Cross-roads: In Transit
Title: Cross-roads: In Transit
Pairing: Donghae/Hyukjae
Rating: G
Genre: General, Slight angst, AU
Summary: Hyukjae runs the race of life like everyone else does: running, running, running without stopping.
One day, he meets someone who makes him pause.
[A/N: The whole verbal spat in the middle about what motivates people is mostly taken from this video by RSAnimate. It’s really good, and I recommend that you watch it too.
It’d be good to understand the background of crossroads to get some of the metaphors used for this fic as well. But even if you don’t know, I still hope you get and like it.
This fic also won the recent hyukhae competition for prompt one. Go to this post for more information, and to look at my pretty banner? ]
~*~
I understand about indecision, but I don't care if I get behind. People living in competition, all I want is to have my peace of mind.
- Boston
~*~
Dark clouds and nature’s cymbals crashing are the signs of a storm. The peal of raindrops beating upon the world an even surer sign. Most would run under shelter, hiding from the elements; either breathing sighs of relief that they had made it in time, or cursing as they huddle, wet, under the bus stop. But, he isn’t most - he’s different. Better. And so he runs on, shoes flicking up droplets as they splash through the soaked floor, discarding them up into pale light and into uncertainty.
It’s irrational. He knows. But he just needs to run - a useless action to ensure that he is ahead of others. He knows that it’d probably be better to stop. To seek shelter from the storm, rather than to risk catching a cold and putting him even further back. But he can’t seem to get that in his head.
Thus, he pushes forward still, hoping to get that few miles ahead. To get home, to work, to be better than others, just for that flighty thing called human praise.
He doesn’t know what happens next. Only that there is a flash of white, pain, the smell of burning, then nothing.
~*~
It is in a busy train station like any other that something strange occurs. It is odd, because train stations are a fitting metaphor for the flow of mundane life. To go into the station, get a ticket, go through the gate, go down the stairs, stand behind the yellow line, wait, wait, wait, stand back as the train arrives, get on the train, get on with life. It’s something you usually don’t remember, like the way you don’t remember sucking your pacifyer when you were kid. It makes sense to have done it, but it’s but a faded feeling of déjà vu in your mind.
Hyukjae doesn’t know why he stopped in the tracks of habit to notice. To notice something as insignificant as someone pausing in his tracks, looking at the train as if he was trying to decide on something important.
He’s the type to be the first on the train just because he can, and it’s so startling when he isn’t that Hyukjae’s mind blanks out. He stands still, unable to move from the foreign feeling of irresolution. Around him, there are grunts of annoyance from the crowd as they push about him to get onto the train.
For a moment, time seems to hang still, as the last person gets on board, and there is only him and that other person standing on the platform. Hyukjae stares at that lone figure, then at that the train which doors seemed to have stayed open for him. Multiple eyes stare at him, and he stares back, wondering why it feels exactly like failure.
He should have shrivelled up then, meekly entering the train like a defeated sheep. He should have, and his foot even inches forward to take that half-step of decision, but his eyes travel to that other figure and he sees uncertainty so similar yet so different from his own.
Curiosity killed the cat, but somehow, Hyukjae doesn’t think of that piece of common-sense consensus at the moment. Only that he needs to find out more about that person standing firm on that platform from indecision. To find out the reason why, why, why.
He hears the doors sliding close even as he turns on his heel and walks away. There is a moment of panic at the sound of wheels grating against the track, but that moment passes, and he is left feeling light, as if he’s walking away with no strings attached and on his own conviction.
It’s safe to say he feels entirely out of it - like a fish out of water, a monkey out of his own jungle. But he pastes on a smile that he hopes is not as wobbly as he feels and walks up to the person who is staring after the train with a thoughtful look on his face. It’s only a few steps away and a hello, yet he can’t seem to open his mouth, standing there like an idiot even as the person of his attention turns around to stare at him instead.
The person’s eyes are brown, Hyukjae discovers that as they smile at him as if he’s a welcome friend, and not some random stranger acting like the weirdo you would nod uneasily at then run away. And he doesn’t know why his heart leaps at the warm voice that says hello, but he gladly takes the hand extended at him, shaking on the completion of a bridge built between strangers on the road.
“Hey…”
~*~
The person’s name is Donghae, Hyukjae finds out when he asks. It comes with a cheery smile that is too bright for the drab interior of the station, and an explanation of its meaning (It means ‘eastern sea’!). When asked for his own name, Hyukjae follows the norm and is hesistant about giving his real name. He ends up giving a fake name thought within 10 seconds, which elicts a squeal from Donghae’s lips.
“Silver!” Donghae grins at Hyukjae’s blink when he realizes its true. He wonders why that name among the many other better ones. But before he can think of the reason, Donghae continues rambling about his choice of name.
“It’s such a pretty name.” Donghae twirls his finger in the air, his brown eyes sparkling. “And so cool. Such a safe name as well - to be silver, to be second. To do well, but without the pressure of being first.”
Hyukjae looks up into a knowing smile, and as he comprehends the meaning of the words that comes from that carefree mouth, he bristles; then is startled to realize that he has. Perhaps what Donghae says strikes too close to a matter in his heart - of how he is always second and never first.
He almost opens his mouth to rebuke, to protest that the name was a curse that always preventing him from getting first. That it held him back no matter how much he ran, ran, ran, he never got faster or closer to beating that person who was always in front.
Then, the moment passes, with the realization that no, his name is not Eunhyuk, and he is not really cursed with being eternally second. He takes a deep breath and wonders why that gentle smile on Donghae’s face now looks like a knowing smirk to him.
~*~
It is five minutes into the conversation and already Hyukjae feels twitchy. Donghae’s conversation is interesting enough, but there is nothing really economical about listening to train spotting, or the mythology of cross-roads and Hyukjae just needs to get on with his life.
At the first crack in Donghae’s monologue, Hyukjae interjects with the question that he’d stopped his routine to ask. “So… why didn’t you get on the train?”
Donghae blinks and tilts his head. “What?”
“You were about to get on the train.” Hyukjae explains. “But you suddenly stopped. I saw.”
Donghae ponders about it for a moment seriously. There wasn’t a word about rudeness, or how Hyukjae might have seemed like a stalker. “Well, I guess I was deciding whether or not to get on the train.”
“Did you leave something behind?” Hyukjae asks, and when Donghae looks at him quizzically, he elaborates. “I mean, for you to go back and get, that you need to decide whether to board the train or not.”
“I always leave things behind, like everyone else. And like everyone else I can never go back and get them.” Donghae replies cryptically before waving his hand. “But that’s not the answer you’re looking for… No, that’s not the reason why I stopped to decide.”
“Then why?” Hyukjae’s eyes crinkle as if trying to deduce a very difficult problem.
“Because I didn’t know if I wanted to get on the train.” Donghae states, as if it’s the simplest concept in the world to comprehend.
“Why wouldn’t you want to get on the train?” Hyukjae’s tone is incredulous, frustrated and bewildered.
Donghae eyes him for a moment, and Hyukjae has the feeling that he’s summing up how much more nonsense he can say before Hyukjae explodes. “Just because you never know. Sometimes you have to think about these things before you regret it - and when you regret, you’ll always regret it.”
Hyukjae rebukes about how something as simple as boarding a train should not need the same thought session one would need with something important like choosing a college or deciding on migrating. “It’s a bit… time wasting don’t you think?” He tries to be nice, to frame his words in a polite way, so that he doesn’t insult someone he just met.
He doesn’t know why he feels like throttling Donghae when the man shakes his head, long brown locks tumbling, and answers like plain paper in a stark white background. “Sometimes, some of these things needs you to take a step back to think about.”
Hyukjae wants to hammer some sense into this irrational man. But he sees the honest look in Donghae’s eyes and realizes that he’s dealing with a dreamer. And when it comes to dreamers, no amount of logical reasoning would work because dreamers would never listen to logic.
Hyukjae would know because he was a dreamer once - the way all people are before real life hits and they grow up and they realize dreams have nothing to do in the real world except with money and hard work and luck and are fleeting like clouds in nature. Donghae would one day realize it too, like Hyukjae did - it was just a matter of when.
But as it is, Hyukjae feels disappointed. He should be at home, working, so that he can climb, climb, climb. He’d like to be a dreamer like Donghae, he thinks, and he’d prefer it the safe way - becoming successful enough so that you could buy your dreams. He’s wasted fifteen minutes of his life, and is set back, and he now needs to work doubly hard to make up for it.
“The train comes in an hour.” Donghae suddenly says, and Hyukjae realizes that he must have been straining to see the train schedule in the distance.
“Oh.” Hyukjae tries not to show his disappointment. But his shoulders droop at the thought of all that lost time. “Okay.”
Donghae smiles as if he understands when Hyukjae is sure that he doesn’t, and he begins to talk something interesting enough about stones. Hyukjae listens to be entertained, placating himself with the thought that at least it’s interesting trivia, all the while counting down the seconds to an hour.
~*~
“Did you know that it isn’t true that money makes the world goes round?”
Hyukjae blinks. They had been talking about personal favourites of colour, food, music, blah, blah, mundance things; and he had nothing to prompt him for that change of topic. For a moment, he thinks Donghae isn’t serious, that he’s joking. Because the way he said that was as if he was commenting on the weather - as if saying something true yet important. As if he had not just contradicted one of the most established facts in most social circles.
Donghae sees the look of confusion on Hyukjae’s face and grins. “It’s true. People have done studies on it.” He shifts so that he faces Hyukjae and Hyukjae wonders if he should be regretting not agreeing straightaway so that he’d be spared the lengthy lecture.
“See. The general consensus is that money is the strongest motivator to get people to work harder. You pay more and people will work harder. The carrot on the stick approach.” Donghae pauses, and after a second, Hyukjae nods, realizing that’s what Donghae is looking for. He crosses his finger behind his back and hopes that he won’t daze off during Donghae’s monologue and end up offending an otherwise interesting person.
“That is true for jobs that require only mechanical process. Like running, or lifting heavy things.” Donghae continues then, hands flying in the air as he explains enthusiastically. “But here’s the thing: once the job requires just minimal cognitive skill, the reverse happens.”
Hyukjae blinks, tilting his head as Donghae continues. “They did a test at MIT, giving them puzzles to do and stuff. And then they found out that the larger the cash reward, the worst the performance. Weird huh? It confused the hell out of the economists who were doing the experiment.”
And if it confused economists, then what more Hyukjae? He leans forward, entirely raptured now. “So they decided to do the test again somewhere else. Maybe those incentives weren’t enough for MIT graduates - after all what’s fifty plus dollars to them?” Donghae leaned in yet closer to Hyukjae, eyes dancing bright and animated. “So they went to rural India and did the exact same test - but giving a higher reward since they could because of the exchange rate and all, but anyway. Guess what? They found the exact same thing - those who were offered extremely high monetary reward did worse than those offered only a small monetary reward.”
“The truth is.” Donghae finally explains to a puzzled Hyukjae, “What motivates us most isn’t money - it’s autonomy, mastery and purpose.”
“Autonomy is when you get to work on your own - people don’t tell you to do anything. What usually happens is that people tell us to do stuff - like most management structures nowadays. It works for jobs that require only mechanical skill, but the more creative you need to be on the job, the more you need people to be self-directed. It’s like the way you don’t feel like doing something when your mom tells you too, or a teacher tells you to, and you end up doing something else. It’s the exact same thing - you’d prefer doing that something else because youwant to do it. On your own decision.”
“The second thing that motivates people is mastery. It’s wanting to get good at something. It’s why people practice music at home on a weekend when there’s no rational reason - after all, they don’t get paid. But they do it because it’s fun. Because it’s satisfying because you get better at it. That’s why you have people like fanfiction writers, fanartists, cosplayers, fan-animators; posting things on the internet for you to read. For free. These are highly skilled people who have other things to do, They have to study. They have jobs. And more often then not, the stuff they do for free is better than the stuff that they’re paid to do.”
Hyukjae listens rapt, his brain wheeling at the revelation. He stares at the person he’d dismissed as a childish dreamer and wonders how he’d been so wrong. And now, the smile on Donghae’s face seems knowing, as if he’s known Hyukjae’s train of thought all along. “It’s insane if you think about it right? Why are these people posting things up for free? I mean sure - create something good in your spare time. So why not sell it? That way it’d make more sense right? Well, that’s the third thing that motivates us - purpose.”
“Truth is, these people are more than willing to give their blood and sweat for free because they feel as if they’re contributing to the world. That everything they give something to community, it helps. There is a purpose behind their actions rather than just monetary gain. It’s a little hard to grasp - like the concept of nirvana. But think of it this way - it’s like the difference when you get up to work because you have to or you’ll lose your job and when you jump out of bed because you’re excited for work because there’s people depending on you, working with you, all of you out there to make a difference.”
“No one really knows why these things drive us though.” Donghae speaks again after a few moments, at it is only then that Hyukjae realizes that he’s been deep in thought, mind turning Donghae’s words over in his head and finding them true. “But one of the ideas is that when we offer monetary value, we devalue people - make them seem like animals running after a treat when we dangle in front of their faces. People want to be treated like people after all, not animals.”
“So, if we give people the right to make a decision, give them the room to master the things they do and give them a purpose for doing it, there’s a higher chance that the world would be a better place!” Donghae ends his lecture with a deep breath and a large grin. And Hyukjae realizes that fifteen minutes have already passed - fifteen minutes which he might have once thought of as a waste. Fifteen minutes which he would have used to aimlessly run forward to keep ahead.
Hyukjae keeps quiet for a long while, and he only looks up when he feels a gentle hand on his arm and sees the soft look on Donghae’s face.
“So. Still think that taking a step back to think is wasteful?” Donghae asks, and Hyukjae wonders if Donghae isn’t only a dreamer, but a mind-reader as well. He looks down, his face just that little red, turning even redder at the way Donghae laughs and ruffles his hair.
“People aren’t animals. So you aren’t either.” Donghae states with a wry shake of his head. “So why do you persist in joining in the rat race when you aren’t a rat?”
And for once, Hyukjae stops and thinks about it and realizes that this erratic, childish dreamer might just be right.
~*~
They talk about everything there is to talk about. Or rather Hyukjae starts on a topic and trails off as Donghae picks it up and completes it with trivia Hyukjae had never even knew. He learns about stars and shoguns and art and music and media and gems and gold and global warming and devils and angels and past and present and future. He learns about the cross-roads and their mythology. He learns more than he could ever dream of within that tiny frame of less than an hour that seems to have dwindled into smaller frames of time with every passing minute. And he is entirely startled when the announcement for the arriving train echoes through the enclosed walls.
Hyukjae looks around in confusion as he realizes that they aren’t alone in the station anymore. The crowds have come in, and the platform is filled with people, all once like him, urgent to get on the train to get on to the next station, and the next and the next and the next until they reach the end of the line.
It feels odd, like he’s looking at a fishbowl and analysizing a specimen. He feels superior in a way, although he knows he shouldn’t. And as the train rolls in, he wonders why he doesn’t feel the usual dislocation as people swarm to the doors, eager to get in, anxious not to get left behind.
“Are you boarding the train, Lee Hyukjae?” Hyukjae takes a while to realize that the question is directed at him. And he stares at Donghae’s doe-brown eyes for a while before turning his head to see the mechanical creature of metal and electricity rush in with a screech and protesting cry at having to stop.
Today is a day of firsts. So for the first time again, Hyukjae doesn’t immediately rush to get on the train. He doesn’t meld into the crowd and into peer pressure, and doesn’t become with one of the multitudes, huddled with some work to do or another excuse to not stand out and take on the burden of being different.
He supposes that he’s should be struck by some kind of revelation about world peace or individuality or existentialism or the cure for cancer. But instead, what he realizes is how none of the passengers on the train gets off, and that there is a strange quality of the people getting on the train - a see-through effect, as if they weren’t really there.
His heart thuds, heavy in his ears and he realizes a severed limb among the crowd, then a hole in the stomach. Others seem normal, but have the ashen sheen of illness. Those that do not are old, and old the crowd mostly is too. Then he realizes, belatedly, how Donghae had called him by his real name, and it had never passed between his lips to Donghae’s ears and mind.
There is white noise that sounds like roaring in his ears, and Donghae’s voice seems like it’s coming from a far off place even though he’s supposed to be right beside him. “I think I taught you too well. I’d have like to talk with you more.” He says with a smile like the sad waving of a willows, like this is goodbye.
“Will I meet you again?” Hyukjae asks, his arm reaching out and finding that he is grasping at straws, his hand trying to curl around that warm hand but slipping with each passing second. And he knows he has to leave, though he doesn’t - it seems that sometimes you just couldn’t have that choice.
Donghae shrugs something that isn’t yes or no, but is a promise of someday, maybe, it’d depend on the circumstances. But he says, “I dwell at the cross-roads. And maybe we’ll meet when you’ve left something behind.”
Hyukjae can only take it as a clue, and there is the feeling of being pulled away, like a vacuum appearing before darkness closes him, then nothing.
The train pulls out of the station. And it leaves full, with the exception of one who had to go back and one who has to stay.
~*~
Hyukjae wakes to a room of all white, and he knows that this cannot be the afterlife, because it seems that he had just returned from something akin to it. Or perhaps its waiting room, or its counseling room, or its place for in transit cases - he doesn’t really know. But he does know that he’s in the hospital, and a nurse comes in seconds later to gasp at his apparent miraculous recovery. Because not many people survive intact from being struck by lightning while running in the rain.
When he’s finally left alone by family, nurses, doctors, friends and who knows who else who seem to treat him like a freak show or a delicate thing that must be coddle, he thinks about his dream and the person that is occupying the forefront of his mind.
He calls it a dream because he convinces himself that doesn’t know if its real, and there are dreamlike qualities to his encounter. But if he were being honest, it is because dreams were flighty things, and if he found that it wasn’t real, he’d be less hurt and more willing to heal.
He’s tempted to treat it just like a dream and forget about it. The soft doe-eyes and cheeky smile would become faded memories, the details slowly falling from the face until nothing but a whisper of brown and dreaming would be left. But somehow, he thinks of all he’s learnt and takes a metaphorical step back to just consider and contemplate. Just so that he doesn’t regret his decision, and because it’s one of those rare times that he can.
He decides he still wants to be a dreamer. That even if it all was a dream, he needs to realize that he is a person, not a rat, not a horse, not a mindless robot to be offered compensation to run like clockwork. And he knows Donghae would be proud if all this was real, and the next time they met face to face, they could discuss the complexity of the cosmos and maybe the seasons of time and the unknown because Hyukjae had been thinking about it.
It doesn’t make sense, but hours later, Hyukjae is smiling and longing, because he’s decided that the first step to being a dreamer was that he needed to treat dream that he had like it was reality and not a dream.
~*~
The world tells Hyukjae to give it up, to be sensible and to study, to get good grades, go to university, go get a job, get a family, raise good children, enjoy a few good years of retirement then die.
Hyukjae does study. He studies the time it takes for a ant to crawl from one end to the room, and the movement of the stars, and the sociology behind cutting one’s nails. He does get good grades, because he thinks and it just so happens that that is what they want in the world now. He does go to university, but only because he thought he’d find like-minded people who he could talk with and quits after the first year because he realizes that most people only wanted success through a degree. He keeps in touch with those few professors and he picks up yet another new job - this time as a cleaner in the park so that he can offer a smile to those who sleep on the park benches.
He picks up all sorts of trivia. Because he realizes that there is a connection between those things lost in between and the cross-roads that Donghae professes to dwell in. He knows that Mori Ranmaru was Oda Nobunaga’s faithful attendant and possibly one who also warmed his bed. He knows the speed of light is 299 792 458 metres per second and contemplates that that is also the speed of darkness, because darkness always existed alongside with light. And belatedly, he also realizes that it is this trivia that gets him human praise easily - so much easier than when he worked with the world and it ideas of success. But he doesn’t really care for the awe of mankind, only that the more he learns the more he finds out that he doesn’t really know anything actually.
He sometimes knows that he’s doing all this not for a higher cause to better himself, but only because he wants to meet him again someday. To see that soft, knowing look - that smile that can mean anything. It’s why he always leaves something at any cross-road he encounters - a sweet, a toy, a piece of paper, a stone, anything which he guesses Donghae will know is his. And he always walks away slowly, hoping to hear someone call his name, or tap on his shoulder, and then he could turn around and smile, and pretend that he knew that Donghae would show up then and preferably there would be a happily ever after then.
But it never happens. And Hyukjae would shrug and pretend that its alright, and then it does become alright. He reasons that it isn’t time yet, and the stars aren’t aligned, and when it does the day he has been awaiting would come again.
~*~
One day, it just isn’t alright. Hyukjae doesn’t know why, but he’s desolate and inconsolable even to himself as he turns around and stares at the small blue stone he put down at a small junction between Avenue One and Highland Grove. He had seen it in the store and had bought it because he thought it was something Donghae would appreciate. And suddenly, he wonders why he’s being so silly, spending money on something he isn’t sure of, centering his life entirely around a dream.
He walks back, footsteps angry as he bends down to pick the stone back up again. But just as his fingers brush against the cold blue, another hand reached out and plucks in from the ground. “Don’t take back what you’ve given!” The voice is warm and has laughter in it, and Hyukjae’s eyes widen in recognition and tears of longing fulfilled.
“What took you so long?!” Is the first time that comes out of his mouth as he squashes down the urge to punch Donghae and hug him at the same time.
The tip of Donghae’s lips curl and Hyukjae thinks that this time, that smile really is a smirk as Donghae throws the question back at him. “What took you so long? I was expecting you to get frustrated within two weeks. Was my talk really that impactful that it’s the reason why you took 5 years to come to a cross-roads in your life again?”
Hyukjae blinks and realizes how silly he’s been. He’s been behaving like a scholar for the past five years and he hadn’t even thought of how cross-roads could be both physical and metaphorical. “Oh.”
Donghae chuckles and shakes his head like it’s okay, and five years is nothing, and perhaps its not to him. But for Hyukjae, the tears spill over as he is reminded of the absence and the uncertainty, and he forgets about that all when warm arms circle around him and he’s crying so hard he can’t breathe, and maybe he’d die here and be with Donghae forever.
“I’ll never be sure of anything in my life again.” Hyukjae swears between sobs and choking gasp as Donghae laughs with the sound of all that is in between.
“You?” Donghae says with much disbelief, and Hyukjae wrinkles his nose at him. He doesn’t need to share what is in his mind, because he knows that Donghae knows what he’s thinking, although he doesn’t know if it’s because Donghae knows him too well, or because Hyukjae’s face is like an open book. But even if he’s not sure of that and professes always to never be sure, he is sure of one thing - and that is how much he loves the most unknown thing in his life.
And because Donghae is Donghae, he smiles a smile that is happy and sad, and resigned and doubtful and joy and fear and a million other paradoxes at the same time, and Hyukjae likes to think that that smile now says one simple thing that would complete his universal truth and make the world like sunshine and rainbows and puppy dogs.
~*~
But Donghae doesn’t say it, because years later, when Hyukjae’s hair grows white and he’s so frail that he cannot move anymore without complaining about this bone or that muscle, the autumn ends and the last leaf falls to the ground, signalling transition and the end of the period that is in between.
Because now, as Hyukjae steps away from his frail body and he’s strong again, there’s no need for any doubt because the world cannot affect him that same way anymore and he stands on the same ground as Donghae is on.
Because, actually, Hyukjae knew it all along despite his promise not too. Because some things were just truths that could not be doubted.
But now, Donghae says it anyway, because he decides to say it, and because he can because it’s his choice. And he says it to Hyukjae’s sweet smile, and the way when they walk, it’s the cosmos singing in harmony; with a kiss and a look in his eyes that says more than the words actually do.
“Love you.”
~*~
Pairing: Donghae/Hyukjae
Rating: G
Genre: General, Slight angst, AU
Summary: Hyukjae runs the race of life like everyone else does: running, running, running without stopping.
One day, he meets someone who makes him pause.
[A/N: The whole verbal spat in the middle about what motivates people is mostly taken from this video by RSAnimate. It’s really good, and I recommend that you watch it too.
It’d be good to understand the background of crossroads to get some of the metaphors used for this fic as well. But even if you don’t know, I still hope you get and like it.
This fic also won the recent hyukhae competition for prompt one. Go to this post for more information, and to look at my pretty banner? ]
~*~
I understand about indecision, but I don't care if I get behind. People living in competition, all I want is to have my peace of mind.
- Boston
~*~
Dark clouds and nature’s cymbals crashing are the signs of a storm. The peal of raindrops beating upon the world an even surer sign. Most would run under shelter, hiding from the elements; either breathing sighs of relief that they had made it in time, or cursing as they huddle, wet, under the bus stop. But, he isn’t most - he’s different. Better. And so he runs on, shoes flicking up droplets as they splash through the soaked floor, discarding them up into pale light and into uncertainty.
It’s irrational. He knows. But he just needs to run - a useless action to ensure that he is ahead of others. He knows that it’d probably be better to stop. To seek shelter from the storm, rather than to risk catching a cold and putting him even further back. But he can’t seem to get that in his head.
Thus, he pushes forward still, hoping to get that few miles ahead. To get home, to work, to be better than others, just for that flighty thing called human praise.
He doesn’t know what happens next. Only that there is a flash of white, pain, the smell of burning, then nothing.
~*~
It is in a busy train station like any other that something strange occurs. It is odd, because train stations are a fitting metaphor for the flow of mundane life. To go into the station, get a ticket, go through the gate, go down the stairs, stand behind the yellow line, wait, wait, wait, stand back as the train arrives, get on the train, get on with life. It’s something you usually don’t remember, like the way you don’t remember sucking your pacifyer when you were kid. It makes sense to have done it, but it’s but a faded feeling of déjà vu in your mind.
Hyukjae doesn’t know why he stopped in the tracks of habit to notice. To notice something as insignificant as someone pausing in his tracks, looking at the train as if he was trying to decide on something important.
He’s the type to be the first on the train just because he can, and it’s so startling when he isn’t that Hyukjae’s mind blanks out. He stands still, unable to move from the foreign feeling of irresolution. Around him, there are grunts of annoyance from the crowd as they push about him to get onto the train.
For a moment, time seems to hang still, as the last person gets on board, and there is only him and that other person standing on the platform. Hyukjae stares at that lone figure, then at that the train which doors seemed to have stayed open for him. Multiple eyes stare at him, and he stares back, wondering why it feels exactly like failure.
He should have shrivelled up then, meekly entering the train like a defeated sheep. He should have, and his foot even inches forward to take that half-step of decision, but his eyes travel to that other figure and he sees uncertainty so similar yet so different from his own.
Curiosity killed the cat, but somehow, Hyukjae doesn’t think of that piece of common-sense consensus at the moment. Only that he needs to find out more about that person standing firm on that platform from indecision. To find out the reason why, why, why.
He hears the doors sliding close even as he turns on his heel and walks away. There is a moment of panic at the sound of wheels grating against the track, but that moment passes, and he is left feeling light, as if he’s walking away with no strings attached and on his own conviction.
It’s safe to say he feels entirely out of it - like a fish out of water, a monkey out of his own jungle. But he pastes on a smile that he hopes is not as wobbly as he feels and walks up to the person who is staring after the train with a thoughtful look on his face. It’s only a few steps away and a hello, yet he can’t seem to open his mouth, standing there like an idiot even as the person of his attention turns around to stare at him instead.
The person’s eyes are brown, Hyukjae discovers that as they smile at him as if he’s a welcome friend, and not some random stranger acting like the weirdo you would nod uneasily at then run away. And he doesn’t know why his heart leaps at the warm voice that says hello, but he gladly takes the hand extended at him, shaking on the completion of a bridge built between strangers on the road.
“Hey…”
~*~
The person’s name is Donghae, Hyukjae finds out when he asks. It comes with a cheery smile that is too bright for the drab interior of the station, and an explanation of its meaning (It means ‘eastern sea’!). When asked for his own name, Hyukjae follows the norm and is hesistant about giving his real name. He ends up giving a fake name thought within 10 seconds, which elicts a squeal from Donghae’s lips.
“Silver!” Donghae grins at Hyukjae’s blink when he realizes its true. He wonders why that name among the many other better ones. But before he can think of the reason, Donghae continues rambling about his choice of name.
“It’s such a pretty name.” Donghae twirls his finger in the air, his brown eyes sparkling. “And so cool. Such a safe name as well - to be silver, to be second. To do well, but without the pressure of being first.”
Hyukjae looks up into a knowing smile, and as he comprehends the meaning of the words that comes from that carefree mouth, he bristles; then is startled to realize that he has. Perhaps what Donghae says strikes too close to a matter in his heart - of how he is always second and never first.
He almost opens his mouth to rebuke, to protest that the name was a curse that always preventing him from getting first. That it held him back no matter how much he ran, ran, ran, he never got faster or closer to beating that person who was always in front.
Then, the moment passes, with the realization that no, his name is not Eunhyuk, and he is not really cursed with being eternally second. He takes a deep breath and wonders why that gentle smile on Donghae’s face now looks like a knowing smirk to him.
~*~
It is five minutes into the conversation and already Hyukjae feels twitchy. Donghae’s conversation is interesting enough, but there is nothing really economical about listening to train spotting, or the mythology of cross-roads and Hyukjae just needs to get on with his life.
At the first crack in Donghae’s monologue, Hyukjae interjects with the question that he’d stopped his routine to ask. “So… why didn’t you get on the train?”
Donghae blinks and tilts his head. “What?”
“You were about to get on the train.” Hyukjae explains. “But you suddenly stopped. I saw.”
Donghae ponders about it for a moment seriously. There wasn’t a word about rudeness, or how Hyukjae might have seemed like a stalker. “Well, I guess I was deciding whether or not to get on the train.”
“Did you leave something behind?” Hyukjae asks, and when Donghae looks at him quizzically, he elaborates. “I mean, for you to go back and get, that you need to decide whether to board the train or not.”
“I always leave things behind, like everyone else. And like everyone else I can never go back and get them.” Donghae replies cryptically before waving his hand. “But that’s not the answer you’re looking for… No, that’s not the reason why I stopped to decide.”
“Then why?” Hyukjae’s eyes crinkle as if trying to deduce a very difficult problem.
“Because I didn’t know if I wanted to get on the train.” Donghae states, as if it’s the simplest concept in the world to comprehend.
“Why wouldn’t you want to get on the train?” Hyukjae’s tone is incredulous, frustrated and bewildered.
Donghae eyes him for a moment, and Hyukjae has the feeling that he’s summing up how much more nonsense he can say before Hyukjae explodes. “Just because you never know. Sometimes you have to think about these things before you regret it - and when you regret, you’ll always regret it.”
Hyukjae rebukes about how something as simple as boarding a train should not need the same thought session one would need with something important like choosing a college or deciding on migrating. “It’s a bit… time wasting don’t you think?” He tries to be nice, to frame his words in a polite way, so that he doesn’t insult someone he just met.
He doesn’t know why he feels like throttling Donghae when the man shakes his head, long brown locks tumbling, and answers like plain paper in a stark white background. “Sometimes, some of these things needs you to take a step back to think about.”
Hyukjae wants to hammer some sense into this irrational man. But he sees the honest look in Donghae’s eyes and realizes that he’s dealing with a dreamer. And when it comes to dreamers, no amount of logical reasoning would work because dreamers would never listen to logic.
Hyukjae would know because he was a dreamer once - the way all people are before real life hits and they grow up and they realize dreams have nothing to do in the real world except with money and hard work and luck and are fleeting like clouds in nature. Donghae would one day realize it too, like Hyukjae did - it was just a matter of when.
But as it is, Hyukjae feels disappointed. He should be at home, working, so that he can climb, climb, climb. He’d like to be a dreamer like Donghae, he thinks, and he’d prefer it the safe way - becoming successful enough so that you could buy your dreams. He’s wasted fifteen minutes of his life, and is set back, and he now needs to work doubly hard to make up for it.
“The train comes in an hour.” Donghae suddenly says, and Hyukjae realizes that he must have been straining to see the train schedule in the distance.
“Oh.” Hyukjae tries not to show his disappointment. But his shoulders droop at the thought of all that lost time. “Okay.”
Donghae smiles as if he understands when Hyukjae is sure that he doesn’t, and he begins to talk something interesting enough about stones. Hyukjae listens to be entertained, placating himself with the thought that at least it’s interesting trivia, all the while counting down the seconds to an hour.
~*~
“Did you know that it isn’t true that money makes the world goes round?”
Hyukjae blinks. They had been talking about personal favourites of colour, food, music, blah, blah, mundance things; and he had nothing to prompt him for that change of topic. For a moment, he thinks Donghae isn’t serious, that he’s joking. Because the way he said that was as if he was commenting on the weather - as if saying something true yet important. As if he had not just contradicted one of the most established facts in most social circles.
Donghae sees the look of confusion on Hyukjae’s face and grins. “It’s true. People have done studies on it.” He shifts so that he faces Hyukjae and Hyukjae wonders if he should be regretting not agreeing straightaway so that he’d be spared the lengthy lecture.
“See. The general consensus is that money is the strongest motivator to get people to work harder. You pay more and people will work harder. The carrot on the stick approach.” Donghae pauses, and after a second, Hyukjae nods, realizing that’s what Donghae is looking for. He crosses his finger behind his back and hopes that he won’t daze off during Donghae’s monologue and end up offending an otherwise interesting person.
“That is true for jobs that require only mechanical process. Like running, or lifting heavy things.” Donghae continues then, hands flying in the air as he explains enthusiastically. “But here’s the thing: once the job requires just minimal cognitive skill, the reverse happens.”
Hyukjae blinks, tilting his head as Donghae continues. “They did a test at MIT, giving them puzzles to do and stuff. And then they found out that the larger the cash reward, the worst the performance. Weird huh? It confused the hell out of the economists who were doing the experiment.”
And if it confused economists, then what more Hyukjae? He leans forward, entirely raptured now. “So they decided to do the test again somewhere else. Maybe those incentives weren’t enough for MIT graduates - after all what’s fifty plus dollars to them?” Donghae leaned in yet closer to Hyukjae, eyes dancing bright and animated. “So they went to rural India and did the exact same test - but giving a higher reward since they could because of the exchange rate and all, but anyway. Guess what? They found the exact same thing - those who were offered extremely high monetary reward did worse than those offered only a small monetary reward.”
“The truth is.” Donghae finally explains to a puzzled Hyukjae, “What motivates us most isn’t money - it’s autonomy, mastery and purpose.”
“Autonomy is when you get to work on your own - people don’t tell you to do anything. What usually happens is that people tell us to do stuff - like most management structures nowadays. It works for jobs that require only mechanical skill, but the more creative you need to be on the job, the more you need people to be self-directed. It’s like the way you don’t feel like doing something when your mom tells you too, or a teacher tells you to, and you end up doing something else. It’s the exact same thing - you’d prefer doing that something else because youwant to do it. On your own decision.”
“The second thing that motivates people is mastery. It’s wanting to get good at something. It’s why people practice music at home on a weekend when there’s no rational reason - after all, they don’t get paid. But they do it because it’s fun. Because it’s satisfying because you get better at it. That’s why you have people like fanfiction writers, fanartists, cosplayers, fan-animators; posting things on the internet for you to read. For free. These are highly skilled people who have other things to do, They have to study. They have jobs. And more often then not, the stuff they do for free is better than the stuff that they’re paid to do.”
Hyukjae listens rapt, his brain wheeling at the revelation. He stares at the person he’d dismissed as a childish dreamer and wonders how he’d been so wrong. And now, the smile on Donghae’s face seems knowing, as if he’s known Hyukjae’s train of thought all along. “It’s insane if you think about it right? Why are these people posting things up for free? I mean sure - create something good in your spare time. So why not sell it? That way it’d make more sense right? Well, that’s the third thing that motivates us - purpose.”
“Truth is, these people are more than willing to give their blood and sweat for free because they feel as if they’re contributing to the world. That everything they give something to community, it helps. There is a purpose behind their actions rather than just monetary gain. It’s a little hard to grasp - like the concept of nirvana. But think of it this way - it’s like the difference when you get up to work because you have to or you’ll lose your job and when you jump out of bed because you’re excited for work because there’s people depending on you, working with you, all of you out there to make a difference.”
“No one really knows why these things drive us though.” Donghae speaks again after a few moments, at it is only then that Hyukjae realizes that he’s been deep in thought, mind turning Donghae’s words over in his head and finding them true. “But one of the ideas is that when we offer monetary value, we devalue people - make them seem like animals running after a treat when we dangle in front of their faces. People want to be treated like people after all, not animals.”
“So, if we give people the right to make a decision, give them the room to master the things they do and give them a purpose for doing it, there’s a higher chance that the world would be a better place!” Donghae ends his lecture with a deep breath and a large grin. And Hyukjae realizes that fifteen minutes have already passed - fifteen minutes which he might have once thought of as a waste. Fifteen minutes which he would have used to aimlessly run forward to keep ahead.
Hyukjae keeps quiet for a long while, and he only looks up when he feels a gentle hand on his arm and sees the soft look on Donghae’s face.
“So. Still think that taking a step back to think is wasteful?” Donghae asks, and Hyukjae wonders if Donghae isn’t only a dreamer, but a mind-reader as well. He looks down, his face just that little red, turning even redder at the way Donghae laughs and ruffles his hair.
“People aren’t animals. So you aren’t either.” Donghae states with a wry shake of his head. “So why do you persist in joining in the rat race when you aren’t a rat?”
And for once, Hyukjae stops and thinks about it and realizes that this erratic, childish dreamer might just be right.
~*~
They talk about everything there is to talk about. Or rather Hyukjae starts on a topic and trails off as Donghae picks it up and completes it with trivia Hyukjae had never even knew. He learns about stars and shoguns and art and music and media and gems and gold and global warming and devils and angels and past and present and future. He learns about the cross-roads and their mythology. He learns more than he could ever dream of within that tiny frame of less than an hour that seems to have dwindled into smaller frames of time with every passing minute. And he is entirely startled when the announcement for the arriving train echoes through the enclosed walls.
Hyukjae looks around in confusion as he realizes that they aren’t alone in the station anymore. The crowds have come in, and the platform is filled with people, all once like him, urgent to get on the train to get on to the next station, and the next and the next and the next until they reach the end of the line.
It feels odd, like he’s looking at a fishbowl and analysizing a specimen. He feels superior in a way, although he knows he shouldn’t. And as the train rolls in, he wonders why he doesn’t feel the usual dislocation as people swarm to the doors, eager to get in, anxious not to get left behind.
“Are you boarding the train, Lee Hyukjae?” Hyukjae takes a while to realize that the question is directed at him. And he stares at Donghae’s doe-brown eyes for a while before turning his head to see the mechanical creature of metal and electricity rush in with a screech and protesting cry at having to stop.
Today is a day of firsts. So for the first time again, Hyukjae doesn’t immediately rush to get on the train. He doesn’t meld into the crowd and into peer pressure, and doesn’t become with one of the multitudes, huddled with some work to do or another excuse to not stand out and take on the burden of being different.
He supposes that he’s should be struck by some kind of revelation about world peace or individuality or existentialism or the cure for cancer. But instead, what he realizes is how none of the passengers on the train gets off, and that there is a strange quality of the people getting on the train - a see-through effect, as if they weren’t really there.
His heart thuds, heavy in his ears and he realizes a severed limb among the crowd, then a hole in the stomach. Others seem normal, but have the ashen sheen of illness. Those that do not are old, and old the crowd mostly is too. Then he realizes, belatedly, how Donghae had called him by his real name, and it had never passed between his lips to Donghae’s ears and mind.
There is white noise that sounds like roaring in his ears, and Donghae’s voice seems like it’s coming from a far off place even though he’s supposed to be right beside him. “I think I taught you too well. I’d have like to talk with you more.” He says with a smile like the sad waving of a willows, like this is goodbye.
“Will I meet you again?” Hyukjae asks, his arm reaching out and finding that he is grasping at straws, his hand trying to curl around that warm hand but slipping with each passing second. And he knows he has to leave, though he doesn’t - it seems that sometimes you just couldn’t have that choice.
Donghae shrugs something that isn’t yes or no, but is a promise of someday, maybe, it’d depend on the circumstances. But he says, “I dwell at the cross-roads. And maybe we’ll meet when you’ve left something behind.”
Hyukjae can only take it as a clue, and there is the feeling of being pulled away, like a vacuum appearing before darkness closes him, then nothing.
The train pulls out of the station. And it leaves full, with the exception of one who had to go back and one who has to stay.
~*~
Hyukjae wakes to a room of all white, and he knows that this cannot be the afterlife, because it seems that he had just returned from something akin to it. Or perhaps its waiting room, or its counseling room, or its place for in transit cases - he doesn’t really know. But he does know that he’s in the hospital, and a nurse comes in seconds later to gasp at his apparent miraculous recovery. Because not many people survive intact from being struck by lightning while running in the rain.
When he’s finally left alone by family, nurses, doctors, friends and who knows who else who seem to treat him like a freak show or a delicate thing that must be coddle, he thinks about his dream and the person that is occupying the forefront of his mind.
He calls it a dream because he convinces himself that doesn’t know if its real, and there are dreamlike qualities to his encounter. But if he were being honest, it is because dreams were flighty things, and if he found that it wasn’t real, he’d be less hurt and more willing to heal.
He’s tempted to treat it just like a dream and forget about it. The soft doe-eyes and cheeky smile would become faded memories, the details slowly falling from the face until nothing but a whisper of brown and dreaming would be left. But somehow, he thinks of all he’s learnt and takes a metaphorical step back to just consider and contemplate. Just so that he doesn’t regret his decision, and because it’s one of those rare times that he can.
He decides he still wants to be a dreamer. That even if it all was a dream, he needs to realize that he is a person, not a rat, not a horse, not a mindless robot to be offered compensation to run like clockwork. And he knows Donghae would be proud if all this was real, and the next time they met face to face, they could discuss the complexity of the cosmos and maybe the seasons of time and the unknown because Hyukjae had been thinking about it.
It doesn’t make sense, but hours later, Hyukjae is smiling and longing, because he’s decided that the first step to being a dreamer was that he needed to treat dream that he had like it was reality and not a dream.
~*~
The world tells Hyukjae to give it up, to be sensible and to study, to get good grades, go to university, go get a job, get a family, raise good children, enjoy a few good years of retirement then die.
Hyukjae does study. He studies the time it takes for a ant to crawl from one end to the room, and the movement of the stars, and the sociology behind cutting one’s nails. He does get good grades, because he thinks and it just so happens that that is what they want in the world now. He does go to university, but only because he thought he’d find like-minded people who he could talk with and quits after the first year because he realizes that most people only wanted success through a degree. He keeps in touch with those few professors and he picks up yet another new job - this time as a cleaner in the park so that he can offer a smile to those who sleep on the park benches.
He picks up all sorts of trivia. Because he realizes that there is a connection between those things lost in between and the cross-roads that Donghae professes to dwell in. He knows that Mori Ranmaru was Oda Nobunaga’s faithful attendant and possibly one who also warmed his bed. He knows the speed of light is 299 792 458 metres per second and contemplates that that is also the speed of darkness, because darkness always existed alongside with light. And belatedly, he also realizes that it is this trivia that gets him human praise easily - so much easier than when he worked with the world and it ideas of success. But he doesn’t really care for the awe of mankind, only that the more he learns the more he finds out that he doesn’t really know anything actually.
He sometimes knows that he’s doing all this not for a higher cause to better himself, but only because he wants to meet him again someday. To see that soft, knowing look - that smile that can mean anything. It’s why he always leaves something at any cross-road he encounters - a sweet, a toy, a piece of paper, a stone, anything which he guesses Donghae will know is his. And he always walks away slowly, hoping to hear someone call his name, or tap on his shoulder, and then he could turn around and smile, and pretend that he knew that Donghae would show up then and preferably there would be a happily ever after then.
But it never happens. And Hyukjae would shrug and pretend that its alright, and then it does become alright. He reasons that it isn’t time yet, and the stars aren’t aligned, and when it does the day he has been awaiting would come again.
~*~
One day, it just isn’t alright. Hyukjae doesn’t know why, but he’s desolate and inconsolable even to himself as he turns around and stares at the small blue stone he put down at a small junction between Avenue One and Highland Grove. He had seen it in the store and had bought it because he thought it was something Donghae would appreciate. And suddenly, he wonders why he’s being so silly, spending money on something he isn’t sure of, centering his life entirely around a dream.
He walks back, footsteps angry as he bends down to pick the stone back up again. But just as his fingers brush against the cold blue, another hand reached out and plucks in from the ground. “Don’t take back what you’ve given!” The voice is warm and has laughter in it, and Hyukjae’s eyes widen in recognition and tears of longing fulfilled.
“What took you so long?!” Is the first time that comes out of his mouth as he squashes down the urge to punch Donghae and hug him at the same time.
The tip of Donghae’s lips curl and Hyukjae thinks that this time, that smile really is a smirk as Donghae throws the question back at him. “What took you so long? I was expecting you to get frustrated within two weeks. Was my talk really that impactful that it’s the reason why you took 5 years to come to a cross-roads in your life again?”
Hyukjae blinks and realizes how silly he’s been. He’s been behaving like a scholar for the past five years and he hadn’t even thought of how cross-roads could be both physical and metaphorical. “Oh.”
Donghae chuckles and shakes his head like it’s okay, and five years is nothing, and perhaps its not to him. But for Hyukjae, the tears spill over as he is reminded of the absence and the uncertainty, and he forgets about that all when warm arms circle around him and he’s crying so hard he can’t breathe, and maybe he’d die here and be with Donghae forever.
“I’ll never be sure of anything in my life again.” Hyukjae swears between sobs and choking gasp as Donghae laughs with the sound of all that is in between.
“You?” Donghae says with much disbelief, and Hyukjae wrinkles his nose at him. He doesn’t need to share what is in his mind, because he knows that Donghae knows what he’s thinking, although he doesn’t know if it’s because Donghae knows him too well, or because Hyukjae’s face is like an open book. But even if he’s not sure of that and professes always to never be sure, he is sure of one thing - and that is how much he loves the most unknown thing in his life.
And because Donghae is Donghae, he smiles a smile that is happy and sad, and resigned and doubtful and joy and fear and a million other paradoxes at the same time, and Hyukjae likes to think that that smile now says one simple thing that would complete his universal truth and make the world like sunshine and rainbows and puppy dogs.
~*~
But Donghae doesn’t say it, because years later, when Hyukjae’s hair grows white and he’s so frail that he cannot move anymore without complaining about this bone or that muscle, the autumn ends and the last leaf falls to the ground, signalling transition and the end of the period that is in between.
Because now, as Hyukjae steps away from his frail body and he’s strong again, there’s no need for any doubt because the world cannot affect him that same way anymore and he stands on the same ground as Donghae is on.
Because, actually, Hyukjae knew it all along despite his promise not too. Because some things were just truths that could not be doubted.
But now, Donghae says it anyway, because he decides to say it, and because he can because it’s his choice. And he says it to Hyukjae’s sweet smile, and the way when they walk, it’s the cosmos singing in harmony; with a kiss and a look in his eyes that says more than the words actually do.
“Love you.”
~*~