Anna Yang

Laughter crackled from Chenle’s open mouth, eyes in crescent moons, and every breath he took reminded Jisung of what he would miss. The way his hair fell into his eyes when it was an inch too long, the shake in his shoulders when something was extra amusing, his pink lips that parted to tease Jisung about one thing or another— this, and this, and this. 

“I like you.” On the rooftop where the story of them began, Jisung finally accepted that he had to let Chenle go. “More than a friend.”

Wasn’t it poetic that this might be the end of them too?

“I know.” The smile on Chenle’s face mellowed until it was gone. Jisung didn’t know what to make of it. “I’ve always known.” 

All he knew was that he could hear his heart pound in his ears, felt it thumping against his skull, but strangely enough, no matter how deep the fangs of fear dug into his throat, no matter how much poison it sent rushing in his veins, Jisung regretted nothing. “Since when?” 

“I don’t remember.” Chenle’s gaze was relentless, unyielding and persistent, and Jisung couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “Maybe… this whole time?” 

“This whole time,” he echoed, his head falling forward again onto the fence. “I guess I’ve never been good at lying.” It was meant to be a joke, a light-hearted cut to the tension that grew, but he couldn’t trick Chenle or himself. 

Words escaped the both of them for a while. Plenty dangled in front of their eyes, almost enough for them to say this or that, but nothing Jisung could string together felt or sounded right. Or, maybe, there was nothing for him to say anymore: the ball was out of his hands.

Like Chenle came to the same conclusion, he exhaled through his nose, waiting until the air had left the entirety of his chest before he murmured, “I’m sorry.” 

And instead of this ending in fire as Jisung once thought, all that erupted from those two words was his breath from his lungs like bloom from a bud two seasons late. All the emotions he had locked up in the depths of his chest were finally released, cherry blossom petals making their descent after a life well spent, and the ache didn’t disappear, but it did subside until its claws were trimmed, a lion-turned-house cat nuzzled at his side. 

Spring returned early, and Jisung could breathe anew.