[Infinite] How To Break A Fireproof Heart -Part 1-
Title: How To Break A Fireproof Heart (1/2)
Author: Heiji Hatsutori
Length: 3,658 words
Genre: AU, Angst
Pairing: Myungsoo-centric, Myungsoo/?, Bandfic
Rating: PG
Summary:
The owner of the shop is a man who used to travel around the world after finishing high school and loves telling stories on his travel adventures, though he hardly talk about his personal life, and tends to clam up when asked. He always opens the shop early, feeding the birds, and bugs the hell out of the stoic young officer who came from the city after been posted at the small village a couple of years back.
A/N:
Originally posted here as part of Infinite Minibang/Bigbang 2014 at dashidorawa.
I’m really sorry for my inability to be coherent but in my defense I swear Myungsoo is a rebel that loves to ruin whatever I have planned for this fic. Really. This is supposed to purely be bandfic, but a closer read after submitting the whole thing and I realized it's not quite the case, thus the update up there.
Also, Livejournal might just be out to piss me off royally (and succeeds spectacularly at that) by forcing me to cut this into two. Yeah, I don't get it either. (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
Now with fanmix. Download or listen to the playlist.
HOW TO BREAK A FIREPROOF HEART
Let’s scribe onto the hearts only those
Memories that we wish to hold onto
What else can we do
*******
There is a wooden shop selling souvenir at the corner of the road by the police station. The shop is small, simple, and from the window outside there are lots of hanging trinkets adorning the upper space of the shelf, which is full with colorful sculpture and whatnot, neatly arranged.
The owner of the shop is a man who used to travel around the world after finishing high school and loves telling stories on his travel adventures, though he hardly talk about his personal life, and tends to clam up when asked. He always opens the shop early, feeding the birds, and bugs the hell out of the stoic young officer who came from the city after been posted at the small village a couple of years back.
The two have been close friends somehow, despite the opposite in their personalities, and it is always one with the other, never without.
Until one day the shopkeeper falls down to his death from the hospital building.
*******
The feelings that have fallen
Even if I grab them, they fall apart in my hand
Myungsoo groans awake with the incessant ringing of his alarm clock, hands covering his face. The takeout polystyrene had piled up so much on one side of the room that he was inclined to just throw them all into the fire, though chances is that he will be puking all over it first. Ignoring the nagging thought in his mind to throw them out already, he drags his heavy body to the bathroom to wash up, and proceeds to finish everything without as much of a glance at the mirror.
This proves to be the worst thing to do when he is kicked out unceremoniously by his superior at his haggard appearance with a bundle of letter on one hand neatly tied up into a package, his badge and gun taken and locked away in the superior’s desk drawer.
‘Long paid vacation for unruly behavior’, the man had said, the word suspension hanging in the air, though the pain in the elder’s eyes suggest otherwise; he had not taken a single break since that incident, immersing himself in work to the point of being obsessed with even the simplest paperwork, and his crooked tie and messy hair must have set the man off this morning, he reasons.
But when he returns to his small flat and opens the bundle, taking the first letter atop the pile and flips it to see the sender, he almost screams.
“I don’t know what this is about, but at least you’ll have something to do now.”
Damn straight he is, for apparently the bastard had a decency to leave a crazy bundle of letters to his superior of all people to give to him when he takes -or forced to take- a break, and he had begrudgingly accepted them, as he is not one to disobey his boss. A quick scan of the other letters shows recipients with names he don’t recognize, and there’s a couple addressed to him himself, with numbers suggesting the order to open.
Tearing open the first numbered letter, he is greeted with the usual brand of greeting in a clear, clean handwriting.
Hey, Mr. Officer, he reads and he almost snorted at the greeting.
I need you to do me a favor. Of course, why else would you write, he thinks.
It will be the last one so no need to worry much, for chances are when you read this I’m no longer around. Hell, okay, I’m dead. So yeah, think of this as my final wish or something.
Something pricks him in the inside at that.
I need you to find and deliver those letters for me. They are my old friends back in high school, and we were close, but things happen and…yeah. Still, I don’t want to leave things hanging, even when I’m dead and all. Call me selfish, and you’ll want to strangle me for giving you work (har har) but you need to get the hell out of there. Seriously, stop brooding and doing all those boring paperwork and take a break already!
He can hear the voice scolding him in his head, and he has to wonder if he indeed was being cooped out for too long now.
So take this chance to go back to the city (I know you won’t go if you don’t have a reason thus this is it; a reason. I’m a genius!) and change your pace a bit. I won’t apologize for bugging you now, and don’t argue; there isn’t much else you can do anyways.
True, he thinks.
Inserted along is the picture of the 6 of us, with names so you’ll know who’s who, and clipped together with the letter is an attachment of instruction for you to read in order to do this smoothly. You might think it’s odd but my friends can be a bit…weird at times so it’ll be better for you to prepare a little bit.
He raised a brow at that, and starts having second thoughts on the whole affair, but he looks at the picture and there’s six young men smiling at the camera, the only face he knows has a smile so wide that is not far off from the ones he remembers, and he dismissed the thought immediately.
Myungsoo is not a people’s person and he had a hard time adjusting to the place when he first arrived, that he might be as isolated as a man can be had not for that person helping him out and befriending him when there’s no reason to do so.
He owed the man a lot, who might be one he can really call and proudly say as his best friend, and he almost figured that these people might be the reason why the man was so adamant on talking about his past, as there’s always a melancholic air when the topic showed up, somehow.
He never pried, nor did he push the topic further, for he also not keen on talking about his own past either. But to ask of this after leaving the world himself, he cannot even begin to imagine the strength his friend must have in writing all these letters.
For making amends is the hardest thing to do, even when time starts slipping away.
Thank you, and be well, Myungsoo.
He closes the letter and starts by taking out the garbage.
Later, he sits in his cleared and bare flat, and breathes.
*******
Could you want me to find my way back to you
Did you need me to find my way back to you
“Hey, Mr. Officer,”
He turns to face the person in front of him.
“Aside from work, what do you do?”
He raises an eyebrow at that.
“I mean, sure, there must be something, but, how to put this.”
He keeps staring, as the wind tousled at their hair.
“You need to live more.”
It’s getting colder, now.
“Really, you have to.”
He remains silent.
*******
And if we turn back time
Could we learn to live right?
Lee Howon or Hoya as he is affectionately called by some is a busy man in that he has tons of cases to review and a reputation to keep and a constant headache which makes him not the friendliest people around. This is a man with so much determination he can do anything and everything if he really so wishes for and puts his brilliant mind to.
At least, that is what he knows from the brief introduction attached to the soon-to-be-delivered letter to the young defense attorney.
He is also quite cold at first meeting, but you’re not one to talk so it’ll be fine.
Myungsoo does not know if he should be grateful or rip the paper off to shreds.
But perhaps it’s his luck, for when he reach the prosecutor office and ask for a certain attorney at the lobby the said person was walking by and promptly asked for his business right there and then. And that’s how he found himself sitting in front of Howon at a nearby café.
At least he can skip on making an appointment now; they can be a pain at times.
“I am bequeathed to deliver this as per his final wishes.”
Carefully, he passes the letter across the table.
Ask him to read it immediately. Or he’ll forget all about it when he goes back working.
Though that might not be the case after all, if the intense look the man is giving the letter to go by; it’s like he can burn the paper with his stare alone.
Still, he is about to open his mouth to speak when the elder beat him to it.
“How…did he, I mean-“
There’s a pain in the man’s eyes at that and he steels himself.
“It’s an accident.”
He knows he is simplifying things way too much, but what the other doesn’t know won’t hurt him, he rationalizes.
“Then- no, never mind; that man always prepared for everything since back then.”
He internally breathes a sigh of relief, for that means he can keep himself from explaining everything away. He himself may not be ready enough to talk about it actually, no, not even now.
With that, Howon reaches for the letter and opens it. Though when the cool and collected attorney starts cursing in less than a minute since he starts reading Myungsoo mentally imagines giving the sender a full-blown kick from the back. Surely, the attorney would not mind that in the least.
But he changes his mind as Howon starts to smile softly, eyes going over the layers of papers (that person sure can write, he thinks), and is close to tears when he is done.
He does not know what was written -it’s not his business after all- but the attorney calls his secretary and informs that he is taking a half day today and proceeds to talk; about their high school days, the shenanigans that more often than not got the group into trouble, and a bit about the others when he told that there’s letters for the rest of them too, and that he only goes to Howon first because that’s what he was required of.
And then there’s the request, too.
If he inclines to talk, and do so, listen to him, please.
So he does just that, nodding at the right places, and watches as mixes of emotions lay bare on the other man’s face.
When they part later on after a couple shot of soju, and dull throbbing starts creeping at the corner of his head, the only thing that remains clear in his drowsy mind is Howon’s tear-stricken face as he talks about the fight they had, how his last words was for the late friend to go and die somewhere, never knowing that it would literally become the exact truth.
He will cry, but its fine, and do tell him I’m sorry, tell him that for me.
He did as he was asked for, but Howon smiles bitterly instead, and it hurts.
Even more so than he thought it would.
*******
Choose your last words
This is the last time
“Hey, Hoya,”
He ignores the call.
“I’m leaving this place.”
He turns at that, anger rising in him.
“I’m going to see the world, I-“
He raises a hand, cutting the other stop.
“We already talk about this. Don’t start now.”
There is a bitter smile, but he knows it’s futile, the other has already decided.
“I told him already, and he gives me his support.”
That was the last straw, and he screams.
*******
It smashed the world I was living in
It smashed the world you were living in
There’s an impending headache coming as he stares blankly at the crazy long attached paper -or papers, really- for the second person. Skimming through the ridiculous amount of words he realizes it’s mostly a guide on various what-if situations, and he has to wonder how bad this person can be, to make that very-much no-nonsense shopkeeper to worry to this degree.
Until he read the very first line and promptly hit his head on the desk.
Google street artist Jang Dongwoo and if you’re lucky you can get his latest location.
You’ve got to be kidding me, he curses.
I mean, he has a habit of being anywhere and everywhere and his wanderlust might be even worse than me these days (though that’s because I can’t really go anyway by now- okay I better stop with this kind of black humor before you burn this away). He didn’t have the plan to leave Korea though, and chances he wouldn’t be, too, so no worries.
Good you know, he thinks bitterly. And at least he won’t be leaving the country himself to deliver some letter to God knows where now.
He’s nice, hell, he might be the nicest guy I ever know, and he’s the only one that give me full support when I decided to travel around; though I know it kills him to be left behind as he wants to leave as much as I did. But Dongwoo, he’s just- meet him and you’ll know.
He briefly considers asking for Howon’s help, but Google is easier and definitely reduce the potential awkwardness after the impromptu night out two days ago, regardless of how ridiculous of a plan it sounds.
Alas, Myungsoo is not one to purely believe in luck, nor is he religious by any means, but a quick search and he found a post on some girl’s blog that gushes on how she met the apparently infamous (?) street artist who never stays put in one place at the nearby city, to which he just think screw it all and follows his guts by taking a taxi straightaway to the place mentioned in the post.
And he caught himself dumbfounded with utter disbelief later when lo and behold he is there, at the centre of some park with the water fountain flows smoothly and continuously at the background, facing the so-called mysterious street artist Jang Dongwoo who greets him like an old friend instead of a stranger, and starts inviting him to sit even before he get a chance for a greeting.
He remembers the picture, and belatedly noted that the man’s smile is still the same, one that is so wide it lights up his whole face, and only second to the ridiculous one the shopkeeper sports on.
He takes the offer and sits, letting the man chatter away excitedly about some bird that came close to him that morning, and surprisingly finding himself not minding the situation one bit.
When he properly introduces himself later, and watches at how hard the elder’s face fell at the sight of the letter and the news of the sender, he understands why the late friend of theirs was so, so worried.
Make sure he reads it, no matter how hard it is. He needs to read it, the letter.
He watches as Dongwoo clearly struggling with keeping himself in check as he trudges on the letter. This is a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, open and bare, and this experience is much more unpleasant and way harder to handle than when he met Howon before, that he ends up staring down the ground, unable to look at the painfully hurt look that replace the cheerful expression on the man’s face earlier.
Tell him I’m so, so sorry. I just- please, give him a hug for me?
Wordlessly, the man reaches out for a hug, and it breaks him a bit inside when he can feel the man shaking, his shoulder starts to feel damp from all the tears.
If he starts crying, don’t say anything. I can never handle the sight of him crying before, but you’re much tougher than me in the emotional department (though you really need to emote more I think) so it should be fine, if it’s you.
Let him talk, cry, whatever. Let him do whatever he wants. Let him.
So he sits there, ignoring the spectacle they are making -two grown adults holding each other close in public with one of them crying uncontrollably on the other’s shoulder must be quite a sight regardless- and stares up at the orange sky, the golden hue shines colorlessly in his eyes.
And the whole time he keeps on struggling to simply breathing.
*******
He smiles politely back to you
You stare politely right on through
“Hey, Dongwoo,”
He smiles, like always.
“I-“
He shakes his head at that, and watches as the eyes go distant.
“Don’t be; there’s nothing much left to say now, isn’t it?”
He keeps his voice low, and musters enough courage to meet the other’s eyes dead on.
“I’m happy for you, really.”
Perhaps he really is, deep down inside, for he sounds so sincere and surprised himself.
“I am.”
He lets the other go, and conveniently ignores the way the hand was shaking in his.
*******
You’re fireproof
Nothing breaks your heart
Myungsoo spends the next three days cooping in his temporarily rented studio apartment, the one he stayed back when he was still an officer stationed at the nearby police station two blocks down the road. It is simply a stroke of luck that the place was empty at the moment, and he remembered the surprised look on the landlady’s face when he came knocking, like she just saw a ghost from the past or something.
In a way, maybe he is.
The room is, if anything, still the same as before; he can still count the cracks on the wall when he tilts his head just so, the cold floor hard and unforgiving against his body, and it is still bare of furniture, which may be off-putting to some but just perfectly right for him.
That might be the very reason why the landlady remembered him so much; being the longest tenant who manages to rent the place with no fuss on the condition.
He grabs his backpack as a makeshift pillow, and closes his eyes when there’s a knock at the door. Groaning, he blearily stands up and calls out, to which the landlady’s scoff greets him back.
Sheepishly, he opens the door, and struck dumb when he realizes that the landlady’s got company. He can barely register the pointed look from the elderly when she pushes the food containers into his hand, and promptly walks away from the awkward situation.
Which is putting it lightly, when standing with eyes downcast in front of him, is the famous singer-songwriter Nam Woohyun.
Just be polite. Dude is more sensitive than he lets on.
Scratching his head at the turn of events, he lets the man in, and puts the food away on the small coffee table at the corner, his mind whirling.
“I heard from Dongwoo; about the letters.”
Well that makes it easier, though that still does not explain everything.
“I got your address from Hoya, when he drops by the other day.”
He cringes at the memory, and inwardly applauded the attorney for the ability to memorize such detail even when being under alcohol influence. He had send the man away in a taxi, but have to drop by his place first for the extra fare, and it’s almost humiliating how he forgot to being enough cash in his wallet that night.
Being at the small village means low maintenance on money, and the habit must stick enough to him despite realizing that Seoul is another beast altogether.
Wordlessly, he takes out the letter from his backpack, and hands it over. At this point he does not think that any introduction is necessary between them, and judging from the way the other had trudged on with the details, the thought is mutual.
Still, he makes two cup of coffee while Woohyun reads and almost drop them on his lap when the man glares at him, obvious hatred in his eyes, the papers crumpled in his fist.
“You, Kim Myungsoo, right?”
The venom in the voice is unmistakable, but he calmly nods.
“Tell me, how did he die?”
He swallows at that.
“Don’t give me any stupid crap like accident; I won’t buy that.”
You’re an officer; surely you can handle him, whoever they are.
He meets Woohyun’s eyes, and breathes.
“It is an accident.”
This is something they don’t need to know.
“The railing broke and gives out on him.”
He speaks with such conviction, befitting of an ex-homicide detective.
It wouldn’t change anything anyway.
He begs to differ, but who is he to say anything.
“That’s all.”
He sees Woohyun wavers in front of him, his anger crumbling down ever so softly, yet he keeps his guard up the whole time, until the other man bows humbly and walks away, the letter smoothens and heavy in the singer’s hand and he is alone again.
“Thank you and I’m sorry for the intrusion; it’s just, I can’t imagine him to die that easily, just because of some stupid railing.”
Myungsoo sits; hugging his knees at the innermost corner and catches his reflection at the mirror on the opposite wall.
“He is- he’s much better than that.”
The old craving for nicotine strikes up again, as he stares at his own dead, cold eyes.
Still he sits there, unmoving.
*******
But don't bring tomorrow
'Cause I already know
“Hey, Mr. Officer,”
He hums in reply.
“I’m going to die.”
He leans against the wall, and stares at the sky.
“Don’t cry for me.”
There is nothing but clear blue above, mocking him endlessly.
“Really, I mean it.”
He remains silent.
“Until you-
-Part 2-
Author: Heiji Hatsutori
Length: 3,658 words
Genre: AU, Angst
Pairing: Myungsoo-centric, Myungsoo/?, Bandfic
Rating: PG
Summary:
The owner of the shop is a man who used to travel around the world after finishing high school and loves telling stories on his travel adventures, though he hardly talk about his personal life, and tends to clam up when asked. He always opens the shop early, feeding the birds, and bugs the hell out of the stoic young officer who came from the city after been posted at the small village a couple of years back.
A/N:
Originally posted here as part of Infinite Minibang/Bigbang 2014 at dashidorawa.
I’m really sorry for my inability to be coherent but in my defense I swear Myungsoo is a rebel that loves to ruin whatever I have planned for this fic. Really. This is supposed to purely be bandfic, but a closer read after submitting the whole thing and I realized it's not quite the case, thus the update up there.
Also, Livejournal might just be out to piss me off royally (and succeeds spectacularly at that) by forcing me to cut this into two. Yeah, I don't get it either. (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
Now with fanmix. Download or listen to the playlist.
HOW TO BREAK A FIREPROOF HEART
Let’s scribe onto the hearts only those
Memories that we wish to hold onto
What else can we do
*******
There is a wooden shop selling souvenir at the corner of the road by the police station. The shop is small, simple, and from the window outside there are lots of hanging trinkets adorning the upper space of the shelf, which is full with colorful sculpture and whatnot, neatly arranged.
The owner of the shop is a man who used to travel around the world after finishing high school and loves telling stories on his travel adventures, though he hardly talk about his personal life, and tends to clam up when asked. He always opens the shop early, feeding the birds, and bugs the hell out of the stoic young officer who came from the city after been posted at the small village a couple of years back.
The two have been close friends somehow, despite the opposite in their personalities, and it is always one with the other, never without.
Until one day the shopkeeper falls down to his death from the hospital building.
*******
The feelings that have fallen
Even if I grab them, they fall apart in my hand
Myungsoo groans awake with the incessant ringing of his alarm clock, hands covering his face. The takeout polystyrene had piled up so much on one side of the room that he was inclined to just throw them all into the fire, though chances is that he will be puking all over it first. Ignoring the nagging thought in his mind to throw them out already, he drags his heavy body to the bathroom to wash up, and proceeds to finish everything without as much of a glance at the mirror.
This proves to be the worst thing to do when he is kicked out unceremoniously by his superior at his haggard appearance with a bundle of letter on one hand neatly tied up into a package, his badge and gun taken and locked away in the superior’s desk drawer.
‘Long paid vacation for unruly behavior’, the man had said, the word suspension hanging in the air, though the pain in the elder’s eyes suggest otherwise; he had not taken a single break since that incident, immersing himself in work to the point of being obsessed with even the simplest paperwork, and his crooked tie and messy hair must have set the man off this morning, he reasons.
But when he returns to his small flat and opens the bundle, taking the first letter atop the pile and flips it to see the sender, he almost screams.
“I don’t know what this is about, but at least you’ll have something to do now.”
Damn straight he is, for apparently the bastard had a decency to leave a crazy bundle of letters to his superior of all people to give to him when he takes -or forced to take- a break, and he had begrudgingly accepted them, as he is not one to disobey his boss. A quick scan of the other letters shows recipients with names he don’t recognize, and there’s a couple addressed to him himself, with numbers suggesting the order to open.
Tearing open the first numbered letter, he is greeted with the usual brand of greeting in a clear, clean handwriting.
Hey, Mr. Officer, he reads and he almost snorted at the greeting.
I need you to do me a favor. Of course, why else would you write, he thinks.
It will be the last one so no need to worry much, for chances are when you read this I’m no longer around. Hell, okay, I’m dead. So yeah, think of this as my final wish or something.
Something pricks him in the inside at that.
I need you to find and deliver those letters for me. They are my old friends back in high school, and we were close, but things happen and…yeah. Still, I don’t want to leave things hanging, even when I’m dead and all. Call me selfish, and you’ll want to strangle me for giving you work (har har) but you need to get the hell out of there. Seriously, stop brooding and doing all those boring paperwork and take a break already!
He can hear the voice scolding him in his head, and he has to wonder if he indeed was being cooped out for too long now.
So take this chance to go back to the city (I know you won’t go if you don’t have a reason thus this is it; a reason. I’m a genius!) and change your pace a bit. I won’t apologize for bugging you now, and don’t argue; there isn’t much else you can do anyways.
True, he thinks.
Inserted along is the picture of the 6 of us, with names so you’ll know who’s who, and clipped together with the letter is an attachment of instruction for you to read in order to do this smoothly. You might think it’s odd but my friends can be a bit…weird at times so it’ll be better for you to prepare a little bit.
He raised a brow at that, and starts having second thoughts on the whole affair, but he looks at the picture and there’s six young men smiling at the camera, the only face he knows has a smile so wide that is not far off from the ones he remembers, and he dismissed the thought immediately.
Myungsoo is not a people’s person and he had a hard time adjusting to the place when he first arrived, that he might be as isolated as a man can be had not for that person helping him out and befriending him when there’s no reason to do so.
He owed the man a lot, who might be one he can really call and proudly say as his best friend, and he almost figured that these people might be the reason why the man was so adamant on talking about his past, as there’s always a melancholic air when the topic showed up, somehow.
He never pried, nor did he push the topic further, for he also not keen on talking about his own past either. But to ask of this after leaving the world himself, he cannot even begin to imagine the strength his friend must have in writing all these letters.
For making amends is the hardest thing to do, even when time starts slipping away.
Thank you, and be well, Myungsoo.
He closes the letter and starts by taking out the garbage.
Later, he sits in his cleared and bare flat, and breathes.
*******
Could you want me to find my way back to you
Did you need me to find my way back to you
“Hey, Mr. Officer,”
He turns to face the person in front of him.
“Aside from work, what do you do?”
He raises an eyebrow at that.
“I mean, sure, there must be something, but, how to put this.”
He keeps staring, as the wind tousled at their hair.
“You need to live more.”
It’s getting colder, now.
“Really, you have to.”
He remains silent.
*******
And if we turn back time
Could we learn to live right?
Lee Howon or Hoya as he is affectionately called by some is a busy man in that he has tons of cases to review and a reputation to keep and a constant headache which makes him not the friendliest people around. This is a man with so much determination he can do anything and everything if he really so wishes for and puts his brilliant mind to.
At least, that is what he knows from the brief introduction attached to the soon-to-be-delivered letter to the young defense attorney.
He is also quite cold at first meeting, but you’re not one to talk so it’ll be fine.
Myungsoo does not know if he should be grateful or rip the paper off to shreds.
But perhaps it’s his luck, for when he reach the prosecutor office and ask for a certain attorney at the lobby the said person was walking by and promptly asked for his business right there and then. And that’s how he found himself sitting in front of Howon at a nearby café.
At least he can skip on making an appointment now; they can be a pain at times.
“I am bequeathed to deliver this as per his final wishes.”
Carefully, he passes the letter across the table.
Ask him to read it immediately. Or he’ll forget all about it when he goes back working.
Though that might not be the case after all, if the intense look the man is giving the letter to go by; it’s like he can burn the paper with his stare alone.
Still, he is about to open his mouth to speak when the elder beat him to it.
“How…did he, I mean-“
There’s a pain in the man’s eyes at that and he steels himself.
“It’s an accident.”
He knows he is simplifying things way too much, but what the other doesn’t know won’t hurt him, he rationalizes.
“Then- no, never mind; that man always prepared for everything since back then.”
He internally breathes a sigh of relief, for that means he can keep himself from explaining everything away. He himself may not be ready enough to talk about it actually, no, not even now.
With that, Howon reaches for the letter and opens it. Though when the cool and collected attorney starts cursing in less than a minute since he starts reading Myungsoo mentally imagines giving the sender a full-blown kick from the back. Surely, the attorney would not mind that in the least.
But he changes his mind as Howon starts to smile softly, eyes going over the layers of papers (that person sure can write, he thinks), and is close to tears when he is done.
He does not know what was written -it’s not his business after all- but the attorney calls his secretary and informs that he is taking a half day today and proceeds to talk; about their high school days, the shenanigans that more often than not got the group into trouble, and a bit about the others when he told that there’s letters for the rest of them too, and that he only goes to Howon first because that’s what he was required of.
And then there’s the request, too.
If he inclines to talk, and do so, listen to him, please.
So he does just that, nodding at the right places, and watches as mixes of emotions lay bare on the other man’s face.
When they part later on after a couple shot of soju, and dull throbbing starts creeping at the corner of his head, the only thing that remains clear in his drowsy mind is Howon’s tear-stricken face as he talks about the fight they had, how his last words was for the late friend to go and die somewhere, never knowing that it would literally become the exact truth.
He will cry, but its fine, and do tell him I’m sorry, tell him that for me.
He did as he was asked for, but Howon smiles bitterly instead, and it hurts.
Even more so than he thought it would.
*******
Choose your last words
This is the last time
“Hey, Hoya,”
He ignores the call.
“I’m leaving this place.”
He turns at that, anger rising in him.
“I’m going to see the world, I-“
He raises a hand, cutting the other stop.
“We already talk about this. Don’t start now.”
There is a bitter smile, but he knows it’s futile, the other has already decided.
“I told him already, and he gives me his support.”
That was the last straw, and he screams.
*******
It smashed the world I was living in
It smashed the world you were living in
There’s an impending headache coming as he stares blankly at the crazy long attached paper -or papers, really- for the second person. Skimming through the ridiculous amount of words he realizes it’s mostly a guide on various what-if situations, and he has to wonder how bad this person can be, to make that very-much no-nonsense shopkeeper to worry to this degree.
Until he read the very first line and promptly hit his head on the desk.
Google street artist Jang Dongwoo and if you’re lucky you can get his latest location.
You’ve got to be kidding me, he curses.
I mean, he has a habit of being anywhere and everywhere and his wanderlust might be even worse than me these days (though that’s because I can’t really go anyway by now- okay I better stop with this kind of black humor before you burn this away). He didn’t have the plan to leave Korea though, and chances he wouldn’t be, too, so no worries.
Good you know, he thinks bitterly. And at least he won’t be leaving the country himself to deliver some letter to God knows where now.
He’s nice, hell, he might be the nicest guy I ever know, and he’s the only one that give me full support when I decided to travel around; though I know it kills him to be left behind as he wants to leave as much as I did. But Dongwoo, he’s just- meet him and you’ll know.
He briefly considers asking for Howon’s help, but Google is easier and definitely reduce the potential awkwardness after the impromptu night out two days ago, regardless of how ridiculous of a plan it sounds.
Alas, Myungsoo is not one to purely believe in luck, nor is he religious by any means, but a quick search and he found a post on some girl’s blog that gushes on how she met the apparently infamous (?) street artist who never stays put in one place at the nearby city, to which he just think screw it all and follows his guts by taking a taxi straightaway to the place mentioned in the post.
And he caught himself dumbfounded with utter disbelief later when lo and behold he is there, at the centre of some park with the water fountain flows smoothly and continuously at the background, facing the so-called mysterious street artist Jang Dongwoo who greets him like an old friend instead of a stranger, and starts inviting him to sit even before he get a chance for a greeting.
He remembers the picture, and belatedly noted that the man’s smile is still the same, one that is so wide it lights up his whole face, and only second to the ridiculous one the shopkeeper sports on.
He takes the offer and sits, letting the man chatter away excitedly about some bird that came close to him that morning, and surprisingly finding himself not minding the situation one bit.
When he properly introduces himself later, and watches at how hard the elder’s face fell at the sight of the letter and the news of the sender, he understands why the late friend of theirs was so, so worried.
Make sure he reads it, no matter how hard it is. He needs to read it, the letter.
He watches as Dongwoo clearly struggling with keeping himself in check as he trudges on the letter. This is a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, open and bare, and this experience is much more unpleasant and way harder to handle than when he met Howon before, that he ends up staring down the ground, unable to look at the painfully hurt look that replace the cheerful expression on the man’s face earlier.
Tell him I’m so, so sorry. I just- please, give him a hug for me?
Wordlessly, the man reaches out for a hug, and it breaks him a bit inside when he can feel the man shaking, his shoulder starts to feel damp from all the tears.
If he starts crying, don’t say anything. I can never handle the sight of him crying before, but you’re much tougher than me in the emotional department (though you really need to emote more I think) so it should be fine, if it’s you.
Let him talk, cry, whatever. Let him do whatever he wants. Let him.
So he sits there, ignoring the spectacle they are making -two grown adults holding each other close in public with one of them crying uncontrollably on the other’s shoulder must be quite a sight regardless- and stares up at the orange sky, the golden hue shines colorlessly in his eyes.
And the whole time he keeps on struggling to simply breathing.
*******
He smiles politely back to you
You stare politely right on through
“Hey, Dongwoo,”
He smiles, like always.
“I-“
He shakes his head at that, and watches as the eyes go distant.
“Don’t be; there’s nothing much left to say now, isn’t it?”
He keeps his voice low, and musters enough courage to meet the other’s eyes dead on.
“I’m happy for you, really.”
Perhaps he really is, deep down inside, for he sounds so sincere and surprised himself.
“I am.”
He lets the other go, and conveniently ignores the way the hand was shaking in his.
*******
You’re fireproof
Nothing breaks your heart
Myungsoo spends the next three days cooping in his temporarily rented studio apartment, the one he stayed back when he was still an officer stationed at the nearby police station two blocks down the road. It is simply a stroke of luck that the place was empty at the moment, and he remembered the surprised look on the landlady’s face when he came knocking, like she just saw a ghost from the past or something.
In a way, maybe he is.
The room is, if anything, still the same as before; he can still count the cracks on the wall when he tilts his head just so, the cold floor hard and unforgiving against his body, and it is still bare of furniture, which may be off-putting to some but just perfectly right for him.
That might be the very reason why the landlady remembered him so much; being the longest tenant who manages to rent the place with no fuss on the condition.
He grabs his backpack as a makeshift pillow, and closes his eyes when there’s a knock at the door. Groaning, he blearily stands up and calls out, to which the landlady’s scoff greets him back.
Sheepishly, he opens the door, and struck dumb when he realizes that the landlady’s got company. He can barely register the pointed look from the elderly when she pushes the food containers into his hand, and promptly walks away from the awkward situation.
Which is putting it lightly, when standing with eyes downcast in front of him, is the famous singer-songwriter Nam Woohyun.
Just be polite. Dude is more sensitive than he lets on.
Scratching his head at the turn of events, he lets the man in, and puts the food away on the small coffee table at the corner, his mind whirling.
“I heard from Dongwoo; about the letters.”
Well that makes it easier, though that still does not explain everything.
“I got your address from Hoya, when he drops by the other day.”
He cringes at the memory, and inwardly applauded the attorney for the ability to memorize such detail even when being under alcohol influence. He had send the man away in a taxi, but have to drop by his place first for the extra fare, and it’s almost humiliating how he forgot to being enough cash in his wallet that night.
Being at the small village means low maintenance on money, and the habit must stick enough to him despite realizing that Seoul is another beast altogether.
Wordlessly, he takes out the letter from his backpack, and hands it over. At this point he does not think that any introduction is necessary between them, and judging from the way the other had trudged on with the details, the thought is mutual.
Still, he makes two cup of coffee while Woohyun reads and almost drop them on his lap when the man glares at him, obvious hatred in his eyes, the papers crumpled in his fist.
“You, Kim Myungsoo, right?”
The venom in the voice is unmistakable, but he calmly nods.
“Tell me, how did he die?”
He swallows at that.
“Don’t give me any stupid crap like accident; I won’t buy that.”
You’re an officer; surely you can handle him, whoever they are.
He meets Woohyun’s eyes, and breathes.
“It is an accident.”
This is something they don’t need to know.
“The railing broke and gives out on him.”
He speaks with such conviction, befitting of an ex-homicide detective.
It wouldn’t change anything anyway.
He begs to differ, but who is he to say anything.
“That’s all.”
He sees Woohyun wavers in front of him, his anger crumbling down ever so softly, yet he keeps his guard up the whole time, until the other man bows humbly and walks away, the letter smoothens and heavy in the singer’s hand and he is alone again.
“Thank you and I’m sorry for the intrusion; it’s just, I can’t imagine him to die that easily, just because of some stupid railing.”
Myungsoo sits; hugging his knees at the innermost corner and catches his reflection at the mirror on the opposite wall.
“He is- he’s much better than that.”
The old craving for nicotine strikes up again, as he stares at his own dead, cold eyes.
Still he sits there, unmoving.
*******
But don't bring tomorrow
'Cause I already know
“Hey, Mr. Officer,”
He hums in reply.
“I’m going to die.”
He leans against the wall, and stares at the sky.
“Don’t cry for me.”
There is nothing but clear blue above, mocking him endlessly.
“Really, I mean it.”
He remains silent.
“Until you-
-Part 2-