drifters: epilogue ( woohyun x sunggyu, pg-13 )
read parts one, two and three here, first! ♥
epilogue.
with a deep sigh, woohyun closes and locks the door, swinging his keys into his pocket. the shop, as it had been for the last six months, was starting to cost more than he earned from it, and if things didn’t start improving, he would have to start thinking about his future once again and there was nothing woohyun wanted less than having to close. he had invested a lot into this shop, in both a literal and figurative sense, and the last 14 years of this life owning and running it would prove to be a waste if he didn’t soon figure out a way to bring his customers back.
he supposes it’s because a large discount book store opened up just around the street, which was much bigger, cheaper and more modern than woohyun’s own shop, and with the shop being sustained on his savings in the last few weeks, he didn’t have the money to improve much but the price of the books inside.
casting a look up the front of the store, he sighs again and shakes his head, knowing soon he must face the inevitable. business since the revolution started has been bad for most, not just his own, and with all the riots happening lately across town, it’s probably a good thing that his beloved store won’t be raided and vandalised by protestors. he’s seen it happen to even the big names in business (the samsung headquarters had been victim to attempted arson and even LG had its own security breach), so smaller businesses like his own stood almost no chance.
he had just enough money to sustain for the next two weeks, and then, if things failed to improve, he would have to shut his doors for the final time and dismiss his loyal employees with a sad smile. seoul, like it had been fifteen years ago, is like a prison sometimes, and sometimes he wonders if things would be the same if he’d set up the shop somewhere less expensive, somewhere less cosmopolitan. the riots and rebellions began in seoul, somewhere around a year and a half ago, as young activists began campaigning for a right to fall in love, resulting in the promise of revolution against the government that told them no.
if woohyun had been younger, more politically adept, maybe he would’ve joined in, but the truth is that he knew something like this was going to happen since he left his old job at the library, could sense that there was some deep-rooted anger in most people he met, and knew that angry adults would grow to produce angry children. he was a silent supporter of the movement, lacking the time and energy to follow on their hunger strikes and street marches, but he liked change, he liked what this would bring to future generations in the hope that they wouldn’t be punished for having feelings.
it was probably too late for him - he’d had his prime and earned his ‘drifter’ title long before the revolts started - but he hoped others would be able to feel like he did, and not have to give it up for the sake of keeping a clean criminal record.
since he quit his old job, moved to a different part of seoul and started up his own shop here, the name of his lover at the time slips his mind, and only a blurred, jagged face exists in his memory. he dedicated the rest of life to his shop, wanting to sell the stories he fell in love with when he was young, wanting to inspire others to read them and love them just as much as he did, so much so that he can barely remember much of the seven months he spent falling in love. but he wonders, often, if his lover ever thinks of him, remembers his name or his face or his voice, and wonders where he now lives, what he does for a living, whether he supports the love revolution too, or whether he has a child takes part in protests. it saddens woohyun that they ended their affair on such short notice, without so much as a goodbye, but it saddens woohyun even more that it didn’t take him long to forget.
with a sad smile, he walks away from the front door of the shop and heads home, keys heavy in his coat pocket.
*
it surprises woohyun to receive a letter from a stranger called kim sunggyu only a few days later in the mail, both because he rarely gets any mail unless it’s for bills these days, and also there’s no particular reason why anyone would be interested in his shop out of the millions in this city. kim sunggyu is a literary critic and reviews book shops across the country, and out of all the book shops in south korea, for some reason, sunggyu is interested in reviewing his.
woohyun almost wants to think it’s a hoax, and is very tempted to ignore the letter until he receives a phone call from said kim sunggyu while he’s at work, attempting to make ends meet, and sunggyu wants to feature woohyun’s book store in a national newspaper, and suddenly woohyun doesn’t hate the idea too much. national attention would (hopefully) provide customers and (perhaps) bring in some much-needed profit so he won’t have to close the shop so soon. the name sounds familiar to him - kim sunggyu - but he can’t recall where he’s heard it before or how long ago, but it’s there, a niggling sense of knowing.
woohyun agrees to meet up with sunggyu on monday morning so they can chat and sunggyu can do what he needs to, so he calls up his best employees and begs them to help to make sure everything is perfect and he can get the best review, and after hours of preparation way past bedtime on sunday night, he finally sleeps, exhausted, but sighing with relief that all he can do is hope that it turns out beyond his expectations.
he’s nervous, sure. this guy is important, he has the power to change everything in terms of the shop, and with society falling into disarray around them, it would be beneficial to get even the slightest amount of revenue from the advertisement. he has to pay a small fee for the article to appear, but he hopes against all hope that it pays off, that he can earn it back with a bright smile and a courteous personality. he desperately hopes that sunggyu is willing to see his perspective and understand how important this is to woohyun, and most importantly, woohyun hopes that this kim sunggyu guy is not just an asshole looking for malicious intent.
he barely sleeps out of nerves, and wakes up even more so.
*
woohyun gets to the shop four hours before his employees are scheduled to arrive so he has time to dust and polish the shelves from top to bottom, and also so he can organise his office in the back, tidying paperwork and recycling all his old notes and making sure that (should sunggyu need to inspect them) the insides of his drawers are neat and arranged in perfect order.
the first of his employees arrives at 10, the rest half an hour later, and sunggyu finally gets to the door at 11, looking sharp in a tailored suit and lugging along a heavy briefcase. there’s something familiar about the shape of his face, the size of his eyes, the way his nose is probably too big for his face, but woohyun can’t put his finger on it. maybe sunggyu has been a customer before and he recognises the face, or they have somehow met before, maybe when he was still working at the old library, or maybe sunggyu was a friend of his late mother and they had met when he attended her funeral.
for the first five seconds, woohyun is distracted before it clicks, cogs ticking inside his head, and he loses balance for a moment, having to hold onto a bookshelf behind him for support. he is surprised he was able to forget sunggyu, with such a hurried history between them, but just by seeing his face again for the first time in fifteen years, woohyun knows it’s him, knows that sunggyu is the man he once knew and loved, and suddenly all the memories of other-side-of-seoul come like a stampede, crushing all other reasonable thought.
his employees are looking at him with concern, trying to help him back to a standing position, and it is when sunggyu makes eye-contact with him again that he gasps and covers his mouth with his hands, because when he got up super early this morning to make the shop spectacular, this was not how he planned this meeting would go, and sunggyu probably doesn’t remember him, and he’s just blown his only chance of survival.
“sajang-nim?” hayoung asks, and woohyun looks up at her. her young eyes plead at him, almost begging. this is, for most of them, their only job, sometimes their only hope of one, and in hayoung’s eyes he sees something desperate. he looks around at the rest of them and finally lifts himself to his feet, and extends a hand to sunggyu, who shakes it. they only touched hands once - their last night, coincidentally - and they are just as callous (yet somehow just as soft) as before.
“welcome, gija-nim!” woohyun speaks eagerly, hoping his nerves will wear off, and sunggyu smiles in hidden amusement.
“nam woohyun?” he nods his head and there’s something in his eyes that woohyun can’t work out - it’s like he has a secret but his eyes can’t reveal it. he dimisses his three employees from the doorway and assigns them jobs to do, before he leads sunggyu into his tiny office, and shuts the door.
“it’s been a long time,” says sunggyu almost immediately, and woohyun turns to look at him. he almost looks as nervous as woohyun feels.
“you remembered?” woohyun smiles awkwardly, not knowing how to respond, and sunggyu only shrugs slightly before he reaches suddenly into his bag.
“do you remember, in january the year after we met, we went to that bookshop in the mall near our apartments, and then we went to eat japanese food? do you remember that we exchanged books that day?”
woohyun blinks and nods, the memory springing into his mind like a jack-in-the-box, and he remembers that day as the day he fell in love with sunggyu in the first place. he gives a small smile and watches as sunggyu pulls a pile of books from within his briefcase, and woohyun knows exactly where this is going.
“well. i was cleaning the other day and i found them again, so i did some research and found out you own the shop,” he carefully places the books on woohyun’s desk and woohyun looks at them, almost wanting to cry.
“you came all the way here, to return my books? that’s it?”
sunggyu’s smile falters and he has the decency to look at least slightly guilty, “no. i came because…i read the ad you placed in the local newspaper, and i wanted to meet you again.”
“why?” woohyun says defensively, frowning a little, and sunggyu holds his hands up in surrender.
“relax. i will review your store, i promise i will do it justice. i wanted to meet you again because…” sunggyu shrugs again now, pouting a little as he looks at the floor, “because it’s been fifteen years, and there’s a revolution going on, and i thought we could…hang out.”
woohyun stifles a laugh. sunggyu has definitely not changed, as this meeting is by far the most awkward he’s ever been in, and it’s almost endearing, his obvious nervousness that mirrors woohyun’s own. it’s nice to see him again, even if he had forgotten his face and name, but he’s actually here, in front of him, like old times, and it feels like a dream with his eyes wide wide open.
“there’s a coffee shop next door,” woohyun says, mimicking sunggyu’s shrug with a shy smile.
fin.
epilogue.
with a deep sigh, woohyun closes and locks the door, swinging his keys into his pocket. the shop, as it had been for the last six months, was starting to cost more than he earned from it, and if things didn’t start improving, he would have to start thinking about his future once again and there was nothing woohyun wanted less than having to close. he had invested a lot into this shop, in both a literal and figurative sense, and the last 14 years of this life owning and running it would prove to be a waste if he didn’t soon figure out a way to bring his customers back.
he supposes it’s because a large discount book store opened up just around the street, which was much bigger, cheaper and more modern than woohyun’s own shop, and with the shop being sustained on his savings in the last few weeks, he didn’t have the money to improve much but the price of the books inside.
casting a look up the front of the store, he sighs again and shakes his head, knowing soon he must face the inevitable. business since the revolution started has been bad for most, not just his own, and with all the riots happening lately across town, it’s probably a good thing that his beloved store won’t be raided and vandalised by protestors. he’s seen it happen to even the big names in business (the samsung headquarters had been victim to attempted arson and even LG had its own security breach), so smaller businesses like his own stood almost no chance.
he had just enough money to sustain for the next two weeks, and then, if things failed to improve, he would have to shut his doors for the final time and dismiss his loyal employees with a sad smile. seoul, like it had been fifteen years ago, is like a prison sometimes, and sometimes he wonders if things would be the same if he’d set up the shop somewhere less expensive, somewhere less cosmopolitan. the riots and rebellions began in seoul, somewhere around a year and a half ago, as young activists began campaigning for a right to fall in love, resulting in the promise of revolution against the government that told them no.
if woohyun had been younger, more politically adept, maybe he would’ve joined in, but the truth is that he knew something like this was going to happen since he left his old job at the library, could sense that there was some deep-rooted anger in most people he met, and knew that angry adults would grow to produce angry children. he was a silent supporter of the movement, lacking the time and energy to follow on their hunger strikes and street marches, but he liked change, he liked what this would bring to future generations in the hope that they wouldn’t be punished for having feelings.
it was probably too late for him - he’d had his prime and earned his ‘drifter’ title long before the revolts started - but he hoped others would be able to feel like he did, and not have to give it up for the sake of keeping a clean criminal record.
since he quit his old job, moved to a different part of seoul and started up his own shop here, the name of his lover at the time slips his mind, and only a blurred, jagged face exists in his memory. he dedicated the rest of life to his shop, wanting to sell the stories he fell in love with when he was young, wanting to inspire others to read them and love them just as much as he did, so much so that he can barely remember much of the seven months he spent falling in love. but he wonders, often, if his lover ever thinks of him, remembers his name or his face or his voice, and wonders where he now lives, what he does for a living, whether he supports the love revolution too, or whether he has a child takes part in protests. it saddens woohyun that they ended their affair on such short notice, without so much as a goodbye, but it saddens woohyun even more that it didn’t take him long to forget.
with a sad smile, he walks away from the front door of the shop and heads home, keys heavy in his coat pocket.
*
it surprises woohyun to receive a letter from a stranger called kim sunggyu only a few days later in the mail, both because he rarely gets any mail unless it’s for bills these days, and also there’s no particular reason why anyone would be interested in his shop out of the millions in this city. kim sunggyu is a literary critic and reviews book shops across the country, and out of all the book shops in south korea, for some reason, sunggyu is interested in reviewing his.
woohyun almost wants to think it’s a hoax, and is very tempted to ignore the letter until he receives a phone call from said kim sunggyu while he’s at work, attempting to make ends meet, and sunggyu wants to feature woohyun’s book store in a national newspaper, and suddenly woohyun doesn’t hate the idea too much. national attention would (hopefully) provide customers and (perhaps) bring in some much-needed profit so he won’t have to close the shop so soon. the name sounds familiar to him - kim sunggyu - but he can’t recall where he’s heard it before or how long ago, but it’s there, a niggling sense of knowing.
woohyun agrees to meet up with sunggyu on monday morning so they can chat and sunggyu can do what he needs to, so he calls up his best employees and begs them to help to make sure everything is perfect and he can get the best review, and after hours of preparation way past bedtime on sunday night, he finally sleeps, exhausted, but sighing with relief that all he can do is hope that it turns out beyond his expectations.
he’s nervous, sure. this guy is important, he has the power to change everything in terms of the shop, and with society falling into disarray around them, it would be beneficial to get even the slightest amount of revenue from the advertisement. he has to pay a small fee for the article to appear, but he hopes against all hope that it pays off, that he can earn it back with a bright smile and a courteous personality. he desperately hopes that sunggyu is willing to see his perspective and understand how important this is to woohyun, and most importantly, woohyun hopes that this kim sunggyu guy is not just an asshole looking for malicious intent.
he barely sleeps out of nerves, and wakes up even more so.
*
woohyun gets to the shop four hours before his employees are scheduled to arrive so he has time to dust and polish the shelves from top to bottom, and also so he can organise his office in the back, tidying paperwork and recycling all his old notes and making sure that (should sunggyu need to inspect them) the insides of his drawers are neat and arranged in perfect order.
the first of his employees arrives at 10, the rest half an hour later, and sunggyu finally gets to the door at 11, looking sharp in a tailored suit and lugging along a heavy briefcase. there’s something familiar about the shape of his face, the size of his eyes, the way his nose is probably too big for his face, but woohyun can’t put his finger on it. maybe sunggyu has been a customer before and he recognises the face, or they have somehow met before, maybe when he was still working at the old library, or maybe sunggyu was a friend of his late mother and they had met when he attended her funeral.
for the first five seconds, woohyun is distracted before it clicks, cogs ticking inside his head, and he loses balance for a moment, having to hold onto a bookshelf behind him for support. he is surprised he was able to forget sunggyu, with such a hurried history between them, but just by seeing his face again for the first time in fifteen years, woohyun knows it’s him, knows that sunggyu is the man he once knew and loved, and suddenly all the memories of other-side-of-seoul come like a stampede, crushing all other reasonable thought.
his employees are looking at him with concern, trying to help him back to a standing position, and it is when sunggyu makes eye-contact with him again that he gasps and covers his mouth with his hands, because when he got up super early this morning to make the shop spectacular, this was not how he planned this meeting would go, and sunggyu probably doesn’t remember him, and he’s just blown his only chance of survival.
“sajang-nim?” hayoung asks, and woohyun looks up at her. her young eyes plead at him, almost begging. this is, for most of them, their only job, sometimes their only hope of one, and in hayoung’s eyes he sees something desperate. he looks around at the rest of them and finally lifts himself to his feet, and extends a hand to sunggyu, who shakes it. they only touched hands once - their last night, coincidentally - and they are just as callous (yet somehow just as soft) as before.
“welcome, gija-nim!” woohyun speaks eagerly, hoping his nerves will wear off, and sunggyu smiles in hidden amusement.
“nam woohyun?” he nods his head and there’s something in his eyes that woohyun can’t work out - it’s like he has a secret but his eyes can’t reveal it. he dimisses his three employees from the doorway and assigns them jobs to do, before he leads sunggyu into his tiny office, and shuts the door.
“it’s been a long time,” says sunggyu almost immediately, and woohyun turns to look at him. he almost looks as nervous as woohyun feels.
“you remembered?” woohyun smiles awkwardly, not knowing how to respond, and sunggyu only shrugs slightly before he reaches suddenly into his bag.
“do you remember, in january the year after we met, we went to that bookshop in the mall near our apartments, and then we went to eat japanese food? do you remember that we exchanged books that day?”
woohyun blinks and nods, the memory springing into his mind like a jack-in-the-box, and he remembers that day as the day he fell in love with sunggyu in the first place. he gives a small smile and watches as sunggyu pulls a pile of books from within his briefcase, and woohyun knows exactly where this is going.
“well. i was cleaning the other day and i found them again, so i did some research and found out you own the shop,” he carefully places the books on woohyun’s desk and woohyun looks at them, almost wanting to cry.
“you came all the way here, to return my books? that’s it?”
sunggyu’s smile falters and he has the decency to look at least slightly guilty, “no. i came because…i read the ad you placed in the local newspaper, and i wanted to meet you again.”
“why?” woohyun says defensively, frowning a little, and sunggyu holds his hands up in surrender.
“relax. i will review your store, i promise i will do it justice. i wanted to meet you again because…” sunggyu shrugs again now, pouting a little as he looks at the floor, “because it’s been fifteen years, and there’s a revolution going on, and i thought we could…hang out.”
woohyun stifles a laugh. sunggyu has definitely not changed, as this meeting is by far the most awkward he’s ever been in, and it’s almost endearing, his obvious nervousness that mirrors woohyun’s own. it’s nice to see him again, even if he had forgotten his face and name, but he’s actually here, in front of him, like old times, and it feels like a dream with his eyes wide wide open.
“there’s a coffee shop next door,” woohyun says, mimicking sunggyu’s shrug with a shy smile.
fin.