Chapter 13: Cry it Out
"Really?"
Seven's eyes widened.
Don't fall in love.
Don't fall in love.
Don't fall for him.
You'll get hurt.
He'll get hurt.
It does you no good-
"You would... let someone as broken and pathetic as me... ask all that of you?"
Jumin nodded.
"That's right."
He gave the redhead a gentle smile, before placing a soft kiss on the latter's lips.
"So... don't hold it all in anymore.
I'm here... okay?"
The taller man whispered, making the redhead's breath hitch.
Seven nodded slowly, blush forming on his cheeks.
We kissed... again...
... What's this feeling called?
It's making my heart pound...
Jumin tilted his head to the side.
"What's wrong?"
The shorter boy shook his head.
"Nothing."
Jumin sighed.
"You'd better promise me that you'll not keep everything inside of you."
Seven pouted.
"I know."
He wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist and hid his face in the latter's chest.
But for someone like You...
... to let me be who I don't usually appear to be...
Just because you care...
... I'm so weak.
He hugged Jumin closer.
I want to let go of you...
I don't want to let go of you...
Oh man, I'm going to cry.
Seven let out a low whimper, pain still present in his chest.
Jumin ran his fingers through the redhead's hair.
"It's alright. Just... cry it out."
He listened to droplets of rain hit the glass windows of his apartment.
It's raining...
The black-haired man listened to muffled sobs against his chest, and the occasional soft and almost inaudible muttering of words and curses alike.
But it's okay now...
From now onwards, I want your letters to be written with genuine happiness...
He gazed out of the nearest glass window, eyes settling on the blurred details of buildings and streets.
Just like now... If you really have to, pour it all out in the letters you send me.
I won't be bothered.
After all, it's You we're talking about.
You complete my every day.
The sobs quietened down, and Jumin found the redhead dozing off on his chest.
And now he decides to sleep on my chest.
The taller man sighed, running his fingers through glossy red hair.
I'll be waiting for your letters tomorrow, okay?
He smiled to himself, shifting over to lie down on the sheets comfortably, with the redhead still fast asleep on his chest.
But you have to say...
... we're not really friends anymore, are we?
We're something more than that.
More than friends.
Less than Lovers.
What are we?