Archive of Our Own

12:11

death calls when jae’s in the middle of hanging up christmas lights, the wires tangled around his long limbs as he attempts to wring them around the relatively small christmas tree hoarding quite a good space in the living room of his three-room apartment. the blaring horn ringtone, instead of the usual tinkling ringtone set on jae’s phone, reverberates throughout the house. upon hearing the sound, jae freezes. his eyes dart to the cell phone, having been thrown carelessly onto the couch about an hour or so ago.

outside, somewhere beyond there, christmas carols can be heard as people rejoice in their annual festivities. somewhere beyond there, someone is wasting his life away chugging down beer and the like, whilst jae stands here, rooted to the ground, too scared to answer the call.

the ringing stops, and jae has time to gather his breath momentarily before the ringing starts up again. it might just be his imagination, but the ringing is more insistent, louder this time around.

gathering up his courage, jae shakes the fairy lights off of his legs and stumbles over the carpet to make a grab for his phone. splayed across the phone screen is the word DEATH-CAST in capital letters. gulping down his nerves, jae presses answer call.

there’s a crack of static on the other line before a smooth, velvety voice speaks into the phone. “lee soongyoon?”

a wave of nauseous relief washes over jae as he tries to regain his composure. not you. not dead. yet . “um. this isn’t him. i’m park jaehyung-”

“-ah, yeah,” the voice booms into the line. “sorry, my bad. just got off the phone with him. park jaehyung?”

fuck . the plans of spending christmas alone just took a turn for the worst; a downhill landslide, rushing down the slope - a never-ending run. you just can’t escape it.

“speaking,” jae swallows. his gut twists here and there. the urge to retch up his microwaved lasagna from a mere few hours ago builds up with every passing second as jae clutches onto the phone, the grip on the device turning his knuckles white. his legs give way as he seats himself down onto the worn-out couch. “h-hey?”

“hey, jae. name’s hongjae. on behalf of DEATH-CAST, we are sorry to inform you that sometime within the next twelve hours, you will meet death and there isn’t anything you can change about your fate.” fate? jae almost snorts aloud. more like impending doom. the greatest catastrophe of the century. he wants to spit back a snarky comment, but his throat refuses to do so, instead constricting around the sarcastic words. the lump forming in his windpipe clogs up all the words he wants to bite back at this guy. “jae? you with me dude?”

jae shakes his head slightly, but still forces out a weak “yeah… yeah, i’m with you.”

“breathe, jae, you’re not dying yet.” and that’s the lamest joke he’s ever fucking heard, and now jae wants to sue this gimmick of a company who warns - no, announces about their oncoming deaths and makes a joke out of it. just as hongjae’s delving into the topic of gravestones and funerals and whatnot, jae huffs, hanging up and flinging his phone onto the couch. he sinks deeper into the fabric, trying to muffle out the screams from the inside of his body.

the fairy lights strung hopelessly on the christmas tree blink at him.

— 

12:36

brian’s kind of in the middle of beating up his ex’s new boy toy when his phone blares out that doomed ringtone. leaning against the wall is kim wonpil, loyal sidekick since god knows when (since college, but face it, it’s been a hell long of a time), who freezes in the middle of lighting his cigarette. “bri-”

“-look, pil, i’ll answer it later,” brian hisses as he grabs a fistful of the guy’s shirt and landing another punch near the eye socket. he’s nice in the sense that he’ll let the dude live with sight. minjoon and his (still annoyingly, irritatingly) handsome face tries to force a smirk up at brian, before he slumps down onto the gravel ground of the alleyway. god knows why sungjin even dated him to begin with, after having dumped brian and his sorry heart and sorry self.

“you should get that, babe ,” minjoon even has the audacity to spit out. fuelled with anger again, brian swings a punch on the dude’s cheek. watching the scene from afar, wonpil jams the cigarette in between his teeth, humming to a song brian’s never heard of.

wonpil strides over. “check his pockets.” and brian does, because god knows if the guy carries a pocket knife around with him, ready to slash at brian, but the guy’s a wimp, having asked for an alley fight at this time of the day with no weapons on him. at least the guy wasn’t a coward to have declared the fight and not shown up; brian really needed to vent out his anger on the other. once the coast is clear, wonpil adds, “your phone’s still ringing.”

sighing, brian jerks his chin in the direction of minjoon, who’s clutching his cheek while rolling on the floor now. “take care of him for me, pil,” he asks, to which wonpil does a mock salute, grinning. but even his smile is sad, knowing the defined sound of that ringtone buzzing from his jean pocket.

brian turns out of the alley and into another, this one beside a grocery store, before pulling his phone out of his pocket. DEATH-CAST. “shit,” brian breathes, and for the first time today, he’s terrified out of his wits. he wasn’t scared when he agreed to the alley fight, wasn’t scared when he landed the first punch, wasn’t scared when minjoon cornered him.

but now he’s scared.

twenty-five, balancing part-time jobs, broken-hearted brian thinks he’s too young to die. but clearly the caller begs to differ, so brian bites down on his bloodied lower lip before finally answering the call. “hello?”

there’s a muffled sigh on the other line. “brian kang?”

“this is him.” brian refrains himself from throwing his cell phone onto the cobblestone walkway and smashing it into a million pieces; he’s hot-headed, but he clearly needs to take this call. “who’s speaking?”

“hi brian. i’m jae joon, from DEATH-CAST. on behalf of DEATH-CAST, we are sorry to inform you that sometime within the next twelve hours, you will meet death and there isn’t anything you can change about your fate.” the statement is monotonous, devoid of emotion, as if letting people know they’re going to fucking die and in a nameless manner is a normal, civil, everyday thing to do. the grip on his phone tightens. “so, i suggest within the following few hours you settle your funeral plannings, say bye to your loved ones, and whatnot-”

“-look here, jae joon,” brian breathes harshly into the receiver. “i’m not in the right state of mind right now, so please tell me this is a fucking joke to you.”

there’s an audible sigh, and now brian wants to punch the wall. fuck this shit. “no, this is not a joke. i am sorry for letting you down but-”

“-sorry? you’re sorry ? you don’t sound fucking sorry to me, jae joon,” brian hisses. his anger boils deep in his gut, his mind swirling. “you don’t call me up and tell me i’m gonna be a dead piece of shit and tell me there’s nothing i can do to change my fate while sounding like you’re going for a christmas party and sexing up some bartenders for the next couple hours. if you want to tell me i’m going to be dead, at least sound like you mean it.”

silence fills the line, save for the typing on a keyboard from the other line. “i’m sorry, brian. um. anyhow, have a merry christmas-”

holy fucking shit , brian wants to scream from frustration as he finally hangs up. he shoves the phone into his pocket, his hands curled into fists. but he doesn’t want to die just yet, doesn’t want to die from punching the wall relentlessly before he can at least treat wonpil to his favourite maple syrup waffles, so he jams his hand into his back pocket, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and lighter.

if he’s going to die tonight, he might as well die from lung cancer than listening to people telling him they’re fucking fake sorry.

— 

13:19

park jaehyung cannot believe his fucking luck at life.

to say he’s in a full-blown panic is a sheer understatement. he scours his house, turning it upside down as he readies himself to steer away and out of this hellhole of a house; he is not going to die within the next twenty-four hours holed up in his room typing away at his laptop for work purposes. he’s already called his manager, and left a message in the voice box. now, he’s combing through drawers for his favourite sweatshirt, thrashing at the folded clothes in despair.

the reality hasn’t hit him fully, and when it does, it’s as if someone tears his heart out and stomps all over it. jae lets out a sound, a sort of a gasp and a cough and a sob all together as he slumps down against the pine chest of drawers. the tears he’s been holding back for what seems like forever now flow down his cheeks, dripping off of his chin and plopping onto the carpeted floor.

you’re going to die.

strangely, it doesn’t hurt - it’s numbing, really. his head hasn’t seemed to register anything just yet, the way his mind swirls and swirls, pushing and pulling like strong currents at sea. he curls his hands into fists and wills himself to yank out the faded spiderman sweatshirt, the present from his dad back when he first started off in college.

(“i know, i know you’ve gone to the cinema to catch the movie, like, at least half a dozen times by now, so here you go,” his dad had had the widest grin across his face, beaming as jae’s eyes had turned as wide as saucers. he had turned the fabric around in his hands, his cheeks flushed pink in delight.

he’d hugged his dad so tight around his waist, and his mum had snapped a not-so-discreet photo of them. it’s still in jae’s photo gallery, even after all these years. it hurts more now than it ever has.)

frustrated, he flings the sweatshirt into the satchel bag, near his socked feet. his chest burns as he wipes the hot tears away. he trains his focus on twisting open the soup can, stowed away in the last drawer, and pulling his savings out. what was he saving up for, anyway? the thought of death in only a matter of hours suddenly makes the dollar bills in his hand as worthless as a pile of dust gathering in the corner of his room.

he stuffs the dollar bills back into the can, before shoving it amongst the contents of his bag. he ransacks his cupboards, all mostly empty because today’s supposed to be his groceries day. he makes a mental note to stop by the convenience store before taking off.

taking off to where, however, is the question.

blood rushes to his head as jae hastily heaves the bag up, adjusting the strap on his shoulder, before flicking the lights and heating off. grabs his winter coat by the hook near the door. leaves several hundred dollars in an envelope in the slit of his front doorway for the utilities bill; some extra for seoyeon, the kindest landlord to exist.

twists the key in the lock for the last time in his life.

the elevator is slow, creaky as the doors slide open and jae walks across the front lobby, shooting the clerk a strained smile. he darts out of the apartment, breathes in the fresh wintry afternoon air. he hadn’t noticed earlier from his window, the flurry of snow falling all around him. several children bound ahead of their parents, down the sidewalks. teens walk in groups as they laugh over jokes and bottles of soju in their hands (it’s not even 3PM yet!) jae takes it all in, breathes it all in, for perhaps the last time to exist.

the convenience store is only a stone’s throw away, and within minutes jae’s shoving the door open. the silver bells hung overhead signal his arrival. he shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat as he scans the aisles for snacks to stock up on, to survive on for the next couple of hours leading up to his imminent death. as he strolls along the shelves, he picks off some cup ramen, an onigiri, a bottle of pink soda.

he’s just about to close the door of the fridge when a hand reaches out to take it. “sorry, you can leave it open,” someone says gruffly. surprised, jae glimpses to his left to catch a man, probably not any older than jae, slide the fridge door back open. with all his food in his hands, jae not-so-discreetly stares at the man as he reaches down for a bottle of iced water. his cheek is bruised, and there’s a cut near the corner of his lips. he looks like he’s just been in a brawl.

when jae does let his eyes leave the man, he catches another, slightly younger-looking person behind him, his doe eyes wide. “brian, tell me, what was the call about?” he half-whines, half-insists.

brian?

when brian glances upwards, he notices the other guy still looking at him, perhaps out of shock, judging from his face. ignoring wonpil, he squints at the guy. the other has a maroon knit beanie jammed on top of his black hair, long tendrils of it falling past his eyebrows. his eyes are comically wide behind those rose gold-rimmed glasses. “do i know you?” he spits.

jae blinkblinkblinks, half out of habit, half out of complete and utter shock. “brian? brian kang?”

now it’s brian’s turn to be taken aback. he furrows his eyebrows together. “how do you know my full name-”

“-your full name is brian kang younghyun,” jae cuts in. the words are out, spilled past his lips, and brian’s fox eyes widen by a fraction (he’s learnt how to contain his surprise after all these years, but even he’s beginning to wonder if all this is simply a figment of his imagination, a hallucination). “we were best friends back in high school. and then you left for toronto.”

the remembrance of a stark, lanky boy with a bird’s nest of hair and awkward long limbs comes to mind, and brian parts his lips, stunned. “ jae ? jae park?”

the grip on the bottle tightens. he remembers. “yeah.” jae’s heart is hammering against his chest, the organ twisting and turning under the ribcage. “yeah. jae park. it’s… hey.”

“hey,” brian breathes. but how in the world is this the park jaehyung, the best friend slash ultimate crush to end all crushes he’s ever had in his life? (objectively speaking, not many, but that’s beside the point) seventeen-year-old, awkward, face-too-small, bones-too-big jae has given way to twenty-six-year-old, sharp, angular-faced, full-lipped, grinning jae with a waaayy nicer haircut and fashion sense. “wow. you look… different.”

the tips of his ears flush red. “you… you too.” but maybe that has to do with the fact that sixteen-year-old, ultimate teacher’s pet with his fox eyes, lithe-figured brian has given way to twenty-five-year-old, broad, badass-looking brian with the whole leather-jacket (in winter, too) and i-just-got-into-a-fight look on brian. where have all the years gone?

behind them, wonpil coughs into his fist, breaking the tension momentarily. “uh, brian? i’ll head outside first? i’ll leave you two to… catch up.” the pair of them watch as he meekly darts out of the store, before jae’s gaze lands back on brian again.

“where have you been-”

“-all these years?” brian chuckles, then winces because the corner of his lip throbs with pain. “well… i was toronto till i turned twenty. came back for uni, and, well, here i am.”

“oh.” jae nods towards the signs of a fight. “what happened there?”

brian scratches the nape of his neck. “got into a fight with someone,” he sheepishly replies.

jae’s startled. “what happened to the whole ‘i’m a lover, not a fighter’ persona of yours, bri?” jae teases, and suddenly it’s like old times, the two of them always knocking it off, grinning and shoving potato crisps down each other’s throats as they try to beat each other consistently at mario kart. the days have given way to this boy before him, broad-shouldered, quick-witted brian kang. it scares jae sometimes, the part wherein all those years without him have gone in a blink of an eye.

it scares jae, now, seeing him, on the day that he dies.

“people change, jae,” brian chuckles. he begins to stride up to the counter, with jae in suit. “where do you live?”

“well, about five minutes away from here? soul apartments?” jae replies, but his replies are questions, and brian has to smile fondly because that’s so park jaehyung , the best friend he fell in love with all those years ago. sometimes, it’s tough letting go of those you knew so well and cared for so well. absence makes the heart grow fonder, and seeing jae now, right now, in the flesh, makes something blossom in brian’s chest. “you? why have i not seen you around before?"

brian sets the bottle down onto the counter for the cashier to scan it. “i actually just moved here half a year ago. technically, not even here - i live about an hour away from here in seoul. i was here for the, uh.” he coughs awkwardly. “the fight?”

jae nods his head, not wanting to delve into the details of the fight. instead, he places his things down onto the counter before the cashier. as he digs around for the soup can, brian’s eyes narrow in on the satchel bag bulging with clothes and the like. “going somewhere?”

jae freezes. is he supposed to tell him he’s received the most infamous call of his life declaring his death in a mere few hours? he racks his brain for an answer for a moment. then he decides against it - this is understanding, caring brian kang. there’s no need for lies. “well… i’m dying today.”

even the cashier looks up for a moment from the scanner. jae dares himself to stare straight at brian, but not even an ounce of pity lays in those sharp features. instead, a shy smile plasters itself on his lips. “hey… same here. i guess we relate even after all these years, huh?”

beep, beep.

the cashier pushes the bottle of iced water across the countertop. jae and brian break eye contact to cast their gazes at the poor boy. “um. it’s a dollar, but i’m so sorry to hear that… you’re…. yeah. it’s on the house,” he whispers quietly, so quietly brian has to crane his neck to hear him. he peers at the name emblazoned across his tag on his work shirt.

brian offers a grateful grin. “thanks, dowoon.” he raises a fist, and there’s a casual fist bump, nothing too extraordinary, but he’s got to leave his mark somewhere on someone in this world before he dies today. “i’ll see ya around.” the implication of his words makes dowoon’s cheeks burn aflame in red as he picks up the scanner, retrieving jae’s items.

dowoon glances at jae, and there’s something wild in his eyes. not of pity, but of… admiration of some sort. as if he sees jae, dying-in-twenty-four-hours jae, composed and calm despite everything else. he lowers his head respectfully. “you too. on the house.”

jae can’t object, not when dowoon’s ears are so red they rival the ketchup bottles on display by the side of the convenience store. he grins lazily at dowoon, ruffles his hair. “i won’t forget ya, little one,” he finishes with a flourish and a wink, before shoving the items into his satchel bag. with that, he turns to face brian, eyes glimmering.

“so what do you have planned today?”

— 

13:59

“wonpil, please be reasonable-”

“-i am being reasonable!” wonpil cries out, so loudly brian knows several passers-by are peeking into the alleyway brian’s dragged the other into a while ago, leaving jae outside idly with a hasty i’ll be right back . “you’re dying , brian. am i not supposed to see you out? am i not supposed to be the best friend, your sidekick? or is it because you see someone who’s dying on the same day as you, and you decide to dit-”

“-wonpil!” brian grabs his friend by his shoulders, yet the guilt begins to eat him up. whole. he watches wonpil’s glassy eyes, his cheeks flushed, lips forced together into a straight line to prevent to tears threatening to fall. he softens under brian’s grip.

for a moment, all there is in the moment is wonpil and his shaking shoulders as he throws his arms around brian. the embrace is tight, and for a second brian is reminded of warm hugs from his mother, solid pats on the back from his father. maybe that’s what drew brian so close to the other back in the old university days, the way the other’s smile reminded him so much of home. here, wonpil pulls back to look at brian square in the eye, his lips quivering as they part. “i’m sorry. it’s your… last day. you call the shots, okay? you always call the shots, kang brian.”

and perhaps a part of brian’s heart shatters a bit more, watching wonpil and his dejected expression, his too-good-for-anyone personality alight and burning. brian strokes his friend’s hair. the stink of the rubbish bins nearby puts a damper on the somewhat sentimental seconds, but brian ignores them as he whispers, “i’m a ticking time bomb, wonpil. as much as a good friend you are, i don’t want you to put yourself through watching me dying and not being able to do anything. if i know you well enough, you’ll only blame yourself forever.”

a soft smile frames wonpil’s face. “true. i hate that you’re always right,” he pouts, and it’s too fucking adorable that brian bursts out into a fit of chuckles.

“what you’ll do is go home right this instance, turn on my favourite tv show of all fucking time. remember me.” the words are slow, soft; he takes all the time in the world to whisper them. he reaches out a pinkie. wonpil’s pinkie intertwines with it, then their thumbs touch. “remember us,” they both echo.

it’s a quiet moment, watching wonpil give him one last gummy smile, before trudging out of the damp, dark alleyway first, watching the back of the best friend who’s seen him through his first relationship, his first heartbreak, his first fight, has always been there for him. but. just this once.

just this once.

— 

14:16

jae keeps shooting uneasy sideways glances at brian, it’s become uncomfortable, so he decides to take matters into his own hands. he halts in his footsteps, turns to face jae. his cheeks are a tint of pink from the cold, his scarf covering almost half of his face. “jae, why do you keep looking at me like i’m going to explode into a gazillion pieces?” brian asks.

as if on reflex, jae turns away bashfully, his eyes landing on the shop windows as he, too, stops walking. “just. why did you ditch wonpil?”

“i beg your pardon?”

when jae looks back at brian, his left eyes twitches, just like it always has ever since they were kids. god, they were kids when they met. brian can’t imagine all those years that have flown by ever since he’d laid his eyes on jae. even after searching for his various social media platforms, even after combing through telephone book after telephone book, nothing has led him back to the boy who really made him feel like he belonged somewhere. “wonpil. isn’t he your… boyfriend or something?” jae winces slightly at the words, as if he himself is too embarrassed to say it aloud.

brian laughs dryly. “ god , no. he’s a good friend, but… i can’t bear to see him see me die. you get me? he’d… he’d blame himself for seeing me die and not doing anything about it.” he nods his head slowly, as if drinking in his own words.

“why me, then?”

brian purses his lips together. “well. we’re both dying. does that make a difference?” the way he says is it flat, monotonous. a matter of fact. 

“touche,” jae responds, and then the two of them are strolling along the icy paths once again. cars whiz by on the roads, the sound of the engines ripping through the rustling naked branches atop trees flanking either side of the road. several eyes watch the pair as people stroll by, particularly brian, whose bruise is positively bluish-black now, despite the cold surface of the bottle of water pressed against it. “have you ever thought about what you wanna do before you die?"

“plenty of times,” brian hums. “didn’t expect myself to die on christmas eve of all days, though,” he adds, musing over the thought. a snowflake lands right on the tip of his strong nose, and jae laughs as he flicks it away. “have you thought of what you wanna do before you die?”

“admittedly. no,” jae scratches the nape of his neck. “what’s on your agenda for the day?”

“why would you want to know?”

jae shrugs. “well. i’m with you now, aren’t i? or am i supposed to part ways with you and carry on with my last day dying alone?” they pause at the crosswalk, the stoplight red. jae stands in front brian, their eyes locked. snowflakes flutter down more insistently now, the white crystals settling atop jae’s beanie. brian has the sudden urge to brush the snowflakes off of the fabric.

someone jostles brian. the stoplight turns orange.

“well, then. i can’t say no to you, can i?”

green.

— 

15:01

they turn a sharp corner, and jae trips over his own footing. they’ve been walking for some time now, past shops and cafes and restaurants lining the sidewalks, past windows with promotional banners and mannequins decked out in ugly christmas sweaters. when they’d passed by a particularly hilarious one with christmas lights that actually lit up when you pressed the nose of the knitted reindeer, brian had pointed it out and chuckled.

(“we could, like, buy matching christmas sweaters,” he’d half-joked, but that means he was half-serious about it, too. jae had kept quiet, watching the other’s lost expression, before pulling him along.)

after a few minutes of quietness, brian jerks a thumb at one of the cafes with a sign overhead, squeaking as the biting cold wind sweeps past it. puzzled as to why brian’s places to go before i die places includes this random coffeehouse, jae follows brian in.

it takes some time for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. the room is unlit, save for the fairy lights decked out on the walls, across the ceiling in criss-crosses above their heads. when jae scans the crowds, he realises then and there the many groups of patrons huddled around scrubbed mahogany wood tables. they’re not working adults, nor or they senior citizens. adolescents linger around, sipping on hot chocolate or the like. jae’s pretty sure someone’s smoking in the corner, and the boy looks hardly a day past eighteen.

the pair of them are odd foreigners in a land somewhat forbidden to them the second they’d stepped out of high school.

the eyes on them are judgemental. jae flushes pink under his scarf. why did brian bring him here for? he pinches the sleeve of brian’s leather jacket and drags him into a darker corner of the shop, several pairs of eyes still on them in suspicion. “brian. this is the place you want to go before you die?”

“mhm,” brian grins, and it’s the kind of winning grin that hasn’t changed after so many years, and it makes jae’s gut twist unnaturally, like a monstrous beast switching the gears in his organs. “wait here.”

jae watches brian saunter up to the counter, where there’s a lady, probably as young as the other patrons, sitting there and staring up at the tv flickering away with christmas specials. he cranes his neck to try and listen in on their conversation, but the words are hushed. to his surprise, he watches the lady perk up at the sight of brian, and a several seconds later, she heaves an acoustic guitar over the counter. jae’s heard of elaborate coffee drinks, but never has he heard of a coffeehouse selling guitars.

when brian shuffles back, his grin is only wider. “c’mon.” he ushers jae to the side of the coffeehouse, near the windows. unbeknownst to him earlier, two chairs have been set up, facing the patrons of the shop. alarmed, jae snaps his head towards the direction of brian, who’s already plugging in the amp cord.

“brian? why are we here? what’s with the guitar?” a million questions gather in jae’s head, none of them answered as brian fixes the amp cord in. at last, he looks up at jae from where he’s kneeling on the floor next to the amp; his hair falling past his eyes, those fox eyes glimmering with a sort of mischief, the kind they held back in high school, when the pair of them pulled the fire drill to escape from jae’s whines over his calculus test. “brian?”

“look around you. tell me what you see,” brian shoots back, before returning his attention to tuning the guitar. as corny and cheesy as it sounds, jae lets his eyes skim through the crowds, searching for what brian’s pointing out.

and then he sees this: he sees teenagers, with their coffee mugs on their tables and their phones in their hands and their eyes on their screen. the minimal chatter arises from a pair near the corner of the shop, but beside that and the soft jazz music streaming from the overhead speakers, there is nothing else but silence. jae shakes his hand in resignation. where have all the christmas eve festivities gone? is this the age jae is going to leave behind?

when he looks back at brian, he’s placing the guitar on his lap, settled onto one of the chairs. “you still sing, right?” his old friend asks quizzically. upon the question, jae blushes a little as he lowers the scarf. he yanks it down below his chin, letting it wrap lightly his shoulders instead.

“well… not really. i’m a writer for a photography blog, so i… i hardly venture into music anymore,” he responds sheepishly. bemused, brian raises his eyebrows.

“you didn’t major it in college?” brian asks, to which he receives a shake of the other’s head. “well… i bet you still sing in the showers-”

“-how would you know that?-”

“-friday game nights, remember? i never told you, but my bathroom walls weren’t soundproof,” he adds, which makes jae burst into giggles at the memory of him bursting into sing-song, hot water rushing down his skin as he sang to whatever song he had in mind whenever he slept over at brian’s. “anyways… what do you wanna sing?"

the other shoots a skeptical look at the bored cashier, who’s flicking through something on her phone at the moment. “you sure she doesn’t mind?”

“nah,” brian replies bluntly. “i play here every week. the regular folks know me.”

with some hesitance in his movements, jae shuffles over to sink himself down on the other chair. brian passes a mic over to jae, and their legs get tangled in the wires. they laugh for a while, which attracts some attention from a group of high school girls seated nearby. at the sight of the both of them, they immediately keep their eyes from their screens, whispering behind their phones about who they are, how hot brian is, how cute jae is in that scarf. jae catches a few words and blushes harder. brian simply chuckles as the colour fills the other’s cheeks.

he strums the guitar. jae looks over at brian, mouths what song?

our state anthem?

of course you would say that , jae thinks to himself as brian picks at the strings. his fingers are calloused, knuckles bruised from the fight earlier, but if it hurts, brian doesn’t show it - he expertly strums the chords, despite messing up on one of them, but even after all these years he still remembers the chords, the lyrics, jae’s voice. (he hasn’t played it since he’d left for toronto - couldn’t play it without jae’s voice by his side.)

his nerves gather up, so jae tries to breathe deeper, inhales a little more as he brings the mic to his chapped lips.

sunday morning, rain is falling

steal some covers, share some skin

clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable

you twist to fit the mold that i am in

his voice is even rawer, realer than brian last remembered it. it’s undeniably sexy even, how his voice gets caught on a few syllables. brian tries not to let his beast of a heart beat too hard against his chest, but playing this song again after all these years drives him crazy. crazy that he found jae today out of all days, in this song right here. right now.

but things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do

and i would gladly hit the road, get up and go if i knew

that someday it would lead me back to you

that someday it would lead me back to you

the irony of the words surprise jae as he sings them, and his eyes dart to the side to catch brian looking at him, eyes fixed on him as his fingers strum the chords. he chuckles silently, cocking his head sideways. when jae looks out at the sea of strangers, all eyes are on them, the teens all gaping at the pair of them.

that may be all i need

in darkness, she is all i see

come and rest your bones with me

driving slow on sunday morning

and i never want to leave

the seconds are a blur before jae as the lyrics come to his throat, as if on instinct. to be fair, he’s sung the song all these years, still one of his all-time favourites despite everything else in his life. the song he’d first sung with brian when they were up in the younger’s attic, fifteen and sixteen respectively, brian strumming on an untuned guitar, jae’s voice cracking as he giggled over his friend’s ridiculous over-dramatic play.

(“you’re ruining the song, y’know,” he’d prodded as brian cheekily ran his hands over the strings in mock-sexiness. (mock-sexiness?) his friend had shot him a glare, but his eyes glistened with glee as he poked jae’s skinny thigh with his foot.)

fingers trace your every outline

paint a picture with my hands

back and forth we sway like branches in a storm

change the weather, still together when it ends

brian’s best memory of this song is when they heard it on the radio for the first time. they’d cranked the damned machine so loud, he could hear his mum cursing at him from the kitchen. jae had thrown his head back to laugh; brian still remembers noticing the outline of the other’s adam’s apple, the pale skin under the collar of his scruff shirt. both of them had dragged the radio to the attic, listened to the song. mocked an acoustic guitar, scribbled down the lyrics. they’d loved every second of it; brian loved - still loves - every second of it.

that may be all i need

in darkness, she is all i see

come and rest your bones with me

driving slow on sunday morning

and i never want to leave

sometimes jae wonders why he hadn’t passed brian an email address or something after all those years. sometimes jae wonders why he hadn’t showed up at the airport, instead leaving a wrapped gift box on the doorstep before walking off. sometimes jae wonders, if confessing to brian all those years ago would’ve made the difference that mattered the most.

but things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do

sunday morning, rain is falling and i'm calling out to you

singing, someday it'll bring me back to you.

find a way to bring myself back home to you

the last line hits home somewhere, and sometimes brian wonders why he hadn’t slipped a social media account or something after all those years. sometimes brian wonders why he hadn’t bounded over to jae’s place, instead sending his farewell present in his mailbox. sometimes brian wonders, if confessing to jae all those years ago would’ve made the difference that mattered the most.

that may be all i need

in darkness, she is all i see

come and rest your bones with me

driving slow on sunday morning

driving slow

sincerely, looking at brian now, jae wonders how all those years have gone by when he knew brian was somewhere out there in this world. it scares him, sometimes, how small the world is, whenever he bumps into a friend from high school at the local park or whenever he has a run-in with his university lecturer at the car repair shop.

perhaps this time it doesn’t scare him as much.

it's flower in your hair

staring at jae now, brian wonders how all those years have gone by when he knew jae was somewhere out there in this world. to think that he went through flings and relationships and harsh break-ups to know someone like jae still exists, is absurd. but he’ll get by. he’ll make the most out of these next few hours with jae; perhaps they’ll rest their bones with each other.

i'm a flower in your hair

—

15:59

the corner of his eye bruised, minjoon crushes the ice pack in his hand. around him, his gang with no name surrounds him, their words tuned out as minjoon glares out of the window of the convenience store. he’s been stood here for almost a good hour already, but he’ll be damned if that stranger he’d seen earlier was, in fact, brian kang in a leather jacket in the cold fucking winter of this damned city.

“y’know,” byunho pipes up. there’s a cut on his upper lip from where minjoon squared him when he first laid eyes on the other. (“you told me he’d be an easy pulp!” “w-well, that was what i heard !”) “he’s just fucking jealous that you’re with sungjin. you had to set him straight-”

“-totally,” hyunwoo shoots back, patting minjoon’s shoulder. “just that, well, he had his luck looking out for him. look at his scrawny size compared to you. if you gave him your full potential, he would’ve been in deep shit. literally-”

“-i mean, brian is pretty fucking broad, and-”

“-didn’t he use to take boxing classes with sungji-”

“-shut your fucking pieholes, asshats,” minjoon growls, and promptly silences the rest of them. outside, the snowflakes drift to the ground softly, creating a sort of what would’ve been a picturesque view if brian hadn’t just walked down the street, hand gripping a coffee cup. he’s strolling down idly, alongside a taller boy, skinny, beanie lopsided on his head. a smirk creeps his way upon his lips.

the grip on the ice pack against his eye tightens.

“c’mon, you dumbasses. we’ve got an ex to put in place.”

—  

16:11

“... and so, well,” brian sighs shakily, the wisp of his breath swirling in the sky. a group of children bundled up in winter coats and mittens rushes past them in a hurry, chasing after a dog taking off somewhere down the walkway. he’s interrupted momentarily, but shortly after a smile replaces his little frown. “they’re stuck in toronto, i’m stuck in good ‘ol korea. that’s why i can’t see my folks on the day i die.”

“huh,” jae licks his lips, dry from the weather. brian looks at him, looks at his tongue lapping out over his lower lip, before straying his vision away. “well, aren’t you going to contact them somehow? at least, let them know and grieve?”

“i guess,” brian shrugs, but jae knows it when he sees it: the slump of his back, his bored eyes, his skeptical expression. his body language already opposes jae’s words despite having not said a word against the other, but jae doesn’t prod him. he knows that once brian’s mind is made up, it’s made up - there’s no overruling it.

their coffee cups, a special treat from the lady at the counter after their unforeseen gig, turn colder with every passing minute. “where are we heading next?” jae quizzes, attempting to lighten the mood.

brian takes a sip of his americano. “where do you wanna go and leave your mark?”

“seriously?” they stroll along a pedestrian crossing. cars beep, zooming past. lights shine and flicker in the already darkening late afternoon. clouds are overcast, snow falling more and more insistently with every second. they seem to bark at them to hurry the fuck up and move on, but jae can’t comply so easily. “i have no idea."

they make a left, darting down the uptown area of the city. high-rise apartments loom over them, squeezed in between department stores and various chain restaurants and franchises. everywhere they go seems packed, the christmas eve cheer and last-minute gift-shopping leaving everyone desperate the snag the last discounted item on the shelf. jae carelessly flings his cup into a trash can, and for a moment, brian is mildly amused, but then remembers jae and his talent for basketball in their senior years of high school.

jae wiggles his eyebrows tauntingly. “score.”

“get us to a destination, jesus christ,” brian rolls his eyes, taking another gulp of the bittersweet drink.

“my name’s jae, but sure thing,” jae winks, his smile playful. ever since after their gig, there’s signs of childhood jae popping up here and there, and in moments like these, flashes of memories shared between them appear in his mind, disappearing all too soon for himself to respond to them. “aaaaactually, there is one place i’d love to go,” he juts in abruptly.

brian raises an eyebrow. a challenge. “can it beat mine? we literally harboured the attention of a coffeehouse full of teens deprived of christmas cheer. we’re talking the teens of the twenty-first century, mi amigo.”

“all thanks to my sexy voice,” jae puffs his chest out proudly. the younger simply shakes his head and tosses his empty cup into a trash bin, but the grin on his lips betrays him. “c’mon. there’s a couple of people i wanna meet. you good with tagging along?”

a couple of people? judging from jae’s reluctance in bounding up to charted destinations and will to stay at home, brian’s surprised jae even has people he wants to say goodbye to. perhaps family? brian wonders. jae hadn’t uttered a word about his parents throughout their journey, but he keeps his mouth shut. he’ll say it when he wants to say it , he admonishes himself. keeping his face neutral, brian nods his head. “yeah, sure. let’s get this thing going.”

—

16:43

brian has to question himself and his choices - no, question jae and his choices - because they’re slowing to a stop outside the local sports centre. on christmas fucking eve. squinting at the words emblazoned on the slate near the doorway, he scans the words with precision. “dude, it literally says here that it’s closed on mondays,” he points out. his fingers reach out to yank jae’s arm, but tall, big-boned jae simply brushes past unconvinced, making his way to the double doors.

“dude, it’s locked-” the squeak of the double doors swinging open interrupts brian, and he stands there, one hand in his pocket, one hand still pointed at the slate. jae catches the look of bewilderment splayed across his face, laughs, shoots a “c’mon, dumbass.”

brian hasn’t ever stepped foot into the sports centre - then again, he lives forever away from this damned city, only coming here once in a while to gig at the coffeehouse. the second he steps in, he’s in awe. framed awards line the walls of the hallways. several trophies are shut behind display cases mounted on the walls. for what reason, brian has no idea, but it’s safe to say that he’s pretty impressed by this sport centre’s facilities.

beside him, jae pinches the sleeve of brian’s leather jacket, their grins a reflection of each other’s. “they don’t close for the kids,” he murmurs. he chuckles at the knitting of the younger’s eyebrows as brian tries to comprehend what jae has said. “i meant, like, the ki- oh, come on.”

his heart in his throat for whatever apparent reason, jae drags brian by the sleeve down the long corridor, makes a left; the sound of their boots against the sleek floor is heard distinctively. all along they pass the tennis court, the badminton court.

shouts and laughter reverberate from these enclosed spaces hidden away by a mere door, but when brian manages to peek into the volleyball court, his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. they’re not teens, or adults spending their leisure time here.

they’re kids .

before brian can open his mouth to shoot jae a question, they skid to an abrupt halt outside one of the doors. “okay, well. here we are,” jae offers a small smile, his teeth showing as he pushes down on the door handle and reveals the brightly lit basketball court.

the energy thriving in the court is a complete opposite of the coffeehouse. brian’s eyes widen like saucers at the sight of children, all not more than the age of twelve or thirteen, running around the court, chasing the basketball. high-pitched squeals and giggles echo throughout the court, accompanied by the thumping of sneakers against the squeaky court floor. bottles of water and towels are littered all along a railing on one side of the wall, the adjacent wall giving way for bleachers. a couple of older guys, some men and women, are seated at the bleachers, either watching on or looking at their phone screens.

jae has to hold back a peal of laughter as he skims brian’s shocked expression. he nudges the other’s rib. “so? whaddya think?” he asks, raising an eyebrow cheekily.

at the sight of them, a little kid with pigtails and a jersey (with what brian recognises as michael jordan’s number at the back) gasps. “it’s jaeeeee!” she screeches, and immediately the game stops. the heavy pounding of sneakers rushing their way intensifies with every second as the kids all run, screaming at the tops of their lungs as they barrel towards jae.

shocked, brian is perhaps a little dazed as the kids huddle around jae. words of “i didn’t know you’re coming today, jae!” “jae! i finally shot from half-court today!” and “hyung! where’d you get your beanie from?” all imply that this certainly isn’t jae’s first time here. awkwardly, he waves at the adults on the bleachers, before returning his attention to the children all talking a mile a minute around him.

“woah, woah, hold up guys,” jae rushes, running a hand through his hair and almost sending his beanie falling off of his head. “hey, guys. yeah, i didn’t tell y’all i’m coming today, but guess what? i thought of coming over today, because i missed you guys, really.” and it’s genuine, it’s true. jae wants to see them one more time, these kids he devotes his wednesday and saturday evenings with, the only time he’s ever gotten away from home. a home away from home, he likes to say.

“hyung! who’s that ?” one boy with a coconut bowl haircut asks - more like screeches - while pointing at brian. “hyung! is that your-” he gasps, “-your boyfriend ?!”

all the kids gasp in unison, their eyes wide, and the questions resume; “jae, i thought you were single!” “hyung, i didn’t know you had a boyfriend!” “i was going to marry you when i got older, jae!”

“wait, what ?” jae has to laugh as hyunjee bounces up and down on her toes. “hyunjee, when you get to my age, i’ll be, like, peaking near forty.”

brian smothers a smile as the girl pouts and crosses her arms. someone from the back of the group pipes up, “well, congratulations, hyung!”

“wait, wait, wait!” jae hollers, his face now nearing a embarrassing crimson shade. he sneaks a side-eye glance at brian, who only grins wider at him, mouths a “go on”. his heart cannot be beating any faster than this. “this isn’t… we’re not, well, boyfriends.” there’s an audible awww , save for hyunjee who perks up at this news. “he’s my childhood friend. everyone say hi to brian.”

“hiiiii brian!” everyone choruses, some waving fervently at them. one boy with his head shaved perks up. “excuse me, ahjussi-”

“-just call me hyung,” brian smiles.

“-okay. excuse me, hyung, but are you sure you’re not jae-hyung’s boyfriend? you look like, and i quote him, ‘a hundred percent’ his ‘type’ .” he air-quotes jae, and immediately he’s joined in with nods of agreement. speechless, brian shoots jae a knowing glance, to which he earns a fairly deep blushing of the older’s cheeks.

one girl with a bob raises her hand, as if they’re in a class. “jae says he likes guys with very nice noses and very wiiiiide, brooooaaad shoulders! and also, earrings!” she points out, gesturing to the hoop earrings on either side of the other’s ears. “he says he likes guys who are shorter than him! and with eyes like a fox-”

“-seunghee! i did not say that!-”

“-you are one hundred percent his type, brian-hyung!” coconut-bowl boy shouts above the din.

“kids! how about i play one game with you guys! team a and b as like last time, brian playing with team b?” jae frantically cuts in, and thank god for short-span concentration, because all the kids jump up and down in delight. some drag jae by the sleeve over to the court, others ushering brian to the basketball court. when they exchange glances, brian lifts his eyebrows in a what the fuck? unmistakable to jae.

the older simply grits his teeth, and cranes his neck, as if to say fucking play, asshole.

having followed jae all the way here, brian had not expected himself to be playing basketball against his own best friend with a bunch of kids not any taller than his stomach. he snatches the ball, the feel of it in his palms as if reaching through all those years ago. high school has done wonders, most of which brian hasn’t forgotten as he tears down the court. the sound of squeaking sneakers fills the air as brian dribbles his way down the court.

and of course jae tries to corner him, and because he’s taller than brian, brian has to make a pass to coconut-bowl boy. to his shock, coconut-bowl catches the ball with ease, before passing it to seunghee. like second nature, she shoots - and scores.

“woah, holy shi-” brian almost completes the cuss word before all the kids, but thankfully catches himself before doing so. did that girl, the height of brian’s stomach… just shoot a three-pointer? he blinks rapidly, the kids cheering joyfully all around him.

he’s only snapped out of his daze when jae approaches him and slaps brian’s back. “damn. felt good, right?” he chuckles. he’s shrugging his winter coat off of his shoulders, and brian’s even more enamoured now, looking at jae and his sweater underneath, the length of his arms further addling with his brain. when jae yanks off his mittens, they reveal pale, slender fingers.

brian wills himself to look at the kids, who squeal and hug each other. their innocence and naivety send a rush of warmth in his blood, staring at them and their jostling about as they try and steal his attention. “hyung, did you see that?!” coconut-bowl boy wails.

“i saw that, buddy,” he leans down to ruffle the boy’s dark, mussy hair.

when he turns around, jae’s set his coat and mittens by the bleachers, taking long strides back to them. brian tries to read the other’s placid expression, which breaks into a grin as several kids go back and point accusations at the older. one boy with glasses sliding down his nose (a mini-jae, brian muses), pouts and crosses his arms. “hyung, you went easy on brian-hyung!”

“you must reeeeeeally like him, hyung,” coconut-bowl boy teases. “i saw you hesi- hesi-”

“-hesitating,” jae finishes for him. the tips of his ears are now bright red, as if someone painted them a deep shade of tomato. “and no, buddy, that’s because meena was in my way-”

“-i was not in your way!” meera pipes up, and this prompts an “oooooohhh!” from the kids.

“goddammit, guys,” jae flushes harder, and doesn’t maintain eye contact with brian for the rest of the game. honestly? brian finds it so hilarious he pinches the other’s cheek while stealing the ball from him halfway through the game. all the kids are too busy squealing, jae’s too busy blushing, for any of them to react to brian tossing the basketball from half-court - and scoring.

the game is a blur of limbs and high-pitched screams as everyone makes a grab for the basketball. all in all, brian begins sweating under his leather jacket, and so he shrugs it off, revealing his light grey sweatshirt underneath. there’s some dry, crusted blood at the collar from the fight, but thankfully none of the kids are at the height to see it. when he shoots a quick glimpse at jae, he’s… well, staring.

they lock eyes for a second. the kids are all gathered around their bottles, glugging down water and towelling off their sweat. as brian maintains eye contact with jae, a knowing smirk can’t help but spread across his face subtly. underneath his ribcage, his heart pounds so hard he hears his heartbeat in his ears.

jae doesn’t stop staring. he can’t. he can see brian’s biceps rippling under the sweater, which is, to be fair, a little too thin to be of winter wear, but what the hell. seeing brian seeing him makes him chew on his lower lip nervously and gaze elsewhere.

brian bites back a laugh.

eventually, team b wins, with the children all swirling around brian cheering, ecstatic. their glee practically drowns the room, the adults glancing up from their phones to smile at their kids. as everyone begins packing up, seunghee bounds over to brian, tugs at his sleeve. “brian?”

“yeah?” brian bends down to meet eye level with the girl, her hair sweaty and fringe matted across her forehead. he grins. “what’s up?”

“will we see you again?” she asks shyly. she shifts her weight from one foot to another sheepishly.

well… “i don’t think so,” brian whispers. he strokes her hair gently. “i live very, very far from here. being with you and the others today is, well,” he chokes up a little. god , is this sentimental. “a miracle, i can say.”

seunghee mulls over this for a moment, before nodding her head. “okay. thanks for playing with us, today, brian-oppa!” before she dashes off to her parents waiting by the doors, she slips her silver bangle off of her wrist. daintily, she gestures for brian to stick his hand out so she can let it slide into brian’s own wrist. wordlessly, she smiles and hurries off to her parents.

still a little confused, brian inspects the bangle for a moment. he barely notices jae’s presence until a shadow looms over him. “what’s that?” he suddenly asks, jerking brian back to reality.

“oh, hey,” he shows off his wrist to jae. seunghee gave it to me.”

“hm, she must like you, then,” jae chuckles. he holds out brian’s leather jacket, which the latter promptly takes up and slips back on. it’s oddly calming for them to do this, as if they’ve done this every day, as if jae does this every morning before he- stop . “well, that was my go-to place before i die.”

brian lets his eyes wander, skimming past jae’s features. his hair is mess, beanie still somehow lodged onto his head like second skin. his eyes are wide, cheeks flushed from all the running and playing and shouting along with the kids. yet, they’re shaky, as if holding back watery tears. “you good?”

“yeah, just-” jae clears his throat, lowers his head slightly. “the kids.”

realisation dawns upon brian. “ah, yeah. that.”

“i told their folks not to tell ‘em. just say that i’m moving away elsewhere, probably won’t come back,” jae purses his lips together into a straight line, and brian can tell it’s his coping mechanism so as not to break down almost entirely into tears and a sobbing mess. “i don’t want them to… y’know. know that i’m dying and whatever.”

“i gotcha,” brian musters a smile, patting jae’s shoulder. soundlessly, they exit the basketball court.

the lone basketball rolls around the court as the lights are switched off.

—

17:32

jae should consider this obnoxiously cliche, but the two of them are now in a souvenir store, tucked away in one of the many shops and stores lining the streets. with the snow falling heavier and heavier now, more and more little kids kick up the snow and toss scrawny snowballs at each other, their parents urging them to walk on along the sidewalks. groups of teens pass by, clinging onto one another and clinking bottles of soju together. his eyes fall on a boy and a girl, possibly not any older than twenty, swinging their locked hands together as they stroll along.

inside the souvenir shop, the shelves lining the walls are filled to the brim with whatever kpop group jae has heard - and never heard - before, from keychains and mugs to various other trinkets. posters of scenic places in korea are hung on the walls, some captured as if they were ancient tapestries. brian halts before the wall of postcards.

“i thought over what you said,” brian starts. jae leans closer to look at what brian’s eyes are on. “i think… i’ll mail my folks back in canada. you’re right. it is pretty jack shit of me not to let them know,” he sniffs a bit, before snatching up one postcard. it overlooks the han river, glistening and sparkling in the photograph.

as he struts up to the counter to pay for it and grab a pen to scribble a message on the back of the card, jae peers at the postcards. a dull throbbing starts in his heart, cursing its way throughout his chest. the memories begin haunting him back, and he tries to push them away.

shakily, he reaches out to let his fingertips graze the front of a postcard of jeju island, his movements slowed as the remembrance of the last time he went there begin pricking through his skin.

“you getting that one?” brian’s deep voice brushes his left ear, and jae almost jumps in surprise. his grin is tight. “i asked the guy at the counter to help me deliver it.”

“already?” jae whispers - his voice is hoarse, choked up.

brian nods his head. “yeah. you’ve been staring at the postcards for, like, twenty minutes now.” he shoves his curled fists into the front pockets of his leather jacket as he inspects jae, as if reading his expression. he cocks his head to the side. jae’s eyes remain on the hoop earring tinkling as he tilts his head. “you got something on your mind?”

yeah . “not exactly…” jae mutters.

his friend thumps the other’s shoulders. “c’mon, man. i’ve been with you through thick and thin. you obviously have something kicking up a fuss in you. is it about the kids?” you haven’t been through every thick and thin . jae tightens his grip on the strap of his satchel bag slung on one bony shoulder. “hey, jae. you’re kinda fucking pale-”

“-shut up,” jae mutters so softly brian almost doesn’t hear it. “shut up, just shut up.”

a crease lines brian’s forehead. “dude, what? hey, what happened? you were cheerful a while ago, what’s going on-”

“-i said shut up !” jae screeches, straining his neck. all of a sudden, the shop falls silent. a foreigner couple quickly darts out of the store, the pudgy man at the counter glances down at his phone, the gaggle of girls hurriedly fall silent, instead rifling through the keychains soundlessly. ghosts in a shop. ghosts are all they are in this shop.

the music overhead switches to big bang’s blue .

the winter has passed and the spring has come

we have withered and our hearts are bruised from longing

the hand raised to reassure jae falls back down to the younger’s side. brian bites down on his lower lip. “look, jae-” he cuts himself off, remembering jae’s words. what he doesn’t expect is for jae to latch onto his wrist, fingers curling around the broad palm as he steers them out of the shop. “wait, jae, jae, where are we going- jae!”

—

18:02

gloomy clouds hang in the sky, trained up like puppets overhead. their boots squelch along the pathway, leading them through the gravestones. at this time of day, visitors begin to trickle out of the yard, heading for dinner, but not jae and brian, brian and jae, hand-in-hand, side-by-side.

“you didn’t tell me,” brian finally manages.

jae ignores the blood rushing to his head, the heat from brian’s hand constantly squeezing jae’s palm. it’s not like that , he thinks. it’s not like that , he tells himself. he’s nervous, nervous because he’s finally mustering himself up for the place he’s wanted to go before he dies, the place he doesn’t want to go before he dies, because people who are dead shouldn’t be mourned when you yourself are about to die.

but the memories ngaw at his brain. even brian’s had a change of heart about his folks. about damn time jae had that for himself.

“you didn’t ask,” jae mutters lamely.

they don’t have any flowers.

—

18:05

“who’s that?” byunho pokes minjoon in the rib as they peek over the gateway to the graveyard. the two figures stroll along the walkway, and finally there’s no one in sight. having trailed the two for forever, minjoon had been waiting for the opportunity to strike. you’ve just got to grab those reins the second they fly into the air , he smirks to himself.

“does it look like i care?” he snorts. just as he lowers his binoculars, his phone buzzes in his back pocket. irritated, he digs it out, only to notice the contact name blinking across his screen. he lets out a deep exhale and punches answer . “hey, babe? yeah. no, i’m with my friends. yes, i know i promised five, but i got caught up, okay?... what do you mean where i am? i’m at the fried chicken place. yeah, yeah. okay. love you.” he hangs up indifferently, much to his gang’s surprise.

heejun is the first (and the bravest) to speak up. “are you lying to sungjin?”

“so?” minjoon rolls his eyes. “i can’t believe i hang out with you doofuses. if someone squared you in the face, would you think about a fucking candlelit dinner first, or a round two?”

“actually, i would like a candleli-”

“-stuff it, asshole,” minjoon barks at hyunwoo, who immediately shuts up. “now i remember why i hang out with y’all. other than beating the batshit out of people, you guys are complete morons. now get the hell on.”

minjoon slides his phone into his back pocket, signalling for the others to follow him. he doesn’t switch the navigator off of his phone.

—

18:19

brian watches the outline of jae against the grieving backdrop, his head bowed as he looks over his parents’, his sister’s gravestones. all he can gather is a jeju island family trip, a lorry against a taxi. four lives lost, one life saved. he doesn’t want to push it, knows that this is harder for jae than for anybody else, realises why he shuts himself up in his apartment with his job and only emerging into daylight for the joy of others rather than his own.

as jae finishes the last of his words, there comes the heavy thundering of boots. he swivels around only to see… fuck. fuck fuck, oh fuckity fuck.

he’s so fucked.

“look, jae, i’m really sorry, but can we kind of get a move on?” brian urges jae, who’s disrupted from his daze and peers up, just in time to see a guy with a bird’s nest of dark brown hair throw a solid punch on brian’s cheek. he shrieks, stunned, as he watches one, two, three, four guys all aiming for his friend’s face like a fucking bullseye.

“who the fuck are you guys?” jae’s voice booms, catching the gang’s attention.

bird’s nest hair boy sneers at jae, before exchanging glances between him and brian. a devilish smirk plasters itself across jae’s face, and suddenly the knot in his stomach tightens by a tenth-fold. “brian? why would you possibly hate me if you already found another boy toy to fuck an ass into? why’d you have to screw up my fucking face?” he growls, throwing a shin kick, making brian double over in pain. two guys pin brian’s arms in a vice grip, a third awaiting for bird’s nest boy’s orders.

when bird’s nest turns around to face jae, he grins. “so what if i fucked up his pretty face, brian? would that make us even-”

“-fuck. off ,” brian grumbles. “you called for us to fight in the first place!”

“and then you screwed up my face!” minjoon howls back. jae’s back is pressed against the trunk of an old oak tree. his eyes glance down momentarily at the gravestones, his mum’s picture glistening in the near moonlight. forgive me, mum.

“you think you can- what the fuck !-” jae pulls off a whole tornado kick at bird’s nest at the leg, sending him flying before landing onto the ground in a heap. when minjoon struggles to his elbows, jae, panicked as he is, does the next most plausible thing: he kicks the dude’s groin, sending him screaming as the pain shoots to his southern genitals.

immediately, the other three goons square up on jae. before brian can punch one of them down, he’s stood gaping in shock. jae, the skinny, lanky jae with little more than no muscle, pulls off a bunch of moves brian’s only seen in martial arts movies: he double front kicks heejun’s chest, a spinning back kick on hyunwoo, and - byunho rolls onto the ground screeching helplessly, trying with all his might to take cover.

jae’s about to kick the guy’s balls when the sound of another pair of shoes is heard against the gravel ground. he spins around to see a man, head shaved, tear down the walkway. beside him, he sees brian’s stunned face, his jaw set, teeth gritting as bald dude reaches them. he doesn’t seem to pose any threat, so jae lowers his stance. he breathes shakily.

he eyes the scene before them. “what the…” when his eyes land on brian, he exhales. “brian-”

“-don’t you fucking brian me,” he hisses. “since when did your boyfriend and his henchmen come after me and almost kill the both of us?”

“he said he was getting fried chicken! i’m only here because i decided to check where he was on his navigator system! how was i to know that he was lying to me?”

“i thought it’d be like having a lie detector on you, sungjin.” sungjin. brian’s ex . jae blinks, leaning back against the oak tree, beat. he hasn’t pulled off those moves in forever, considering he hasn’t gone for any classes since achieving his black belt. “considering you lied to me in the first place.”

“spicy!” byunho cooes, but is instantly shushed by jae.

sungjin wrings his hands together. “i don’t get you-”

“-you don’t get me? how about all those times you said you loved me when you were truly falling out of it? how about all those times you said you were working overtime when you were truly staying back to linger around this motherfucker? how about all those times you said you would live forever with me when you were truly signing a lease to another apartment of your own?” brian’s breaths are heavy, ragged, as he spits out the words, sungjin seemingly punched all over by them. brian shakes his head. “y’know, what? i thought we could, i don’t know, make up before i died tonight. you and your boyfriend just spell trouble. i’m out of here.”

with that, he takes jae by the arm, but sungjin’s palm comes down roughly onto brian’s back. “i said i’m out of here-”

“-you’re dying tonight?” sungjin’s eyes are blown wide, his eyebrows raised. “what…”

“DEATH-CAST called,” brian answers, matter-of-factly. watching the pain on sungjin’s face might’ve shattered his heart yesterday, but he’s over this. why had he mourned over the loss of his ex when jae had been out there in this world all along? he shakes his head once more. “bless your life, sungjin. i hate your boyfriend, by the way.”

with shaky hands and shaky knees, the pair of them trudge off down the walkway, an energy-depleted jae leaning against brian, and for once, brian doesn’t mind. he doesn’t mind because unlike his ex, jae’s here for him, truly here for him.

—

18:49

the sun has long dipped past the horizon. the snow has eased off, though several stray flakes flitter and flutter in the chilly air. jae scrapes a chair back, ignoring the stares the pair of them receive at how wrecked they both look. he passes brian an ice pack. “here,” he mumbles.

brian takes it gratefully, struggles to smile. fuck this shit.

the diner is milling about with the dinner crowd, families with little kids and christmas couples and youthful groups of teens and senior citizens. jae breathes out a shaky sigh as his eyes dart from one end of the room to the other. so this is the world i’m leaving behind tonight.

“firstly, i’m sorry,” brian sputters out of the blue. jae’s head snaps back to look at brian, look at the purplish-black bruise. minjoon had squared him right around the same area he’d punched him in the afternoon, and jae’s mildly surprised brian isn’t craning a broken bone. to all the shit this guy has been through today. “i’m sorry for bugging you back at the store. that was really heartless of me-”

“-you didn’t know-”

“-still,” brian spits back. he sighs softly, letting silence hang over them when the waitress comes over. she sets two glasses of water before them. out of the corner of his eye, jae notices how she averts her gaze away from the both of them. the moment she leaves, brian resumes. “i knew something was wrong. so i’m sorry. i’m also sorry for the bullshit i dragged you into-”

“-like i said, you didn’t know-”

“-jesus, jae, just… hear me out,” brian breathes, and the other clamps his mouth shut. “you were trying to bid your parents goodbye, praying right there when these stupid asshats came over and disrupted you from doing so. thus, i’m sorry for that. and lastly…” with his free hand, he fiddles with his straw. his eyes land onto the napkin laid before him. “... thank you.”

jae’s eyes widen at how gentle, how broken brian’s voice is. he must really feel guilty for what happened , he thinks to himself. he reaches out to catch brian’s hand, wrap his long fingers around his curled fist. “hey now. you don’t have to thank me. that was… self-combat, i guess,” he chuckles, eliciting a giggle from the other. “you’re just lucky i haven’t forgotten how to kick around and mess up people’s bloodstreams.”

brian shakes his head, meeting jae’s gaze. “i’m glad i never riled you up. that would’ve been…”

“...painful?” jae finishes earnestly, a little too earnestly. if brian notices, he doesn’t acknowledge it, instead grinning wider.

their bowls of steaming ramen are soon set down before them. licking his chapped lips, brian clicks his chopsticks together, strings up a bundle of noodles. jae watches, amused, as brian slowly slurps the noodles up. it’s cute, the way brian blows on them softly before gobbling it down, as brian lets out a satisfactory “ahhh” after swallowing.

jae forgets about the cups of instant noodles in his satchel bag altogether.

“i can’t believe i’m leaving this beaut behind,” brian gazes longingly at his bowl of ramen, before taking up another mouthful. he even gulps down all the spring onions. knowing this, jae smiles to himself as he picks his own spring onions out to place them into brian’s bowl. it’s domestic, jae thinks. it’s just domestic of them.

when brian notices jae picking at his food, he flicks soup in his direction. the older scowls in response. “since when did mama k teach you to play with your food?” jae admonishes, but his tone is light, playful, teasing.

“since you started unstanning ramen, a-k-a the food of the gods. what’s up, man?” brian asks.

jae shakes his head. “it’s just… i just thought of something.”

brian leans across the table, raising his eyebrows. “what’s going on in that head of yours, jaejae?” he teases, showing off his pearly whites in an attempt to look flashy. it’s actually kind of horrific with the seaweed stuck in between brian’s incisors, but jae will comment on it later.

“there’s one thing i haven’t tried before.”

“enlighten me, please,” brian cooes, popping a fishcake into his mouth. god does he look adorable when he eats, bruised cheek and all.

jae shakes his head. “you’ll hate me for this.”

—

19:23

“brian, you know i can’t-”

“-you’re such a wimp- ”

“-brian, wait, brian, hold my hand, please-”

“-you big baby-”

“-aaahhhh!-” jae screeches as the first skate slices across the ice. laughing, brian takes jae’s hand delicately, as if it’s a diamond, and drags him along. this prompts jae to land his other skate onto the frozen lake. his hands fly out to make a grab for the railing, dug deep into the mound of snow all around it. several skaters pass by, watching the pair warily, judgementally as brian giggles over jae’s panicked gasps. “holy shit, holy shit- ”

“-calm down,” brian huffs. jae watches the other’s breath form a small wisp of vapour in the cold air. the snow’s stopped falling, but a slight breeze picks up, rustling through naked tree branches. all around them, little children heave snowballs at each other, racing each other from one end of the lake to the other; adolescents show off their skills in front of their friends, adults shakily putting one foot in front of the other with their kids surrounding them. when jae’s eyes scan brian’s amused face, the latter offers a small smile. “just. trust me on this one.”

after everything that’s happened today, jae lets go of the railing, only for him to lose his balance and grasp at the nearest thing possible. which happens to be brian’s shoulders. brian wails at jae’s tight vice on his broad shoulders, fingertips digging into the leather jacket and thick skin as jae clutches on for dear life. their chests heave against each other, and warmth spreads like ink through water, up jae’s neck under the itchy scarf.

“you could’ve given a light warning,” brian hisses.

“sorry!” jae whimpers, slowly letting go of one shoulder to let his hand rest on brian’s. hopefully, brian doesn’t notice how harshly jae’s heart is pounding against his chest at the moment. perhaps, if brian does notice, he’ll brush it off as fright of landing his bum onto the ground and skidding across the ice. as their hands touch, jae wraps his gloved fingers around the other’s palm. “make sure i don’t fall, please.”

brian sniggers a little as he drags jae along. their skates slice through the ice, the sshh sound filling their ears as brian slowly, carefully drags jae along for the ride. he watches jae, his wild eyes, his tensed shoulders, his awkward posture as he windmills his other arm in search of balancing himself.

just to taunt jae a bit more, brian loosens his grip on jae, who screeches blue murder. he reaches out desperately for brian’s hand, but the latter skates away nonchalantly. brian has to hide his smirk behind his fist and smother his giggles as jae, beanie lopsided on his head, scarf wrapped all around his face, whines and pouts. he stomps on his skate, which ultimately leads him to lose his balance and fall over.

“brian kang younghyun, you come over here right now!” jae hollers. this attracts some unwanted attention from the passing skaters.  brian dips his head down low sheepishly as he skids over to where jae’s bum is now in contact with the frozen over lake.

when he offers a hand, jae grabs at it, their fingers intertwining on contact. brian tries so hard to still the beating of his heart, to still the adrenaline pumping throughout his entire body as jae purses his full, chapped lips together. he teeters onto his two feet carefully, but the second he lands back onto his skates, his feet slide apart and he crashes straight into the silver railing, sending it wobbling.

jae whimpers in pain, his feet now sliding far apart from either of them. “brian damn you and your stupid skating skills!” jae huffs as the other can only clutch his stomach, his chest heaving with convulsive laughter. with a flourish, he stops before jae, covering his palm with his own, and dragging him along the ice.

“c’mon,” brian whispers softly. “don’t be such a crybaby. ice-skating is actually really fun once you get the hang of it.” before jae can protest otherwise, he adds, “it’s your last chance to have a shot on it, y’know.”

jae sighs deeply. the sentiment of the wintry night dies upon his friend’s lips, spiralling down back to their imminent story endings. “well, there’s plenty i still haven’t tried before. i’ve never gone bungee jumping, or skydiving, or swimming with dolphins. i bet you haven’t, too.”

“well, we can’t exactly swim with dolphins within the next couple of hours in our freezing waters,” brian points out, the ghost of a grin tickling his lips as he catches jae mulling over his words. jae sighs, instead squeezing brian’s hand.

“then move it. i can’t move on my own,” jae barks, but there’s not a hint of anger in his words, only pouty demand, which prompts brian to laugh as he pulls jae along.

as they ice-skate, jae watches his surroundings carefully, just in case minjoon is out and about with his gang once again, but all he sees are children squealing in delight and mums and dads playing with their kids. he does catch several couples laughing as their significant others lose their footing, several couples tonguing it up for everyone to check them out. instead of staring on in disgust, jae wonders if that’s what he’s missing out; that he’ll die tonight all alone with no one after him.

but then brian squeezes his palm, and when he looks back at him, he sees the glittering of the other’s bright crescent-shaped eyes, the smile adorning his face, and maybe jae hopes that he’ll die alongside his old, childhood friend after all. he’s already thankful enough to have met brian under the stars, against all odds, seeing him again after all these years and truly showing to jae what it means to live his life as he should.

they probably slide across the ice quietly for a half hour or so, jae slowly getting the hang of it and loosening his grip on brian. yet, their fingers remain intertwined, and jae kind of realises them keeping their hands together has more to do with wanting to rather than a necessity. he blushes at this.

as they skid off the ice, brian lets go of jae’s hand momentarily, the warmth missing as he helps the older off of the ice. jae stumbles a little, and brian laughs as both hands reach out to grab jae’s slender waist, bundled up in layers of clothing.

the snow falls, falls, falls. jae’s heart beats, beats, beats.

the last heartbeats.

realising where he’s holding, brian hurriedly loosens hi grip. “s-sorry,” he mutters quietly, retracting. they settle near a bench to yank off their ice skates. just as brian is about to return their skates to the pop-up rental shop, he feels long fingers latch around his wrist, turns to face jae and his starry, starry eyes.

“your place or mine?”

—

20:34

“well, this is the manhole,” brian shoves the door to his apartment, and jae’s eyes take their time to adjust to the dim light. after a quick bite of a couple of sushi rolls (wherein jae tries wasabi - it’s the spiciest fucking thing ever, and he drank way more water than he needed to, but anything to see brian laugh so loud it shook the table), they’ve finally stopped by brian’s place. despite brian saying he’s lived here for a good few months already, there are still cardboard boxes littering the expanse of the hallway, the walls empty. it’s a three-room space, the kitchen and living room adjacent. as jae emerges into the living room, he drinks in the sight of coffee mugs on coffee table, boxes stacked in the corner. naked christmas tree in another corner.

jae frowns at the last. “what’s with mr naked wood?” jae half-jokes, gesturing to the undecorated tree. when brian strides into the room, his eyes follow where jae is pointing at, and grits his teeth.

“ah, that.” he murmurs. “i was intending on decorating but. i’ve been pretty busy and, well, everything else in between.”

his words are heavy, hang from the ceiling dangerously close to snapping. jae suspects it has something to do with sungjin, but he keeps his mouth shut. instead, he wanders across the living room, the place a mess. he loses his footing and kicks a heavy cardboard box, however, and whines in pain.

brian hurries over. “shit, you okay?” brian asks frantically. he guides jae by the shoulders onto the worn-out couch, stuffing peeking out from the bursting fabric. jae pouts, holding his right foot in agony. the other tries not to stare, but by god is it tough - jae’s heart-shaped lips look pinker under the overhead room lights.

“why are there so many damned boxes?” jae questions, throwing a glare at the offencer of his pain.

brian rubs the nape of his neck sheepishly. “to be honest… i was going to move in with sungjin. had the whole place and everything. y’know what happened. he, well, didn’t come back to claim a lot of his stuff, and i was too busy with my part-time jobs and everything. thankfully, the rent here isn’t too bad,” he sniffs.

his hand is still on jae’s shoulder.

jae ignores the warmth emanating from the other’s body. as the pain dissipates ever so gradually, he peers over to check out one of the boxes, its flap open. his eyes widen at the sight of red and golden christmas balls. shiny tinsel spills out of one side of the cardboard. “woah. that’s a lot of tree decorations.”

“yeah, well,” brian chuckles. “sungjin and i went kinda overboard-”

“-in summer?-”

“-in my defence, it was a summer garage sale. some neighbours were clearing out,” he huffs, but breaks into a grin as jae admires the tinsel in awe. it’s not even bad, it’s of real high quality. brian wonders how they bought it for only a few thousand won. he watches jae, watches the gears in his head twisting. “what’s up, jaejae?”

indeed, jae’s mind cranks up with a new idea. “bribri, i have a good idea.” he scrambles to his feet (careful not to break a bone against any one of those godforsaken boxes again) and opens the rest of the boxes lying in the corner. red, green, gold. they all glitter up at jae, as if winking at him. “c’mon, get your ass over here.”

“well, alright, asshole ,” brian shoots back, but complies.

within minutes, the floor of the room is even more disarrayed - ornaments lay rolling around on the ground, a garland on the coffee table. dresdens litter their feet as jae carefully pries a golden bobble out of the box. if there’s anything jae is guilty of finding pleasure in, it’s decorating. which explains why exactly he was sparkling up his own christmas tree in his room before the call of his life (or death). even when he lives alone, he can’t shake off the longing to prop up a dazzling christmas tree all by himself.

with brian, it’s even better, the company hilarious as brian pokes himself with the star numerous times. seconds, minutes, maybe even hours tick by as jae wraps the tinsel around the tree and brian dangles the bobble balls on the branches. the tree isn’t huge by any general standards, but huge enough for the pair to find delight in filling its every space.

(sometime in between, jae drapes part of the itchy tinsel around his friend’s shoulders, laughing as brian cusses at him. jae can’t tear his eyes away from the broadness of his shoulders though, as he retrieves the tinsel from around the sweater there.

sometime in between, brian hangs a bobble on the thick, scruffy collar of jae’s sweater, giggling as jae flicks the other’s hand away. it’s domestic, he thinks, but then he catches sight of those milky collarbones and looks away. it’s domestic, he insists.)

as the clock ticks a little past half an hour, brian takes a break to produce two mugs of hot chocolate from the kitchen. when he returns, he lingers by the door for a bit, watching the outline of jae - glasses sliding down the slope of his nose, hair a mess under the knit beanie, nose scrunched in concentration. to think he’d find his way back to the other today of all days exhilarates him, gives his blood another reason to run for a handful of hours.

he shuffles over, passes a mug to jae. he earns a soft “thanks”. brian teeters on the edge of the low coffee table, gazing at the view before him as jae throws the fairy lights around the tree - the finishing touches.

taking a breather, jae takes a sip of the hot chocolate. brian knows the twitch in his eyebrows, signalling a question at the tip of the other’s tongue. when jae turns, he looks at brian, as if seeing him for the first time all over again. “brian."

“yeah?"

“are you afraid of dying? because... i think i am."

silence hangs over them for a moment. seconds tick by, precious last seconds. “honestly?” brian purses his lips together. his mind flashes back to the moment he’d seen the letters splayed across his phone screen, how he’d been scared for the first time in ages. “yeah, i am. but after today, after meeting you again… well. i don’t think i am. and, uh,” he hiccups a little, “you shouldn’t be scared, ‘cause, well. i’m here.” 

he offers a dainty smile, hoping he hasn’t gone overboard. he hardly ever reveals himself so vulnerable before people, sometimes not even sungjin or wonpil, because they’ve seen him as the overconfident, badass-ey guy from the beginning until the end. 

—

because jae first saw him, truly saw brian, when they were ten and cold and shivering in the rain at the bus stop. jae had seen fear in brian’s eyes. and brian knew he’d be safe as long as jae was there.

—

jae grins, sets the mug down as he whispers a soft “thanks.” it’s quiet, but it’s there, and brian’s heart lurches a little.

jae returns all his attention back to the fairy lights. as the amateur that he is, brian leans back to admire the other’s handiwork. when his eyes travel on their own accord, he catches the dollop of hot chocolate at the corner of his friend’s lips.

a hand is extended, arm reaching out. without warning, brian swipes his thumb across the droplet there, startling jae out of his trance. his eyes are wide, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as brian brushes his thumb there, over nothing but smooth skin now, the hot chocolate gone. jae parts his lips, and brian concludes that it’s possibly the most hauntingly beautiful thing he’s seen all day, all year. all his life.

moonlight streams through the blinds. jae blinks. and blinks again, his eyes blown wide as brian’s other hand sets the mug down clumsily on the coffee table. this can’t be happening, he thinks. fairy lights forgotten, he melts under the touch when brian lets his other hand cup jae’s cheek. his heart leaps in his chest as brian glimpses up momentarily.

brian catches dark green, a tinge of red. when did that get there?...

the angle is awkward, jae kneeling down beside the tree, brian on the edge of the coffee table, but they make it work. dazed, jae leans closer, his foot kicking out and somehow landing directly on the switch. the fairy lights pop on, the luminous glow throwing shadows on brian’s face. red, blue, orange, green. sharp jaw, strong nose, bruised cheek. wide eyes, lips perhaps sweet and wet from sugar-saturated hot chocolate.

(not that jae complains, though, as he rids of the space in between them. he kisses the guy who brought him to life on the day they’re going to die.)

as expected, it’s sweet, slow. every ounce of their energy collides as their lips meet, brushing past each other softly at first. jae’s heart leaps to his throat, the sudden desire to consume brian whole swirling in his gut. brian’s heart drops to the floor, because this, all this is all he has dreamt of since he first laid eyes on jae. this consumes brian wholly and surely.

the fairy lights flicker at them. blink, blink.

only when they pull apart do they stumble to their feet. jae’s hands find their way on brian’s hips, the flesh there soft, even under the layer of scratchy woollen fabric, brian’s fingers still tracing jae’s little cheeks. their chests heave against each other as they breathe each other in.

“brian-”

“-jae,” and then he closes the space again. the feelings he’s stomped out for so long, that fire is ignited again on the spot, dancing to a soundless beat as jae sets the other on the couch. brian’s hands shake, tracing jae’s cheeks again and again and again, the feel of him too real to be true.

he doesn’t realise he’s crying until jae brushes a tear from his eyes. the tears are ceaseless, flowing down as he lies down, brian under jae, jae over brian. it has never been this way before, but it feels like they’ve done this their whole life. a sob erupts from his throat as he brings jae’s face to his and kisses those damned lips, those lips he’s damned all fucking day.

(it’s okay, it’s fine. he trusts jae with all his might, even as they teeter over the edge.)

gently, jae presses his weight onto one knee on the sofa, the rest of his weight on the foot still in contact with the floor. their lips are past tasting, now devouring each other. the slick sound of lips against lips resounds in the echoing room (brian hasn’t had the money - or the want - to install curtains or sound-proofing in his walls. he pats himself on the back for that on this very day, at this very moment). tongues meet and intertwine, the too-sweet sweetness of each other too good not to dip into.

brian’s still crying, his chest heaving up and down as he sucks in deep breaths through his nose. smiling against their lips, jae reaches out to brush sweaty hair out of brian’s crying eyes. “hey, hey, bri. look at me, baby.” when he does, brian’s eyes are shaking, watery. jae presses kisses all over his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his eyebrows. he’s never done this before. hell, he’s never even thought about doing this before.

when their lips collide again, it’s messier; god is it messier. spit runs the corners of their mouths as their hearts burn with the longing to be closer. naturally, jae’s hands travel, resting on the other’s thighs; brian’s reach out to grab the beanie and throw it off carelessly, reach out to grab fistfuls of jae’s hair and making lewd sounds into jae’s mouth.

“fuck, brian ,” jae whispers, before he begins to press slobbery, open-mouthed kisses all long brian’s neck, the exposed skin at his neckline. underneath it, brian squirms, panting as he tries to find security in all this. his fingers dig into jae’s skin as jae swirls his tongue along the younger’s collar. “god, brian-”

“-jae, stop it,” brian pouts, and jae retracts, pulling away to smile at the other. he sets his other knee pressing against the couch, and at this point he’s straddling brian, hips against hips, leaning down; mouths against mouths. with all this, whatever this is, brian’s head swims, breathing in jae’s warmth and beauty all around.

it’s simple, quiet - they don’t quite take their hands off of each other as they stumble into brian’s bedroom. jae trips over another cardboard box, but that’s okay, because he ends up pressed against the wall with brian’s hands hovering dangerously close to his fly. they feel each other’s immovable grins against each other, hear each other’s soft sounds against each other.

it’s quite the sight when jae musters the little strength to push brian onto the bed (queen bed), brian giving in naturally as they latch back onto each other. as if they’re inseparable. brian thinks he never wants to let jae go, never wants to forget this moment as jae wriggles out of his sweater. he savours the sight, of pale untouched skin, long torso and smooth lines running all along his forearms, hidden under those sleeves. even when jae writhes under the attention, brian looks at him like he’s wanted this for years. and for years he has.

sometime in between kisses against bare stomachs, jae yanks brian’s sweater off, only to breathe shakily at the sight of his long-lost childhood friend. the cute dollop of fat near his hip makes him giggle, but the rest of brian is broad and wide and strong, from his firm arms down to the dust of hair disappearing into his… jae blushes. hard.

“you okay?” jae whispers. brian’s stopped crying, tear stains still evidently splayed across his cheeks.

“yeah,” he replies back. “i want this.”

sometime in between kissing down thighs and ripping open the packet carelessly found in the bottom dresser drawer, jae realises the one thing he would’ve regretted if he hadn’t met brian, joined to him like this. he chuckles to himself. god, would he kill himself if he had died a virgin tonight, but that’s okay, because now he hears brian’s and his heavy breaths and skin against skin and that’s okay, that’s okay, that’s okay. this is okay.

they’re okay.

—

22:09

when they’ve lathed each other in shampoo and soap and let warm water rinse over the both of them, they towel-dry each other, their movements slowed. jae savours the way brian dries his hair; brian drinks in the way jae pulls the spiderman sweatshirt, the one from his dad, over brian’s head. the hem of it thumps against his thighs - even after all these years, jae is still taller, still good-looking, too much of everything to be true.

but it is.

the pair of them clamber onto the bed, swathed in thick bedsheets. all that is heard is the shuffling of the sheets, their laboured breathing as jae pulls the other along; in the end, brian’s back faces him, and they’re chest-to-back, jae’s long gangly arms coming to wrap around brian’s waist tightly. he rests his head on a shoulder, warm breath tickling the shell of brian’s ear.

time seems to slow down. brian feels his eyelids heavier, threatening to close, but it’s his last hour; he wants to stay awake through it all, stay awake through jae and jae’s breathing and jae’s liveliness - they’re alive and thriving.

“today has been beautiful,” jae kisses the little mole on brian’s neck.

“yeah,” he whispers back, so quietly he swears jae almost doesn’t catch it.

the hand at his waist traces the smallest circles against his skin. their cold ankles latch onto each other under the layers of bedsheets.

“you okay?”

“yeah.”

brian shuffles, turns over like a turtle to face jae’s bare face, spectacle-less. he takes in the sight as he always has, but this time it’s more special, more memorable, because this just might be the last time he’ll see jae, jae, jae. “i have a last-minute confession,” he spits out the words lodged in his throat for the entirety of the past few hours. “and it doesn’t matter if you don’t feel the same, because i’ll be damned if i don’t tell you this before i die.”

“before we die,” jae points out, chuckling dryly, but his eyes are serious. “what’s up?”

“i love you.” the words are out, spilled past his lips. brian watches his friend who brought him to life again, watches his eyes widen a fraction, but he doesn’t stop there. “no, actually, i’ve loved you since high school. the kid who chewed artificial watermelon-flavoured bubblegum because he’s allergic to fruits with his chunky walkman in because he couldn’t afford anything else at the time. the kid who saw me through my ups and downs in high school. the kid who asked my seniors to fuck off when i was tormented into doing their homework? yeah. i was in love with him. and now, i’m in love with you.” he reaches out to tenderly take jae in, savouring the taste of mint toothpaste on his lips (jae has, in fact, objected against ignoring his dental health. even in death do we keep our teeth white and neat , he proclaims.)

through his hazy vision, jae blinks slowly, the blurry image of brian before him. it sharpens momentarily when brian leans in for his sake. “dude,” he breathes.

“yeah, well,” brian giggles, and jae still thinks it’s the most adorable thing to exist. “sorry-”

“-don’t be,” jae interrupts. he clears his throat. when he leans in closer, their hearts beat as one, together, against each other. “people have their time stamps on how long you should know someone before earning the right to say it, but i wouldn’t lie to you no matter how little time we have. people waste time and wait for the right moment and we don’t have the luxury. if we had our entire lives ahead of us i’d bet you’d get tired of me telling you how much i love you because i’m positive that’s the path we were heading on. but because we’re about to die, i want to say it as many times as i want - i love you, i love you, i love you.”

—

22:15

“i can’t believe i started my death day beating up someone because he’s dating my ex and now i’m in bed with an awesome dude i’ve loved perhaps my whole life,” brian bites back a cry, but it’s useless, because tears keep rushing down his cheeks now. he looks wrecked, and jae pulls him into a hug, holds him tight. brian hiccups. “i love you more, y’know.”

22:16

“i know.”

22:17

“what would we have done differently if we hadn’t met?” brian asks quietly.

somewhere beyond his windowsill, fireworks are still exploding in the midst of the snowy night. “hm,” jae mumbles, turning it over in his head, gears cranking. “i would’ve chickened out, stayed at home. you would’ve hung out with wonpil before pushing him away, and then returning home to lock yourself up. glad to see we changed each other’s endings in the end, huh,” he muses.

he’s right. he’s right about everything.

brian kisses his childhood friend, his best friend, because the world can’t be against them if it brought them together.

22:34

brian knows the other’s asleep already, heavy breathing punctuated by low grunts, just like himself nine years ago. still, he kisses the nape of his neck and whispers quietly. if he’d noticed jae still awake, he doesn’t make a move.

“i almost forgot. merry christmas, jae.”

merry christmas, brian.

—

23:23

the next time jae wakes up, the voices he hear aren’t christmas carols sung sweetly along the pavements, aren’t fireworks or cheers.

they’re screams.

jae shuffles awake for a moment, but he feels the body next to him move, brian reaching out to hold him down. muffled by the sheets, brian murmurs, “what is it, jaejae?” his voice is croaky, having just woken up, and even in the midst of the situation, he thinks he’s in love with the other’s morning - midnight? - voice.

“i think…” we’re going to die . the room is five times hotter than it was before, and it’s no way it’s the heater doing the trick. jae’s heart stops in his chest the second he sees a trail of grey smoke curl in through the cracks in the bedroom doorway. lifting his head up, brian catches sight of this, too. the hand over his wrist squeezes in response.

“jae,” brian whispers. jae turns to see him, one last time. the crinkle in the corners of his eyes almost makes his heart physically hurt, torn out and useless. “rest your bones with me, yeah?”

and he does. ever so gradually, jae sinks back into the bed, the thoughts running his head on full swing. if they moved, would they survive? if they tried, would they not die? DEATH-CAST never did prove itself wrong, however, whoever it is, whatever it is. so he sinks back down with little hesitance, little reluctance, instead diving into brian’s deep embrace and the last kiss on his lips, on his nose, on his forehead.

the last thing jae sees before his eyes is brian, brian, brian , before his world is consumed.