Cha Sunwoo is a storm. He comes  and goes as he pleases, leaving a stuttering and reeling Junghwan in his wake.

#

They first meet on finals week. The worst week, in Junghwan’s opinion,, to meet someone you’re likely to want to impress. Junghwan is seeking refuge in a rather cozy looking café a few minutes away from school.

(If truth be told, he only ended up in there because his friend and senior Dongwoo has kindly taken him in, and in response to the impending avalanche of work and studying and  exams, Junghwan’s brain had very inconveniently taken  an indefinite leave, which means Junghwan was mostly running on stale cereal and grey mush, and it also explains the lack of orderliness in his notes. Then again, he has never been orderly in his life, that’s Dongwoo’s domain. )

Also, it is raining, and he has forgotten his umbrella. He always has an umbrella with him, but chooses to forget him right when the sun is having PMS and it’s raining really hard.

He’s sitting in one of the tables  near the very back. Normally he would have chosen one near the window, so he can watch people scurry past as he stuffs his face with the biggest muffin Dongwoo can whip up. But not today, as he has made a decision to study, and to do this, he need total and complete isolation from the rest of the world.

 (Meaning that annoyingly cute waiter Chansik, who has a habit of making  ridiculously cute faces that  Junghwan somehow can’t tear his eyes away from, all the while internally debating whether or not to just put a leash on him and take him home and make him his puppy, because Junghwan likes puppies. This in turn earns him subtle and not-so-subtle glares from the skinny redhead who has a not-so-secret crush on said cute waiter. The redhead has dyed his hair black a few days ago, and although this makes him look frailer, the leveled stares he sends Junghwan has not decreased in intensity.)

 And so he gathers all of his willpower, trains his attention on the various notes and books in front, and intends to keep focused that way, armed with a highlighter, a pen, and a cup of sweet hot chocolate with marshmallows bobbing gaily, courtesy of Dongwoo.

“Okay,” he whispers, and braces himself for three to four hours of intense reviewing. But he has barely finished a paragraph on the Neoclassical arts when a gentle tinkling resounds through the café. Junghwan looks up (and blames this entirely on the book for doing a poor job of holding his attention), and sets his eyes on the boy who has just entered. The boy is cute,  with round cheeks and huge eyes and, for some reason, purple-colored hair shot through with what looked like the entire spectrum of the rainbow. Junghwan swallows, accidentally gulping down about half his hot cocoa, stupid marshmallows lodging in his throat before they begin their descent into the caverns of his stomach—which suddenly felt like it was occupied by  a hoard of butterflies.

He flounders around, knocking his stuff onto the floor as he tries to get his lungs to work normally. He looks up again only to find the boy looking back at him, squirrel-teeth poking through plush pink lips in what Junghwan interprets to be a smile. He coughs and picks his stuff—and the remainder of his dignity, which he admits is near nonexistent level now—up. He keeps his gaze straight. He does not want to look at the boy again.

Somewhere to his left, he hears a snigger—an unmistakable Chansik laugh, and Junghwan can tell because that’s exactly how Chansik laughs, like he’s choking on air or something. Junghwan then makes a token effort to redeem himself by being the perfect picture of a diligent student. He pretends the last thirty seconds hadn’t happened and wills the rest of the world (again, Chansik) to play along. Chansik just snorts, and he has half a mind to turn and visually murder the waiter, cute or not, and this was definitely not cute—when a shadow appears by his side. He turns and send his best glare up, the kind that could skin live puppies, expecting Chansik, but sees the rainbow-haired boy instead.

“Um..hi?” says the boy, and Junghwan squeaks out a hello that sound more or less like a rat being stepped on. “Can I sit here?” the boy goes on, and Junghwan’s mouth may or may not be hanging open by this time. He sneaks a quick look around, confirming that he on one of the five people in the café, the other four being Dongwoo with the cupcakes, Chansik, Jinyoung, and of course, this boy. The boy. There are plenty of empty tables.

“I don’t really like eating alone,” the boys said,as if in an effort to speed up Junghwan’s rather slow though processes. Junghwan’s eyebrow furrows, trying to decide if he should say yes or no, when the boy plops opposite him,  saying thank you as though Junghwan had already given him permission.

“I’m Sunwoo, by the way. Cha Sunwoo.”

“Lee Junghwan,” he answers, and when did he start stuttering so bad?

The boys seems at ease, paying more attention to his cupcake and coffee (and Junghwan has yet to figure out the difference, are muffins the same as cupcakes, or an entirely different thing?) than Junghwan, so Junghwan relaxes, finally settling into study mode.

He totally, completely, and absolutely denies that every few minutes his eyes move up of their own accord, choosing to settle its sight over Sunwoo’s features.

Two hours and a half later, when the sun finally comes out  and Junghwan’s remaining brain cells are just about ready to combust, Sunwoo says goodbye. He leaves quickly with barely another word, and Junghwan wonders if he had been a hallucination. Maybe he has been spending too much time with Victorian folks killing each other off in the name of love. He hears Chansik giggle though, and that tells him the whole thing had been real.

#

The next day he is faced with a very stern-looking Dongwoo. He is sitting on the counter as Dongwoo ices a batch of cute little cupcakes.

“He has a reputation around school,” are the first words out if Dongwoo’s mouth. “Don’t hang out with him.”

“I’m not,” Junghwan reasons, and really, he wasn’t. “He sat with me one time. That’s not hanging out.”

“He’s not nice, Junghwan,” Dongwoo goes on. “I’ve heard stories.”

 To which he would’ve responded You don’t make assumptions based on hearsays, Dongwoo. You don’t judge someone based on what other people say about them, I expected better fromyou. Would’ve, because Dongwoo stuffs a cupcake in his mouth before he can say another word.

“Junghwan. Listen to me. Just. Don’t.”

#

Aside from being easily distracted, Lee Junghwan also has trouble following sensible advices from sensible people (like Dongwoo). Oh, he hears them all right, but heeding them is an entirely different matter. So when Sunwoo comes  upto him again a week later,with the late afternoon sun winking through the strands of his multicolored hair, and asking if the seat  opposite Junghwan  has been taken, he just shakes his head. Sunwoo smiles and Junghwan’s heart falters, just a tiny bit. Sunwoo  slides on the seat and Junghwan scoots over a little to the left  so he can’t see Dongwoo staring at him with big bright warning lights behind his glasses. Junghwan doesn’t see him,  but he feels twin holes branding themselves on his back.

“So how are you?” Sunwoo asks and Junghwan takes this as an invitation to talk. he pours out a lifetime’s worth of stories, feeling just a tiny bit delighted when Sunwoo laughs and shares stories of his own instead of threatening to duct-tape him to the nearest pole if he doesn’t stop talking within the next  ten seconds, as Dongwoo is apt to do with a very excitable Junghwan.

Junghwan tries to see the Sunwoo of Dongwoo’s stories, the one with a string of not-so-nice stories trailing behind his name on campus, but fails to do so. He only sees Sunwoo, a boy about his age, with chubby cheeks and a deep voice contrasting with his overall cute appearance. He only sees Sunwoo, with a passion for pranks and jokes that matches his own, and a general outlook in life that is the same as Junghwan’s.

When Sunwoo leaves again, he isn’t as flabbergasted as the first time, although it may have something to do with the new number in his contacts list, and Sunwoo has promised to call and text when he can. He ignores Chansik’s laughter, Jinyoung’s smirk and Dongwoo’s stare.

#

The thing about Sunwoo is that he arrives at the most inopportune of times. He shows up right when Junghwan is supposed to be studying, rapping on his door with three short staccato knocks. He buries himself on Junghwan’s neck, smelling of soju and chicken and Sunwoo, a scent all his own that has been emblazoned in every sheet and pillow Junghwan has.

“Sunwoo—“ Junghwan starts, and then Sunwoo’s lips are on his, warm and wet and sloppy and he forgets his next words. “Sunwoo,” he tries again, but even that dissolves as Sunwoo runs his hands all over him.

The next things are a blur—Sunwoo’s lips on his cheeks, his neck, his hands—Sunwoo’s weight a delicious pressure that makes frissons of desire run up and down his spine—Sunwoo’s teeth on the inside of his thighs, marking him as his. All these are a blur. All these, Sunwoo, Sunwoo, Sunwoo.

His physics book is forgotten. He has a test tomorrow, he should be studying for it since he’sonly about an inch away from failing. He should tell Sunwoo to stop. He should. But all these—everything else, really—is forgotten as Sunwoo presses into him, and Dongwoo’s warnings and his teacher’s disappointed face are the farthest things in his mind.

He wakes up the next day, and Sunwoo is nowhere to be seen. The soreness in his limbs and the faint trail of bruises are the only hints of what had transpired last night. Junghwan showers and heads to school, neglecting his breakfast. He still has his physics exam.

#

The things about Junghwan is that he’s slow. And naïve. And trusting. And all the other things that he used to consider as compliments, but now only seem a point against him, considering Sunwoo. He supposes he should have known all along, considering all the warnings Dongwoo had given him.

Exactly five days, twenty-two hours, thirty-nine minutes and nine seconds since Sunwoo last called. Since Junghwan last saw him.

#

It starts, and sort of ends, with a call.

“Hey, Sunwoo.”

A pause, a lengthy one, like Sunwoo’s trying to place who’s calling him. Then—

“Oh, hey Deul. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Nothing much. Well,  was thinking…Wanna meet up?”

Another pause. “I want to. But I’m kinda busy right now. School stuff.”

“I can help you out. Study date?”

“Nah, I can manage. Hey Deul, I gotta go.”

“Well…yeah. Okay. See you around, I guess?”

“Sure. Bye Deul.”

“Bye Sunwoo.”

Hey Sunwoo?

Beep.

I don’t believe you.

And he really doesn’t because right now he’s watching Sunwoo pocket his phone, rolling his eyes a little and whispering something to the guy he’s with, making him laugh. He watches as Sunwoo back Jeongmin to the wall, recalling how just last week Sunwoo was making fun of him. He watches Sunwoo’s hands raise to caress Jeongmin’s face. He watches Sunwoo’s eyes never leaving the boy he’s with as if there was no one else, as if Junghwan wasn’t there, heart breaking into tiny little pieces. He watches them  as they kiss. He watches until he can’t watch anymore.

And then he walks away.

The first step is agony, but the succeeding ones are easier. And he doesn’t look back, not even once, because even he knows that sometimes, there’s good in goodbye.