incomplete ; rawoong

𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

It was during the late afternoon of a cold winter's day that Hwanwoong opened the entrance door of the café whereupon the familiarly bright ring of a bell chimed through the cosy coffee shop, and for a split second, Youngjo was ecstatic and overwhelmed with joy.
Several negligible water drops glistened on Hwanwoong's winter jacket; snowflakes had entangled themselves in his blonde locks and immediately diminished into a liquid aggregate.
Youngjo's heartbeat quickened and he shuddered, though the icy puff of wind that had rushed through the momentary parted glass door was significantly less of a cause for that than Hwanwoong's appearance as such.
He greeted Seoho who stood behind the counter just a few meters away with a quick nod before approaching Youngjo. The latter bit the insides of his cheeks in order to appear composed and not let his facial expression twitch into an overhasty grimace - he certainly did not consider it too unlikely that he could lose control over his nervous system at any moment, springing to his feet and engulfing Hwanwoong in a tight hug, as he desperately craved to be near his boyfriend again, and four days in complete dead air while their relation was so tense anyhow had left him timeless.

In fact, he had decided to give Hwanwoong space, to offer him the distance that he seemingly needed in order to sort out whatever weighed his heart down. Of course, Youngjo had talked to their friends, shared his concerns with them although the helplessness and the frustration he felt had almost reduced him to tears.
They had made a point of making Hwanwoong talk in the absence of Youngjo, but Hwanwoong, by all appearances, did not want to talk about it and dodged the topic before it had been fully vocalized.
Youngjo wished so longingly that Hwanwoong would immediately entrust him an explanation for his withdrawn presence, so that they could go into seclusion and make up for their lost time within the intimate walls of Youngjo's apartment.

Unfortunately, this was not the case.
Hwanwoong did not take the seat across from Youngjo, but whispered with the corners of his mouth quivering ever so slightly: "Can we talk? Outside?" Youngjo nodded firmly despite feeling anxious, got up a tad bit too hurriedly, and followed Hwanwoong outside. He left his belongings as they were, as his thoughts entirely evolved around Hwanwoong and the inescapable hope that they would shortly sort out their silent disagreement and continue where they left off.
For a while, they quietly followed the monotonous pavement, stray snowflakes spiralling downwards from the sky.
From an early age, Youngjo had developed the endowment of decreeing a tactfulness for interpersonal relationships and being able to quickly perceive his vis-à-vis' thoughts and emotions; though, at this moment, he wished so fondly not to sense Hwanwoong's nervousness so forcefully radical within his own system.
They didn't talk for a while and Youngjo believed he could hear Hwanwoong's breaths shaking in distress, when he eventually stopped.
"What," Youngjo gulped, "did you want to talk about?" Youngjo actually wanted to give Hwanwoong time to decide for himself as to when he was ready to start the conversation; however, Youngjo could no longer stand up to Hwanwoong's shaking pupils without speaking up.

Hwanwoong took a deep breath and broke their eye contact.
"We should break up," he finally breathed out.
Youngjo could just about manage to prevent his jaw from dropping, and he felt as if the rug was pulled out from under his feet.
"I... I don't understand," Youngjo whispered, his voice set around an octave too high compared to normal.
In the blink of an eye, his heart sank. The previous adrenalin that had caused his heart to vividly throb against his ribcage seemed to evacuate his body with the next breath, and Youngjo had the sensation that he was unable to breathe – an iron hand clutched his heart muscle and pulled at the strings - at the memories that carried and sheltered their time together.

Hwanwoong didn't reply, and Youngjo put the urge aside to grab the younger by his shoulders and rock him until he came back to his senses, until he grew aware of the here and now. The here and now where Youngjo loved him so endlessly, where his feelings for him were inexpressibly strong that not even the unfolding distance between them could change anything about it.
Youngjo leaned forward; not to hug or to kiss him, as he would have done under normal circumstances, but to lift Hwanwoong's chin, so he could look him in the eyes.
Youngjo gasped inaudibly, as he caught a glimpse of the teary glitter within Hwanwoong's eyes before the younger one could grab his wrist and push him away – Hwanwoong rejected his intimacy and that was exactly what sent another prick through his heart; the lump in his throat grew heavier.
"Hwan, you can't be serious. What did I do wrong?" Slowly but surely, Youngjo's eyes started to burn and it costed him violent effort to save his voice from breaking.
Hwanwoong slowly shook his head and took a step back; to Youngjo, it felt as if there would be miles lying between them.
Youngjo stretched out his hand to stop the younger from damaging his cuticles – an icky habit that Youngjo knew became apparent whenever Hwanwoong would get nervous. Hwanwoong bit his lip and hid his frail hands in the pockets of his cushioned jacket.
"Woong, please... we can fix this. We'll find a way, we always find a way," Youngjo hardly squeezed out whereupon the first tear gushed out from underneath his eyelashes, but Hwanwoong continued to shake his head.
The mere thought that Youngjo could lose the love of his life if he didn't manage to instantly change his mind felt bitterly cold and real. He didn't want to lose him.
"Don't make it harder than it already is." Hwanwoong's voice sounded rough, almost dark, yet Youngjo saw through the fragile frequency that equally resonated with his words.
"Woong, please... Whatever..." again only a dismissive shake of his head, "c-can we at least stay friends?" By now, Youngjo could no longer maintain an uninterrupted flow of words; silent sobs disrupted his stream of speech.
"That wouldn't work, it's impossible. We're done." Youngjo doubted that words existed that could have possibly caused him more pain than these particular ones just had.