Chapter Text
How many years has it been?
Sieun had convinced himself once that he would never forget that smile. Would never forget his eyes. Would never forget him.
Funnily enough, time never quite functioned that way.
______
What eats away at Sieun later that night is that...
...he couldn't tell right away.
He didn't even know who it was that he was looking at till a very familiar old woman came back to hand the man in the wheelchair his ticket.
The man in the wheelchair.
It later kills Sieun that he had actually forgotten that smile somewhere along the way.
Somewhere behind him, there's a shout. He doesn't hear it. His cannot hear anything but the pulse of his own blood throbbing in his hears.
But, the man does. And he looks up.
"Sieun-ah! What's taking so long?" a female voice behind him echoes.
The man in the wheelchair keeps staring at him. His eyes narrowing in an effort to focus.
He has glasses now.
Then his eyes widen. In recognition.
There's a rush of too many emotions crashing into one another in Sieun's mind right now. A rush chaotic enough to almost, but not quite, drown out the persistent voice in his head.
See? He forgot you first. So, why wouldn't you?
But Sieun hadn't been seeking revenge. Not on him.
Never on him.
When he had first been shifted Gwangju, Sieun had promised to visit.
"Sieun-ah... Gwanju is almost 300 kilometers away. I know you- I know he is your friend but..."
...But this shift from Seoul to Gwangju is effectively a death sentence. There's nothing else they can do for him. So they are sending him away as far possible from the Assemblyman. So that his inevitable death cannot taint the Assemblyman's reputation before the upcoming elections.
His grandmother knows it. And Sieun knows it. But, no amount of broken bones and ruptured lungs will solve this.
The trace of breath that fogs up the oxygen mask is still dependent on the Assemblyman's money.
Sieun cannot support those stuttered breaths that still keep Sieun himself alive. Neither can his parents.
"I will visit," he tells her firmly. Because that's all he can do for now.
And then he never does.
Gwangju is exactly 267 kilometers away.
He never does.
_________
Who forgot whom first?
To be brutally honest, Sieun had never entertained the possibility that Suho had actually forgotten him.
How could he? the voice in his mind asks. You are marked into his flesh. He cannot forget you even if he wants to.
Sieun makes the first call to Gwangju one month after the shift. He is too scared to know.
His grandmother doesn't pick up.
He knows.
_______
The man in the wheelchair seems to be smiling. It's not the smile from a second ago. The one Sieun had lamented forgetting.
Suho had never smiled like this before. Hesitant. Scared that it wouldn't be returned.
Scared that you forgot, his mind reminds him.
The elderly woman behind him offers him a faltering smile as well.
"You still didn't get the tickets?" a voice beside Sieun huffs, annoyed. Sieun blindly hands over some cash without saying a word.
She's even more pissed off. "What is wrong with-"
Sieun is walking away. Not away. He is walking towards the scared man in the wheelchair.
Why are you scared of me? he wants to ask.
He doesn't. He knows the answer. He doesn't want to hear it.
He doesn't speak. Neither does the man.
After a tense few seconds, Suho looks back at his grandmother, with strangely imploring eyes.
This seems to jolt the woman out of her petrified state.
"Oh. Sieun-ah! How wonderful it is to meet you here! How have you been?"
Sieun doesn't answer. He knows it is rude. But he can't look away from Suho now. He had never been able to look away from Suho.
"You've been well?"
It's a surprisingly superficial question with extremely weighty implications.
When did you wake up?
Why did you not call me?
Why didn't you at least let me know you're alive?
A range of emotions quickly flicker across Suho's face and then he let's out a laugh.
It's a coarse sound. Extremely unlike Suho.
But Sieun doesn't think it was meant to sound derisive. Because the moment the sound is uttered, Suho freezes.
In a second, his mouth is clamped shut. Out of the corner of his eyes, Sieun sees his grandmother sigh in slight irritation.
"Ah... You know your voice sounds fine. If you don't practice, how will you-"
Suho whips his face back to fix his grandmother with a panicked glare.
She sighs again. And then looks at the ticket in her own hand.
"Which movie are you watching, Sieun-ah? This one here wants to watch the latest horror flick even though I hate them," she laughed lightly, "Though I don't think you're here to watch that with your..."
Suho looks away.
The girl Sieun was with was walking towards them, still looking rather annoyed.
"You must go," Suho's grandmother prompts. "We'll meet after-"
"Is your number still the same?" Sieun asks suddenly.
Suho's grandmother looks a bit confused.
"Uh... Yes. But Suho himself has a--"
Too late. Sieun had already snatched away a napkin from the girl who had come bearing popcorn along with the tickets.
He hurriedly scratched down a number and thrust it towards Suho.
"You cannot say you lost it. If... If you don't call..."
And then he walked away.
I'll fall apart.
He doesn't say it. Suho hears it anyway.