{ s i x . o n e  }

What did she say?

Somewhere, in the middle of nowhere and not-really-anywhere—I don’t know. Was that it? A place that truly existed? Or imaginarily existed? No, or yes. It might be both, I could never be sure whether this was even really it or complicatedly and untruly just a vacant void in my soul. Whatever it was, void or not, I reckoned wouldn’t be really mattered—as I felt myself drenched in black, totally void of any color, and everything else seemed nothing but pitiful lightless.

It was cold. It was dark. It was burning aflame behind my eyelids and it also felt like everything was clad in absolute nothingness. It was just me and myself, floating or falling deeper and deeper into a bottomless abyss, consumed by definite emptiness. That wasn’t an assuring thought, I knew, but that was the only assurance I had within this state of mind.

It was suffocating, paralyzing. Some parts of me were dying. I felt lifeless like this, but strange enough, the other parts; the ones that weren’t dying, were aching. My eyes stung. My throat hurt. My body burnt like my insides were flaring fire in the most crucial way possible. Although, somehow, my skin felt like crawling on the surface of an ice cube. Congealed.

Now, with the hellish heat inside and the deathly cold outside, it was hardly understandable why I hadn’t shattered yet.

Then, the faintest of light appeared in the far corner of the obscure canvas I was in like a small candlelight, dancing leisurely toward me. Somehow, it gave me the feeling of warmth and fuzzy. Everything suddenly seemed bearable, if not tolerable, as if in a peaceful dream. But, no, it didn’t last long because what I realized next was the light stung, mercilessly tore the illusion apart, then it started running and filled what I assumed was my eyesight with thousands more dots that spread all over the place. Shining, blinding.

I was drenched in white now. Ultimate lightness, unforgiveable bliss, filled me. Even so, just like every good thing that happened, it didn’t last long enough. Slowly but surely, the said light morphed into something else. I couldn’t tell how could that possibly happen, but it faded and somehow, I saw a window. Bright, soulful blue sky outside it. Then, I saw a vase. Then, roses; a bucket of roses. Then, a room. A simply plain room with a boy sitting on what I assumed was a hospital bed. Bandages all around his forehead.

I blinked once, then twice. My head felt strange like there was a goldfish inside it, bubbling air and swimming around and around, repeatedly making the same circle. It suddenly ached. Painful. I tried to make everything clear, but everything simply stay the opposite.

Stifling a groan, I closed my eyes and exhale. When I opened it again, the sight of the boy on the bed—somehow, I didn’t know how—cleared everything away.

This happened years ago.

I sat up straight at the knowledge and shifted my full attention to the other occupant of the room. The sight of the boy, which I witnessed with no delight, was painful enough to make me shuddered with worry. The said boy’s figure was anything but good. There were scratches and bandages everywhere, covering almost all of his once porcelain skin. What left of the said skin was a rather sickly picture of paleness.

I took a deep breath to stay calm but it hitched midway when suddenly the boy’s face turned to me, offering a shy smile that began to flourish in such a dangerous speed that I couldn’t help but think it might broke his already fragile skull. His eyes met mine and my throat suddenly felt dry because his face was… something beyond worst. Only by looking at him, my body ached as if I was suffering in his place.

I bit my lip. Despite how wretched his whole being absolutely was, those radiant orbs of his looked so lively.

I couldn’t help but wondered, he wasn’t a human being, was he? No human can bear such peace in a shell that shattered in pieces like his. That was a gift and a curse at the same time. I didn’t know what or who to blame for giving him such demolition to endure.

We settled in silence for a few moment. A not so awkward, but also not really comfortable kind of silence. It was as if I was waiting for an answer or maybe I did because somehow, in between the said silence, something in the back of my mind reminded me to say something, anything, because I started this conversation. I couldn’t tell exactly what conversation in this state of mind, but that wasn’t my main concern. All that mattered was what I could, or should, say next and what would, or could, be his reply.

So, I bit my bottom lip before forcing it to move and formed an audible sound that sounded more like someone was blocking my bronchial tube.

“So…” The dryness was back and strangling. “What do you think?”

The boy turned away from me—maybe he finished dawning my poor expression after I said them all, whatever that ‘them’ was—as a gust of wind from the opened window caressed him. His shoulder length hair swayed graciously in the air. He looked like a work of art. Exquisiteness and irony.

It looked like he was lost in thought as he hummed softly, contemplating what kind of answer he could give, before finally he opened his mouth and said, “I think, you are in love with him.”

That got me, for some reason I couldn’t really comprehend because memories kept on bouncing on the walls of my mind like crazy, blinked in surprise. I should have been stunned, well, I was, for a few strangling seconds, before my mouth moved on its own.

“But isn’t it wrong to harbor such feelings to your best—”

“As far as I know,” he cut me off with a loopy smile as he faced me again and there was a something in his voice that shut me up effectively, “falling in love with your best friend isn’t a crime yet.” Then he chuckled merrily, fringe bounced up and down to the beat of his body. I failed to see why he thought that statement was amusing. “I mean, love is that weird anyway. You don’t get to choose who you will fall for. You just have to accept it…”

His face, his already soft like a silk face, softened even more.

“…And fight for it.”

It hit me right in the heart.

Then, he lifted his thin arm and placed an emollient yet cold palm on the back of my petrified hand. His bright and warm like a bonfire eyes stared into mine as if he could see the chaos inside with ease before he caressed my hand lightly—too light, I almost missed that motion if I couldn’t see him doing it. It was soothing though, and I wondered, wasn’t it him who should be reassured that everything would be alright?

“Wonwoo-ya,” he started moving his lips again and took his hand back, folding it together with the other one on his lap, “telling him might sound appalling, what’s with all the uncertainty and risk it could slap your face with.” He raised the side of his lips up. “By saying this, I am fully aware of how much of a coward I truly am because frankly, I’m also afraid of it. But even so, I want you to try something I couldn’t.”

I didn’t dare move a muscle or more like the other’s eyes stunned me effortlessly.

“Judging from your story, you have more chance than I do. Well, yeah, I’m in love with someone too.” He winked at this. Again, I couldn’t see a reason as to why he could joke about that. Or was that a front? He continued anyway. “For me, being beside them is enough even if sometimes I found myself hoping they could be mine. That’s different from your case, right?”

He managed another light chuckle.

“You can make him yours.”

There was a smile, a blurry one, before everything changed again.

I was standing in front of a crack of a mahogany door now. It came in a blur at first before I could see a clear view of what was behind the barely opened door. It looked like a very luxurious room, but what I had in focus wasn’t the expensive interiors. Instead, it was a man in navy blue suit whose back was turned to me although I could see a bit side of his face and that was enough to send my heart leaping on a marathon. My palms were sweating too, but for a very different reason. That reason was the other occupant of the said room.

A woman in her early forties, sitting cross-legged on an expensive looking crimson couch that complimented her beige silk dress, was facing him. Her expression firm, mouth shut in a thick line of read, and something in her russel eyes made me held my breath as if the air was poison that could kill in flick of a hand.

“A small restaurant owner?” Suddenly came a rather harsh tone from the woman’s dark velvet pursed lips. I couldn’t come up with a reason as to why I was standing in such place like an eavesdropper, but I knew, I should go. I didn’t move a muscle, though. Or more like I couldn’t.

“Son—Mingyu dear.” The woman called. Her voice wavered a bit as she ended it with a sigh. “If you were to be gay, at least choose someone from our ‘class’. Like Jeonghan. Not someone like ‘him’.” Then, she snorted in disgust as I felt my insides crashed and burnt, leaving everything in a mess of ashes. I felt empty, hurt—but mostly pain. It was like there were needles on my skin because every move hurt like hell. The needles might be in my lungs as well because every take of breath ached beyond compare.

The pain didn’t stop right there, though, as if I hadn’t had enough torture in hands. I had to face another one and that one was the worst of all. Said torture wasn’t how Mrs. Choi voiced her sentence like she was describing a trash. It was Mingyu. It was how he just sit there, unmoved. He didn’t say anything and his silence was more aching and killing because it looked like he agreed with her.

It was like he agreed I didn’t deserve him.

Everything turned dark again as I shut my mind down. I felt the flood of pain, sorrow, hopelessness, helplessness submerged me into the depthless abyss of misery that my mind ruefully created so I could realize that sometimes, no one would be there for me. Not anyone who wanted me anyway. It would just be me, the darkness, the numbing feeling, and maybe some monsters waiting for me down there.

Even so, darkness could never kill me, I was always numb if not dumb, and the monsters weren’t the ones I was afraid of. Instead, it was those little voices that told me that everything was a dream, but it was not really a dream either. I was afraid because they said the truth. Parts of this dream really did happened in the past. They had had happened and in the middle of it, they had had become an absolute reason for everything I did now.

When consciousness knocked on my door, or more like it banged on my door, I woke up to a mixed scent of sandalwood, star jasmine, golden amber, and vanilla dancing in the air. Not only that, a warm, fluffy white thing covered my back and that made me felt like I was blanketed in thousand fur balls that smelt like aromatherapy.

It was soothing, calming. I wanted nothing but to keep my eyes closed again and let the fragrant air filled my lungs and emptied my brain, unknotting the tangled windings inside. I could sleep more like this if only I didn’t remember what the land of dream had taken me to before.

It wasn’t something new to me, though; having nightmares about those scenes I would rather forget, remembering dreadful things that felt so real. They were like everyday occasions in my schedule except in those times when I had someone’s arms around me, shielding me like a barrier from those monsters of a nightmare.