Chapter 9

"You know I'm old enough to walk home by myself, right? It's not like I won't survive without you, hyung!"

"Okay, but if that's the case then the family gathering can also wait. I want to walk you home first." Argued the older boy, brows furrowed. They were already making their way back to the entrance of the park, bickering over nothing as usual. It had become a habit for them to take the least crowded exit, savouring whatever sense of privacy they could earn.

"Hyung," he whined, aggressively shaking their intertwined hands to express his annoyance. "Beomgyu will be fine." He used his baby talk advantage whilst throwing on top a pair of pleading eyes for good measure. And he could tell that it worked to a degree, because instantaneously, Yeonjun's expression softened.

Yet his jaw was still tightly clamped, so he tried harder. "What if you go home late, get scolded by your mum and then next time she won't let you hang out with me anymore? We don't want that to happen, right?" His voice had an exaggerated tone to it now, trying so hard to sound convincing that it ended up making Yeonjun flinch.

They stopped in their tracks, now arriving at the exit. Yeonjun would have to take the route to their right for his home, and Beomgyu would have to take the left across the street. Their paths would diverge.

"Hyung, I'm fifteen! I can cross the street by myself! When I'm home, I'll text you. Promise." Beomgyu flashed him a reassuring grin, lifting up a pinky. It took a moment of Yeonjun staring at him skeptically before he finally gave in with a resigned huff, interlocking his pink with the younger's. "You better."

The latter giggled, finally letting go of their hands. He even did a little jump. "Now go enjoy your family gathering and help your mum set up the table, or else she will whoop your butt."

"You don't sound empathetic about that, Choi Beomgyu." The older boy rolled his eyes, tucking his now empty hands into the pockets of his hoodie. The pavement was clear and void of any passerbys, and the sun had already begun to set. "Hurry up now, hyung! Tik tock!"

"Ah, this brat just wants to get rid of me." With a groan he pulled Beomgyu back in with a headlock, which resulted in the younger screaming maniacally. Yeonjun would have let him go, and they would have parted ways then, if only a sense of courage hadn't strangely overcome him to enable one of the stupidest decisions of Yeonjun's short-lived life.

With both hands cupping Beomgyu's face, he abruptly pulled him in for a kiss.

There were no fireworks nor did it feel like time stopped; it was just a long press of Beomgyu's lips against his. What felt like minutes were mere seconds when Yeonjun finally let Beomgyu go. It could be the golden cast of the sunset playing tricks with his eyes, or it could be the fact that his best friend just kissed him again for the second time; much so without either of them asking—but he could have sworn that Yeonjun's cheeks were dusted with crimson.

"Text hyung when you get home, okay?" He whispered, sounding somehow out of breath. Beomgyu could only muster up a nod, and a weak "Okay."

With a flick of his hand, Yeonjun took a glance at his digital wristwatch. It was 5:53pm.

"I'm going now." He took his first retreating step backwards, a satisfied smile on his face. The younger gave him a small wave, which he returned with enthusiasm. Then, he turned his back and headed the other direction.

Beomgyu, too, turned around. It felt weird going home alone without a hand in his and a bickering voice by his side, but he tried to cheer himself up—they were growing older, and things were changing. This should be the new normal. It'll be fine. You're not a baby anymore. Get used to it.

Sighing, he pulled his earphones out of his pocket and plugged them in. With a few punches into his screen, Paper Hearts began to play as he walked down the barren street. His favourite.

He arrived by the crosswalk, silently humming the melody to himself. The feeling of Yeonjun's lips pressed against his still burned like wildfire at the back of his mind, the sensation still fresh on his lips like he hadn't pulled away.

He did that. He really kissed me again. Smiling, he reached up to touch his lips as he got onto the crosswalk.

Was the light green? Or was it red? Either way, it made no difference, since there was not even a single biker on the street.

Paper hearts, and I'll hold a piece of yours,

Giddily, he smiled to himself, like a smitten schoolgirl thinking about her crush. The music was the only thing he was able to hear, and the horizontal white lines of the crosswalk were the only thing he was able to see. Yet, to Beomgyu, he could not see—nor could he hear, nor focus on anything else when all that occupied his mind was Choi Yeonjun.

Not even the crosswalk light blaring a bright red. Not even the deafening honk of a medium pickup van coming at him in full speed, unable to push the brakes in time.

And by the time Choi Yeonjun wasn't the only thing occupying his mind anymore—by the time Beomgyu was looking up at the source of the noise, the look of fright and dread on his face had signalled him that it was already too late.

Don't think I would just forget about it.

He failed to realise then, but little did he know that the last thing Beomgyu would ever see again for the rest of his life were a white pair of bright LED headlights. If he had screamed, he himself did not hear it.

It all happened too quickly, too sudden for anyone to realise just what the impact was truly like until it had already passed. The slightest variable would have prevented it all from happening, and if Beomgyu did just one thing differently—he couldn't help but question—he might still be on the other side of the sidewalk. If only had he looked at the traffic light before crossing. If only he didn't put on his earphones. If only he was paying attention. If only he agreed on letting Yeonjun walk him home.

Yeonjun. If only he didn't let him go.

Beomgyu felt only the slightest bit of affliction—that split second where it felt like the entire force of the universe had conjoined on either side of his hands, tearing his body apart in a cruel tug-of-war until he'd snap in two.

And snap Beomgyu did. After that harrowing split second had passed, what he felt next was a jarring combination of everything and nothing at once. His life didn't even flash before his eyes.

Hoping that you won't forget.

On the other side of the block, Yeonjun was frantically anticipating a text amidst running laps from the kitchen to the dining table, greeting his cousins along the way as he set up the plates. In his jean pocket laid his phone, still and silent; waiting for a vibration that would be the indication of a message.

The text never came.

At fifteen, Beomgyu should have been more adept to walking home alone.