Tears

On this Friday evening, it was almost one week left until Yixing’s departure and the return of Junmyeon’s parents.

Junmyeon sat in the living room, scrolling through the TV as he waited for Yixing. They were going to watch a movie when Yixing came back from his night walk with Trost.

He still thought about their almost-kiss on the Ferris wheel. Junmyeon knew he had felt things, many things back then, and he had come to one conclusion. But he didn’t dare to say it. He felt afflicted. He wanted to believe Yixing reciprocated that feeling due to that moment, and perhaps they could become something more. However, Junmyeon was afraid to ask because he had nothing to offer. As he was now, he would just be Yixing’s burden. Surely, Yixing knew how to care for him, but he didn’t want that. No, Junmyeon didn’t want Yixing to pity him or be overwhelmed by his ineptness. But at the same time, Junmyeon wanted to say it because the thought of losing Yixing like this was far frightening. Yixing would leave next Saturday and then who knew when they would ever meet again? There was a chance that in the time that passed, Yixing would fall in love with someone else. Was it selfish that Junmyeon didn’t want that to happen?

He continued scrolling through the channels but stopped when he heard something, that familiar sound at the beginning of every race. “The 400m freestyle final relay has started! Seems like a great start for the…” spoke the sports commentator.

During his time of grief, Junmyeon had disconnected from what was going on in the world. These days he usually avoided thinking back on the things he had lost. But the world didn’t stop just because he had closed his eyes from it, no, of course, it wouldn’t.

Six minutes, that was how long Junmyeon heard the narrators on the screen. Six minutes where memories mixed with anger, disappointment, sadness, and impotence flooded his mind with every word the announcers uttered. Six minutes, that was how long his fists remained squeezed. When the race ended, the sound of broken glass resonated in the living room accompanied by forlorn sobs and tears.

Meanwhile, Yixing strode in the woods with Trost. He admired the surrounding scenery. The dark sky, the trees swooshing in the wind, even some owls howling in the distance, the crickets singing. Yixing would miss all of this as well. Who knew when they would return to these peaceful tracts?

Most importantly, who knew when he would ever see Junmyeon again? It was a sad question with an unknown answer. By now Yixing knew he had realized that he was harboring a crush for Junmyeon, and he wasn’t sure how pertinent that was. They were just friends, nothing more, nothing less. But their incident at the Ferris wheel may suggest otherwise. Then again, Junmyeon lived here while he lived in Seoul. And even if Junmyeon had done many brave things and slowly changed his ways, he was still fragile. Junmyeon needed time to heal himself and find his own path in life again. Surely, having someone by your side who supports you, encourages you, loves you, can be helpful.

However, there was still a part of his life that Yixing hadn’t shared with Junmyeon. Yixing was unsure of the other’s reaction when he told him. Will Junmyeon understand him? Or will he feel disappointed and terrified? Considering the fiasco that occurred with his former partner, he was afraid to find out for sure. Even he could have his own insecurities.

Yixing and Trost were back in the house now. As Yixing drew closer to the porch he could hear a wailing. His brows furrowed, his heart sank, and his eyes reflected nothing but concern. He rushed into the living room.

What Yixing saw broke his heart: Junmyeon was kneeling on the floor next to the coffee table. Tears rolled down his cheeks uncontrollably. Desperate cries resonated in the room. And what almost made Yixing lose his mind was the fact that Junmyeon’s hands were stained with that daunting color, his clothes as well.

“Oh, my god,” Yixing said. H ran and squatted down beside Junmyeon.

Junmyeon didn’t say anything but continued crying.

Carefully, Yixing grabbed Junmyeon’s hands. As he observed them, he mentally thanked every deity out there. It wasn’t what his mind had originally thought of, no, they were superficial cuts, probably caused when Junmyeon’s fists smashed the coffee table. Then, Yixing saw what the TV was displaying: the Olympics. His heart sank again.

Yixing moved closer to take Junmyeon in his arms, not caring that he would be getting blood stains as well. His hands caressed Junmyeon’s back. He didn’t have any sentences that could bring Junmyeon a bit of solace. So, he just hugged him. Despite Yixing had wanted to give Junmyeon more time to calm down, he needed to take care of Junmyeon’s cuts. “Junmyeon, we have to clean your wounds,” he said, “Let’s stand up.”

Junmyeon didn’t answer this time either. He still cried. Junmyeon still stood up along with Yixing, and let himself be guided by him.

Yixing took them to the bathroom in Junmyeon’s room. First, he washed Junmyeon’s hands in the sink, cleansing them from the blood. Only a few of the cuts were still bleeding lightly. He sat Junmyeon on the toilet seat. Yixing grabbed the emergency kit from the cabinet and kneeled beside Junmyeon. He took some antibiotic ointment and carefully smeared a thin layer on the wounds. Maybe it was because Junmyeon was still shedding tears, but he didn’t wince in pain. So, Yixing continued with his task. Lastly, he took a sterile pad and placed it on the wounds, and with a tubular bandage, he sealed the cuts in each hand.

“Done,” Yixing said and looked at Junmyeon, whose cheeks were smudged with tears and blood, his nose was running, his lovely eyes were puffy, and sobs continued being articulated from his lips. The image caused Yixing heartache, a pain in his throat, watery eyes. He hated to know there was nothing he could do except let Junmyeon relieve his pain and anger. Yixing stood up and grabbed a small towel. He dampened the cloth and went back to dab Junmyeon’s face carefully, cleansing him from the smudge of tears. Yixing helped Junmyeon stand up again. He led him to the bedroom. But before tucking him into bed, he saw Junmyeon’s stained pajama t-shirt. Yixing went to grab a new one from the closet. He stood behind Junmyeon. “I’m gonna change your shirt.”

Junmyeon didn’t protest.

Yixing grabbed the t-shirt by its hem and folded it upwards as Junmyeon raised his arms. He saw Junmyeon’s toned back, broad shoulders, and smooth skin. His heart beat agitatedly, and his cheeks were flustered. But rapidly he ignored his silly reactions and helped Junmyeon put on the clean t-shirt. Subsequently, he removed the duvet and guided Junmyeon to bed, tucking him in.

“Junmyeon, there are some tissues on your nightstand… If you need anything else, just say so.”

Junmyeon didn’t answer again but continued bawling.

However, Yixing hadn’t dared to leave the room. He had stopped under the doorframe and observed Junmyeon. Afraid that Junmyeon would be spending the night shedding tears alone, something he had been familiar with, Yixing walked back to stand in front of the bed. He saw his own shirt was wet and stained with blood. He took it off but didn’t go grab another one. Yixing didn’t want to leave Junmyeon, he didn’t want to see him fall apart in solitude. No, he wanted to be there for him. And that was why Yixing did was he was about to do. It would perhaps cross the boundaries as friends, heck even as a caregiver, but it didn’t matter. He removed his shoes and socks. Then, Yixing got on the bed, snuggled under the duvet, and once again held Junmyeon in his arms, close to his heart as tears soaked his chest. Again, Yixing didn’t say any encouraging words, there weren’t any that could take Junmyeon out of his current grief. Instead, he just whispered, “I’m here Junmyeon… I’m here with you.”

And that was when Junmyeon reacted. It was a funny thing. A few months ago, Junmyeon had also been a sobbing mess in his room and even had tried to cut himself to death to sooth his pain. Junmyeon had felt so utterly broken, that he had cursed everyone who had tried to save his life, including his parents. Right now, Junmyeon once again still ached, he was still hurt, he was still desolated, he was still angry. Yet despite feeling this way, although he was weeping shamelessly, he didn’t want to fall back into that dark place and being in Yixing’s embrace slowly recomforted him. Junmyeon found some solace in those arms, he found warmth in that chest, and he found relief in Yixing’s voice and words. He wasn’t alone. And he wished he would never have to be. Then, Junmyeon moved his arms to hold Yixing too.

The rest of the night Junmyeon kept crying silently in Yixing’s grasp. Sometimes his howls of misery stopped, and Yixing carefully cleaned his smudged face. But the tears came back and flooded down his eyes once more as more memories and bitterness came, yet Yixing was there with him. Until Junmyeon shed his final tear and gradually he calmed down. He snuggled closer to Yixing’s bare damp chest.

Yixing stopped caressing the Junmyeon’s hair. “Sleep well, Junmyeon,” he rustled. Then, with the lightest of touches, his lips kissed Junmyeon’s head.

Their sleeping position was intimate, affectionate, warm, cozy, like a nest of lovers. Yet, neither of them moved, neither of them said they should. They just closed their eyes together and held each other tightly as sleep overtook them.

The next day it was around late morning when Yixing woke up to an empty bed. His chest felt cold without Junmyeon. Instantly his morning haze vanished, and he got up to search after Junmyeon. He found him sitting in one of the patio recliners. Trost laid on the floor beside Junmyeon, and he caressed the dog’s fur. Yixing walked to sit on the chair next to him.

“Morning, Yixing,” Junmyeon said in a hoarse tone.

A half-smile formed on Yixing’s lips as he looked at Junmyeon. “Good morning, Junmyeon. How are you feeling?” he asked.

Junmyeon sighed. “Better than last night… I’m sorry for making you stay up all night to wipe my tears.”

“Crying is a form of therapy, but I also know that crying in solitude can sometimes be too painful. Just remember, I’m here for you whenever you need a shoulder to cry on,” Yixing said, despite it wasn’t true because he would be leaving soon. Nonetheless, Junmyeon smiled at his words.

“I thought… Recently I’ve been feeling better and the gladdest I’ve been since everything happened. But then I heard the race and I… At first I was angry, then I just broke down.”

While Yixing listened to Junmyeon speaking, he saw how Junmyeon’s eyes started to glisten.

“When it ended and they announced the winner, I couldn’t help thinking… That… That could have been me. That would have been me,” Junmyeon said. “You know, he won with the time I had been working for… It was my time. It could have been my victory.”

Junmyeon exhaled and inhaled deeply.

“I felt so heartbroken, so angry, so disappointed, so wretched altogether that… That tears were the only thing that could come out.”

Despite Junmyeon’s watery eyes, this time no tears were falling from them.

“But although I was aching so much I didn’t wish to do anything like… Like last time. I talked to my therapist this morning, and now that everything is over, now that I had shed a million tears I realized that, I feel that, I don’t want to cry about it anymore. Because it’s too late, it’s in vain. That dream… I can no longer grasp it anymore, it’s out of my reach… And I can’t change the past, neither do I want to stick my mind on what ifs,” Junmyeon said and turned to face Yixing. “I can’t and I don’t want to shut myself in again, not when you have shown me there’s still so much for me, not when I wish to stand on my own and find out if… If there might still be a chance to dream again for someone like me. I might not be as useless as I thought.”

Hearing Junmyeon say those words vanished all the uneasiness Yixing had felt in his heart, and it brought him calmness. A broad, dimpled smile could be seen on his face. Junmyeon had realized his true value and had the will to find out his path in life again. Yixing felt reassured to know that Junmyeon will certainly not seclude himself again when he left, that even in grief and in pain Junmyeon now saw life with a new hope. He got up from his seat and went to hug Junmyeon sideways. “I’m glad for you, Junmyeon. And believe me, there will always be many chances for you. You’ll continue to see what you're capable of and…” he uttered but omitted the rest of his words.

As Yixing hugged him, Junmyeon sensed Yixing’s unclothed skin. He felt a blush paint his cheeks. Nonetheless, he smiled and raised his hands to Yixing’s arms that were holding him. “You’re still not wearing a shirt,” he said.

“Just bear with it a little longer.”

“I’m not complaining.”

Yixing chuckled, that precious laugh Junmyeon liked hearing dearly.