TOMORROW X TOGETHER: short fictional stories by yours truly.
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction unless otherwise indicated. All the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author'...
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And here they were. Yeonjun was lying on the bed with a small sobbing boy on top of him. His fingers were wrapped around his tiny frame, the younger's soft hiccups echoing around the room. Yeonjun stared blankly at the ceiling, his mind wandering off to the messy event that happened just a few minutes ago.
It all happened too fast. They were just having a drink, Beomgyu and Yeonjun were laughing and exchanging stories they wanted to share. Then in a blink of an eye, it went from one bottle to two to three. Beomgyu was getting drunk, way too fast than Yeonjun expected. He was still sober enough to realize that Beomgyu needed to go home.
"Is it that hard to like me, hyung?" the younger lets out a low chuckle, his gaze fixated on the empty glass around his fingers. Yeonjun furrowed his brows, "What?"
Beomgyu pouted his lips and looked at Yeonjun, "What does he have that I don't?" he asked another question, his voice desperate—eyes glossy while staring at the elder who still had his brows furrowed. A long silence came right after, Beomgyu was waiting, but his temper was short for a drunk boy, "Why won't you answer?"
Yeonjun sighed, "Beom, let's not—"
"Why the fuck can't you just tell me that you don't like me?" Beomgyu's voice raised, he stood up and looked down at Yeonjun. His fists were clenched, his lips were pursed as he tried to hold his tears back. "Don't give me a reason like you don't want to hurt me because that's bullshit!" Beomgyu yelled, Yeonjun didn't even know what to say—his words got stuck in his throat, they were itching to come out, but no, he couldn't even utter a single word.
And again, everything happened so fast.
Now, all Yeonjun did was to sit there as he witnessed how Beomgyu walked to his guitar, grabbed it, and smashed it against the floor of Yeonjun's apartment.
All Yeonjun could hear was the sound of Beomgyu's guitar being broken to pieces, the boy's painfully stated words like "I'm so sick of writing you songs!" as he smashed the guitar, "I'm so sick of seeing my guitar be covered by my tears that you brought!" he said before finally throwing his guitar to the side, his chest going up and down as he inhaled and exhaled deep breaths.
Yeonjun stood up with wobbly legs, his hands finding their way around the little one's waist, Beomgyu tried to escape from his hold but the elder only pulled him closer, his lips brushing against the nape of Beomgyu's neck. The younger felt his warm breath, Beomgyu deemed as if Yeonjun, whom he's loved for years, was now with him in one world. He managed to calm down, finally falling into Yeonjun's embrace.
And now, here they were, lying on Yeonjun's bed with Beomgyu still softly crying around his warm hold. This was the closest they have ever been, for six years, Beomgyu finally felt the elder's warmth brushing against his skin.
For the past hours, Yeonjun had said nothing. Not even a sigh. He was just there, quietly listening to Beomgyu's sobs, silently caressing the back of Beomgyu's head, secretly hoping that Beomgyu would realize everything even if he won't say it.
"Hyung, you'll never like me, won't you?" Beomgyu asked, voice a little muffled, his hands softly holding Yeonjun's hand that was caressing the back of his head causing Yeonjun to stop and look at him. "Hyung, please answer me," and now, the younger was begging—desperate to know the answers to his questions, even though he already knows everything there is to know. But still, until he gets an answer from the elder himself, the twinkling hope in his eyes will never fade.
"Beom..." the elder heaved a sigh, "... all I can say right now is sorry, I'm really sorry," Yeonjun pursed his lips as he felt his tears starting to betray him. There was silence after that, Beomgyu had already stopped sobbing, and Yeonjun looked at the ceiling again.
The elder wasn't dense, heck, perhaps he was the first one to realize Beomgyu's feelings before the younger could even notice. It was the day when he saw the younger's eyes glisten differently, the way his lips would curve into a bright smile every time he saw him, and that night when he saw the pieces of papers that had Beomgyu's songs written on them; songs that reflected his feelings, songs that were for no one else but him.
Beomgyu, for the past six years, did nothing else but to love and hope. He fell in love the moment he heard the elder sing, he fell in love when he saw Yeonjun's smile, he fell in love with his hyung's existence that gave off warmth.
However, he knew Yeonjun was too far for his reach, too perfect for him to touch, too amazing for him to have. To him, Yeonjun was like a snowflake dancing its way down amidst a winter night, and before he can even catch it—the snowflake already faded into nothing. One can never touch a snowflake, they were just there—dancing so beautifully during winter, they were only there for everyone to watch, for everyone to be captivated, but no one will ever get to touch them—never get to hold such beauty.
"Okay," Beomgyu mumbled, his heart ached, his tears still flowing nonstop.
All he ever wanted was for Yeonjun to look at him the same way he did. He wanted Yeonjun's eyes to stare at him as if he were his entire world. He wanted Yeonjun to hold his hand and bring him closer to his own universe. He wanted something to change between them.
A change in Yeonjun's platonic feelings.
A change in Yeonjun's heartbeat whenever he'd see him.
However, Yeonjun never felt any of those changes.
Not once.
"I understand," Beomgyu nodded, raising his head a little and taking a quick glance at the elder. Again, his heart ached—much more than before, yet still enough for him to bear. It was for Yeonjun, he can handle it. He can just mend his own heart then look at Yeonjun with the same glistening eyes again.
Because even if Yeonjun, whom he's loved for years, would be nothing more but a fleeting snowflake to him, he would still love him. Even if Yeonjun would stay as nothing more but a desire that Beomgyu will never have, he would still hope.
Yet, the teardrops that were carved on his now broken guitar would resemble nothing else but his unrequited love that went on for six years and will still go on... even after tonight.
