𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋

SIX

Oscar Wilde was the one who said 'hearts are made to be broken', 'that's why there's sorrow into the world'. Sian wasn't sure how that felt before, sadly, however, now he does. The feeling of deep distress caused by his disappointment and misfortune, which he was forced to suffer in alone.

Open up, tell someone.

Tell them what. That's he's madly in love with his two best friends. That he will probably die alone. That he has to suffer as the only single one for eternity. That at night he sits and wishes he will wake up in a alternate universe, where his friends weren't, where it was him, his parents, and a whole other life.

Maybe he was being dramatic.

Maybe he should just get over it.

"Sian, breakfast!" His father shouted, making him groan loudly. This morning he was pulled out of bed by his dad, and forced to take a shower, while his father laid out his clothes for the day. He was clearly tired, exhausted even, but they didn't care. It was his choice to stay out all night, and he had to reap the consequences. He liked that that's how they were, respectful of his decisions, but didn't allow him to get away from them. They were the perfect parents, stern and tough, but loving and joyful. Smiling to himself, he practically bounced into the kitchen, making his father jump. "What's got you so excited?" A toothy grin followed, and Sian couldn't help but engulf him in a hug. When he sat and thought about it, he didn't think his parents truly knew how much he loved them.

"Just love you, mama." Kun smiled and returned the hug, rubbing his sons back gently. "I love you too, baby."

"What about your other old man?" Hansol questioned, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "I sorta love you, I guess." Sian laughed, being pulled into a quick, tighter hug by his dad. "He's definitely your son, kid."

"It's almost as if we made him."

Would he get this? Playful mornings with his family, a son or a daughter joking with him, a partner (maybe multiple) laughing along with him. He hated that you couldn't tell the future. That you didn't have any idea what awaited you in the future, you just had to sit and wait. Wait for something you may love, you may hate. Maybe even wait for the day to come where you realise you never did anything with your life, and you lay still on your death bed, surrounded by loneliness, regretting everything. If he could know, and he was told that he would be happy, he'd be contempt. If he was told he'd move into a detached house with two specific boys, where they'd sleep and eat, watch their children grow, play fetch with their dog in the garden, snuggle up with their cat in rainy days. He wanted to know if he'd be happy. He wanted to know if they'd be there.

What if they weren't?

Sian has only ever wanted them to be happy. Together or not. He just wanted to see them smile. But he didn't ever want to apart from it. He'd fight tooth and nail if it meant he could watch each of their eyes light up and sparkle. If it meant just leaving them to it, being the cool uncle who teaches their kids curses and gives them their first sips of alcohol, then he'd do that.