Work Text:
what you’re feeling
it’s what I’m feeling too
what you’re made of
it’s what I’m made of too
01 He’d woken late without time to brush his hair, but he cleaned his teeth; and wearing the same rumpled shirt from the night before—a checked button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows—Taekwoon stormed from his dorm on the third floor to the language building halfway across campus. Fresh snow had fallen overnight and covered the Common like a thin blanket of down; powdery white beneath his shoes, caked to his soles, to the toes. He stomped his feet in the hallway before entering the classroom, but still trailed water behind him. His knee ached horribly.
Only a few students looked his way when he stepped in, quiet as a mouse; the teacher, a young woman not much older than he gave him a sullen nod as he sank into his seat. He’d forgotten his folder beside his bed and had to make due with a spiral notebook, a ballpoint pen; both aged. The pages of the notebook were water damaged from being kicked beneath his bed and left there for weeks; they crinkled loudly each time he turned them. And every time he looked to the front of the room, teacher would catch his eye in warning as if she were going to call on him for the next answer, but she never did. It was possible she could tell to keep her distance—perhaps she had finally heard what had happened. Sports injuries hardly went unnoticed for long at Bugil University, since they prided themselves in their athletics. Taekwoon had been proud once too.
Someone coughed feebly beside him, there was the sound of a pencil dropping; Taekwoon was unsure if the classroom was quieter today than it usually was, or if he was more tuned to the sounds around him. It could have been the headache blossoming above his left eye, or the confusion of his cramped thoughts; it could have been the pain that shot from his leg every time he moved it, or the cold that seemed to seep into the marrow of his freshly healed bone, sprouting chills on the nape of his neck. When there was too much on his mind, it seemed the smallest of things would catch his attention—anything, really, to keep him away from the problems at hand. He thought of his mother—what would he tell her? or his father for that matter? He didn’t return Taekwoon’s calls very often, but this would be one he’d surely answer. Never mind that four weeks had already passed, that Taekwoon no longer used crutches, that his financial aid was running out; that his scholarship had been diminished two weeks ago. He didn’t want to make that call. He didn’t want to do anything.
Someone tapped his arm lightly. ‘Excuse me?’
Taekwoon looked to them wordlessly; and wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Jaehwan, rose colored cheeks and chapped lips, staring eagerly back at him. They didn’t know each other on any personal level, wouldn’t even know each other’s names if it weren’t for the class they shared, but this wasn’t the first time—and certainty wouldn’t be the last—that Jaehwan had tapped him in the middle of a lecture.
'What?' Taekwoon said softly.
'I forgot the French word for Cultural,' and he smiled as if it was the damnedest thing. 'Can you believe that? Ha, anyway. Do you know it?'
'Culturelle.’
'Huh.' He looked at his paper, scribbled something out and wrote something else in its place. 'Thanks.' And as if his rewritten word was enough work for the day, Jaehwan set his pen aside and angled himself toward the large classroom windows. Outside: the snow still fell, though lightly—it was early for winter and Taekwoon didn't think the cold would stay for long; and with his chin cupped in his palm, fingers tapping idly on his desk, Jaehwan closed off all four corners of the room and everyone within them; slouched slightly, and sighed.
Taekwoon watched him for a moment longer, envious of the careless air that flowed off Jaehwan like a physical thing; then turned back to his own worksheet. He felt beaten by his burdens.
-
That evening: he showered and changed into a new top, a small grid patterned button up stiff with starch, freshly washed black jeans and a pair of boots that were supposed to keep his feet warm from the cold snow, but already it had stopped falling. The ground soaked up what water was left behind as the ice melted; and Taekwoon, limping hastily over the Common and toward the office buildings at the front of campus, was chilled to his bones—and it wasn’t from the lingering cold.
Telephones that looked like payphones lined one wall of the vast office building, and only a few were in use. Taekwoon took the one farthest from the rest of the room, found himself tucked in a corner beside a dark window that only reflected his own haggard face. He turned his back to the glass, dialed his father’s number. He had a cell phone and at this moment it was in his back pocket, full service bars and a charged battery, but he never used it to call home.
Voicemail. He had expected this.
'Dad—' he cleared his throat— 'I've something to tell you. It's important. Uh, something we have to discuss, but don't get excited. It isn't—' crucial? because it was. ‘I’ll call again. Or you can call me —No, you can’t actually, can you?’ Nervous laugh; dead giveaway. He covered it with a cough. ‘I’ll call again. Tomorrow, or the day after. Same time.’ And as easy as 1, 2, 3: nothing accomplished, demise prolonged. Taekwoon leaned his back to the window and hung his head.
-
He didn’t call the next day, or the day after that. He went to class and pretended all was well. He decided he’d get a job once his knee stopped hurting so badly. Maybe sell his soul; something like that.
-
'You really don't have to do this,' Taekwoon said uncomfortably.
Hakyeon, sat in a overstuffed chair adjacent to the one Taekwoon occupied, was kneading Taekwoon’s leg: massaging his thigh, his calf, touching carefully around the problem area. ‘What’s the point of studying med,’ he began, ‘if I can’t help you a little?’
His fingers were thin and nimble; and they helped an awful lot more than Taekwoon would admit aloud. He shifted in his seat, covered his eyes with one hand; anything to become small in the large library where so many students were studying for end of term exams. He felt like everyone was watching them.
'Really, Hakyeon…' he moved his leg but a shot of pain had him gasping sharply, freezing every inch of his body; and how hard it was to stay motionless when it was motion that caused the pain.
'See?' Hakyeon said gently. 'Let me finish.'
Silence, not uncomfortable but demanding in its arrival; Taekwoon let his head fall on the back of his chair, looked toward the tall windows and the swaying trees outside: a harsh night wind that almost promised rain. He winced when Hakyeon spoke again.
'How did your dad take it?'
'Fine.'
'You haven't talked to him yet, have you?'
Taekwoon didn’t respond.
'Do you think if you ignore it long enough this will all go away?' There was nothing condescending about the way he spoke; it was a genuine question. 'It might, if you play your cards right, but let's face it, Taekwoon,' and he smiled, 'you aren't very charming.'
'What are you talking about? Everything I do is charming.' The dull way he said this failed to make it a joke.
'I can talk to my dad if you want? He can help with your financial aid, and probably with the scholarship too. I mean, he works on the board after all and they owe him quite a lot for helping keep this place open.'
'No.'
'I'll talk to my dad,' he said again, finality in his voice. When Taekwoon offered no response, not even eye contact, Hakyeon began to fidget. 'Listen…' he leaned forward in his seat. 'If you can't come to me for this kind of help, then who can you go to? We've known each other long enough. We're like brothers, aren't we?'
Stiff sigh. ‘Yes.’
'So? It isn't like you'll have to owe me. What kind of friend would I be if I made you owe me something?'
Taekwoon chewed listlessly on the inside of his cheek.
'Hey—'
He looked to Hakyeon from the corner of his eye.
'Let me help you,' he said with all the fear of a mother whose child was drifting farther from her. 'You used to let me help all the time. Now you wanna do things on your own. I get that, I do, but there are things that—'
'I'm gonna go for a walk,' Taekwoon said as he rose to his feet, ignoring the hurt in his leg. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head.
'You shouldn't do that. The cold's gonna hurt you more. You're only gonna make yourself more uncomfortable.'
'I'll go for a walk,' he said sternly this time. 'And I'll talk to you tomorrow.' He gave Hakyeon's shoulder a tight squeeze as he passed by, letting him know that he wasn't angry, and he wasn't ungrateful. It was only that too much was happening all at once; he was suffocating.
-
His coat hardly kept him warm, but after ten minutes on the campus trail the wind began to die down considerably; it blew only faint ripples across the front of his cotton shirt. He made it out of the courtyard and off campus completely before his knee began to hound him; pulsing pain that grew with every passing minute, and he: standing in the middle of a road, though a deserted one. It was used mostly by faculty, but at this time of night it lay like a lonely backdrop to the schoolyard.
He thought of turning back and going to bed, but he didn’t want to be near anyone. If it were possible—and it was hard in college—he’d like to be miserable alone. And so with a heavy sigh, Taekwoon collapsed on the road with his legs stretched out before him. He massaged the part of his thigh nearest his knee and felt the prickles of sleeping nerves, discomfort as it worsened.
Cursing lowly to himself, Taekwoon lay flat on his back; body stretched like the five points of a star. The pale face of the moon was dim, almost unseen beneath its blanket of cumulus, but he could see the clouds moving with the wind; wondered: what if a car came? Would it stop before it ran him over, or would fate add that to his collection of poorly things? He imagined it just might.
Left arm draped over his stomach, right hand balled in a fist; he turned his head away from the school and looked out toward the dark fields so large they touched the horizon. Something wet lightly touched his cheek; a raindrop. He brushed it away and stared at his wet fingers, laughed quietly himself; genuine humor this time, because really this outcome was not surprising in the least.
Another drop fell, and another; until it was a steady flow of water all over him and he was forced to sit up, to sit there on the road in the rain feeling his coat heavy on his shoulders as it grew wet. His black hair was matted to his head, hard to see now through the sheet of water; he never noticed Jaehwan walking from campus and out onto the road.
'What the hell are you doing?' He didn't have an umbrella, and so held his coat over his head to keep himself dry. It did little good for him. 'Are you alright?'
Taekwoon stared in a daze, unsure what to say, and embarrassed by his appearance.
'I'm fine,' he muttered and tried to stand, but the pain had not gone away and he groaned loudly despite himself.
'Hey.' Jaehwan took his arm; Taekwoon shrugged him off. 'I'm only trying to help,' he said softly.
'I don't need help.'
'Well, you kinda look like you do.' He stood there, waiting; and when Taekwoon made no other attempt to stand, Jaehwan cautiously, as if afraid to be bitten by a wild animal, held out his hand. Obvious relief flooded over him when Taekwoon took it. 'There you go. All better.' He smiled brightly. 'God, you're soaked though, and you're shivering.'
'It's cold.'
'Yeah, well, that's what happens when you lie in the road. In the rain.' He was the only one who laughed. 'Uh, sorry? Anyway. Here—' he held out his coat so that it covered the both of them. Taekwoon didn't bother to point out the fact that Jaehwan was soaked as well.
'You live in the dorms, don't you?' he asked.
Taekwoon nodded.
'Are you going back there? You don't really look like you want to. By the way,are you okay? Not everyone just lies around on the ground outside, you know? But you don’t actually have to answer that. I know I probably sound like I’m snooping.’ Here, incredulously, he paused. ‘Sorry about that.’ He looked toward the school, oblivious to Taekwoon’s bewilderment. He’d never heard someone say so much in such a short window of time.
'Are you going back?' Jaehwan asked again.
'Probably not.'
'Want to come with me then? I have an apartment. One of those off-campus ones. It's pretty close, just up the hill that way—' he pointed, the coat fell on Taekwoon's head; Jaehwan laughed. 'Sorry. Anyway, it's close. If you can't walk, well.. I can't carry you. I'm not very strong—'
'I'm fine.'
'Fine to walk? So you want to come?'
Taekwoon didn’t know what to say, which question to answer or if there was a certain answer Jaehwan wanted to hear. He simply stood with his hands at his sides, favoring his left leg. His failure to reply only prompted Jaehwan to continue.
'I have coffee. Or tea, if you're into tea. People are mostly into coffee though. At least it's warm, right? You won't be so cold, and maybe you'll stop shivering so much.'
With a heavy sigh that first raised his shoulders then collapsed them into a slouch, Taekwoon whispered, ‘Okay.’
He didn’t know then, just as he doesn’t know now, what made him follow Jaehwan home like some lost puppy looking for a quiet place to stay. Only he’d soon learn that nothing was really quiet when Jaehwan was around.
-
Together they walked slowly, Taekwoon because of his knee and Jaehwan because of Taekwoon. It seemed he’d rather stand longer in the rain, taking painfully slow steps to stay in sync with Taekwoon than get home into the dry warmth of his apartment. Taekwoon was touched by this, but mostly he was annoyed. He never knew how to react when people were nice to him, and though Jaehwan wasn’t a stranger he may as well have been; his niceness struck Taekwoon deeply. It was as unnerving as it was endearing.
'You know, if we didn't have French together I probably would have left you out there,' Jaehwan said. 'Or maybe I would have asked if you were alright, then left. But you seem like a good guy, always giving me answers and stuff. I appreciate that, by the way. I don't think I've ever actually told you thank you.' He seemed embarrassed by this discovering; his head lowered, voice softened. 'You're nice. And, well, I've seen you around before. I mean—' he laughed— 'I don't, like, watch you or anything, but I used to go to the soccer games at the beginning of the year. You play really well.'
Taekwoon, who had been listening quietly but not very closely to this monologue, paused stiffly in his walking. He hadn’t meant to, but it happened anyway; Jaehwan noticed immediately.
'Shit. I'm sorry. Did I say something bad? Was I out of line?'
Taekwoon gently said, ‘No. You’re fine.’
'Is that why you were lying in the road?'
'Why are you so concerned with that?'
As if startled by the question, Jaehwan gnawed his lower lip. ‘I don’t know,’ he finally said. They continued in silence.
-
'Here we are. Good thing I live on the bottom floor. You wouldn't wanna try climbing those massive stairs with your bummed leg.'
'My leg isn't bummed.'
'If you say so.'
The front door opened up on a small living room, warm and cozy with battered blue carpets and dormer windows. A coffee table sat in the middle of the room beside a love-seat so tattered it must have been provided with the apartment itself; paperbacks on the table, on the floor. Though the room wasn’t messy it was cluttered: shoes stacked by the door, a tea cup left on the coffee table, more on the kitchen counters. Christmas lights hung over the windows, burning impossibly white when Jaehwan turned them on.
From the kitchen: a cluttering of glass and plastic things as Jaehwan cleared the counters. ‘Did you say you wanted coffee or tea?’
'Coffee, please.' Taekwoon ran his fingers over the books left out in the open, picked one up that lay face down, spine bent. For the next couple of months the book would fall open to this exact page every time it was set down.
'I take it black,' Taekwoon said after a short while. 'So you know.'
Jaehwan poked his head from the kitchen. ‘Cool. It’ll be a minute, though.’ He joined Taekwoon in the living room with a dish towel in his hands, drying wet fingers. It was then he seemed to realize they were both still sopping wet. ‘Hey, do you want some dry clothes to change into?’ And when Taekwoon didn’t answer: ‘They’re clean. I promise.’
Taekwoon laughed, a soft little sound that made Jaehwan smile. ‘Alright.’
'They might fit you weirdly, I don't know. I have a couple shirts that are a little big for me, so I'll grab those.'
And some minutes later they sat together on the love-seat with their coffee cooling on coasters. Taekwoon wore a pair of sweat pants that were a tad too short in the legs, but otherwise comfortable; and a shirt so big it kept sliding from his right shoulder. He tired of fixing it and ultimately let it be.
'Is this any good?' Taekwoon asked, reaching for the paperback that had been facedown. He had replaced it to its original state, but now used his thumb to keep the page bookmarked.
'Oh, I don't know. I haven't read it.'
'Then why's this page kept open?'
Jaehwan laughed like he’d heard a particularly funny joke. ‘I actually dropped it? Like, it fell that way and I just left it there. It’s been there for weeks.’
'Oh.'
'I heard it's good though,' he added hastily. 'That's why I bought it. Whenever I get around to it, I'll let you know.'
Taekwoon set it back on the table, took his coffee instead. He was nearly silent when he said: ‘Thanks.. for this.’
'The coffee? No problem.'
'No.'
'Oh, you mean picking you up off the floor?' Jaehwan laughed again—he was always laughing. Was there anything he didn't find amusing? 'Don't worry about that either. I couldn't leave you there. Bad for ethics.'
Taekwoon smiled at that, and he wasn’t sure why. Sip of his coffee, it was too hot; he drank it anyway. ‘Where can I smoke?’
-
Sat in lawn chairs by the open window, they shared a cigarette that Taekwoon was sure Jaehwan didn’t want. He’d make a face, scrunch his nose, not even inhaling; but Taekwoon didn’t mention it. And at half ten that evening as Jaehwan looked for something in his room, Taekwoon lay on the couch with book from the coffee table open above him, reading quickly at first but eyes slowing to a crawl across words as sleep crept into him. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, not there anyway, not so far from the dorms, and certainly not in another boys apartment, but here he was: waking with morning light filtering though bare windows. There was a pillow beneath his leg, one under his head; both hadn’t been there when he’d fallen asleep; and he would have laughed now had his body not ached so much.
He turned on his side and there on the table: two aspirin and a glass of water. Taekwoon chewed the side of his mouth and watched the pills as if he expected them to disappear, like a mirage, like wishful thinking, but they never did. And when he took them, he felt the pain ebb almost instantly—but he was sure that it was only in his head.
02 It was a Tuesday. The rain had stopped over the weekend and was replaced by snow that melted before it touched the ground. Taekwoon, with a thermos of coffee, lit an unfiltered cigarette. Gymnopédie No. 2 played from his headphones, softly, distantly; only background noise as he studied the practice exam laid on the table before him. This early in the morning and the Common was empty save for the janitor who passed Taekwoon’s table with something like scorn in his eyes, as if he expected Taekwoon to drop the cigarette only to watch him pick it up.
'Hey,' Taekwoon heard softly over his music.
Looking up, finding there, loomed over him like a bird of prey: Jaehwan, with a thin scarf wrapped about his neck. He dropped a book on the table beside Taekwoon’s test, sat down. ‘I meant to bring that for you earlier, but I kept forgetting.’
It was the book from the coffee table, The Secret History.
'I saw you were reading it.' Jaehwan opened the book to the page Taekwoon had bent almost in half. 'Bad habit, you know?' he said this without contempt. 'Anyway, I'll probably never actually get around to it. Or if I do it'll be, like, next year or something. So you can read it first.'
'No, that's alri—'
'I know you wanna read it.' Jaehwan shoved the book closer. 'And it isn't like I'll never see you again, right? Just give it back when you're done.' Brilliant smile with crescent eyes. 'What are you listening to?'
'Satie.'
'Is it any good?'
'Yes.'
'Can I hear?'
Taekwoon nodded and just as soon as he did, Jaehwan took a headphone from Taekwoon’s ear to place in his own. He sat with his body angled, head tilted as if the cord wasn’t long enough to reach across the small space between them. It was.
'There's something I wanted to ask you,' Jaehwan said, letting the headphone fall from his ear. 'That music's really sad by the way. Do you only listen to sad things?'
'No.'
'Are you being sarcastic?'
Scoffing softly. ‘It’s easier to study when the songs don’t have words.’
'Yeah, alright. Anyway. My friend Wonsik's having a, uh, a party, I guess? Tonight. I mean, I wouldn’t call it a party, but maybe you would. And his boyfriend’s gonna be there, and it isn’t that I don’t like his boyfriend or anything, just that when they’re together it’s kinda like.. I’m not there. You know? So, if you went with me, then that’d be pretty cool.’
'You want me to go?'
Nodding. ‘Please? There’s gonna be beer. Do you like beer?’
'We have class tomorrow.'
'That's why it's not really a party.' Jaehwan inched closer. 'A lot of people probably won't show up.'
'Why do you wanna go if they're only going to ignore you?'
With an exasperated sigh, Jaehwan slumped. ‘If you don’t want to go, all you have to do is say no. I won’t be, like, upset—’
'I'll go.'
He lit up; smile as bright as the sky. ‘Really? Can I have your number?’
'I—' Taekwoon stared at him. 'What for?'
'To talk to you? I don't know. Tell you where it is? I can meet you somewhere, actually, if you'd rather do that.'
Wordlessly, Taekwoon tore a corner from his notebook, scribbled his cell number in hard to read script. And once with the paper in his hand, Jaehwan stood.
'Cool. I'll call you. Text you? Something like that.' Turning away, he paused. 'Wear something nice. Not that you don't always look nice or anything, but maybe something not as dressed up? It's a college party so, like, loosen up a bit.' He pulled his scarf over his mouth as if to stop himself from talking. 'I'll see you tonight.'
-
Jaehwan had been right: it really wasn’t a party. Held in an off-campus apartment on the third floor, Taekwoon had had a hard time on the stairs, but swallowed his discomfort as not to worry Jaehwan. And maybe to also avoid the influx of questions he’d surely ask.
People Taekwoon didn’t know, all scattered around the small rooms; many in the kitchen where Jaehwan’s friend Wonsik was leaned against a counter his boyfriend, a boy with dark hair named Hongbin, sat kicking his legs.
'I think I've seen you,' Wonsik said. 'You're on the soccer team.'
Taekwoon cleared his throat. ‘Was.’
'Oh? What happened?'
Taekwoon stuffed his hands in his pockets, chin to his chest. Jaehwan broke in quickly with a loud: ‘Where’s the beer?’ that Taekwoon was greatly thankful for.
'The fridge,' Hongbin told him. 'Where else?' He had a smile almost wider than Jaehwan's.
Standing there awkwardly alone as Jaehwan left him for the drinks, Taekwoon watched his feet as Wonsik moved to stand between Hongbin’s legs. They were whispering to each other in voices not so hard to hear; Taekwoon made an effort to ignore them. He puffed out his cheeks, shoulders bunched around his ears, and looking toward Jaehwan he found him laughing quietly against the back of his hand. He motioned for Taekwoon to follow him.
'They get like that,' Jaehwan said as he handed Taekwoon a beer. 'Hey, don't let me drink a lot, okay? Like, two tops. Or else I'm gonna be hungover tomorrow and I don't want that.'
They sat in the stairwell outside, Jaehwan on the step beneath Taekwoon’s; and the cold was agitating his knee, but Taekwoon wouldn’t acknowledge it unless it got unbearable.
'I don't even really like drinking,' Jaehwan said as he ironically took a giant gulp. 'It isn't that it tastes bad, but it's kind of boring. I mean, if the company is intimate then I'm sure it's fine, but when you don't know a whole lot of people it's only uncomfortable. People get really weird sometimes. Do you get weird?'
'I don't know. I don't do it that often.'
'Well, I guess that's good. At least we have that in common.' He took another drink, set the can down between his feet; and resting his elbow on Taekwoon's thigh—something Taekwoon didn't think he was entirely aware of doing—he asked: 'Are you going to tell me your story now?'
Taekwoon hesitated. ‘Story?’
'Yeah. Like, where you're from, what you're doing. What you're studying, uh, why you're studying it. That sort of thing.'
'Oh. …No.'
'No?' He was unperturbed. 'Alright. I'll tell you mine, then.'
Taekwoon laughed softly into his drink, downed half of it in a single pull, and winced at the taste; bitter on his tongue, he washed it down with a cigarette. With his beer in one hand, chin cradled in the other, he listened only half as well as he watched.
Jaehwan talked about his father first, forehead creased; eyes small and squinted. He was a lawyer who had wanted Jaehwan to study law as well, but a subject so boring—his words, not Taekwoon’s—he simply couldn’t do it.
Mouth pulled down in a deep frown, he said: ‘I figured language would be good enough. I mean, I could get an average job but paid nicely for it. Whatever. Want another drink?’ He left before Taekwoon answered, and returned shortly after. It was like he hadn’t left at all. ‘I’m taking German along with French,’ he said this proudly. ‘I studied Japanese in high school, but I can’t write it worth a damn. Maybe next year I’ll do Russian.’
'Why Russian?'
He shrugged, opened a beer and gave it to Taekwoon. ‘I guess because they don’t use the Roman alphabet. I don’t really like it that much —can I have some of that?’
Taekwoon stared at him for a long moment, never realizing he had said something. He eventually startled. ‘What?’
'The cigarette.'
'Oh.' It was out. 'I'll light you another.'
Passing the cigarette between them, Jaehwan told him about his family’s house in Gangnam, the vacation home not far from campus, and the house he’d grown up in Busan. His father owned even more properties, but he seemed reluctant to talk about them.
'My dad's a real prick though. I don't really know how to communicate with him.'
Taekwoon, leaning on the guardrail, hummed his agreement. He rubbed at his eyes, heavy-lidded and tired, and very suddenly found himself thinking of his own father, something he didn’t want to think about; and so forcing his thoughts elsewhere—to the practice exam back in his dorm—he realized he simply didn’t want to think at all. He’d had only two beers but already he felt dizzy, too relaxed to get any real studying done; and it could have been because how loose he felt, comfortable even, that when Jaehwan began speaking again, Taekwoon said over him: ‘You talk a lot.’ He wasn’t unkind about it, but Jaehwan’s face fell anyway.
Taekwoon perked up just a bit. ‘I don’t mean anything bad by that. Just that maybe.. give yourself a rest.’
Laughing: ‘Are you telling me to shut up?’ Feigning offense, he buried his face into his arm, the one still resting on Taekwoon’s thigh. ‘You don’t say very much,’ his voice was muffled. ‘So I feel like I gotta say more.’
'Why do you have to talk at all? What are you afraid of?'
'I don't know,' he whined like a child. 'I don't want you to feel weird around me.'
'There's nothing weird about being quiet.' Taekwoon wasn't sure when he'd done it, but he suddenly found his hand on the back of Jaehwan's neck. Light touch, fingers in his hair. He rest his head to the railing and let his eyes fall shut; and it was in this silence he had stupidly urged that Taekwoon realized Jaehwan's ramblings, though largely confusing and hard to follow, were what kept him from his own troubles: he thought of his father again, the call he had never returned, the trip home that coming winter that would surely be sabotaged by the news he had to deliver; and what felt to be the most important: merciless pain in his knee that had worsened from the time spent outside.
'Are you gonna come home with me?' Jaehwan asked after a short time. His voice was soft, drowsy.
He wanted to. But, ‘Class tomorrow.’
'Right.'
'I'll get a cab.'
And twenty minutes later: by the side of the road, leaning against the car in favor of his knee, Taekwoon briefly touched the side of Jaehwan’s face without meaning to. Before he could say goodnight, Jaehwan had him pulled into a hug too long to be casual. He held Taekwoon’s shoulders like he wasn’t ever going to let go.
'I'll see you in class,' he said against the side of Taekwoon's face; and all at once: he was gone, taking a step back, smiling. 'You had fun, right?'
'It was nice. Next time, though, maybe we can get coffee instead.'
'Are you asking me out?'
'No.' And with the cab door standing like a wall between them: 'Well, I don't know. Maybe.' He shut the door before Jaehwan could say anything more.
-
Jaehwan started coming by the dorms before class; he’d sit on the edge of Taekwoon’s bed, flip through his magazines; touch his trophies and medals and ask when he’d gotten them, how old he was. It was a few days, but eventually he’d caught on that Taekwoon didn’t like talking about sports much anymore. He left the trophies alone and began picking through Taekwoon’s wardrobe, cracking small jokes about the endless row of black shirts; he’d asked why Taekwoon only owned button-ups and even tried on a few. Taekwoon pretended not to care about the wrinkles left on the sleeves when Jaehwan would bunch them up his arms, thoughtlessly.
They studied their French together, watched films on Taekwoon’s laptop with their arms pillowed under their heads; and some nights, though there weren’t many, Jaehwan would fall asleep with his head on Taekwoon’s shoulder, sometimes with his leg thrown over Taekwoon’s hip. And on the nights he’d wake up from Taekwoon trying to move him, he’d mutter a soft apology and turn on his side, turn away with his knees to his chest and his body made small. On nights like these, when Jaehwan would face his back to him, Taekwoon would watch the subtle rise of his shoulders as he took shallow, sleepy breaths; and he’d think of how badly he’d want to put his arm around Jaehwan’s middle, to press his chest to his back, and to hold him close in the small, cold bed. Eventually Taekwoon would roll onto his own side, and with their backs facing one another, they’d sleep apart.
-
'It's snowing,' Jaehwan said one evening, peeking through the vertical blinds that covered Taekwoon's window.
'It's been snowing. All week.’
'Yeah, but this time it's actually on the ground. Look.' And it was; three inches at least. It covered not only the courtyard, but the benches and tables too; an inch or more left on the railings by the rec room doors.
'Want to go outside?' Jaehwan asked.
'For what?'
'To play in it.'
'You want to play in the snow? What are you? Five?'
'Yes.'
How could Taekwoon argue with that? So: fifteen minutes later, appropriately bundled up in scarves and sweaters and gloves they’d taken from the bottom of Taekwoon’s trunk (it was still packed to the brim with his winter clothes), Taekwoon followed Jaehwan’s lead into the courtyard now left empty. It was a quarter past nine in the evening and on a school night, most students were inside studying, or reading, or simply sleeping off their headaches.
'If you throw that,' Taekwoon began lowly as Jaehwan packed a small snowball between his hands, 'I'll throw you.’
'No you wont.'
'Try it.'
Bottom lip bit into his mouth, eyes narrowed playfully—Taekwoon could practically see the gears turning in Jaehwan’s head; and he thought: he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t dare—but then his face was cold and his eyes were shut and snow was in his mouth; somewhere far off Jaehwan was laughing.
Taekwoon charged at him before the snow was even brushed from his face; mouth pinched tightly shut as he darted across the courtyard. Jaehwan had already put a good distance between them, and laughing as he ran, he stooped down, scooped up a handful of snow and threw it over his shoulder. None of it hit Taekwoon, but the action alone was enough to fuel him to a run a bit faster; and with his arm outstretched, trying hard not to laugh, he felt his fingers brush the back of Jaehwan’s jacket.
Then his knee buckled.
And his leg gave out.
And he found himself falling with his arms out to catch himself, but they didn’t; and he got a fresh face of snow. He’d have felt like an idiot, but pain blossomed up his leg and into the pit of stomach; it made it hard to feel like anything.
'You alright?' Jaehwan asked, suddenly knelt by his side. He was panting, eyes glimmering; and on his face: nothing but concern.
Taekwoon lay on his back, looking at the sky because he didn’t want to look at Jaehwan. He muttered, ‘I’m fine.’
'Is it your knee?'
No answer at first. Then: ‘It’s only because I ran. I haven’t done that in a while.’
'Does it bother you a lot?'
Glaring, ‘Why do you care?’ and instantly feeling like an asshole. Taekwoon sighed. ‘No, not really. It’s better than it was.’
'Want to go inside?' Jaehwan asked softly.
'I want a cigarette first.'
Jaehwan lit it for him; and sitting on the ground across from each other, he built a tiny snowman between his legs.
'Break's coming up,' he said conversationally, poking holes into his snowman's face. 'Have any plans? Going home. Anything like that?'
Taekwoon shifted. ‘No.’
'Why not?'
'I don't feel like it.'
'You don't get along with your family?'
Taekwoon looked at him briefly, sighed. ‘It isn’t like that.’
'Oh.' Jaehwan brought his legs to his chest, hugged them tightly with his face pressed to his knees. 'Sorry if that sounded rude or something.' He waited a long moment before asking: 'Where are you staying then?'
'The dorms, probably. If they'll allow it. I haven't spoken with—'
'You should stay with me.'
'Should I?' He said this in a tone so casual it could have been mistaken for mockery. Staring at the lit end of his cigarette, Taekwoon wondered how long two weeks would feel once left in a small—but not cramped—apartment with Jaehwan. Would he have time to read? Would there be silence at all? Where would he sleep? He imagined he'd stay on the couch, but thought of how badly he'd feel every morning with a stiff neck and aching joints. He also thought about morning tea, and coffee in the evenings; he thought of watching movies with Jaehwan talking over the characters and ruining the endings. Taekwoon was surprised to find himself smiling, and quickly took a drag to conceal his face. Smoke coiled from his mouth in a long, thin stream.
'Sure,' he said quietly after what felt like a long time. Jaehwan had gotten fussy; the snowman lay in a dismantled heap. The only evidence that it'd ever been there was a round glob of snow that Taekwoon patted down before Jaehwan could think to throw it at him.
'Wednesday, then!' Jaehwan made little effort to hide his excitement. He spoke loudly, quickly; color had flooded his face, rosy cheeks and bright eyes. 'Since it's the last day for classes. Pack a bag. Or two? Whatever, I don't care how much you bring. I'll have most of everything we'll need anyway, and there's, like, the shops right down the street. We can go there Wednesday night if you need to.'
Taekwoon nodded his response, too cold and too tired to plan anything tonight. He offered a hand for Jaehwan to take; and it was only to help him to his feet, but their hands lingered a moment longer. Long enough that Taekwoon felt his stomach flip.
Back at the dorm with the television on but the sound turned low, Taekwoon lay with his arm behind his head and Jaehwan beside him, playing with the cuffs of a long sleeved shirt he’d borrowed to sleep in.
'Can you leave the TV on tonight?' Jaehwan asked timidly. He didn't like how dark the dorms were; Taekwoon had noticed the first night Jaehwan had stayed. He'd woken in the night to find the overhead light on, harsh and bright and lighting every dark cranny of the room. It had been impossible to fall back asleep.
'Just this once,' Taekwoon said. And even though an hour later Jaehwan had fallen asleep first (with his arm thrown over Taekwoon's middle), Taekwoon left the television on. Just in case he were to wake in the middle of the night. He'd check the stores tomorrow for a small light. At least one he could clip into an outlet so Jaehwan wouldn't be so afraid anymore.
03 Taekwoon was in the office building again, huddled around the phone with his head lowered. He spoke softly; his father hadn’t answered this time, either.
'Dad, I'm returning my first call—' his hand was cupped around the receiver— 'I know it's overdo. I should have called sooner, but exams have been time consuming.' He hated that when he called his father, it often felt like leaving a message on a boss's home phone. Careful, quick to the point; no room for messing around. 'The problem I was having, I've fixed. So you won't have to worry about anything now. I hope you haven't been worried, but I'm sure that you weren't—' this came out sounding much harsher than he'd meant. He cleared his throat. 'I'll call again. Sometime soon.'
As he returned the phone to the cradle, he leaned the side of his face to the window; eyes shut. Outside: cold wind, snowy fields. It was a winter fucking wonderland and inside, Taekwoon with his own storm of anxiety and nerves brewing in his stomach. He shouldn’t have ever made the first call.
‘Yah, Taekwoon.’ Jaehwan and his omnipresent smile, standing by the door with his scarf unraveled. ‘Thought I saw you come in here, huh. You look tired. What are you doing?’
'Last minute calls.'
'You alright?'
Taekwoon rolled his eyes shut, didn’t answer. He pushed off the window as Jaehwan came to stand next to him; and returned the smile.
'Need help with your bags?' Jaehwan asked.
'No.'
'Ready, then?'
-
Taekwoon had only been in Jaehwan’s apartment twice since the first time, and all the times he’d been there it had looked the same: clutter of books and cups and clothes on the floor. But as he stepped through the doorway this time he felt he was somewhere new. The furniture had been moved, though subtle he had noticed it: curtains now over the windows: a bright turquoise color that hurt his eyes if he looked at them too long, and with the low-lit winter sun beating through the blinds, they left a pattern of green on the walls. He could only imagine how intense the color would be when spring came.
'Looks nice,' he said softly as he sat on the sofa.
'No, no. Don't get too comfy. We're gonna leave right now. To the store. But thanks, hyung, I changed—'
hyung?
'—a couple things. I didn't want it to look so boring in here. So—what's wrong with your expression?' He stopped fiddling with his gloves, stared hard at Taekwoon.
'Nothing's wrong with my expression,' and he promptly wiped his face clear of any emotion. 'What are we getting at the store?'
Jaehwan needed a new tooth brush, but other than that Taekwoon didn’t think there was a reason they had walked three miles in almost freezing temperatures. He stood, agitated, by the coffee, trying to decide between the dark roast and the mild. Jaehwan made the choice for him; grabbed the mild and a container of light. He shrugged apologetically.
'I don't like strong coffee.'
In the check-out lane, flipping through a fashion magazine, Taekwoon watched from the corner of his eye as Jaehwan crouched in front of the candy display.
'I grabbed a bottle of wine,' he said when he'd caught Taekwoon looking. 'It's white, so it won't be bitter or anything.' He stood in time to knock Taekwoon's hand away when he tried to pay; and offered his own debit card instead. 'We can watch a movie tonight. What do you think? You can pick what it is.'
But back at the apartment, Taekwoon wasn’t in the mood for a movie or wine; he was tired. And so, looking through the small collection of DVD’s kept in a drawer beneath Jaehwan’s television, he looked for something short, 90 minutes at most; and happened upon a silent film titled City Lights. It was when he’d pulled it from the drawer that he found, underneath it, a collection of Charlie Chaplin films, and an old copy of Nosferatu.
'You like silent movies?' he asked incredulously. 'How's that work? Do you make up the dialogue yourself?'
Jaehwan, laughing: ‘What the hell? Asshole.’ He was pouring their drinks: large wine glasses that he could split the full bottle between if he tried. ‘They’re Mom’s, actually. She really loves Chaplin. But when I moved here some of her things got mixed up in my boxes.’ He shrugged. ‘She doesn’t seem to be missing them, so I haven’t sent them back. Haven’t, like, watched them either,’ here: a laugh. ‘Interested or something?’
'Sort of.'
'The Kid's a really good one. Saw it when I was younger. Won awards, I think?' He brought the wine to the living room, sat with his arms crossed and his feet propped on the coffee table. 'You might like it since you're the silent, brooding type. It's one of those heart warming movies, though.' He stuck out his tongue; Taekwoon wasn't sure if it was meant to show distaste.
'I like heart warming,' Taekwoon muttered. He put the DVD in, moved to the couch and surprised himself by drinking half of his drink before the opening credits were finished. He didn't stop Jaehwan from topping off his glass.
And thirty minutes into the film—as well as his second glass; Jaehwan was close behind him—Taekwoon learned that given enough alcohol—at least wine—Jaehwan was much quieter than usual. He sat first with his feet on the table, then brought them onto the couch and cradled his knees to his chest. He leaned on the arm rest, then on Taekwoon’s shoulder; restless, but quiet. He laughed at parts that Taekwoon didn’t fully understand, but maybe it was the alcohol clouding his judgment (none of it seemed very funny), or his lingering exhaustion that had moved from his body to his head. It was hard to keep his eyes open.
'I think I'll sleep soon,' he said when Jaehwan poured himself another drink.
'There's, like, 20 minutes left to the movie. Can you finish it?'
'Sure.'
'Then we'll sleep.'
At the time, Taekwoon hadn’t thought anything of Jaehwan’s usage of we, but when the ending credits rolled and his body was nice and warm and relaxed from the wine, he didn’t know what to say when Jaehwan didn’t bring a pillow or a blanket out to him on the couch, but instead leaned out of the bedroom doorway and asked, ‘Aren’t you coming to bed?’
Taekwoon faltered. ‘In there?’
'Where else? Outside?'
'I thought I'd sleep out here.'
'Is that what you want?'
He didn’t have an answer for that. So: to his feet, crossing a room that felt ten miles long; a plethora of second thoughts and his heart fluttering fitfully against his ribs. Taekwoon stood in the doorway and watched as Jaehwan moved a stack of paperbacks from his bed to his nightstand.
'Really, hyung,' he began, 'if you don't wanna sleep in here, that's fine. I just thought that since we shared a bed in the dorm it'd be fine. But I mean, I guess it is a little different? Since we didn't have a choice in your room, but here.. we do?' He wasn't looking at Taekwoon—in fact it seemed he made a point of not looking at him.
And Taekwoon wanted to correct him, to tell him that they did have a choice, because in every dorm at Bugil University there was a stowaway cot kept in the closet in case of emergency use, or a student visiting another. Jaehwan knew about the cot, but had never wanted to use it; and frankly, Taekwoon had been perfectly fine with Jaehwan in his bed. But as he climbed into bed now—one much bigger and spacious than the one at school—he felt oddly misplaced, as if he wasn’t used to Jaehwan being so close. But he was.
'Can you switch on the light over there?' Jaehwan pointed to a small lamp on Taekwoon's side of the bed. It was heavily shaded and so the light it produced was dim and sallow; it mostly cast a glare on the ceiling rather than in the room itself.
And even though he’d been tired for hours, Taekwoon lay awake watching the ceiling long after Jaehwan began snoring; and some time later, as the room grew colder and his eyelids a bit heavier, he turned on his side with every intention of going to sleep. But then Jaehwan’s arm was around him and his face was pressed to Taekwoon’s spine, soft puffs of breath warm enough to be felt through the back of his pajama shirt. It was a long time before sleep took him.
-
Every morning for a week Taekwoon woke to find Jaehwan on the couch, lying in his pajamas with a book held above his reclined head. Some mornings he’d read a paperback, something so tattered the front cover was torn off, but often he read poetry books. He’d turn the pages with as much enthusiasm as he did anything, as if the three seconds it took to find his place again was much too long. And after their showers were done and their morning exchanges completed (sleep well? / fine, and you? / yeah, just fine) they’d have breakfast with black tea, watching the news at low volume.
It was the quietest time of day and it was during this time Taekwoon felt the most at home—a feeling he missed dearly since leaving for school, and he wasn’t sure if it was Jaehwan’s company that put him in these good moods, or if it was simply having a comfortable place to relax. He thought it may have been a bit of both.
-
'My mom called me this morning,' Jaehwan said one evening. They were sat in the living room, watching The Artist. The night before they had finished the last of the Chaplin movies; and it seemed silent films weren't quite as boring as Taekwoon had originally thought. They were oddly pleasant. But that could have been because they took to drinking a bottle of wine each time they watched one; the combination of alcohol and the movie's tendency of using loud, emotional music always made him smile. But tonight it felt different. The wine left a bitter aftertaste; and Jaehwan's soft laughter didn't sound as genuine.
'What'd she call about?' Taekwoon asked.
'Something about my dad.' Jaehwan wouldn't look away from the television. 'He's going away, I guess. For a little while.'
'Going away?'
'Yeah. She said a business trip. I think.. I don't know, I think they're afraid of telling me that they're thinking of splitting up.' He scoffed. 'It's like they don't realize I'm not ten, you know? And even when I was ten, I knew they had problems. Anyway, she called to tell me he probably wouldn’t be there the next time I come to visit—as if I’m visiting anytime soon. If he’s not there, I’m going to assume he isn’t coming back.’
'Did you tell her that?'
'No. I told her to take care of herself. You know. Kept the conversation light. It's just irritating. Like, why call me for that? It isn't like I really talk to him much anyway. Is your dad like that? Or, I don't know. You said you don't have problems with your family, but every dad I've met has been a real dick.'
'Uh,' Taekwoon stretched his legs out, leaned back on his hands, 'yeah, actually. He's sort of a jerk.' He paused, bit at the corner of his mouth. 'Well, I don't think it's fair to call him that. I don't really know him. We never got to the intimate stage.' He thought of the last message he'd left on his father's phone, how he felt like he were talking to a stranger. 'It's a weird relationship we have. Kind of like business partners more than anything.'
Jaehwan made a face. ‘That must be shitty when you go home. Is that why you didn’t want to?’ When Taekwoon didn’t make an effort to explain, he added quickly: ‘You don’t have to tell me. That’s okay.’ Eyes back on the movie, drinking his drink like nothing had happened at all.
Quietly, ‘I’m going outside for a smoke.’
'Want me to come with you?'
He nodded.
And instead of sitting on the patio like he normally did, Jaehwan ignored the lawn chair in favor of the lawn itself: thick snow, at least five inches of it. It was the most Taekwoon could remember ever seeing. Standing there, cigarette hanging loose from his mouth, he watched Jaehwan collapse on his back as if he were going to make a snow angel, but he didn’t. He stared at the fierce sky, impossibly black; stars burning.
Taekwoon sat on the patio long enough to light his cigarette; it was hard to ignore Jaehwan lying only feet away; and so joined him. A huff of breath as he flopped down beside him.
And silence. At least for a while.
'Taekwoon?'
'Yeah.'
'Thanks for staying with me.' As he spoke, small plums of breath rose from his mouth like streams of smoke. 'If you weren't here, it'd only be me right now and it'd be really lonely. So, I don't know. Thanks.'
Taekwoon snorted. ‘It’s not a big deal’
'It feels like it is. And, well, I've been having fun. I think you have too? At least some fun. You've been smiling more and that's nice.'
Taekwoon didn’t know what to say, but it seemed he wasn’t expected to say anything. He felt Jaehwan’s hand, cold and shaky, touch his bare wrist; and without looking for confirmation, or without really knowing what he was doing in the first place, Taekwoon offered his own hand, and linked his fingers in the spaces between Jaehwan’s own. And it was nice, to lie down in the silence that followed, not having anything expected of him.
When his cigarette was spent and his back cold and damp from the melting snow, Taekwoon led the way inside with their hands still entwined, not knowing if he should let go or not. But Jaehwan made the decision for him, and pulled his hand away; he did it to remove his jacket, and as soon as Taekwoon’s own coat was laid over the back of the sofa, Jaehwan was there, behind him, with his arms around Taekwoon’s waist, and his chin hooked over his shoulder.
He said: ‘Hyung, I know you’re unhappy about things, and that you’re probably angry about the whole, you know, being cut from the team thing. Which is totally understandable, and I get it. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but—’ he released Taekwoon and urged him to turn toward him, and standing there, face to face: Jaehwan, biting his lower lip: ‘If you ever did want to talk about it, I’m… here.’
Taekwoon, as taken aback as he was flattered, didn’t say anything for several minutes. Then, finally, ‘Jaehwan-ah.’
'I'm sorry!' he burst out, blushing fiercely. 'You must think I'm weird. You never say anything. I feel like I make you uncomfortable or something and I don't mean to. I just, sometimes I say things and I…’
Taekwoon didn’t think before he did it, but after it was done it felt like the right thing: he cupped either side of Jaehwan’s face and, leaning in carefully, lightly pressed a kiss to his mouth. His nose brushed Jaehwan’s cheek, breath ghosting over his parted lips. He whispered, ‘Thank you.’
Jaehwan was quiet—which was surprising—but then a burst of nervous laughter as he all but collapsed against Taekwoon’s chest.
They didn’t say much else for the rest of the night, but there really wasn’t much to say in the first place. And when the movie ended, Taekwoon allowed Jaehwan to pull him—a little forcefully—into bed, under cold sheets; bodies pressed together with no space between them. And he kissed Taekwoon with the lights turned off, kissed him hard with his hands in his hair and his breath warm against his mouth.
That night Taekwoon let himself, for the first time, envelope Jaehwan in his arms like he had wanted to so many weeks before; and he could feel his heart beating in his ears, rush of blood and nerves—all good things. They reminded him that there were still things to be happy about.
04 5 months later
In the office building with another unanswered call; Taekwoon stood with his back leaned to the wall, Jaehwan beside him.
'Dad, I'm calling to remind you that I won't be home for another three weeks. Today was the last day for classes, uh— something will come in the mail for me. It'll be my grades. Just leave it in my room, or you can open it. I don't mind. I'll call when I get a chance; it'll be from a weird number. So, answer it? If you can.' He looked to Jaehwan who was mouthing something. It looked a lot like I love you.
Taekwoon covered the mouthpiece, said: ‘I love you, too.’
And Jaehwan, with his hand over his face. ‘Tell your dad that.’
'Oh.' Then back into the phone, 'Love you? Uh. Tell Mom I love her.' He hung up, and shoved hard at Jaehwan's shoulder. 'Idiot.'
Jaehwan forced his voice an octave higher, pouted his bottom lip. ‘You love me, hyung?’ and danced out of Taekwoon’s reach before he could be shoved again.
'Do you wanna die?’
'Maybe,' he singsonged; and before Taekwoon could really get irritated with him, Jaehwan nuzzled his face into his neck, kissed his jaw. 'The car's waiting,' he whispered before kissing him again.
And shouldering their way out of the building and into the courtyard, crisp summer sun beating down on them, they made their way to the parking lot where the car Jaehwan’s mom had sent to pick them up would take them to the vacation home his father owned. And for the next three weeks they’d kick around the soccer ball Taekwoon had stowed in one of his duffle bags. His knee was better—not perfect, but better; and he still hoped to make it through try-outs for next year’s team.
After all, nothing was impossible; and with Jaehwan’s hand in his own, Taekwoon really believed it.