A month later

It’s hard, but you avoid it the best you can and you are handing it as well as you can manage and, somehow, you feel proud of your little achievements; the way you ignore the off-license section on the market – eyelids pressed together in a way that creates creases under your eyes and you have memorized the number of steps you have to take to get over the place, back to be safe, - or how you have found a way to requite back your landlord for all the help he has thrown to you even when you didn’t want it or asked for it – and, deep inside you know you don’t deserve any of his kind attentions, but he is the only one, other than Jinwoo, who has been there for you, so now you clean the hallway of the complex building you live in and you have payed the rent in time this time since moving there and it’s all thanks to Woo Jiho and Kim Jinwoo.

You have messed up more than once during that first month without drinking, but you have also battled and strugled and it's normal to lose sometimes, but you have also witnessed Jinwoo’s thoughtful and wholehearted words towards you and that makes you feel so good, so rewarded that can nearly delete all your mistakes – he smiles and the sun shines even when it’s raining outside, his voice calms the monster that lives inside of you, the one that pushes you back to where you want to stop been; everything is better just because he exists and you are blessed to have him around, it is satisfying to witness how his advises are working out for you andayou stick into them as much  as you can. 

You have found yourself holding a bottle and, more than once, you have taken a sip out of it, toasting to the moon, forgetting that this wasn’t supposed to happen, that this is banned for your own sake and it was all a great mistake, but when you saw the drawings on the wall all the liquid felt from your mouth to the sink and you could breathe in again, Jinwoo's smile was the best reward. 

It was hard and painful, the liquor swelling in your lips and you wanted for nothing but to swallow it all, not let a single tear drop; you wanted to silence your fears, to be happy again – but happiness means Jinwoo and drawing and music now, so alcohol hasn’t a place in your life anymore, you told yourself, convincing your body to gag all you have taken, thrown it up, bile flavoring your throat. 

You have replaced the empty cupboards with healthy food and plain choices to make; simple and easy, all very organized as Jinwoo has suggested and you find it is just perfect, to know all the steps you have to do every day.

Life is meeker now but it’s still complicated whenever you have to deal with your mistakes, with the errors that weigh your shoulders and that stain your soul and mind every day, making it rain: you never wanted to be in this position. Once you were young and free and responsible. Now it’s just a bunch of regrets that make you afraid, scared to face another morning; your life frightens you and that was one of the reasons why you started your vice, turning it into a necessity, ruining the remaining bits you have of the person with dreams and hopes, turning him into an empty sell of burdens, of nothingness. But now you are fighting against all the phantoms and the ghost just to be the person you stopped being once that accident you committed happened, that moment when you started loathing you so much to the point that you wanted to destroy yourself with your bare hands, to run out of blood and die on an lonely road with an overdose  – but you couldn’t and, in the end, it all turned worse, becoming a problem for others that are trying to help you out. You should have ended it for real that day instead to drawn someone else into your self-destructive behavior. 

Jinwoo is by your side the first time you venture inside a bar after quitting, a month after starting the rehab. He takes your hands and guides you through the inside you know so well, how many hours have you spent in there? – You try to count in glasses but they pile so high that you lose its track.

The first thing you recall is how crowded the place is but you feel fine because Jinwoo is grabbing you, dragging you to a lonely table in front of a window with views of a night street, lonely and scary, just like you. The lights bath him and his hair looks so black, as if tinted with ink. He wears casual clothes - nothing like his professional attire, no suit or colorless tie but skinny, ripped jeans and a loose shirt with a green cardigan, his eyes shimmering, expectant. 

He pours you a drink. Out of memory you hold the cold glass and lift it right to your mouth. Jinwoo smiles, drinking his in one shoot and you want to imitate him so badly, your fingers press hard around the tumbler. Your arm shakes, elbow on the table and your eyes are fixed on Jinwoo’s smirk, trying to decipher the meaning behind. Your lips curl over the edge, the tip of the beer – the foam painting your upper lip and the bitter taste swils in  your tongue and you feel at ease before gulping down the first bit of liquid down your throat. Jinwoo stares at you as if dazzled. “And you failed” he announces and you break apart, putting down the glass so quickly that it hurts. “It’s ok, though, don’t look so disappointed Minho” he adds but you know he is wrong; you are so weak, so accustomed to indulge yourself that you don’t remember how it is to take care, to be cautious, to read between the lines of an early invitation to have a drink coming from the man you are in love with and that is alsoayour therapist– and he giggles at how confused you are when he explains to you that this is all a test that you have failed. Your head hits the wooden surface and you hide your flustered cheeks between your hands, totally embarrassed.

“Really, it’s alright, don’t worry. We will work on this” he promises and you sigh, defeated. But he looks at you with so many hopes, expecting you to do better next time that you clutch into it, believing what he believes too. "Don't expect it to be that easy, you are only starting to get better" he adds and you nod, accepting it the way it is, admiting that you still need him to go throw it - and, maybe, to stay alive.

He takes another sip while staring at you, defiantly and your fists are out, nails scratching the soft palm and your heart bounce out of tune, agitated. You want this, the drink that is right in front of your eyes, the golden liquid crowned with white, the coldness feeling that will drown your neck, the bitterness after it swirling, the memory of it so vivid that you have to close your eyes to resist but, even then you can sense it staring back at you, appearing in your imagination as a sweet temptation. But Jinwoo snickers and erases the beer that you are seeing under your heavy eyelids, replacing it with a picture of his face – and it’s so lovely, so more inviting that staying quite becomes even harder, to stand there and not reaching for his foamed lips feels impossible. 

It is truly hard to resist the urge to kiss him, to stamp your lips over his and let the flavour of the beer he is drinking swung onto you, close your eyes and the space that separate from him and hold him, swear to him that you will do anything for him, but instead you stare back at your own, forbidden, drink and, in the end, you opt to push it away, sick and despaired and Jinwoo claps at your decision.

“That’s the best you could do” he exclaims, joyfully, taking the glass and drinking it content slowly, obscene, his lips as if trying to seduce you – but you are already, totally, under his influx. Time just stops floating, recreating at this moment; Jinwoo’s tongue poking in between parted, pinkish lips and the air turns heavy, smelling like something new, something wonderful that flinches at you and you let it burry under its effects, swirling delicately and Jinwoo looks delicious.

He keeps tempting you with drinks – and with his lips, playing with your mind and your heart and you are all his – and you find the strength to battle, to stop yourself from drowning into the beer and into him, even if it hurt like hell at least, with him, the voices that flood your head are quite, muttered with Jinwoo’s laugh that fills all your sense.

For the first time in all your life – probably, when was the last time you went out with someone? You can’t remember and it doesn’t sound promising, speaking of starless night on your own, getting wasted in unknown places all by yourself, all lonely and abandoned; dejected, sad, lame – but today you come home totally sober and proud of your own accomplishment that was more Jinwoo’s, but he has told you how good you were, how strong and willing you were to quit drinking and he has promised that you will overdo it; you will be alright – and the prospect, lingering in his beautiful mouth, was more than you could take, tearing a bit and he has pushed the drops back, wiping your eyes with his thumb and his hand was as soft as you thought it would be.

You sleep well tonight, dreaming about him and it’s all wonderful. For once the clouds that cover your days aren’t here, the bothering feeling that nestled inside your chest is less painful, less agonic and your heart pounds without disgust, like a normal one would do, just beating instead of making you feel disturbed, aching and crawling, begging for a way to stop the screams of your broken soul. It’s nice the feeling of been whole even if it’s only temporary and tomorrow all will become the same again; today you let yourself be free of your worries, your torments.

But when morning greets you, sun sneaking under the curtains and brushing your eyes tenderly, your head doesn’t ache and you are still in one piece, not shattered, scattered all over the place like you used to be – you have been repaired by Jinwoo, his hands have glued all the bits of you back into place and, even if there are some holes left that are leaking, you are starting to heal and it’s all thanks to him, to his grace.

Been sober is starting to feel like the way you should always being after a month and it’s easy to resist – you have got rid of the soju you brought home that day you couldn’t skip to buy them, piled inside the trolley as if they were bottle of milk instead of cheep tequila and soju and it’s all clean again: the draws on the wall and your art supplies everywhere. You take them and go outside.

It’s a sweet, slow morning; people walk around you, who sit on the grass, the breeze caressing your hair and it smells like spring. With your pencil hanging on your lips, you contemplate the scenario that develops in front of you; the happiness of the kids, the colourful that splashes all over the hill in bloom, flowers that swim back and forth and that impregnate the air with its fragrance, the laughs and the joy and it’s all beautiful. You slide the pencil over the paper and start drawing it all.

When you come home, much later, you send the picture you have made to Jinwoo.

“This is how my world looks like when I’m sober. You make me see things again. Thank you, hyung” you write and, a few days later, Jinwoo will open the envelope and cry, but you will never find it out.