FINAL

Empty beds.

WINGS AND FINS

“Hyukjae!” Donghae panted as he ran up the hill; one of the many disadvantages of having short legs was that it made you slow.

He reached the top and stood, panting, with his hands on his knees. The other boy laughed, filling the air with his childish cackle.

“You look like an old man! What’s wrong with you?” Donghae frowned at the remark, and pushed Hyukjae in the small of the back.

“Shut up! You’re so mean!” Hyukjae stuck his tongue out at Donghae.

“Who cares? You’re here now aren’t you?” The two boys argued as they made their way along the path to Donghae’s house.

Eunhyuk and Donghae had always been together, joined at the hip since birth. So it wasn’t really a surprise to anyone when the pair announced that they were in love, and that they intended to be married.

Marriage had been wonderful. They existed exactly as they had before; the same kisses, the same smiles and care, but this time with the promise that neither would leave the other, ever. Although they had really known that too before.

There were a lot of promises in their relationship.

‘I’ll never leave you.’

‘I’ll love you forever.’

Most of these they kept. Every one they could.

They were envied by all any for their perfect relationship.

Were.

Death comes to the most undeserving people.

‘Only the good die young.’

Poor words of consolation to the one who has lost their everything.

Donghae didn’t tell anyone how it happened. He merely appeared, drenched and sobbing, at the door of Jungsu’s apartment, who immediately pulled the distraught man inside, shoved him into the bedroom and made him change his clothes.

For hours, the only words they could get out of him were ‘you promised me…’

Black. Everywhere. Covering his surroundings in miserable grief. This was all Donghae could think as he sat in the first row inside the church, waiting to be told something he already knew, and didn't want to hear in the slightest.

The minister was standing in front of the windows, looking decidedly mournful as the procession moved further down the church, the black box they were holding coming to rest gently at the front. Donghae couldn’t look. He couldn't breathe, couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. He chuckled in spite of himself.

Look what you’ve made me into, Hyukjae…

The sun was setting. Donghae was sitting, cross-legged, in the middle of the living room in his shared apartment.

Around him were piles and piles of things. Photos, books, clothes, even cooking implements were part of his fort.

“Donghae...” He knew without turning around what kind of expression Jungsu would have. It was the same expression he always had when he though Donghae was doing something stupid, even if Donghae didn’t agree.

This time he did.

He knew it was stupid to do this. To look at everything they were together, everything that they would have been. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to.

He pulled out a photo of them as children, at his home in Mokpo. Donghae smiled at the photo; it was such a long time ago, just over 20 years in fact. They had both been only 7 years old when they met. There was a certain game they would always play, and even if it annoyed Donghae at the time… He smiled. Well, it was definitely worth the memories now.

Hyukjae was the angel. That's how it was. Hyukjae would be an angel, and Donghae would be the sea serpent. Good and evil. Light and dark. Heaven and hell. Wings and Fins.

Donghae was busy. Very busy. He could hear Siwon moving around somewhere in the apartment on his quest for boxes, but that didn’t concern him. He was stacking everything he could find relating to Hyukjae onto their bed.

It was arduous work. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if he mightn’t need another bed, or at least a larger one. It was quite intimidating, how little of his life wasn’t full of Hyukjae.

Tears are painful. Even when they are shed for joy, they leave eyes red and puffy, painfully swollen. Donghae could barely see through his at that point; he felt like he had cried enough tears for the rest of everyone else’s lives, not to mention his own.

They made his throat hurt, and his chest ache. As if he wasn’t in enough pain to begin with.

To lose someone you love more than life… it’s impossible to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced it.

‘My heart is being torn apart.’

‘I’m cold and empty inside.’

‘I wish I was dead.’

These cliché phrases are said and repeated by those who search to explain their tears. It is in this manner that people describe the pain, quantify it, liken it to other things. Donghae, though not saying any were wrong, knew that no words were equal to the emotions themselves. Having his heart torn apart doesn't sound so bad next to losing Hyukjae. Feeling cold, empty… even feeling suicidal was as easy as blinking next to living without Hyukjae.

He bloody well knew there wasn’t any point anymore.

“Hae? I think this is the last of his stuff!” Donghae stirred. He hadn’t even noticed he had gone to sleep, and as he rolled over to yell at Siwon, he realised he was under the bed. Frowning, he crawled out, coughing as he dislodged years worth of dust. He and Hyukjae had been far from diligent cleaners. Shouting for Siwon to be quiet, and that his head hurt, Donghae pulled himself up and lumbered out of the room, knocking the door open violently.

The hallway seemed to swim before Donghae’s eyes. He blinked furiously, not realising he had fallen over until he was groaning in pain from hitting his face down onto the floorboards. He heard Siwon rush over to him, felt him roll him over onto his back and pick him up.

Felt. Donghae grimaced, laughing at the idea. That part was definitely true. Feeling was out of the question. He hadn’t even noticed when he hadn’t eaten for 3 days until Jungsu had actually asked him about it.

Donghae decided grief was the wrong word. Didn’t grief mean sobbing and yelling and crying till you threw up? For the certainly wasn’t what he was doing. The tears yes, but silently, without him noticing.

At first he had sobbed. God knows how many hours he had spent, locked in their room, soiling the sheets with his tears. But that was before.

“Donghae?” He looked up to see Jungsu peering at him from the other side of the room. He pointed at his own face. Donghae furrowed his brow. What was he trying to say this time?

“You…” Donghae raised an eyebrow. Jungsu sighed, and leant over to wipe Donghae’s face.

“You were crying.” He said softly. The younger man’s hand immediately sprang to his eyes and found that his face was covered in tears.

“It’s ok Donghae.” Jungsu moved around to the other side of the table to embrace the now sobbing man.

“It’s ok.”

Donghae had always found it difficult to get to sleep. As a child, he would toss and turn for hours before giving up and crawling into Hyukjae’s bed.

Although clearly that wasn’t an option now…

Donghae lay on his back, head on his pillow as he stared at the plaster ceiling. It was an older building, and the ceilings had had patterns pressed into the plaster when they were first being made. Hyukjae had thought them rather fussy and unnecessary, but Donghae had always liked them. He felt they looked like mazes, something he could trace with his eyes until he became too exhausted to even think of staying awake.

Tonight was different. He could focus his eyes on them properly. He rolled over, huffing. He knew he had terrible eye bags; Jungsu had been lecturing him about them only that evening. Something felt different, wrong almost. He had goose bumps; the hair on the back of his neck was raised. What was-

He could hear Him. Donghae sat up in his bed. He didn’t know what time it was, there was no clock. He had no idea how long he had been lying there; he had no idea of how time passed around him these days. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, moonlight falling across his shoulders as he crept out of the room, following the noises.

His heart rate increased; he rushed to the door and flung it open. He couldn’t see Him, but he still knew He was there. That familiar smell, the way his body felt when Hyukjae looked at him…

He was definitely there. Donghae could feel Him.

Donghae cautiously opened the door to the corridor, his chest tight. He felt a tiny flicker of disappointment when he didn’t see Hyukjae in front of their mirror, doing his hair like Donghae has seen him do so many times before. He approached the mirror silently, staring at the dusty glass soberly. He felt Hyukjae sigh, and turned, bounding out the door in pursuit of his elusive lover.

Footsteps. Hyukjae’s footsteps. He rounded the corner, opening their front door hastily, feeling Hyukjae’s impatience.

‘I’m coming, hold on…’

Donghae finally opened the infernal lock, and stepped out into the landing of their fourth floor apartment. He stood for a moment, listening, then hurried right. He could hear Hyukjae’s foot tapping impatiently. Donghae grinned at the memories of how many times Hyukjae had done that as he waited for Donghae, the pair of them already late for whatever appointment it had been.

The stairs had never felt this long before. Donghae huffed and puffed up the stairs; Hyukjae seemed to have no problems rushing ahead.

He finally made it; he was at the rooftop, where He was waiting for him. Donghae lurked by the doorway, unsure. Doubt was coursing through him; people can’t come back, they can’t they can’t they can’t they can’t the-

He was sitting with his back against the wall, staring at the door he had come through. The stars rested in their sky above him, oblivious and uncaring. His eyes were swollen; he had been crying, yet again.

How could Hyukjae do this? How could he come here and like that? After dragging Donghae from his bed, why had he left?

Donghae’s hands curled into fists; he was angry with him. Angry with him for leaving, for daring to desert him, to leave him alone in this horrific world.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Donghae’s ears pricked up. He sat frozen, clenching and un-clenching his fists in anxiety. He got up slowly, like you would to not scare a wild animal, not daring to turn his head.

He rotated slowly on the spot, his heart beating in excess. His eyes widened, his breathing stoped.

He was there….

Hyukjae. He was there, sitting on the wall of the opposite building, legs crossed and hands folded and resting on his knee. Waiting for him. Donghae’s breath caught in his throat, tears pricking his eyes. Hyukjae glowed, his perfection seeping into the air around him. The corners of his mouth lifted, Hyukjae’s face breaking into a smile. Donghae felt like he wanted to die. That smile... The number of times he had seen it… Hyukkie blinked at him, his single lidded eyes playful. He was so close… Donghae could see the colour in his cheeks, the goose bumps on his pale skin. His Hyukkie couldn’t be dead; he was right there! Living and breathing, defying the world that had pronounced him dead.

Donghae wobbled as he climbed onto the low wall around the roof of his apartment complex. A few steps and he would be right next to Hyukjae, be able to touch him again. This small space was no challenge. He glanced up at Hyukjae.

“Don’t laugh, ok?” Hyukjae blinked at him, grinning still, nodding slightly.

Donghae hurriedly stepped out to him.

He frowned.

What is this feeling?

Am I… flying?

hallucination |həˌluːsɪˈneɪʃ(ə)n|

noun

an experience involving the apparent perception of something not present: he continued to suffer from horrific hallucinations.

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Hello Reader(s)

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Thank you for reading this, I hope you enjoyed it :3

Please don't kill me for the ending through....

This is for Wings&Fins, I advise you to go and check out some of the other entrats, they are really well done :)

Comments would be delightful

ALSO tell me if you notice any grammar/spelling errors

Goodbye