Gravity, Chapter Thirteen

[justzoni]

Fandom: UKISS
Rating: PG
Pairing: JaeVin, ElVin (mentioned)
Chapter: 13/17
Summary: Kevin Woo has resigned. AJ is left with the knowledge that he was not alone in his feelings for the other man and it nearly destroys him. Taking a chance, he follows Kevin to San Francisco in order to try and reclaim the only thing that has ever meant anything to him.



Thursday night, and I finally have a chance to relax and breathe.

After practice, Kevin and I came back to my place. That was a couple of hours ago, and nothing terribly interesting has happened in the interim. We're just chilling out and waiting for Eli. He's supposed to be bringing food. That's a nice change; I'm really tired of having to buy lunch. All of this is a great change of pace, honestly. Since my renewed determination to work on just being friends with Kevin, all of that tension and worry I felt before has all but vanished.

I can hear Kevin out in the living room. I'm organizing things in the kitchen, but he's resting on my couch. His leg still isn't back to normal, so he's just trying to keep it up for a while now that all of the hard stuff is done for the day.

"AJ?" he calls.

Looking out of the archway into the living area, I arch an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"I'm thirsty," he tells me. "Do you have anything to drink?"

"Sure, give me a minute."

Pouring him a glass of soda, I head out of the kitchen. My phone starts ringing as I make my way towards the couch. Handing Kevin the cup, I fish the phone out of my pocket and blink at the screen. It's Eli. He's not due here of another hour. Did he forget what he was supposed to bring or something?

Sliding the button on the screen, I answer the call. "Hey. What's up?"

"Look, man, I am so sorry." That's a great way to start a phone call. I'm groaning inwardly as I listen to his voice. "I mean it. I know we had this all planned out, and I called to apologize 'cause I'm not going to be able to make it."

Of all the reasons that he could be calling, this is the least expected. "What? Why? We've been planning on this all week."

There's a sort of awkward, gross gagging sound from the other end of the line, followed by some retching that I kind of wish I couldn't hear. Eli sounds short of breath as he explains. "I'm sick."

"You're sick." There's a momentary doubt. Then, I manage to put two and two together as I realize something. Something that I left at his place about a week and a half ago. "You ate the stuff in the fridge, didn't you." It's not even a question.

There's a guilty silence. "Yeah."

"Idiot."

I don't even wait for the response before hanging up. Kevin sips at his drink, looking up at me curiously. I guess I should probably tell him. "Eli's not coming."

"Is he okay?"

"He just ate some old stuff out of his fridge. He'll be fine." That's the truth, but there's something else about him ducking out that makes me feel a little uneasy. "Looks like we're on our own for the evening."

Being alone with Kevin at work is one thing. I'm used to that, and I'm even used to doing things with him one-on-one when the situation requires it. Even though I considered canceling our extra practices, I haven't. Even though they might be private, it's still work. This is social. Our friendship is still in its infancy. Despite my recent acceptance of that, we don't exactly hang out together outside of work a lot. In fact, I think we've both kind of been avoiding spending time together when there aren't other people involved.

Apparently my apprehension is catching. Kevin's quiet, happy demeanor fades. He starts looking around the room as though searching for something to say. After a moment, he asks something that I'm kind of wondering, too.

"Do you... Should I just head home?" he asks. "We can always do this another night. When he's feeling better."

Maybe he's wondering how to handle our friendship when we're alone, too. In truth, I only invited Kevin because Eli asked me to do so. Looking at him now and remembering my own issues from a couple of days ago, I feel my stomach turn uneasily. What would my girlfriend think? She doesn't know what happened with him, and she isn't here right now. She's at work and probably not coming here tonight. Maybe I should offer to drive Kevin home. That would probably be best for both of us.

As soon as that thought crosses my mind, I'm hit with a wave of guilt. I wouldn't be thinking like this if it were Kiseop or Soohyun sitting on my couch right now. If I'm sincere in being friends with him, I shouldn't even be thinking about telling him to go home. I invited both of them over for a movie night. Just because Eli canceled doesn't mean that we can't still have a good evening.

Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts. "You're not going anywhere. We're going to watch a movie, remember?" I pause, suddenly realizing how bossy I sound. "Unless... you want to go home, I mean."

The smile returns to Kevin's lips. He shakes his head. "I'd like to stay."

"Okay, then," I say, smiling hesitantly.

"If Eli's not coming," Kevin says thoughtfully, "how're we doing food?"

The question is amusing, considering the fact that we grabbed food before we got to my apartment. All of our work earlier must have sparked his appetite. Even so, I'm a little hungry, too. "Guess we'll get delivery."

Delivery comes and a little of my apprehension fades as we both settle into the couch and make the most of our meal. Juggling chopsticks, a drink and the television remote, I somehow manage to get the movie started with only minimal teasing from Kevin.

"This is what you wanted to watch?" he asks as he looks at the DVD box, trying not to laugh. "This is really silly."

Dropping the remote onto the coffee table, I snatch the box out of his hands. My face is turning slightly red. "It's not silly. It's awesome. Eli suggested it, so it can't be that bad."

Kevin is laughing now. I'm kind of glad that we decided to let the previews play rather than skipping straight to the DVD menu. Why do some of these discs even have this option available?

"It's silly," he replies confidently. "I would have thought that the two of you would have agreed on, I don't know, an action movie or some horror flick or something."

Amused, I arch an eyebrow. He hates horror. "Horror? Really?"

"Yeah. Zombies, or ghosts, or witches or something. Or zombie-ghost-witches." He sticks out his tongue. Reaching over, I poke him in the side. He laughs, swatting my hand away, and with that the atmosphere becomes some sort of comfortable. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

Little by little, the remains of our food make their way onto the coffee table. Drinks are emptied and then forgotten, left sitting on top of the wood as the movie plays. He's right. The movie is silly, even for my tastes, but I'm not paying nearly as much attention to it as I probably should. Instead, I'm painfully aware of how the two of us are positioned on the couch.

Kevin started out sitting crammed against the far side, his injured leg hanging off the edge of the couch like he wasn't sure where to put it. As the movie has been playing, though, he's scooted closer and closer across the cushions. It's maybe forty minutes in when I realize that he’s sitting directly next to me, only a couple of inches away and shifting a little like he's not sure whether or not being this close is allowed.

When I decided to go ahead with this movie night idea, I don't know what I thought would happen. If Eli had been here, we'd probably all three wind up sprawled all over the couch with no worries as to who or what landed where. Somehow, it's different when it's just Kevin. I'm trying to draw a line and say that I should treat him the same way that I would any of our other friends, but the truth is that I can't. Not with something like this.

Little by little, he sinks back into the couch cushions. As he does so, I can feel him leaning towards me. Not completely, mind you, but enough that I can feel him pressing up against my side. He likes being close to people and he likes snuggling. For him, this is completely normal. For me, it puts me on edge. Feeling him this close stirs up things it shouldn't. Memories of before, memories of that party that still haunts me. But this time, I know that I'm the one who's overreacting. This really isn't that unusual. We've watched movies together countless times, and I've never once batted an eye at feeling him close while we did so.

The longer the movie plays, the closer he gets, and the longer I let it go the easier it is to breathe. I may have been uneasy at first, but there's no denying that having a warm somebody next to me is kind of relaxing. Fifteen, twenty minutes pass and I start to get used to the closeness.

When he's not in the spotlight, Kevin can be very affectionate. I know that he's restraining himself right now, the only sign I get that he's not completely at ease, either. Rather than snuggling closer or sprawling all over the couch, he's just leaning against me lightly, his hand rubbing his twisted ankle. I'm paying more attention to him than the movie, concerned by the small bit of distance he seems to be putting between us. He is being reserved and I don't understand why.

"Are you okay?" I murmur, eying him. "If your leg is hurting, let me know. I'll get you an ice pack."

Kevin shakes his head and pulls away a little. I can feel the air between us. "I'm fine," he tells me. "Just enjoying the movie."

That's what he's saying, but he doesn't really look like he's enjoying it. He just looks uncomfortable, like maybe he doesn't know exactly what to do with himself. It's actually weirder to have this awkwardness between us than it is to have him close.

"Come on." I shift a little on the couch, lifting my arm a little.

Kevin looks at me apprehensively. He glances up at how my arm is held, then back to my face. When I nod, he smiles. Not a big smile, just a little one, but that's enough. He shifts again on the couch, snuggling up against my side and setting his leg on cushions beside him. He lets out a contented murmur as my arm falls down around his shoulders. There's a small bite of pain in my chest as he presses closer to my chest, but it's quickly forgotten as we both relax and turn our attention back to the movie.

The film rolls and I zone out completely, my mind wandering without my permission. I'm not even really paying attention to the plot or anything until I realize that the film has ended and the credits are rolling. There's a sweeping, epic score that is completely at odds with what we just watched. Little by little, the world comes back into focus. Most of what I feel is warmth. Kevin is still curled up at my side and making no move to pull away even though the movie is over. Even though I'm not sure that this was a great idea, I can't remember the last time that I felt this comfortable.

Taking a deep breath, I look down to see if Kevin has fallen asleep. He hasn't. Instead, he's staring up at me with an unreadable look on his face. Those eyebrows of his are turned up in the middle as he stares at me, licking his lips nervously. I'm not sure what to think about that expression on his face, but it makes me feel like my stomach has fallen through the floor. I know that I should say something, or maybe do something, but I can't seem to get any words past my lips. How did we get like this?

My breath catches in my chest as Kevin shifts. I can feel his hand tightening in my shirt from where he's halfway hugging my waist.

"Kevin," I murmur, "what are you doing?"

Rather than respond, he leans slowly upwards, lifting himself with one hand on my thigh. I can see him moving, but for some reason I can't seem to pull away. His breath hits my lips. Then, all I can think about is the warm heat of his mouth in mine.

Kevin is kissing me.

Our mouths mold together. His lips are soft and warm, offering slight pressure and small tremors before he pulls back half an inch. He looks at me for a split second, then he tilts his head and presses closer still, pulling my bottom lip between both of his own. Despite myself, I give in. There is nothing in my world in this moment but warmth and that sweet-sour taste of his lips. Somehow, my entire world suddenly seems to right itself. I hadn't even realized that it had been upside-down.

All of the warmth in the air seems to condense into this one, single kiss. Kevin lets out a soft sound against my mouth and, suddenly, I realize what's happening. A sudden bolt of wrongness shoots through me, pulling me harshly out of my daze.

Moving purely on instinct, I jolt away. A cold rush of air surrounds me as I pull myself away completely and jump off the couch. Kevin falls back down onto the cushions, no longer supported by my weight. Twisting quickly, I look at him, breathing heavily. My heart is beating a mile a minute.

"What the hell was that?" I demand.

Sitting up straighter on the couch, Kevin blinks at me. He looks like he's just woken up from a dream. He can't look at me for long though. Instead, he stares at the floor. "It was perfect."

His response barely registers. When it does, I push it away forcefully. Every nerve in my body is still firing, telling me I should be doing something other than just standing here and staring dumbly at him. He just kissed me. What am I supposed to do with that?

"You're doing this on purpose," I tell him. My voice is hard. That is the only conclusion I can draw from all of this. Between the party the other night and the time that we've been spending together, I figured I was just paranoid. Or maybe it was some kind of twisted, misguided wishful thinking. Now I'm wondering if he's been trying to drive me crazy on purpose. No wonder I can't seem to get my mind off of him.

He looks up at me. "What do you mean?"

"This." It's all I can do to gesture at him, at the couch, at me. This should be plain enough. "I don't know why you keep doing this."

A half hour ago, I felt happy and comfortable. Now I feel like a wreck, all of my careful work over the past six months coming undone.

Kevin says nothing. He just looks at me, tense and unmoving as though waiting for me to do something. Taking a deep breath, I run a hand through my hair and turn away from him. I can't look at him, not now. Not with that look on his face. It only took a few minutes but I'm falling apart at the seams. Everything that I've tried to put behind me feels like it's ready to come bursting out of me whether I want it to or not.

"Do you have any idea how fucking hard you've made things for me?" I ask him. My fingers are flexing against my sides.

"We're friends," he says simply. He isn't acknowledging my question. Not at all.

"We didn't used to be."

We've always said that we were friends, but what I just told him is the truth. Even now, I'm not sure that I could call us friends. I'm not sure what we are, but I'm starting to see that ordinary friendship is something that he and I can never have.

The sound of a breath from the couch tells me that maybe Kevin doesn't like hearing those words.

"I had hoped that would be in the past now," he replies. "I thought that things might be different now that I'm back."

A harsh laugh leaves my throat, and I barely even realize that it's me making that sound. "Now that you're back? Kevin, do you have any idea what it was like when you left?"

That's something we've never talked about. Not even in passing. To be honest, I haven't really talked to anybody about it. I was an absolute wreck of a man and I'm aware of just how bad it was. I remember what it was like to feel as though there was no point or purpose to anything. I remember the amount of effort it took just to go through basic, daily routines. I was barely able to take care of myself. Since I came back from my San Francisco detour, I've made a complete turnaround. I never want to go back to that hollow person I was before. Not for anything.

Very softly, Kevin murmurs, "I think I have some idea."

His voice is surprisingly calm. I wasn't even really expecting an answer. My fingers tighten in my hair as I consider the words. "What do you mean, you have some idea?"

"After I left," he says, "Eli kept me up-to-date. He told me... a little of what was going on. I thought he was exaggerating. I didn't really think it was that bad until I saw you in San Francisco. You were like a ghost."

"I don't want to talk about San Francisco." My response is immediate, snapping. The words burn. I don't mean to sound angry, but somehow the emotion still seems to leak through. This entire conversation is digging into me. I'm upset frustrated and confused. I want to forget that we even started talking like this, but that is impossible.

Behind me, I can hear Kevin breathing evenly. He's calm. He's calm even though I feel like I'm breaking. There's something unsteady about all of this. I feel like there's something I'm missing, something hovering just under the surface of my thoughts as I try to sort out this evening and the past couple of weeks.

"Why are you even hear?" I ask finally. This question feels like the key to everything else. This is what I have been wondering since that first day when I walked into that meeting room and saw him sitting at that table. I've wondered it every day since.

He shifts on the couch, the wood of the frame creaking a little under his slight weight. "I'm here because you invited me," he replies, and it sounds like maybe he's a lot more unhappy than I had thought. Something about the way that he says it makes my heart pound painfully; no matter how upset I am, I don't want him to start crying. He doesn't understand what I'm asking.

"That's not what I mean," I tell him. "Why are you in Korea?"

Standing still is impossible. I need to move. Pacing back and forth, I chance a glance back to the couch. Kevin has curled in on himself. He's hugging one knee to his chest, staring at the floor with an unhappy look on his face. He's shaking.

When he responds, it isn't quick or sudden. He takes several full moments, like he's actually thinking about it. Finally, he says, "I'm here because I wanted another chance.

I can't look at him anymore. "What do you mean, another chance?"

"My life," he says, surprisingly strongly, "hasn't felt right without you in it. Not since I left Korea the first time. Not after you visited me in California. That's why I came back; I needed to find you."

Those words throw me completely off-kilter. Rather than helping to sort out my confusion, all they do is tick me off.

"After California?" I repeat. "You were the one that walked away. Not me. You decided to put a stop to that."

"I did," he agrees quietly.

My mind feels fuzzy and blank, like I can't quite process anything right. I'm completely lost. I'm not even certain how we got to this point. I only know that I can't let this go any further. Maybe this discussion needed to happen, but I don't think that I have anything else to say right now.

All of the air in me leaves in a single, heavy sigh. "I think you need to leave now."

"Can we talk about this?"

"There's nothing to talk about, Kevin."

I need a heavy breath to steady myself. I don't even know why I'm still thinking about everything he has said. There really isn't anything to say or talk about. He says that he came out here to find me, but I don't believe it. He's the one that walked out. Not me. And even if he did mean it, even if he wanted something, it wouldn't matter. It's too late.

I take a step towards the door, ready to show him out. His voice stops me. "There is something to talk about. I know there is."

The hand in my hair falls to my side, my fingers flexing into fists. "Like what?"

"Like us," Kevin says. His voice is still soft, but I can hear the words clearly. "We never talked about us."

"There is no us." A pause as I realize the truth of the words. It's more than that. "There never has been. Even if there was, there isn't now. I'm with someone else now. I've got a girlfriend. You know that."

Silence.

Then he asks, "Do you love her?"

Those four words are electricity as they cut through the confusion and uncertainty clouding my mind. My chest aches as I find myself suffering from a different kind of confusion entirely. This is a question I don't want to think about, and I don't really want to answer. Why does it matter? My personal life doesn't concern him.

"It doesn't matter," I tell him. I don't like how shaky my voice sounds. "And you need to leave."

Ignoring me, Kevin speaks up. "It doesn't matter? Of course it matters."

"Why?" I wish he would just go ahead and leave. Then maybe I could deal with my own thoughts and everything he is managing to stir up. I don't like this sudden uncertainty that has cropped up in my heart. I don't like this discussion.

"Jaeseop, I've watched you. Ever since I came back, I've tried to find some chance to talk to you, or say something, or... anything." The words are halted. I've never heard him sound so determined. So frustrated. "She's around you so much that it's kind of hard to miss her. That's part of why I haven't said anything, but... when I watch the two of you, it's like something is missing. Even when you're standing next to her, you're a mile away. She might be happy, but you're not even there. It's like there's a hole you don't even know is there. So I need to know. Do you love her?"

Somehow, I've never been able to lie to Kevin. Apparently, even when I'm not saying a word to him, the truth still comes out. But right now, I can't think about that and I can't think about my girlfriend. Not with this conversation, not with my thoughts swimming. My heart is beating so heavily in my chest that it's a wonder he can't hear it. I feel as though I have been cornered and I don't understand why. He is asking me a question. Why is it so hard to answer?

"I don't know," I tell him finally. "Whether I do or don't, though, it doesn't matter."

His turn to ask. "Why?"

"I've already told you. It's too late." It takes me a second to swallow down the doubt that comes with those words as I say them. There's a part of me that wishes I was wrong. I wish there wasn't, but there you have it. "I'm set. I've got my girlfriend, my apartment. I'm leaving for Columbia in a few months. You made your choice. You turned around and walked out of that hotel room in San Francisco. That was your choice. Now I'm making mine."

It's not so much a response or an explanation as it is a rush of words. They feel like plastic on my tongue. I don't need to turn around and see the look on his face to know that he can hear how fake they sound. I should say something else, try to make it more final. I can't. The more I think about what I've just said, the more I wish I could take it back and say something else instead.

Kevin says nothing, and I can't find the right words. Rather than continue with what I was saying, I ask another question. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

More silence, and I'm halfway tempted to turn around and look at him, like maybe that would make this dialogue easier. I don't, focusing instead on a small ding in my wall so that I won't be tempted.

"Because I thought that maybe you still wanted me," he says after a moment. "When I first got back, I thought that you had moved on. That maybe... I had made a mistake."

I shift uneasily, feeling the floor under my feet. We've both made mistakes, and yet somehow I'm still listening to what he's telling me. I may not want to hear this, but I think some part of me has thought something similar even if I wish I hadn't.

"You're making a mistake right now," I breathe. "I have moved on."

I can still hear him breathing. It isn't unsteady or nervous, not like I expect. He's still completely confident as he continues. "I thought so," he tells me. "But the more time I spend around you, the more I wonder if maybe you haven't. That's why I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to ask if you still... feel that way. About me. I need to know, Jaeseop."

My heart leaps at those words, sending a stab of emotion through me entirely without warning. This is deja vu reversed for me. How many years have I spent chasing after him, trying to get him to give me a chance? So many years of being turned down in favor of someone else, or because he felt uncomfortable, or just because. I'm still hurting from that, and more so now that he's managed to dig up all of those feelings again. It's like no time has passed at all. This time, though, it's not me begging him for a chance. He's sitting here patiently, asking me if I still care for him. Telling me that he wants me. Wanting to know if I want him, too.

There are all of these words floating in the air, but I just can't buy it. My situation aside, every particle in my body that wants him to mean it just can't believe what he's saying. Kevin has never cared enough to ask. He has never cared enough to pursue me the way that I pursued him. To me, this just feels like him trying to get his way again. Maybe trying to fix something that feels off to him or something. I don't know, but I can't -- and won't -- give in.

"I don't buy it." Clearing my throat, I turn around to look at him. Not all the way, but enough that I can actually see his face while I explain myself. "Kevin, when you walked out, you didn't even look back. Six months. You haven't called, not even since you came back to Korea. You never texted. You never sent me a message anywhere. You just left and that was it. Why should I believe you now?"

"I..." Kevin stop. His face turns down, staring at my floor with more emotion than I have seen on his face in months. He restarts his sentence once, then again. Finally, he seems to find the words that he is looking for. "You're right. I'm sorry. I probably should have called. Eli gave me your number, and I must have picked up the phone a dozen times. I dialed the numbers. I just couldn't... complete the call."

"Why?" Maybe I shouldn't ask, but I need to know.

"Words don't really mean much." He says that like he's talking about what he's saying now, too, and maybe he is. "I shouldn't have walked out. I knew that the minute the door closed behind me, but I couldn't admit it. And when I could, it was already too late. I wanted to show you that I mean what I say. That I'm serious. You... you took a chance coming out to see me in San Francisco. I wanted to repay that. I wanted to show you that this isn't just... me acting on impulse. So I did what you suggested."

My arms fold themselves over my chest. "What are you talking about?"

"Why do you think I left California?" he asks, finally looking away from the floor. He meets my eyes. "You told me to cut ties with my company and come back to Korea. So that's what I did."

My stomach turns a little, realizing everything that his words imply. Maybe that declaration of intent and trust should make me feel better and make me want to trust him, but it doesn't. It just makes me want to pull away. Too late. It's way too late for any of this, for this conversation and everything that I am feeling right now.

I feel as though I have just run out of everything. I have run out of emotions, of thoughts, of words. All of those things have been used up in the heartache poring through my veins, mixed with confusion and the sense that I have somehow bypassed an opportunity I never seriously considered.

He is right. I know that he is. I want him. I have always wanted him. I probably always will. Having him near me makes my heart feel as though a missing piece has fallen into place, like he's always been right there. There's no point in saying otherwise. There's no point in even telling him no. Realization matters little. I have my girlfriend now. We've been together almost since I got back, and this thing with Kevin...

Suddenly, I remember something important. "Aren't you dating Eli?"

I realize that I'm staring at the floor. Pulling my eyes back up to Kevin, I think back to the conversation at the party. The one that haunts me. That, and the phone call the other night. Eli had said that he was at the theater with Kevin. They were on a date, and yet he's still here talking to me like this. While Kevin might be nosing in on my relationship right now, but I've never known him to cheat on someone. Well, except when I was in San Francisco. But that's... different. That wasn't Eli.

Kevin's eyebrows turn up in confusion as he sits up a little. "Dating Eli? I'm not dating Eli. Why?"

"Because you're... dating Eli," I say dumbly. I don't know why he's so confused. "You guys were out at a theater watching a movie. The way he was talking..."

"We aren't dating," Kevin says. He still sounds just as confused as I feel. "We're just friends."

"Oh."

"I had a crush on Eli, what, three or four years ago? But that was a long time ago," he tells me. The look on his face tells me that he'd kind of like to ask what prompted the question, but he doesn't. He's just looking at me like he'd answer anything else I asked, too. Like he's waiting for me.

Waiting for me to, what, make a decision? I don't really have a decision to make. He already knows that I'm with someone else. It's not like anything he says is enough to change that.

Except... maybe it is. That's something I don't want to think about. I can't think about it. Despite myself, I am considering what he's saying. Logic tells me that I should show him the door. What I really want, though, is to just sit next him on the couch and enjoy being near him. More than that, there's a large part of me that wants to ignore this entire conversation. I just want to be able to sit next to him and talk. I can't remember the last time we talked, not like this. Not openly and honestly. I like this feeling of having no barriers between us, like I could ask him anything or say anything. This makes me want to pull him into my arms and agree with everything that he's suggesting. No, not suggesting. Asking for.

Warm fingers on my hand pull me out of my thoughts. Standing slightly, Kevin takes my hand, pulling it away from my chest. Before I can realize what I'm doing, I reach out and tangle our fingers together. His hand is soft.

Keeping his hold on my hand, Kevin sinks back onto the couch cushions. He's looking me straight in the eye and I can't seem to look away.

"I want to be yours again," he tells me. I've never heard him sound so sincere. Not even that one night. "I have wanted that ever since the day I walked out. I was afraid then, but I'm not afraid anymore."

Just like that, all of those emotions that I've been trying to hold back come to the forefront. My confusion is gone, replaced by a feeling like my heart is bleeding. I can feel his fingers on mine, their soft warmth holding my hand and giving me the strength that I don't have. My eyes are starting to burn and I'm suddenly afraid that I'm going to start crying. I can't do this. I can't, because I can't make that mistake again. I can't take it. We shouldn't even be having this conversation.

I am falling apart at the seams as I repeat that like to myself over and over, like a mantra. His words have hit home with me in a way that nothing else has. I need to deal with that, but I can't let myself fall to pieces while he's still here.

"Kevin, I think you need to leave," I tell him again. I pull my hand back, feeling his fingers tighten on mine for a second before I pull free and step away from him. "You can see yourself out."

A quick glance at his leg and I already feel regret. I should at least offer to drive him home, but I don't. Kevin doesn't move to stand. He doesn't move at all. "Please talk about this, Jaeseop."

"There is nothing to talk about," I reply, turning away a little more. We are repeating ourselves now. Nothing more.

"There is everything to talk about." His voice sounds so clear. "We never really talked about what happened in San Francisco."

At that, I turn around to look at him again. "We didn't? Kevin, what do you think we just did?"

"Why didn't you come after me?" he asks suddenly. "You say I walked out, and I did, but you never came after me. Why, Jaeseop? If it meant that much, why did you just let me walk away?"

"After so long chasing you," I reply, my voice hard with the emotion behind it, "there's only so much I can take. You walked away and it wasn't the first time, but it damn sure was the last."

I'm not angry, not really, but bitterness still colors those words. My heart hurts from all of this, and those feelings are only winding tighter at his words. He's right in that we haven't talked about everything. Maybe we should, but I can't deal with it right now even though there's a part of me that needs to do just that. I want to tell him how much it hurt me that he walked away, how screwed up I was before and how much it hurts to have him here right now. But if I give into that, I'm never going to get anywhere. No matter how much I might want to give into him, I can't. I've moved on, and if I keep going back to our conversation, I'll lose myself to him again.

"You were asking for too much!" Those words are equally forceful from him, and they're something I've never heard before. He cuts me off completely, stopping my thoughts in their tracks. "You asked me to leave my job, my entire life behind, just for a chance with you. We hadn't even been together for a day, Jaeseop! I hadn't even had time to get used to the... the idea of you. Of being with you. One day, that's it, and you were asking for everything. Do you have any idea how frightening that was for me?"

No. No, I really don't. A chill races down my spine, and I realize he has a point. Though the memories are slightly faded, I remember him trying to turn the tables and telling me to leave Korea the same way that I was asking him to leave the States. At the time, I was baffled and slightly offended. Now, I'm actually considering how it must have sounded.

He doesn't wait for me to respond. He just looks up at me and rubs one of his hands with the other. "I wanted... what you were asking for. All of it, but I needed... a little time. It was just too much. Too fast. One step at a time, that's all I'm saying. Can you understand that?"

"I didn't want too much." The words are out of my mouth before I realize it, and his eyes widen incrementally. He didn't expect me to say that. I didn't, either. Taking a breath, I know there's no point in holding back now. "I... don't want too much."

Wide-eyed, Kevin licks his lips. "How do you mean?"

"I just wanted..." I pause, hearing my blood rushing in my ears. I was trying to avoid actually talking about this. Now that I am, though, it feels like a massive weight has lifted off of my shoulders. This is a relief. "I just wanted... an actual relationship. Not random nights talking once and a while, or text messages, or Facetime. I just wanted... you."

I've said it, the thing that I have been trying not to think about ever since he cuddled up to my side on the couch. Maybe even before that. I want him. I still want him more than anything, and now he knows it, too. That admission is the most honest thing I've said in months. Somehow, he always seems to find the truth with me.

"You had me," he tells me, and somehow the words are much weaker than his earlier declarations. They're sad and faded. "You still do, if you'll give me a chance."

"I know you're frustrated. Or at least you were. Right now, I don't have a clue what you're thinking. And I know that what happened had to be difficult for you, but I don't understand why everything had to happen all at once." He reaches for my hand again, and there's no point in fighting it as he takes hold of my fingers. I don't return the hold. "Can you tell me?"

"I don't know why," I admit. Giving up trying to avoid him, I meet his eyes once more and he gives me the smallest smile. "I really don’t. You're just... incredibly frustrating sometimes."

"You can be pretty frustrating, too, you know." That small smile on his lips gets just a bit wider. It vanishes after moment, replaced by a serious look. "But you can't have everything at once."

"I know that."

"I'm not used to giving anything," he continues, "let alone everything."

His face turns red, and despite myself I know exactly what he's thinking about. My thoughts our drawn back to the same thing: our night together. Regardless of how bad the fallout was the next day when we tried to sort things out, that night really was perfect. He really did give me everything.

Despite our argument, I feel a pulse of warmth in my chest. There's still a painful twinge there, too, my heart hurting more than I want to admit, but it's not hateful. I just wish that we had never screwed thus up so much. Everything that has happened is a mistake. A mistake, and I still want to fix it.

Swallowing down my emotions, I tell him, "I... didn't mean to ask for too much. With you, I just don't know how to..." I have no idea how to explain this. I've just been around him so long that I wasn't sure how to start a relationship with someone I had been in love with for years. "I don't know how to do things with you."

My explanation makes no sense. That irritates me slightly. Here we are talking and I can't even explain myself properly. He just looks at me, taking in my words. Is this how people are supposed to fight? I have no idea. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Not a discussion like this.

Kevin's fingers flex on my own. "I think I understand."

I'm not sure how, but I can't even ask. I'm stuck in my own thoughts and in our conversation. Turning my hand a little, I feel his fingers under mind. We stay like that for more than a minute.

Quietly, he asks, "Do you still want me to leave?"

He's asking a lot more than just that. He's asking if I want to resolve our fight. He's asking if I will give in and give him the chance that he is asking for. Calmer now, I can consider everything that he has said. I can't deny that he's right. What happened in California, we both screwed up. We've had enough time and distance that I can recognize that fact. Clearly, he does, too. He still wants me. He may even still love me.

And I can't do this. Maybe several months ago, I could have. Not anymore.

"I'm sorry." My hand is pulled away once more, hanging limply by his side. "I can't do this."

"Why?" His voice is quiet, resigned. I think maybe he was expecting me to say something like that.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts. This is what I've never told him. What I've needed to tell him. "That first time when you left, when you went to San Francisco..."

"Yes?"

"I didn't handle that very well." The understatement of the year. "That nearly destroyed me. Maybe he told you, I don't know, but I was barely alive. I could hardly get through every day.

"Seeing you in San Francisco... that was a breath of fresh air. And, god, I needed that. You have no idea how much."

Kevin takes a deep breath, shifting forward slightly on the couch. I can't look at him anymore. Pulling my eyes away, I continue. "But I can't do this. If you walk away again, fly away, whatever, it'll be the end of me.

"You told me that you hadn't even had a day to think about us as us in California. And that's what this is, too. You're here telling me all of this, but you don't even know what I'd want, even if I could consider saying yes."

"Then tell me," he says quietly. "Jaeseop, I'm not going to leave. Not this time."

I can't seem to keep myself on my feet anymore. Taking a step towards him, I sink into the empty spot on the couch beside him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Kevin, I can't consider this. You know I can't." I know that I sound frustrated, and I feel it, too. "I would want a relationship. A real relationship. Not a night in a hotel, or six months without a phone call, or you just walking away. I would want to know that you are mine. I wouldn't want to hide it. Not all the time, not forever."

"Jaeseop--"

"That's what I want. And you can't promise me that. You haven't even thought about it, not really. Maybe you've... thought about it, but not since we've talked. Not since tonight."

When I fall silent, Kevin reaches over and places one of his hands on my knee. "You're right, but I'm already sure. I'm not going to leave. There's a reason I'm here, Jaeseop. In Korea. In your apartment."

I wish I could believe him. I want that more than anything right now, but I can't.

"I'm sorry." That is all I can say. "I think it's time for you to go now. For real. And... I don't think you should come back."

That comes out a lot more harshly than I intended. I wince as the words hit my ears, but it's too late to take them back. Even though that might be painful for both of us, I know it's for the best. I can't do this, not when he's just acting on impulse again. Not when he hasn't actually considered any of this. He has no idea what he is saying, and god how I wish he did.

Kevin pulls his hand away from my leg. I told my own hands into my lap, trying to distance myself even though he is only inches from me. Fixing my eyes on the floor in front of me, I feel rather than see him shift on the couch cushions beside me. I figure he's getting to his feet, but instead I am surprised by the soft press of fingers under my chin, pulling my face to look at him. I'm confused, but that feeling is wiped away entirely as I feel a pair of sweet, warm lips against mine.

This feels like a last kiss. This is the good-bye I never got in San Francisco, and I need it. His hand slides up my jaw and I don't even try to resist, tilting my head to pour everything that I am feeling into this one touch. For a single moment, all of my thoughts are wiped away in the dizzying taste of his lips and mouth, and then he pulls back and reality crashes down with stunning clarity.

He pulls away and gets to his feet. Every nerve in my body is shouting at me to reach out and catch hold of his hand, to pull him back to me and not let him walk away from me again. But this has to happen. He has to leave. He has to leave so I can sort through my own thoughts before I lose my mind completely.

I turn my eyes back to the floor and focus on trying to remember to breathe. Even that seems almost impossible. I can see his feet out of the corner of my eye. His ankle. He shouldn't be walking on it, let alone waiting for a cab or one of our friends.

"I can drive you home," I tell him.

Kevin's hand lightly touches me on the shoulder, then he pulls back as if burned. "Don't bother."

I should protest, but I can't. Or just don't, I'm not really sure. "Okay."

I have no idea who's going to give him a ride. I'm not sure why I care. I don't really want him to leave.

There's a heavy breath as Kevin rearranges something on the coffee table, apparently fishing for something of his. Then, he asks, "You really mean it, don't you?"

"What?"

"Not to come back unless I've thought about it," he says quietly. "You don't think I mean it."

The words swim through my thoughts, barely registering. "I meant it."

Those feet vanish from my view as he walks towards the door. I can hear the floor creaking, and still I don't look up. There is a shuffling sound as he pulls his shoes back on and gathers his things.

"Good bye, Jaeseop," he murmurs, barely loud enough for me to hear. The door opens and closes. And then there's nothing but silence. Kevin is gone.