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There’s a thousand things Seungcheol wishes he could’ve done differently, there’s a thousand different lives he could have lived. Turn left instead of right, be wrong instead of right, look ahead instead of back, scratch the lottery ticket, miss the bus, placate the man pestering him as he played hooky, walk into the green room, make it his kingdom, meet a shy boy who stands in the back, become infatuated with him.
He’s staring up at a silly portrait of Seungkwan and Jeonghan holding hands. They’re here straight from a big party from all the members and the staff. A goodbye party, a see you soon party, a we’ll wait for you party. Jeonghan feigned a headache and left early. Seungcheol felt obligated to stay, to be some sort of leader and keep the energy up, even though most times he just feels like a figurehead. As the minutes passed, his heart started beating faster, and he couldn’t help himself from leaving too.
He arrived at a silent apartment, lights off, just Jeonghan sitting at the kitchen table staring at the wall.
“You’re here.” Jeonghan had said blankly as if he were waiting for him.
Seungcheol quietly took a seat next to him. Minutes of silence passed and then Jeonghan carefully rested his head on Seungcheols shoulder.
Now there is a takeout spread in front of them. He’s pretending everything’s normal. Jeonghan is pretending everything is normal. Or at least trying. Failing spectacularly.
He’s rambling and rambling and rambling. And blinking rapidly because his eyes keep getting glossy, sniffing and blaming it on seasonal allergies. Seungcheol listens patiently, hangs onto every word, memorizes the melody of his voice.
Seungcheol is Orpheus leading Eurydice out of the underworld, forbidden from looking back to ensure her safety. But that’s the whole problem. Seungcheol has always looked back, will always look back. And Eurydice is going to be in the underworld all alone.
So much as a sigh behind him and Seungcheol has always looked back. He’s never been able to help himself when it comes to Jeonghan. He’s never understood people who disdain Orpheus for looking back. He knows why he did it. To wade through the darkness, horror and blood, and not look back? He couldn’t imagine it. He wouldn’t be able to help it. A gasp, a cry behind him from his beloved, and why wouldn’t he have the knee jerk reaction to look back and make sure he was okay? Despite hammering it in his brain to not look back, how could he possibly stop his heart from doing it? From searching for Jeonghan. In every room Seungcheol has ever walked in, his eyes have automatically always searched for Jeonghan. So lost in a dark abyss, lost in grief and misery, how could he possibly stop himself from searching for him?
In a thousand different lives, he may have looked straight ahead. Boarded the bus, ripped up the ticket, never walked into that green basement. But then, he would have never met Jeonghan, never known him, touched him, breathed him, tasted him, loved him. That wouldn’t be a life worth living.
Jeonghan has fallen silent finally. Has finally run out of things to distract himself with, is finally begrudgingly facing his reality. Into the underworld alone.
Seungcheol wonders what Orpheus would have done if he was never even given the chance to rescue Eurydice. If he tore his ACL or something and had to sit on his ass and let his life pass him by.
“It’s only two years.” He attempts to console.
It’s a pathetic attempt. He’s never been good about stuff like that. He tries. With the kids he tries. Spur them into action, make them forget about their sadness. Jeonghan is always the one who wants to sit down with everyone, hear their sorrows, their worries, console them, placate them.
Them. Always them. He never does it for himself. No matter how hard anyone tries. No matter how hard Seungcheol tries, the most he is able to do is muscle it out of him, and Jeonghan is more than happy to come up with some half baked solution before he moves on to a different topic. And Seungcheol has always relented, letting him steer the conversation. Maybe he can try again tonight.
Jeonghan opens his mouth to speak, closes it, and then lets out a little chuckle, staring at nothing.
Seungcheol is an Orpheus who is not going to be given the chance to rescue his Eurydice from the underworld at all. He is going to sit on the surface and wait and wait and wait for centuries. Or maybe just two years.
“I’ll miss you.”
Jeonghan chuckles again.
“You won’t have to.”
Silence.
“What?”
He gets up, goes to his backpack that sits abandoned in the corner on the floor, rummaging through it silently, blinking away tears again. Seungcheol looks at him confused.
Jeonghan then pulls out a little plastic strawberry keychain on which he has scribbled his name in marker. It’s an ugly cheap looking thing, the paint already peeling in some spots. Seungcheol stands up as Jeonghan approaches him.
He can’t help but break into a soft smile.
“I’ll be right here.” Jeonghan takes his hand and puts it in his palm, squeezing tightly before letting go.
The quiver in his voice makes Seungcheols eyebrows knit, a sob threatens to come up. Jeonghan beats him to it with a croaky gasp, half laughing half crying, looking at that keychain absurdly.
An involuntary tear slithers down Seungcheols face as he turns the trinket in his hands, he chuckles.
“Even with this, I’ll miss you.” He tells him quietly.
Jeonghan wipes his eyes, takes steadying breaths. Seungcheol takes the silence to clip the trinket to his car keys. Jeonghan looks at the half eaten food in front of them solemnly.
“Daddu-ya?” He says without looking at him.
“Hm?”
“Will you hold me?”
Seungcheol has just barely lifted his arms before Jeonghan tumbles into him, fitting himself against him, cheek wet and squished on his shoulder, his hands clutching Seungcheols sweatshirt. Seungcheol engulfs him, memorizing the shape of him, the scent of him, hand running up and down his back.
“Daddu-ya?”
“Hm?” Seungcheol forces out.
Jeonghan pulls his head back and looks at him with pretty tears slithering down his face, cheeks are red, breath is baited, eyes are big and wide and nervous.
“Will you wait for me?”
It’s not even a question. Seungcheol would wait forever. Jeonghan knows but he has to ask anyway. Just to be sure. As if he’s scared to be forgotten, left behind by him. As if Seungcheol ever would.
As if he wouldn’t wait for centuries. He runs a thumb over Jeonghans cheek, wipes away tears that keep coming. This fear of being forgotten by him. As if Seungcheol could ever forget him. As if he’s not the first thought in Seungcheols mind every morning and his last wish every night.
As if Seungcheol isn’t constantly looking over his shoulder, searching for him, making sure he’s safe, making sure he’s right there. Even alone on the surface, separated from him, Seungcheol won’t be able to stop himself from looking behind him, even though he’ll know Jeonghan won’t be there. As if his heart won’t look for him anyway.
“I’ll miss you. More than anything.” Jeonghan gasps out. “I’ll miss you so much. Don’t tell the others and especially don’t tell my mom but I’m gonna miss you the most. I’m gonna miss you all the time.”
He’s rambling and rambling and rambling again. And Seungcheol could listen to him forever.
There are a thousand different lives Seungcheol could have lived. And maybe in one of them, they wouldn’t have to be separated. But as long as he knows Jeonghan, as long as he loves him, as long as he breathes and maybe even in death, Seungcheol will keep looking behind to make sure he’s there. He won’t be able to help himself. Even if his mind knows Jeonghan won’t be there, that won’t stop his heart from looking.