fight

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[ 6.5k words, can't wait to read everyone's thoughts! ]

If Hongjoong was being honest, he wasn't sure why he treated the boy with such care.

Like, he would never treat him the way that douchebag did, would never even consider it.

But Hongjoong couldn't deny that there was a level of care and intimacy he would give to that boy that he wouldn't give to any other person he met at a club for a hook-up agreement.

He supposed it could be that they'd met up about a half dozen times now.

Maybe that meant something.

But Hongjoong was pretty sure it mostly stemmed from the fact the boy reminded him so much of Seonghwa.

It was starting to haunt him.

There had been so many times where the boy had done something that reflected Seonghwa and it was starting to bother him – especially after he'd seen the boy cry.

He just wanted to fix it.

He would've done anything to stop it, and realizing that was strange because he wasn't supposed to feel that way about a stranger.

Hongjoong decided that there was a line somewhere and he had probably crossed it a long time ago.

He stared down at the open chat in his hands.

They hadn't met up in a couple of days, which was probably for the best with the stages they'd had to do, and good god was Hongjoong tired.

But the chat still remained there.

Waiting.

Beckoning.

And Hongjoong was wondering if he should delete the whole app and be done with it.

Two things were keeping him from doing it.

The first being simply that Hongjoong didn't want to.

He wanted to meet the boy again.

He wanted to have sex with him again.

And even if that wasn't a good enough reason, Hongjoong still couldn't delete the app because imagining the boy trying to contact him and being upset at finding that he couldn't, maybe even hurt, had something uncomfortable tightening in Hongjoong's gut.

Hongjoong locked his phone and dropped it beside him with a sigh.

He was being selfish.

He knew it.

But, in what other universe could he have such an almost and –

It's not Seonghwa.

He had to remind himself.

It wasn't him.

It was an act, a fake.

It wasn't an almost, it was an illusion.

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