BOY SCOUT. － s.yh + j.jh

10: entry forty-five

Yoonoh supposed that things would get better on their own, as long as he didn't do anything foolish enough to worsen them. The days following Youngho's birthday were strangely cold, in a way. The older seemed to be asking for more space between them and Yoonoh couldn't understand whether he himself was disgusting or if he were merely an annoyance that made things even more of a pain with all the hand-holding and kisses.

When February the 14th rolled up, his own birthday, he was anxious. His mother insisted on organising a small get-together to celebrate the occasion, even though he knew no one from school would come and his fellow scout members would most likely only show up out of pity. Despite that, what plagued his mind more than anything, was the question of whether or not Youngho would attend.

It wasn't that he was avoiding him, but considering how the last birthday had ended he doubted if Youngho would still be willing to relive a similar event.

The night of the party, the majority of his scout mates arrived at his door, some bringing small, personal gifts and others giving gifts they bought as a group. He had to admit, it made him feel relatively special to have a number of people coming to celebrate his birthday with him, and he was truly grateful for the fun he began to have once he got gradually more comfortable being the centre of attention.

The peak of the party was, however, when Youngho finally arrived, an hour late despite living nearby and dressed in a graphic printed hoodie and torn jeans, carrying his skateboard and a present in hand. Yoonoh hadn't even bothered to check what it was though, utterly thrilled by the mere face of his senior and running up to him, engulfing the waist he securely held close.

"Thank you for coming," he mumbled into the felted material, words muffled but still distinctive.

Momentarily the other was stiff, then his body tipped so as to drop his board down and a large hand apprehensively lifted, settling atop the shorter's fluffed hair.

"Of course I'd come to my friend's birthday, I'm not that bad of a guy."

Yoonoh's face rubbed against his chest and initially Youngho had believed he was burrowing affectionately deeper, an action he found himself having longed for ever since he began to put some space between them; but the mild happiness he felt at the idea was soon crushed when he understood that the younger was merely shaking his head.

"You're not bad at all," the muffled words reached his ears over the playing music － somehow he could always pick out Yoonoh's voice amongst noise, "You're the best guy there is."

And then Youngho felt a jagged blade stab him, wriggle itself between his ribs, jostling the bones in their place. Guilt. If Yoonoh knew what kind of thoughts would sometimes cross the brunet's mind, if he knew that he was trying to sever their bond, would he still consider him to be such a nice guy? Youngho heavily doubted it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the shuffling against his body; the shorter had tilted his face upwards and set his chin onto Youngho's chest, right over his throbbing heart. He gazed up at him with glowing eyes in which Youngho could see the purity and care Yoonoh held for him, but also himself, who was selfish and careless.

"You okay, Johnny?"

The boy apprehensively nodded, stiff as though his joints were welded stuck.

Despite the dry response, Yoonoh was happy and beamed up at him in a way that only worsened the sensation that had spread along each of the older's veins.

The shorter hurriedly took hold of his bigger hand, the warmth he possessed seering Youngho's palm, but the latter was already being tugged towards the rest of the guests, Yoonoh spewing excited words about how much fun they would have.