Work Text:
yeosang paces through his apartment, glaring. the silence is deafening but it’s somehow comforting. it still hangs heavy on his shoulders. when he looks around, all he feels is the bleak emptiness of being alone. he knows it's for the best, jongho leaving. but it still hurts.
after four years of being together, the relationship ended in a botched proposal. they hadn’t spoken of marriage much. yeosang wasn’t so fond of the idea but he knew jongho wanted that commitment. yeosang thought after a good few conversations, he’d be open to the idea. so, the older had told jongho it was something they needed to speak about in depth, but the younger man had taken it upon himself to propose anyway. that night had caused a huge argument, in which yeosang told his boyfriend many times that he wasn’t ready yet and jongho insisted that it was time they took the next step.
wooyoung had admitted that jongho had asked for wooyoung’s advice many times but never took it. wooyoung had told jongho that yeosang wasn’t ready for it, that they hadn’t even talked about marriage yet, but jongho insisted. that night, jongho left after yeosang’s clear ‘no’, and hadn’t come back or checked in since. yeosang figured that he was hiding out at mingi and san’s place. yeosang reminds himself that he hasn't checked in either.
now, yeosang is looking at the empty boxes on his living room floor, trying to hype himself up. he knows he needs to pack jongho’s stuff up, but the actual task is daunting. it’s been two weeks since jongho left, and yeosang can’t keep staring at his ex’s things. so he moves to the bedroom and starts sorting through the closet and drawers for jongho’s clothes, throwing every item he finds onto the bed. once the closet and drawers are cleared, he turns to the bed with a sigh.
fatigue pulls on his wrists and tears well up in his eyes when he realizes that this is actually happening. that the last four years have disappeared, that it’s time to pack all his memories away and send them off. yeosang climbs on the bed and sits criss-cross, folding every item of clothing as rain pelts his bedroom window. he lets himself cry and swears it’s the last time he will. he won’t miss jongho, he can’t, not when their wants don’t align and would undoubtedly clash. it isn’t really worth it, is it? agonizing over something you know won’t work. crying about someone you know you can’t have.
after the clothes are folded, yeosang rises from his bed and opens the window, hoping his memories will float away and disintegrate in the rain.
-
it takes yeosang a few draining days to fill the boxes. something like bittersweetness claws a hole in his chest when he ultimately decides to return the more expensive things jongho has gifted him over the years. the memories attached to every gift would send him spiraling eventually if kept, and he knows that. yeosang is painfully aware of it, actually.
eventually the boxes are all packed, stacked in the corner of the living room. yeosang sits on the couch and tries to watch a movie. but his gaze keeps finding the boxes. there’s an urge in his chest to open the boxes with jongho’s clothes just to remember. there’s an urge to open the box with previously gifted jewelry, just to remember. yeosang desperately wants to go back to what they had. he turns the volume up on the tv and sighs.
after a while, yeosang realizes he has no idea what’s going on in the movie. his thoughts have been stuck on jongho. he can’t imagine what the other is going through. though yeosang is hurt, he knows jongho is hurt as well. the younger man so desperately wanted to move on in life with yeosang, but yeosang hesitates. every marriage he’s seen has fallen apart. his family has had many broken promises. growing up, yeosang was afraid of any commitment to a person. he was afraid to fall in love, to grow with someone. because, to yeosang, growing up with someone also meant growing apart from them.
that is exactly why he wanted to have a conversation with jongho about marriage. sure, they had talked in passing about a future together, but they had never sat and planned it. when they were together, yeosang had thought jongho was the one he wanted to spend his life with, but that certain step of commitment was something he needed to discuss heavily before a decision. there are so many things that marriage can come with that could ruin everything.
but jongho had gone and done it anyway. when he knew how serious yeosang had always been about their possible future. it wasn’t the proposal that hurt, it was the thoughtlessness behind it.
yeosang eyes the boxes, and his eyes blur with tears. he can’t cry again.
his phone buzzes a few times before he really notices it. it’s beside him, facedown on the couch. when he flips it over, his eyes widen like the universe is making a sick joke. the name on the screen shouldn’t be so surprising. jongho is calling, but what for? yeosang blinks at the name before realizing he should probably answer. his thumb slides across the screen before he even realizes he’s done it.
“hello?”
“yeah, hey.” yeosang breathes out after a moment. he fiddles with a hangnail on the side of his thumb and hopes he sounds normal.
“i know you don’t want to hear from me, but… i was wondering when i can come get my things.” jongho’s scratchy voice is telling, he’s been crying. yeosang wants to curl into a ball and sob. he yanks the hangnail a little too hard, and a soft twinge of pain registers in his mind.
“whenever you want to, i guess.” yeosang finally lets out. he stares at his finger, now red, and sits in the awkward silence. it hurts to be this way with someone he was so comfortable with not long ago. not three weeks ago, he had been curled up on the same couch with jongho, watching a movie and talking about their days at work. now, they talk like strangers.
“i can be there in an hour.” jongho’s response almost sounds like a question. yeosang really wants to hang up and scream, maybe have an actual meltdown, but he doesn’t do it.
“okay.” yeosang replies instead, voice clipped. he doesn’t want to see jongho. there's a simmering feeling in his chest, something that could be a panic attack if he lets it boil. he won't.
“alright. bye.” the call ends, and yeosang tosses his phone across the cushions. he snatches a throw blanket from the back of the couch and lays it over his shoulders. his thoughts run a race, obviously. seeing jongho will fucking hurt, he knows that. should he call wooyoung? though he isn’t sure what that will accomplish. wooyoung will just come over and cuss jongho out. wooyoung has always been protective. yeosang doesn’t need another fight.
instead of doing anything, yeosang turns another movie on and actually tries to pay attention to it. but his eyelids begin to droop when boredom takes over. he lets himself rest.
it’s almost exactly an hour later when yeosang wakes up to a knock on the front door. he wipes the sleep from his eyes and gets up, taking the blanket with him. he breathes slowly as he approaches the front door, then opens it. the door creaks loudly, revealing jongho who is as stunning as ever, even when it’s clear he’s been crying. his eyes are red and he’s wearing clothes that are too long on him, probably mingi’s. yeosang steps aside silently to let him in.
“i packed everything up for you. the boxes are in the living room.” yeosang states, keeping his voice flat. jongho nods as he passes. yeosang makes a beeline for the kitchen as his heartbeat picks up. when he reaches the counter, he all but falls against it. he realizes he’s been holding his breath since jongho walked through the door. he grips the countertop with white knuckles, willing himself to calm down.
even after a fitful nap, that panic attack is still a threat. yeosang forces himself to breathe evenly and squeezes his eyes shut for full focus. eventually, he relaxes and exits the kitchen, making his way back to the couch.
most of the boxes have disappeared since his kitchen adventure. jongho is nowhere to be seen, so he's probably lugging another one outside. yeosang turns the tv off and scrolls through his phone instead. the front door opens and the older man tries to act as unbothered as possible.
“thank you for packing it all up for me. i could've done it.” jongho offers. yeosang’s eyes flit over to the man standing in the threshold of the living room. his hair is wet with misty rain.
“i know. you're welcome.”
“can i say something?”
“...okay.”
“i’m sorry. i hope you find someone who treats you better.” jongho says simply, like it was easy. his words send a pang through yeosang’s chest, like he's been physically stabbed. the older man swallows, mouth suddenly dry.
“thank you.” yeosang replies, voice choked. he watches as jongho fishes through his pockets. his hand emerges, holding his copy of the apartment key. he places it on the arm of the couch and turns on his heel to pick up the last box.
“let me know if… i don't know. if you ever need anything.” jongho says, facing yeosang one last time. his chest pulls tight. he can't respond, so he just nods. jongho walks through the entryway and the door closes, and yeosang is alone.