his head in an attempt to get it out of there.

Get a fucking grip, man.

He can’t allow himself to freak out this publicly.

Fear climbs up his spine when there’s a sudden knock on the bedroom door. Like a startled animal, he scrambles to his legs and flees into the attached bathroom in hopes of evading whoever followed him here.

He didn’t have the nerves to deal with the girl from before, much less Changbin .

From behind the closed door, he can hear a sigh. His heart pounds in his ribcage, the coolness of the sink does little to help cool his hot skin down.

“Hyunjin, I’m not stupid. I just want to talk, can you please open the bathroom door on your own?”

“No.”

Another sigh.

“Please. What you said wasn’t okay, but I’m not mad, I promise. Let’s talk.”

He opens the door just a crack, enough to signal Changbin that it was alright to come in.

Trapped in a bathroom with him once more, Hyunjin sits on the closed toilet seat while Changbin stands in front of the broken cupboard on the opposite side. He’s lost his vest at some point in the night and now all that Hyunjin can stare at is the expanse of skin stretching over the mountainous muscles of his arms and the sweat glistening in the low light. Despite it all, Changbin still looks so fucking good.

“Can you tell me why you freaked out like that?”

“I just don’t understand why I’m not allowed to fool around but you are! That’s unfair, don’t you think? Like, why… why do I have to control myself but you, who’s just as fucked up by the way, can do the same with someone else. I don’t get it.”

Changbin sighs deeply and shakes his head. “Hyunjin, do you really want to fuck a random girl at some party while you can’t even walk a straight line?”

He scoffs. “Yes! Clearly!”

“Are you that pent-up? You’ve never acted like this towards me over shit like this.” It’s clear from how Changbin is talking to him that he isn’t actually mad at him in the way that he’s going to act pissy about Hyunjin yelling at and saying vile things to him. He’s genuinely concerned. Now Hyunjin just feels like an asshole.

“I dunno…” he mumbles. It’s still getting to him that he’s yet again alone with Changbin in an enclosed space. He can practically feel the heat radiating off of him, smell the alcohol and weed on him, the faint lingering scent of his cologne mixed with the thin layer of sweat coating his skin. A necklace he borrowed from Hyunjin is tantalisingly laying on the exposed skin of his chest, almost mocking him. “…I guess. No, I mean. That’s not why I’m mad. It’s the principle.”

“The principle of what?”

Hyunjin fiddles with his rings, turns them on his finger. “You bossing me around like that.”

“Because I didn’t allow you to make a stupid decision?”

He huffs, anger surging but dissipating in a cloud of exhaustion. “Let me make stupid decisions sometimes, I’m not a fucking baby anymore.”

It’s too crowded. Way too crowded. Hyunjin needs to move around, so he gets up and walks over to the sink, anxiously chewing on the flesh of his finger. “Why do you even care if I fuck a random girl?”

Changbin follows him, crowds him against the dusty counter next to the sink. Hyunjin’s heart is beating so fast that he’s afraid Changbin can hear every thump of it. “You’re my… we’re friends, of course I’ll care.”

“Friends…”

It would be so easy to just kiss him. Changbin’s lips are so close, so plush and cute and pink, it would be so incredibly easy for Hyunjin to just lean down and take them between his. He wants to. Badly . But Hyunjin doesn’t kiss people and he’s still a little drunk and he can still see that Changbin’s eyes are a little glassy too.

Changbin doesn’t want him in the way that he does.

Hyunjin suddenly feels very sick, his head slumps downwards, away from Changbin’s burning gaze. As if he could read his mind, Changbin’s hands settle on his waist to steady him, or maybe he just wanted to hold him. He can’t think in this oppressive heat and with the tension clogging his throat.

“You okay?” Changbin whispers, ducking underneath his head so he can look into Hyunjin’s eyes properly, so intimate, so close. Hyunjin might cry.

The hands on his waist squeeze the flesh and bone there and after a shuffle, Changbin is standing almost fully against him, the touch searingly hot. His thumb rubs soothing patterns into his hip but all it does is make that familiar warmth pool in the pit of his stomach.

“Hyunjin… You’re so pretty.”

“Don’t say that right now… Please.”

He’s pleading and he doesn’t even know for what. For mercy, perhaps.

For Changbin to take one look at him and decide to have mercy on this pathetic victim of his broken heart.

But Changbin isn’t one for mercy. He’s persistent. Someone who pushes and pushes and pushes until he gets what he wants, even in the gentlest ways possible. His head dips further to lean his forehead against his, his nose poking against Hyunjin’s to turn his head to get at him at a better angle.

Hyunjin is a weakling. A kiss would ruin him completely, knowing the weight of it would crush him while it was a mere speck of dust for the other. He turns his head away, leans his hot cheek against his but Changbin latches onto his neck instead, peppering wet kisses everywhere he can reach. With fervor, his hands roam the muscles of his back, clearly feeling him up.

This is everything he ever wanted. Changbin wants him. What’s so bad about indulging? About pretending just for a little while that he wants more than just relief for the hardness digging into his thigh? That he wants him, all of him. Why does Hyunjin have to keep fighting against it, instead of being selfish and taking what he can get? The world is so unfair to him, can’t he have just one night to forget it all?

Changbin grunts right into his ear as he steadily rocks his hips against his thigh, lips never ceasing their movement against his salty skin. “’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, Bin, I’m sorry too.”

The last of his restraint snaps when Changbin moans.

He wants to savor this, but he can’t take too much. His heart won’t be able to survive. So his hands scramble to push him to stand in front of the sink before he falls down to his knees right in front of him, pleading eyes looking up at the man towering above him.

“Can I…? Bin, let me, please, can I…?” He paws at the zipper of his pants, watches Changbin’s blown pupils peer down at him with so much adoration it physically hurts him, forces his gaze to snap back to the tent in his pants.

“Y-yeah… yeah, you can. Please , Hyune.”

Trembling fingers fiddle with the zipper. Clammy hands pull Changbin’s erection out of his pants.

Oh . Hyunjin is pleasantly surprised when he feels the weight of him in his hand. His own dick strains painfully against the fabric of his pants, but he was insignificant right now. All that ever mattered was Changbin.

A silent plea of “Hyune…” and an urging push of his head breaks him out of his reverie, heart beating fast against his ribcage as his mind snaps back into focus on the task at hand. This was a meaningless and quick thing between friends. He can’t allow himself to think more of it.

Hyunjin shuffles closer on his knees, one hand held against his thigh for balance and then he presses his lips to the side of his shaft and inhales his intoxicating scent. Soft kisses are pressed into the silky skin, much too soft and loving to pretend this was anything but earth shattering for Hyunjin. With his hand, he massages the head, squeezing and coating the flesh with the saliva steadily trickling down his tongue.

To Changbin, this probably isn’t much different to any other blowjob he has gotten.

To Hyunjin, it was the final bell tolling to signal his death.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty, do you even know that?” Almost as if in pain, Hyunjin squeezes his eyes shut at the words and noses more at his shaft, spreading more of his saliva all over his dick for the glide of his hand to become smoother. This is meaningless fooling around between friends, he tells himself again.

“Come on, stop teasing, Hyune,” Changbin grunts and tries to grab a hold of hair that isn’t there anymore. He chokes a laugh. “Forgot you were almost bald,” he mumbles deliriously and instead lays a hand flat against the side of his head, running his fingers through the short strands for a moment, enjoying the pleasant scratchy feeling against his skin before pushing Hyunjin’s face closer to his cock. “I know it might be a bit uncomfortable but I’m sure you can take it, hm? Will you be good for me?”

The words cause him to whimper against him, his hips bucking into nothing. He nods mindlessly against him, peppering more sloppy kisses along the wet silky smooth skin.

Hyunjin is blindly worshipping him, taking what he can get, remembering the shape of him as it drags against his lips. He kisses the head, laps at it greedily and braves a quick glance upwards. “Fuck,” Changbin caresses his skull again and keeps up the eye contact between them, something almost resembling affection gleams in his eyes before he throws his head back, shattering the miniscule connection that had started building between them.

Changbin is hard against his lips, the tip an angry red. It must hurt, so Hyunjin focuses there, lapping at the ridges and his slit, lightly sucking on just the tip of him, dragging his tongue everywhere he can reach.

“So good, so pretty, just for me. Ah, fuck, Hyunjin…”

Hyunjin sobs and it can almost be mistaken for a moan. Eyes squeezed shut and the world around them turned off, he braves the final plunge into the ice cold water and finally, finally takes him into his mouth.

This is all meaningless. Enjoy it while you can, it won’t last. It keeps echoing in his head and he really, really tries to follow his own thoughts but it’s hard to concentrate with his best friend and year-long crush’s dick in his mouth and his own cock beginning to stain the inside of his boxers.

“Knew your lips would look perfect like this.” Changbin is rambling above him, throwing compliments and wild words around the room like meaningless fodder meant to fill the silence. They’re not meant to penetrate Hyunjin’s skin like razor sharp blades, yet they bury themselves deep into him. He’s powerless to stop his own destruction – he embraces the thorns, hugs them to his body to keep them embedded within his skin. If all Changbin can do to satisfy Hyunjin’s sick desire to be loved is to drive blades into him until he stills, then Hyunjin will gladly help him point them towards his vitals with a smile.

He gags on his cock as he forcefully shoves it deeper down his throat to drown out his thoughts.

“Easy there, you’re already doing so well, Hyune. Your mouth feels so fucking perfect.”

Hyunjin coughs when he pulls off his cock with a pop. His brows are furrowed when he looks up at Changbin. “Use me,” he tells him, voice thin and strained.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I don’t care. Do it, Changbin.”

He leaves him no choice. Both of his hands are braced on his thick thighs when he takes him back into his mouth but refuses to move.

“What did I do to deserve you? Fuck.”

You don’t even know the extent of what I would do for you.

Despite his initial hesitation and probably thanks to the horny fog clouding his mind, Changbin snaps his hips into his welcoming mouth once he’s placed his hands at the back of his head and neck. Hyunjin concentrates on breathing through his nose and keeping his cheeks hollowed to give him the most pleasure he can provide like this.

His own cock aches and throbs against his thigh, laying neglected in the confines of his pants. It’s stuffy and he can barely breathe through Changbin’s cock hitting the back of his throat repeatedly. A slow panic builds in his lungs but he forces it down like bile, removing one hand from his thigh to palm his own dick.

He moans and moans, sending shocks of vibration down his shaft. Being used feels good. Being used by Changbin feels even better. He would go forever if he could. Hyunjin has never been so hard before despite not being touched once. The building pressure in the pit of his stomach signals he’s so close, too, just a little more, just a few thrusts more, just a few grunts and moans from Changbin would be enough to send him over the edge as he massages his aching cock.

“So fucking good for me. Like you were made for me.”

It’s just words.

Words spoken in a haze.

He’s drunk.

He would say this to anyone. Hyunjin might as well just be a random person and he’d still moan over how they were made for him. Sculpted just for him to love and to fuck however he liked.

Hyunjin was just a placeholder. Someone who was good enough in the moment.

A shell made to be filled by someone else in the future, someone who fits better against Changbin’s side than him.

Tears flow down Hyunjin’s face. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the near panic attack he just had or the cum hitting the back of his throat in spurts. But he braves it. For Changbin. He digs his nails into his thigh and squeezes his own dick just a little harder to be able to take it smoothly. Like the good friend that he is, he swallows everything Changbin gives him and licks the rest off the corners of his mouth.

His legs are numb.

All of him is.

“Sorry, I didn’t ask whether I could…”

When Hyunjin doesn’t move from his spot or react to him gently tapping his shoulder, Changbin tucks himself back in to wet a tissue in the sink behind him.

Hyunjin is dazed, trapped in the confines of his own mind but he still distantly feels the lukewarmness of the piece of paper used to carefully clean him up as best as one could with a flimsy paper tissue and the warm, sticky wetness spreading across the front of his pants. In the distance, he can vaguely make out the ending chords of Rhiannon . It played the entire time they…

“Hyunjin, do you want to go home? I’ll take you home. Wait, was I too rough? Hold on, you…” Changbin’s voice becomes nothing more than just the backdrop of Hyunjin’s descent into madness. He keeps talking and talking, moving about the bathroom, leaving the bathroom, coming back and Hyunjin still sits there. Changbin fusses over him for a while. Then, something happens that Hyunjin doesn’t register and suddenly Changbin doesn’t come back when he leaves the bathroom the next time.

The horrible realisation that Changbin was just like most other people he slept with settles in his bones like lead.

Hyunjin wants to cry, to curl up on the cold bathroom floor and weep that nobody is near him to hold him close, tell him that he’s done well and pepper his sore body with kisses. Kisses that meant something. His skin is clammy when he slowly cracks free from his petrification, slinging his arms around his form in a hug.

The endless weight resting on his shoulders makes it harder and harder for him to get up from his place beneath the waves.

A ruined man stares back at him from the mirror.

Hyunjin has always found a kind of solace when looking into a mirror. His beauty was one thing that he was sure of, something tangible to cling to. Even through the relentless bullying, nobody could deny his pretty face.

If he lost everything, he could still get by with that.

It had a calming effect. And while at first Hyunjin resented himself for possessing a delicate beauty, he grew to like it – he started to find himself attractive.

A sick part in the back of his head didn’t dislike the utterly ruined look marking his face. The man in front of him was beyond saving, makeup smeared, eyes as puffy and red as his lips, a stark contrast to his pale, sweaty skin and yet, there was a certain appeal there for Hyunjin. The splotchy red a reminder of the small part of heaven he had possessed just a few minutes before.

Maybe, if he had his camera with him, he would take a picture of himself in the reflection.

To remind himself of what once was.

That, for just a small moment in time, Changbin gave him a sliver of the attention he craved so much.

That, for just a small moment in time, Hyunjin was able to pretend that Changbin was his.

Just this once.

He traces the outlines of his face in the cool glass.

Something is stuck on his face and no matter how much he rubs at it, the unsettling sight of it persists. A smile. Crooked and fake, like somebody had glued a different mouth on him. It didn’t reach his eyes, nor did it look right.

But why?

He should be happy, should be smiling from ear to ear. This was everything he ever wanted, ever yearned for. To be desired by Changbin, just once in his miserable life. And now that it was over, all he could do was act like an ungrateful, greedy brat who would never be satisfied no matter how much you would offer him.

Hyunjin feels so hollow. Like somebody else could reach into his chest and find the cavity of it entirely empty, devoid of a heart, devoid of a purpose to keep the body built around it standing upright any longer.

A cold, sticky stain on his thigh is enough of an indicator that the physical intimacy of it was enough to satisfy his body, yet there was no burning passion nor vigor in it to quench the thirst of his greedy heart. Nobody has ever made him come almost untouched like this but he doesn’t feel the satisfaction or the euphoria of his orgasm.

It’s not Changbin’s fault. How could it be when he doesn’t know any better? Doesn’t know the depths of Hyunjin’s devotion, the calamity of his unwavering love for him. There was no reason for him to treat this any differently from his usual sexual encounters and yet it stings, rips the wound of his soul open at the corners.

He can’t stay in here. Everywhere he glances, he can see traces of Changbin and he fears if he stays any longer, he’ll do something to himself.

Hyunjin slaps his cheeks weakly in an attempt to reinvigorate himself. He cleans himself up as best as he can, shaky hands wiping down the front of his pants before leaving the damn bathroom behind.

He doesn’t look for Changbin, there’s no reason to, he can just walk home alone if he has to. Weaving through the staircase presents him with two options: calm down on a desolate back porch that leads to an inner courtyard or leave and go home.

The idea of self-harm was too dominant in his mind, his feet swiftly carrying him to the safer option, the porch.

It was already late into the night, a cool breeze softly caressing his hot skin, making his hairs stand on end. He leans on the rusty steel fence and just breathes for a moment. Every breath is like ice shards blooming inside his lungs.

The only person who was at fault for how everything went was himself.

He fell in love.

He could have stopped Changbin at any point. He was aware that this would tear him apart, yet he was greedy and gaslit himself into thinking there was no harm in indulging a single time.

Hyunjin is an addict. Relapsing was all too easy for him. You think you’re doing well for years at keeping the demon at bay, but one single drop, one single moment of weakness thrusts you right back into its arms and every time it gets harder to break the cycle.

How on Earth did Changbin do it all? He always seemed like he knew how to brave the tides and change with them when needed, even with all of the shit going on in their lives. Maybe that’s why Hyunjin clings to him so. When it all came down to it, it was Hyunjin who refused to move on.

He had never realised it before, but that’s what it was, wasn’t it? The reason why Hyunjin seems to be trapped in his own personal hell ever since he laid eyes on Changbin in the driveway of their mansion.

Changbin was changing, changing so violently with every passing year until the only person Hyunjin couldn’t recognise in the mirror anymore was himself. Everything was changing around him, yet he stayed the same.

Seasons came and went, a cycle, it rained, the fog came in, storms raged over the lands, the flowers bloomed and wilted and sprouted again, the sun exchanged its places with its lover, the moon and yet it was Hyunjin that stayed in his place. A place where he clung so desperately, until his fingernails bled and his knuckles whitened, to the moments they had shared together like they were everything that held him together.

Despite being aware that it was him driving the blade deeper and deeper, he had no intention of leaving that lonely memory that tasted so bittersweet on his tongue, until it tore him apart completely, drilled and driven through.

Hyunjin doesn’t know how much time passes with the bile sitting right in the back of his throat and his fist tightening around the rusty fence, leaving behind a bloody-brown shimmer on his palms.

He’s trapped, lost in a maze that has no entrance or exit. Every single day, he screams for help, for mercy but everything he gets in return is a tightening of the walls around him. He waits for the day he can’t move through the endless corridors anymore, stuck between two walls where he will pathetically starve.

The slide of the door behind him startles him, the noise so loud as it gets lost in the quiet night.

“Here you are.”

Hyunjin throws up over the fence.

It’s caught by all the plants that have slowly started taking back their territory. A warm, soothing hand rubs circles on his back. Another steadies him by holding his bicep.

When he’s spent and not even spit could leave his body any more, he rocks back on his heels, bumps into the body behind him with his hip.

“You okay?”

He glares at Changbin, a deadly gaze thrown over his shoulder. Changbin throws one hand up in an apology, mumbles one to accompany it. His free hand never leaves his waist. Hyunjin feels sick again, but he can’t will himself to move away.

“Never better.”

“Listen…” Changbin starts but Hyunjin interrupts him by turning around in his hold, unable to shake off the hand on his waist.

“Save it, Bin. It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

Changbin isn’t convinced. His eyebrows furrow just a bit as he takes Hyunjin’s battered form in. “I wanted to apologise for earlier, when we… I was too rough with you, you should’ve stopped me. No, wait, it’s not your fault, I should’ve noticed it was too much for you and I… shouldn’t have left you afterwards like that. That was stupid and wrong.”

He can feel him fiddling with the fabric of his muscle tee. Neither of them is looking away. “I thought you wanted to be alone after that, that… that I had crossed some sort of line between us. So I left. That was stupid. I’m sorry. I should’ve been there to take care of you, I usually… I don’t just leave partners behind like that when they need aftercare.”

Aftercare is a funny concept to Hyunjin.

With girls, it’s him who has to take care of them, and he always does without complaint – he knows how it is, to bear yourself to someone so they can plunge into you. It’s a vulnerable act and it always leaves you kind of helpless and craving for affection afterwards. He always wishes they would actually look at him when he tries to lovingly take care of them, that he would get a few words of affection back when he praises them for doing well.

With guys, it might as well not exist. They finish inside of him or the condom and that’s it. He’s lucky if they offer to clean him up or take a shower with him (mainly because they feel gross). If Hyunjin allows himself or them to stay, he sleeps alone on the side of the bed. If he sleeps at all while they’re cleanly knocked out behind him and he’s left alone with his sore body and increasingly loud thoughts.

Changbin tried. He appreciates that. Kind of. Cleaned him up, tried to talk to him but Hyunjin was unresponsive to it all. He must have thought he was ignoring him on purpose, not whatever he was actually going through.

“It’s okay, I was just a bit… out of it, I suppose. You weren’t too rough.”

“You sure? You just threw up.”

“You know I can’t take lots of alcohol and weed at the same time like that.”

Changbin sighs. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hyunjin bristles, suddenly alert. “About what?”

“You sucking me off.”

He finally averts his gaze and leans against the fence behind him. “Nothing to talk about there, no? It happened, we were both horny and needed some kind of relief, I’m a giver… so I sucked you off. No big deal.” There is no way anyone would believe him saying this. He doesn’t even believe it himself.

“Well, I guess, if you want to see it that way.”

He doesn’t want to see it like that at all.

“Yeah… Bin, we’re still friends, right?“ Hyunjin gazes back at him and finds him still looking at him like before, a worried little pinch of his eyebrows now evident on his face.

“Of course we’re still friends, Hyunjin. Things might be a little awkward now that I have an idea what you look like with a cock down your throat, mine specifically but… We’ll be okay.” He strokes the sides of his waist comfortingly and gives him one of those little downturned smiles that Hyunjin adores so much.

As if he forgot to turn off the stove at home, he squeezes him. “Wait, did you even..?”

Hyunjin cocks his head to the side. “Did I what?”

“Did you come?”

Of course , Changbin would be concerned about that. He’s perfect, after all. Hyunjin could only imagine what he would do to him in an actual, mutual sexual encounter. It sends a shiver of pleasure down his spine. “Y-yeah. In my pants… I-“

“That’s kinda hot,” Changbin chuckles, but his face contorts into pity at the end of the sound, like something pained him.

He tugs at Hyunjin to make him stumble forwards and then he hugs him tightly to his chest. “I know it’s a bit late for this but… You did so well. Took me so well. Maybe the greatest head I’ve ever received and I don’t say this lightly.” In addition to the comforting words, he traces shapes into the expanse of Hyunjin’s back.

Hyunjin can’t help but cling to him and yet again, take everything that Changbin is offering him, regardless of what it does to him. He chuckles wetly. “Thanks. I tried.”

Changbin doesn’t question him when he starts crying into his shirt. Just holds him there as he sobs and presses himself flush against him.

There was nothing Changbin could do but watch him bleed out in front of him as he clutches to him like a lifeline, ignorant that the wounds were caused by him. Changbin was killing him softly, gently, like a lover, lapping up every drop of blood trickling out of him not knowing that it was the love he hid seeping out of him. Hyunjin would keep dragging his numb body across glass shards ripping his body open just to be closer to him in his last moments.

What remained was the question of how long Hyunjin’s body could withstand the torture before it finally broke, taking down everything around him, tearing their friendship apart once and for all when all was revealed.

Changbin held his heart within his hands and Hyunjin drove the nails through tissue and bone to bind them together in this senseless stand-off forever.

With their chests together, it was maybe the only opportunity for Hyunjin to experience what it would feel like if their hearts beat as one, in tandem with each other – in love with each other. He cries harder, leans his weight on Changbin. He’ll take it, never wavers when it came to him.

Later, Changbin would take him home and his heart would feel a little lighter and not like Changbin was crushing it with the weight of his combat boots. They didn’t talk more about what had happened, a silent mutual understanding between them to keep it in the past and act as if it didn’t happen. Hyunjin would fail this spectacularly. How was he supposed to just pretend? To forget? When Changbin’s taste still lingered on his tongue and the shape of him pulsating in the back of his throat.

They won’t treat each other differently. Changbin still gives him a genuine smile when he picks him up, still lets him pick all the playlists for the car and pays for all his meals, no matter how expensive they are. Hyunjin still argues with him over his music taste, gifts him a record player a few years later just so he can force him to listen to his favorite records even at home; he still runs over to his dorm when he can’t sleep, annoying Changbin until he lets him sleep in his bed, he paints him a bouquet of his favorite flowers when they graduate and Changbin hands it up in his room and stare at it every night, imagining his room full of Hyunjin’s artworks.

Nothing changes.

Maybe everything changes but Hyunjin doesn’t notice, because all he ever does is stand still. Another moment added to his deranged collection.

Hyunjin was an addict, and now that he knew what Changbin tasted like, he craved him even more, greedy and selfish as he was. 

He knew his love was different, obsessive and sick. But it was love, too.