Chapter 7

There was that heavy pounding in his chest as he hung his apron in his locker, there was that giddy feeling, a certain feel of excitement, longing. Hands resting along the sides of the porcelain sink, his reflection stared back at him as drops of water slid down his cheek. Only then did he realize that, that erratic pounding was his heart.

Not far off another heart was beating at the same pace as the sandwich maker. The sandwich stayed wrapped on his lap as he sat on a wooden bench by the nearby park. Time seemed to pass by so slow thanks to his excitement that he was going to spend time with Doojoon again; he was so excited that he ended up checking the time on his phone every five minutes, and it wasn’t intentional at all. All Yoseob could hear was his mind saying one thing ‘Doojoon, Doojoon, Doojoon’ and oddly, surprisingly (almost fittingly) his heart screamed the same thing, mimicking the very sound of a heartbeat.

‘Doojoon. Doojoon. Doojoon.’

“Nothing will go wrong right? Nothing…” he whispered under his breath as he walked out of the shop, a blue jacket over a plain black shirt creased and moved as he took each step that brought him closer to the boy. He was nervous somewhat, as Yoseob was the only connection he had to his past, a constant reminder so to speak, but also a constant in his life. The only person who took care of him besides the situation that he had put the kid through, who depended on him; Yoseob was different and that person left a mark permanently deep in Doojoon’s heart.

“So,” he sat down beside the other, “Is this seat taken?” he chuckles softly, eyes trained on the other’s as the big, deep brown eyes met his as Yoseob lifted his head to look at the other; a smile already present on his face. “N-No. It’s not. For the first time Doojoon returned the smile on the boy’s lips.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” the sandwich guy started. He wasn’t really sure what to say, it was weird for him to meet up with someone he took hostage and not to mention, no one was ever this happy to see him. “How are you? You’re not a blondie anymore. But that color suits you, too.” Yoseob giggled at the compliment, blushing even.

“Yeah. Years. Though you don’t look very different but you are different, in a good way. I’m okay. Studying still. I don’t carry my blanket around with me anymore.” Eyes trained on his lap as he fiddled with his fingers, he didn’t even know why his cheeks were heating up at the mere sound of Doojoon’s voice. “But, I still keep it with me in my room,” he confessed, laughing as his cheeks turned a darker shade of red. Doojoon’s laugh joined his at the mention of Yoseob’s blanket; a sweet duet, Yoseob loved the sound of it. “I remember that. How could I forget? I managed to get out alive that night,” he suddenly said, leaning back on the bench, watching cars, people and their dogs pass by. “Changed my name, changed my life for good. It was a bit tough but I figured….”

He took a deep breath before turning to look at Yoseob, “…only when I’ve lived a clean, innocent life will I ever permit myself to see you again.” The former hostage looked up, lips parted slightly at the words of the other. His bright eyes looking over at his captors eyes, searching and all he found was sincerity, truth, and vulnerability. He changed, for the better, and Yoseob was more than happy to hear that the other planned on seeing him again.

“I’ve been trying to find you ever since that night. I was so worried about you, I was afraid you’d have died. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, they all thought it was trauma from what happened, or the shock of it all but it was just that feeling of being so worried about someone but you had no means of ever finding out they were okay.” Words just kept coming out of Yoseob’s mouth, finally having that person he’d been finding for so long sit right in front of him. He reached out both hands to cup his cheeks, as if feeling if he was real or something, the pads of his thumb brushing gently over the charming guy’s cheek bones. Doojoon didn’t pull away, he smiled, moving both his hands to hold onto the other’s hands, pulling them away from his face but not letting go of it.

“I’m okay. I’m here now. Isn’t that, all that matters?”