Archive of Our Own

Volcanoes eruptions can be predicted. Taerae breaking apart on the last day of the contract was quite predictable, too.

That's something one should be able to say, except it really is not that simple, isn't it?

Technology still advanced, though. Close enough to brag about it, maybe.

Scientists don't have to risk their lives by climbing on an active volcano to take measurement anymore, just like there is no need for anyone to take a knife and open Taerae’s chest to see the faces of everyone he ever loved sculpted in his heart, or even drill into his skull to check whenever he showed heightened activity in his frontal lobe due to his anxiety spiking.

Thank God any of these options aren't required, at this point and time in history. Not that Taerae would mind someone doing that to him– for him. Getting close to him with no gloves on, cutting his brain or chest open and risking their lives to see whatever they could, before all the lava (or blood) spilled out and emptied whatever was left of Taerae. A volcano, a human or a robot– whatever they wanted to see him as. It sounds much faster and easier than being the one to open up, to talk about his feelings. And it felt much more sexy, too.

Whatever, fuck.

The point is: there are machines now that can do the job without humans climbing up. Seismographs that can register magnitude, escalation, and epicenters of earthquakes that occur as magma moves beneath volcanoes. Sensitive tiltmeters and surveying instruments that allow three-dimensional mapping of what's occurring underground, measuring and recording the slightest changes.

It's a lot of fancy words and cool progress in the technology department, but most of it would still not be as useful if one didn't have a thorough understanding of a volcano's eruptive history, nor if they didn't continuously monitor and adequately interpret data coming from that equipment.

You could put a truth device on Taerae, one of the cool ones that he saw in spy movies on television while eating dinner with his parents back in middle school, but the result would be pretty much meaningless. You could get what you want, sure, but not the reason, not how he got there, and for sure, not the correct interpretation of who he is .

What's truly useful for scientists is the repetition of patterns.

Or, well, it would be, if there was enough data and it wasn't constantly changing.

Volcanoes had been around for billions of years, studies for them had been around for much, much less– not nearly enough. Few of them even maintain the same behavior for long (more often than not, as soon as a repetitive pattern becomes apparent, the volcano changes behavior).

Taerae has known himself for twenty-three years, had studied himself to almost the point of insanity for the better half of it, and still wouldn't be able to tell you most answers about himself.

How would Matthew, who has known him for a little more than three, be that better off?

Nevertheless, volcanic eruptions can still be forecasted, at least to a certain degree.

Some scientists think that the buildup preceding a catastrophic eruption would be detectable for weeks and perhaps months to years (in reality though, it all waters down to probabilities: they can never be sure how severe a predicted eruption will be or, for that matter, whether it will even break the surface).

Taerae believes that anyone who has studied him for long enough could've predicted his breakdown to happen, just not when exactly.

Most definitely, not the night after their fucking goodbye concert and last day of the contract.

Not when the members are almost packing bags and ready to move, while Taerae just stands at the doorstep, observing them as the reality of things sinks inside of him; first slowly then hits him all at once. Not after he politely greeted Gunwook’s and Yujin’s parents and they hugged him tight, thanking him for taking care of their kids when they were too far away to do so. 

(Taerae couldn't bear the suffocating amount of love and tears about to spill over in their apartment anymore, so he just walked away.)

He could've moved out like the rest of the group. He could've ended his contract in that tentative meeting months ago, or at the re-attempt at negotiation just a couple of weeks before today. 

He didn't. “I'm still considering”, is all Taerae was able to say back then. His contract has always been under WakeOne, before and during group activities, and it would be a little longer.

“I will figure it out when the time comes”, he repeated every time, with what he hoped was a convincing smile whenever any of the members asked him what he was going to do. 

Taerae, who can't even begin to leave for a trip without planning everything weeks prior to the date, yet can't even do something to get a definitive answer for his future. This is not him. It has never been him. He doesn't really know how being in Zerobaseone affected him that much.

At the end the group, like everyone already predicted, fell apart.

All the members were leaving. Taerae remains under WakeOne. Matthew is leaving.

Taerae hadn't done much of anything to change any of it.

He could run into the others in the street, maybe. Most of them are going to stay in Seoul, more or less. Matthew was not.

Matthew stays in his room, packing his last items before he leaves the country at six in the morning. The preparation for the last fancon was so intense that the members barely got any time at all to pack.

He's is gently wrapping the dog figure (Brew) that Taerae convinced him to buy in Japan and that Matthew stupidly, sweetly, kept in front of his monitor for a year and half, refusing to ship him away immediately with his other packages.

(“Taerae-ya, I'm supposed to save money. We both are! And I don't even have space in my room anymore! You're such a bad influence.”

“I'm just saying! If you buy a figure I'll buy a one too.”

Matthew glares at him with a frown, but his eyes dart to the side, noticing a couple of blind boxes with the images of cats holding mugs.

“Wait, oh my God– that looks just like you!”

Taerae turns his head and grunts, rolling his eyes.

“How would that even look like me? I'm not even a cat! At least I think. Everyone says I'm a duck.”

“That doesn't matter!” Matthew takes his arm and walks him closer to the figures. “See their big eyes? Begging for pats and attention? That's you.”

The painting is a little off, the quality is questionable, and Taerae thinks the eyes look rather soulless and creepy than cute. Matthew just seems like all the stars in the universe have been taken to be put in his eyes, as if they're the best thing he's ever seen, and not cheap mass produced pieces.

It's just his normal reaction for anything collectible, but for a second, Taerae feels his heartbeat skip like it could be mean more.

“Oh yeah? Then you just look like that puppy!”

Taerae points at the other blind boxes next to it, where a bunch of dogs praying are inside, in similar cheap quality.

It's not even really a comeback– it’s quite rare Taerae gets so frustrated to actually losing to Matthew. 

The puppies are still cute, though.

“Mh. I guess I should get that one then.” 

“Just one? We came all the way here and you're just getting one figure? You should get both.”

Matthew grins like he just won the lottery.

“Woah Kim Taerae~ You must like being called a cute cat."

Taerae barely stops himself from hitting Matthew’s arm right in the middle of the store, in front of all the customers walking around them. Probably not the best look on an idol.

“Something is wrong with you.

I'm getting my cars. You get whatever.”)

When they came back to Korea, Taerae was given the cat one– Snowflake. Matthew joked that they were sharing custody of the pets they got together.

The cat is still in Taerae’s room, sitting next to the duck keycap he has used once and then was afraid of ruining. They're hidden where Matthew can't see it, away from his own feelings, just like another coward move Taerae has done in his career.

Matthew will continue his career in Japan and he's bringing Brew with him, leaving Snowflake behind. It's a little sentimental that the puppy figure is going back home, but seeing it gone feels almost like the final blow for Taerae.

Matthew talked about them, posted them on plus chat, asked zeroses to pick a name for them, then gave one of them to Taerae (and packed like a gift, as if it wasn’t something they bought together). He put so much care on something so trivial, acting like they were his own children, only to separate the two of them at the end.

Building his career in Japan is a choice that Taerae fully supported since Matthew told him about it (the public just adores him, plus he constantly works and studies Japanese to get better, he will do wonderfully over there, Taerae knows that), and swears that he still supports it, but clearly hasn't fully digested until now.

He can feel the clock finish ticking, their time together coming to an end, Taerae not being able to see Matthew again after just twelve hours.

The volcano inside of him erupts.

There were signs. There are always signs, from shortly before or even up to months earlier– the magma still needs at least a little amount of time to build up and up until it forces its way to the surface. It's all about noticing the little hints making the right guess for the timing.

Taerae's feelings are just the same.

It wasn't his first break out, nor the first time his heart was seen bleeding by civilians that happened to live nearby. But the past ones were weaker, forecasted and through a smaller vent onto Earth's surface: a song, or maybe two.

Somehow, neither of them created particular damage for anyone: they were nothing but fumes and gas (though when he was writing them, Taerae felt like he was the one dying. A volcano hurting itself, what an odd idea).

The earthquakes that preceded them were caused by simple, plain events: a smile in the sunset, and a hug after a fight on a stage for thousands of people to see.

One sure isn't like the other, but whatever; these were the reasons why things started moving inside of him. Why his feelings built up and up and up until days or months later the only available vent for them to come out was through a song. It wasn't even the first time this happened: Taerae did something similar for a classmate in high school too. Music seemed the only way for anything to get processed and latched out of him in the most honest and raw way he knows.

The research was easy. You didn't even need any advanced technology to figure Taerae out. 

Matthew smiled at him, and Gyuvin hugged him. There was nothing more or less.

The two of them unlike Taerae, are not volcanoes ready to erupt any day, unpredictable and dangerous. Quite the opposite, actually: they're transparent and outspoken with their feelings and emotions; they never kept anything inside of them as far as Taerae was aware.

Matthew and Gyuvin were honest with their love and no matter how much Taerae tried to push them away, they always came back to sit next to him: to listen, support, and love him back just as much.

Taerae has never been like that.

He never learnt how to, never unlocked the skill necessary in the game; the one that everyone seemed to have, and the one Matthew and Gyuvin maxed to the highest level. Their love is crystal clear like water, transparent and fundamentally good.

Taerae’s feelings, on the other side, are nothing but fire inside of him: gratitude, affection, love, guilt, remorse, anxiety and pride all turned into a single mass of magma he tries to always shove back down to not hurt anyone until eventually, he can't push them anymore, and they come to the surface through an unforgiving explosion.

Eruption is the only way Taerae has ever known to let his feelings out, and it always will be.

He thinks it started in Jeju Island, for Matthew.

Or maybe earlier, when he was still adjusting to all these people he was not yet close with, mourning the ones he lost in the process, and Matthew just told him that they should be comfortable as same aged friends, holding his hands through every one of their first days.

But right there on that beach, Taerae just knew the patterns suddenly changed and the magma started to move, that his feelings threatened to arise exactly when they weren't supposed to. Matthew smiled at him, unashamed and alive, and the first earthquake found its victim– Taerae himself. It was a lot of emotions yet on the surface it looked like it was what seemed like nothing at all.

Taerae went back in his car, reached the dorms and finally his room. He closed the door, hoping that Hanbin would be too busy, and sat there in the dark.

He looked inside of himself, away from cameras and prying eyes, and realized that the first step was in motion. Taerae was going to erupt.

And as he forecasted, he did. To be precise, on December 12th 2023.

It was easy. Matthew was everything he wasn't. He was in touch with his emotions, relaxed, aware of his feelings and how to approach them. He wasn't scared of any new ones either, but when he was, he usually talked them out with Taerae, late at night, just the two of them. Matthew confided in him, opening up about his fears and worries in ways Taerae was able to do only much, much later on.

It wasn't like it took Taerae that long, considering he has been alive for well, much longer, but somehow he still feels guilty that he tried to not get attached and lost all the precious time he could've had with his members. Remorse ate him like a worm in his intestine, far deeper than he thought a twenty four year old should be able to feel.

He doesn't have any time left.

He can't go back to change anything.

When Taerae enters his room without even knocking and walks straight to the bed to flop there refusing to even say hi, Matthew only chuckles, not kicking him out.

“Were Gunwookie and Yujinnie's' families' love too overwhelming for you to handle?”

Taerae rolls his eyes and blindly grabs the only Thewnini left in the room, hugging it close to his chest.

“You know about it.”

Matthew smiles fondly as he folds his shirt, and Taerae can't seem to bring his eyes to look away from the suitcases on the ground (white, filled with Pokémon stickers to make it recognisable, some of them gifted by Taerae himself). 

“I greeted them at lunch. Gunwook already shed all his tears yesterday, but his mom was the one crying today. At least we know where he got it from.”

“She’s still crying.” 

Taerae mumbles. He's not seriously complaining of course, he just doesn't know how else to cope but with a little joke here and there.

Matthew gives him a knowing smile before turning back.

It's a little quiet after that. The two of them don't really sit in silence for too long, though it's not completely unfamiliar nor uncomfortable.

Taerae turns on the phone to open and then close the Naver search on volcanoes. Gunwook and the damn links he sends at two in the morning, too curious about the world to be able to rest. On the opposite side, reading about natural phenomena doesn't seem to really help Taerae’s unsteadiness, not at all.

And there is the whole reminder in his mind (and in front of him) to stop wasting any more time, too. Taerae can't keep any more words for himself, and he frankly doesn't even want to.

“Matthew-ya, can I ask you something?”

“It’s not really like you to not get directly to the point but sure, shoot.” 

Taerae rolls his eyes, though he doesn't really have a comeback to that.

His palms feel sweaty, and he tries to dry them on his pants. It barely works, and he hisses in frustration before speaking again.

“I still… I don't really know if going solo is the right choice.”

He looks down on his lap, and then to the window. Anywhere but at Matthew.

“Am I even worth enough for the company to keep me around?”

He can almost feel the frown on Matthew’s face. He doesn't even have to turn away to confirm it.

“You're their star, Taerae-ya. You will do much better than you can ever imagine.”

Matthew says slowly, but with conviction. It's not overpowering, nor overwhelming.

Nothing that Matthew does has that intention, but it also always feels like that for Taerae. He usually says the most devastating things like they're universal truths, and not life changing bombs.

“You have grown so much, both in talent and in fanbase: they all love and adore you.”

I don't care.

It’s an illogical, stupid thought. It’s not Taerae. The patterns of the volcano movements suddenly change again.

He cares, he cares probably a bit too much about being loved, about singing. That is why he hasn't given up yet, why he hasn't been able to move on.

The thought of his career getting dented by an even worse company was too terrifying. Change is a notion that he refused to dwell on, and that has now come to hit him at full speed, leaving him breathless and in panic.

I don't need them to love me. The only one I need is you.

That's even a worse thought. It's gross and definitely an exaggeration. Probably. But is it really that much of a lie? 

It doesn't really matter. Taerae won't say these words. He never has, not seriously at least, not without masking them as a joke, and he doesn't know if he ever will.

Hanbin had tried to predict when the eruption was going to be. When the word love, in a serious and honest tone, would finally come out of Taerae’s mouth. He had tried to gently push it, to somehow control the explosion before the magma grew too big, before it would inevitably hurt him.

It was useless. No one can really stop a volcano from erupting, at most you can just try to warn as many people as you can before their lives get inevitably destroyed.

Hanbin thought, he hoped, that Taerae would give up sometime before the first year. Zhang Hao patiently and lovingly nudged him, waiting for an answer from the source. Gunwook tried to talk to him one too many times, but Taerae always refused to listen. Jiwoong and Gyuvin told him they would be there, when he inevitably would not be fine. Yujin knocked on his door and offered some food, trying to delay the inevitable, and show that he cared.

(It was on Matthew’s doorstep, when the words spilled. It has always been because of Matthew: the first time and the last.

He spent the last few days there, helping him package all his figures. Taerae was the one that would understand the most how much care it went in handling them, beside Matthew; plus he had the experience of moving out with his figures too.

Actually, Taerae might have been even more careful than Matthew himself, who spent the whole time complaining about how “Collecting is all fun and games until you have to move”.

Matthew’s room is bigger than Taerae’s, but it always felt the same size or smaller because of how cramped it was. Taerae saw the real size again little by little, as the walls became emptier. He’s glad he saw the process, or it would've been just the last nail in the coffin if he just walked there on the last day and realized how much of Matthew was gone.)

“You won't need me anymore.”

Matthew remarks as a joke, when Taerae doesn't reply. It's meant to lighten up the mood, to attempt at their usual banter one more time. Taerae teases and teases and teases again, Matthew acts sulky, Taerae immediately backtracks and holds his hands, or the other way around.

It doesn't work this time, though: neither of them are really smiling and Taerae isn't used to the sight of Matthew’s face not illuminating the whole room. He frowns at the weak attempt from the latter.

“Don't say that.”

Taerae is still a coward. He won't say it. He won't, he won't. But his mouth is still trembling, the words are threatening to come out, and Taerae doesn't know for how long he can shove the eruption back. His feelings are probably already spilling without him even realising it.

Matthew turns back and looks at him.

He must have realized it by now: the patterns changing, an earthquake starting, and the floor shaking under their feet. Matthew’s face changes with it.

“Say what?”

The suitcases are done and packed, boxes already shipped days ago, the room almost empty as if no one lived there in the first place. As if Matthew has never lived there at all, or as if Taerae hadn't spent days and nights there talking, playing games, teaching him the bass.

Matthew is just fiddling with things to delay the inevitable, and Taerae is no different.

Seconds pass in silence as Taerae refuses to respond again, too afraid of what will come out, before Matthew looks up. He stares right at him and Taerae, of course, looks away.

Eye contact has always been the same thing for him: either too much, or nothing at all. Now it feels like too much, so he decides to have none.

The words won't come out, the sentences won't form in his head. It's infuriating; Taerae always has something to say, one way or the other. When it matters the most, he stays quiet.

Come to think of it, when Gyuvin hugged him for two minutes on the stage, he hadn't spoken a word either. He was able only when he turned every emotion he felt through a song, no less than a month later.

“What do you want to tell me, Taerae-ya?” 

Matthew gets closer, taking the hand that Taerae put in his hair out of frustration.

Taerae wants to hide and shrink and become an invisible particle in the bed, or maybe fall in the suitcase, and leave with Matthew and never come back. God. 

Taerae interlocks their fingers anyway. He always does.

With his other hand, he's still holding the Thewnini plushie Matthew hasn't packed, the one he wants to bring with him on the plane. Taerae holds on both like a lifeline.

“Don't go.” 

Taerae finally bursts out, though more in a whisper, with his gaze still turned away.

It's not I love you.

It's as close as he can get.

He wants to say more, he doesn't want to say anything at all.

Matthew doesn't reply. The clock keeps ticking, and Taerae thinks he's done for. He wants to explain, to backtrack, or even worse, keep pushing until everything spills out. He doesn't.

“Taerae-ya…” 

Taerae dares to flicker his eyes back on Matthew for a second, but he regrets it immediately. There is… something there.

Sadness. Guilt. And something else he doesn't recognise.

Things he had barely seen in Matthew’s face in those years together, and that they make his stomach twist and turn in pain. Taerae can't decipher the third thing, and he doesn't know if it's because his brain is too much of a mess to do so, or if he refuses to think about it.

It doesn't really matter, the only one that can say anything at this point is Matthew.

It would've been easier to have his own heart cut open, he mourns belatedly. Maybe he should take the blade with his own hands.

“You're all leaving. Every single one of you is leaving me behind. You all made so many sweet promises about staying together and even when I refused to be anything more than colleagues with any of you, I could do nothing but fall for it. None of them were fulfilled.” 

It's not what he wants to say. His mouth never works in his favor, too used as he is to deflect. His intention is not to blame Matthew or any of them, and he really does not blame them for how it ended.

Taerae knew the ending of their story from the very beginning, and he has clearly not tried to prevent it enough from happening, or tried to rewrite a completely different conclusion.

He feels Matthew’s other hand comes to his cheek, and only then does Taerae realize it's wet.

“Can't you stay?” 

Matthew makes another face but Taerae, once again, can't really recognise it. He wishes he had more time to study the other, to learn everything about him, to hold him down and stare until there is not a single centimeter of skin and heart he's not aware of. He blames himself for refusing to do it earlier.

Taerae thought he should've kept everyone at an arm's distance to not feel hurt when they'd leave him. It turned out that he wasn't able to prevent any of it from happening anyway at all.

He was always going to fall for Matthew. Acting like he wasn't didn’t stop his feelings from developing.

“Taerae– you know I'm leaving tomorrow.”

His voice is not hard or bitter. It should've been, for all Taerae believes he deserves. It's a whisper, almost as a secret and it's… broken.

It's a door that can be opened both ways, and Taerae is not sure what awaits him on the other side, which is why he never opened it, or why it only took him three years to build the courage, or more correctly, the desperation to do so.

There are a lot of things he can't stand, or that he's afraid of. Not knowing is easily one of the top three.

The inability to read what goes through other people's minds, not knowing if they like him as much as he likes them, is probably the reason his walls have never come down except for a few, very difficult times. 

But at this point the patterns have changed, the earthquake started, and the magma burnt every fence and door he worked so hard to build, leaving everything exposed, vulnerable and naked to the eyes.

“Stay anyway. Don't go.”

He repeats, like an abandoned child refusing to let go of the only hand holding him.

“I don't get why you're asking me this right now.”

Matthew’s voice is barely above a whisper, almost on the verge of completely breaking. Taerae feels sick to the stomach at his own actions.

“I don't understand why you're changing your mind about it, when you were the first one that pushed me to follow this path. Please explain it to me, Taerae-ya.”

Everything inside of him burns and he doesn't know how Matthew can't feel it, how he's not running away from the incoming fire. Or maybe he knows, and he decided to stay anyway. It's probably why it has always been him, the one that Taerae would end up erupting in for.

There is no backtracking anymore, no time for any warning: if Matthew wants to walk over the edge of the volcano, Taerae can't do anything to stop himself from killing them both.

“It’s because I love you.”

The hand that was wiping his tears comes to a halt.

When they were still roommates and Hanbin just started studying psychology, he tried to tell Taerae a little bit about it.

Taerae never fully got the whole thing, but he guesses that the discipline was why Hanbin had such a particular interest in finding out how the Taerae Problem worked (of course, he is way too nice to put it that way, but it's kind of how it felt sometimes– it was mostly funny, though).

Hanbin tried to be subtle about it but Taerae had already read online of fans that wanted to pry his head open to study what was going on up there, so it was quite easy to notice. It’s not like he was ever against it anyway, he would do the same with his brain if he could, but that’s beside the point.

One of the few things Taerae remembers from the nights Hanbin stayed up repeating until late is that there are quite a lot of schools of thought in psychology. Who would've imagined that dissecting the human brain was too difficult to even compromise on the method to do it?

There was biological, behaviourist, cognitive, social, psychoanalytic, and probably more that he forgot. The one he remembers the most, like probably the majority of people, is the behaviourist one with the Pavlov’s dog experiment or alternatively, applied to his situation, Matthew opening his heart for Taerae once, and then again and again and again and again, until Taerae’s chest starts burning at the simple vicinity of the other.

The whole volcano metaphor is probably bullshit. He still wants to cling on it, but Taerae is not an opening in the earth's crust, and no lava will ever come out of him. He’s not a natural phenomenon, or a dog or a robot for that matter– even though in the past, while laying down on his bed in the dark, he might have thought he was just born as emotionless as one. It just had always been much easier to think about himself as anything but a human.

Volcanoes are actually quite unpredictable: the patterns could change at any given moment, too fast to keep track of. Taerae thinks that the human brain tends to stay the same, more often than not. Change is not as easy as it seems, or at least, it never was for him. It took years to gain enough confidence in his performances and looks, but underneath all that, his emotional state barely varied.

One would only need to pay enough attention to him to predict most of his future moves. Being known that easily was terrifying, but it was still much better than being an unforecasted outburst.

Taerae had hoped Matthew had paid enough attention. He had hoped that his confession was nothing more than predictable, that his feelings and outburst were long expected. Maybe they came out a little later than it should've happened, but with the way things were going, with the complete silence Taerae had been in while everyone packed and said goodbyes, the build-up over the last few days or maybe since the finale of Boys Planet, it really wasn't supposed to be anything but a surprise.

He hopes it isn't.

By the look on Matthew's face, Taerae quickly has to come to terms with how wrong he is.

The urge to either shrink or run away comes back even stronger or maybe he could do something better, like backtrack by saying that it was all an elaborate, funny prank that didn’t go further than their flirty jokes .

He also sort of wishes that the one that would run away was Matthew. Or that maybe his best friend would turn it into a joke, and coo at him saying something like “Awww Taerae-ya, I love you too!”  pretending that none of it ever happened (though Taerae would be able to say that “At least I tried”).

None of that happens.

Matthew holds him down on the bed, refusing to let go. His hand isn't moving, but he's making sure Taerae won't move as well, that he won't try to run away. Matthew probably hadn't seen the confession coming, but he must have at least figured out what could follow (Taerae, running from his own emotions again, pretending that he just hasn't attempted to kill them both).

“Since when?” 

Matthew manages, after what probably were seconds but felt like decades. It's weak, barely a whisper, and raspy. Taerae looks up and sees tears running down Matthew’s face.

Without warning, he suddenly remembers the clip from one of Matthew’s live after their first tour in Seoul that Taerae casually stumbled on his feed a long time ago. Matthew was talking about their moment in Hello and how Taerae always said he liked it, so he started singing it for him. But Taerae always got kinda choked up and Matthew would follow, then added that when the day comes that Taerae will actually cry, Matthew thinks he'll cry too. How can he not know his feelings for him?

Taerae managed not to, at least that time. It was almost like a challenge, a bet that he refused to lose, not crying out of spite.

He realizes that Matthew didn't lie back then.

That itself shouldn't be surprising– Matthew never does. He's honest to a fault, to a degree Taerae doesn't really know how to handle.

He doesn't know how to deal with people crying either; he has never learnt how to. Taerae was the youngest in the family, the baby of the two, spoiled with a never ending amount of love and free to cry whenever he wanted to (which is something he shared with Matthew, though it seems one of them managed to accept love easier than the other).

“Don't ask me stupid stupid questions, Matthew-.”

It's the only thing that’s able to come out of his mouth. There is obviously no heat, just an awkward, regretful, faint smile.

“Since when?” 

Matthew keeps insisting, his gaze more steady than his voice.

Taerae doesn't really understand the question– why does it even matter? To mock him, to know for how long he has been a coward? (He would never do such a thing, but clearly Taerae’s mind has never been more unhelpful).

Matthew’s gaze still doesn't falter, so Taerae gives up once again. The cat is already out of the bag so there is no use putting it back inside, pretending it was never there in the first place.

“Since the very beginning.”

Matthew stills for a moment once again, eyes wide, before letting out a shaky breath.

He falls next to Taerae in the bed, his right hand not holding Taerae’s cheek anymore, but the left one stays intertwined with his, almost subconsciously. He isn't even looking at him anymore, instead he's staring at the ground.

Taerae doesn't really want to look at this face, to see his reaction and the inevitable rejection, but he doesn't know how to fill up the defying silence.

It was his first time confessing to anyone, and it ended just as he expected it to be.

“Why are you telling me now?”

The tears are still falling from his face, and even more than before. He's trying to hold them back but he seems desperate, his voice shaky .

Taerae doesn't like being the reason that all of this is happening. He wishes technology had advanced enough to be able to take a remote controller, go back in time, and prevent the whole conversation from ever happening at all– or maybe back before Boys Planet, and stop himself from feeling anything .

(It’s also not what he promised Matthew time ago either: to hold his hands and protect him. Taerae is doing the exact opposite, and he feels nauseous.)

“It doesn't really matter. You're leaving tomorrow, and we’ll forget about all of this. We'll just pretend it never happened, alright?”

Taerae wasn't really sure he could do it: after all, he has never been good at pretending much of anything. But he needed to at least try, to convince Matthew and himself and save whatever was saveable. Maybe he would need a little bit of time, but they’d be apart and not forced to stay together everyday, so that surely should be able to help.

“How could I even– How could I ever forget this?”

Matthew seems more distressed than Taerae has ever seen him. It's a lot, especially when he always seemed able to hold himself so calmly all the time.

Taerae is the one that exploded but Matthew is the one that purposefully stood so close, who always refused to let him erupt alone. Taerae’s own destruction pulled Matthew with him, making the other feel even worse than him.

He wishes he could yell “It's not me. I don't have any control over it!” but he always has, hasn't he? If only he gradually let things out. If only he allowed his feelings to come out in the open much earlier.

If only, if only.

His stomach twists uncomfortably once again.

“You'll move on. You never needed me, Matthew-ya. It has always been the other way around.” Taerae tries to smile, but the words come out bitter than he expects. His heart is compressing on itself, painfully aching as it turns smaller and smaller, destroying everything within. He wonders how it has not yet bursted apart, fragments piercing through all of his organs.

“You are wrong.”

Matthew refuses to meet his gaze, but Taerae suddenly feels like he can't let go of it. He grips on the plushie even tighter, eyes going wide.

“What do you mean?”

“I always thought I liked you more than you ever liked me.”

A beat, before Taerae sees regret immediately painting Matthew’s face, before the latter snaps his head to finally look at Taerae.

“I– ah. I never meant to tell you this. Fuck.” 

Matthew carefully looks at him, through wet eyelashes. He takes his other hand and holds them both, letting the plushie fall over. Taerae doesn't know if he's trying to anchor himself or both of them.

He doesn't understand much of anything.

His heart beats once, bigger than it ever has, glowing and dancing before it inevitably sinks. Acid boils in his throat, threatening to come out as the mere realization that liking him must be something to regret. There is a buzzing sound in his head, consuming his every thought, filling his whole brain with nothing but dizziness. He closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath. 

He doesn't have time for this. He doesn't have time for anything at all, in fact. Taerae opens his eyes to look at the watch again. Eleven hours and something left before the plane leaves, and takes Matthew away with it.

“What about now?” 

Taerae is not sure why he's even asking. It couldn't be clearer, and he has learnt to decode Matthew enough to know what the response will be, but he asks anyway.

“Taerae…”

“What about now?”

He presses, voice firm. He doesn't even know why he wants to hear it directly: maybe to be the one to give the final blow to his heart, pretending he has any power in the situation at all.

“I am leaving for Japan tomorrow, Taerae.” 

He seems to almost be pleading. To let it go, to let the conversation die and not make him say it. Taerae ignores all of it.

“So what?”

It's childish. It's hopelessly romantic and pathetic. It's everything Taerae is not.

He is not a ten year old child, begging for his loved ones to not leave him alone. He has a set career, and Matthew has his own. They're set on different paths, and that's how adult life is.

He just has to move on. He should.

Taerae has never been good at that, though. He doesn't plead, but he still reminisces. He wonders and he regrets and he's so fucking tired now. He lost one person after the other, but he can't lose Matthew too. Not when Matthew wanted him back.

Fuck.

“I started closing my heart off when I accepted the offer to continue my career in Japan, Taerae. I have experienced how it feels to move countries and leave everything behind, and how painful it can be when you're not completely ready. When your heart is still trailing behind, kilometres away from your body, aching and asking you to come back.

I made my peace with it this time. I needed to. I can't go through the same thing again.

I never planned to tell you about my feelings, I just thought that eventually I would be better. I am, mostly. I will be.”

Volcanoes don't erupt just once and then go back to being dormant, as if they never woke up at all: just a low percentage of eruptions can last a day– some last for a week, but most of them for months or years. In Taerae’s case, it's not over as quickly as he hoped it would be (he would have rather not exploded at all).

His head spins, eyes becoming unfazed as his mind runs through everything.

“Taerae?”

Matthew asks, uncertain and caring. Always caring.

“Just pretend. Pretend that you still like me.” 

(No̶t̶ l̶o̶v̶e̶ )

“At least for tonight.”

Taerae still feels nauseous, but he ignores it, refusing to explode again. He doesn't fully know what he's talking about or if he's going to regret any of this. For the first time in his life, he doesn't want to think at all.

Matthew looks at him with a frown, dubious and slightly confused. And while he gets it, Taerae’s mind goes into a brief panic trying to come up with something, anything, to talk more, to not let it end before it even began.

“To close this chapter, no? Think about it, we could do what we wanted, so that there are no regrets layer on. It would be easier to move this time, when you did everything you wanted to do here.” 

“Taerae…” 

Matthew is still perplexed, but he's not shutting it down, which must mean something.

Rather than be confused at the idea itself, Taerae feels like he knows what Matthew is actually worried about.

“You will have your heart with you in Japan. I will have my heart here, still intact after it got what it wanted, after we both will be closing this chapter. It's not that complicated, right? It doesn't have to be, if we decide it isn't. I can do it just fine.”

As if. As if I have any say on what I feel. As if I ever had any say on any of it.

Matthew still isn't convinced, and Taerae feels like he might have chosen the wrong words. Is it really that easy to read him? To tell he's lying? Fuck. He needs to change strategy, he needs to distract Matthew before he realizes that this is probably the worst plan in the world.

“Or is it too hard for you, mh? You don't think you can?”

He tries to put it as a challenge, like a game. It makes it feel like they're seriously just going to pretend, and that Taerae won't be a completely different person by the end of it. How dramatic.

Taerae just hopes Matthew takes the bait, believing that Taerae can do it, that he's strong enough to pull any of it off (he really isn’t, but maybe if he has another person to believe in him, then maybe, just maybe, he can. He has always been better at games than Matthew, anyway. Once he gets the gist of it, he's not going to lose).

“That's not really–”

“Mh. I didn't think my Matthew was such a coward. I might have gotten a crush on the wrong guy.”

Taerae interrupts him, and Matthew smirks just a little for the first time in that evening, something between incredulous and amused.

Taerae’s heart beats too fast, trying to pretend that his tongue isn't burning at his own words, but he feels some sense of pride in that accomplishment, comfortability in joking around like that. Like it's nothing important at all.

“Taerae-ya, I'm not a kid or the villain in some anime that you can provoke with just a couple of words to play your little game.”

“Maybe. But you'd be missing what else my mouth can do.”

At that, Matthew fully explodes in a laughter, throwing his head back and covering his face with his hands. The tears are gone, and while the tips of Taerae’s ears are completely red from embarrassment, he can't help but smile a little bit. It has never felt nicer to hear that laugh of his.

It takes maybe a minute or two before Matthew stops laughing and is able to breathe again.

“Alright. Alright, okay, yeah. We can do it.”

He looks crazed, almost out of his mind as his hand goes through his hair. He has never looked hotter.

“Yeah?”

They lock eyes for a bit, the room completely silent. The air shifts, getting heavier, Taerae's skin tingling.

He fights the urge to look away, and holds eye contact as much as he can.

“Yeah.” Matthew smiles, “Holy fuck, who would be a fool enough to reject an offer of kissing the Kim Taerae.”

Taerae tries to not roll his eyes and smile back.

He doesn't say anything and Matthew moves closer, his hands holding both of Taerae’s.

But he stops just a few centimetres away, when Taerae already feels his breath on him. He wants to reach for him, close the distance, but Matthew is suddenly serious again. He’s staring right into his eyes, the slightest bit of worry still left in his expression.

“But you need to promise me that you'll stop if you feel like it's too much. You need to promise me, Taerae.”

Taerae wants to mock him, to laugh and tell him that he's thinking too much, when the worrying is supposed to be his thing. He also wants to bare his skin open and lie down in a surgery room for Matthew to examine him.

He chooses a compromise.

“I promise,” Taerae smiles, “you think too much.” He adds, for good measure.

Matthew rolls his eyes fondly before Taerae can't take waiting anymore. He takes off his glasses, setting them aside, sits on the other’s lap and catches Matthew’s lips on his own.

Kissing Matthew isn't really what he expected. It's not like Taerae ever thought he would actually get to do it one day but the few times he imagined it (in what felt like a completely made up and unrealistic world) either when daydreaming while eating breakfast or pathetically trying to jerk himself off on the evening, it was never really like this.

It’s salty. A little dry because they both shed too many stupid tears and Taerae forgot to apply his chapstick. It's also warmer than his imagination could've ever supplied him.

He tells Matthew such (just the first part though. Never the last).

“You're insufferable. You taste salty too.”

Taerae smiles in the kiss, they both have been since they started. Matthew keeps his eyes closed though, while Taerae can't seem to decide between keeping them open or not. He does a little bit of both: trying to be in the moment but also taking the chance to see him from up close when he knows he won't ever again.

“You're not going to break me, Matthew-ya.”

He whispers, a little teasingly.

Taerae knows Matthew wants to kiss him, because Matthew doesn't really do anything he doesn't want to. But he's still being so careful with it, calm and delicate as if any sudden movement could spook Taerae off, scared that any actual display of passion or feelings would be enough to break poor, freshly confessed, Taerae.

It wouldn't. It already did when he decided to walk to Matthew’s room that afternoon.

Matthew stops kissing him to stare into his eyes, and Taerae tries to be as cool and collected as he could ever possibly be. He breaks a little smirk too, just to show off. Matthew rolls his eyes before looking away for a second, then suddenly comes closer and ugh! Bump their foreheads together?

Taerae isn't given time to ask what the fuck before Matthew smiles and comes back to catch his lips, this time with a little more urgency, a little more fervor.

He finally moves his hands: from holding Taerae’s hands to holding his waist, first unsure and then more confident, bringing him closer. Their small height difference seems even bigger with Taerae on his lap (Taerae might or not might be a little too smug about it), so Matthew does what he can to bring him back down. 

He registers all these little movements. Every behaviour, every breath change, sound or blink coming from Matthew. He swallows and devours it all like it's fuel on his outdated machine, the only nourishment keeping him from dying completely.

He feels with the highest intensity Matthew’s finger trailing down his shirt, touching his bare skin, but it doesn't make him jerk in surprise. It's not cold at all, it's warm just like Matthew has been every minute of everyday since he first met him.

It feels right just like he learnt it to be after years together.

Matthew’s casual touches on his knee or on the shoulder have long stopped surprising him and making him jump like a scaredy cat; he's so used at this point he barely ever registers them at all, comfortable as it has become.

And it was absolutely terrifying to realize that he felt that fucking safe with anyone when he could count in one hand how many people in his life he has ever felt that way with. To touch and be touched without overthinking every move of his.

The first moan is unexpected. Though Matthew is the one known to make any sort of weird noise at all times, Taerae isn't that much better, so he thought he could be completely normal about it.

But to know that he's the reason that Matthew let it out, to be the one that made it happen, is no different than being electrocuted, for all Taerae knows. It's maddening and it messes up with his head and if he let Matthew be in charge until now, well, things change fast. 

The urgency comes back even stronger, but not for the lack of time or for the clock arrows moving at an increasing speed, not at all. The urgency comes from deep in his throat, all down to the stomach. I need to hear it again. I need to hear that sound again and again and again. Is the only thought running in his mind, greedy and starved.

Taerae pushes Matthew back to the bed, his hands moving increasingly, touching everything he can, caressing and holding and squeezing anything they can find. The kiss moves from the lips to the jaw to the neck, biting as hard as he can, and Matthew moans again. His hips buck to meet his own, and Taerae follows suit with a similar whine, straight from his gut, ripped from his heart.

There is no one left at the dorm anymore. There are no schedules for the next day, except the airport appearance which can be covered with a scarf and a jacket.

It's the middle of winter anyway, no one is going to suspect anything, and Taerae is too impatient to care.

“You're fucking crazy.” 

Matthew breathes out, eyes wide.

He turns his head to the side anyway and bares more of his neck for Taerae to take. 

Taerae only smiles as he dives back in, licking the increasing red mark on the skin. He didn't break skin, but almost. Too bad.

He sits up again but only to take Matthew’s tank top off.

There are too many clothes in the way, nearly not enough skin to skin contact. He's impatient and Matthew only giggles before taking it off and giving him a quick peck.  Taerae indulges him before going back to his job of touching and kissing every part of Matthew's body.

He feels a little bad that Matthew is definitely not going to get enough rest before his flight but well, he can still nap on the plane.

Right now, there are much more important matters at hand. Like stealing even more whines and moans from the man under him, imprinting each one of them in his mind forever, for example.

He takes one nipple between his thumb and the index squeezing it as he sucks on the other, tongue swirling around it. Matthew’s hands move to hold his head, hands between his hair, breath heavy and legs shaking.

All because of Taerae.

He hasn't felt this proud in a while.

Taerae switches to suck the other nipple, taking it between his teeth and pulling it. Matthew’s legs close around his waist, as he lets out another loud moan.

“Fuck you're good– ah you're good at this.”

The praise goes straight to his tummy, making him smile, pleased. It spurs him to keep going, to make Matthew feel so good that he will never forget about this night for the rest of his life, making sure no one coming after will compare to him.

Taerae has admitted he has fallen in love. But he never claimed that it’s always a pretty feeling.

It was boiling deep inside of him for too long, it's no surprise that some of it might have gone bad. Forgive him for wanting to leave marks to remember who has been there, who was,at least at some point, the object of similar desire from Matthew.

He keeps going. Keeps leaving a trail of kisses until he reaches his shorts– then keeps going down, making Matthew groan. 

Taerae barely even hears it. He's looking at Matthew’s body, memorizing every inch of skin, every mole he has never seen before, every stretch of it. He throws away all the useless information in his mind to make new space for these new ones, stuffing Matthew's folder to the brim.

He's not even blinking, he doesn't think he can. His head feels slightly fuzzy, and his throat dry. He dives back in and licks the inner thigh, close to Matthew’s clothed hardness but yet still not there.

Matthew leaves another delicious sound, and Taerae feels between proud and overwhelmed. He's not sure how to proceed, which way would make Matthew feel good, how to make the only night they have together the best Matthew could ever have. He's not going to have this chance again, he can't waste it by making it a bad one.

Everything feels a little bit on fire, lava threatening to come out once again, from his insides to the outside. It will burn everything and make the room catch on fire, killing them as they hold each other. It doesn't sound that bad actually, but maybe if he just moves better, if he just bites harder, they will–

Matthew snaps him out of his thoughts, leaning over to take Taerae’s face in his hands.

He brings him close, and lets him sit on his lap. Taerae is confused yet he tries to chase the other’s lips anyway. But after just a quick peck Matthew holds him back, forcing him to stay put.

“Taerae-ya.”

He never used his strength this way, and the younger can't deny the fact that he finds it just a little hot. He tries to not let his hands wander and grind his hips a little bit, feeling hot all over and face completely red, but Matthew doesn't let him move.

“Jagiya– Taerae.”

The hand on his face forces him to look down, staring right into his eyes. They're sweet and they're lovely and it feels too much all at once, so Taerae closes his own and lets their forehead bump together, just breathing in the same space for a few seconds.

He barely realized he was out of breath at all.

“It’s just me, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here with you. Keep taking deep breaths, mh?”

For now.

“Is it too much? We can stop anytime.”

Taerae shakes his head. He lets himself feel Matthew’s touch, Matthew’s presence with him.

He’s still here. still alive and still here.

“I'm fine. More than fine, really.”

Matthew blinks a few times, studying him, until he deems the other to be okay enough. Taerae finds himself smiling, this time more truthfully, and it's enough for Matthew to start again more slowly, this time. Kissing the corner of his eyes, where a single drop almost fell, then the cheek, and then the nose, and then the corner of his lips and finally his mouth.

Steady, more peaceful, almost like the beginning but with the added comfortability of two people that already met each other’s lips, though barely just thirty minutes ago. It's as if they have all the time in the world, and not just a few hours before they get separated for who knows when.

It's not frenzy or hot, yet it's almost the most overwhelming Taerae has felt the whole night. He still has his shirt and pants on yet he feels completely naked, vulnerable for Matthew to see and touch.

He takes a deep breath and realizes for how long he has been wanting this, for how long he has been craving it, and now has it in his hands.

“I love you.” 

Matthew stills for just a moment before resuming his kisses, this time on the corner of the other eye.

“I love you.”

Taerae repeats. It's as if now that he said it once, he just can't stop. Another kiss, now on the ear. It's a little reverent, and the most Matthew can ever love him.

“I love you.”

A third kiss, this time on the jaw.

Taerae is not saying the words just for Matthew to say it back. He knows he won’t.

He's no more than a believer sitting down while confessing to his God, already aware that his sins won't be forgiven. He's saying it because now he can, so he will, even if there is no point to it.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, Matthew-ya."

Taerae wonders if he's just trying to get Matthew to stop. If he's trying to overwhelm the other with the feelings that he had been keeping inside all this time, to scare Matthew, to make him wonder if the real Taerae, post explosion, is even worth staying next to.

Against what common sense would beg him to do, Matthew doesn't run away. He would never do such a thing, leaving Taerae when the latter needs him.

Except tomorrow at six in the morning, that is.

Taerae kisses him on the lips and doesn't even allow Matthew to give any sort of response. He doesn't think he would be able to handle it.

It tastes salty again, and he's not sure whether it’s because of him or Matthew.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Matthew yawns as his fingers lazily play with Taerae’s hair, arm resting under his head.

He usually would've been asleep by now, especially considering how early he will have to wake up tomorrow (or today?)

It's one of the many qualities Taerae always liked about him, and why he always asked to room together whenever they were overseas. It helped him regulate his sleeping schedule, too. 

Matthew always improved his life like that, without even trying.

“You're such a Cinderella.”

It's easier this way. Matthew puffs but doesn't even playfully shoves him, too tired to do so. It's quite cute when he gets sleepy like that.

“Shut up. It's way past my bedtime already, yet I'm still here. Aren't I?”

“Sure, sure.”

Taerae turns to the side to smile at him. He can't see that much, but the warmth radiating from Matthew's body and the faint light of the moon is enough.

A beat passes as Taerae prepares himself.

“You're a sweet lover.” 

A quick, soft admission. He hurries it, feeling embarrassed just to say something cheesy like that. But maybe it's the last time he allows himself to be fully honest, so he wants to.

Matthew gets that wonky little smile with open teeth on his face whenever he's between confused and happy, blinking slowly trying to stay awake.

“Awww Taerae-ya, you're cute.”

Taerae gets even more embarrassed and turns on the opposite side. He has never really learnt how to properly accept a compliment, though he thinks he got a little better over time (but not by much, almost none at all).

“What are you even saying…”

With his right arm still under Taerae, Matthew uses the left to rest on the other’s stomach, wrapping his leg over him. Taerae wants to struggle and maybe run away but Matthew doesn't let him, so he stops pretending he's annoyed by it. He melts just a little, and takes a deep breath.

“It's true. You have to believe me by now. I only like cute guys.”

Matthew leaves a kiss on his nape, just because he can. Taerae would explode again, set himself on fire, if only he didn't feel guilty to already have kept Matthew awake for so long.

“I'm serious, ya know.”

Words and actions and feelings and everything that could be read in ways that Taerae knows he can't afford to do.

His fingers twitch before he brings them down to hold Matthew’s hand, interlocking them. He can at least pretend it's real, if not for tonight only. He has every right to.

Matthew tightens the hold, nuzzling in Taerae’s back, but Taerae still feels the yawn on his skin.

“You should get some sleep, Matthew-ya.”

“I'm about to. Aren't ya gonna sleep too?”

Taerae smiles, though he knows Matthew won't see it.

He doesn't really plan to, but the other doesn't need to know about it. It takes only two minutes for Matthew to fall asleep, anyway.

“I will. Don't worry.”

Taerae waits for Matthew’s breath to even out, counting every second, before he opens his eyes again. There is not much to do considering he's trapped in the hug (and doesn't really want to move), so he just stares ahead, at the full moon illuminating the city and the surroundings through the window.

He wishes he could turn around and stare at Matthew for the rest of the night, utilizing every moment he has, but that might be just a little creepy and impossible to do without waking the other up. He settles on focusing Matthew’s soft breathing, the air on his neck, the hand still firmly holding into his. He replays the scenes of the night, over and over again, trying to not forget any of them.

That’s all they’re going to be, after all: memories.

The emptiness in the bed is not an unfamiliar way for Taerae to wake up to.

It's just the room, the bed itself and the knowledge that it wasn't empty up until some hours ago, that are quite different than usual.

Taerae remembers trying to not fall asleep, trying everything. He sang a song in his head, took deeper breaths, flexed his fingers to keep his own body active. He wanted to enjoy every last minute he had with him but nothing really worked.

He fell asleep and woke up with Matthew gone.

It was their first and last night together, but Taerae didn't even get the experience of waking up in the same bed. What a half assed plan. I should ask for a refund.

(He maybe could have experienced it, if only he had confessed before last night. It's too fucking early in the morning to think about any of that).

He needs to open his eyes and get up. He doesn't really want to, but he will, eventually. He just needs five more minutes. Five minutes and he leaves the room. Five minutes and he closes it behind him and never comes back, leaving what happened in these enclosed four walls, and his feelings with it.

But just for now, he will keep his eyes closed.

Taerae turns his back from the window and hides his face in the pillow, unfortunately realizing that it still smells like Matthew: vanilla and a little bit of lemon. There is still a trace of him everywhere he goes. Whether he stays here or goes back to his room, where the car he bought in Japan is displayed in the glass, or the hoodie he stole from Matthew and never gave back is, or the duck keycap and Snowflake are hidden, or where the guitar he played the song for Matthew stays in.

Matthew, Matthew, Matthew.

Was it not supposed to be easier from today? Out of sight, out of mind? Like hell.

Taerae groans and opens his eyes, searching for his phone. 6:40AM . Matthew is probably already at the airport, waiting for the gate to open and the boarding to start. Taerae closes his eyes again and sets his phone aside, only to feel a piece of paper next to it.

The note is a little crumpled, put there in haste. Taerae blinks a few times, brain still catching up, and glasses still off. What could Matthew ever have written that couldn’t be said through a text? “ Thank you for last night, I will be able to move on better now. I hope you will too. Goodbye, Matthew.”?

It wouldn't be that direct. Maybe it would have a joke or two to make it less serious, or even worse, say that he loved him, as the good friend he always has been.

Taerae stares at it for a few more seconds before folding it and throwing it in the bin.

His five minutes are up and he's leaving.

If Matthew decided to move on and closed the chapter exactly as Taerae proposed, it's completely fine and that was the strategy for all along anyway.

He doesn’t need a reminder for it. Taerae will follow his script and do just the same. 

Volcanic eruptions come to a stop, eventually. If he’s within the miraculous 9% of cases, they stop within twenty-four hours, otherwise they will fall in the 93% that stop within three years, Taerae still doesn't know. But the lava reached the surface and the outer crust quickly hardened, cooling down.

He gets up and leaves Matthew’s room.

Hey Taerae,

I will probably be waiting to board the plane when you get up. I didn't want to send you a message and accidentally wake you up, so I'm writing this note in a rush, waiting for the cab to arrive. It feels more old-fashioned and romantic though, doesn't it? ㅎㅎ

I don't really know how we ended up like that yesterday, it doesn't really feel real. I don't regret it, but I wish it happened sooner. I wish I knew what it felt to have dated you for real, and not just for a night.

But maybe it doesn't have to end this way? I don't really know.

Wouldn't it be really romantic if you ran to the airport, stopping me right before I board the plane? That would be a good story to tell to family and friends. I think I would enjoy that.

I think I might even be crazy enough to listen to you and not leave.

So. What if we actually gave it a real chance? What if my heart gets to stay here with you? As long as you haven’t already closed our chapter, that is. But I don’t think you did. I don’t think you’re the person to do that at all.

I don’t know why I pretended I believed you last night. Maybe I was being even more selfish, as desperate as I was to just get a taste of your love before it was too late.

Or maybe I’m completely off track, making up stories as usual and assuming one too many wrong things.

Let me know anyway. 

Maybe yours, Matthew.

(PSA: we didn't even eat anything for dinner last night and the fridge is empty. Eat breakfast in your dorm, or pick it up on your way here. Wherever you decide to go, don't forget to eat).