winter's getting colder
title: winter's getting colder
pairing: hakyeon/jaehwan | jaehwan/wonsik
rating: g
word count: 6,014
summary: moving on is a lot more difficult without closure.
a/n: so last month i opened one of my old drafts thinking that i could revamp it and wrap it up but the "last edited" date was january 2016 so i tossed it and started completely from scratch and this is it...hope it worked >_<
❝i'm pedaling backwards,
even if i'm pedaling alone, can't help it,
i relive it, relive it all.❞
- bastille, winter of our youth
I.
i. “Do you like me?”
Jaehwan had often prided himself on his ability to multitask between art and conversation, a chatty quality about him that had the tendency to annoy his classmates, but this question caught him off-guard and caused him to pause mid-stroke, his pencil hovering above the page and threatening to fall from between his fingers. He looked up when he heard the scuff sound of Hakyeon’s shoes scraping against the ground to stop the swing he was on. They were much too old for this playground, Hakyeon’s toes would hit the ground as he swung if he didn’t draw them close enough to his body, but that didn’t stop them from going when they needed a change of scene from the university campus.
The streetlamp Jaehwan crouched under flickered a few times in quick succession then settled with a soft electrical hum. He looked back down at his sketch - his own rendition of Hakyeon on the swings, at the top of the arch with his legs out and the breeze going through his hair - and penciled in a few minor details on the clothing until he noticed a shadow obstructing the light he received from the streetlamp. He stopped what he was doing immediately and pulled the sketchbook to his chest. “No sneak peeks!”
Hakyeon sat on the bench Jaehwan had neglected to use (“It’s too rough!” had been his complaint. “I don’t need splinters up my ass.”) with his elbow propped up by the bench’s armrest rested his face against his hand. “You didn’t answer my question,” he whined with pouty lips. “Do you like me?”
“What do you mean?” Jaehwan chuckled as he asked. Hakyeon cheekily reached for the sketchbook, but Jaehwan only tightened his grip. He knew Hakyeon only meant it as a joke, but his “no peeking” policy wasn’t one - regardless of best friend status. “Of course I like you!” He turned so he was facing Hakyeon and scribbled in some small details before he allowed the older to see. “You’re my favourite subject!”
This clearly wasn’t the answer Hakyeon was looking for because Jaehwan noticed the playful glint in his eyes momentarily disappear, but one look at the sketch had him smiling again. “Can I keep it?” he asked.
Jaehwan bit his lip and hesitated. “I still need to fix some things,” he muttered, but then he saw Hakyeon’s face and his expression could only be described as “puppy dog eyes” and that was enough for him to cave. He folded the page twice over on its perforated edge and took it out at a meticulously slow pace as to not create any tears. “You’d better take good care of it,” he warned.
Hakyeon beamed back at him. “I’m going to frame it,” he promised.
A backpack leaned against Jaehwan and he pulled it in front of himself, unzipped it and put his sketchbook and pencil inside. He threw it over his shoulder as he stood up. He felt a tug and looked over his shoulder just as Hakyeon finished zipping up the bag.
“Everything was going to fall out,” he mumbled, as if Jaehwan would ever chastise him for saving his ass.
Jaehwan smiled at him in return - a smile that even his ears lifted for. “Isn’t that café you like on the way back?” he asked. Hakyeon nodded, but then stammered something about not having money. “It’s okay, I’ll pay.” He didn’t have much more money than Hakyeon, but he didn’t want to go back to the closed quarters of his room just yet. He didn’t hate his roommate - to the contrary, they were friends - it just felt early in the night and he wanted to be able to stretch his legs a little while longer. Hakyeon hesitated for a moment and in that time Jaehwan was afraid he would decline. Instead, he snuggled deeper into his coat and nodded.
The weather hadn’t been particularly great when they originally went out, a grey overcast hung over the sky the entire day, and it started to rain lightly - just enough for misty droplets to get caught in Hakyeon’s hair and on his eyelashes. Jaehwan stared, wondering how he could capture something so delicate with something as sloppy as his pencilwork. No one else would ever call it sloppy in a million years, but after staring at his own work for hours everyday for years it had seemed to lose its charm on him. Hakyeon was oblivious to the staring and kicked a loose pebble on the sidewalk. When they walked within distance again, he kicked it once more.
Hakyeon’s steps picked up once the shop was in view, and he bounded up the two concrete steps to open the door for Jaehwan, the bell tinkling to announce their arrival. They both sighed in relief at the dryness and warmth that surrounded them and Hakyeon unzipped his coat. He stood on his tiptoes to look over the heads of other patrons for a view of the menu, but Jaehwan knew what he was going to order regardless of how long he stared.
“A medium green tea, please?” Jaehwan could practically mouth the words as the older spoke, but he didn’t.
After they ordered and received their drinks (Jaehwan holding a hot chocolate with both of his hands) Jaehwan started looking for a table, but Hakyeon made for the door. “Wait, we’re not staying?”
Hakyeon stopped and turned back to face Jaehwan, his face appearing surprised at the fact that the younger didn’t follow. “I really need to do some studying,” he said meekly, as if he felt guilty for it, “sorry.”
Jaehwan shook his head. “No need to be sorry.” He followed Hakyeon out the door, completely oblivious as it slammed behind them. “Hey,” he nudged the older with his elbow, “after today, it’s Thursday. And then it’s Friday.”
Hakyeon gave a light smile and chuckled, “Yeah, thank god.” The rain started to pick up, and he pulled his hood over his head. “If I have to take one more test I think I’m going to drown in paper.”
Suddenly, Jaehwan’s stomach sank in a panicked realization. “Shit,” he said through gritted teeth, “I have that painting project due Friday. I’ve barely even finished the sketch.” He stopped walking, unsure what to do. The art building was the complete opposite direction from the dorm buildings, but he had spent most of the night avoiding being alone and still wanted to walk with Hakyeon.
“I can walk back on my own if you need to go,” Hakyeon offered. He had turned around once Jaehwan stopped. He was sunken into his jacket as far as he could go to avoid the rain. He may have been shivering, but Jaehwan also could have been imagining it.
“Are you sure?” Jaehwan’s mouth hung open slightly in surprise. They had been going to school together for years, and not once had Hakyeon ever told Jaehwan to let him go by himself. “I can always double back-”
“It’s just one night, Jaehwan.”
Jaehwan sighed, breath fogged in front of his face, and reluctantly complied. They both waved, and he waited until Hakyeon turned around and walked before doing so himself. He couldn’t say “good-bye” or give him a hug like he usually would outside of the residence hall doors - it didn’t feel right - but the absence of such also made it feel incomplete.
ii. The art building closed to student access at two in the morning each night. This meant that with it being quarter to three, Jaehwan couldn’t leave until he was finished or he’d be screwed. Various shades of blue and grey paint covered his hands at different stages of drying, and occasionally he picked up a pencil to get it out from under his nails. Or he’d forgetfully bite his nails and his face would scrunch up in disgust before he cursed himself out loud. He stared at his painting. It was a mess, to say the least. It was supposed to be a still life of some sort, and he had a great picture of some white lilies to base it off of, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t seem to capture the “life” aspect. Everything looked droopy, as if someone had forgotten to water the flowers for a few days. He let out a groan and slumped over in his seat. He wanted nothing more than to start over, but with the project due in barely over six hours it was too late.
His phone buzzed on the table beside him and he glared at it. Who could possibly be trying to contact him at this hour? He tried to ignore it, but it went off again, and reluctantly he flipped it over to see his roommate’s name all over the screen along with a few missed calls.
wonsik:
[02:53] the cops are here asking about hakyeon...what did you do?
Jaehwan first assumed he’d read the message wrong and brought his phone closer to his face, but no matter how much he squinted, the words wouldn’t change. Without thinking he grabbed his open backpack and swung it over his shoulder without zipping it and ran out of the room, phone in hand. He tried to call Wonsik, but the doors that led outside were heavy and he dropped his phone as he ran into them full speed and they didn’t give as easily as he had hoped. He scurried to pick it up, then ran down the sidewalk in the direction of the dorms. It was freezing without the sun up to give whatever measly amount of warmth it could offer, and all he could focus on was the burn of his lungs and the puffs of his breath that formed in front of his face then fell behind him as he ran.
When he got to the doors he doubled over to catch his breath. His hands went into his pockets and he panicked: they were empty. He had left his keycard in the art building. With numb fingers, he unlocked his phone (messing up the numbers a couple times) and called Wonsik. He could still feel his heart beating in his chest from his sprint.
“Where are you?”
“Can you please let me in? I left my wallet in the art building, I don’t have my card,” the words left his mouth in a panicked tumble and he had to take in a breath afterwards.
Wonsik must have noticed because he immediately went softer, “I’ll be right there. Take deep breaths, okay?”
Jaehwan nodded and hung up, not realizing physical gestures didn’t travel over the phone. The wait felt excruciating and his ears had started to burn from the cold. He tapped his toe impatiently, the bounced on the balls of his feet, and was about to begin pacing when the door opened. Usually he would have rushed inside the second he could, but he didn’t expect the police to follow Wonsik downstairs. Cops in movies seemed cool (or simply a pain in the ass, depending on the genre), but seeing them in from of him for the purpose of questioning him specifically was intimidating to say the least and filled him with anxiety. Wonsik grabbed his arm and gently pulled him into the building, steering him to one of the couches in the lounge to sit down.
Hakyeon was reported missing, they said, and Jaehwan was the last known person to have been in contact with him.
The rest of the night was a blur to him. They asked him questions - things about where and when he last saw Hakyeon (the coffee shop that Wednesday evening on the way back from the park), what he’d been wearing (that pink windbreaker and a black t-shirt underneath, black jeans faded from almost constant wear. Jaehwan would’ve shown them the dang sketch if he hadn’t given it away), if he had said anything concerning that night (he could barely remember their conversation but it was completely mundane, no red flags - Hakyeon wasn’t that kind of person), or if he had sent any texts (Jaehwan had texted him later, but he had gotten no response and had suspected it just meant the older had fallen asleep. He showed them the text conversation without hesitation, regretting he didn’t sense anything was wrong ahead of time).
He didn’t remember when they left, but he remembered bursting into tears shortly thereafter and Wonsik taking him into his arms to comfort him. He didn’t need to ask to know Wonsik was just as worried - he could feel the other’s tears despite how hard he was trying to hold them back. He didn’t remember going to bed - or even how he got there -, but he remembered waking up the next morning feeling completely void. He didn’t go to his classes - he never finished his project anyway and there was no need to relive the night. He didn’t do anything, didn’t eat, didn’t drink. He didn’t go out when people outside of his immediate friend circle mentioned there was a party that night. Usually, Wonsik was the kind of roommate who would notice when Jaehwan started to get in a slump. He wasn’t a mother hen, but if Jaehwan wasn’t taking care of himself he would at the very least make an offhanded comment about getting at least one proper meal per day. But Wonsik himself didn’t seem to have much of a drive or appetite, either.
On Saturday, it didn’t seem real to him. He hadn’t heard from or seen any police since that night. Hakyeon’s parents hadn’t said anything to him. He must have dreamt it. There was no other way. He pushed himself out of bed and grabbed a coat. He couldn’t stand sitting still anymore.
He hadn’t been sleeping well at all, and by the time he got out of bed the sun was already setting - which it was prone to do early in the winter months. He got to Hakyeon’s dorm building and waited outside the door (he still hadn’t retrieved his card and even if he had, he wouldn’t be able to swipe into Hakyeon’s building). He had sent a texts saying he was going over, but no response. He had no choice but to call.
He lost track of how many times he tried -
“Hey, it’s Jaehwan. I’m waiting outside. Sorry it’s short notice, you probably didn’t see my texts. But I’m here now. Could you let me in?”
- but each time he did -
“Me again. Sorry. It’s just kind of cold out here and it’d be really nice to see you. Even for just a minute. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you don’t just let me know so I don’t keep standing out here like an idiot. People keep staring at me.”
- he was only greeted with the mechanical monotone of Hakyeon’s answering machine.
“I’m really sorry I’m taking up so much of your time, but it’s really important. It’s been a couple hours now. It’s pretty dark. And cold. I, uh...Well, people are saying things about you being gone and I just really need you to come outside and prove it’s not true. I know I’m a terrible friend and I ask for a lot of favors, it probably feels like at least three a day to you, but please. Just this one thing and I’ll never ask for anything ever again, I -”
He was cut off by a high-pitched beep followed by the words “voice mailbox full.”
It was Wonsik who found him sitting underneath the streetlight, legs drawn up to his chest and his face buried in his arms, one of his hands clutching his cell phone as if it were his lifeline.
II.
i. Jaehwan had grown used to waking up with Wonsik wrapped around his waist. He had also mastered the art of maneuvering himself out of the tangle of limbs so as to not wake the younger. He sat up and stretched, then padded quietly to look out the window. It had snowed a little the night before, but it was nothing a constant flow of city traffic couldn’t handle - it hadn’t even dusted the road. Nevertheless, it looked grey and cold, which was also accurate in describing how Jaehwan felt that morning. Of course it had to be a Saturday. Any other day of the week and he could have worked to distract himself, but instead he was trapped indoors as a prisoner to his thoughts.
He was staring at the taillights of a taxicab when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a head come to rest on his shoulder.
“Come back to bed,” Wonsik mumbled, words barely comprehensible.
Jaehwan didn’t move, transfixed by the frost on the window. “I don’t think I can go back to sleep.”
The neckline of his white t-shirt was loose, stretched by someone or something in a forgotten act of carelessness, and part of his shoulder was exposed. Wonsik placed a light kiss on the bare skin and tightened his arms around Jaehwan as if to pull him closer. “We don’t have to sleep.”
Jaehwan shrugged him off. “I don’t think I can just lay down, either.” He left the bedroom and entered the kitchen, the apartment floor creaking in between rooms. He opened one of the upper cabinets and removed a mug, then hit the “on” button on the electric kettle sitting next to the sink. Then he stared.
“I don’t think there’s any water in there,” Wonsik pointed out as he reached over Jaehwan’s head to close the open cabinet door.
“Oh.” Jaehwan stared, picked up the kettle, then put it back down. Wonsik reached from behind him to pick it up and fill it from the sink. He placed it back and turned it back on, then rummaged through one of the lower cabinets until he found a box of herbal tea, opened one of the bags and placed it in Jaehwan’s mug. The older tried to mumble his thanks, but no sound made it past his lips.
“I’ll be watching TV if you need me,” he offered, giving Jaehwan a light kiss to the cheek before he left to sit on their worn hand-me-down couch.
Jaehwan stared into the bottom of his still empty mug. He didn’t know what time of day it was - late morning? mid-afternoon? - but it wasn’t as if it would have any effect on him. It wasn’t as if he was going to accomplish anything even if it wasn’t the weekend. The kettle screeched at him, and he poured the water into the mug in a stiff, mechanical manner, a little bit spilling onto the counter. He picked up the mug - cradled it in both hands - then took it back to the bedroom with him.
He stood just inside the doorway for a moment, simultaneously staring at the room but also nothing at all. The bed was a mess, the baby blue sheets and comforter tangled together in a heap at its foot, half of the pile hanging off the bed. There were some bright metallic-colored candy wrappers scattered on the floor one Jaehwan’s side, remnants of an immemorable personal celebration. His cell phone was on the nightstand, but it wasn’t plugged in - he must have forgotten the night before. The blue LED blinked at him to signify a missed message. He approached the table slowly as if he wasn’t committed to the action, and he placed his mug of tea (teabag still soaking) next to the phone.
On the same side of the room as the door was their closet, and he opened it. It was a mess - the only reason their bedroom floor was even remotely clean is because all of their junk was crammed into the small space. Clothes laid in piles on the floor despite there being plenty of empty hangers, and underneath these piles were cardboard boxes in various stages of being unpacked from their recent move. He kneeled on the floor and moved clothes out of the way just enough to be able to pry open the boxes and rummage through them. They mostly contained more clothes and old books and DVDs he never had the heart to get rid of despite not touching them in years, but none of that was what he was looking for. He pushed one box to the side and grabbed another, and the vacuum cleaner that had been leaning on the second box fell over with a clatter. He removed a bunch of socks from the box and placed them to the side, mentally noting to put them away in the drawer with all of the others.
“Are you okay?” Wonsik was standing in the bedroom doorway. “I heard some kind of banging.” Jaehwan nodded and made an absent-minded yeah, I’m fine remark that he hardly even realized left his mouth. “Can I help you? What are you looking for-”
They both froze. From the bottom of the box Jaehwan had pulled out a picture frame partially wrapped in paper for protection during the move. He ripped the paper off for a better look and revealed an old drawing - the paper slightly wrinkled from being stuffed in someone’s pocket for a few minutes and it was too small to fit the frame properly, but it was neater than it would have been had it not been framed. It was the sketch from that day in the park three years before - that last afternoon he’d gotten to spend with Hakyeon. Hakyeon had kept good on his word of taking care of it and framed it as he had promised. The older’s parents had given it to Jaehwan a year after he had disappeared, when they couldn’t bear to have it staring at them any longer. It’d been in the bottom of the box ever and there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think about it.
Jaehwan was stuck. He wanted to stuff it back in the box and not look at it again for another few years, but he also wanted to pull the frame close to his chest and never let it go. He had been holding it up far longer than he should have been, and his arms had begun to shake, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of it.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and started, almost dropping the frame. “Hey,” Wonsik spoke softly, “why don’t we go out to the park or something? Get some fresh air?” He gently removed it from Jaehwan’s hands and placed it on the floor next to the box.
Jaehwan gestured to his outfit, the loose white tee and his baggy grey sweatpants. “I’m not dressed to go out.”
“What about that sweater I got for my birthday?” Wonsik suggested, and when Jaehwan was about to protest he added, “I know it’s big for you but that’s what’ll make it cute. Plus it’s cold outside, and it’ll be extra warm.”
“Okay,” Jaehwan finally conceded, and Wonsik left his side to fetch the sweater from the drawer. He tossed it across the room and it landed draped over the older’s head. A pair of jeans followed with a thump at his side. He changed while Wonsik left the room to turn off the TV and get their coats. He didn’t think the sweater was cute (white, blue, and brown zigzag stripes), but it was warm.
He met Wonsik at the door, and the younger smiled. “It’s cute.” Jaehwan zipped up his coat and scowled in return. “What?”
“I could wear a turkey costume and you’d still call it cute.”
Wonsik’s smile dropped. “You don’t like it?”
“It’s warm.”
Wonsik stopped egging him and opened the door, waiting for Jaehwan to leave first before he followed and locked it behind them.
The second they descended the stairs and exited the doors of the apartment complex, Jaehwan regretted ever letting Wonsik convince him to leave the room. “It’s so cold,” he whined, extending the “o” in “coooooooold” in order to emphasize his misery. Wonsik ignored him and linked their arms to pull Jaehwan closer. He huffed. Outside the city looked just as miserable as it had from inside, and he was certain when they got to the park it would be deserted and lifeless. It was too cold for him to keep his hands out of his jacket pockets, there was no way anything could grow there.
And he was right, for the most part. Standing at the street corner waiting for the light to tell them it was safe to walk he could peer over the traffic and see no one occupying any of the benches. If Wonsik sensed his contempt, he said nothing about it and simply marched on with Jaehwan still attached to his arm when the light changed. He almost seemed determined.
“Isn’t it nice?” he asked.
It was absolutely dreadful. There were no flowers in the flowerbeds, the trees were bare, the grass was brown and droopy and full of mud spots where nothing would grow back for months. There were no birds singing and no children screaming on the playground while their parents yelled words of caution a little too late as someone inevitably fell and scraped their knees.
“It’s empty,” was all Jaehwan could muster.
He could see the disappointment begin to show on Wonsik’s face and he felt guilty. He hated being like this. He desperately wanted to smile and laugh for him, but his mind wouldn’t get let him do anything but relive the events of three years ago. Three years to the day. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he’d first woken up and seen the date. And he had been dreading the day for weeks. But seeing it coming in advance had never been able to prepare him for the impact, especially not at the speed time chugged along.
“More room for us,” Wonsik replied. “Come here.” He beckoned for Jaehwan to follow him into one of the grassy areas and picked up one of the sticks that had fallen from the trees throughout the fall and winter, and broke it in half. He gave the second half to Jaehwan and crouched near one of the muddy sections and began to draw shapes in the bare ground. A heart. Some squiggly lines. A circle, maybe? “Come on.”
Jaehwan crouched next to him, stared at him, and drew a star. Then promptly dropped the stick on the ground and pouted. “I feel like a child.”
“Jaehwan,” Wonsik’s voice took on a parental tone, “you do this for a living.”
“But I use real tools, like pencils and paper-”
“The first artists drew on stone.”
“Now you’re just being argumentative.”
“Look in the mirror before you start pointing fingers,” Wonsik jested, then turned back to his doodles. He filled in the heart with W + J.
Jaehwan let himself lose balance and fell onto his back in disbelief. “You’re so cheesy.”
“You love me,” he chimed.
“I’d love you more if you put my name first,” Jaehwan said as he stood up and brushed the dirt off of himself. Wonsik only turned to face him and stuck out his tongue. He offered his hand to help the other, and as he pulled Wonsik to his feet he saw movement in the corner of his eye. His head immediately snapped in the direction and he saw a young woman bundled up in multiple layers, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. She had a pink leash clutched in a gloved hand, and at the other end of it was a small black and tan shiba inu. He gasped audibly and left Wonsik in the dust. “Can I pet him?” The words tumbled from his mouth, but miraculously the woman still understood him and nodded, smiling.
He crouched down and the dog wagged its curled tail. It got onto its hind legs and placed its front paws on Jaehwan, so small both of them could fit onto one of his knees. Jaehwan took his hand from his pocket and brought it to the shiba’s face, and it sniffed it then licked it once before it continued sniffing the rest of him. Jaehwan scratched it behind the ears, then took his other hand from his pocket and smushed its face. “Who’s a good boy?” he asked in the high-pitched voice one typically used with animals or infants. “You are! You’re a good boy!” The dog’s tail wagged faster and it barked at him. Jaehwan continued petting it, made extra sure to keep at least one hand behind its ears, and it leaned in towards his face and kissed his nose repeatedly. He started giggling, then the dog jumped off his knee and spun in a circle before it wandered off to sniff the edge of the grass.
Wonsik was next to him when he stood up, and he hadn’t even noticed him approach. He had his phone out, and before Jaehwan could ask he said, “You looked really happy.” He turned his phone around so Jaehwan could see. Jaehwan took it from his hand and scrolled through it. He really did look happy, his eyes smiled just as much as his mouth - a sight rarely seen on ordinary occasions. Then he scrolled one image too far, and saw the picture of Wonsik’s heart drawing in the mud.
“You’re such a nerd, you know that,” he chuckled as he shoved the phone back into Wonsik’s hand, the younger stammering as his face flushed.
ii. The warmth that washed over him in the apartment was welcome, and without waiting for Wonsik he hung up his coat and made a beeline for the bedroom. He grabbed the comforter crumpled at the end of the bed and wrapped it around himself. He sighed into the warmth, eyes fluttered shut for a moment then opened again. His mug from earlier in the day still sat on the bedside table, teabag still in it. He hadn’t taken a single sip from it, and it was likely cold and bitter after being ignored for a couple hours.
With the blanket still wrapped around him, he stood up and picked up the mug. He passed Wonsik on the way to the sink. The younger sat on the couch and stared at the TV, but Jaehwan couldn’t tell if he was actually watching - commercials were playing and his steady gaze was blank. Jaehwan didn’t say anything as he threw the tea bag away and dumped out the mug so he could place it upside down in the sink.
He didn’t have any plans for the rest of the afternoon or evening; they’d probably order pizza or something for dinner given that neither of them appeared able to commit to anything. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom and stared into the open space for a moment before the picture frame laying face down on the floor caught his interest from the corner of his eye. They hadn’t put it away before they left and despite the fact that the entire room itself was far from clean, this particular object stuck out like a sore thumb and Jaehwan knew if he didn’t put it back in its box it was going to nag at him.
He leaned down to pick it up and turned it over in his hands. He ghosted his fingers carefully over the lines, making sure not to leave any fingerprints. It was surreal to be looking at it after so long. Sure, he had plenty of pictures on social media, but the sketch he held was one of the only ones that was in motion rather than a selfie. Like a crystallized moment in time.
All the feelings he’d tried to suppress throughout the day suddenly welled up in his chest, and tears spilled from his eyes and onto the glass pane of the picture frame without his permission. His hands started to shake and something clicked differently in his brain for a split second, and in that time he threw the frame against the wall.
It hit the wall with a bang that brought him back into the present and he rushed over to where it had fallen to the floor, the blanket falling off of his shoulders and being left forgotten. He kneeled down and winced (the glass had shattered when it hit the wall), but he ignored it and tried to pick up the frame. One of the corners had come disconnected from itself, and there was a dent in the wall. He couldn’t control his tears before, and he could no longer keep himself from sobbing. Why did he do it? He shouldn’t have picked it up at all. What had he even been looking for in the boxes originally? Why couldn’t he have left the frame where it belonged?
He removed the sketch from the broken frame, and it folded over itself in his hands. He saw, on the back side, some kind of note written on it. It wasn’t his handwriting - he hadn’t even had the time to put his signature on it before he had given it to Hakyeon, since he had considered it unfinished. There was no way anybody but the older had written anything there. He was about halfway through reading it when he realized it wasn’t a note at all, but a poem. One likely found in one of the library books Hakyeon had constantly carried around in his bag. One about heartbreak. Jaehwan’s tears fell onto the page and slightly smudged the old graphite.
“Jaehwan?” Wonsik was in the doorway for less than a second before he saw the other kneeling on the ground and rushed to his side. The first thing he saw was Jaehwan’s hands scratched from the broken glass, and he pulled him into his lap, away from the mess. “What happened here?”
Jaehwan started shaking his head. “What if-,” he wanted to speak but he couldn’t think of the words and he broke into more sobs instead. The only thing he could think about was the question Hakyeon had asked him at the park that day.
Do you like me?
“Do you think if,” it felt as if every time he wiped a tear three more appeared in its place, “do you think if I had said something then it never would have happened? Like, if I had at least-”
Wonsik hushed him. “No one could have known.”
“But if there was the smallest chance,” he choked on his words. He had considered the possibilities countless times in his head, but he’d never spoken any of these thoughts out loud. It had always been much too hard, and he hadn't expected any doctors or police officers to understand anyway. “What if it wasn’t an accident? If I had just answered-”
“Jaehwan,” Wonsik pulled him closer, the older’s head resting on his chest. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but if there was anything I could have done... If anything happened to him...right now I could be older than he got to be and-”
“It’s not your fault,” he repeated. He reached for the blanket on the floor and bundled Jaehwan up in it, and rocked him back and forth. Jaehwan tried to breathe while Wonsik wiped his tears, but it was difficult to fall back into a rhythm. Wonsik began to hum, a soft tune Jaehwan didn’t recognize, and he strained his ears to listen. It was surreal how Wonsik was able to hold him and comfort him while likely feeling the same turmoil Jaehwan was no longer able to contain. He wanted to thank him, but knew if he tried right then he’d be hushed again.
Instead he closed his eyes and focused on the low baritone humming in Wonsik’s chest, finally allowing himself to relax until he nearly drifted off to sleep.
pairing: hakyeon/jaehwan | jaehwan/wonsik
rating: g
word count: 6,014
summary: moving on is a lot more difficult without closure.
a/n: so last month i opened one of my old drafts thinking that i could revamp it and wrap it up but the "last edited" date was january 2016 so i tossed it and started completely from scratch and this is it...hope it worked >_<
❝i'm pedaling backwards,
even if i'm pedaling alone, can't help it,
i relive it, relive it all.❞
- bastille, winter of our youth
I.
i. “Do you like me?”
Jaehwan had often prided himself on his ability to multitask between art and conversation, a chatty quality about him that had the tendency to annoy his classmates, but this question caught him off-guard and caused him to pause mid-stroke, his pencil hovering above the page and threatening to fall from between his fingers. He looked up when he heard the scuff sound of Hakyeon’s shoes scraping against the ground to stop the swing he was on. They were much too old for this playground, Hakyeon’s toes would hit the ground as he swung if he didn’t draw them close enough to his body, but that didn’t stop them from going when they needed a change of scene from the university campus.
The streetlamp Jaehwan crouched under flickered a few times in quick succession then settled with a soft electrical hum. He looked back down at his sketch - his own rendition of Hakyeon on the swings, at the top of the arch with his legs out and the breeze going through his hair - and penciled in a few minor details on the clothing until he noticed a shadow obstructing the light he received from the streetlamp. He stopped what he was doing immediately and pulled the sketchbook to his chest. “No sneak peeks!”
Hakyeon sat on the bench Jaehwan had neglected to use (“It’s too rough!” had been his complaint. “I don’t need splinters up my ass.”) with his elbow propped up by the bench’s armrest rested his face against his hand. “You didn’t answer my question,” he whined with pouty lips. “Do you like me?”
“What do you mean?” Jaehwan chuckled as he asked. Hakyeon cheekily reached for the sketchbook, but Jaehwan only tightened his grip. He knew Hakyeon only meant it as a joke, but his “no peeking” policy wasn’t one - regardless of best friend status. “Of course I like you!” He turned so he was facing Hakyeon and scribbled in some small details before he allowed the older to see. “You’re my favourite subject!”
This clearly wasn’t the answer Hakyeon was looking for because Jaehwan noticed the playful glint in his eyes momentarily disappear, but one look at the sketch had him smiling again. “Can I keep it?” he asked.
Jaehwan bit his lip and hesitated. “I still need to fix some things,” he muttered, but then he saw Hakyeon’s face and his expression could only be described as “puppy dog eyes” and that was enough for him to cave. He folded the page twice over on its perforated edge and took it out at a meticulously slow pace as to not create any tears. “You’d better take good care of it,” he warned.
Hakyeon beamed back at him. “I’m going to frame it,” he promised.
A backpack leaned against Jaehwan and he pulled it in front of himself, unzipped it and put his sketchbook and pencil inside. He threw it over his shoulder as he stood up. He felt a tug and looked over his shoulder just as Hakyeon finished zipping up the bag.
“Everything was going to fall out,” he mumbled, as if Jaehwan would ever chastise him for saving his ass.
Jaehwan smiled at him in return - a smile that even his ears lifted for. “Isn’t that café you like on the way back?” he asked. Hakyeon nodded, but then stammered something about not having money. “It’s okay, I’ll pay.” He didn’t have much more money than Hakyeon, but he didn’t want to go back to the closed quarters of his room just yet. He didn’t hate his roommate - to the contrary, they were friends - it just felt early in the night and he wanted to be able to stretch his legs a little while longer. Hakyeon hesitated for a moment and in that time Jaehwan was afraid he would decline. Instead, he snuggled deeper into his coat and nodded.
The weather hadn’t been particularly great when they originally went out, a grey overcast hung over the sky the entire day, and it started to rain lightly - just enough for misty droplets to get caught in Hakyeon’s hair and on his eyelashes. Jaehwan stared, wondering how he could capture something so delicate with something as sloppy as his pencilwork. No one else would ever call it sloppy in a million years, but after staring at his own work for hours everyday for years it had seemed to lose its charm on him. Hakyeon was oblivious to the staring and kicked a loose pebble on the sidewalk. When they walked within distance again, he kicked it once more.
Hakyeon’s steps picked up once the shop was in view, and he bounded up the two concrete steps to open the door for Jaehwan, the bell tinkling to announce their arrival. They both sighed in relief at the dryness and warmth that surrounded them and Hakyeon unzipped his coat. He stood on his tiptoes to look over the heads of other patrons for a view of the menu, but Jaehwan knew what he was going to order regardless of how long he stared.
“A medium green tea, please?” Jaehwan could practically mouth the words as the older spoke, but he didn’t.
After they ordered and received their drinks (Jaehwan holding a hot chocolate with both of his hands) Jaehwan started looking for a table, but Hakyeon made for the door. “Wait, we’re not staying?”
Hakyeon stopped and turned back to face Jaehwan, his face appearing surprised at the fact that the younger didn’t follow. “I really need to do some studying,” he said meekly, as if he felt guilty for it, “sorry.”
Jaehwan shook his head. “No need to be sorry.” He followed Hakyeon out the door, completely oblivious as it slammed behind them. “Hey,” he nudged the older with his elbow, “after today, it’s Thursday. And then it’s Friday.”
Hakyeon gave a light smile and chuckled, “Yeah, thank god.” The rain started to pick up, and he pulled his hood over his head. “If I have to take one more test I think I’m going to drown in paper.”
Suddenly, Jaehwan’s stomach sank in a panicked realization. “Shit,” he said through gritted teeth, “I have that painting project due Friday. I’ve barely even finished the sketch.” He stopped walking, unsure what to do. The art building was the complete opposite direction from the dorm buildings, but he had spent most of the night avoiding being alone and still wanted to walk with Hakyeon.
“I can walk back on my own if you need to go,” Hakyeon offered. He had turned around once Jaehwan stopped. He was sunken into his jacket as far as he could go to avoid the rain. He may have been shivering, but Jaehwan also could have been imagining it.
“Are you sure?” Jaehwan’s mouth hung open slightly in surprise. They had been going to school together for years, and not once had Hakyeon ever told Jaehwan to let him go by himself. “I can always double back-”
“It’s just one night, Jaehwan.”
Jaehwan sighed, breath fogged in front of his face, and reluctantly complied. They both waved, and he waited until Hakyeon turned around and walked before doing so himself. He couldn’t say “good-bye” or give him a hug like he usually would outside of the residence hall doors - it didn’t feel right - but the absence of such also made it feel incomplete.
ii. The art building closed to student access at two in the morning each night. This meant that with it being quarter to three, Jaehwan couldn’t leave until he was finished or he’d be screwed. Various shades of blue and grey paint covered his hands at different stages of drying, and occasionally he picked up a pencil to get it out from under his nails. Or he’d forgetfully bite his nails and his face would scrunch up in disgust before he cursed himself out loud. He stared at his painting. It was a mess, to say the least. It was supposed to be a still life of some sort, and he had a great picture of some white lilies to base it off of, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t seem to capture the “life” aspect. Everything looked droopy, as if someone had forgotten to water the flowers for a few days. He let out a groan and slumped over in his seat. He wanted nothing more than to start over, but with the project due in barely over six hours it was too late.
His phone buzzed on the table beside him and he glared at it. Who could possibly be trying to contact him at this hour? He tried to ignore it, but it went off again, and reluctantly he flipped it over to see his roommate’s name all over the screen along with a few missed calls.
wonsik:
[02:53] the cops are here asking about hakyeon...what did you do?
Jaehwan first assumed he’d read the message wrong and brought his phone closer to his face, but no matter how much he squinted, the words wouldn’t change. Without thinking he grabbed his open backpack and swung it over his shoulder without zipping it and ran out of the room, phone in hand. He tried to call Wonsik, but the doors that led outside were heavy and he dropped his phone as he ran into them full speed and they didn’t give as easily as he had hoped. He scurried to pick it up, then ran down the sidewalk in the direction of the dorms. It was freezing without the sun up to give whatever measly amount of warmth it could offer, and all he could focus on was the burn of his lungs and the puffs of his breath that formed in front of his face then fell behind him as he ran.
When he got to the doors he doubled over to catch his breath. His hands went into his pockets and he panicked: they were empty. He had left his keycard in the art building. With numb fingers, he unlocked his phone (messing up the numbers a couple times) and called Wonsik. He could still feel his heart beating in his chest from his sprint.
“Where are you?”
“Can you please let me in? I left my wallet in the art building, I don’t have my card,” the words left his mouth in a panicked tumble and he had to take in a breath afterwards.
Wonsik must have noticed because he immediately went softer, “I’ll be right there. Take deep breaths, okay?”
Jaehwan nodded and hung up, not realizing physical gestures didn’t travel over the phone. The wait felt excruciating and his ears had started to burn from the cold. He tapped his toe impatiently, the bounced on the balls of his feet, and was about to begin pacing when the door opened. Usually he would have rushed inside the second he could, but he didn’t expect the police to follow Wonsik downstairs. Cops in movies seemed cool (or simply a pain in the ass, depending on the genre), but seeing them in from of him for the purpose of questioning him specifically was intimidating to say the least and filled him with anxiety. Wonsik grabbed his arm and gently pulled him into the building, steering him to one of the couches in the lounge to sit down.
Hakyeon was reported missing, they said, and Jaehwan was the last known person to have been in contact with him.
The rest of the night was a blur to him. They asked him questions - things about where and when he last saw Hakyeon (the coffee shop that Wednesday evening on the way back from the park), what he’d been wearing (that pink windbreaker and a black t-shirt underneath, black jeans faded from almost constant wear. Jaehwan would’ve shown them the dang sketch if he hadn’t given it away), if he had said anything concerning that night (he could barely remember their conversation but it was completely mundane, no red flags - Hakyeon wasn’t that kind of person), or if he had sent any texts (Jaehwan had texted him later, but he had gotten no response and had suspected it just meant the older had fallen asleep. He showed them the text conversation without hesitation, regretting he didn’t sense anything was wrong ahead of time).
He didn’t remember when they left, but he remembered bursting into tears shortly thereafter and Wonsik taking him into his arms to comfort him. He didn’t need to ask to know Wonsik was just as worried - he could feel the other’s tears despite how hard he was trying to hold them back. He didn’t remember going to bed - or even how he got there -, but he remembered waking up the next morning feeling completely void. He didn’t go to his classes - he never finished his project anyway and there was no need to relive the night. He didn’t do anything, didn’t eat, didn’t drink. He didn’t go out when people outside of his immediate friend circle mentioned there was a party that night. Usually, Wonsik was the kind of roommate who would notice when Jaehwan started to get in a slump. He wasn’t a mother hen, but if Jaehwan wasn’t taking care of himself he would at the very least make an offhanded comment about getting at least one proper meal per day. But Wonsik himself didn’t seem to have much of a drive or appetite, either.
On Saturday, it didn’t seem real to him. He hadn’t heard from or seen any police since that night. Hakyeon’s parents hadn’t said anything to him. He must have dreamt it. There was no other way. He pushed himself out of bed and grabbed a coat. He couldn’t stand sitting still anymore.
He hadn’t been sleeping well at all, and by the time he got out of bed the sun was already setting - which it was prone to do early in the winter months. He got to Hakyeon’s dorm building and waited outside the door (he still hadn’t retrieved his card and even if he had, he wouldn’t be able to swipe into Hakyeon’s building). He had sent a texts saying he was going over, but no response. He had no choice but to call.
He lost track of how many times he tried -
“Hey, it’s Jaehwan. I’m waiting outside. Sorry it’s short notice, you probably didn’t see my texts. But I’m here now. Could you let me in?”
- but each time he did -
“Me again. Sorry. It’s just kind of cold out here and it’d be really nice to see you. Even for just a minute. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you don’t just let me know so I don’t keep standing out here like an idiot. People keep staring at me.”
- he was only greeted with the mechanical monotone of Hakyeon’s answering machine.
“I’m really sorry I’m taking up so much of your time, but it’s really important. It’s been a couple hours now. It’s pretty dark. And cold. I, uh...Well, people are saying things about you being gone and I just really need you to come outside and prove it’s not true. I know I’m a terrible friend and I ask for a lot of favors, it probably feels like at least three a day to you, but please. Just this one thing and I’ll never ask for anything ever again, I -”
He was cut off by a high-pitched beep followed by the words “voice mailbox full.”
It was Wonsik who found him sitting underneath the streetlight, legs drawn up to his chest and his face buried in his arms, one of his hands clutching his cell phone as if it were his lifeline.
II.
i. Jaehwan had grown used to waking up with Wonsik wrapped around his waist. He had also mastered the art of maneuvering himself out of the tangle of limbs so as to not wake the younger. He sat up and stretched, then padded quietly to look out the window. It had snowed a little the night before, but it was nothing a constant flow of city traffic couldn’t handle - it hadn’t even dusted the road. Nevertheless, it looked grey and cold, which was also accurate in describing how Jaehwan felt that morning. Of course it had to be a Saturday. Any other day of the week and he could have worked to distract himself, but instead he was trapped indoors as a prisoner to his thoughts.
He was staring at the taillights of a taxicab when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a head come to rest on his shoulder.
“Come back to bed,” Wonsik mumbled, words barely comprehensible.
Jaehwan didn’t move, transfixed by the frost on the window. “I don’t think I can go back to sleep.”
The neckline of his white t-shirt was loose, stretched by someone or something in a forgotten act of carelessness, and part of his shoulder was exposed. Wonsik placed a light kiss on the bare skin and tightened his arms around Jaehwan as if to pull him closer. “We don’t have to sleep.”
Jaehwan shrugged him off. “I don’t think I can just lay down, either.” He left the bedroom and entered the kitchen, the apartment floor creaking in between rooms. He opened one of the upper cabinets and removed a mug, then hit the “on” button on the electric kettle sitting next to the sink. Then he stared.
“I don’t think there’s any water in there,” Wonsik pointed out as he reached over Jaehwan’s head to close the open cabinet door.
“Oh.” Jaehwan stared, picked up the kettle, then put it back down. Wonsik reached from behind him to pick it up and fill it from the sink. He placed it back and turned it back on, then rummaged through one of the lower cabinets until he found a box of herbal tea, opened one of the bags and placed it in Jaehwan’s mug. The older tried to mumble his thanks, but no sound made it past his lips.
“I’ll be watching TV if you need me,” he offered, giving Jaehwan a light kiss to the cheek before he left to sit on their worn hand-me-down couch.
Jaehwan stared into the bottom of his still empty mug. He didn’t know what time of day it was - late morning? mid-afternoon? - but it wasn’t as if it would have any effect on him. It wasn’t as if he was going to accomplish anything even if it wasn’t the weekend. The kettle screeched at him, and he poured the water into the mug in a stiff, mechanical manner, a little bit spilling onto the counter. He picked up the mug - cradled it in both hands - then took it back to the bedroom with him.
He stood just inside the doorway for a moment, simultaneously staring at the room but also nothing at all. The bed was a mess, the baby blue sheets and comforter tangled together in a heap at its foot, half of the pile hanging off the bed. There were some bright metallic-colored candy wrappers scattered on the floor one Jaehwan’s side, remnants of an immemorable personal celebration. His cell phone was on the nightstand, but it wasn’t plugged in - he must have forgotten the night before. The blue LED blinked at him to signify a missed message. He approached the table slowly as if he wasn’t committed to the action, and he placed his mug of tea (teabag still soaking) next to the phone.
On the same side of the room as the door was their closet, and he opened it. It was a mess - the only reason their bedroom floor was even remotely clean is because all of their junk was crammed into the small space. Clothes laid in piles on the floor despite there being plenty of empty hangers, and underneath these piles were cardboard boxes in various stages of being unpacked from their recent move. He kneeled on the floor and moved clothes out of the way just enough to be able to pry open the boxes and rummage through them. They mostly contained more clothes and old books and DVDs he never had the heart to get rid of despite not touching them in years, but none of that was what he was looking for. He pushed one box to the side and grabbed another, and the vacuum cleaner that had been leaning on the second box fell over with a clatter. He removed a bunch of socks from the box and placed them to the side, mentally noting to put them away in the drawer with all of the others.
“Are you okay?” Wonsik was standing in the bedroom doorway. “I heard some kind of banging.” Jaehwan nodded and made an absent-minded yeah, I’m fine remark that he hardly even realized left his mouth. “Can I help you? What are you looking for-”
They both froze. From the bottom of the box Jaehwan had pulled out a picture frame partially wrapped in paper for protection during the move. He ripped the paper off for a better look and revealed an old drawing - the paper slightly wrinkled from being stuffed in someone’s pocket for a few minutes and it was too small to fit the frame properly, but it was neater than it would have been had it not been framed. It was the sketch from that day in the park three years before - that last afternoon he’d gotten to spend with Hakyeon. Hakyeon had kept good on his word of taking care of it and framed it as he had promised. The older’s parents had given it to Jaehwan a year after he had disappeared, when they couldn’t bear to have it staring at them any longer. It’d been in the bottom of the box ever and there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think about it.
Jaehwan was stuck. He wanted to stuff it back in the box and not look at it again for another few years, but he also wanted to pull the frame close to his chest and never let it go. He had been holding it up far longer than he should have been, and his arms had begun to shake, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of it.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and started, almost dropping the frame. “Hey,” Wonsik spoke softly, “why don’t we go out to the park or something? Get some fresh air?” He gently removed it from Jaehwan’s hands and placed it on the floor next to the box.
Jaehwan gestured to his outfit, the loose white tee and his baggy grey sweatpants. “I’m not dressed to go out.”
“What about that sweater I got for my birthday?” Wonsik suggested, and when Jaehwan was about to protest he added, “I know it’s big for you but that’s what’ll make it cute. Plus it’s cold outside, and it’ll be extra warm.”
“Okay,” Jaehwan finally conceded, and Wonsik left his side to fetch the sweater from the drawer. He tossed it across the room and it landed draped over the older’s head. A pair of jeans followed with a thump at his side. He changed while Wonsik left the room to turn off the TV and get their coats. He didn’t think the sweater was cute (white, blue, and brown zigzag stripes), but it was warm.
He met Wonsik at the door, and the younger smiled. “It’s cute.” Jaehwan zipped up his coat and scowled in return. “What?”
“I could wear a turkey costume and you’d still call it cute.”
Wonsik’s smile dropped. “You don’t like it?”
“It’s warm.”
Wonsik stopped egging him and opened the door, waiting for Jaehwan to leave first before he followed and locked it behind them.
The second they descended the stairs and exited the doors of the apartment complex, Jaehwan regretted ever letting Wonsik convince him to leave the room. “It’s so cold,” he whined, extending the “o” in “coooooooold” in order to emphasize his misery. Wonsik ignored him and linked their arms to pull Jaehwan closer. He huffed. Outside the city looked just as miserable as it had from inside, and he was certain when they got to the park it would be deserted and lifeless. It was too cold for him to keep his hands out of his jacket pockets, there was no way anything could grow there.
And he was right, for the most part. Standing at the street corner waiting for the light to tell them it was safe to walk he could peer over the traffic and see no one occupying any of the benches. If Wonsik sensed his contempt, he said nothing about it and simply marched on with Jaehwan still attached to his arm when the light changed. He almost seemed determined.
“Isn’t it nice?” he asked.
It was absolutely dreadful. There were no flowers in the flowerbeds, the trees were bare, the grass was brown and droopy and full of mud spots where nothing would grow back for months. There were no birds singing and no children screaming on the playground while their parents yelled words of caution a little too late as someone inevitably fell and scraped their knees.
“It’s empty,” was all Jaehwan could muster.
He could see the disappointment begin to show on Wonsik’s face and he felt guilty. He hated being like this. He desperately wanted to smile and laugh for him, but his mind wouldn’t get let him do anything but relive the events of three years ago. Three years to the day. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he’d first woken up and seen the date. And he had been dreading the day for weeks. But seeing it coming in advance had never been able to prepare him for the impact, especially not at the speed time chugged along.
“More room for us,” Wonsik replied. “Come here.” He beckoned for Jaehwan to follow him into one of the grassy areas and picked up one of the sticks that had fallen from the trees throughout the fall and winter, and broke it in half. He gave the second half to Jaehwan and crouched near one of the muddy sections and began to draw shapes in the bare ground. A heart. Some squiggly lines. A circle, maybe? “Come on.”
Jaehwan crouched next to him, stared at him, and drew a star. Then promptly dropped the stick on the ground and pouted. “I feel like a child.”
“Jaehwan,” Wonsik’s voice took on a parental tone, “you do this for a living.”
“But I use real tools, like pencils and paper-”
“The first artists drew on stone.”
“Now you’re just being argumentative.”
“Look in the mirror before you start pointing fingers,” Wonsik jested, then turned back to his doodles. He filled in the heart with W + J.
Jaehwan let himself lose balance and fell onto his back in disbelief. “You’re so cheesy.”
“You love me,” he chimed.
“I’d love you more if you put my name first,” Jaehwan said as he stood up and brushed the dirt off of himself. Wonsik only turned to face him and stuck out his tongue. He offered his hand to help the other, and as he pulled Wonsik to his feet he saw movement in the corner of his eye. His head immediately snapped in the direction and he saw a young woman bundled up in multiple layers, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. She had a pink leash clutched in a gloved hand, and at the other end of it was a small black and tan shiba inu. He gasped audibly and left Wonsik in the dust. “Can I pet him?” The words tumbled from his mouth, but miraculously the woman still understood him and nodded, smiling.
He crouched down and the dog wagged its curled tail. It got onto its hind legs and placed its front paws on Jaehwan, so small both of them could fit onto one of his knees. Jaehwan took his hand from his pocket and brought it to the shiba’s face, and it sniffed it then licked it once before it continued sniffing the rest of him. Jaehwan scratched it behind the ears, then took his other hand from his pocket and smushed its face. “Who’s a good boy?” he asked in the high-pitched voice one typically used with animals or infants. “You are! You’re a good boy!” The dog’s tail wagged faster and it barked at him. Jaehwan continued petting it, made extra sure to keep at least one hand behind its ears, and it leaned in towards his face and kissed his nose repeatedly. He started giggling, then the dog jumped off his knee and spun in a circle before it wandered off to sniff the edge of the grass.
Wonsik was next to him when he stood up, and he hadn’t even noticed him approach. He had his phone out, and before Jaehwan could ask he said, “You looked really happy.” He turned his phone around so Jaehwan could see. Jaehwan took it from his hand and scrolled through it. He really did look happy, his eyes smiled just as much as his mouth - a sight rarely seen on ordinary occasions. Then he scrolled one image too far, and saw the picture of Wonsik’s heart drawing in the mud.
“You’re such a nerd, you know that,” he chuckled as he shoved the phone back into Wonsik’s hand, the younger stammering as his face flushed.
ii. The warmth that washed over him in the apartment was welcome, and without waiting for Wonsik he hung up his coat and made a beeline for the bedroom. He grabbed the comforter crumpled at the end of the bed and wrapped it around himself. He sighed into the warmth, eyes fluttered shut for a moment then opened again. His mug from earlier in the day still sat on the bedside table, teabag still in it. He hadn’t taken a single sip from it, and it was likely cold and bitter after being ignored for a couple hours.
With the blanket still wrapped around him, he stood up and picked up the mug. He passed Wonsik on the way to the sink. The younger sat on the couch and stared at the TV, but Jaehwan couldn’t tell if he was actually watching - commercials were playing and his steady gaze was blank. Jaehwan didn’t say anything as he threw the tea bag away and dumped out the mug so he could place it upside down in the sink.
He didn’t have any plans for the rest of the afternoon or evening; they’d probably order pizza or something for dinner given that neither of them appeared able to commit to anything. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom and stared into the open space for a moment before the picture frame laying face down on the floor caught his interest from the corner of his eye. They hadn’t put it away before they left and despite the fact that the entire room itself was far from clean, this particular object stuck out like a sore thumb and Jaehwan knew if he didn’t put it back in its box it was going to nag at him.
He leaned down to pick it up and turned it over in his hands. He ghosted his fingers carefully over the lines, making sure not to leave any fingerprints. It was surreal to be looking at it after so long. Sure, he had plenty of pictures on social media, but the sketch he held was one of the only ones that was in motion rather than a selfie. Like a crystallized moment in time.
All the feelings he’d tried to suppress throughout the day suddenly welled up in his chest, and tears spilled from his eyes and onto the glass pane of the picture frame without his permission. His hands started to shake and something clicked differently in his brain for a split second, and in that time he threw the frame against the wall.
It hit the wall with a bang that brought him back into the present and he rushed over to where it had fallen to the floor, the blanket falling off of his shoulders and being left forgotten. He kneeled down and winced (the glass had shattered when it hit the wall), but he ignored it and tried to pick up the frame. One of the corners had come disconnected from itself, and there was a dent in the wall. He couldn’t control his tears before, and he could no longer keep himself from sobbing. Why did he do it? He shouldn’t have picked it up at all. What had he even been looking for in the boxes originally? Why couldn’t he have left the frame where it belonged?
He removed the sketch from the broken frame, and it folded over itself in his hands. He saw, on the back side, some kind of note written on it. It wasn’t his handwriting - he hadn’t even had the time to put his signature on it before he had given it to Hakyeon, since he had considered it unfinished. There was no way anybody but the older had written anything there. He was about halfway through reading it when he realized it wasn’t a note at all, but a poem. One likely found in one of the library books Hakyeon had constantly carried around in his bag. One about heartbreak. Jaehwan’s tears fell onto the page and slightly smudged the old graphite.
“Jaehwan?” Wonsik was in the doorway for less than a second before he saw the other kneeling on the ground and rushed to his side. The first thing he saw was Jaehwan’s hands scratched from the broken glass, and he pulled him into his lap, away from the mess. “What happened here?”
Jaehwan started shaking his head. “What if-,” he wanted to speak but he couldn’t think of the words and he broke into more sobs instead. The only thing he could think about was the question Hakyeon had asked him at the park that day.
Do you like me?
“Do you think if,” it felt as if every time he wiped a tear three more appeared in its place, “do you think if I had said something then it never would have happened? Like, if I had at least-”
Wonsik hushed him. “No one could have known.”
“But if there was the smallest chance,” he choked on his words. He had considered the possibilities countless times in his head, but he’d never spoken any of these thoughts out loud. It had always been much too hard, and he hadn't expected any doctors or police officers to understand anyway. “What if it wasn’t an accident? If I had just answered-”
“Jaehwan,” Wonsik pulled him closer, the older’s head resting on his chest. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but if there was anything I could have done... If anything happened to him...right now I could be older than he got to be and-”
“It’s not your fault,” he repeated. He reached for the blanket on the floor and bundled Jaehwan up in it, and rocked him back and forth. Jaehwan tried to breathe while Wonsik wiped his tears, but it was difficult to fall back into a rhythm. Wonsik began to hum, a soft tune Jaehwan didn’t recognize, and he strained his ears to listen. It was surreal how Wonsik was able to hold him and comfort him while likely feeling the same turmoil Jaehwan was no longer able to contain. He wanted to thank him, but knew if he tried right then he’d be hushed again.
Instead he closed his eyes and focused on the low baritone humming in Wonsik’s chest, finally allowing himself to relax until he nearly drifted off to sleep.