the color blue (for EVERYONE) [2/2]
He sees Jongdae in the halls for the first time. Classes have ended for the day and almost all of the students have already gone home. Joonmyun’s still in the building, carrying files for one of his teachers to the office. He’s always stuck with the worst responsibilities.
“Princess,” Jongdae greets quietly, an amused smirk on his lips. The hallway is empty save for the two of them but Jongdae’s as reserved as ever. A flicker of recognition, however, passes over his face. “Why so glum?”
“I’m not,” Joonmyun says defensively, immediately. “Look, I’m busy and I can’t afford to talk right now. Sorry.” He’s not the most eloquent liar and he’s also not the greatest with balance, evident by how quickly the pile of papers he’s holding falls to the ground as soon as he stumbles once. The papers go flying and Joonmyun ends up on the ground, unpleasantly disgruntled and extremely humiliated.
“Right,” Jongdae replies smoothly. He doesn’t even laugh or make a joke, simply squatting down on the ground to grab the papers closest to him. He doesn’t say a word, actually, even while Joonmyun shoots him sideways glances to gauge the expression on his face.
When the papers are gathered and the both of them are on their feet again, Jongdae wordlessly extends his pile to Joonmyun.
“Thanks,” he replies guiltily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
“I know,” comes the steady response. There’s a slight smile on Jongdae’s face now. “Do you want me to help you carry this stuff?”
It must be a rhetorical question because Jongdae’s already on his way, walking down the hall with a sense of unfounded purpose, Joonmyun scrambling behind him.
“Do you even know where these files are going?” Joonmyun demands, huffing.
“No,” Jongdae confesses with an unaffected shrug. “But I figured if I look confident enough, you’ll feel compelled to guide me sooner or later.” He keeps walking.
Joonmyun feels a little indignant but he does end up weaving in front of Jongdae to take the lead. The files are due at the front office where a paper tray’s already been laid out by the teacher who requested them. He carefully sets his pile of papers in the tray and waits for Jongdae to follow suit. And Jongdae does-by tossing his own pile on top of Joonmyun’s, flippant as always.
“Do you always do extra work like this?” Jongdae inquires, jamming his hands into his pockets and shooting a wayward glance at Joonmyun.
“Kind of. Whenever they ask me to. I don’t want to be rude and say no.”
“You’re afraid of saying no?”
“No, I mean, yes. But-no, wait.” Joonmyun pauses. “I don’t like… disappointing people?” He rubs the back of his neck, like he’s given the wrong answer in calculus class or something. He doesn’t know why he keeps fumbling over his words so much around Jongdae.
“Riiiiight.”
He doesn’t really know where he’s going from here. He’d bummed a ride from Baekhyun in the morning but heaven knows that that’s an encounter Joonmyun’s going to be saving for a rainy, hopeless day. The walk home isn’t too bad, anyways, and he figures it’s what he had coming for making the conversation so fucking awkward this morning.
“Where ya’ headed?”
“Oh.” Joonmyun blinks. “Home, I guess. You? Do you have… uh, work?” He toys with the sleeves of his blazer.
Jongdae peels off his own blazer, swinging it over his shoulder with practiced ease. “Not today,” he replies, digging in his pocket to pull out a worn-out pack of gum. He flimsily tugs out the last piece and unwraps it, biting off one half. He looks at Joonmyun blankly before extending the other half, hovering it in front of Joonmyun’s lips. “It’s peppermint.”
“Uh, no-I… don’t. Um.”
“It already touched your lips.”
Joonmyun stares at Jongdae questionably before gingerly plucking the piece of gum from Jongdae’s fingers and popping it into his mouth. He chews.
“So you’re not busy?” Jongdae asks, gesturing lackadaisically to the unaccompanied spaces next to Joonmyun. He figures Jongdae’s referring to Baekhyun and Kyungsoo. “Awesome. Then we’re on our way, princess. Time for you to step out of your comfort zone.” He smiles again, mischief etched at the corners of his lips. He reaches across and hooks his index finger into the belt loop of Joonmyun’s pants. “You aren’t scared, are you?
--
There are areas in Seoul that once housed bustling neighborhoods decades ago, before the city was attacked and before the city lost its color. They’re not popular locations because there isn’t much to see. There’s still debris from the 2017 attacks and the rumor is that Seoul keeps it around as a reminder of what awaits if they stray from the path the government has set for them.
Joonmyun stands in front of an abandoned, half-demolished house with a sense of trepidation.
“It doesn’t look pretty,” Jongdae agrees, as though reading Joonmyun’s thoughts. He shrugs his shoulders. “It isn’t that pretty inside either, but it’s sturdy. It’s alive.”
“Why did you bring me here?” Joonmyun murmurs listlessly, distracted by the sight before him. He isn’t sure what to feel. There’s something eerie about this whole area. It’s shrouded from the public’s eyes-the house is in the very back of an otherwise abandoned lot filled with mounds of presumably destroyed houses and buildings of the past.
“Because it’s unregulated.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s unregulated. What do you not understand about the Korean language?” Jongdae raises a brow and Joonmyun refrains from punching him. “C’mon, princess. Let’s go inside. Unless you want me to carry you in so the soles of your expensive shoes don’t touch the blood-stained dirt.”
Joonmyun looks mildly disgusted. Jongdae looks at him with a smirk and extends his arms jokingly.
“I’m fine,” Joonmyun says huffily. “And you’re an asshole.”
“Guilty as charged.”
They enter the house through the back and Joonmyun finds it funny that Jongdae chooses to use the door instead of walking in through the gaping hole twice the door’s size right next to it. Something about common courtesy, according to Jongdae, who merely shrugs and gestures for Joonmyun to enter first.
The inside is not much better than the outside but there are blankets spread out across the damaged flooring in a relatively preserved part of the house. Joonmyun looks back at Jongdae, questioning him with his eyes and Jongdae shrugs again.
“I come here a lot. Sue me.”
“I could,” Joonmyun warns teasingly. “I could report you.”
“You could,” Jongdae agrees with a smile. “But you won’t.”
And Joonmyun doesn’t know why that makes his stomach churn.
Jongdae leads him to the blankets, letting Joonmyun take a seat while he goes to grab something from beneath a floorboard. He pulls out a thick, leather bound book as big as his chest. There’s a wary glint in Jongdae’s eyes that fades quickly as he approaches Joonmyun with it.
“What is it?”
“Impatient, aren’t you?” He settles down next to Joonmyun, sitting so close that their knees are touching-though Joonmyun tries to ignore it. He places the book in front of the both of them, opening it carefully and blowing at the dust that’s accumulated.
There are pictures. It’s a photo album, with each photograph laminated carefully. There are dates scrawled next to each one, some of them going back as far as 2000.
“Who is this?” Joonmyun asks quietly, finger hovering over a picture of a beautiful young woman being kissed on the cheek by a smiling young man. The woman has a hand on her stomach and there’s a bulge. She’s pregnant. They’re a couple. The date reads May 2016 next to it.
“Her?” Jongdae clarifies. He looks at Joonmyun, expression impossible to read. “Kim Hwajung.”
Joonmyun freezes. “Kim Hwajung?” he repeats.
“Yeah.” He brushes a thumb across the date. “My great-grandmother.”
“The Kim Hwajung that-”
“Yeah,” Jongdae interjects. “The Kim Hwajung that presumably jumpstarted the hellhole we currently live in.”
Joonmyun is silent.
“Framed,” Jongdae murmurs quietly. He looks down at the picture, brushing aside some remaining dust from the page it’s on. “Or so the family legend goes.” He flips through the pages meticulously, stopping to focus on another particular picture. “This one. The last picture she ever took before her live interrogation.”
She’s holding an infant in her arms, still bundled in blankets, and beaming at the camera. Joonmyun wants to throw up.
“Is this a joke?” he demands. He feels his stomach doing flips and he doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to move away. There’s something about Jongdae that messes with everything that Joonmyun’s come to know as right. “You’re kidding, right? This is a joke? Tell me this is a fucking joke, Jongdae.” The desperation bleeds through his voice and he’s almost angry, almost irate when Jongdae looks at him with an unchanged expression.
“Are you going to report me?”
Joonmyun hates that he can’t read Jongdae at all. “No,” he spits out. “I’m not going to fucking report you because-because… no!” He should report Jongdae. He’s the mayor’s damn son and he has a moral obligation elevated above everyone else’s to report this to someone but… he can’t. He can’t because he wants to know more. He wants Jongdae to keep talking, to keep spoiling Joonmyun with things he’d never asked for in the first place.
“You can,” Jongdae offers as he moves to close the album. “If you want to, you can.”
Joonmyun stops him. He points at another picture shakily. She’s kissing the man in this one. They’re smiling into the kiss. “This was before people were assigned partners? Before they had to undergo the procedure?”
“Yeah,” is the quiet reply. “Genuinely in love.”
“This was what destroyed Seoul.”
There’s a pause and Jongdae smiles, bitterly. “No, Joonmyun. Seoul destroyed Seoul.”
“Why are you showing this to me?” Joonmyun’s shaking again and he feels so fucking small, so lost, so confused. “What’s the point in showing this to me?”
“Because,” Jongdae begins carefully, “there’s something important about you. To me. I want you to know more about this place. And I want you to learn that you’re too good for this city, Joonmyun.”
--
Love, in its rawest form, is rarely tangible. It cannot feed mouths, it cannot pay the rent, and it cannot do what physical objects can. It cannot form bullets, it cannot power artillery, and it cannot set bombs.
Love can still start wars.
The traitor Kim Hwajung is willingly framed after her husband is killed by North Korean artillery and is found guilty of supposed treason in the form of communication with spies. It’s baseless and virtually impossible to prove right or wrong considering his death but she is firm in her stance that one, a life without her husband is meaningless; and two, his death will not be made into a game.
She frames herself.
The government fills in all of the details that she leaves blank. She tells them it was her, pretends to have the evidence and they take her as the scapegoat because they don’t need the real culprit. They need a catalyst for the plans they have for the city in defense of North Korea, plans born from fear born from paranoia.
She does do it for love.
She throws her child away so it will never have to be affiliated with her. She throws her family away so they will never have to be ashamed of her. She detaches herself from the world and turns herself in for a crime she has never come close to committing.
And she does it out of love.
Maybe she was insane, but she wasn’t guilty.
--
He leaves Jongdae wordlessly after some time and tries not to scream. There’s something bubbling at the base of his throat and Joonmyun isn’t sure if he wants to vomit or if he wants to cry but he feels shaky, sweaty, and fucking terrified and he doesn’t even know why. He just.
It’s torture. What he’s feeling right now can only be compared to torture and it’s because his thoughts are tearing him apart. Joonmyun knows-he knows this is a dilemma. He knows that he’s not supposed to be thinking about Jongdae. Not like this.
It’s on his way home that his phone rings once, twice, three times before he silences it. It rings again not twenty seconds after the first call dies. And again. And again. And when he finally picks it up, the voice on the other end doesn’t say anything for a while.
“Hello?” Joonmyun says slowly.
“Joonmyun,” a voice he recognizes to be Kyungsoo’s whispers into the phone, shaky, broken, and why does he sound so scared? “Joonmyun. Joonmyun, Joonmyun. Where are you? Where are you-are you… are you home? Are you around? Joonmyun, what do I do?”
“Hey,” he greets into the phone. He’s at his house now, at the end of the driveway. “I’m home. I just got home. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He isn’t sure where the next question comes from but he asks it anyways. “Where’s Baekhyun?”
Kyungsoo is silent. Joonmyun can hear his breath, shaky. He isn’t sure but Kyungsoo might be crying.
“Kyungsoo?”
“Joonmyun, I fucked up. Fuck! They caught us. I don’t know-I just. We didn’t think anyone was there and I kissed him and some fucking guard snuck up on us and fuck. Joonmyun. Baekhyun told them it was his fault and that I didn’t do anything and I couldn’t fucking say anything! They’re going to make him do it. They’re going to make him do the procedure early. They’re going to fucking-”
“Hey, stop. It’s okay. Where are you right now?” His hands are shaking.
There’s no response. “I’m, I’m… in front of his house.”
“Why are you in front of his house, Kyungsoo?”
“Because, Joonmyun, I want him to come home.”
--
Baekhyun does come home.
There’s paperwork being filled out and dealt with because Baekhyun’s still, technically, ‘underage.’ He’s not really supposed to be undergoing the procedure yet-not until he’s nineteen. Despite technically breaking the law by acting on emotion and going so far as to engage in a display of such dangerous passion with the same gender, he’s still underage. But for every crime comes punishment: Baekhyun’s punishment is the procedure, though he’s told by the guard that caught him and Kyungsoo that it’s a favor.
That’s it though. He has until his procedure is cleared, confirmed, and scheduled. That’s all the time he has and even then, it’s compromised by the wire they’ve forced onto his person to monitor his words leading up to the procedure.
When Joonmyun and Kyungsoo visit for presumably the last time, Baekhyun’s smiling.
They sit down on the ground and they’re silent. Baekhyun knows that the wire can only hear him. It can’t see him. It can’t see Kyungsoo or Joonmyun. It can’t see that Kyungsoo’s struggling to stay composed. It can’t see anything. It can only hear everything.
And Baekhyun doesn’t care.
“I went to the asylum,” Baekhyun suddenly announces, “when I first started seeing color because I wanted to know what the color of your lips and the color of your eyes were called. You know, they say the people there are the insane ones but-they’re pretty friendly. All of them. The guard wasn’t even paying attention so they spelled it out for me. They spelled out everything, every color I’d been thinking about. And they said, ‘you must be lucky. You’re so in love.’ Your lips are pink, just like your cheeks when it’s too cold outside. Your eyes are brown, just like your favorite flavor of ice cream.” The door is locked so Baekhyun reaches across to lace his fingers with Kyungsoo’s. “The ring you told me to hold on to? Silver. It glitters in the sun.”
Joonmyun looks down and clamps his eyes shut. He can’t do this. He can’t fucking do this.
Baekhyun presses his lips to the back of Kyungsoo’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you more. I’m sorry.”
Kyungsoo’s shaking. He wants to talk but he can’t, for fear that the wire will hear him.
“I’m sorry I never told you enough. I’m sorry I never told you that I like it when you wear red because you remind me of a fucking cherry.” Baekhyun’s laughing, but there are tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Joonmyun clenches his fists to keep from saying anything. There are so many things he could be asking right now, but he doesn’t feel compelled to hunt for answer. His own emotions are compromised.
They’re so in love.
Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Baekhyun, you’re such a fucking idiot. Say my name for me,” he insists, confidently. The expression on Baekhyun’s face is taken aback but Joonmyun knows-he knows that this is for the best. That Kyungsoo would rather get implicated for the crime with Baekhyun than watch him go alone. That it’s only okay if both of them are rendered free from their emotions, together.
Their fingers are still tangled.
“Do Kyungsoo. Hey,” Baekhyun says shakily, tilting Kyungsoo’s chin up with trembling fingertips. There’s a smile on his lips. “I love you.”
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo laughs, as though this isn’t goodbye. “I love you too.”
The kiss is bittersweet.
--
“The government protects its people,” Baekhyun says to Joonmyun, before Joonmyun leaves, “but it must have forgotten about me, huh?” A hollow laugh follows and Joonmyun squeezes Baekhyun’s shoulder. “But you never forgot about me. So thank you. Thank you for being here for me all along.”
--
He seeks Jongdae out this time. Baekhyun and Kyungsoo are scheduled for tomorrow and the day after, respectively. Joonmyun knows he can’t see them beforehand, not because of physical difficulties but because he knows he’ll break down. He knows he’ll regret it.
When he finds his way to the abandoned, deteriorating house, he’s almost disappointed to discover that it’s empty. The blankets are still scattered about and the photo album is exactly where it was when Joonmyun had left abruptly, but Jongdae is nowhere to be found.
Still, Joonmyun enters, hesitant as ever while making his way across the floorboards to the blankets. He kneels, ignoring the darkening skies above him and focusing on the album in front of him. He opens it. The same picture of the supposed traitor of Seoul greets him sunnily and he focuses on her expression.
She seems… happy. The man next to her seems happy too.
They’re in love and it only takes a single photograph to show that.
Joonmyun’s fingers tremble as he gingerly flips through the remaining filmy pages. The dates progress with each page he turns.
There are pictures of Jongdae when he was small clinging to a woman’s leg and pouting while standing on a rock in the middle of a stream with her. Joonmyun laughs. There are pictures of Jongdae and most likely Jongin standing with the same woman and a man, probably their parents.
The sky thunders and Joonmyun flinches. It’s going to rain soon and he doesn’t want Jongdae’s photo album to get damaged but he can’t help but be drawn to how different the backdrops in all of these photos of Jongdae’s family are compared to Seoul today.
The door creaks open and Joonmyun jumps again.
“What are you doing here?” Jongdae demands. He doesn’t look angry but he does look genuinely confused. His eyes drop from Joonmyun’s face to the album on the floor. “You came to look at the pictures?” he inquires with a raise of the brow. He enters the house and brushes himself off, peering up at the sky, ever so scrutinizing.
“I-I was…” Joonmyun’s stammering again and it’s embarrassing. “I was looking for you,” he confesses. “And I didn’t think I’d catch you today but… I was just looking through the album.”
“I heard about Baekhyun and Kyungsoo,” Jongdae says instead, expression sobering into something far more serious than Joonmyun’s accustomed to. “I’m sorry. It’s fucked up. They’re getting more and more ruthless these days, I swear but-hey. I… It’ll be okay.”
He doesn’t want to talk about Baekhyun or Kyungsoo or how they’re going to be completely different people the next time Joonmyun sees them. He doesn’t want to-he can’t.
Jongdae sits down next to Joonmyun again. Their knees don’t touch this time.
“Where are these pictures taken?” Joonmyun asks quietly, pointing to the ones he’d been looking at of adolescent Jongdae. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a stream like this in Seoul.”
“You haven’t,” he agrees, “because that’s not Seoul.”
He isn’t sure if it’s because of his nerves being frayed and knotted until numbness overwhelmed him over the course of a couple of days, but Joonmyun doesn’t react. He doesn’t look at Jongdae incredulously and he doesn’t feel threatened or pressured or even scared. “Where is it?”
“Outside,” Jongdae explains with a shrug. “My family isn’t from Seoul. My mom, Jongin, and I snuck in after my father passed away and we lived with an acquaintance of my father until my mom passed away.”
“And you didn’t get caught?”
“The old man was in government work,” he says with a light smile. “He’s a sympathizer. He forged our files for us.”
“A sympathizer?”
“Yeah. He’s of the opinion that Seoul’s corrupt.” Jongdae stares at the family picture Joonmyun had been examining earlier. He traces the outline of his mother and father. “We aren’t in touch anymore to avoid suspicion. He’s a nice man though.”
Joonmyun watches carefully as Jongdae closes the book. “You said… your parents passed away?”
“Dad was in a car accident. Mom committed suicide.”
It’s a little sad how unaffected Jongdae seems by his own past and Joonmyun doesn’t know why but he wants to reach out and do something to reassure Jongdae that he’s listening, he’s here, and he does care.
Joonmyun’s hand inches out just a bit but he falters and retracts.
“Joonmyun,” Jongdae says suddenly.
“Yeah?”
“When I was twelve, we met for the first time.” It’s a sudden admission. Jongdae isn’t looking at him and Joonmyun can’t remember-he can’t even tell if Jongdae’s just pulling his leg. “You were in my language class and I got yelled at by the teacher for not having my textbook because I couldn’t afford one.”
“Were we?”
“And you told the kid sitting next to me to share with me because I couldn’t ask him myself. I was probably too busy crying like the baby I was.” Jongdae scoffs. “I caught you. After class, I forgot my scarf in the room so I was about to go back to get it and I saw you sneaking something into my desk. I didn’t say anything. I hid until you left and then I went to see what it was and it was your textbook. You erased your name off of the inside of the front cover and wrote mine-but you’re stupid. You spelled it wrong.”
Joonmyun tilts his head to the side, a disbelieving smile on his lips. “Did I really? Are you just making this up?”
“Nah,” Jongdae replies with a light laugh. “Your memory’s shit. I cherished this memory like a gold ring and here you are-you can’t even remember it.” He lets out an overdramatic sigh, shoving at Joonmyun’s shoulder childishly. Jongdae turns his body and lies down, resting his head on Joonmyun’s lap.
“What are you-”
“Shut up.” Jongdae closes his eyes and puts a finger to his lips. “You have to treat me like royalty today because the cruel princess named Kim Joonmyun couldn’t remember my happiest childhood moment even though he was the star of it.”
Joonmyun barely has time to laugh.
The fact is, Jongdae is handsome.
He has a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. His lashes are long, fanned across his skin and dark against pale flesh. His lips are thin but Joonmyun likes how the corners of them turn up like he’s constantly smiling. His hands hovers precariously over Jongdae’s cheek-he wants to touch, but he knows he shouldn’t.
Joonmyun’s heart skips a beat and he swallows the lump in his throat.
He wants to do something else, too.
“Hey, Jongdae?”
Jongdae doesn’t even open his eyes. “What?”
“I need to try something,” Joonmyun mutters.
“Okay?”
“Is it okay if I do?”
Jongdae repositions his head against Joonmyun’s thigh, getting himself comfortable. He doesn’t seem too invested in what Joonmyun’s saying. “I don’t care.”
He falters.
Joonmyun knows better than anyone else that this is the worst possible thing he could be doing right now, when he knows that Kyungsoo and Baekhyun are paying the price for their own actions. But he has to-he has to satiate the butterflies in his stomach and the rampant thoughts in his mind that constantly spell out Jongdae’s name.
JongdaejongdaeJongdae.
So he leans down and lets his lips brush against the skin of Jongdae’s forehead.
And when he straightens his back, trying to fight the heat rushing to his cheeks, Jongdae opens his eyes and sits up.
His gaze is glued on Joonmyun’s face. “That’s it?” Jongdae asks.
Joonmyun doesn’t say anything, ducking his head down just a little lower.
“Great,” Jongdae murmurs, “then it’s my turn.”
It happens in an instant. Jongdae’s fingers curl around the front of Joonmyun’s shirt and he reels Joonmyun in before capturing his lips in another kiss. It’s fleeting, and before Joonmyun can even process what’s happening, Jongdae pulls away.
“You better not regret that,” Jongdae warns before he shifts his position to continue his use of Joonmyun’s lap as his personal pillow, “because I don’t.”
--
He isn’t sure what he’s doing. Joonmyun isn’t sure what part of his brain told him that it would be okay if he made the same mistake that Baekhyun and Kyungsoo made before him.
He knows very well that love is what supposedly turns people into beasts, into mindless, senseless animals. Or at least, Joonmyun thinks, that’s what he was taught to believe. It’s stinging, really, to think about the fact that his friends are being stripped of their capacity for individualism for being in love with one another. His denial of Baekhyun’s rationale is hitting him straight in the chest and it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad that Joonmyun realized too late that he was wrong and they were so, so right.
But he can’t do anything, and Joonmyun thinks that realization might hurt more than anything.
The ceiling is white. The ceiling fan is gray. His bookshelves are light gray. His blazer, hanging off of his desk chair, is black.
Everything is monochrome but.
He wonders, briefly, what could blue possibly look like in Jongdae’s eyes?
--
It’s a difficult morning. He rises early even though there isn’t school today. Still, Joonmyun checks his phone out of habit like he half-expects a text from Baekhyun asking for help on the physics. There are no messages waiting for him. He knows why.
There’s an anxious feeling at the base of Joonmyun’s stomach, but he can’t even begin to imagine how Baekhyun must feel.
It’s with much futility that Joonmyun starts his morning routine. He’s trying to pretend things aren’t changing drastically. He’s trying his best to pretend that things are very much so the same.
A part of him wants to text Baekhyun or even Kyungsoo but he knows, deep down, that that’s a bad decision when their nerves are already on edge. He’ll see Baekhyun and Kyungsoo after their procedures. It’ll be different. But it’ll be okay. They can start over-Joonmyun’s determined.
He wanders his room while brushing his teeth, gauging what he sees.
Still black, still gray, still white.
Things haven’t changed.
He rearranges his school blazer and is about to turn to go back into the bathroom when he notices that something’s fallen out of his blazer pocket. It’s a folded piece of paper.
Joonmyun blinks owlishly before leaning down to pick it up, letting his toothbrush balance between his lips. He takes care in unfolding the paper carefully.
It’s a note, written in a script he doesn’t recognize.
Noon @ the Haunted House.
But he doesn’t need to recognize the handwriting to know who it’s from.
The morning brightens just a tiny bit. It isn’t enough to lift Joonmyun’s spirits entirely but it helps, and at this point, Joonmyun thinks that’s what matters the most.
As he descends the stairs, however, he’s filled again with an acute sense of dread. It’s inescapable. He can’t help but contemplate the consequences. What if the procedures go wrong? What if Baekhyun or Kyungsoo are unaffected and they get shipped off to the asylum for ‘further analysis?’ The pessimism is a downward spiral but it grates at Joonmyun’s nerves.
Just a week or two ago he’d been so firm in his beliefs. He’d been so convinced that the government was here to protect, until it took away his two closest friends. He’d been so sure that love was a horrible curse until he felt those butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He’d been so set in his rightward thinking that he hadn’t even noticed that the fence surrounding Seoul was so thick that he couldn’t even see clearly how bright the other side was.
“Good morning,” his father greets as soon as Joonmyun turns into the kitchen. He’s pouring himself a cup of coffee and he tilts his head in Joonmyun’s direction.
“Good morning, dad. Good morning, mom,” Joonmyun replies.
“I hear Kyungsoo and Baekhyun are scheduled for early procedures,” his father comments idly, taking a sip from his mug while sifting through files from work, no doubt. “I hope you’re not too envious of them, Joonmyun. Your procedure’s coming too. Only a couple of months left.” The smile on his father’s lips is carefully constructed.
Joonmyun hadn’t even thought about his own procedure.
“Not too envious,” he says with a small, empty laugh.
“They must be so excited,” his mother croons from where she’s sitting at the dining room table. “I can still remember the day before my procedure. My nerves were a complete wreck.” She laughs lightly.
“It’s hard to believe you boys are growing up so quickly.” Joonmyun’s father smiles again. “To think you’ll all be getting assigned to your own beautiful wives soon. You’ll be working men before you know it. I’ll have grandkids!”
There’s that lurching feeling again. Joonmyun swallows it with another laugh.
“Aren’t you excited for the life Seoul has planned for you?” his father asks.
He’s been asked this question too many times to get it wrong. There’s a right answer and a wrong answer and he knows it.
But Joonmyun’s startled-for all of the times he’s been asked this, this is undoubtedly his first time feeling inclined to answer incorrectly.
He holds his tongue.
“Enthralled,” Joonmyun says sweetly. “I can’t wait.”
--
Jongdae’s late. Joonmyun almost convinces himself to leave before Jongdae stumbles in through the door, looking particularly disheveled.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I had a shift and I got off late.” He yanks the supermarket smock over his head and tosses it to the side. “Wait long?”
“No,” Joonmyun lies immediately.
“Bullshit. You got here ten minutes early, didn’t you?” Jongdae grins impishly. His smile only grows when Joonmyun fails to answer promptly. “I was kind of worried you wouldn’t find the note. I thought I was being pretty suave about it but in retrospect, it would have been more convenient if I told you.”
Joonmyun’s already sitting down by the time Jongdae starts walking towards the blanketed area. He plops down immediately, stretching his legs and his arms.
He pauses after a couple of seconds pass. “Today’s Baekhyun’s D-Day, huh?”
Joonmyun nods wordlessly.
“They don’t change much, do they? After the procedure I mean.” Jongdae hums thoughtfully. “They just get… more reserved. Calm.”
“Boring,” Joonmyun supplies helpfully.
“Yeah. Can’t forget boring.” Jongdae smiles lightly, though Joonmyun can tell it’s been thrown on for his own benefit.
It’s a little awkward, in all honesty. Joonmyun’s never been in a relationship or anything of the sort-he’s never found the need to pursue something as forbidden and taboo. But he isn’t sure what he is to Jongdae or what Jongdae is to him. He isn’t sure what they are as a whole and he can’t quite find the right words to ask the right question.
“Yes, princess? What’s on your mind now?”
“What?”
“Your mind,” Jongdae reemphasizes. “Please, do share what’s going on in that mind of yours.”
Jongdae reties the laces of his shoes while Joonmyun contemplates what he’s supposed to say and how he’s supposed to say it.
“We’re…”
“We’re what?”
“We’re… what… what are we, exactly?”
“Well, you’re a princess and I’m probably the court jester by default.” Jongdae shrugs, and then two beats later rolls his eyes when Joonmyun doesn’t say anything. “Joking. Please feel free to throw me some pity laughs every now and then. I promise my ego can take it.”
“Just… I don’t know what this is.” Joonmyun frowns.
“Do you like me?” Jongdae asks.
“Do I like you?”
“Do you think about me more than you should? Did you think about your lips after I kissed you? Did you feel warm when I touched you? Things like that.”
“Yeah, I think so?” Joonmyun bites his lip. “My stomach does weird flips?”
“You definitely like me,” Jongdae confirms with a flippant wave of his hand. “Not that I’m surprised. But yeah. I like you too. You like me, I like you. That’s how relationships start, typically. But they don’t have to. It doesn’t have to be a relationship.”
“A relationship,” Joonmyun repeats with a steady nod of his head. He thinks that’s what Baekhyun and Kyungsoo were secretly in.
“Listen, I don’t think people can change radically in the manner of days or weeks but I do think you’ve just been waiting for someone to prod you to a particular path.” It’s out of nowhere. Jongdae looks at Joonmyun earnestly. “It’s scary. Terrifying, actually, but. I don’t know-uh. But… just…”
Jongdae reaches out and squeezes Joonmyun’s hand in his.
“The thing about Seoul is that they kill the individual while isolating the individual. This isn’t like that. This is a system where you can lean on me. Which means you don’t need to lock shit up because you feel like the world’s going to think you’re insane. Trust me, Joonmyun, no one is near insane as I am.” Jongdae looks complacent but he cracks a smile. “We don’t have to call this anything. As long as I get to kiss you.”
“Okay,” Joonmyun agrees with a smile that practically glows. He doesn’t know how to express it but he’s relieved and so incredibly grateful. “Yeah, I-okay. Okay."
“Okay,” Jongdae confirms. He’s smiling too. “Okay.”
--
Post-procedure, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo still look and sound the same. But Jongdae was right. They’re more reserved, more collected, more calm.
And they don’t look at each other with hearts and stars in their eyes. They treat each other like they treat Joonmyun and Joonmyun’s never hated it more.
--
Days pass like seconds and it’s almost bewildering how quickly time escapes him when he’s with Jongdae. Joonmyun doesn’t know how long it’s been. He’s been making excuses a lot, lying to his parents to escape for time shared here and there. His conscience tells him to be respectful but he’s cutting his losses. Sacrifices have to be made.
By the time he gets to the house, Jongdae’s already there, leaning against one of the walls and sifting through a calculus textbook.
“Hey,” Joonmyun greets quietly.
Jongdae lifts his gaze from the book and readjusts his glasses. He ran out of contacts last week. “Hello,” he replies with a small smile. “I’m driving myself insane with derivatives and other fun things. Stay tuned. I might gouge my eyes out with a spoon.”
Joonmyun rolls his eyes, sitting next to Jongdae and peeking over his shoulder unhelpfully to get a look at the material. It’s not too difficult but then again, Joonmyun’s not the one assigned to computer science of all things-he’s sure Jongdae’s unbearably smart and over-exaggerating.
He’s about to say something when Jongdae closes the book decisively and tosses it to the side, turning his head and grabbing a hold of Joonmyun’s chin instead, to pull him in for a closed-mouth kiss.
“You have to study,” Joonmyun protests, when they pull away from each other.
“I need incentive,” Jongdae reasons, kissing Joonmyun again. This time, however, he coaxes Joonmyun’s lips apart with his tongue and deepens it in comparison to their usual chaste exchanges. When he pulls away, Joonmyun’s already red in the face. “Like that. Good incentive.”
“Asshole,” Joonmyun mutters indignantly.
“You want to see my ass so soon?”
Joonmyun punches his arm. Jongdae hisses.
“I forgot to tell you,” Jongdae mutters disdainfully, rubbing at his arm, “but they’re clearing out this lot this Sunday. So tonight’s our last day here, in our humble abode, because I have work tomorrow and you have princess-duties, I’m sure.”
“They’re clearing it out?” The disappointment is clear in Joonmyun’s voice.
“Yeah. Making room for more buildings. It sucks, I know, but…” He turns and pats the wall behind him. “Good run. Tell your parents you’re sleeping over at Kyungsoo’s and come here. The sky’s clear tonight. We’re stargazing.”
--
Jongdae turns on his side so he’s facing Joonmyun. With the hand he isn’t using to prop his head up, he reaches out to brush aside stray strands of hair from Joonmyun’s forehead. It’s gentle, careful. “Hey,” Jongdae begins. There’s a blank expression on his face as Joonmyun tears his eyes from the stars they can see through the gaping hole in the ceiling. “Can I tell you something important?”
“Of course,” Joonmyun replies with a light smile. He likes it when Jongdae measures his words like this, like each one is worth a million dollars and he’s investing every million in Joonmyun.
“It’d kill me to see you like anyone else,” Jongdae says honestly, “because to be quite frank, I do think I’m in love with you. It sounds stupid because we don’t know each other inside-out and we aren’t adults or anything but I know I do. I know it for a fact because there’s no other reason that I would have felt so fucking compelled to tell you everything I’ve kept secret about me. And, honestly, I wish you could see what I saw-colors and all, because I do actually think you might be perfect.” His tone is soft, just a little bit cautious. There might be a dash of hesitation but Jongdae tries to cover it up. His fingers skim Joonmyun’s cheek and land back on the blanket to lace with Joonmyun’s.
His heart’s racing but he doesn’t try to make it stop. Joonmyun likes it. He likes it when his body acts accordingly with his mind. He can feel the butterflies in his stomach too, swarming him in excitement. The smile on his face is probably telling. “Yeah,” he says, breathless, “I think I’m in love with you too.” And it might be ridiculous, Joonmyun knows. It’s stupid because he’s only eighteen, Jongdae’s only eighteen but this-this is a high Joonmyun’s never felt before. It has to be something. It has to be love.
He closes his eyes when Jongdae leans in to kiss him fleetingly on the lips.
When he opens his eyes, the sky is no longer black and Jongdae’s lips are no longer gray.
“What color is that?” Joonmyun inquires, stunned. He points to the sky. It’s so near black but Joonmyun knows for a fact that it isn’t. It’s different.
“Blue,” Jongdae replies slowly, “my favorite color.”
--
Jongdae’s words follow him for the rest of the night. Blue is night, blue is day. Blue is the color of the ocean that mom loved so much. Blue is the color of Jongin’s favorite blanket. Blue is the color Jongdae likes best on Joonmyun. Blue is sadness, blue is glee. Blue blue blue. Jongdae likes the color blue.
He sleeps with Jongdae’s arms wound around him, pulling him flush against his chest. It’s hard to fall asleep at first because of the rapid beating of his heart but he’s lulled to sleep by the tiny puffs of breath that slip past Jongdae’s lips. And Joonmyun thinks, with the dark blue sky stretched above them-he could get used to this.
--
When he wakes, Jongdae’s already sitting up. The sky’s a brighter color that reminds him of bubbles-of something airy and transient.
“Joonmyun?”
“Yeah?” He’s groggy and he rubs at his eyes with much futility before heaving himself into a sedentary position as well. It’s stunning, really. He can see the flush of Jongdae’s cheeks now, the angry imprint of falling asleep in the wrong position still on his cheek.
“What are you going to do?”
“About?”
Jongdae looks at him imploringly. “Your procedure. It’s almost here.”
“Oh.” The date had escaped him again but Jongdae’s right. It’s coming up-right around the corner. He’s silent, unsure of what his answer’s supposed to be. He isn’t even sure if he has one. “I don’t know,” Joonmyun confesses honestly, rubbing at the back of his head. “I really don’t.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Jongdae replies with a light laugh. It sounds strained. He pauses. “You could always go with me.”
Joonmyun’s never seen Jongdae so hesitant.
“Go with you?”
“Outside,” Jongdae mutters. He fumbles with his glasses and lets out a tiny, tiny sigh. “I can’t avoid the procedure. It’s not until September but I can’t avoid it like I’ve avoided the shots. And I can’t-I mean, they’ll know. I haven’t been conditioned by the injections for this procedure and they’ll know right off the bat when I reject it that I’m not supposed to be here.” He smiles apologetically. “It’s time for me to go, Joonmyun. I don’t have any reason to stay here if you aren’t really here anyways.”
Joonmyun is silent. He isn’t sure how to process any of the information Jongdae’s just given him. He doesn’t want to, either, because the realization that everything Joonmyun could have possibly wanted is coming to a decisive end is horrifying. “What do you… what? No, I mean-you have Jongin! Jongdae, you can’t just leave.” This is the worst wake-up call and Joonmyun’s panicking.
“He’s not my responsibility anymore,” Jongdae replies smoothly. “We talked. He wants to stay so we made the arrangements. I’m not abandoning him. He’ll be okay.”
“Jongdae,” Joonmyun tries desperately, “what if they catch you?”
“They won’t. Joonmyun.” Jongdae reaches out, cradling Joonmyun’s head with two hands. “I told you I loved you because I love you. I’m not leaving because of anything that’s gone wrong here. I’m leaving because I want to. I have to. I’m going to have to eventually-there’s no use prolonging the process. It’ll hurt regardless.”
“Jongdae. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“You can come with me if you want. You don’t have to. You can stay and I’d be fine. I’d understand. I don’t care as long as I don’t have to see you after your procedure when you’ve forgotten everything that I’m going to remember for the rest of my life.”
He hates this. He hates it when Jongdae’s serious and there’s desperation coursing through his veins right now. He doesn’t want this to be his reality.
“Listen to me,” Jongdae says softly. “What we have is good. It will always be good. I will never think of you and feel hurt, or betrayed. I will think of you and I’ll smile. I’ll laugh. I love you, okay? I love you so fucking much it’s ridiculous because I know for a fact that I’ve never, ever felt this way about anyone else before. You’re crazy. Insane for doing this to me.” He smiles and Joonmyun hates how composed he is. He drops his hands from Joonmyun’s face and wraps his arms around his neck.
The embrace feels like a goodbye and Joonmyun hates it even more. He hates it even as tears begin to prick his eyes.
“Say it, Joonmyun.”
“I love you,” Joonmyun manages to choke out. “I love you, Kim Jongdae.”
“I love you too. I swear I fucking do.”
--
Another folded note falls out of his jacket pocket when he forces himself home.
Noon. Where you first saw me.
And if not-I love you and thank you.
--
The day comes quicker than expected. He wakes to text messages from people he hasn’t even saved the numbers of, all congratulating him on taking the next big step to adulthood. Baekhyun and Kyungsoo congratulate him too. Baekhyun sends i guess the pizza’s on u this time and it almost feels like things haven’t changed.
The morning feels longer than the past week combined but Joonmyun pushes himself through it. His parents are already gone-father for work and mother for her weekly book club or something. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t mind, either, because he thinks he might prefer being alone right now.
Joonmyun reaches for his jacket, slipping it on slowly. He reaches into the left pocket and finds the letter Jongdae left him. He reaches into the right pocket-
There’s something waiting there too.
When he pulls his hand out, he’s looking down at a badly developed photograph of a grinning Jongdae struggling to take a picture of himself. It’s recent, he can tell, because he’s wearing his glasses and there’s a calculus textbook in the background of the picture. Joonmyun smiles in spite of himself, and he stares at the picture for a beat longer than he should. It makes him feel warm.
He turns it around and he spots Jongdae’s familiar scrawl.
To the princess.
“And the court jester as well,” Joonmyun says to himself, a wry smile on his lips.
--
To the right is where his procedure’s scheduled to take place.
To the left is where Jongdae’s waiting, at the edge of town.
Joonmyun rests his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
And, he turns, blue sky draped around him.
--
They say love has the power to turn humans into monsters.
But don’t forget that love also has the power to turn monsters into humans.
one | two
1. plot was based on the novel delirium, by lauren oliver and a tumblr post about how interesting it would be if the default view was b&w and we saw in color when we met our soulmates.
2. seoul, in this verse, is functioning under a totalitarian government and is doubly its own entity isolated from the rest of south korea (there are impassive electric fences looped around the city’s parameters as a means of keeping people in while keeping others out).
3. people are assigned fields of study, occupations, and their future companions. to avoid these assignments is to sign away one’s life to the mental asylum.
4. a lot of the science and medical procedures and whatnot are entirely made up by myself so please do not, for a second, think i hold a modicum of genuine knowledge regarding the scientific hoopla.
5. baekhyun and kyungsoo both begin to see in color deep into their relationship, which begins a little bit, officially, before this verse is set. baekhyun’s first and kyungsoo’s second. neither of them see in color anymore following their individual procedures, but baekhyun still wears kyungsoo’s ring.