It was a moment of brief clarity.
Our relationship, his and my relationship, and the relationship I maintained with you.
It all made sense over the span of mere seconds.
It was a moment of brief clarity.

I’ve never liked lying.

I don’t think anyone does. The change they exhibit over time accounts for some of that dislike. Little ones become big. White ones turn black. But it’s a kind of necessary evil.

Lying is one of many human defense mechanisms. In order to avoid shame. Injuries to pride. Even more injurious attacks on character.

At least, the good thing about them is the way they start.

Small. Brief. Insignificant.

I’d say those adjectives encompass what this entire day was for me.

Small. Brief. Insignificant.

Firstly comes small.

It was small, the gesture he was giving by showing up at our dorm room, Sara’s and I’s, a plastic bag in his hands and an inquiring smile on his face. It was still chilly outside, April’s end proving to promise a colder than usual beginning to summer. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again.

Cold weather prompts the beginning of warm relationships. Because you seek out people who can act as your own winter clothing. Because you search for the one person who acts as your personal heater. Because it makes us lonely.

Was Baekhyun lonely, then? Within these past few months I’ve known him, I wouldn’t place him as the type to desperately search for companionship. Then again, who am I to judge? Who says he’s desperate? Who says Sara wasn’t exactly who he was waiting for as the cold fronts first began to blow in?

“Sara’s not here, is she?” He asked, still smiling even though it was obvious. His pride had been bruised by her many rebuttals in face of his desires to spend time with her. She says she’s not sure. She says she’s only known him for a whole of three weeks. She says that’s not long enough to know if she truly “likes” him.

But when is long enough, Sara? When has it been long enough that you can return humble, sarcastic, good-natured Baekhyun’s smile with one of your own? He’s no Casanova that sweeps you off your feet, you say. He’s a good boy, the kind you don’t have to worry about, you say. But a little danger is always exciting, you say. And you don’t know if you’re ready for something serious, you say.

Excuses.

Lies.

I gave Baekhyun then what she asked me to: a lie and an excuse.

“She went out a long while ago for some junk food. She’s been having hankering cravings for salty things lately.”

She left right after he called ten or so minutes ago. Though, she has been craving sea salt chips lately. And dried squid. Lots of dried squid.

“Will she be back soon?” He asks, urging me with those big brown eyes of his. Pleading with me to give him the truth. Because he needed to hear it. And, honestly, I wanted to tell it to him. To tell him that she wouldn’t come back until I texted her that he was gone. To tell him that next time, he should show up unannounced, catch her unaware, and kidnap her before riding off into the sunset.

Romantically.

Cliché filled.

And yet the idea itself made me wish fairytales were true.

Made me imagine him as the justly prince attempting to court the unruly princess who had been avoiding him for over three days now.

I shook my head, much to his disappointment. He resigned to it, however, reaching his hand forward, gesturing me towards the bag in his hand. I took it from him, assuming that’s what he wanted me to do. And inside? Inside were various items: chocolate, sour gummies, sweet flavored lollipops, and much more that I couldn’t see with just one peek inside.

Sometimes, eating too much salty food can be bad for you. Sometimes, it can be balanced out by its archenemy: sweets. Sometimes, I wonder how such thoughtful people can exist in this world. Sometimes, I wonder how it is that I’m so fortunate as to be able to meet them.

And, I couldn’t help but ask it then.

The most obvious question.

“Do you like her?”

“I think I do. I really think I do.” He answers, nodding his head as though this isn’t the first time he’s thought about it. And, then, he smiles again, somberly, dejectedly, and I want to tell Sara what an idiot she is for not giving him a chance. To yell at her that if she doesn’t take action, she’ll regret it. And when she starts whining and complaining to me about being “S.S. Forever Alone,” I’ll only remind her of the boy with the straight smile adorned with a birthmark as becoming to him as that faded scar along her hairline.

Of the boy who looked after her when it was still rosy red, the two having coincidentally met at the emergency room: the reason he was there nothing short of Fortune bestowing upon Sara her good graces. Of the boy who cleared his throat then, the look in his eyes so determined to give chase that I wondered why she even ran away in the first place.

“And that’s good enough for me for now.”

He had a long road ahead of him.

Luckily, it appeared as though he rode upon a grand white stallion. His feelings so unwavering, so stubborn, so pure, I only hoped that in the end, there was no tragic plot twist awaiting the two of them.

It was small, his appearance at our doorstep.

It was the beginning of that which was brief, his voice commenting on the fleeting expression I had upon first opening the door for him, “Not that I really need to know, but were you expecting someone else?”

“Not particularly.” I shrugged, hiding beneath my lie. “I just thought Sara came back early and forgot her keys. Which she’s prone to do on more than one occasion.” Buried beneath an excuse.

“I know.”

He laughed.

And he left.

I drummed my fingers against the desk, casting glances at my cellphone by my side, waiting for something I didn’t know when would come. I didn’t know if it’d come at all. I held expectations regarding it, but who was I kidding? He had no obligation to answer me. He had no reason at all to come to my aid unless it be out of the kindness of his heart.

And a part of me doesn’t want to abuse that kindness anymore.

And a part of me wishes he would just hurry up and call me back.

Early today, I had called Chanyeol. I called him to complain and whine and pour my bubbling fountain of thoughts onto him regarding a certain someone. A certain someone I had asked him about on multiple occasions now, for the past month or so. A certain someone named Kim Jongin.

As though both Jongin and Sara had the same idea when it came to solving problems as they arise, he was avoiding me. He had been since that day in the training room, when he couldn’t have seemed happier. Why had it taken me so long to notice? Why had it taken me even one day let alone one month to finally reach my breaking point?

It started off with the small things: missing out on a lunch get-together every now and then. The brief things: forgetting our daily morning dance practice. The insignificant things: not texting me every Saturday night asking if I was craving “insert random food here” as much as he was. Calling me promptly after, asking if I wanted to go out with him in pursuit of said food item.

And then, I realized, at some point, that I hadn’t seen him in over four days. And four days became seven. And seven became ten. And now, we arrive at this point in time.

This point in time in which I couldn’t talk to Sehun; the two were roommates, which made him too close to Jongin for me to be comfortable with discussing matters of our relationship with him. I couldn’t talk to Baekhyun; he had more important matters to deal with involving the S.S. Forever Blind. I couldn’t talk to Sara; she was too busy avoiding her prince charming.

I only had Chanyeol.

Weird of me to think, isn’t it? If the most obvious notion hasn’t occurred to you by now, then you’re as clueless as I was then. If it has, how ironic is it that you get to read about my misconceptions about my very own world in the following lines.

I only had Chanyeol.

I could only call Chanyeol.

Suffice it to say, Chanyeol didn’t answer.

So I left him the longest voicemail I’ve ever left in my life. I went until that woman, asking me if I wanted to review my message, cut me off. I dragged on and on and on, telling him everything, dragging him down with me. And now, I was waiting.

I was waiting for some brilliant words from that even more brilliant mind of his. Wise words. Perfect words. Words that solved all of my problems and more.

I only had Chanyeol.

Because I was too close.

I was too close, hovering over the brink of pure happiness at the very sight of him there, the person behind the knock I promptly answered then. My Superman. My boyfriend. My Lee Taemin. He said something quirky and unfunny as he stood in front of my dorm room’s threshold. I would transcribe it here if only I could remember it. If only I could remember all of his words. His practical, logical, and, at times, comedic words. If only.

Ironically, because I was too close to Taemin, I only had Chanyeol.

Ironically.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” He shook his head in denial, leaning his head back so as to gaze up at the ceiling of off-white above us, “I’ve never had so much fun watching someone study English Literature.” He laughed to himself about something, something I couldn’t understand, before looking at me again, smiling a rather cynical smile, “Never.”

I turned back down to the readings I had to do regarding “Old English Men” of the eighteenth century, that I specifically rejected his help with for fear of understanding the minds of said men much better than I would like, pursing my lips as I shifted in my seat at the desk Sara and I bought last summer, “I don’t believe you.”

He seemed to grow dissatisfied by my lack of a response. Which, honestly, he couldn’t blame me for. I was studying before he got here and he’s the one who told me it was okay to continue – if you count studying as being distracted by my phone at my side for over twenty minutes. All in all, I suppose all that's changed concerning the situation was that the origin of my distraction was different.

From my phone to Lee Taemin, who sat upon my bed, legs stretched out, seemingly bored and yet not bored at all. Not bored at all, considering the fact that he had done well in entertaining himself since he arrived. First, by making a game of guessing which bed was mine; one he won within mere seconds. Because polka dots didn’t seem like me. Because white sheets and yellow pillowcases represented me to a “T.”

And again, sometimes I wonder how I’ve been able to meet seemingly the most observant people on earth.

“It matches you.” Were his words before he asked if he could take a seat, asking for nothing more afterwards. As though the act of watching me with those almond colored eyes of his, unwavering on my figure to the point where I quite possibly think nothing could have drawn me away from his flawless attempt at distracting me, was really, and truly, the most fun he’s had all day. And, arguably, the most fun he’s had watching someone else study English Literature.

It's funny how easily I believe him. How every piece of evidence supplied to me can point to nothing but utter belief in him. But how can I not?

Every word he says seems to come true, doesn’t it? It’s all so simple there’s no build up of expectations. There’s no need to worry about going days without seeing him. There’s no need to wonder if he’ll call back. Because he will. He’ll seek me out.

Like he did today, with a bag of candy of his own.

Brain food, he called it.

Gets the memory nice and jolted, he explained himself.

But even though I bought this for you, I do expect you to share with me, he reminded me in that joking manner of his.

As he had been subjected to Sara’s leftover salty treats as I had when she got sick of them for the night; the time the three of us spend together increasing in frequency since a few weeks ago. As he was craving the sweet taste that tickles the tip of your tongue and causes laughter to bubble from one’s lips as it bounces off the walls of your throat on its way down to the pit of your stomach. As he was just as cold, if not colder, than I was this late April afternoon.

“Truth be told,” he mused out loud, humming pleasantly to himself, “It’s not called a lie. It’s called embellishing the truth.”

I turned away from my studies, though to say I had completely turned towards them at all today would be a lie, focusing instead on him, who raised an eyebrow, urging me on. Just asking me to challenge his words. To entertain him further. To allow him to distract me for the umpteenth time. So I did.

“Truth be told, you’re twisting both your words and mine.”

He scooted forward on my bed, sitting at the edge right beside me. Our closeness left my lungs aching for air, my mind reeling as I wondered what his intentions were. No. No, that's not it. Not exactly. I more wondered what it was he would say next, because today, words seemed to impact me much more than any gesture could.

I got much more than I bargained for as he abandoned his black and white way of thinking; something he'd been doing as of late. As he willingly gave himself up to the grey side of things. As he smiled that smile of his, lips tinted bright pink by the sweets we had eaten together just moments before, framing a pair of shining white teeth that parted to say, "Maybe I am?"

A question.

An ambiguous answer.

Sue me for believing in him once more. Berate me for any and all words I could have said in response tumbling over each other, not a single one winning over the other. Call it a crime to be this infatuated with him.

I'm a certified criminal.

And that's something I won't reject even now.

Just like the kiss he meant to give me as he leaned forward, balancing his palms on the rim of my bed, a soft head of black feathers brushing against my forehead before I pulled back. Before I remembered something important. Something I couldn't simply put off – lest I forget it again.

“I forgot to call Sara.”

I leaned away, reaching to grab my cellphone from the right corner of the desk, almost causing it to slide off the wooden surface and fall onto the floor in the attempt. Taemin had distracted me much more than I intended to. Much more than I anticipated. I had forgotten about Sara, wherever she might have been, for almost an hour now. It had been that long since Baekhyun and left and the sun had almost set completely outside. Which meant, wherever she was, I could only hope it wasn’t far. If it was, I had every intention to go after her so that I could walk her home. So that she wouldn’t be alone.

Turns out, in the end, that she was, indeed, pretty far off campus.

But I didn’t have to go pick her up alone.

Taemin went with me. Hand in hand. Arm in arm. Smile after smile.

But that was after our proceeding conversation then.

“About Baekhyun?” He questioned out loud, as though the entire matter had been divulged to him on some separate occasion from here and now. When I turned to him, away from my phone in my hands, waiting for him to explain, he did, “He’s pretty obvious about it.”

“Isn’t he?” I couldn’t help but laugh imagining Baekhyun in his fancy princely gear, riding upon a white steed, posing courageously on a hillside, “It’s kind of endearing.”

Taemin stood up from my bed, placing a hand on the back of the chair I was sitting in as he leaned down, giving me quite the quizzical look as he stated a fact regarding the situation, avoiding needless questions concerning the “obvious,” “You’re siding with him over your own roommate.”

I shrugged, drawing my eyes away from my phone for a moment once more, turning my head up towards him for a single moment, and I . I whilst pulling off my slyest of smiles, “Maybe I am.”

And there it was again, that smile of his in return. That smile that disappeared just as quickly as it bloomed on his face, Spring passing much too quickly for my liking. Summer arriving in the form of the heat that I felt as he leaned forward swiftly, before I could object, and placed a kiss on my cheek. It effectively flushed as a result as I had almost forgotten what his lips felt like.

Warm. Soft. Slightly sticky – an after effect of the candy he had brought over. It’s not often he kisses me. And, usually, spare the one time when he appeared green before my very eyes, it’s only there. There, on the expanse of skin below my eye that leaves me wanting more. But I dare not ask for it. Rather I didn’t even think to.

I was thoroughly distracted by him.

So then, it’s safe to say I didn’t regret the end of Spring coming so quickly. Not then, anyway.

When he pulled away, I was momentarily preoccupied with the act of watching him sit back down on my bed, grinning like a fool. Whether it was my own foolish smile, however, that he was mirroring, or his grin that I imitated to the point in which my cheeks began to ache, I’m not sure. All I can remember is that smile. All I could remember was that smile until I looked down again.

And I saw that I had one missed call from Sara and two text messages from none other than the, at this point in time, infamous Chanyeol.

Having Taemin over when there were other things to be attending to wasn’t the brightest idea. Though, that wouldn’t stop him from coming over or me from letting him in in the future.

I clicked on the messages Chanyeol had sent me, the first reading, “I never took Psychology.”

And I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at that.

The second, however, seemed to suggest the exact opposite of that statement. The second message contained in it everything I wanted from him. Wise words from a wise mind. Wise words that would somehow solve everything. Wise words that, had they been told to me by anyone else, I sometimes wonder if I would have thought them as wise at all.

The second message read as such:

“You and Kai are like two light bulbs on a collision course.”

It isn’t a wonder that I didn’t understand what he meant. It isn’t a wonder that I turned to the person at my side, posing to him the question I had regarding the words too wise for my mind to comprehend. It isn’t a wonder that he had a practical, logical, and overall reasonable answer.

“Taemin.” I let my eyes flutter between the message and him, the uncertainty of whether to ask or not failing to rise within me in the least, “What happens when two light bulbs collide?”

He didn’t even have to think about it. As though the question shouldn’t have been a question at all. As though it were obvious. He said, as plain as the sun in the summer sky, “They shatter. Both are too fragile to survive the impact.”

And that was it.

A brief moment of clarity. A brief moment in which it all seemed to make sense. A brief moment hidden behind the insignificance of a late night visit by Taemin; only one of many from there on out.

We were two light bulbs swinging towards each other on a collision course, Jongin and I.

We were small. We shone only briefly. When together, the need for another is insignificant.

I had to swing away.

For his sake, and for mine.

Because we were fragile.

And, ultimately, neither of us would survive the impact.