⊱ rooftop

@『 ✮ 』aerin lim。 "you seem cold. are you sure you're fine out here?" he blurted out, there was no warm he could offer and was clear to see that she was feeling chilly as the time passed by. taking a sip from his beer he watched her once again before answering "I would say so, I guess" Isaac being the antisocial he is, meeting new people doesn't bring anything good to his plate, but more trust issues, who's the next to follow him or to spy him. he was sure his mother knew where he was, how would be sure his father didn't either? "what do you do?" asking her that would be a nice way to see how honest she was and if there's some relation between her and his father in some way. bringing the joint back to his lips taking a few small puffs slowly.

@『 ✧ 』isaac hwang。 aerin couldn't help but watch the man take a puff, a little entranced by the smoke from his mouth. perhaps it's because aerin's been writing too many poems and has been trying to find art in the crevices where people would say there were none - but she finds it almost charming. wrapping her arms around herself, aerin wonders where to start her reply "it was alright, i stayed in mostly. then night came and i decided that it would do me good to get some sort of fresh air." tilting her head to the side, "so now i'm here, and i've met someone new. so i would consider that a very fruitful day, do you agree?"

@『 ✮ 』aerin lim。 the will to turn away was strong, but his eyes were now on the can of beer, a stranger just offered such gift there was no way he was going to be rude to her. pressing his lips together out of habit, he opened the can and took a sip before placing it down to light up the joint again. "normal day" he said, trying to keep the conversation short but still flowing enough. "yours?" asking while turning his head to the side to take a puff from his joint, avoiding the smoke to flew towards the female. enjoying the feeling of the smoke while still having the taste of the beer on his lips. his eyes averted back to the female noticing getting cold, but Isaac himself was only wearing a thin shirt since he was never the type to get cold easily

@『 ✧ 』isaac hwang。 when she spotted the man's smile, aerin couldn't help but let a bright expression overtake her face. bowing her head a little as well, she repeated the man's name softly to herself. "you're welcome, isaac. it's a pleasure to meet you." she replied. wondering if he would appreciate her talking to him a little more or for her to just back off a little and let him have his space. deciding that asking one more question wouldn't hurt, she spoke once more "how was your day, if i may be so bold to ask?" she pulled her cardigan closer to herself, the wind feeling just a touch more chilly on this side of the rooftop.

@『 ✮ 』aerin lim。 isaac was taken aback with the female's words and gestures, he didn't need it but the sight of that can of beer made him rethink of his next actions. beer with joint, one of the most amazing combinations in this world. it was like an angel sent that beer and it would be impossible for him to say no. pressing his lips together trying to force a small smile he bowed slowly. watching as he places the can, only to take it once her fingers leave it. "thank you." he said, those were probably his first words of the day, it was his day off and mostly spent inside his room playing some game or just smoking by his small balcony. "Isaac." regardless of his state, he couldn't stop but being minimally polite. blinking a few times he was waiting to see if the girl would just leave him or try to engage some sort of contact with him.

@『 ✧ 』isaac hwang。 undeterred from the obvious irritation the man was showing, aerin held out the beer, expression one of serenity. "i just wanted to let you know i was here as well, it seemed like you didn't know and i didn't want to surprise you later on." she looked at the can of beer for a moment and then to the man in front of her. aerin spoke once more, "consider this a payment for us to share the rooftop tonight. i'll leave it here." she put it down on the ledge, then wondered if she should actually introduce herself properly. 'ah, might as well', she thought. "i'm aerin, by the way. i'm sure we'll bump into each other in the future as well."

@『 ✮ 』aerin lim。 the sudden noise coming from his right side made him flinch, Isaac really thought he was all by himself there but was all in his mind. his gaze fell on a girl, she was rather close making him feel unease. he was basically stuck between the girl and the wall, nowhere to run or hide. taking another shaky puff as he became anxious to why she was there and why she would want to approach him. his eyes analyzed her from top to bottom, she looked quite young and clearly she was a residence of bellevue. with an annoyed tone, through hoarse and fainted words he simply ask. "yes? do you need something?" putting away his joint, he turned his full attention on the girl waiting for a reply from her.

@『 ✧ 』isaac hwang。 aerin's head turns when she senses someone else's presence on the rooftop. it seems like the other person hadn't noticed that aerin was there too. aerin watches silently at the way the man inhales his joints, wondering how it feels for a moment. she pulls out her phone and opens up the notes app, typing out a few words that bubbled forth when she saw the man. her fingers still and she puts her phone away. there's nothing there that's coherent enough for her to hold onto to really expand on for her new novel. a moment passes and she considers that she should say hello, make herself known. she has an extra can of beer she can use as a peace offering. she hopes silently to herself that the man won't recognize her. getting up with the extra can, she clears as she approaches.

@『 ✮ 』aerin lim。 night time was approaching quickly, almost unnoticed, Isaac was craving for another joint but not a regular one, he wanted to feel the cold breeze to embrace his face and take him whole. leaving his apartment, Isaac made his way upward to the rooftop. the view was beautiful, the kind of view that would make you lose yourself in the lights. leaning against the wall, he took one of his joints lighting it up and taking a puff. that was one of the most pleasant sensations in his life, the warmth intoxicating his whole being. if it wasn't for drugs to calm him down, Isaac would probably be a criminal, taking revenge with his own hands. so many times he wanted to murder his own brother, but his rational side always pushing him back. Isaac sighed after releasing all the smoke out of his lungs. it's going to be one of those nights, he thought, completely unaware if someone else was also at the rooftop.

@『 ✧ 』isaac hwang。 night had settled over the city, a shroud of darkness cloaking the city. the lights from the buildings have covered up most of the stars, aerin can't say anything poetic about the stars. taking a sip from her can of beer, she swings her legs mindlessly as she takes in the night air. her cardigan is large and wooly, protecting her from the slight chill of the night, but she still finds herself shivering. she's looking for more inspiration, something to spark a new writing to submit for publishing. her publisher has been telling her about all the wonderful responses she's gotten from her last released poem book, and she can tell that her publisher was holding back on telling her to write more - worried that kiha or aerin would refuse to write for that publishing company. another gulp of beer, aerin exhales into the sky.

@『 ✮ 』yeonwol moon。 Sanghoon is more selfish, more cruel than anyone knows.

It shows in the way he'd refused a painless breakup, in the way he'd called Yeonwol to the very rooftop that held memories of stargazing and gentle kisses, in the way he'd told Yeonwol he loved him despite what he was about to do, in the way that he'd refused to let go of Yeonwol's hands no matter how many times the older asked, in the way that despite Yeonwol's tearful pleas, Sanghoon doesn't want to listen. This is perhaps the first and last time he'll allow himself to act so selfishly, because what happens after this? What happens when the band's relationship crumbles apart inevitably, when Yeonwol turns his gaze away, with the chance that they'll never make amends? What happens then?

He doesn't know, but what he wants is simple — the memory of this final kiss, burned into the very crevices of his brain. He'll hold onto this memory for as long as his heart allows, savor the taste of Yeonwol's lips upon his, recall the memories of lollipop-flavored kisses and failed attempts at guessing which flavor he'd decided to pack for the evening. He'll hold onto the memory of Yeonwol's hands in his, of the sensation of soft locks of hair brushing against his cheeks, of the way Yeonwol's lips are so familiar, so warm, and so far away. Because they'll be far away from now on, maybe?

(It hurts to think that he'll never be able to kiss Yeonwol again.)

"Let me be cruel just this once, hyung."

And so, cries falling on deaf ears, Sanghoon leans forward, eyes falling shut as he takes in the press of lips upon his, wet with tears and the hesitation of heartbroken lovers. His lips move slowly, gently — similar to the first time they'd kissed, when Sanghoon had taken his time trying to commit Yeonwol's lips to memory. How ironic that he's doing the same thing now, under a rainy night sky, much like that fateful night when Sanghoon had decided to confess his feelings for the older man.

And he leans in further, deepening the kiss with a tilt of his head, with the press of chest upon chest, because this is it — the last time. Savor it, Sanghoon — he tells himself, because after this, he will only be able to watch Yeonwol from afar, the way he used to. After this, his nights will be spent longing for the warmth of his (ex) lover's skin on his — except it's worse this time, simply because Sanghoon is now familiar with the idiosyncrasies of Yeonwol's body. Back then, he hadn't been, and now that he knows how Yeonwol feels, it only makes it all the more difficult to pull away.

But he has to, eventually. And so he pulls away, lips parted, gaze soft, tears dripping, and only one thing leaves his lips:

"I'm sorry."

And with that, Sanghoon runs — leaves the rooftop with an urgency like he's never felt before, because he's a coward and a hypocrite — he can't even manage the words goodbye, only a cruel, selfish kiss that will haunt his dreams for the nights to come. He's a ing coward, he tells himself, heart cracking into two as Yeonwol's face, Yeonwol's tears, Yeonwol's lips — Yeonwol, Yeonwol, Yeonwol — Yeonwol only plagues his mind, his heart, his body. Not once has Sanghoon felt anguish like this, the fire that had propelled him to live out his days in happiness and energy extinguished with the heat of a simple goodbye kiss.

Even when Sanghoon is inside the safety of his room, it's funny, really — because it still feels like it's raining.

Sanghoon decides he hates the rain.

Yeonwol almost regrets meeting Sanghoon's eyes. Sanghoon still looks at him in both a familiar and unfamiliar way — familiar because it's the same eyes Yeonwol sees every day, looking at him; unfamiliar because it is just so... rare for Yeonwol to see it in anyone else. It's been more than a year, and still it feels new to his heart, exhilarating. Why can't he get used to this, he thinks to himself, because it should be easy to feel loved, to be at peace, but it's incredibly difficult when he doesn't even know what makes him the way he is; why his heart simply refuses to accept the love others think he deserves, and why his mind only tolerates what his heart does and even seeks ways how to let it stay that way.

To be protected is the answer, Yeonwol supposes. He's tired of pain and being left behind, and he wonders... wonders where exactly it went wrong.

Was it when he fell in love with music at the same time he fell in love with Ahyoung? Was it when he felt as though music was no longer in his hands because someone else had marked it? Was it when highschool came, and he was already different?

He believes it might be one of those, all of those or none at all — but he wonders if it's too late to try and fix a mistake so, so many years later into the present.

Maybe then he'd accept Sanghoon's declarations wholeheartedly. Maybe then he wouldn't have had second thoughts. Maybe then he wouldn't have been this insecure. But as Sanghoon tells Yeonwol he loves him, loves Yeonwol despite everything that he claims to be, Yeonwol only begins to question more and more when he thinks he's already accepted that this is the inevitable end of what might be the most beautiful thing to have ever happened to him.

(If Sanghoon loves him—if he thinks Yeonwol is good enough, then why is he still leaving? Why is he standing in front of Yeonwol right now, holding the older's face like he's fragile and someone to be cared for?

But of course, Yeonwol thinks bitterly, he already knows why.)

Yeonwol shakes his head, closes his eyes as Sanghoon tilts his chin. His heart hangs heavy in his chest, too heavy for his body to carry. He desperately wants to say yes, wants to feel Sanghoon one more time, but— "Don't do this to me," he breathes out, hands placing themselves on Sanghoon's face, trembling, hesitant like his heart. "You're... You're being so cruel right now, Sanghoon. If you kiss me then I—"

I won't be able to let you go.

@『 ✮ 』yeonwol moon。 Finally, finally, finally — Yeonwol looks at him, and despite the fact that it had been all Sanghoon wanted in this very moment, it doesn't bring the relief that he thought it would. His hands sting from the pressure of nails against his skin, but physical pain is paltry compared to the pain of seeing Yeonwol's teary eyes avoid his gaze, the pain of hearing lies he believes are truth fall from his lips.

"Stop," he all but begs, "Hyung, stop it." He doesn't want to listen to this anymore, doesn't want to listen about how low Yeonwol thinks of himself, because he's spent the past years they've spent together as friends and as lovers trying to convince him otherwise. Sanghoon shows his adoration for the man he loves in the simplest ways — written compositions, little presents and gifts, physical touches every waking moment of his day — but even then, none of those seemed like they were enough. And perhaps that is what Sanghoon regrets the most — that he'd never been able to show Yeonwol that he thinks the world of his star, his nova stella.

To Yeonwol, the man in the mirror may seem broken — but Sanghoon had never once seen him as only broken. Yes, there were moments when he'd be cracking apart at the seams, but wasn't it his job as Yeonwol's lover to hold his hand and help him through it? Wasn't it his job to show him how loved he is, how much he is cared for, how he is so much more than a broken, insecure man?

If it had been his job, well. Sanghoon failed spectacularly.

"Please, stop it," he repeats himself, fighting back tears as he lets go of Yeonwol's hands — only to cup his cheeks, holding his gaze for as long as he can, because maybe — maybe this is the last time he'll ever be able to try and convince Yeonwol that he is so much more than what he thinks he is. "You know what love is, hyung. It's Eunsang-hyung. It's Hayan-noona. It's Joo. It's Hojoon-hyung. It's /me./ And I don't care if you think you're not good enough for me. I don't care if you think you're not enough, because that's a damn ing lie. I love you, you , so don't you dare stand there and tell me you're not good enough. Don't you /ing/ dare."

His cursing is probably a lot less threatening than he means for it to be, what with the tears streaming down his cheeks — but he can't leave Yeonwol this way. He can't leave Yeonwol without trying, at least one last time, to let him know that his insecurities are only in his head, that Sanghoon loves him despite everything he thinks he is.

(But not enough to stay, says a voice at the back of his mind. And maybe that's why he's not good enough for Yeonwol — because no matter what he says, there is nothing he can do to quell the raging notions trapped inside Yeonwol's mind, put there by people that he's hurt and that have hurt him.)

"I'm selfish," he admits, his voice going soft. "I know that the longer I speak to you like this, it just... it just hurts us both. But I'm selfish, so..." And with that, he tips Yeonwol's chin up with a hand, holding his gaze with a desperate plea in his eyes — a sad attempt at what is perhaps their final goodbye. "I want to kiss you, hyung. Before I go."

@『 ✮ 』sanghoon yoon。 Sanghoon really doesn't play fair.

When Sanghoon's hold on Yeonwol's hand tightens, Yeonwol decides to it and holds Sanghoon's hand back, just as tightly, if not more. His nails dig onto Sanghoon's skin, and it says more than his own lips ever can. He doesn't want Sanghoon to let go, doesn't want to let go of the person who might be the only one who has ever loved him for who he is. And he knows he himself isn't playing fair, because Sanghoon has never been at fault in the first place. His only mistake was to fall in love with Yeonwol.

The least Yeonwol can do is rid Sanghoon of that mistake, right?

With that resolve, Yeonwol takes a deep breath and turns to look at Sanghoon, eyes glinting with tears and a whirlpool of emotions he hasn't touched for so many years. "You," he starts with an exasperated breath, "shouldn't want me to look at you anymore." He gulps, eyes wandering everywhere but Sanghoon's face once more — because looking at the man Yeonwol has loved so, so much hurts right now. It hurts to look at Sanghoon and know that Yeonwol's losing everything he wants in his arms. "We both know /I/ am the one who's not good for you, not the other way around. And I'm not telling you this to pity me enough so you'd take your words back, but—"

He inhales sharply, and meets Sanghoon's eyes — desperately tries to keep their gazes in tact, but it's so, so difficult when all Yeonwol can see are tears and the face of his heartbreak and love all at once.

"—I'm telling you this so you know why we're—why I—I can't be for you," Yeonwol continues. He thinks, this is one of the rare moments where he's been nothing but completely honest to the man. Yeonwol means it when he loves Sanghoon, truly — with all his heart, all his being that aches to hold Sanghoon in his arms and never have to let go — but he doesn't know how to lay his heart completely in the open when there will always be the lingering fear in the back of his mind that like everything else in his life, this too will break.

(And it already has, hasn't it?)

"I'm not—I don't really know what you saw in me, really, when you told me you fell in love with me. I can't see what kind of person I am in your eyes, because I... I see someone else whenever I look in the mirror." His shoulders tremble, and he's crying in such an ugly manner but he doesn't care. "I wish I'm the person I think you loved me for, but I'm just an insecure man, Sanghoon. I'm an insecure man with too many flaws to be with someone as good as you. I don't know love when I see it, because I don't—" He pauses in his words, knows that he's rambling, but even his own words make him stop.

"Because everyone thinks I'm too broken for it," lingers at the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back down.

"Do us both a favor, Sanghoon. Spare us both the heartbreak, and let go of my hand." /Please don't/. "You'll find that you'll thank me for it. You're already breaking up with me, aren't you? You've done the first step. Finish it. Let go of my hand."

@『 ✮ 』yeonwol moon。 Yeonwol won't look at him.

Maybe that's such a little thing to shed tears over, but he can't help the way they prick at his eyes because Yeonwol won't look at him. He already knows that nothing he's saying is getting through, that no matter how hard he tries, no matter how many words fall from his lips, there is nothing he can do to quell the pain that he's brought on Yeonwol. Sanghoon only wants to look at him right now, to get him to /understand/, to get him to realize how much pain they're both in — not just Yeonwol himself. Because if he's being honest, this is the hardest ing thing that Sanghoon's ever had to do in his whole damn life, and he wishes there was a way to make this easier. He wishes that Yeonwol would just look at him, would just see him, would just understand him, and—

Oh.

Yeonwol is crying.

Immediately, the words trap themselves in his throat, and whatever dramatic speech was going to follow disappears from his mind entirely. All he wants to do is hug Yeonwol close, tell him that he's sorry, that he didn't mean it, that he would vow to love him as long as he's permitted, that he would never, ever, ever think of doing something as stupid as breaking up with the man he loves, but—

This is for the better, isn't it? (Is it?)

If it's for the better, then why is he hurting so much? Why are they both hurting so much?

Yeonwol's bitter laughter rings sharp in Sanghoon's ears, painful and grating when he's used to such a soft, melodious timbre, and this is a side of him that Sanghoon has never seen before, not to this extent. He's bitter, and angry, and hurt, and oh God, Sanghoon was the one that made him that way. It's Sanghoon's fault that this is happening — if he had just held his tongue, if he had just let Yeonwol take the lead, if he had just listened to anything and everything his lover had said, then—

Well, then what? It would have cost him his happiness. But as irrational as his thoughts are right now, Sanghoon thinks that maybe his happiness doesn't mean much, as long as he doesn't have to hear Yeonwol speak to him like this. As long as he never, ever has to listen to Yeonwol throw painful words at him through tears. As long as he never, ever has to beg for Yeonwol to just look at him, to just please understand, please, he isn't trying to be unfair, he just wants Yeonwol to know that this is hurting him too, that he loves him no matter what and that he just wants both of them to be better—

But none of those thoughts get past his lips. Instead, he squeezes Yeonwol's hands even tighter, heart thrumming, banging, pounding against his chest, begging to be let out of the confines of this heartbreak that he'd allowed himself to be caged into.

"I don't want to," he says, eyes shut tight, squeezing out the tears that just won't leave, and Sanghoon is a coward. He's a coward because he can't even do something as simple as break up with Yeonwol cleanly, painlessly — instead, he needs a long, painful spiel that brings no closure, only heartbreak — and what for? Why does he have to keep talking? Why, when he knows that it will only hurt them both in the end? "I'm scared that... that when I let go, you won't look at me anymore. Because you're not looking at me now, and I'm right in front of you, and God, you have no ing clue how hard this is, and I'm absolutely ing /terrified/ that I'll never get to see you again, and all our friends, the band, I—"

Ah, now he's the one crying, words cut off with a choked, painful sob. He can't even do this much right, can he?

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so ing sorry, hyung. I just... I wish things could have turned out differently. I wish I could be better for you, but— but I'm not. I'm just not."

@『 ✮ 』sanghoon yoon。 Yeonwol wonders if he tunes Sanghoon out enough, this entire scene may disappear from his life — gone, as though it never happened. But it is happening, and there is nothing he can do that can stop this from unravelling. He doesn't look at Sanghoon, no. He doesn't know if he wants to see Sanghoon's eyes the very moment they break each other's hands in an inevitable dance to a painful, disgusting tune that Yeonwol has started. He doesn't want to see Sanghoon's eyes change when they look at him, too unlike the way Sanghoon looked at him with adoration as though Yeonwol is beautiful, deep down, past the surface (and he still remembers how it feels, the very memory making his heart ache — because all this time, he feels — /knows/ — that he's underserving of such pure, genuine affection).

When Sanghoon takes Yeonwol's hand in his, it takes everything Yeonwol has not to pull away.

The words that fall from Sanghoon's lips do nothing to soothe his aching heart, on the verge of shattering once more from the barely glued together pieces. Over the years, Yeonwol would like to believe he has hardened his heart enough. Sanghoon's hand is supposed to be a source of comfort, one that has never failed to bring a sense of security to Yeonwol, who's unable to ground himself down — and yet all it does at this very moment is fill Yeonwol with fear.

So he tries not to hold onto Sanghoon, tries not to give into that warmth, because he refuses to let his last memory of Sanghoon's warmth be associated with fear.

He bites onto his trembling lower lip, and yet he cannot stop a tear from trickling down his cheek. The way Sanghoon holds his hand is cruel. The way Sanghoon declares his love once more is utterly cruel. And Yeonwol wants to run away so badly, and yet—

—and yet the only place he knows is Sanghoon's arms.

This is unfair, Yeonwol wants to say. Sanghoon can't say he loves Yeonwol and break his heart all the same. But he knows whose fault it is, really. It's Yeonwol's, like always. Like his last lover. Like his first. He has tried so hard to fix everything. He has tried so, /so/ hard and yet everything he seems to touch only seems to fall apart. He's grasped tightly to those he's wanted to keep by his side, even when he knows how much it'll hurt him in the end. He holds onto th em tightly because he /knows/ what it's like to lose — and yet he still manages to up anyway.

He forced himself to be blind to the fact that everything he's held so tightly only breaks under his fingers.

Losing control meant that he’s at the risk of getting hurt. Losing control meant that this is about to break the way every other ing thing in his life has done. Losing control meant that it’s happening again, that he’s about to lose a part of him again and no matter how much he tries to take back control, he just can’t.

His hands aren’t big enough. His heart isn’t /cold enough./

"You don't play fair, Sanghoon," Yeonwol finds himself saying, with a forced laugh, followed by a sharp inhale. His hand trembles in Sanghoon's hold. He doesn't know when the tears start falling exactly, when they begin falling softly. He wishes to be under the rain right now, because then he'd be able to hide how much his heart breaks upon the weight of this pain that he /knows/ he's inflicted.

"You can't... You can't hold my hand, tell me you love me, and—and do /this/," he says shakily, so unlike his usual self. It's too vulnerable. Too weak. Too pathetic. He'd laugh at himself if he could, but his tears replace anything that comes out of his lips. "If you're breaking up with me, then let go of my hand, Sanghoon. Say it like you mean it."

Those are the words that come out of Yeonwol's lips, yet not once has he ever met Sanghoon's gaze. Maybe he is a coward. He is a terrible ing coward, that only ends up hurting the people he loves. Maybe /this/ is what he deserves.

@『 ✮ 』yeonwol moon。 There's an awkward tension in the air, and Sanghoon thinks he hates it. Tension, awkwardness — these are things that he'd never once associated with his dearest friends, much less Yeonwol of all people — Yeonwol, who can never remember to bring a hair tie no matter how many times Sanghoon reminds him. Yeonwol, who can't even find his way back home without getting lost. Yeonwol, whose lips always taste faintly of lollipops and sweets — it's almost laughable to think that the Yeonwol he knows, the Yeonwol he's grown to love — it's like there's almost a completely different side of him, one that Sanghoon is unfamiliar with despite the years they'd spent together.

He wants to love that part of Yeonwol, too. But it's too much, for both of them — so much so that Sanghoon almost forgets the moments they'd spent getting lost in music they'd shared together, replaced by the moments where Yeonwol's pretty face would curl up in anger, in irritation, in jealousy. Sanghoon had never liked jealousy, never understood it — so why does the man he loves exhibit such an ugly temperament? He tries to understand, of course, but it hurts to think that maybe Yeonwol doesn't trust him, that he wants to keep him all to himself. Not once could Sanghoon ever have imagined that the older would turn out this way (toxic, manipulative — but those are words he'd never, ever use about Yeonwol), and he has to wonder, where did he go wrong? Did he not love Yeonwol enough? Was his love lacking, somehow?

He doesn't know the answer, but what he does know is this: this can't continue. This tiptoeing, this constant anticipation, this (fear, yet another word he doesn't want to use) apprehension of whether or not Yeonwol would control his time, take him away from the friends they'd both grown to love and care for, prevent him from being himself — no, Sanghoon knows that this can't go on. And even if it pains him, even if his heart threatens to crack within his chest, he knows this must be done. Not just for him, but for both of them.

Now, the problem lies in what the hell he's going to say. Yeonwol doesn't seem in the mood for small talk tonight. (Because he knows.)

Sheepishly, Sanghoon scratches the back of his neck with an awkward smile, as if waiting for his (soon to be ex) lover to say something. Anything. But Yeonwol does not speak, and it's up to Sanghoon to rip both of their hearts out of their chests — a terrible, terrible privilege that he had never wanted the honor of enforcing upon them. But if he wasn't going to do it, then who else was?

"Don't feel like talking, huh?" he chuckles, and the words simply don't want to leave his throat. "That's fine, I guess I'll have to do the talking for us. I mean... I think you know why I asked you to come up here. It's just that, I've been thinking that maybe... " Pause. Not right. "Well, you know that—" Nope. Again. "I think it's just right that we— " Absolutely not. "We've been together for so long, and— " Too rehearsed.

God, he can't even get this right. The hours he'd spent crafting this speech in front of the mirror have all gone to waste.

Sanghoon takes a deep breath, and he steps forward, collecting Yeonwol's hands in his.

"Hey, hyung," he begins. "You know I love you, right? You know that... that I've loved you practically since day one, and that being with you has made me the happiest I ever thought I could be. You know that everyday I've spent with you is almost better than the last, and you know that I love waking up to you and sleeping to you. You know that there's no one else in the world I love more than you. You /know/ that." Whether he's convincing himself, or whether he's convincing Yeonwol, he doesn't know.

"So I hope you know... that when I say this, it's not because I fell out of love with you. It's not because I hate you, or because I resent you — it's because I don't want to see you like this. I don't want you to see me like this, and I just want— I just want to be able to love you without worrying about upsetting you for some reason I'll never be able to understand. And I want you to be able to love me like that too."

He squeezes Yeonwol's hands in his, and ah, why does this have to be so hard? All he wants to do is to hold Yeonwol close, to repeat the mantra 'I love you' until it's burned into the very crevices of his brain, until Yeonwol never ever ever doubts him ever again. But he's tried that. It won't work.

"It hurts me to say this, hyung. You know it does. You know that this is the last thing I ever wanted, but we need this — we both do. We can't... we can't keep going like this, Yeonwol," he says, and if his eyes shine with desperation, with a plea for Yeonwol to understand that /he doesn't want this,/ then he doesn't say anything. All he wants is for Yeonwol to never, ever forget that Sanghoon loves him, through and through. Even if he's doing this. "I love you, but we can't keep doing this."

Deep breath. Let the words leave his lips.

"I'm breaking up with you."

@『 ✮ 』sanghoon yoon。 Yeonwol has always known this was coming.

Mistakes have littered their relationship like anyone else's — but Yeonwol /knows/ that even that will come to an end. Deep down, in the back of his mind, that thought has always lingered, gnawing on his thoughts even when he tried pushing it away, stomping on it. But it always manages to come back to haunt him, because like every good thing in his life, this will have to end. This will have to stop sooner or later, because that's just how it always has been with him. Like every other relationship he's had so far, Yeonwol knows that what he has with Sanghoon will reach its inevitable end — simply because the other person in this relationship is Moon Yeonwol.

And Moon Yeonwol doesn't know how to keep the good things in his life the way he should have.

The end only comes faster than he expected.

It hurts to hear Sanghoon's voice right now, especially when Yeonwol knows what he wants to say. Today is something that would have come regardless of how much longer Yeonwol prolonged it. BUt that doesn't lessen the pain that's starting to build inside his chest; the weight that's starting to hang heavy in his heart, almost as if getting crushed, held into a tight grasp.

So Yeonwol doesn't answer immediately, no. He's playing the same scene over and over again in his mind. The memories he's had with rain turning bitter as Sanghoon stands in front of him, still with that attempt to make everything a little better, because that's just how Sanghoon is. He's pure and optimistic and everything that Yeonwol can never be. Now that he thinks about it, perhaps they /are/ a bad match; maybe Sanghoon actually deserved someone... someone that isn't Yeonwol.

He only wonders when it started going wrong.

When has he started feeling as though he was about to lose Sanghoon to a man they both consider their friend? Was it when Yeonwol couldn't control his wits that he decided to act immaturely, to terrorize Sanghoon's time all to himself? Maybe it's all of it, signs spread out into very thinly disguised attempts of maintaining control.

He doesn't look at Sanghoon, doesn't answer, doesn't know what to say. He keeps his eyes half lidded as he tilts his head toward the sky, watching as the sky falls in the same gloomy aura that holds his heart.

@『 ✮ 』yeonwol moon。 It's raining tonight.

The sky seems to look down on Sanghoon with a chilly gaze, droplets of rainfall rolling off of his skin as he looks up into the ink of the evening. It's raining tonight, he thinks, and on a night like this — on a night that had once felt like forever ago, Sanghoon can only remember the chill of the New Year approaching. It had been raining then, too — a snippet of his memories that he wouldn't forget, simply because rain had been rare back in Korea then. Back then, Sanghoon had taken it as a blessing, a sign that perhaps, the sky was finally putting an end to the days he'd spent pining over a man that would surely never be his — a sign that perhaps, the two of them could only look forward to good things in the future.

But now, he realizes — the rain hadn't been a blessing. Maybe the rain had simply shed tears that night — tears for the heartbreak that they would be forced to endure in the coming year. It hadn't been a blessing, no — it had been a foreshadowing of Sanghoon's own tears, tears that even now, do not seem to ever go away.

He's really going to do this, isn't he?

The door to the rooftop opens, and that's answer enough.

Sanghoon almost doesn't want to turn around, doesn't want to face the man he loves, doesn't want to say a single word. All he wants is to shut his eyes tight and pretend like everything's okay between them, pretend as if this hasn't been weighing on his mind for months, pretend that his heart isn't heavy with this impossible task he's given himself. Denial, denial, denial. It's a bad habit of his — one that he thought he'd outgrown, but it only ever seems to appear at the worst times. And now, his so carefully prepared speech flies out the window, fear and anguish tearing at the depths of his chest as his fingers clench, and unclench.

Oh God, he doesn't want to do this.

But he can't look away forever — no, he needs to face Yeonwol eventually. And it takes a few breaths, a few moments of regaining what little composure he has left, before he turns to see the face of the man he loves. The man he'd spent the past year with, the man with eyes that shone like stars, the man whose path never seemed to show itself, the man whose melodies brought peace and solemnity to his ears, the man who held his heart in his palms so carefully —

Yeonwol. Yeonwol, Yeonwol, Yeonwol. His star. His nova stella.

"Hi, hyung," he all but whispers, and his voice is weak. If he's being honest, he's surprised he has it in himself to speak at all. It's like a reflex of his, to smile — and so even when it feels like his heart is cracking, his thoughts jumbled up in a mess of anger and desperation and heartache, he smiles. "It's raining again," he begins, a grin that seems far too wide plastered upon his visage. Even now, he can only pretend, he can only deny — deny that he's going to break both their hearts, deny that things will change between them forever. "I forgot my umbrella. Silly me, huh?"