blu oltremare

i.

Sanghyuk has always wanted a treehouse. He has dreamed about it for ages- even now he thinks about painting it yellow, just like the big bright yellow ball shining in the sky. He thinks about filling it with warm pillows and tasty snacks and funny comics, maybe with a mattress and blankets too so he could spend summer nights there. His Naruto notebook is overflowing with drawings and notes and drafts, stickers, pictures and a very weird tutorial that he made up because there’s no way a ten-year-old boy could build a treehouse on his own, but the beech near his house is still the same and his father still complains that it would be way too expensive, so he keeps decorating his notebook with poorly drawn projects until he gets bored. Sanghyuk rarely gets bored anyway, and when he does, he just stares at that old tree through his window and sighs.

Sanghyuk has always wanted a treehouse. He thinks about painting it pitch black, dark and deep, with small white dots that look exactly like stars. It should be not too big, not too small, just a place where he could simply isolate himself from his responsibilities- and his parents, his damn science homework, mass on Sundays, tasteless vegetable soup for dinner and boring stuff like that. Hyuk dedicates an entire page of his notebook (and an entire afternoon too) to that particular design, switching from pastels to paint and mixing colors until he’s satisfied with the result.

Sanghyuk thinks about painting it red as well, kinda like a poppy, mostly because it’s his favorite color- red makes him feel alive, happy, full of excitement.

He thinks about painting it turquoise like the sea, lilac like his mother’s favorite necklace, grey like the sky when it’s about to rain, dark brown like chocolate, white like the first snow in December.

“Why don’t you make it blue?” Wonshik asks on a humid afternoon in June, teeth lazily chewing his straw and feet dangling off the bed. Sanghyuk bites his inner cheek, not really sure about his friend’s choice. Blue makes him feel sad. Gloomy, empty. It makes him feel like he’s tiny, useless, trapped. He listens (but not really) to Wonshik as he makes a never ending list of reasons why blue is totally the best option among the others, eyes traveling to the ceiling and mind trying to imagine a blue treehouse. There are so many shades of blue, and yet none of them looks appealing to Sanghyuk.

They end up dropping the conversation for some kind of reason, and to be honest Sanghyuk is grateful for that, since he’s too coward to tell Wonshik that no, he could never paint his beloved treehouse blue. He’d rather talk about his bad grades at school, or the grasshopper that visits him every morning, or the blueberry cake that his mother baked last Saturday.

“My parents and I are going to the movies for my birthday, are you coming with us?” Hyuk asks with a wide grin on his face, fingers carelessly playing with the white band-aid on his scratched knee. Just the mere idea of going to the city makes him shiver with anticipation. The skyscrapers are so tall, so cool, and all those bright lights stick behind his eyelids like glue until he falls asleep in the car.

“I’d love to, seriously, but we’re moving out this weekend.”

Sanghyuk stops playing with his band-aid and stares at Wonshik’s apologetic smile until the tightness in his tiny chest feels less painful. He completely forgot Wonshik’s parents decided to build a wonderful future for their son- new city, new school, new opportunities, new friends. Hyuk actually forgot it on purpose, wanting to bury the ugly feeling of being left behind deep down for as long as he could. He kinda understands the whole situation though, he surely doesn’t blame his friend, I mean, no one would refuse an opportunity to live in the city. The big, living, breathing city. The countryside doesn’t offer anything to someone with such big dreams like Wonshik.

“My parents sold our house to another family, you know, and I’ve met their son. He’s cool I guess” Wonshik mentions with a tiny smile, patting Sanghyuk’s back softly.

“Maybe he’s a fanatic of treehouses like you, who knows?”

Sanghyuk ends up laughing, his big nose occupying half of his face and hands ready to smack his friend with a random pillow. Wonshik laughs as well, hitting Hyuk back until they are breathless on the bed. Hyuk will miss this, he will miss this so damn much, he will miss sharing stories and laughing and staying up late with his only friend, he will miss running down the hill before sunset comes, he will miss Wonshik like crazy.

“Build that treehouse” Wonshik’s serious tone makes Sanghyuk turn his head towards him, ears listening and fingers holding the hem of his ugly brown t-shirt with nervousness.

“I expect a full tour when I come back, understood weirdo?”

Sanghyuk only nods, already feeling the knot in his throat getting bigger and bigger with every second. He doesn’t tell him that the idea of building it doesn’t appeal to him anymore because he already knows that Wonshik will never come back, so instead he simply offers his pinky and fights back the tears when Wonshik wraps his own around it.

Wonshik leaves on Friday morning after the sunrise, tilted snapback on his head and mp3 player already in his hands. He hugs Hyuk quickly before getting in the car, fingers brushing his eyelids every now and then so the tears don’t stain his cheeks- he hopes Sanghyuk doesn’t notice them (he does) and Sanghyuk hopes Wonshik will come back (he won’t).

The remaining days of June feel like a blur. Sanghyuk spends hours, if not entire afternoons, sitting on the windowsill with his hands pressed against the glass, eyes staring at that white van that keeps delivering boxes in front of his best friend’s old house. He sees furnitures getting replaced with new ones, people painting the walls and cutting grass, he sees Wonshik’s old sofa disappear inside another van and that’s when he feels his eyes wet again, so he closes the curtains and goes to sleep.

The new family officially moves in at the end of the month, when the air gets more humid and the trees gets greener, and Sanghyuk has to admit that those people seem quite rich. They have a pool, a porch, statues all around the backyard- he could go on forever, honestly. Hyuk sees a man and a woman talk near the doorstep, so he guesses those are the parents, and then a boy that looks slightly older than himself. Wonshik was right, they do have a son, but Sanghyuk doesn’t feel ready yet to meet him (will he ever be ready to meet him?) also because he doesn’t seem very friendly from afar. The grasshopper that lives in his room seems way friendlier, and that says a lot.

Sanghyuk’s opinion of his new little neighbour doesn’t change even after a week spent spying on him. He just sits all day on the carpet made of dewy grass and draws, and draws, and draws, and draws until the sun is about to set. He doesn’t do anything else- he doesn’t swim, he doesn’t play soccer, he doesn’t even wander around the village. The boy simply opens his silly case and takes out his silly crayons and Hyuk secretly wonders what’s so special about not moving for an eternity. Then he remembers that he does the same when it comes to planning his treehouse, so maybe this kid has a talent for drawing stuff- or he just really doesn’t have anything else better to do, which might be true since the countryside isn’t really the most fun place to live in.

They sometimes meet before mass starts, on hot Sunday mornings when the sun is already up in the sky and the lady that usually sells candy sells ice cream instead. Sanghyuk sits with the other kids, thin t-shirt stuck on his skin like glue and nails scraping the wood of the bench in front of his own. He watches as his neighbour sits on a bench as well, an empty one, with little fists rubbing his sleepy eyes and feet barely touching the ground. Hyuk would like to think that his friends like the new kid -they have always been so nice to Hyuk- but they don’t, oh they really don’t, and the mean comments he hears leave a bitter taste on his tongue that lasts even after he’s on his way back home. He later decides that he doesn’t want to sit next to them anymore.

“Why don’t you give Hongbin a chance? You two might become friends” Sanghyuk’s mother suggests on a Friday evening while chopping some carrots. Hyuk stares at his vegetable soup until it becomes cold, and when his father asks him why he’s not feeling hungry, he can’t decide if it’s because of the ice-cream he ate earlier or because he keeps thinking that Hongbin owns a name as pretty as he looks.

The next Sunday almost feels the same, except that Sanghyuk isn’t sitting with the other kids- he’s sitting on a half-empty bench right at the end of the church, knees pressed against his chest and eyes fixed on the polished shoes belonging to the boy sitting next to him. Hongbin doesn’t talk much but his slightly wavy hair smells like cherries and the dimples on his cheeks make Sanghyuk’s stomach feel weird, so maybe they could really become friends after all.

“Thanks for sitting next to me” the boy mutters to Sanghyuk when mass is over, and Sanghyuk, maybe because of witchcraft, can’t wait for the next Sunday to come already (he doesn’t want to admit that his cheeks felt redder than usual after that, but they did).

Hongbin, Hyuk eventually finds out after spending a few Sundays together, is quite friendly. He’s two years older than him but somehow he’s shorter, and that makes Sanghyuk laugh until the priest scolds both of them. They don’t chat during mass mostly because Hongbin wants to finish the drawing he started last week, and Hyuk has never been happier to look at someone literally drawing little ugly red stars on an ugly green sky.

“It’s so pretty” Sanghyuk whispers when Hongbin glues some gold glitter on a few clouds, and the way Hongbin’s eyes light up haunts him for the rest of the day (in a good way, that is).

Their friendship starts quietly and slowly, but it starts anyway. It begins with them waving at each other through their windows in the morning, breaths fogging the glass and shy smiles on their lips. It begins with them sitting on the same old hill until the sun sets, drawings scattered everywhere and knees bleeding from falling over way too many times. It begins with Sanghyuk sharing his snacks with Hongbin right before going to bed, their backs pressed against Hongbin’s roof and soft wind dancing through their hair. It begins with Hongbin sharing his precious crayons, it begins with Sanghyuk helping him climb a tree that really doesn’t seem stable, it begins with all of this and they don’t really realize it until summer ends.

Their friendship starts quietly and slowly, but it starts anyway. It begins on a windy night in August, when both of them are looking at the stars without their parents knowing- heartbeats loud and darkness dancing between those centimetres that separates them from each other.

“I wanna build a treehouse one day” Sanghyuk admits without even thinking, his eyes patiently waiting for a falling star and a piece of walnut from the chocolate bar he ate earlier still stuck between his teeth. He can’t see much but he can imagine Hongbin nodding, and he surely can imagine his smile as well, thought that paints his cheek dark pink- he’s not even that mad about it.

“Can I see it when it’s done? We could make it blue, it’s my favorite color!”

When Hongbin’s voice reaches Sanghyuk’s ears, it’s just a soft whisper. The younger finds that question pretty dumb, they’re friends and friends do everything together, so he reassures Hongbin that yes, they should totally hang out there. He doesn’t tell him that blue is absolutely out of question, though. Hongbin’s laugh sounds like one of those bells that ring in heaven, and even though Hyuk has no idea of what it would sound like, he decides that it should sound like that.

Sanghyuk still doesn’t forget Wonshik- he could never, ever, replace him with someone else, but as time flies by, Hongbin’s company feels so right and so nice that he literally finds himself thinking about the older twenty-four seven. They see each other everyday, they eat together- play together, watch movies together, draw together, grow up together. Their friendship is sincere, and loyal, and perfect, and no one could ever break them apart.

Sanghyuk is barely twelve when his dad surrenders and starts building that damn treehouse. He buys wood and nails and pieces of plastic and Hyuk feels a river wetting both of his chubby cheeks, but Hongbin is right next to him and he holds him tight, telling him how awesome it’s gonna be when it’s done.

The treehouse is pretty indeed, with that tiny hole in the roof that allows people to stargaze and a small television that Hyuk’s dad found near the trashcan. Hongbin brings stickers and pillows and blankets as little gifts, and Sanghyuk makes sure every little detail is perfect- the treehouse still needs a lot of work, especially outside since they can’t decide what paint would suit it best.

Hyuk presses his notebook to his chest with so much strength that his knuckles turn a light shade of white, and when the shop owner asks him what color he wants to buy, his mouth gets as dry as the desert. He planned so many designs, drew so many pictures, filled page after page after page after page and now his mind is completely blank. Or maybe not.

He decides eventually, and when Hongbin finds himself being dragged by Sanghyuk to their brand new treehouse, the first thing he notices is the ugly blue stain that his friend’s hand left on his wrist. Then he lifts his eyes up and he sees it, bluer than the deepest of the seas, bluer than the night sky, bluer than all of the blue crayons he owns.

Sanghyuk decides that giving up all his past designs is worth it when Hongbin smiles like he has just seen the sun for the first time after having spent an eternity under the rain. It’s worth it, it’s so damn worth it and when Hongbin holds his hand, Hyuk thinks that blue might be his new favorite color, too.

ii.

The first morning Hongbin leaves for high school, Sanghyuk can’t help but feel that ugly emotion he felt when Wonshik moved away. He waits for Hongbin to come back in the afternoon, but the truth is that they are not kids anymore, and soon their video games turn into history essays, their Friday nights turn into study sessions, and it’s no surprise when Hongbin kinda stops visiting the treehouse.

Sanghyuk watches him study through his window- he sees his curly hair covering half of his face, piles of books sitting on his desk, his uniform all ironed and perfect hanging from his closet, and he feels alone all over again.

When they do find some time to hang out, Hyuk listens as the older talks about his classes and his new friends. It turns out that Hongbin is very much likable, maybe thanks to his pretty face or perhaps because of his natural charm, and Sanghyuk swallows his sadness away with another glass of orange juice. He doesn’t even like orange juice.

Hongbin talks about how much he loves science, he mentions the fact that he really wants to be a painter when he grows up, he tells Hyuk about another student he really admires, and in the meantime Sanghyuk wonders if his friend can actually hear his heart slowly breaking.

“You should meet Hyoshin, he’s such a cool guy, he’s so smart! I wish I was his friend” Hongbin sighs with his chin resting on his hand, and that’s when Sanghyuk excuses himself because it’s late and he has homework to do.

“But it’s Friday?”

Sanghyuk’s answer is the sound of the bedroom door closing, and it’s funny how the pumping muscle in his chest felt basically the same.

On Sunday they meet again before mass starts, and for a second it feels like they are kids again, with Hongbin too busy drawing stars and Sanghyuk too busy trying not to jump from happiness because Hongbin is there, he’s there for him, he’s got him all for himself-

And then he loses him again right after the priest ends his speech.

Youth hurts, whether if you want it or not, and those two years that separate them from each other sometimes feel like an eternity, especially when Sanghyuk is stuck in middle school and Hongbin looks like he has figured half of his life out already.

Spring comes quickly, greeting the village with its colourful flowers and warm sunlight. The river flows fast, trees get taller, birds slowly starts filling the air with their sweet songs and Hongbin’s beauty blooms like the prettiest rose in the entire garden. Sanghyuk feels lucky enough to be alive at the same time as him, watching day by day as his jaw gets sharper and his shoulders get broader, and he wonders how much time he has left before someone steals him away.

They do end up attending the same high school, and they do end up getting closer all over again, but this time it feels different. Sanghyuk doesn’t expect Hongbin to sit next to him during lunch break, he doesn’t expect him to study next to him in the