Round 12: (Out beyond) I'll meet you there 2/2

[olymficsmod]

By the time he shuts the laptop, it’s close to midnight, again. Instantly, the memory comes back to him in full clarity, right down to the whiny sort of noise that Jaehwan made, right before Taekwoon put that pillow over his own head. He quickly stamps down the curl of intrigue in his belly.

As he takes the last steps to the light switch, dangerously close to Jaehwan’s room, he notices that the bedroom is opened. Just a crack, but it sends a shiver through Taekwoon. It’s just like last night. He flips the switch and shuffles back to the couch, pulls the covers over him.

The silence makes Taekwoon’s ears ring. Kkulbbangi is probably asleep too; she’s quiet in her carrier.

Then, there’s a moan from the bedroom. The sound carries all the way to where he lies, and it makes Taekwoon freeze. There’s shifting, and immediately, Taekwoon’s mind conjures the image of Jaehwan shifting to get a better angle at his cock, his legs spread under the covers- fuck. His own cock stiffens under his pants, and Taekwoon presses his heel against his crotch, willing it to go down.

Jaehwan’s panting, very softly, but it’s sweet and Taekwoon’s ears picks up each inhale and exhale so easily. There’s a creak, and Taekwoon imagines Jaehwan pistoning his hips up, one hand pressed braced against the bed, and Taekwoon marches across the living to close the door. It makes a clicking sound, louder than he intended, and Taekwoon thinks he might have heard Jaehwan’s moan cut off.

He goes to the couch, and pulls the blankets over his head.

Perhaps for the first time, Taekwoon wakes up from his fitful sleep to see Jaehwan padding out from his bedroom. He thinks about all the things to say-between last night and the very first day they met decades ago-and says nothing at all. Jaehwan glances over at the couch, and Taekwoon shuts his eyes quickly.

He only opens his eyes again when he hears the tap in the sink start. Perhaps he has nothing to say because everything that needs to be said, has been said.

When Jaehwan gets home in the afternoon, Taekwoon does his best to keep his eyes on the television. His ears, however, are so focused on Jaehwan’s movements that he can tell from every rustle and clatter, what he’s doing. Jaehwan pads to the living room, feet muffled thumps against the carpet, and flops onto the couch. Only then, Taekwoon allows himself to turn and look at him.

Jaehwan has a can of beer in his hand, and he tilts it in Taekwoon’s direction. Taekwoon shakes his head, and he shrugs, and takes a swig.

“Anything about Cheongnam today,” Jaehwan says.

Taekwoon sighs. He’s almost forgotten, momentarily, the reason why he’s here, and not across the river back in his own home.

The train service has been restored since yesterday, and in the meantime, Taekwoon has taught himself to forget about it.

The thought of never returning to Seoul is a stale one, but he knows that he must go to his family soon, if he ever wants to go at all. He can leave right now, as he is, without his credit cards and mobile. He can wire the money to Jaehwan when he gets a new card at Busan-

“Hyung?” Jaehwan’s looking at him, craning his neck, mouth in a moue. For a moment, Taekwoon thinks he looks twenty all over again. And then he realises that he’s supposed to give an answer.

“No,” he says, and clears his throat. “There’s been another riot at Jongno, so…”

Jaehwan hums. “I heard.”

“You have?” Taekwoon is pretty sure Jaehwan hasn’t had his laptop with him for the past couple of mornings, and doesn’t watch much television.

Jaehwan blinks at him. “Of course, I get updates on my phone.” He takes another swig of his beer.

“I see.” Taekwoon turns back to the television, and changes the channel. He half-expects Jaehwan to talk about dinner, or bring up the weather, but he’s completely silent, until the eight o’clock segment ends. Taekwoon can feel his belly rumble, but he bites down the urge to bring up dinner. Kkulbbangi has already been fed in the afternoon, so she’s curled up, content, in her carrier. Whatever Jaehwan has in mind, Taekwoon can probably wait it out.

As he switches the television off, Jaehwan says, voice casual, “We should go have a meal outside.”

Taekwoon settles back on the couch. “What’s the occasion?”

Jaehwan smiles sheepishly, and sucks a breath in through his teeth. “I forgot to buy groceries for the week.”

Taekwoon can still remember visiting grocery stores that were bursting with choices. Today, Jaehwan pushes the cart up to the store’s single refrigerator, digs around, and pulls out a small pint of ice cream.

“Vanilla?” he asks. Taekwoon nods. “Good, because that’s all they have.” Jaehwan shuts the fridge door with a decisive click, and the cart rattles its steady tune against the linoleum. Taekwoon thinks it could almost be the beat to Error, if he tried hard enough. He hums the first couple of notes, testing the rhythm.

“Are you coming or not?” Jaehwan is staring at him oddly, and he’s stopped pushing the trolley.

The notes die in his throat. “Yeah,” Taekwoon says, and tugs the face mask back on his mouth. He jogs over, and Jaehwan smiles at him, his crow's feet winking at the corner of his eyes.

“No one’s going to see you,” he says, and tugs Taekwoon’s mask down to his chin. “There, much more handsome now. I could be your stylist noona.” Taekwoon watches as Jaehwan stiffens at his own transgression, and he coughs into his fist nervously. “Haha, let’s get our things before the ice cream melts,” he says, and starts pushing the cart again.

Taekwoon catches up easily this time, and tugs the mask fully off his face.

“I’m so full,” Jaehwan sighs over his now empty bowl. “That was great.”

Taekwoon agrees over his mouthful of ice cream.

“Well, I’m going to wash up and go to bed,” Jaehwan says, and he stands up to go to the kitchen. Taekwoon stretches out his hand before he had half a mind to stop it. The realisation that he literally has not spoken to anyone but Jaehwan is discomforting, and here they are, passing words up for silence and actions that probably don’t mean as much to Jaehwan as they do to Taekwoon. And Taekwoon has something to say.

“I’ve been living here for some time,” Taekwoon starts, and Jaehwan stops in his tracks.

“So you want to leave?” Jaehwan’s gaze is rather sad, and Taekwoon thinks, perhaps he hasn’t spoken to anyone but Taekwoon, either.

“I don’t-” I don’t know, is what Taekwoon wants to say, but the words get lodged in his throat. “I need to see my family, and Hakyeon. He hasn’t called back.”

“Where is he?”

“He told me Busan-”

“Are you going to Busan?” Jaehwan has his hands folded across his chest now, and his mouth is pressed thin. “It’s dangerous.”

It’s all wrong to Taekwoon. He’d expected Jaehwan to smile, like that last day in Jellyfish, and bid him a good life. And he would leave Taekwoon with Hakyeon to fend for themselves, because they were not good friends, because Jaehwan wanted to produce his own music and had forgotten to take Taekwoon along on their shared dream.

Unlike the last time, if he were to leave now, it was highly likely that they would never see each other again.

“You could come with me,” Taekwoon offers.

Jaehwan bites his lip so hard that it turns white. “I can’t,” he says, and his whole body sort of slumps into itself. “I can’t leave.”

Taekwoon half-expected that. “Do your parents live here?”

“They’re in Haenam. But that’s not it.” Jaehwan shakes his head, and his hand comes up to knead at his eyes. Taekwoon wants to take Jaehwan’s hand and comfort him, but his fingers curl in his lap stubbornly. It wasn’t fair before, and some part of Taekwoon feels that he’s evening the score.

“I’m going to wash up,” Jaehwan says, and his note carries the finality that stops Taekwoon from following him into the kitchen.

He stares down at the sodden bowl of ice cream, and pushes the bowl away as far as he can. It doesn’t feel like they’re even. Taekwoon still remembers how he’d gone back to the dorm to see Jaehwan’s side of the closet barren.

Later, as the clock shifts to a little over eleven o’clock, Taekwoon finds his attention waning. He should really shut the laptop and return it to Jaehwan, when he remembers-

He stays up, staying on the same forum thread for almost half an hour, until the light in Jaehwan’s bedroom goes off. Taekwoon sneaks a glance. The door is left open, again. Taekwoon slips out of the couch, and pads, as quietly as he can manage, over to the light switch.

He flicks the light switch, and it clicks louder than he’d expected it to. He peeks into the room, and in the darkness, he can barely make out Jaehwan peering at him. There’s a slick noise, like Jaehwan just licked his lips. Taekwoon swallows, his arms locked around his body and his feet glued to the floor beneath him, waiting.

Finally, Jaehwan says, “Wanna come inside,” and then opens the door wide.

Taekwoon goes.

Inside, Jaehwan flicks a switch on the wall, and the room is bathed in a warm, orange glow from the bedside lamp. When Taekwoon looks at Jaehwan, it’s to meet his gaze, partially shrouded in the dim light.

Jaehwan climbs up the bed, sits gingerly on his haunches. Taekwoon shuffles to the edge, and up close, Jaehwan’s eyelashes cast long shadows across his cheekbones, and he blinks, once, twice, before he surges up to kiss Taekwoon.

Taekwoon meets him, mouth open, and Jaehwan licks at his lips, the sides of his mouth and tongue, and Taekwoon can do nothing but return it. He licks a broad stripe down the side of Jaehwan’s thin neck, and settles on his lap. Jaehwan smells fresh from his shower, and Taekwoon kisses and laves at Jaehwan’s neck, up behind his ear, and Jaehwan sighs, his hands coming up to clutch at Taekwoon’s back and waist.

They strip down, and Taekwoon admires for a second, how the dim light makes Jaehwan’s eyes so big and dark and the freckles on his shoulders stark. He runs a hand past them as they kiss again in deep pulls of tongue and teeth, and then Jaehwan says, “Hold on,” and turns to open his bedside drawer.

Jaehwan preps himself messily, his cock bobbing as he presses fingers into his ass. He huffs and whines, his head lowered and back arched. Taekwoon’s cock twitches, and he watches as Jaehwan’s eyes follow the motion.

He reaches forward, intent on feeling Jaehwan for himself. Jaehwan gasps and bucks, and Taekwoon’s finger slides in, slow and heady.

“Taekwoon, Taekwoon,” Jaehwan is chanting, his eyes hooded and mouth slack. He has one hand against the mattress, and Taekwoon takes it, like he’s wanted since hours ago, to wind it around his own neck. He pumps his finger with Jaehwan’s rhythm, and sucks his moans into his own mouth.

It takes a little maneuvering, and then Taekwoon is pushing his cock, inch by inch, into the clutch of Jaehwan’s body. Jaehwan sighs, but otherwise makes no noise. Taekwoon bends over him, chest against his back, and slides home.

The heat is almost unbearable, and Taekwoon moans and shakes and fights not to grip Jaehwan’s hips. Jaehwan is still, and he’s not talking. Taekwoon imagined him a noisy lover, someone who spread his legs and moaned so loud his neighbors complained, and yet here they are. Despite himself, he brushes a hand against Jaehwan’s shoulder, as gently as he can.

And then, finally, Jaehwan turns back around, but it’s only to say, “Hurry up.”

When he wakes, it’s to see the sun crest over the metal landscape, a soft grey reflecting off glass and finely polished metal. From where Taekwoon lies, in Jaehwan’s bed, it shines, cool, a prelude to the usually blazing afternoons, and Taekwoon is reminded of how he saw the sunrise from the other side of the river, just over a week ago.

The spot next to him is empty, and if Taekwoon concentrates, he can hear the sounds of Jaehwan pottering around in the kitchen. He puts on the pair of pants he wore to bed last night, and pads to the kitchen.

Jaehwan has his back to him, oblivious, and Taekwoon hesitates, unsure if their night together is warrant enough for intimacy the morning after. Jaehwan, as if sensing someone watching him, turns around. With his back to the morning light, and his mouth soft with sleep, Taekwoon goes over, and with a hand under Jaehwan’s chin, tilts his face up for a kiss. Jaehwan leans into it with a low groan, hands coming to clutch at the short hair at Taekwoon’s nape, reeling him in. And Taekwoon follows his lead.

They end up rutting against the kitchen counter, Jaehwan’s back pressed against the drying stack of dishes, their movements making rattling sounds that echo through the small room. Taekwoon presses his palms on the counter by Jaehwan’s waist, and pumps his hips in short bursts of energy interspersed with lazy rolls. It’s intoxicating, to have Jaehwan press his cock against his own, to feel him thrust up, matching his own pace.

Jaehwan has his mouth pressed against the shell of Taekwoon’s ear, the noises he makes amplified as he twists his hips. And it’s strange, for even though he’s the one to press Jaehwan against the counter, he feels Jaehwan’s voice clamp him down like a chokehold, and he comes, shuddering, sighing.

Jaehwan’s mouth feels like a brand on his neck.

The train ride that Taekwoon has to take looms over him like a perpetual cloud. He makes another call to his mother, gives platitudes and non-committal answers, because he has no answer himself.

Cheongnam-dong has been cordoned off to the public, but Jayang has not. The train will leave at eight o’clock tonight, and the suitcase that Jaehwan has given him remains empty. The house always feels empty in the afternoon, and Taekwoon finds himself looking at the clock more than he does at the television, which he realises that he has grown bored of.

Before Jaehwan leaves for the day, he turns back to Taekwoon on the couch. “Are you leaving today,” he asks, and his voice is so light that Taekwoon thinks he’s making a joke.

I don’t know, is Taekwoon’s answer. He says, instead, “Not today.”

Jaehwan doesn’t quite manage to cover up his grimace. The door shuts, and Taekwoon turns on the television out of sheer reflex.

The train services have been temporarily suspended, and Taekwoon turns the broadcast off, and goes to take Kkulbbangi out on her daily exercise.

When he tells Jaehwan last night, he can’t be sure if Jaehwan’s sigh is of relief or disappointment, but perhaps he’s projecting.

Once, they lay enjoying the aftermath of their lovemaking, and Taekwoon felt the uncontrollable need to touch Jaehwan again, even though they had just touched each other for perhaps the better half of the morning. He reached over, to where Jaehwan lay, with his back to him, to rest his palm against Jaehwan’s shoulder, against his small freckles. Then, Jaehwan turned his head, a lazy motion that probably only allowed him to only seem half of Taekwoon’s head, and he smiled with his crow’s feet and kiss-red lips. He turned around, and scooted up to Taekwoon’s face, so close that their breaths intermingled. And Taekwoon was content.

Taekwoon is flipping through the news channels when hears the doorknob jiggle. He frowns, and turns to look at the clock on the wall. It's barely three o'clock, and Jaehwan never seems to get home before five. The door unclicks, finally, just when Taekwoon is about to head over and open the latch himself. Jaehwan stumbles in, a hand clutched to his face, gasping and wheezing. Underneath his hand, his skin has turned a deep red. Taekwoon does bolt upright, and he hurries over, just as Jaehwan doubles over at the threshold of the house.

"Hey," Taekwoon says, as he squats down next to Jaehwan. He tries to pluck at Jaehwan's sleeve, but he swats it away. "Jaehwan," Taekwoon says, his hands fluttering uselessly at his side. "Tell me what to do."

"Milk," Jaehwan gasps.

Taekwoon reels back. “What why-”

“Just,” Jaehwan grits out, his eyes clenched tight.

"Where," Taekwoon asks, his hand coming up to grasp Jaehwan's sleeve. "I don't...I don't know-"

"Storage cabinet." Jaehwan whines and gasps from the pain, and Taekwoon shoots upright to run into the storage room at the back of the kitchen. He locates the milk easily enough, and he unscrews the cap on his way back to the living room.

"I have it, what do I need to do-"

"Pour it here." Jaehwan removes his palm from his face, and its inflamed and Taekwoon can almost see the welts starting to form. Taekwoon aims the carton so that a steady stream can land on Jaehwan's face, but Jaewhan gives an impatient shout, and tilts it so almost the entire carton splashes onto his face in a single wave. He gasps and splutters, but when he reaches up to wipe at his face, it's without a hiss or wince of pain.

"Taekwoon sets the carton down next to him. "Do you want-"

"Yeah."

And Taekwoon goes back to the storage room again.

It takes them three cartons before Jaehwan's face loses most of its red, inflamed state, and they slump down at the foyer, door still unlatched. Jaehwan is silent save for his loud breathing, and Taekwoon feels almost discomforted at how there seems to be no explanation coming forth.

He decides on a neutral question. "What happened?"

Jaehwan turns to face him from where he's sprawled on the floor. Taekwoon doesn't know if it's because of the horrible rash or his emotional discomfort, but Jaehwan looks unwilling to share.

"Do you want to go to the hospital to-"

"I was at one of the protests." Jaehwan interrupts. Taekwoon feels anger whip through his whole body so quickly that he finds himself shaking. How dare they, his mind shouts, and he moves to grasp Jaehwan’s hand in his to quell it.

"The protest..." The morning news swims against the forefront of his mind, the one in Hwayang, just a few blocks away from Jaehwan's apartment. "Did you get caught in it?"

Jaehwan blinks at him, and then frowns. "No, I participated in it."

"Oh." Taekwoon leans back on his haunches. Jaehwan’s thumb brushes against the back of his hand like an apology.

"I might not be heading out in the afternoons anymore, I think."

Taekwoon bites his lip, feeling the silence coil around his tongue like a bitter coffee. "Do you want to go to the hospital?"

Jaehwan jerks his head to look at Taekwoon, his eyebrows raised and eyes wide. "It looks more serious that it actually is."

Belatedly, Taekwoon realises that going to the hospital for burn wounds that are sustained from a riot is actually a terrible idea. "Okay,” he says, and then opens his mouth to say something else, only to come up short. "Okay," he says again.

Jaehwan sighs, and gingerly reaches up to brush his matted fringe out of his eyes. "I'm tired. Help me to bed?"

Taekwoon, for the first time in weeks, does the cooking on his own. He's reasonably adept at cooking, having lived on his own for so long, but when he tastes it, he finds it bland compared to what he's become used to in Jaehwan's household.

He balances the bowl of porridge on a tray, and totters over to the bed. Jaehwan's still lying on his back, eyes closed. Taekwoon figures his face is still too raw to have anything pressing against it. Upon setting the tray down at the bedside table, he turns to the bed, only to see Jaehwan staring up at him.

His ears burning from the prolonged gaze, Taekwoon asks, “How’s your face?” He shuffles to sit next to Jaehwan on the bed.

Jaehwan’s throat works, and he says, “Better,” without much difficulty. “It usually subsides after a while. It’s not serious.” He offers a weak smile.

The bed springs creak as Taekwoon shifts his weight. “I’m glad,” he mutters, his ears still hot, and because his hands feel empty, he reaches for the bowl of porridge. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Jaehwan says, and sits up. “I could eat it on my own, or if you want to.” he nudges Taekwoon’s back with his leg. “You could feed it to me.”

Taekwoon is almost positive that his ears are burning a bright shade of red. Jaehwan sticks his tongue out and wags it. Obviously, his injury has all but healed now, and Taekwoon resists the urge to grab Jaehwan in a mock-chokehold, like old times. He makes a violent motion at Jaehwan, regardless.

Jaehwan’s face transforms with his smile, his crow's feet bunching up, and he leans to rest his face against Taekwoon’s shoulder. His hands come up to rest against Taekwoon’s waist as he whines. “But I’m injured!”

“Idiot,” Taekwoon finds himself saying, bumping his shoulder gently against Jaehwan’s. “Do you want to eat or not?”

The next morning, Taekwoon wakes to Jaehwan blinking at him from across the bed. “Morning,” he mumbles, and then, unable to resist himself, puts his hand to cradle the small of Jaehwan's neck. To his surprise, Jaehwan leans in, a small gentle motion that makes his breath catch.

“Are you going today,” he asks.

“No,” Jaehwan answers. “I’m staying.”

Jaehwan spends the afternoon on his phone, which Taekwoon discovers to be the source of contact between him and his trusted friend, who goes to protests just as often as Jaehwan does. The television is switched off, probably for the first time since Taekwoon’s set foot into this house. Instead, he plays with Kkulbbangi, who decides that it’s time for some human interaction and goes along with him.

Jaehwan finds him a while later on the floor, curled up against a napping Kkulbbangi. “I didn’t realise I could get jealous over a cat,” he says. Taekwoon snorts and extends a hand to him. Jaehwan settles down against his back, and they’re quiet for approximately five seconds before Jaehwan says, “I think I’m going back out there tomorrow.”

Taekwoon jerks back so quickly he thinks he might have hurt his neck. “Isn’t it too soon?”

Jaehwan’s breath is hot against Taekwoon’s ear. “I stayed in Seoul to protest. I would have gone home if I didn’t…”

“Didn’t have anything to do?” Taekwoon ventures.

“Didn’t know how to help.” Jaehwan’s arm winds around his waist, and rests his hand on Kkulbbangi’s back. She jerks up to look at them, and then promptly flops back down and closes her eyes.

“I don’t. I don’t see how you can help,” Taekwoon says, and shuts his eyes when he feels Jaehwan stiffen. “We don’t have the resources.”

“I know.” Jaehwan’s voice is resigned, and his voice sounds so small that Taekwoon can’t help but brush his hand against Jaehwan’s arm in comfort.

“What are you doing during the afternoons?” he tries.

Jaehwan sighs, and shuffles closer to Taekwoon. “I go to protests. We don’t actually protest about the blackouts, but about things we can control. Offshoring jobs so people can keep their jobs and work outside of Seoul and be with their families. Simple things.”

“They...didn’t show that on the broadcasts.”

“Yeah? I guess they wouldn’t.” Jaehwan sighs, and the motion of his chest pushes against Taekwoon’s back. “The new Minister of Labor isn’t doing his job in his office.”

Taekwoon hums. “He’s the guy from Trade, right?”

“Covering his own ass from his previous mistakes.” Jaehwan huffs out a laugh.

They fall silent again. Taekwoon studies the way Kkulbbangi’s body moves with her heartbeats, and listens to Jaehwan’s pulse against his shoulder blade.

“My older brother,” Jaehwan begins. Taekwoon nods for him to go on. “His family is in Haenam, too, but he works in Seoul. I guess that’s why I’m here.”

Taekwoon runs a finger along Kkulbbangi’s paw. “Where’s he now?”

“In Seoul.”

“He can go back soon,” Taekwoon says. “Train service resumed.”

Jaehwan chuckles, but his laughter feels bitter. “But not everyday.”

“Ah, I guess so,” Taekwoon mutters, and slides a hand up to grasp Jaehwan’s.

“That’s right,” Jaehwan says, and he frowns against the skin of Taekwoon’s neck, and Taekwoon can feel how misaligned and false it feels. And then he wonders how he can even tell, when he’s so new to all of this. Objectively, he’s been new to every single thing that’s happened so far in his life, and perhaps the changing tide means that he should change with it, even if it meant bringing up the unchangeable past.

“You know,” he starts, and for the first time in a long while, doesn’t know how to end. “Your kitchen reminds me of our old dorm.”

Jaehwan sighs, and Taekwoon doesn’t know if it’s because he’s tired or relieved, but it doesn’t matter, because Jaehwan’s voice is clearer when he says, “I was waiting for you to say that. I moved into this house when I was missing the band.”

Taekwoon laughs. “Really?” He turns back to see Jaehwan at the edge of his vision, nodding vigorously. “It’s stupid.”

“I’m glad, though,” Taekwoon says, and refrains from tacking on When you left, I thought I was going crazy on the back of that sentence.

“I,” Jaehwan says, and he fidgets and wiggles his toes against Taekwoon’s. “I remember that you liked to drink coffee by the sink.” His hands tighten around Taekwoon’s waist. “You looked really cool.”

Taekwoon ducks his head down. “You’re seriously embarrassing.” He jabs at Jaehwan with his elbow.

“I’m being honest,” Jaehwan whines. “Hyung, did you remember how I was like back then?”

“I remember your blond hair, and.” Taekwoon pauses. There were so many things to talk about if he wanted to talk about Lee Jaehwan. He settles for “Your dark eye circles.”

“Those dark circles only got there after our second year, hyung,” Jaehwan nags. “Tell me some more.”

Taekwoon’s snort slips out of his mouth before he can contain it. In retaliation, Jaehwan digs his fingers into Taekwoon’s side, and Taekwoon barks out a laugh, and turns around to fight back. Kkulbbangi, startled by the noise, hisses at them.

“She’s angry,” Jaehwan says in between his laughter. “Hyung, she really looks like a loaf of bread. You have a load of bread for a kid.”

Taekwoon huffs, “Not my kid,” but relaxes his chokehold, and Jaehwan wriggles away, laughter still hanging from his lips. Taekwoon watches Kkulbbangi scamper into her carrier.

“Do you wish you could go back?” Jaehwan’s voice is devoid of mirth. The change is jarring, and Taekwoon turns to see him clear his throat. He looks nervous, and Taekwoon wants to wipe the frown off his face, just because.

There’re so many things he can say, but Jaehwan doesn’t seem to be looking for an answer. “Why,” Taekwoon says, and tries to keep his voice even.

Jaehwan starts haltingly. “I didn’t mean to leave…” And Taekwoon’s memories come rushing into the forefront of his mind, dulled and blurry, but he still remembers the most important part. The most important part is that Jaehwan left the company when their contracts expired. Taekwoon signed on with a foolish hope that they would be together still. He was thirty and still naive to the workings of the world.

“...without seeing you first.” Taekwoon jerks up at that, his heart humming against his chest. Perhaps today, he is still his twenty-one year old self, with more lines and a cat. Perhaps Jaehwan is still himself, too.

It’s difficult to want to say anything, but he tries anyway. “What’d you mean?”

“I thought about this a lot over the years, and I seriously think it was a mistake to go when you were training.” Jaehwan’s looking at the ground, his voice so soft that Taekwoon has to scoot forward to hear. “I know I didn’t want to hear what you had to say, but even when I did that, I thought about what you might have said so much.

“Do you know how much I wanted to go up to you to tell you I was leaving over your morning coffee? I told everyone else on the last day but I couldn’t face you.”

Taekwoon tucks his chin into the crook of his elbow and breathes. “Why?” The questions come easier now, because it’s a strange feeling to know exactly what someone’s going to say before they say it.

Jaehwan looks up at him, his mouth firmly shut. Taekwoon has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from grinning.

Things have changed, but nothing is different.

Epilogue, 1 year later

“Mom, I’m really okay,” Taekwoon says. “I’ve been sleeping earlier to help my back like you asked.”

“I know, it’s just that you should have stayed longer in Busan.” She sighs. “I already miss you.”

“I miss you too, mom. It was good to see you.” Taekwoon shoulders his backpack, and nods at Jaehwan, who’s pointing to the main power switch. Jaehwan switches it off. “I have to go, I’ll talk to you next week?”

“Yeah, and call Hakyeon. He talks about you every time he visits with his kid.”

“I will. Bye mom.”

“Bye.”

Taekwoon puts the receiver down. He pats Kkulbbangi’s head, and goes to meet Jaehwan by the door. He’s standing there, with his ratty backpack and shining eyes, expectant.

Taekwoon is momentarily transported back to the glazed afternoon all those years ago, with Jaehwan pointing to his carrier in the deserted alleyway in Cheongnam. Some foreign feeling wells up in him, something so large that Taekwoon doesn’t even try to contain it.

He searches deep within himself, and draws out the only words that resonate in him. “Let’s go.”

At the height of South Korea’s energy crisis, Taekwoon remained in its busiest and most violent city. Taekwoon never told his friends why, even though they always asked. They asked if he was afraid of being in danger on his way out of Seoul, which was false. They asked if it was the only place he knew. That was partially true.

Taekwoon can still remember the look on Jaehwan’s face, remember watching change from hopeful to fierce joy, when he’d told him one day, “I’m going with you.”

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