Fried with Fish, part two.
“He’s not dead!” Kris yells. The man is panting angrily, trying to calm himself down. Kris closes his eyes in another direction, trying to breathe for a second. “He never is.”
It was painfully silent, Luhan not wanting to fight it and Kris being exhausted of anger, when the elevator heading down finally dings. Three people came out, and they entered the lift, Luhan kindly pressing B1 for them both. They dared not talk about anything in the elevator, afraid that people would overhear.
The elevator finally opens for them. The both of them step out of the elevator and walk to the small convenience store at the closer end of the parking lot.
The door rings open for Luhan, Kris following a step behind. It doesn’t take long for Luhan to pick a strip of indigestion pills. He pays for them and hands them to Kris.
“At least start eating out, okay? Take him for a walk.” Luhan started with a soft tone as soon as they get out of the shop. “Maybe Joonmyun-ssi also needs to take a break from all the cooking,” he suggests, smiling.
Kris nods, and shakes the strip of pills in his hands. “Thanks.”
***
“I can’t go to sleep,” Joonmyun huffs, stirring restlessly in bed. It was a dark and cold winter night, the night before Joonmyun’s departure. Tomorrow would be his big day-he and his team would finally leave for Spain for the competition after many months of practice.
Kris softly took Joonmyun’s head and rested it near him. “Sssh,” he hushes, stroking Joonmyun’s hair. It became warmer when they were near, both snuggling under the thick comforter. “You don’t have to be nervous, okay?” he whispered, and kissed wherever was convenient. “Go to sleep.”
Joonmyun moved closer to Kris’ ear with very slight laughter, singing in his light, delicate voice, humming random yet heartfelt lullabies. Snuggling into each other’s warmth, just like that.
The alarm rang disrupted all the silence and peace, set as early as six. Joonmyun shot awake right away, but Kris, on the other hand, stirred for the abruptness, and slowly opened his eyes. Joonmyun moved to the feet’s side of the bed and got off, picking his clothes from the dresser in both the excitement of going and the worry of being late. Joonmyun planned to leave at seven and go to his parents’ house first, before going with them to the airport. His plane was scheduled to leave at two in the afternoon.
“Joonmyun,” Kris croaked, as he finally propped himself to sit with half-opened eyes.
“Hm?” he unfocusedly responded, and left the bedroom to shower already.
Kris sighed, rubbed his own face, and finally gathered enough consciousness to wake up and go to the kitchen. He decided that there would be enough time to make honey pancakes-a favorite western breakfast among them, only eaten on special days like birthdays, midbirthdays and anniversaries.
He heated the pan, made the batter, and made six large pancakes to divide between them, three each. When he poured the last batch of batter, he could hear the bathroom door open and the smell of musk perfume disrupting the aroma of his honey pancake.
“Woooah, is that honey pancake? I love you, Lincoln!” Joonmyun called from his place and closed the bedroom door. Kris only paid full attention to his cooking batter, too busy to holler back. The name Lincoln was a name Joonmyun gave to Kris for being such a tall, skinny, and kindhearted man, only without the beard and the presidential title.
Joonmyun came out of the bedroom dressed so neat in a white shirt and black trousers. It made Kris feel underdressed being only in sweater and shorts. Joonmyun approached him and gave him a quick popo before sitting on the opposite seat.
“You look so jumpy and happy, really,” Kris noted.
“Really?” he asked, taking the chopsticks and rolling them in his fingers. “I'm getting giddy, I guess.” Joonmyun looked excited and hungry, making Kris smile.
“I’m digging in,” Kris mentioned and ate, just so that Joonmyun could start eating.
“I’m digging in,” Joonmyun followed, and picked up the topmost pancake. They ate together in silence.
“I really want to put you in my baggage,” Joonmyun pouted, when they were halfway through the meal. “I want to see Spain with you.”
“You mean I put you in my baggage?”
“Ya, your joke,” Joonmyun protested against the height-related topic.
Kris shrugged with a slight laugh and fetched his halfway eaten pancake looking at Joonmyun.
They resumed eating, and Joonmyun stood to take their plates and wash them as soon as they were done. “It’s gonna be one hell of a week, being a bajillion miles away from you,” Joonmyun said, opening the sink tap.
“Then you better get home soon,” Kris stood up and said beside him.
They left the flat at ten to seven and went to the Kims’ by taxi, the car making its new trail on the snowy street. When they got there, Kris paid, opened the door, and waited for the luggage to be unloaded out of the trunk although he wanted to do it himself.
The both of them thanked the taxi driver once again before going to ring the doorbell. Once they were right in front of the door, Kris looked around for passerbys and CCTV cameras, and stole one good farewell kiss before Joonmyun left for Spain.
"Take care," Kris said, before leaving Joonmyun and letting him meet his parents.
"I will."
It was silent.
"Bye." Kris said.
"Bye," Joonmyun bitterly smiled.
Kris walked through the piercing cold air to the nearest bus stop and sat on its wooden bench. He absentmindedly reached for his phone to unlock it and lock it again, then put it back to his coat pocket. He heard the flapping of wings and turned to see a crow landing on the advertisement post beside him. The crow squawked loudly before flying shortly to the porch of the Kims’ house and sitting there afterwards.
The bus engine could be heard humming from the end of the block. It stopped in front of Kris and hissed loudly as the door opened. He hopped in and pressed his card, then sat near the window, the crow turning its head following the bus as if staring.
As the bus rolled further away along with his thoughts, Kris decided that he should stop by and shop for the week, the fridge and cupboards running low on almost everything. He got off four stops after, bought groceries, and went straight home.
He only made noodles for lunch because he did not feel like making anything, so he slurped quickly, washed his dishes, and decided that cleaning up would be the right thing to do to spend time.
He made the bed, and swept the floor. He only paused when he saw Joonmyun’s textbook, and hurriedly reached for his phone because he almost forgot to make the phone call. It was quarter past one-Joonmyun could’ve boarded already. He stuck the phone to his ear.
Beep.
Beep.
“Hello?” Joonmyun greeted.
“Hi,”Kris replied sighing with relief. “I thought you left already.”
Kris could feel the smile over the phone. “Almost. It’s something like ten more minutes before we get really called.”
“Thank goodness,” Kris rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Is the airport snowing?”
“The whole entire globe is snowing, stupid,” Joonmyun replied, and they both laughed. “It is, just slightly. I’ll call you when it rains octopus, okay? Bye, Jagi-”
“No wait!”
“Yes?”
Kris looked down to his white socks. “I miss you already.” He looked away to the window. “Win the thing for me?”
“I will,” Joonmyun smiled as he gave the promise. “I gotta go, okay?”
Kris nodded, as if Joonmyun could see. “I love you.”
It took another beat for Joonmyun to say, “I love you,” before hanging up. Kris sighed in warmth and put his phone near the TV, then resumed the cleaning up. He swept, he mopped, and he finally collected the trash-some old, stacking papers, some kitchen waste, some random candy wrappers they forgot to throw away. He saw his old, unused notes as he sorted through, the papers a bitter reminder that he would only have another year in college-he didn’t want to face real life just yet.
He finally managed to get all his trashes into its bag. He tied the black bag and went out the door.
Throwing away garbage in a gloomy winter evening was not Kris’ favorite pastime, although there was a garbage outlet outside at the end of the level to eliminate the trouble for everyone. He threw his garbage bag down the vent, and leaned on the apartment railing for a while to at least appreciate his hard work today. He took out his phone and keys from his coat and started playing with it for a bit, although it was stinging cold for his gloveless hands. Joonmyun’s plane had flown for some good four and a half hours by now.
His hands suddenly jerked open, maybe for the cold, that he almost dropped both his items. He managed to save his phone, but not the keys. It made a soft clank and a dark spot in the middle of the snow.
Kris sighed, “Bummer,” and went to the elevator. Luckily, it arrived fast enough this time. He opened his phone’s RSS inside the elevator, waiting for the door to ding open.
He made it to ground floor. He locked his phone, went outside, took his keys from the snow, took to the elevator, and went back to his room.
He sighed as he closed the door and opened his coat. He threw himself on the couch and resumed the activity on his phone. He opened his news feed and shot straight up when he saw the headline link.
Airplane Crash at Sea, Fifty Pronounced Dead
***
Kris woke up one morning to sunrays filtering through his dusty peach curtains. He had one hand on the other pillow on his bed, and he smiled sleepily while rubbing goop off his eyes, seeing the white wall while still half asleep. Kris dragged his hand slowly off that pillow, and moved his body carefully away from the bed, as if not wanting to disrupt the peace.
He looked at the dull, peach-curtained window and chuckled. He hadn’t had the time or money to decide the design of his flat when he first searched for one in Seoul five years ago. Everything was pricey, every place loaded with people, everything was hectic. No heavy traffic jam in his old town could match the street clog on an ordinary Seoul day.
Kris groggily walked to the shower and rubbed his face again before he opened the container behind the mirror. He wanted honey pancakes. He saw his bottles of aspirin, some old green pills, and a slim, half-emptied bottle of a golden-toned musk perfume. He closed the container, sleepily washed his face, and took a quick shower.
With a towel tucked on his hip he searched into his dresser and found a dress shirt to wear today. He went on to button his pale-purplish shirt, wear the rest of his clothing, apply perfume, and crawled on his gray-sheeted bed to inhale the dusty, forever plump pillow beside his, finally kissing it before crawling off the bed and leaving the bedroom. He opened the fridge to make two chocolate sandwiches and pour two glasses of milk, sparing one on the table before leaving.
He took the elevator down, entered the sidewalk and mingled with running people in various shapes-unfocused salarymen in dress shirts like him, busy ladies walking through with a phone on their cheeks, to the occasional ditching schoolgirls in their uniforms going god knows where. He went quickly to the subway station, swiped his card, and waited impatiently, feet tapping anxiously against the tiled floor.
The train arrived and he squished in. It was so crowded that standing in the train holding onto nothing was even enough to remain balanced.
The office was already buzzing when he got there. He quickly went through the lobby, did his fingerprint scan, and rushed to his table to at least start looking occupied. He turned to the clock and saw that it was quarter to nine, relieved that no one saw his ungraceful entrance. He just wanted to go back home and enjoy the scent of that golden perfume.
The email reminder on the corner of his monitor said he had a meeting at ten. He glanced at the clock, looks at the pile of paper at his desk, and sighed. He wanted to go home.
Kris left the office at four sharp, and arrived at home at almost six. His work wasn’t so far away, it was the heavy traffic. He unlocked his flat door and heard the taps of the leaking sink as he opened his shoes. He put his briefcase and coat on the arm of his sofa and closed his eyes solemnly, smiling while lowering his head. His spine crawled with warmth.
He opened his eyes slowly and saw the small dining room: the dining table placed against the wall, the small window behind it, and the leaking sink on its left. He walked towards it slowly and sat down in front of the chocolate sandwich and spoilt milk he left this morning.
He saw the dry bread, ants almost finished eating its crust in nine hours. He touched the bread and the ants started running away, some crawling up his hand. He banged the plate on the table for a bit, then started eating the bread. He drank along the milk; not as sour as he had predicted.
As soon as he finished his putrid meal, he put the dishes on the sink and started washing them.
The next day, Kris wore yellow.
***
Kris’ shoulders shook greatly as if he was shivering, but it was for the news, not the winter. He stared blankly into the bus’ platform and his snow-wetted sneakers, sitting at the middle back seat as the only passenger in the earliest bus.
The bus dinged again on another stop. A woman, possibly a young mother, got in. Kris snapped out his reverie and looked around, realizing that his destination was only two more stops away. He tried to raise his alertness, although he still looked helplessly dazed and hollow.
Kris got off at the SNU General Hospital stop. He received the information to go here the next morning after calling the National SAR Office about the plane crash. He obeyed and followed whatever the phone attendant told him to do.
He walked towards the building and looked up and around as he walked through, as if amused.
Inside, he saw a kid waiting with his dad, a pregnant woman in a hospital gown, and nurses chatting through medical masks in hushed voices. He kept walking until he was stopped by a woman from behind, most possibly a nurse, but in a different outfit.
“We are sorry, Sir, but we do not allow visitors to roam through our wards. Do you happen to have someone you want to visit?”
Kris seemed confused, and did not know what to answer, until he heard sirens and snapping cameras and a breaking crowd, followed by women wailing. He rushed to the sounds.
“Sir!” the attendee called, too far away.
Obnoxious cameras and their noisy blitz made a black, vested human barrier, keeping the wailing women and the ongoing chain of orange body bags apart. Guards came rushing calmly, pushing away the forceful journalists outside, and keeping the morgue lift from the mob of mothers.
The guards somehow managed to keep the doors open only for the ambulance, the ambience of yelling news hunters seeping through the open doors. They kept the curious, heartbroken mothers on a safe distance from the ongoing transfer of bodies.
Kris had himself shivering in the scale of the scenery, slow tears dropping from his eyes without him even being aware of it.
A warm-eyed nurse took him by his jacket sleeve and made him sit on one of the waiting seats. “You seem shocked white,” she said with a calming tone among the panicked crowd. She looked like someone who would pat his head softly and wipe his tears, but due to manners, she refrained.
A doctor called her and she obliged, pardoning herself before leaving Kris on the waiting seat.
A woman was brought by her husband further away from the scene, in front of Kris. She hugged her husband and cried her lungs out, her husband calming her as he secretly cried at the same time.
Kris turned to his left towards the crowd when the noises changed. The women wailed louder, the unloading ambulances leaving the scene. They wanted access to wherever their children were, crying, pleading to the guards. The woman in front of him cried harder.
Slowly, the lobby cleared, and returned to silence, as the mothers were starting to get tired of crying and left the scene to directly go to the morgue.
Two hours later, a nurse came out of the morgue with a clipboard and a pen in her hands. The mothers stood up and started surrounding her with questions.
“Calm down, Ma’am, please calm down.” She exclaimed. When the crowd subdued, she continued. “Please raise your hand when I call the names of the relatives you are looking for, and I will take you inside for confirmation. Please, sit down, and I will call the names one by one.”
She looked to the eyes of the mothers when they have sat calmly, and started calling. “Ahn Miyoung-ssi.”
A mother, her husband, and her daughter, stood up and followed the nurse inside the morgue.
It was silent outside, everyone consumed in their own anxiety. Kris could only watch the scenery-he could not quite feel anything, as if he was numb and did not understand feelings. His eyes remained empty as he sat at the corner.
It took fifteen minutes for the first family to come out of the morgue, all of them crying worse than before. People start buzzing and turning anxious for the next name.
Names, names, and names passed for the next hour, until,
“Kim Joonmyun-ssi.”
Joonmyun's parents and hyung, sitting on the other end of the hallway, stood up with him. The nurse escorted them in, and saw him at the back, and offered him entrance with a gesture. He froze and trembled greatly in his place, his mouth mute, his knees jelly.
“Do you want to enter, Sir?” she asked loudly from her place.
He shook his head slowly, shivering.
The nurse entered the morgue, and he fell back to his seat, eyes shaking. People in the waiting space started looking at him in concern and wonder. He decided to leave and gathered enough strength to stand and walk with floppy legs to the elevator.
When the elevator door opened for him, he stepped, and almost tripped. He grabbed on the cold metal railing and held on.
Kris somehow managed to make it outside the hospital on his feet. He stopped a taxi. He wanted solitude. He did not want any human voices. He did not want to be crammed with people.
He stepped into the cab.
The driver looked up to the rear mirror waiting for an address to go to, but seeing that his current passenger seemed almost deranged, he asked, “Your destination, Sir?”
“…D…” he tried, but it was as if he was mute. He tried again, and stuttered. “D…d…”
“Sir!”
“D-“ Kris coughed, “D…dongjak… Gu…”
The driver looked to the road with an exasperated sigh, finally able to start the journey.
When he arrived, he paid, got off, and looked up to his room there on the sixth floor. He looked down to the snow-glossed sidewalk, and put his hand into his coat pocket. When he held his keys, reality finally hit him like a freight train. Hot tears squeezed out of his eyes and felt almost boiling against his freezing cheeks. He realized that this was an open space, so he tried his best to wipe all the evidences of crying, and entered the building with ragged breaths, hand still holding the keys tight.
He stepped out of the elevator, walked down his wing, and took out his keys when he was at the door. His hand was trembling. So was his other hand, the one holding on to the wall. He cried again to the rush of memories with the apartment, this time, for pretty long.
With sobs he managed to unlock the door, after again, wiping his face. The lights was on, when he had left it off. He looked around in wonder, as the house felt livelier than ever before. He toed off his shoes slowly, walked in, and heard the sound of the television, even when it was off. From near the TV he could hear the sink draining with flowing water and clanking dishes, a soft, thin voice singing in between. He walked further, to the right of his bedroom door, and heard himself and Joonmyun laughing inside. He turned his head back ahead, to the dining room, and saw the leaking tap, heard the pretty voice, and saw the snow falling softly beyond the window. He stepped closer, and closer to the dining table, and saw in his place a hot, full bowl of ginger chicken soup.
***
"You want to eat out or go to noraebang? This is a good time to bond with your coworkers," Luhan offered when it was nearing the end of the shift; something like 3 PM. "If you really don't want to, you can just, you know, hide in the corner and pretend to laugh along. At least you're not the maknae at the workplace anymore so people won't really notice if you went out of sight, hm?"
Luhan is so good at coaxing people into the same vision and understanding that Kris wondered why he was stranded here in the Credits Department instead of somewhere in Marketing. He nodded to the offer not long after, the group of men holding a promise to meet up at six.
Kris is having a slightly thicker stack of work that he had to show up the last downstairs. People are pretty excited to spend the Friday night out already, until their excitement deflated like an untied balloon when Kris arrived.
Out of the eight people outside Luhan, four immediately pardoned themselves due to very important businesses somewhere else--which most likely is coming home to their wives. Luhan had to let them go.
The other four finally finds their appropriate excuses to slip out of the nightmare of having to eat out with that crazy Puke Stick.
"...sorry for... that," Luhan starts as soon as everyone's gone. "We... We still can go grab some noodles or pork hotpots somewhere," Luhan offers, the regret thick in his eyes. "Do you still want to go?"
"I worked slightly overtime for this outing. I thought that this would be the right time to get to know the hyungs, you know."
"So...? Are you... going? You won't reach the objective of approaching the hyungs because they've left now."
"We can still grab pork hotpot somewhere. I want one."
"Great," Luhan smiles.
"Sorry for pooping the party before it even started," Kris says.
"I'm the one who should be sorry," Luhan offers, but starts walking anyway. "Come on. We'll get us something good to eat."
They finally do end up in a hot pot restaurant as Luhan have suggested, downing one bottle of beer each already; it was all Luhan's might to stop the both of them from asking for any more bottles-he wasn't here to come home a drunken fool.
They walk out of the restaurant sober enough-although Kris still really wants one more shot. They walk down the yellow-lamped, savoury-smelling pedestrian street to the bus station, but Luhan stops halfway because he remembers wanting to take Kris somewhere. Kris stops, and follows wherever Luhan goes.
They stop in front of a block of noraebangs, Luhan already holding to one of its doors.
"I... don't want to noraebang right now..." Kris slowly declines as Luhan holds onto its glass door. Unlike the other, this one has a bright lighted interior and a glass door.
"It's not noraebang, Kris. Come on in."
He looks at Luhan in utter suspicion, but finally enters the place following his friend.
"I almost forgot that I have an appointment for you here," Luhan says, on their way to the front desk.
Kris has just asked, "Why would you book an appointment in my name?" when a male nurse approaches them and asks for Kris-ssi.
Kris suspiciously enters the room he is escorted into, and Luhan looks at the nurse as if in a mutual prayer.
Inside, Kris is greeted with a white, spacious room, an old doctor, and a red, velvet, relaxation seat.
The room makes him want to choke Luhan to bits. He politely pardons himself and grabs Luhan harshly by the wrist as soon as he sees him.
He pulls Luhan outside and looks up to the sign. Confirmed.
"You. are trying to take me. to a therapist?!" Kris yells angrily.
"I... I was trying to get it to you somehow... You... y-you do need it, Kris," Luhan stutters in fear.
It turns silent, Kris still gripping Luhan's wrist. Kris released his grip.
"I thought I finally had a friend that would believe in me, Luhan.”
Luhan couldn't bring himself to speak.
"I thought seeing people leave a night out just because I was there was bad enough, Luhan. I've had enough of being called crazy, and I don’t even understand why! You think I don't hear what people say of me?! You think I don't know what they think of me?!" Kris yelled. "I thought it was bad enough to have everyone call you crazy, but suddenly your only friend you pretty trust out there takes you to a goddamned therapist! What kind of sick fuck is that?!"
As soon as Kris finishes venting, Luhan looks down, and Kris looks away.
"I... I was just trying..."
Kris turns to him and says, "Thanks for the meal," before leaving him alone in front of the therapist's practice.
He walks to the bus stop and spends the whole ride with anger bubbling in his stomach. He was right after all-there's no one out there he can trust.
He unlocks the door to his apartment and goes to sit on his bed. He takes deep breaths and tries to forget his anger-but he cannot. He looks up and sees Joonmyun's neat, old desk. He steps there, and runs his fingers over all the books and notes, some still containing Joonmyun's unforgettably neat handwriting.
He opens the dresser and smells the scent of an old, dusty dresser. Some of Joonmyun's clothes and notes he hid when Mrs. Kim asked for them, just to prolong his presence here. Kris was desperate to keep any remnants of Joonmyun in his life. He walks to the peach curtain and opens it slightly, taking a black tin jar behind it.
He opens the black lid to unveil a clear lid beneath.
Gray ashes. Remnants of Joonmyun.
His heart hitches.
Maybe Luhan was just trying to tell him the truth after all.
Whatever was left of Kris suddenly broke into pieces as he realizes that maybe, he is crazy for all this time. He turns to the pillows behind him and takes Joonmyun's, hugging it so tight as he tries so hard not to cry.
He cries eventually, his mind repeating a continuous string of "He's dead" over and over.
Kris looks up when he hears knocking on his bedroom door.
Joonmyun enters the room in his usual shirt-and-shorts with a warm glass of tea, his eyes filled with concern as he approaches Kris.
He sits beside the sobbing Kris with crossed legs, like he used to. Kris bites his lip so hard just so he wouldn't cry harder. Joonmyun strokes his hair dearly, and puts his soft, warm hands over Kris', over the black jar of his own ash. He puts his hand on Kris' cheek and wipes the tears with his thumb.
"Uljima yo," Joonmyun mouthes, no sound coming out of his mouth.
Kris dips his head as his heart breaks and he cries further, squeezing all the tears out of his eyes, wetting his hands. His pants. The ash jar.
Today is August the 14th , their fifth Midbirthday.
It was painfully silent, Luhan not wanting to fight it and Kris being exhausted of anger, when the elevator heading down finally dings. Three people came out, and they entered the lift, Luhan kindly pressing B1 for them both. They dared not talk about anything in the elevator, afraid that people would overhear.
The elevator finally opens for them. The both of them step out of the elevator and walk to the small convenience store at the closer end of the parking lot.
The door rings open for Luhan, Kris following a step behind. It doesn’t take long for Luhan to pick a strip of indigestion pills. He pays for them and hands them to Kris.
“At least start eating out, okay? Take him for a walk.” Luhan started with a soft tone as soon as they get out of the shop. “Maybe Joonmyun-ssi also needs to take a break from all the cooking,” he suggests, smiling.
Kris nods, and shakes the strip of pills in his hands. “Thanks.”
***
“I can’t go to sleep,” Joonmyun huffs, stirring restlessly in bed. It was a dark and cold winter night, the night before Joonmyun’s departure. Tomorrow would be his big day-he and his team would finally leave for Spain for the competition after many months of practice.
Kris softly took Joonmyun’s head and rested it near him. “Sssh,” he hushes, stroking Joonmyun’s hair. It became warmer when they were near, both snuggling under the thick comforter. “You don’t have to be nervous, okay?” he whispered, and kissed wherever was convenient. “Go to sleep.”
Joonmyun moved closer to Kris’ ear with very slight laughter, singing in his light, delicate voice, humming random yet heartfelt lullabies. Snuggling into each other’s warmth, just like that.
The alarm rang disrupted all the silence and peace, set as early as six. Joonmyun shot awake right away, but Kris, on the other hand, stirred for the abruptness, and slowly opened his eyes. Joonmyun moved to the feet’s side of the bed and got off, picking his clothes from the dresser in both the excitement of going and the worry of being late. Joonmyun planned to leave at seven and go to his parents’ house first, before going with them to the airport. His plane was scheduled to leave at two in the afternoon.
“Joonmyun,” Kris croaked, as he finally propped himself to sit with half-opened eyes.
“Hm?” he unfocusedly responded, and left the bedroom to shower already.
Kris sighed, rubbed his own face, and finally gathered enough consciousness to wake up and go to the kitchen. He decided that there would be enough time to make honey pancakes-a favorite western breakfast among them, only eaten on special days like birthdays, midbirthdays and anniversaries.
He heated the pan, made the batter, and made six large pancakes to divide between them, three each. When he poured the last batch of batter, he could hear the bathroom door open and the smell of musk perfume disrupting the aroma of his honey pancake.
“Woooah, is that honey pancake? I love you, Lincoln!” Joonmyun called from his place and closed the bedroom door. Kris only paid full attention to his cooking batter, too busy to holler back. The name Lincoln was a name Joonmyun gave to Kris for being such a tall, skinny, and kindhearted man, only without the beard and the presidential title.
Joonmyun came out of the bedroom dressed so neat in a white shirt and black trousers. It made Kris feel underdressed being only in sweater and shorts. Joonmyun approached him and gave him a quick popo before sitting on the opposite seat.
“You look so jumpy and happy, really,” Kris noted.
“Really?” he asked, taking the chopsticks and rolling them in his fingers. “I'm getting giddy, I guess.” Joonmyun looked excited and hungry, making Kris smile.
“I’m digging in,” Kris mentioned and ate, just so that Joonmyun could start eating.
“I’m digging in,” Joonmyun followed, and picked up the topmost pancake. They ate together in silence.
“I really want to put you in my baggage,” Joonmyun pouted, when they were halfway through the meal. “I want to see Spain with you.”
“You mean I put you in my baggage?”
“Ya, your joke,” Joonmyun protested against the height-related topic.
Kris shrugged with a slight laugh and fetched his halfway eaten pancake looking at Joonmyun.
They resumed eating, and Joonmyun stood to take their plates and wash them as soon as they were done. “It’s gonna be one hell of a week, being a bajillion miles away from you,” Joonmyun said, opening the sink tap.
“Then you better get home soon,” Kris stood up and said beside him.
They left the flat at ten to seven and went to the Kims’ by taxi, the car making its new trail on the snowy street. When they got there, Kris paid, opened the door, and waited for the luggage to be unloaded out of the trunk although he wanted to do it himself.
The both of them thanked the taxi driver once again before going to ring the doorbell. Once they were right in front of the door, Kris looked around for passerbys and CCTV cameras, and stole one good farewell kiss before Joonmyun left for Spain.
"Take care," Kris said, before leaving Joonmyun and letting him meet his parents.
"I will."
It was silent.
"Bye." Kris said.
"Bye," Joonmyun bitterly smiled.
Kris walked through the piercing cold air to the nearest bus stop and sat on its wooden bench. He absentmindedly reached for his phone to unlock it and lock it again, then put it back to his coat pocket. He heard the flapping of wings and turned to see a crow landing on the advertisement post beside him. The crow squawked loudly before flying shortly to the porch of the Kims’ house and sitting there afterwards.
The bus engine could be heard humming from the end of the block. It stopped in front of Kris and hissed loudly as the door opened. He hopped in and pressed his card, then sat near the window, the crow turning its head following the bus as if staring.
As the bus rolled further away along with his thoughts, Kris decided that he should stop by and shop for the week, the fridge and cupboards running low on almost everything. He got off four stops after, bought groceries, and went straight home.
He only made noodles for lunch because he did not feel like making anything, so he slurped quickly, washed his dishes, and decided that cleaning up would be the right thing to do to spend time.
He made the bed, and swept the floor. He only paused when he saw Joonmyun’s textbook, and hurriedly reached for his phone because he almost forgot to make the phone call. It was quarter past one-Joonmyun could’ve boarded already. He stuck the phone to his ear.
Beep.
Beep.
“Hello?” Joonmyun greeted.
“Hi,”Kris replied sighing with relief. “I thought you left already.”
Kris could feel the smile over the phone. “Almost. It’s something like ten more minutes before we get really called.”
“Thank goodness,” Kris rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Is the airport snowing?”
“The whole entire globe is snowing, stupid,” Joonmyun replied, and they both laughed. “It is, just slightly. I’ll call you when it rains octopus, okay? Bye, Jagi-”
“No wait!”
“Yes?”
Kris looked down to his white socks. “I miss you already.” He looked away to the window. “Win the thing for me?”
“I will,” Joonmyun smiled as he gave the promise. “I gotta go, okay?”
Kris nodded, as if Joonmyun could see. “I love you.”
It took another beat for Joonmyun to say, “I love you,” before hanging up. Kris sighed in warmth and put his phone near the TV, then resumed the cleaning up. He swept, he mopped, and he finally collected the trash-some old, stacking papers, some kitchen waste, some random candy wrappers they forgot to throw away. He saw his old, unused notes as he sorted through, the papers a bitter reminder that he would only have another year in college-he didn’t want to face real life just yet.
He finally managed to get all his trashes into its bag. He tied the black bag and went out the door.
Throwing away garbage in a gloomy winter evening was not Kris’ favorite pastime, although there was a garbage outlet outside at the end of the level to eliminate the trouble for everyone. He threw his garbage bag down the vent, and leaned on the apartment railing for a while to at least appreciate his hard work today. He took out his phone and keys from his coat and started playing with it for a bit, although it was stinging cold for his gloveless hands. Joonmyun’s plane had flown for some good four and a half hours by now.
His hands suddenly jerked open, maybe for the cold, that he almost dropped both his items. He managed to save his phone, but not the keys. It made a soft clank and a dark spot in the middle of the snow.
Kris sighed, “Bummer,” and went to the elevator. Luckily, it arrived fast enough this time. He opened his phone’s RSS inside the elevator, waiting for the door to ding open.
He made it to ground floor. He locked his phone, went outside, took his keys from the snow, took to the elevator, and went back to his room.
He sighed as he closed the door and opened his coat. He threw himself on the couch and resumed the activity on his phone. He opened his news feed and shot straight up when he saw the headline link.
Airplane Crash at Sea, Fifty Pronounced Dead
***
Kris woke up one morning to sunrays filtering through his dusty peach curtains. He had one hand on the other pillow on his bed, and he smiled sleepily while rubbing goop off his eyes, seeing the white wall while still half asleep. Kris dragged his hand slowly off that pillow, and moved his body carefully away from the bed, as if not wanting to disrupt the peace.
He looked at the dull, peach-curtained window and chuckled. He hadn’t had the time or money to decide the design of his flat when he first searched for one in Seoul five years ago. Everything was pricey, every place loaded with people, everything was hectic. No heavy traffic jam in his old town could match the street clog on an ordinary Seoul day.
Kris groggily walked to the shower and rubbed his face again before he opened the container behind the mirror. He wanted honey pancakes. He saw his bottles of aspirin, some old green pills, and a slim, half-emptied bottle of a golden-toned musk perfume. He closed the container, sleepily washed his face, and took a quick shower.
With a towel tucked on his hip he searched into his dresser and found a dress shirt to wear today. He went on to button his pale-purplish shirt, wear the rest of his clothing, apply perfume, and crawled on his gray-sheeted bed to inhale the dusty, forever plump pillow beside his, finally kissing it before crawling off the bed and leaving the bedroom. He opened the fridge to make two chocolate sandwiches and pour two glasses of milk, sparing one on the table before leaving.
He took the elevator down, entered the sidewalk and mingled with running people in various shapes-unfocused salarymen in dress shirts like him, busy ladies walking through with a phone on their cheeks, to the occasional ditching schoolgirls in their uniforms going god knows where. He went quickly to the subway station, swiped his card, and waited impatiently, feet tapping anxiously against the tiled floor.
The train arrived and he squished in. It was so crowded that standing in the train holding onto nothing was even enough to remain balanced.
The office was already buzzing when he got there. He quickly went through the lobby, did his fingerprint scan, and rushed to his table to at least start looking occupied. He turned to the clock and saw that it was quarter to nine, relieved that no one saw his ungraceful entrance. He just wanted to go back home and enjoy the scent of that golden perfume.
The email reminder on the corner of his monitor said he had a meeting at ten. He glanced at the clock, looks at the pile of paper at his desk, and sighed. He wanted to go home.
Kris left the office at four sharp, and arrived at home at almost six. His work wasn’t so far away, it was the heavy traffic. He unlocked his flat door and heard the taps of the leaking sink as he opened his shoes. He put his briefcase and coat on the arm of his sofa and closed his eyes solemnly, smiling while lowering his head. His spine crawled with warmth.
He opened his eyes slowly and saw the small dining room: the dining table placed against the wall, the small window behind it, and the leaking sink on its left. He walked towards it slowly and sat down in front of the chocolate sandwich and spoilt milk he left this morning.
He saw the dry bread, ants almost finished eating its crust in nine hours. He touched the bread and the ants started running away, some crawling up his hand. He banged the plate on the table for a bit, then started eating the bread. He drank along the milk; not as sour as he had predicted.
As soon as he finished his putrid meal, he put the dishes on the sink and started washing them.
The next day, Kris wore yellow.
***
Kris’ shoulders shook greatly as if he was shivering, but it was for the news, not the winter. He stared blankly into the bus’ platform and his snow-wetted sneakers, sitting at the middle back seat as the only passenger in the earliest bus.
The bus dinged again on another stop. A woman, possibly a young mother, got in. Kris snapped out his reverie and looked around, realizing that his destination was only two more stops away. He tried to raise his alertness, although he still looked helplessly dazed and hollow.
Kris got off at the SNU General Hospital stop. He received the information to go here the next morning after calling the National SAR Office about the plane crash. He obeyed and followed whatever the phone attendant told him to do.
He walked towards the building and looked up and around as he walked through, as if amused.
Inside, he saw a kid waiting with his dad, a pregnant woman in a hospital gown, and nurses chatting through medical masks in hushed voices. He kept walking until he was stopped by a woman from behind, most possibly a nurse, but in a different outfit.
“We are sorry, Sir, but we do not allow visitors to roam through our wards. Do you happen to have someone you want to visit?”
Kris seemed confused, and did not know what to answer, until he heard sirens and snapping cameras and a breaking crowd, followed by women wailing. He rushed to the sounds.
“Sir!” the attendee called, too far away.
Obnoxious cameras and their noisy blitz made a black, vested human barrier, keeping the wailing women and the ongoing chain of orange body bags apart. Guards came rushing calmly, pushing away the forceful journalists outside, and keeping the morgue lift from the mob of mothers.
The guards somehow managed to keep the doors open only for the ambulance, the ambience of yelling news hunters seeping through the open doors. They kept the curious, heartbroken mothers on a safe distance from the ongoing transfer of bodies.
Kris had himself shivering in the scale of the scenery, slow tears dropping from his eyes without him even being aware of it.
A warm-eyed nurse took him by his jacket sleeve and made him sit on one of the waiting seats. “You seem shocked white,” she said with a calming tone among the panicked crowd. She looked like someone who would pat his head softly and wipe his tears, but due to manners, she refrained.
A doctor called her and she obliged, pardoning herself before leaving Kris on the waiting seat.
A woman was brought by her husband further away from the scene, in front of Kris. She hugged her husband and cried her lungs out, her husband calming her as he secretly cried at the same time.
Kris turned to his left towards the crowd when the noises changed. The women wailed louder, the unloading ambulances leaving the scene. They wanted access to wherever their children were, crying, pleading to the guards. The woman in front of him cried harder.
Slowly, the lobby cleared, and returned to silence, as the mothers were starting to get tired of crying and left the scene to directly go to the morgue.
Two hours later, a nurse came out of the morgue with a clipboard and a pen in her hands. The mothers stood up and started surrounding her with questions.
“Calm down, Ma’am, please calm down.” She exclaimed. When the crowd subdued, she continued. “Please raise your hand when I call the names of the relatives you are looking for, and I will take you inside for confirmation. Please, sit down, and I will call the names one by one.”
She looked to the eyes of the mothers when they have sat calmly, and started calling. “Ahn Miyoung-ssi.”
A mother, her husband, and her daughter, stood up and followed the nurse inside the morgue.
It was silent outside, everyone consumed in their own anxiety. Kris could only watch the scenery-he could not quite feel anything, as if he was numb and did not understand feelings. His eyes remained empty as he sat at the corner.
It took fifteen minutes for the first family to come out of the morgue, all of them crying worse than before. People start buzzing and turning anxious for the next name.
Names, names, and names passed for the next hour, until,
“Kim Joonmyun-ssi.”
Joonmyun's parents and hyung, sitting on the other end of the hallway, stood up with him. The nurse escorted them in, and saw him at the back, and offered him entrance with a gesture. He froze and trembled greatly in his place, his mouth mute, his knees jelly.
“Do you want to enter, Sir?” she asked loudly from her place.
He shook his head slowly, shivering.
The nurse entered the morgue, and he fell back to his seat, eyes shaking. People in the waiting space started looking at him in concern and wonder. He decided to leave and gathered enough strength to stand and walk with floppy legs to the elevator.
When the elevator door opened for him, he stepped, and almost tripped. He grabbed on the cold metal railing and held on.
Kris somehow managed to make it outside the hospital on his feet. He stopped a taxi. He wanted solitude. He did not want any human voices. He did not want to be crammed with people.
He stepped into the cab.
The driver looked up to the rear mirror waiting for an address to go to, but seeing that his current passenger seemed almost deranged, he asked, “Your destination, Sir?”
“…D…” he tried, but it was as if he was mute. He tried again, and stuttered. “D…d…”
“Sir!”
“D-“ Kris coughed, “D…dongjak… Gu…”
The driver looked to the road with an exasperated sigh, finally able to start the journey.
When he arrived, he paid, got off, and looked up to his room there on the sixth floor. He looked down to the snow-glossed sidewalk, and put his hand into his coat pocket. When he held his keys, reality finally hit him like a freight train. Hot tears squeezed out of his eyes and felt almost boiling against his freezing cheeks. He realized that this was an open space, so he tried his best to wipe all the evidences of crying, and entered the building with ragged breaths, hand still holding the keys tight.
He stepped out of the elevator, walked down his wing, and took out his keys when he was at the door. His hand was trembling. So was his other hand, the one holding on to the wall. He cried again to the rush of memories with the apartment, this time, for pretty long.
With sobs he managed to unlock the door, after again, wiping his face. The lights was on, when he had left it off. He looked around in wonder, as the house felt livelier than ever before. He toed off his shoes slowly, walked in, and heard the sound of the television, even when it was off. From near the TV he could hear the sink draining with flowing water and clanking dishes, a soft, thin voice singing in between. He walked further, to the right of his bedroom door, and heard himself and Joonmyun laughing inside. He turned his head back ahead, to the dining room, and saw the leaking tap, heard the pretty voice, and saw the snow falling softly beyond the window. He stepped closer, and closer to the dining table, and saw in his place a hot, full bowl of ginger chicken soup.
***
"You want to eat out or go to noraebang? This is a good time to bond with your coworkers," Luhan offered when it was nearing the end of the shift; something like 3 PM. "If you really don't want to, you can just, you know, hide in the corner and pretend to laugh along. At least you're not the maknae at the workplace anymore so people won't really notice if you went out of sight, hm?"
Luhan is so good at coaxing people into the same vision and understanding that Kris wondered why he was stranded here in the Credits Department instead of somewhere in Marketing. He nodded to the offer not long after, the group of men holding a promise to meet up at six.
Kris is having a slightly thicker stack of work that he had to show up the last downstairs. People are pretty excited to spend the Friday night out already, until their excitement deflated like an untied balloon when Kris arrived.
Out of the eight people outside Luhan, four immediately pardoned themselves due to very important businesses somewhere else--which most likely is coming home to their wives. Luhan had to let them go.
The other four finally finds their appropriate excuses to slip out of the nightmare of having to eat out with that crazy Puke Stick.
"...sorry for... that," Luhan starts as soon as everyone's gone. "We... We still can go grab some noodles or pork hotpots somewhere," Luhan offers, the regret thick in his eyes. "Do you still want to go?"
"I worked slightly overtime for this outing. I thought that this would be the right time to get to know the hyungs, you know."
"So...? Are you... going? You won't reach the objective of approaching the hyungs because they've left now."
"We can still grab pork hotpot somewhere. I want one."
"Great," Luhan smiles.
"Sorry for pooping the party before it even started," Kris says.
"I'm the one who should be sorry," Luhan offers, but starts walking anyway. "Come on. We'll get us something good to eat."
They finally do end up in a hot pot restaurant as Luhan have suggested, downing one bottle of beer each already; it was all Luhan's might to stop the both of them from asking for any more bottles-he wasn't here to come home a drunken fool.
They walk out of the restaurant sober enough-although Kris still really wants one more shot. They walk down the yellow-lamped, savoury-smelling pedestrian street to the bus station, but Luhan stops halfway because he remembers wanting to take Kris somewhere. Kris stops, and follows wherever Luhan goes.
They stop in front of a block of noraebangs, Luhan already holding to one of its doors.
"I... don't want to noraebang right now..." Kris slowly declines as Luhan holds onto its glass door. Unlike the other, this one has a bright lighted interior and a glass door.
"It's not noraebang, Kris. Come on in."
He looks at Luhan in utter suspicion, but finally enters the place following his friend.
"I almost forgot that I have an appointment for you here," Luhan says, on their way to the front desk.
Kris has just asked, "Why would you book an appointment in my name?" when a male nurse approaches them and asks for Kris-ssi.
Kris suspiciously enters the room he is escorted into, and Luhan looks at the nurse as if in a mutual prayer.
Inside, Kris is greeted with a white, spacious room, an old doctor, and a red, velvet, relaxation seat.
The room makes him want to choke Luhan to bits. He politely pardons himself and grabs Luhan harshly by the wrist as soon as he sees him.
He pulls Luhan outside and looks up to the sign. Confirmed.
"You. are trying to take me. to a therapist?!" Kris yells angrily.
"I... I was trying to get it to you somehow... You... y-you do need it, Kris," Luhan stutters in fear.
It turns silent, Kris still gripping Luhan's wrist. Kris released his grip.
"I thought I finally had a friend that would believe in me, Luhan.”
Luhan couldn't bring himself to speak.
"I thought seeing people leave a night out just because I was there was bad enough, Luhan. I've had enough of being called crazy, and I don’t even understand why! You think I don't hear what people say of me?! You think I don't know what they think of me?!" Kris yelled. "I thought it was bad enough to have everyone call you crazy, but suddenly your only friend you pretty trust out there takes you to a goddamned therapist! What kind of sick fuck is that?!"
As soon as Kris finishes venting, Luhan looks down, and Kris looks away.
"I... I was just trying..."
Kris turns to him and says, "Thanks for the meal," before leaving him alone in front of the therapist's practice.
He walks to the bus stop and spends the whole ride with anger bubbling in his stomach. He was right after all-there's no one out there he can trust.
He unlocks the door to his apartment and goes to sit on his bed. He takes deep breaths and tries to forget his anger-but he cannot. He looks up and sees Joonmyun's neat, old desk. He steps there, and runs his fingers over all the books and notes, some still containing Joonmyun's unforgettably neat handwriting.
He opens the dresser and smells the scent of an old, dusty dresser. Some of Joonmyun's clothes and notes he hid when Mrs. Kim asked for them, just to prolong his presence here. Kris was desperate to keep any remnants of Joonmyun in his life. He walks to the peach curtain and opens it slightly, taking a black tin jar behind it.
He opens the black lid to unveil a clear lid beneath.
Gray ashes. Remnants of Joonmyun.
His heart hitches.
Maybe Luhan was just trying to tell him the truth after all.
Whatever was left of Kris suddenly broke into pieces as he realizes that maybe, he is crazy for all this time. He turns to the pillows behind him and takes Joonmyun's, hugging it so tight as he tries so hard not to cry.
He cries eventually, his mind repeating a continuous string of "He's dead" over and over.
Kris looks up when he hears knocking on his bedroom door.
Joonmyun enters the room in his usual shirt-and-shorts with a warm glass of tea, his eyes filled with concern as he approaches Kris.
He sits beside the sobbing Kris with crossed legs, like he used to. Kris bites his lip so hard just so he wouldn't cry harder. Joonmyun strokes his hair dearly, and puts his soft, warm hands over Kris', over the black jar of his own ash. He puts his hand on Kris' cheek and wipes the tears with his thumb.
"Uljima yo," Joonmyun mouthes, no sound coming out of his mouth.
Kris dips his head as his heart breaks and he cries further, squeezing all the tears out of his eyes, wetting his hands. His pants. The ash jar.
Today is August the 14th , their fifth Midbirthday.