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1.
Seungmin throws up for the third time that week. On his knees, head lowered and gulping in air in heavy panting breaths. The hand on his back is soothing, fingers smoothly gliding over the curve of his spine. If he dared to look up, he’d find Hyunjin looking at him with eternally soft eyes. Concerned. Seungmin hates making him worry; he’s too sensitive to carry both their burdens.
The hand travels up to his hair. Seungmin shivers and pushes himself off the floor. He sways slightly on his feet, his reflection in the mirror hazy. Hyunjin, who’d been standing out of the way, appears in it. He sees more than feels the reassuring pat on his back. He tries to tug onto his hand; it’s innocent. “C’mon, I'll drive you home.”
There’s a nervous squeeze in his chest. He draws his hand away. “Oh, I can drive. I’m not drunk, really, I just felt a little sick.” Hyunjin’s silence speaks of disapproval. “I’ll just call up Minho hyung. Unless he left with Han. Hah.” Breathing becomes difficult. He supports himself against the wall, eyes fixed to the floor.
“Well, I can… call Minho hyung.” Hyunjin sighs. He stands beside him, fiddles with his phone. A minute or two pass. Music from the party faintly permeates into the empty bathroom. Hyunjin’s breaths are loud, closing in on him. It was probably the alcohol, but there’s now black spots in his vision. The hand that slipped into his, the arm that supported him, the smile his way—all of it seems underwater. They never happened, and Seungmin never agreed to this.
After a while, “he’s here.”
The gapless pit in his chest opens and opens. He pushes himself off the wall and walks out. Hyunjin glances at him from the corner of his eye, and that’s all he can see as the door slams shut behind him. He knows those eyes, knows the doleful crinkle and the disappointed downturn of his mouth. Minho waits expectantly; he knows not to ask questions, and he doesn’t. Seungmin wordlessly follows him to the car.
It’s only when they’re inside that Minho speaks up, “so?”
Seungmin crumbles. The dashboard is cool against his forehead. “I can’t do this,” he says, voice muffled. Minho laughs. It’s not sincere, it’s not mocking either. More incredulous. Concerned. He thinks he pats his back.
“It can’t be that bad.”
“I can’t do this.” Seungmin simply repeats. “I wish he didn’t come back.”
2.
“Hey, isn’t he in your class?” Jisung nudges him. He’s been dozing off for the past twenty minutes now, half warmed in the sun and cozy in the breeze. He chooses to not reply, but has to when Jisung knocks the book off his face. Squinting and cursing, he sits up. “That guy. How is he allowed to have long hair? I’ve been hearing about him, the pretty boy with long hair . And he’s friends with Minho hyung!”
Seungmin frowns. “He’s not friends with hyung. If he was, we’d have heard about him.” He picks at a blade of grass, watching the ants scurrying away. The soil under his palm is slightly damp. “Yeah. Hwang Hyunjin. He got moved to my class at the start of the year.” Jisung is looking at him expectantly, waiting for more. “What? He’s pretty quiet. You’d think he’d be an asshole, considering the image he has, but no.” He scrunches his face up, trying to remember. “We talked… once.”
Jisung groans. “You’re useless,” he mutters. Seungmin chooses to ignore it, instead notes the way Hyunjin is definitely closer than he was a few moments ago. He’s doing the thing where he pretends to not know where he’s going, but occasionally glancing at them to make sure he’s going the right way. That means he’s heading for them… past them?
“Jisung,” he hisses. “Stop talking, he’s coming here.”
“Hi,” Hyunjin bows. The light catches his earrings. “I was just… Kim Seungmin, right? You’re in my class, and I just wanted to go over the notes for the Tuesday classes.” Hyunjin is looking everywhere but him. Quickly, “if that’s okay. I was sick.” He can tell he’s getting nervous at the intent way Jisung is staring. “Sorry, uh…”
“Sure.” Seungmin allows himself to indulge in him. Only a little, this once. There must be so much more to the nice face and fidgeting fingers, right? “You free after school?”
Hyunjin looks relieved, like he’s found the landing pad. “Yes, I'll stay back. Thank you so much.” Seungmin nudges jisung because he’s still looking. Hyunjin turns on his heel, but not before shooting him a smile. “You’re a lifesaver.” He then politely nods to jisung and leaves.
A warmth lingers even after he’s disappeared from view.
3.
“What’s with him?” Seungmin says in lieu of greeting, drops his bag into the seat beside Minho. The senior pulls out one side of his earphones in acknowledgement of his presence. Seungmin repeats, adds, “him. Hyunjin.”
“Huh.” Minho doesn’t bother looking at him. He knows he’s dying to ask what he means. “What?”
“I don’t know, hyung, isn’t he your friend? You never said anything about that. I mean, everyone loses their mind over the guy. Han got real jealous seeing you two hanging out the other day. So,” he nudges his shoulder. “What’s up?”
Minho gets a blank look in his eyes, like he’s seeing right through him. Slowly, he pauses the music blaring through the earphones and drops them in his lap. He squints at him. Oddly, Seungmin feels exposed. Like he has something to hide, compose his face. Not look at him directly. “I know Hyunjin from the studio. We live in the same area.” Minho sighs. “Hannie got jealous? Give me your phone.”
Seungmin grins at him. It’s exactly like he predicted: he narrowed in specifically on Jisung and not the fact that he’s asking about Hyunjin. He passes him the phone. He’s allowed to ask about him, but something about the fact that he can’t pick out a legitimate reason to not like the guy irks at him.
All throughout middle school, he got used to walking home alone. Minho was already in high school by that time and he always had something going on. If jisung wasn’t staying back to hover around the seniors, he’d be in the music rooms. If he wasn’t doing that either, he’d ask Seungmin to wait an hour. Which would turn into two hours. Seungmin quickly learnt to pre-pick out his lone walk home music.
Hyunjin offered to walk with him last week. That’s probably not the worst part. The confusing thing is: Seungmin considered it.
Then he immediately reconsidered. He’s meticulous by nature, and with that comes his perfectionism. Not at all a bad ordeal. But with that comes this weird relationship with control. Deviating from his usual day would mean an anomaly. An omen even. Besides, they hardly know each other. They’d have nothing to talk about, and it’d get awkward real quick. Hyunjin would realize how boring it is to walk with him, and he’ll go make fun of him to whoever else he talks to.
He glances at the senior talking on the phone, wearing a distressed expression. He knows Jisung’s tantrums better than anyone.
It then hits him that Hyunjin lied about his house being the same way.
4.
“Ten years from now, where do you see yourself?”
That’s not really what the prompt asks. The real question is, what do you want? What do you want so badly that you would burden the present with that expectation? Will it really be everything you ever wanted once you finally attain it? Is wanting it worth letting everyone see your raw hunger?
As meticulous as he is, the other end goes way deeper. He knows how to care about the things he should, so the rest he can unpack without regret. That’s how he gave away his piano.
Years later, he realized he was still looking for it.
5.
“You’re staying back?” Hyunjin asks, muffled through the sachet he’s sipping on. His feet are up on the chair beside him. He’s streaked in sunlight, face angled at an odd angle to keep it out of his eyes. Seungmin nods. “Ah. I'll stay too.”
Why? “No, don’t you have homework?” Seungmin asks, lowering his book. He frowns. Hyunjin isn’t looking at him; he’s noticed he always does that. If he wants to pretend to be nice, he can bother to look at him. There's a weird noise bubbling up in his throat. “Go home, I'll take time to finish up.”
Hyunjin looks at him. “How long?”
“It doesn’t matter, go home.” Seungmin hasn’t known himself to be pushy. Even as he says, he’s thinking where it’s coming from. Hyunjin has looked away; he’s looking at the floor. “Why would you want to waste your time?”
“To hang out with you?”
“I’ll be busy.” He scrapes back his chair. The noise sends pinpricks of irritation into him. “It’s important, Hyunjin, it’s not hanging out. Go home, go study.” He throws in his books haphazardly, doesn’t really process doing that. He’s watching himself. “We don’t have to be together all the time. Go hang out with someone else.”
He’s halfway across the room, four more steps to the door. The sun has shifted. Three more steps. Hyunjin’s voice sounds so far away that for a moment he wonders if he’s underwater. “What?”
Two more steps. One step. He seems to hit an invisible wall at the door, his limbs slumping down suddenly like they’ve been replaced by lead. He looks at the tiles, then at his hands. He’s watching himself, a strange feeling in his chest. He knows there’s something wrong, but he doesn’t know what.
Hyunjin hasn’t gotten closer, and he’s glad. He’s glad there’s finally some distance between them. “I don't understand.”
I can’t be friends with you. He knows what he should say. He knows what he should do. His grip on the school bag tightens along with his chest. He’ll never know what it means when that happens. Isn’t that anxiety? Isn’t that supposed to be something he should prevent, stay away from? Hyunjin is incomprehensible, and he doesn’t want to bother figuring him out. It’s better that way.
“Why are you being mean?” Hyunjin asks, a short staccato laugh interjected between the words. Everything sounds off. Softly, “... did I do something wrong?”
No.
Seungmin passes through the door, and tries very, very hard not to look back. When he does, the classroom window is blurry and the tiled floors look all wrong.
6.
Seungmin throws up in the bathroom.
7.
Jisung looks miserable. “I think hyung got a girlfriend.”
Seungmin is miserable too, somehow. His eyes feel too heavy the past few days, a strange lethargy in his steps like he’s left something behind. Like he’s being dragged. He should stop lying to Jisung about why Hyunjin doesn’t eat lunch with them anymore. Instead he tears open the ketchup packet and pours it all over his fries. “And? Aren’t you happy for him?”
Jisung whirls around. Seungmin glances up at him; there’s a weird look in his eyes. “What?”
“What?” A short laugh. None of the mirth in his eyes is genuine. Seungmin feels like he’s missed a few too many steps. “What the fuck? No?” He knows not to interrupt. Jisung runs his hands through his hair, then drops his forehead to the table. Seungmin keeps eating, but the food seems to be getting stuck in his throat. Softer, “no, Seungmin. I’m not happy for him. I hope they break up in a week. Fuck.”
Seungmin carefully pats his back. Warily, “you’re jealous?”
He knows he catches things a little late sometimes, knows he doesn’t really… understand the more subtle etiquette of crushes. But he’s a little floored now; how did he not catch on? Jisung just looks at him like he wants nothing more than to punch him in the face. The words sound hollow to him too now.
“Seungmin.” Jisung deadpans. Then he looks confused. “What, are you making me say it on purpose? Of course I'm jealous? Seungmin, I like him. Please tell me you knew that.”
“Of… course. Yes. Obviously. Pfft. You think I'm stupid?” Seungmin scoffs. “I’m not blind, of course I—okay, listen—”
“Oh my god.” Jisung hits his head on the table, then collapses. “I’m not doing this right now.” He sighs. “Yes, I like boys. A boy, specifically. Now don’t bring up hyung in front of me unless you have news of them breaking up.”
8.
Seungmin sits and lets the words run through his head once or twice. I like boys. A boy, specifically . Jisung leaves to get food, talks to people all the way there and back. Someone tried to talk to him too, but he’s too distracted to reply with anything other than a smile and a nod.
“Also,” Jisung starts when he’s back. “Hyunjin wants to talk to you. Aren’t you two in the same class? Why does he need to ask me? You had that—” he slides into the seat. “—study session thing going on for a while, weren’t you?”
Suddenly he understands why Jisung asked not to bring up Minho. Quietly, he nurses the ache in his chest. He hasn’t talked to him in two weeks. Can’t even look at him, terrified of seeing the hurt he’s caused. Somehow, he knows they will never go back to what they were.
“Can you pass on a message?” Seungmin asks, voice barely a mumble. Ashamed. His name sits heavy on his tongue, this strange cocktail of feelings in his chest. “Just… tell him to ask someone else to study with. I can’t find the time anymore.”
Jisung is looking at him strangely. A beat later, he hums. “Sure, dude.”
And that’s that.
9.
He’s never had another person in his room. His hands are folded in his lap, a nervous energy in them. He chances a glance up, and Hyunjin is still looking around. A small smile on his face, his eyes wide. He doesn’t know what he finds so interesting: it’s just books and a few posters. He seems interested in even the bedspread.
Hyunjin sits opposite him on the floor, unzipping his bag. “You play guitar?” He glances at the old acoustic guitar in the corner of his room. There’s a thin layer of dust on the body; his mom would try to keep it clean but eventually gave up. He tells Hyunjin that, tells him that he used to. Hasn’t played in five years now. He watches him make a face. “Aw, you should play for me sometime.”
Seungmin can’t look away from the fascination in his eyes. He blinks. The look in his eyes changes, and the smile on his lips widens. He’s stopped taking out his books, letting one fall back. Hyunjin leans back a little, tilting his head in question. A lot of time passes—hours maybe—before he realizes he’s staring.
It’s not new—to stare at Hwang Hyunjin. He sees the double takes and the aborted steps in the hallways all the time. Hyunjin has a quiet presence, but there’s no doubt about the fact that he’s prettier than all the girls at school. People aren’t used to that; Seungmin isn’t used to that. He sketches his face in memory through glances too.
Hyunjin never breaks the silence. Seungmin always looks away, pretends that it never happened. Usually, his staring is subtle enough to pass off as a glance. He’s aware he’s doing it, but he can’t get himself to stop. Hyunjin seems to get more and more handsome each day.
“Did you zone out?” Hyunjin asks, an awkward laugh between the words. His room faces the south, and there’s usually more sunlight there than other parts of the house even in the evening. Hyunjin is flushed, his eyes darting all over the place. Seungmin blinks and clears his mind. What the hell is he doing?
“Yeah, sorry,” Seungmin says. “Let’s get started.”
10.
Hyunjin grew up well.
Hyunjin grew up so well; he can feel his palms getting sweaty. It’s so reminiscent that it floors him, how after all these years and all that distance he still holds the same corner in his heart. Hyunjin smiles, and his chest hurts so much he wonders if it’s heartburn from the greasy food.
When Hyunjin smiles at him, it’s tentative. Nervous. After the third moment of eyes meeting, he slowly realizes that maybe he never moved on either. Maybe he still thinks about that moment in the classroom, where Seungmin lied through gritted teeth and was too much of a coward to admit he was wrong.
Maybe he’s still looking for some closure, maybe he wants to move past everything and treat him like a stranger. Maybe he hates him. Seungmin doesn’t know how to get everything answered when even looking at him makes him feel clammy. He who is now ten years older, still feeling like that kid in front of him.
Giddy, nervous, and this strange need to push away anything he’s not familiar with. He never bothered to know Hyunjin well, because he’d have to be known in return.
11.
Hyunjin’s fingers encircle his wrist all the way to the cafeteria. That’s normal. He tells himself it’s normal. Hyunjin’s knees touch his while they eat, and his hand brushes against his all the way back. In class, his shoulder leans against his. Sometimes, he falls asleep on his arm. Sometimes, Seungmin takes his notes for him.
Sometimes Hyunjin gets these letters in his locker. He can always tell when, because he always shuts the door a little too loud and then refuses to look at him the rest of the day. At first, Seungmin teased him for being so popular. He never opens the letters. He doesn’t throw them away either.
Please go out with me. Hyunjin snatched the letter away soon after, shoving it into his bag. Seungmin opened his mouth to tease, then catches his downcast eyes and decides against it. In class he laughs and asks, “have you ever gotten a letter from someone you actually like?”
Hyunjin looks at him. “No.” And he’s quiet the rest of the day.
12.
Jisung gives him tickets to an art exhibition in the city. He doesn’t tell him why they’re going to a gallery out of nowhere, which should’ve made him more suspicious than he had been. The day before the show, he asks Minho about it; he’s a bad liar.
Minho looks a little surprised that he’s asking. “Hyunjin invited us,” he says, and Seungmin’s heart constricts a little. He should’ve known. “It’s his first showing in the city so he called up people he used to know. That’s what he told me.”
“Did he—did he mention me by name?” Seungmin asks, knowing full well how stupid he sounds. Minho looks at him weirdly, and says he sent over three tickets to Jisung. He can’t bring himself to think of this going well for himself; if it’s Hyunjin’s invitation then he’s going to be there, and if he’s going to be there then Seungmin will have to talk to him. Minho tells him to just be normal about it.
He picks at his cuticles all the way there. It’s five in the evening, with the sun slowly setting. The gallery entryway has a banner with all the showing artists’ names on them. He lingers long enough at the banner that jisung has to call him up.
Something clamps down in his chest when he immediately recognizes Hyunjin's work. He has that signature in everything he does, this quiet melancholy shaping into everything bittersweet that he associates with him. He should’ve learnt to let it go, but Hyunjin’s name always stays in the periphery of his life.
The doodles that used to be on the corner of his page have now shaped into canvases on the wall, Hwang Hyunjin written bold and bright under them. On the description notes there are extracts from various interviews, little blurbs, and Hyunjin’s own thoughts.
In one he describes the process as cathartic, in another he says he has a hard time looking at the painting because of the period of his life he associates it with. In one he says this is what it feels like to love a boy. The feeling of warm sunlight on your face, the cicada hum, the grass breaking under your shoes. Flowing sap, diffused light, soiled socks. The cool water in your throat, face warm in the cheeks. Every single moment you could have said it all, wasted in making these silent memories. The wordless kind, wishing he’d just hold your hand.
Dreamlike. Picking out every single blade of grass that he’s painted, he wonders. The scene is too vivid, too detailed to not have been experienced.
After a while, he has to move onto other artists. His throat starts closing up everytime he reads something a little too personal, too vulnerable. Hyunjin lays his heart bare, hoping to be treated as gently as he would for someone he loves. There’s a strange sensitivity in every single piece; even though he doesn’t necessarily relate to all of them, there’s a new feeling in his chest at all of them. He’s transfixed. Maybe by emotion, this terrible longing in him that he doesn’t know how to pin down.
He’s too weak for all of this, he realizes mournfully. Too much of a coward, never felt his emotions quite right. He’s going through this world in third person; he doesn’t even remember the last time he did something because he wanted to and not because he was obliged to. It’s that. Realizes that he’s madly jealous of Hyunjin, who has lived and given everything to what he loves and has never had a modicum of doubt about who he is.
“Oh, hey! I thought you wouldn’t be able to make it.” Seungmin doesn’t have to look to know who it is. Ten years have passed. He can’t give any reason for being this affected by one boy. “Hi, Seungmin.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Hyunjin.”
It’s making everything worse. He’s genuinely delighted to see him, eyes still crinkling up like they used to. He’s changed so much, but he’d never forget those eyes. He meets them for a total of three seconds before he starts feeling nauseous. So he focuses on the lock of hair he tucks behind his ear, the rings adorning his fingers. The cream blouse, the way his collarbones catch the light. Hyunjin’s hand is extended for a handshake.
When he grasps his hand, his body burns. Hyunjin lets go, lingering a little. He can’t shake off the feeling that the fondness in his eyes hasn't changed in the slightest. Seungmin hasn’t stopped feeling nauseous whenever he catches that all-adoring look either.
13.
They get ice cream after school, always passing an abandoned park on the way back. Seungmin reluctantly agreed to walking back together, a secret part of him flurried about this new development. He doesn’t tell anyone else about it, feeling like he has to keep this to himself. Besides, he’s not that close to Hyunjin; they might part ways suddenly and he’d need to explain that to them.
Hyunjin isn’t quiet, not really. He talks about the world like he’s born anew. They’ve crossed the same street everyday, and he’ll still find a new thing to talk about. Seungmin listens, notes, observes. This habit of Hyunjin’s might kill him soon; everything he sees he now associates with him. Light specks on concrete, a vintage lamp-post, sunlight through leaves, the broken fencing surrounding their park. Every painting, every book, every song. Hyunjin’s mind is a beautiful place.
They talk about Minho and Jisung. He doesn’t know when that started, but Hyunjin likes hearing about them. Says he’s known Minho for some time now, and he always used to mention a boy. He never knew that was Jisung, and Minho only revealed that after he and Seungmin started hanging out.
“Jisung says he likes him,” Seungmin says, casually. They’re sitting face to face on the swings, lightly pushing off with their feet. Hyunjin looks at him for a moment, and he feels strangely vulnerable. Then he laughs. “What?”
He shrugs. “Well, yeah. Hyung must like him too. I wonder if they’ll be boyfriends while hyung is still here.”
Right. Minho graduates in a few months. They haven’t really talked about it; the one and only time it was brought up he could feel jisung’s mood dip. Boyfriends, huh. How would that work out? They’d probably still go home together. Minho will get snacks and a coke unannounced for Jisung like he still does. They’ll hug whenever they see each other in the hallways. They’ll cling to each other and flirt during lunch. Maybe hold hands too.
Seungmin realizes that he doesn’t really know much about what they do outside school, how much they hang out without him. He also realizes that nothing will change. His swing slows to a stop. He looks at Hyunjin.
Huh.
14.
“Why did we stop talking to him?” Jisung asks. This conversation has been the fear he’s been nursing all this while. He stares at the creases in the bedspread; Jisung doesn’t even know it’s tearing him apart to keep on this topic. His world shattered a little once he heard that he’s coming back. “I mean, he was nice. You seemed to really like him. So it was surprising.”
Seungmin stays frozen. “What?”
Jisung doesn’t even notice. The pillow crumples under his palm and he shoves his face into it. Seungmin feels off balance, the carpet tugged away under his feet. He’s suspended, paralyzed. When he resurfaces, Jisung is still saying something about him. Seungmin has this sudden urgent need to go throw up in the bathroom, every single emotion in his body condensing in his throat. Get rid of it all. Get rid of his memory so he doesn’t have to become a mess every time he comes up in conversation.
How pathetic.
“I didn’t like him,” Seungmin says instead. “I’m not—not like that.” Jisung is too quiet, so he adds, “I guess he was nice. I don’t remember why either, maybe we just drifted apart. I mean, that happens. Did he say why he’s coming back? No way it’s just for a reunion, right?”
“Not really. Just mentioned he’ll be in town.” jisung is looking at him carefully. “You stopped talking to him. When we asked, you said he didn’t want to study together anymore.” Pause. “What really happened? This much discontinuity is unlike you, Seungminnie.”
“Nothing happened,” Seungmin says. After a beat, “it was my fault. I think it’s better I don't go.” Jisung's hand is on his back, a comforting weight. He seems hesitant, worried. He must’ve known something happened, but ten years ago Seungmin shut down this exact conversation. He knew not to push further. Their only direct link to him, Minho, was away too.
Jisung sighs and settles beside him. He doesn’t say anything else. His hand remains on his back. When he glances at him, there’s something like sympathy in his eyes. He likes to think this is simply the residual hurt of having left something undone. Never really closed that box, did he?
15.
At the reunion, Hyunjin comes alone.
The breath gets stuck in his throat when he sees him; still as radiant as the last time. He couldn’t trust himself to speak that day at the gallery, and Hyunjin, like an angel, cruised through that awkward interaction easily. He’s not shy meeting people, he knows what to say and when to listen. With Hyunjin… he can’t find the words on his tongue.
Through the gaps between strangers and friends alike, he watches Hyunjin. Something he’s been doing for some time now. Years now he’s been caught in his orbit. Always revolving around him in a fateful sort of way, even though he knows it’s now exactly fate. He’s a coward. But what is it that he would want if he knew he could want it?
The night deepens into something drunken, melancholic. Jisung is draped all over Minho, the incessant hyung, hyung, hyung resounding in his ears. Minho looks at him like he’s hung all the stars in the sky, like it pains him to look away. He’s never seen that look on his face, not even with his cats. He watches him play with Jisung’s hair, tip a glass into his mouth, wipe the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. Jisung looks at him like he always has, all adoring and utterly gone.
Seungmin feels like he’s intruding on something private, something that should be meant for closed doors. Somehow, he can’t look away. Curious to know what the air between them means. What Hyunjin’s gaze could mean. Minutes skip between them, and suddenly he’s watching Minho lean down and press his mouth to Jisung's.
It snaps him out of his daze. He can see them out of the corner of his eye; the way Jisung freezes in surprise, and then kisses back with desperate fervor. The way Minho sets back his glass without breaking the kiss, the way Jisung’s arms drape around his shoulder. Seungmin stubbornly stares at the floor, his eyes burning. He’s close enough to hear the way Jisung sighs like he’s been put out of his misery, the way Minho whispers are you going to remember this in the morning?
“Hyung,” Jisung breathes out, his voice raw. “Can you drive?”
When Minho tells him that they’re leaving, he pretends to be surprised. He doesn’t ask about Jisung, who’s clutching onto Minho's hand like his life depends on it. He wishes them a safe drive, and slumps back in his chair.
Hyunjin is nowhere to be seen.
16.
[unknown number]:
hey seungmin!
this is hyunjin, i got your number from minho
thought i should text you since i’m going to be in town for a while.
let’s catch up sometime?
Seungmin wakes up to a crisis, and goes to his class ruminating about it. He keeps unlocking and locking his phone throughout the day, his mind distracted even as he teaches. Minho, that son of a bitch. He can’t blame him either because no one knows about his little problem. It sounds stupid when he says it out loud. Hey, remember Hyunjin from high school? I get weird around him. Like, weird weird. Maybe don’t invite me to places if he’s going to be there too?
seungmin:
sorry, kinda busy
have a nice stay
hey Hyunjin. Long time no see
sure, let’s go for coffee? :)
hwang hyunjin:
sounds good!
you free this saturday?
seungmin:
yep that works
hwang hyunjin:
okay nice
can’t wait to see you :)
He shouldn’t have texted him back, he thinks with a growing sense of panic. He can see the nervousness radiating off him in the shop window, waiting for his little problem of over ten years to show up. He takes a deep breath. He replied, he’s already here, and there’s so many things he’s been wanting to say. This is the time he makes up for everything else and stops being a coward.
He falters as the door chimes. Hyunjin walks in, face searching and expectant. He scans the area and then visibly lights up when he sees him. He wonders if he’s been cruel to him. What does Hyunjin think of all this? He sees it too, right?
“Seungmin!” He slides into the seat in front of him. Hands him a flower. Seungmin stares at his own hand, the daisy on his palm. “Glad you could make it! Oh, that’s… it’s just something I picked up on the way. It’s not really… um—”
“Pretty.” Seungmin says, brushing the petals. He sets it aside gingerly, shuts his eyes for a second. He’ll think about everything that happens in this shop later. He’ll analyze their conversation later. He’ll try to trace the sunlight on Hyunjin’s face when he gets back home. For now, he basks in the warmth of Hyunjin’s gaze. In his unfiltered, sincere attention. In the way Hyunjin seems to know what he hasn't been able to say.
Not yet, anyway.
18.
19/8
hwang hyunjin:
sooo saturday, 9 am?
22/8
hwang hyunjin:
hey seungmin
i know this is a little soon but i have tickets to the aquarium
would you possibly be free this weekend?
27/8
hyunjin:
the pics came out well!
did you have fun today?
5/9
hyunjin:
hey Seungmin :D
you free tonight? There’s a new diner in town
it’ll be a date
19.
Seungmin switches seats next week. Their homeroom teacher pays it no attention but he feels Hyunjin’s eyes lingering on him all the way to his new seat. His days slowly revert back to their old routines. Alone then, alone now. Jisung tries to accompany him to places he doesn’t need to.
Prom comes around the corner. He dreads it, dreads the weeks leading up to it. Jisung is significantly down. He later comes to know that Minho is moving in with his girlfriend. “You okay?” He’d asked, handing him his usual juice sachet. They haven’t heard back from Minho in two weeks. Jisung looked at his hand, nodded and didn’t speak for the rest of the day.
By nature of crowded hallways and whispered rumors, he comes to know who Hyunjin is taking. He doesn’t go out of his way to know who it is, just that it’s some girl from his art class. Later that week, he asks if Jisung wants to go together just to put them both out of their misery: Seungmin from being alone, and Jisung from his tiny, tiny heartbreaks. Jisung agrees, laughing through teary eyes.
He ends up having to explain to everyone that they’re just going as friends for the rest of the week. Somehow, he thinks Hyunjin keeps looking at him in class. Saturday rolls by sooner than he wants it to, and they meet up at Seungmin’s house. They pregame on snacks and mutually agree to leave early and just come play tekken back home.
The night looks like a dream he’s not really a part of. There’s longing tugging at his heart, but he doesn’t know what it’s for: a small piece is the fact that they’re not in school anymore. But, he made peace with that long ago. He holds no such sentiment for misplaced nostalgia; what has to happen, will happen.
The tightness in his chest is larger than that, feeling empty like he was supposed to fill up the space with certain experiences but never really did so. He nurses the glass of juice, in a fishbowl of his own. And just when he thought the night couldn’t bring him to more, Hyunjin appears out of thin air and sits beside him. His date is nowhere to be seen.
“Hey,” he starts. Seungmin draws blanks after blanks. He looks ethereal. He’s not sure the Hyunjin he saw in class was real, or if the Hyunjin he explained calculus to in his room was a hallucination of sorts. He’s not sure if Hyunjin sitting beside him is real either. His touch is dreamlike, and his skin burns. His throat closes up. “Want another drink?”
He shakes his head. He feels warmth on his face; Hyunjin is looking at him. Please don’t say anything, he begs in his mind. He hears him sigh. “Seungmin,” he says, and his heart breaks at how soft his voice is. He stares straight ahead, hoping he’ll leave on his own. But this is Hyunjin. He’s never left on his own. “Say something.”
“You should go back to her,” is the first thing he says. It’s an awful thing, trembly and staticky. But it catches Hyunjin by surprise. He can tell because he jerks back slightly. He didn’t expect himself to say that either and he wonders why he’s suddenly worried about that.
“We’re attending as friends,” Hyunjin says carefully, gaze never leaving his face. He says it like he knows it’ll mean something to him, like he’ll find something to grasp onto. And Seungmin does. “Like you and Jisung. I know there’s talk, but nothing more.” He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t. He goes on, “I know we’re not friends. But it’s probably the last time we’re seeing each other, so…”
The last time?
“So I just wanted to say thanks for helping me with class.” Hyunjin is staring forward now, the warmth on his face now no longer from his gaze. Seungmin looks at him, surprised. “... and that I enjoyed our study sessions. A lot. And you have a—you sing really well. Your voice. I heard you sing once.” Hyunjin stands up. “That’s all.”
He starts to walk away and Seungmin moves like a man possessed. He grabs his hand, making Hyunjin freeze in his step, then realizes his grip is too desperate and lets go immediately. “Sorry. Thanks,” he says. His vision is a little blurry, like he’s going to cry. “I should—” Hyunjin nods, refusing to look at him. “Yeah. I should go. Sorry.”
He never got to play that guitar for him, he thinks miserably. He chokes on that guilt, blindly making his way out of the auditorium. Never told him that he saw him paint too. He’ll be a star wherever he goes.
Ten years later when he remembers this interaction, he’s not quite sure if that night actually happened.
20.
Minho and Jisung get together that week. He’s happy for them, especially elated for Jisung who he’s seen go through multiple heartbreaks over their hyung, and late night rambling about how the people he dates never seem to get him like minho did. Took them only about ten years.
He doesn’t tell them about Hyunjin.
Jisung notices, because of course he does. His inattention, him cancelling their sunday brunches because Hyunjin always asks to hangout over the weekend. He complies, frees up his schedule. Halfway through brunch he nudges his shoulder and tries to peek into his phone. Seungmin leans away, side-eyeing him. “Who you texting, dude?” His face is mischievous, teasing.
It’s just Hyunjin, right? He shows him the screen. Jisung looks at the texts, looks at the saved contact. Then looks back at him. “Hyunjin?” He asks, something light in his voice. A smile is creeping up on his lips. “Didn’t you two like—wow, I haven’t talked to him in forever! I didn’t know you guys kept in touch.”
“We don’t… it’s just that he’s staying here for a while.” Seungmin absentmindedly shuts off his phone. “We’re just hanging out when I'm free. Talking. You know how hard it is to keep in touch with people.”
Jisung grins at him. “Are you two… talking talking?”
That makes Seungmin pause and flush. If this had been ten years ago, he’d have shut the conversation down. He looks at his own lap; his silence is as good as an answer. Jisung gasps, hits his arm. “No way. No way? Oh my god, Seungminnie. That’s great!” Seungmin processes the reaction, fond. “You know, I really thought you liked him. Back in high school. You used to smile more with him.”
“Huh.” Seungmin feels strange. “Did I?”
“Yeah. You hated sharing lunch on pasta days but you always gave some to him. And you used to get mad when I was even five minutes late but you didn’t mind with him. And you walked home with him… you skipped hanging out with us to be with him. Minho hyung—he said Hyunjin wouldn’t shut up about you. You used your study time to help him even though I asked for the same thing and you refused.” He takes in a breath. “That’s why I was surprised when you got all cold with him.”
“Cold?” Seungmin asks, his heart sinking slowly. How has Hyunjin felt all these years, never having an explanation, getting close and then suddenly drifting apart again? Two lines that draw closer and closer, meet, only to emerge on opposite sides. He never apologized. Or told him how scared he was. Of everything, of himself, of Hyunjin. Especially of Hyunjin.
“I wasn’t supposed to be… you know.” His breath hitches. “Like boys. I was supposed to do my own thing. Be a good son, make my parents happy, marry a nice girl and settle down. This was—Hyunjin in high school… I didn't know what I wanted then. I didn’t know why I kept feeling the things I was supposed to feel for a girl . I didn’t even know that’s what it was.”
“Oh, Seungmin—”
“He was so nice to me,” he continues, eyes blankly fixed to the half empty coffee cup. “He was—he was everything. And I treated him like that. I was glad we didn’t have to meet anymore. I couldn’t take seeing my own indifference returned to me. But Hyunjin… it’s like he doesn’t even remember how awful I was. I don’t know why he wants anything to do with me.”
Jisung’s hand soothes against his back, this stupid smile on his face that he hates because he knows what it means. He looks fondly humoured, and for a brief moment he sees the boy he befriended in fifth grade. “Then do you know what you want now, Seungminnie?”
He sighs, rolls his eyes, pretends to be annoyed. Jisung laughs and gives him a side hug. “For the record, Hyunjin never forgot you. Isn’t this enough proof? He didn’t have to, but he made sure to think of you. It’s been ten years, Seungmin. Shouldn’t that mean something? Go ask him, honey. You’ll figure it out.”
21.
Hyunjin stretches, splaying his hands back on the bedspread. He looks away pointedly, telling himself that he’s a little annoyed he’s yawning while he’s trying to explain something so important. The exam is in a week. Hyunjin keeps making him laugh instead of listening to him.
He’s been here for two hours now. Finished cups of instant ramen and ice cream lie side by side. His house is on the outer side of the city, starkly on a different route from his own. Neither of them point out the fact that Hyunjin lied to him about that. The next time he glances at the clock, it’s already eight. “It’s getting pretty late.”
Hyunjin leans forward, elbows on the folding table. Seungmin freezes at the sudden proximity; his eyes are sparkling. “Stay over. Mom will be back soon. Eat dinner with us?”
“Hyunjin, I need to go back.” He turns the offer down as gently as he can. At the back of his mind, he knows that’s going to be a disaster. “My parents will be worried. I didn’t tell them I'd be this late, you know?”
“I’ll call them up. I’ll tell them you’re staying at my house! My bed is big enough for both of us. We can go to school together in the morning!” Hyunjin looks like a puppy like this, eager and hopeful, unknowing of the turmoil in Seungmin’s head. Desperately, he wishes he’d stop doing this. Secretly likes it anyway. “It would be so fun, Seungminnie.”
“I know, I know, but—” Seungmin sighs and ruffles his hair. Hyunjin leans into his hand, looking a little disgruntled. “My parents might get mad. I’ll really have to go.” He shoots him a small smile. “I’m sorry, I'll make it up to you later?”
“You better,” Hyunjin mutters, settling back in his place. He doesn’t return to his usual cheery self. Ten minutes later Seungmin asks if he’s mad at him, and he says no. But the air between them is different, stilted. He knows Hyunjin must have been looking forward to this, and he has a slight tendency to sulk. He’s not worried though; they’ll return to normal the next day.
Some part of him feels a little bad at seeing him so dejected and being the cause of it too. So when Hyunjin walks him to the street to say bye, he gently pulls him into a hug.
Hyunjin freezes against him. Slowly, honey like he melts. His whole body lights on fire, Hyunjin’s arms wrapping around him in this desperate, longing thing. His head clouds over, a heaviness in his eyes. He closes them, instead feels the warmth in his chest spread to the tips of his fingers and to his cheeks. His face is buried into the crook of his neck, and he hears him sigh. The air around them chilly, but Hyunjin squeezes tighter and there’s nothing else.
Seungmin is the first to break away. He opens his mouth but there’s only a puff of white smoke into the air. Hyunjin blinks, and then giggles. “You better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Seungmin makes no move, still staring at him. He can’t really see him though. He feels like he’s hit his head. And Hyunjin is—unbothered. Like he doesn’t see it. “Yeah.”
Ten years later, he rewinds that look in Hyunjin’s eyes. That tenderness, like he was seeing everything he wanted. Like Seungmin was someone he wanted to keep in his life forever, that thread never severed. Ten years older, he wishes Hyunjin kissed him, because even though he didn’t, it’s obvious he wanted to.
Coward as he was, he’d have come to a lot many realizations a lot quicker.
22.
seungmin:
hey hyunjin
there’s a new barbeque place nearby
would u want to go there together this saturday?
hyunjinnie:
of course!
seungmin:
it’s a date then
Hyunjinnie:
kim Seungmin did u just ask me out?
it’s a Date date, right?
seungmin:
i’ll see you soon :)
23.
Hyunjin arrives excited and pretty, a little giddy as he smiles up at Seungmin. There’s a lightness to him, a weight lifted. Almost immediately his heart clenches at having missed this—at having missed him, he realizes with a sudden ache. The boy he used to stare at instead of studying is only a part of what makes him. Seungmin wants to know him, know him in his entirety, wants to understand what makes him and why he’s so hopelessly drawn.
“Hi,” Hyunjin says, half stumbling to a stop in front of him. He’s shifting his weight, shifting the bag from one shoulder to another. Seungmin’s breath hitches; he can’t believe he finally has a chance to set things right after ten years. Hyunjin is smiling, which quickly turns into a giggle. Palm shielding his face, “why’re you looking at me like that?”
“Oh, I—” Seungmin starts and then stops. He should do this properly. He sucks in a sharp breath. “You look really good.”
Hyunjin looks away, walks past him to get to the restaurant door. He’s biting on his lip, smile threatening to break out. Seungmin can’t help the laugh that spills out of him when he’s pulled in by his hand and led through the door.
“Flatterer,” Hyunjin says, once they’re seated. He absentmindedly notes the corner spot, the pulled curtains. The flush that sits high on Hyunjin's cheeks. He rests his chin on his palm, fond eyes watching him. Quietly, “you look very handsome, Seungmin.”
And Seungmin—his heart kicks in his chest. He feels more alive than he’s ever dared to.
24.
Seungmin was called a model child. Praised for things that came so naturally to him: folding in his collar, tucking in his shirt, putting his plates in the sink, making his bed, organizing his room every week. Clean, meticulous, perfect. Something to set him apart from the other kids his age. Not messy, not unclean, never creating a scene. Quiet. Mature.
Seungmin tells him then, heart spilling out of his chest and onto the street. Alabaster chips dig into his thigh, his hands dirty and warm. He stumbles over his words trying to put ten years together in his head, he refuses to look at Hyunjin. Their knees touch slightly, and that point of contact never breaks even when he tells him he used to hate him.
Hyunjin takes his right hand—sweaty and shaking, he realizes then—and folds his own palm over his. He can’t look at him, face burning with the heat of late realizations and this sick ache of guilt in his chest. He swallows to keep his dinner down, sick to his stomach with the knowledge of the pain he’s caused.
“It was a long time ago,” is all Hyunjin says quietly once he’s done bleeding out. Sweet, beautiful Hyunjin, who never held it against him. He must’ve liked him too. Must’ve realized how large of a feeling it was for Seungmin’s frail body. He admires Hyunjin infinitely, he does. Hyunjin, his angel of sorts. Always quietly orbiting his life.
“I don’t understand how you can forgive me,” Seungmin blurts out. He covers his face. He’s asked that to himself but never realized how much of his life he’s spent wondering that. At first, questioning if he ever can, and then in acceptance of receiving a rejection. At the end of everything, it has to be him. If he does it all over again, it has to be him.
“Let me know you,” he says. The words are far away, so pleading and weak that it feels like it’s from someone else. Finally he looks up. And his heart kicks in his chest again, this feeling unknown but not unwelcome. He gets caught in the awe in Hyunjin's eyes, stuck in that honey web. Hyunjin’s hand moves imperceptibly over his. “Let me get to know you—again.”
“It was a long time ago, Seungmin,” Hyunjin repeats. Before he can think too much about it, he rests his forehead on his shoulder. “There’s nothing to forgive. I reached out because I know you’re worth it. We’ll start over, yeah? We’ll do all of it again. I’ll let you know me till you don’t want to anymore.”
Seungmin nods, even though he can’t see him. Bravely, he runs a hand through his hair, heart kicking into a flurry of emotion. Yeah, he thinks. All of it over again, and over and over. How could he not want to know him anymore? Hyunjin is eternally interesting to him. And when he thinks he isn’t, he still finds himself so hopelessly enamoured.
That crack that had opened up in his chest fills in with childish, nostalgic warmth. Cicada hum, warm grass and the flutter of wind through Hyunjin’s school uniform. Infinitely blue sky. Different settings, but he’s still encased in that summer air that he occasionally still smells in the evening.