Tuesday passed rather uneventfully as Hyukjae’s services were not needed. He slept in until he had a headache, then spend the day reading a book and cleaning what needed cleaning, which was not much. He found his thoughts drifting towards the artist often, and decided he was much too bored, and eventually went to take a walk around the neighbourhood.

He walked and walked until the sun was beginning to set, and then he went home to cook dinner. By the time he’d finished eating and cleaning his plates, the silence in the house became insufferable and Hyukjae found his mood had dead lined to a state of absolutely no feeling. He had nothing to do, nothing to be excited for and nothing to grieve over. It was only 8 o’clock, his eyes were not close to being tired and he found the nothingness of his routine overbearingly oppressive.

He eventually left the house and made his way to Midnight Blues.

“Oh. Hi. Welcome.” Sungmin said, pleasantly surprised. It took him a second to register that his friend was there, standing like a statue. He didn’t move even when Sungmin had finally acknowledged his presence. Slightly unnerved by the lack of personality in the apparition of a man standing in front of him, his hands took another second before they moved deftly to reach for a cup and a bottle behind him. “The usual?”

Hyukjae nod was stiff like that of a puppet as he sat down in front of the counter.

There was no live music during the weekdays, only a soft recorded CD playing quietly in the background, and the people were sparse.

“God. You look like. You look dead.” Sungmin said. He didn’t let go of the glass until he was sure Hyukjae’s fingers were secure around the glass.

“What happened with the artist?”

“Nothing. I went to visit him and I worked on his brother’s body. And then nothing.” Hyukjae said. “Nothing happened.”

The bartender noticed the disappointment in the flatness of Hyukjae’s words.

“You worked on his brother’s…? Oh. Right. Well, that’s something, I guess. You sure he hasn’t run away yet?”

Hyukjae wasn’t paying attention as he took a big gulp of the alcohol, swallowing much too fast, and began choking. His pupils dilated and his eyes widened as he coughed and spluttered, slamming the glass down on the counter. The few heads present in the dark bar turned to watch the spectacle.

He turned away from the counter as Sungmin reached over to pat and rub soothing circles on his back with an open palm. After coughing everything out of his system and regaining his breath, the bartender saw as he turned back that he looked a little bit more alive than before; his hair slightly disarrayed, a vein bulging from his temple, a light shade of pink to his neck and face, and his breathing fast and shallow and much more audible than before. He felt both relieved and concerned as he withdrew his arms back behind the counter to prepare a glass of warm water for his friend.

“You alright? Don’t overdo it. We’ve got all night.” Sungmin said, mixing the cold tap water into the hot and handing it over. He placed it down on the counter in front of Hyukjae anyway even as the brunette waved a hand to indicate that he didn’t need it.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I asked if you’d seen him.” Sungmin said, his face was that of completely unmasked concern. 

“I saw him-” Hyukjae coughed once more. “-yesterday morning. Didn’t look like he was going anywhere.”

“Hmm. Okay. So why are you here today?”

The question wasn’t harsh, only thoroughly worried-sounding. Hyukjae had his hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and waiting for it to calm. He eventually let out the heaviest sigh that Sungmin had heard in a long time, as if a big boulder were squashing down his lungs.

“… I’m bored.”

The words were so empty and heavy at the same time that they felt like a weight on Sungmin himself.  

“Geez, don’t sigh like that, you’re making me depressed.” He said, half-jokingly. He grabbed a glass and poured a drink for himself, before lifting it towards Hyukjae. He had to lift his glass at him twice before the brunette found the energy to pick up his own and clink glasses with him. They toasted to nothing, simply touched glasses and took a sip each.

“I’m so bored I could die right now, Sungmin.” Hyukjae said, staring through the yellowish liquid in his glass and focusing on the magnified patterns of the wooden counter underneath. “I could die, right here, right now. And I would have absolutely no regrets. I’d be totally okay with it. I wouldn’t feel a thing.”

Sungmin did not know how to reply to these words, especially with the heavy solemnity with which Hyukjae said them. He stood there feeling equal parts worried and helpless.

“You wouldn’t feel a thing what?” A familiar, dark voice spooked them both.

“God. Could you try to make yourself-.” Sungmin swatted a tea-towel over the counter to attack the incoming waiter, and missed. The waiter balanced a tray of used glasses in one hand and grinned victoriously. “I’d like to remind you this is a danger zone.” Sungmin pointed at the vast array of glasses in front of him and hanging above him. “If you scare the out of me and I break something-”

“Relax. You won’t.” Yesung tossed a dirty tea-towel over the counter into the sink and slowly began loading the glasses onto the counter one by one, as if he had all the time in the world.

“You know what, I should put a bell on you.” Sungmin said, staring pointedly at the waiter who was wearing an innocent look. “I think it would be cute.”

“Awwww. Like a kitty cat.” Yesung said in a playful voice, then added under his breath “But where’s the fun in that.” The bartender’s eyes flashed, then he pushed himself away from the counter and moved towards the fridge. Yesung slid his large tray to the end of the table and settled down in on a seat next to Hyukjae.

He nudged Hyukjae, who was now chuckling under his breath from the previous interaction.

“So what were you guys on about?”

“Oh, just.” Hyukjae pressing his smile down. “Nothing. Nothing important.”

“Hmm.” Yesung hummed. “Alright then.”

The dark-haired waiter drummed the fingers on the table and leaned his face into the palm of the other hand, elbow propped up on the counter.

“What brings you here today?” He asked, curiously and then added without skipping a beat, “Did you miss us that much?”

Hyukjae found himself smiling wide again. “No. Yeah. I was bored.”

“Ahhh, boredom.” Yesung did an upwards nod of acknowledgement and continued to bob his head in slow nods. “No bodies to work on these days?”

“Mm. No.” Hyukjae replied.

“Don’t you need to check up on them daily or something?”

“I could, yeah.”

“I guess dead people don’t make for such fun company.”

“Yeah.” Hyukjae said, lifting his drink. “No.”

“That’s why you get a job like mine.” Yesung sounded so enthusiastic that Hyukjae did not know if he was joking or not. Yesung worked three jobs and all in hospitality. “I mean sure, you clean and stuff, but you get to see and meet people. You can never get bored of people.”

“I don’t know.” Hyukjae looked to him, then back at his drink. “I’m not really a people person.”

“Sure you are. You can be.” The waiter said, patting his back. “If you can be around people, and you can talk to them and make them feel good, that’s people person enough.”

Hyukjae let out a short laugh. “I can’t make people feel good.”

Yesung shrugged. “Maybe you just don’t know it.”

A question burned inside Hyukjae. “How do you not get bored?”

“Me?”

“You do the same job every day, you clean up after people, you go home and sleep. Then you get up and clean again.” Hyukjae said. “How do you not get bored?”

“Oh. Well, of course I do.” Yesung said, sounding unoffended and somewhat amused. “Everyone gets bored. You have a rich job, you get bored. You have a poor job, you get bored.” He turned to face Hyukjae directly.

“Are you bored of embalming bodies? You can always quit and find something else.”

He shrugged. “I’m good at it. It pays well. It has its own rewards.”

Yesung nodded understandingly. “Well.  That’s good. As long as you like it. I can’t say much about the pay for me but, I have an easy job and yeah it’s boring sometimes but I like the people I work with and that’s more than enough for me.”  Yesung said, turning to sit straight again, folding his arms on the table. “And I’m pretty sure the people I work with like me too. This guy for instance…” he said, as Sungmin made his way back towards them.

Earlier, they had heard the ding of the microwave and paid it not much thought, and now they stared wide-eyed and confused as Sungmin placed a large dish-like bowl full of steaming milk in front of Yesung.

“Milk.” Sungmin announced. “For the kitty cat.”

“Wow. Really.” Yesung said, in an unimpressed voice. Hyukjae stifled a laugh as he lifted his drink to his lips.

Sungmin didn’t look at him, determined not to care.

“Everything you drink here is on the house. You take what you get.”

“But I want what he’s having.” Yesung half-whined. He pushed the bowl back towards the bartender. “Please.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

“I don’t like milk!”

“That is too bad.”

“Please.”

“No.”

These words were exchanged with lightning fast pace and almost overlapping. It ended with Sungmin glaring daggers at Yesung for a long, long moment before he finally shut the sink tap and relented.

“Fine.”

Yesung beamed. “Thank you, Sungminnie.” He ignored the way Sungmin shuddered at the address and turned to Hyukjae. “See? This guy loves me. He likes having me here.”

Sungmin scoffed. “You keep telling yourself that.” He began mixing Yesung’s favourite cocktail.

Hyukjae took the usual dose of sleeping pills in case he couldn’t sleep that night.

*

A new body arrived on Wednesday morning, and Hyukjae was called into work. He spent much of the day slowly preparing the body, which was straight forward given that the deceased had passed simply of old age, no injuries or sickness that made the body more complicated task, and so there was not much work to be done.

In the evening, he waited outside the record shop, hands delved into his pockets. He looked through the record shop glass window to see the friendly face of the manager at the counter who waved at him. He waved back, then shoved his hand back into his pocket and kept waiting.

He waited perhaps ten minutes before a black car pulled up along the sidewalk and parked in front of him. A man in his early thirties climbed out of the passenger seat, wearing a thick woollen scarf and a trench coat. His coat was not buttoned up and Hyukjae noticed he still had not removed the badge he wore during working hours. It read “Dr. Park Jeongsu, Physician/Psychologist”. He locked his car and before walking around the car and up to meet Hyukjae with a smile on his face.

“Did you wait long?”

Hyukjae shook his head as the man approached. “No. Hyung.”

“Good. Follow me then.” The doctor inclined his head towards the direction they were to walk and Hyukjae followed. He had decided on hot noodles two blocks away to fight the chilly weather. 

“I don’t think I need to take you into the record shop anymore. That’s something of your own now. You can do that in your own time, or not, if you don’t want to.” He said to Hyukjae as they walked. “It’s not therapy or anything. I’m not making you do it, okay? I was, but that wasn’t therapy. I just wanted you to try something different.” Jeongsu was rambling, filling the space between them. “Just do what you want, okay?”

“Okay.” Hyukjae replied.

The older man shivered in his coat. “We can talk more after we sit down at a table.”

“Sure, Hyung.”

They ducked under the short cloth that hung from the entrance and entered a warm little noodle shop. They took a table in the back corner. Jeongsu left his jacket on his seat before he went to fetch pairs of chopsticks for the both of them, as well as napkins and two cups and a jug of warm water, bringing them all back to the table.

“Oh, thanks, Hyung.” Hyukjae said as he approached, balancing all the things in his hands.

“Mm.” Jeongsu replied non-committally. “Here. Here.” He handed the utensils over to Hyukjae and started on pouring the water.

“Excuse me!” He called out towards the kitchen, still pouring the water. “One salty broth pork noodle please!” He looked to Hyukjae expectantly. “What do you want?”

“Um.” Hyukjae didn’t mind. “Just the same.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. The same is fine.”

Jeongsu craned his neck towards the direction of the kitchen again.

“Make that two salty broth pork noodles please!”

As they waited for the food to arrive, they both warmed their hands around the hot cups of water. A fan in the corner of the ceiling hummed above them and blew cold wind across the room.

“How have you been? It’s been a month.” Jeongsu said. He blew gently on the surface of his water.

“I’ve been fine.” Hyukjae said. He looked up briefly at Jeongsu’s face, seeing the familiar tiredness but contentedness that was Jeongsu. “And you?”

 “Good, good as always. The clinic is doing well. So is my little girl.” Jeongsu smiled fondly. “It’s her birthday in a week.”

Hyukjae nodded, smiling down at the table. “I see.”

They sat for a short while in silence, not talking, but not uncomfortable; a mutual silence where they simply relaxed and didn’t mind the other, but didn’t completely shut off awareness either.

More customers walked in and took their seats by the window, a distance from where they sat, and they both turned to observe them briefly.

“I got a call, yesterday morning.” The doctor said. He introduced the topic so casually, so unremarkably, that it took Hyukjae another heartbeat took a while to register the words. “It was the police. They asked me about your sessions with me. I told them the truth, Hyukjae.” He met Hyukjae’s eyes. “That there was, and is, nothing wrong with you.”

Hyukjae didn’t nod, didn’t reply for a few moments. He only stared into his cup and put his feet together under the table.

“But I still can’t sleep properly… During the day, I always feel… tired.  I don’t know why I can’t sleep at night. Without the pills.”

“You might be overthinking things.” Jeongsu said, far from accusing. “When’s the last time you tried sleeping without the pills?”

It had been recent, and Hyukjae needed a few seconds to remember the exact day, but the older man read the delay as fact that it had been a long while.

“You can do fine without them, Hyukjae. In fact, the longer you stay on them, the harder it’ll be to go without them. You don’t need them, but it becomes habit.” Jeongsu said, cautioning.

“The police.” Hyukjae hesitated shortly. “How much did they tell you?”

 Jeongsu took a slow sip of the hot water at this.

“Mm!” He hummed in approval as he drank, then said “It’s really warm. You should drink some before it gets cold.”

He gestured for Hyukjae to do so, and he did. As Hyukjae drank, he started talking again.

“Look, Hyukjae. I don’t have to be a doctor to tell you that you’re not someone who would just hurt anyone.” Not two years ago and not now.” He tried to meet Hyukjae’s eyes, but they wouldn’t meet his. “You can tell me what’s going on. Or you don’t have to. It’s fine. I’ll believe what you say.”

He gave Hyukjae the few moments he knew he would need to think.

“… Okay.”

He told Jeongsu everything about Donghae, about the blackmail and Eri, and how he’d visited the artist to ask for his dead brother’s picture, how they’d talked more.

“What a strange coincidence.” Jeongsu had said, then after some more thought, added “I understand your desire to help the man. But please be careful. For your own sake.” He was so sympathetic and understanding and Hyukjae found that he couldn’t look into his eyes.

The noodles had already arrived by then and were starting to cool. Jeongsu was quick to urge him to start eating, and told him that they would continue talking later, after they’d filled their stomachs. 

Jeongsu had a healthy appetite, being famished after a long day of working at the clinic. He was the first to finish all his noodles and had drank half his soup before putting his bowl down on the table to speak.

“You know, Hyukjae.” He used the tissue to wipe his mouth then rested his wrists on the table. “You’re very generous. And brave.”

Hyukjae couldn’t say anything with his mouth full, but he looked to Jeongsu questioningly. He worked at his food as Jeongsu kept talking.

“I don’t know how other people would react, but I’m sure if that artist had arrived at my door and told me to wait a week, I wouldn’t have given him the time. I wouldn’t have believed him.” Jeongsu said, watching Hyukjae eat. “I would’ve gone straight to the police.”

“I’ve said this before but… it might be your job, you know? There are a number of jobs out there that include seeing dead bodies on a regular basis as a job description, but that doesn’t mean it’s normal, but it’s normal for all specialist jobs to have some kind of… side effect. In the same way athletes get aches and musicians get callouses, you have to sacrifice a bit of normalcy too. You see dead bodies more than you normally should. And it might sound cliché, but it’s true. Seeing someone dead, murdered, it’s just one of those things you don’t get used to. Even after a long time in the field.”

When Hyukjae had finally finished his noodles, he stopped talking to finish his own soup as well, which had gone cold by then.

They wiped their mouths with the napkins, and discarded them on the table.

“I’ll pay.” Jeongsu said, and Hyukjae couldn’t even stop him because he already had his wallet in his hands and was making his way to the cash register.

They sat there and talked a bit longer about how Jeongsu would celebrate his daughter’s birthday, which particular musicians Hyukjae had taken a liking to as of recent, how Jeongsu was learning to cook now because his wife was working irregular late shifts during the week, which meant he had to close up his clinic earlier, which was fine, because Jeongsu only had to work so many hours in a week anyway. They didn’t want to have to keep leaving their daughter late at the day care or making her eat takeout. Jeongsu had to cook more often but he didn’t have many dishes he knew how to prepare. Hyukjae told him about a few vegetables and ingredients that could be used across a range of dishes, which Jeongsu noted down to add to his shopping list.

They ended up going grocery shopping at a small vegetable and fruit shop that Hyukjae knew was open until late. They walked through the aisles of large trays of dampened vegetables and piles of fruit, swatting the flies away. Jeongsu carried the basket as Hyukjae sifted through the piles and pointed out which to buy and to inspect it for freshness.

At the end, Jeongsu paid and thanked him.

“Thanks, Hyukjae. Really.” Jeongsu said to him as they walked out of the store. They had a number of bags to carry back to Jeongsu’s car, which they divided amongst themselves equally.

“No problem, Hyung.”

Tonight, their stomachs were full and they’d accomplished Jeongsu’s grocery shopping. The walk back was slow despite the cold and filled with phatic exchange.

“You’re the only patient that I’ve had meals with, that I’ve taken to music shops, that has taken me grocery shopping. You know that, right?” Jeongsu said as they turned the corner and spotted his car, his voice was a hint of teasing. “So you should feel special.”

Hyukjae nodded, a half-smile on his lips. “Yes, Hyung.”

They arrived at the car, put the bags in the back, and shut the trunk. Jeongu lifted his sleeve to check the time.

 “Ah. Your daughter must be waiting.” Hyukjae said on realisation.

Jeongsu chuckled. “No. It’s okay. My wife didn’t have the night shift today so she said she would look after Soomin for tonight.” He put his hands back into his pockets. “I did tell her that I would be home before 9.30 though.”

Jeongsu yawned without covering his mouth and sniffed. He turned to Hyukjae. 

“Look after yourself, okay? And if you ever need anything, just call me and talk to me.”

Hyukjae nodded, thankful. “Okay.”

“Call me when everything’s over. With the artist. And tell me how things go.” Jeongsu said, walking over to the driver seat of the car, body still facing Hyukjae. He looked down to find the door handle then looked up again.

“Do you want a ride home?”

“It’s okay. I’ll walk.” Hyukjae turned his chin towards the direction down the road. “I don’t live far from here.”

Jeongsu opened the driver’s seat door but didn’t getting in. He took another dramatic sniff of the cold air.

“On second thought, I’m not giving you a choice. It’s cold. Get in.”

Hyukjae nodded.

“Thanks, Hyung.”

“No. Thank you Hyukjae.” Jeongsu was half-chuckling, half-shaking his head as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Thank you.”

**​*