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Hyunjin remembered that day. When he broke his own heart and someone else. And others too.
Yet he still choose to walk on that road, which still makes his feet bleed, but somehow had keep him company when his own shadow abandoned him for some time and refused to find the light. It's so wrong and it feels so right, it's a little too complex for his confiscated mind and bleak heart, this kind of dependency for someone who prefers to run when its dark, someone who calls every place as his home because any form of recognizance means an attachment, and he can't bear the thought of it—someone like him.
And he found himself tangled with the one he thought would definitely be an oil to his water.
Felix who always had been that person. Who shed the first tears over someone's scratched leg. Who can't stand any trivial argument and will always reach out first. The most important at all—who feels so much in that so little body that sometimes is also his self-made, cruelest monster—which made Hyunjin realized even if he couldn't understand it bodily, how Felix had always eerily mirrors him in a way he can't explain.
This day, Felix was on the brighter side of the mirrorball, the clearer side of the moon.
Hyunjin wanted to count each of his freckles and bottled that pearly smile of his. It was a familiar song on his heart he could recite as if he had sang it a thousand times before.
And just like any other habit they had shared, Hyunjin already prepared to shield his head over the water-war prolog—not when Felix stands there, looking at him like this is the only time they could finally loop closer to their not so play-pretend game.
Hyunjin wants their body to dance together under that heavy rain and being the first one to offer his hand. Those water, years and years, had flowed through him, making its own path through the stone that made the most of him. Now it stores flowers, moss, and everything else that actually wants to live.
And Felix, just like any other day, read him better than any other one could do—just like a song he keeps reciting and is still, being his most played song, even if he couldn't spell out the title. It's just there, lurking at the corner of the speaker while he was doing his routine—at the supermarket, at the studio, on his bed late at midnight. Just like the worn out page of his favorite book, waiting to be proclaimed once again after the long hours of practice. So familiar, so close yet so far, Hyunjin would do everything on his will to experience these transcending moment all over again.
Their forehead touched and Hyunjin could already feel the arrows coming from every direction: a knowing glance, a grimace, a surprised gasp, every other things Hyunjin could handle and couldn't yet.
But he just grinned, and it was his loudest one tonight, the one that sunk his eyes and crafted cute little wrinkles, the one that made him dizzy out of drunken excitement.
A flower stemmed inside his vein, a lullaby written by Felix and all the minuscule things around him.
And for now, maybe this will do.