Are we friends yet?

[TW] Apology and Promise

Trigger Warning for a sensitive topic

~*~

"I'm sorry," I say finally, fighting down the lump resurfacing in my throat, "...that I made you leave with me. You should've been with Minseok."

"No. Minseok has a bunch of friends with him now. You need me more."

I mouth a thank you because I don't know if I could mutter it properly without sounding so broken.

Cheondung didn't speak so much and I was quiet when he drove to his apartment.

The beeping sound from my phone in my clutch was ignored the entire time tears streamed down my face. The jumbled of hurt and guilt was poured out of me that I couldn't control because both Chanyeol and Cheondung were seen at the same place although it barely lasted long because I decided that runaway was an option.

"I never saw you cry." Cheondung’s voice is affectionate as he hands me a glass of water, though it sounds like he may have been teasing me for crying.

He carefully climbs off of the couch, kneeling down and wrapping his hands around mine. He squeezes and tightens his hold.

"You seem to have a hard time and I can't imagine returning to the camp before you feel alright."

I'm everything but alright.

"I'm feeling better," I lie. "Crying makes me feel better."

"Don't make me think that you secretly love Minseok that you're sad because he's engaged now." I smile finally, but the pain doesn't leave. "Is it something you can share with me? Or is it real that it's about Minseok?"

"Dad joke, oppa." I squeeze his hands. The warmth is comforting and he's smiling.

He sits beside me again and moves his arms up around my back to hug as tightly as he can. He whispers that he missed me to my hair and I blink my tears away when he says that he doesn't want to see me sad.

We stay this way for a while, clutching at each other as if we both need it.

And after that, he is the one who suggests that we need to order foods for dinner. When the foods arrive, he invites Joon, his flatmate, to eat with us, but Joon grabs the foods and decides that he will go back to his room, thinking that we need a private space.

We'll eat in silence if it's not him who maintains the conversation. He is pouring me more water as he's listening to my response to his question.

"This afternoon I sealed a deal to prepare brunch at the weekends for a family in Gangnam."

He smiles and occupies himself with pouring out some more water for himself. 

"You should prepare one for me."

I nod. "Sure. Come to my shop and I'll cook what you want."

He looks excited and I want to forget that I'm hurting him. But that's impossible especially when another concern leaves his mouth, asking me what's going on. I clear my throat hastily as I stop cleaning up the coffee table.

"You're right. I'm having a hard time."

"I'm here."

I don't know how to start. I never know if I ever will.

Should I start with apology?

Then, I'm convinced that there's nothing I can do about it. Again, my mind is crowded with terrible scenarios and pressuring what-ifs and I feel like I might collapse with the weight of them.