Chapter III: Nostalgia

2016.11.25 Friday Seoul, South Korea

Oh Sehun had always dreamed to be a dancer – performing in front of a crowd, hearing the applause of his audience, swinging his arms and legs along with the music as it gracefully flowed through his veins, sinking through every fiber of his being. He had always wanted to learn ballet and jazz, he had seen Jongin do it and it was one of the most beautiful panorama he had seen in his entire career – which didn’t actually last very long. He wanted to learn how do a grand pirouette, a ballotté, and dance steps he could never even pronounce correctly. He had tried those before, yet not as perfect as he would want it to be. Jongin said he had an amazing footwork and it would only take some practice. Sehun thought it was ironic. He had to quit school a month after Jongin invited him to take ballet classes for the next semester.

Sehun’s family was all about business, vehicle engineering to be exact. Dancing was never part of the plan. His father had always had this vision of him, and his elder brother, leading Oh Engineering. His brother took automobile engineering and moved to the USA to further his studies. Sehun was forced to at least take something he could use in the business. His father somehow decided to start an architecture company when Sehun was about fifteen. He tried bringing up dancing once, in a family dinner hundred year old chandelier imported all the way from England, his father suddenly started slicing his medium rare fillet mignon with a little more force than he actually needed, his mother almost choked on her cherry tomato and his elder brother just grinned.

“Sehun-ah, you will take architecture.”

It was neither a suggestion nor a command. It was a statement. And in the Oh household, his father’s statements are the law.

Sehun just sighed. It was a shame that it took him a few years and a heartbreak before he could finally break out of his father’s grip. He was disowned yet he never really cared. Maybe he should really thank Luhan. The doe-eyed Chinese really helped him find his own person, only to lose it after losing something he thought would always be there. Something, someone he really never paid attention to, yet he couldn’t live without.

“Sehun-ah.” A soft hand was placed on his shoulder as he tried to shove his favorite black shirt in his already full luggage. “Are you really sure about this? Do you want us to go with you?”

He just nodded. “Yes, hyung I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I mean .. I don’t want you to travel that far .. alone .. I-“

“Soo.” Jongin called out the fussy Kyungsoo as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and shook his head. “I believe Sehun knows what he’s doing.”

“But-“

“He’ll be okay Kyungsoo-ah.” Joonmyun, who was silently sitting on the hardwood floor, picking on the grey shag rug in the middle of the room, sighing continuously. “He needs to do this by himself. He’ll be okay.”

Thank you.  Sehun mouthed, looking at the elder’s worried eyes. He knew Joonmyun was also apprehensive yet he understood Sehun’s decision better than everybody else did. Joonmyun was the only person that actually treated him like an adult. Everybody started babying him after an incident that happened a year and a few months back that he would really rather not talk about at all.

The elder just smiled at him. Kyungsoo finally stopped fussing and just helped him pack, making sure that he got everything he needed, especially in his medicine bag. Jongin just kept his focus, watching every single show on TV for at least five seconds. Baekhyun and Jongdae were there yet both were unusually very quiet, munching on the month old chips they found in the pantry. Minseok was also there, making him more uncomfortable than he already was. Minseok and he were never actually close. His relationship with the elder was more of a common friend situation – something he really couldn’t explain. Sehun also thought it was ridiculous how it took them a few years before they could actually be complete again, well partly. They will never be complete again and Sehun would blatantly blame himself.

“Hyung, I should go. I don’t want to be late for my flight.”

Goodbyes were exchanged as his Hyungs hauled his luggage out of his apartment building to the taxi that had been waiting for him. Sehun refused to let anybody send him off to the airport, yet was forced to at least let one of them – he chose Jongdae just so he wouldn’t be bored on their way – to help him carry his luggage. He thought it was kind of annoying how they wouldn’t even let him carry anything over five pounds, it was ridiculous. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t die if he carried a luggage filled with a week’s worth of clothes and some knick knacks that Kyungsoo forced him to bring.

“Dont forget to take your medicines. Call me whenever you can okay? Or text me. I don’t really care, just contact me in any way you prefer.” He really wasn’t sure why but Kyungsoo was almost bawling his eyes out as the elder hugged him before he got in the car. He even had to roll down the window when the elder knocked and handed him a small notepad – containing the schedules of when and how to take his medications in CEST. “Take Rilutek at 8am after breakfast, and take one more at 8pm after dinner. AND NO CAFFEINE AND ALCOHOL. NO BUBBLE TEA. Take one valium before you go to bed and flexeril when you start feeling spasms.” Sehun stopped. The list was too long and he could almost hear Kyungsoo’s voice nagging at him all the way from their apartment complex.

The fact that Jongdae was looking at him with sad eyes wasn’t really helping him either. The fact that his friends were treating him like he was some sort of imbecile wasn’t helping at all. He understood his friends perfectly anyways; he just didn’t like the feeling of being so helpless. He couldn’t even lift a stack of paper once. One time he fell on his face and didn’t even have a chance to catch himself. It was as if the world was denying him his own freedom. It was as if slowly, the world was robbing him of his everything. He was barely even in his mid twenties and he already felt like he was holding onto a very thin string he once called life.

His flight number was called, Jongdae finally left without saying a word. Jongdae was an but Jongdae also wasn’t stupid. Jongdae understood. Sehun sent a message to Jongdae before the elder completely disappeared in the crowd.

“Thank you.”

Jongdae just waved at him, didn’t even bother to turn around.

He pulled out a small device, he called an ipod, from his pocket. A hyped beat started playing as he watched how the clouds danced along with the wind in the beautiful blue sky as if they were trying to match the music he was listening to. It was too ironic. It almost made him want to cry. He used to dance along those beats. He used to gracefully move his arms and legs along with the tune.

He checked the watch that was wrapped around his left wrist. The scar had been long gone yet the watch had become a habit. He still had about five hours before he had to take the next dose of his pills. It would take him about eleven hours to reach his destination. He should sleep.

2016.11.26 Sunday Paris, France

A soft knock was heard from Chanyeol’s door, making his eyebrow raise. It was four o’clock in the afternoon and he really didn’t expect anybody to knock on his door at that time of day, neither at any other time actually. Paris was a very weird place. It was already hard for Chanyeol to find friends in Korea, and it was even harder in a foreign country. Plus the fact that his schedule was always full – he had to juggle his time between classes, his internship, his part time job at an Asian store in the middle of nowhere, and babysitting his neighbor’s kids – twins named Kardy and Cheru, and it was weird enough that the elder one fell head over heels in love with Jongin after he had to do a skype call with Kyungsoo while babysitting the kids. He was actually thankful that his scholarship covered everything he needed for school and his lodging, yet he still needed money to keep himself from starving and freezing his off on winters. It was quite a challenge yet Chanyeol preferred burning his time with work and school than slack off and think about things he shouldn’t even bother himself with. That Sunday though, was one of his very rare day offs.

He was forced to haul himself from the couch he was lazily laying at, reading a book he randomly picked up at his university’s library – Shot by Shot was the title, a book with an intense blue cover. He was actually a little pissed at his visitor because he was too engrossed with the book and didn’t want to be disturbed. He was even thinking about pretending not be home if he wasn’t just such a nice person.

“Qui est-ce?” He yelled, a little too loudly than he would’ve expected. His French was surprisingly improving yet he just couldn’t seem to cover up his accent. “Qui est-ce?” He repeated, just because he liked hearing his own voice speaking a language that sounded so fancy. He thought French sounded like poetry complimented with incredibly elegant syllables. He slowly turned the doorknob, without even checking the peephole and was greeted by the cold autumn wind. There wasn’t anybody there, at least that he could see. Chanyeol started freaking out, maybe it was one of those spirits he once heard the other tenants of talked about before. The apartment building was pretty old and he really wouldn’t be surprised if there were any ghosts lurking around the area.

“Qui est-ce?”

 He asked once more and he almost jumped over the railings across his door when he felt a hand grab his left leg. “Holy !” He exclaimed as he slowly averted his eyes to the hand that was tugging on his black and white plaid pajamas. His world suddenly stopped spinning, his racing heart stopped beating, he would really rather see a ghost.

“Hyung. Can I have some water?” A scrawny, pale boy was crouching right beside his door. A black snapback was covering his hair and half of his face. His overly thick black winter coat was neatly folded on a gray luggage sitting right beside the boy. “And please don’t tell Kyungsoo-hyung you saw me like this. He would freak out.”

The boy weakly smiled at him, eyes filled with excitement and enthusiasm. The smile looked very eerie. His crescent eyes turned into slits like they usually would yet the way his lips curved looked very weak and frail. His breathing was a little too deep and a little too slow than usual.

“Sehun-ah.” He mumbled as he bent his knees and helped the younger up. The boy felt almost weightless. He was too thin and too gaunt. His skin was incredibly pale and his eyes were almost bloodshot. “Are you okay?”

The boy just nodded. “I just need some water, I forgot to take my pi-“ The younger paused. “My vitamins and probably just need some rest too.” Sehun grinned. “You know jetlag.”

Chanyeol just stared at the boy. He really wasn’t sure what to say or what to feel but he knew that the state the younger was in was definitely not jetlag. Chanyeol had once been naïve and dumb but not anymore. He had grown up and he wasn’t that gullible anymore. He would ask questions, but not yet. Sehun looked a lot like he was going to pass out any second. He dragged the younger to the couch he was occupying, pushing aside the book he was reading and grabbed the blanket that was loosely lying on the floor. He ran to his small kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

“Here.” He muttered and handed the bottle to the younger.

“Thank you.” Sehun sounded almost like he had some trouble speaking. It definitely wasn’t his lisp. Chanyeol was pretty sure Sehun got rid of it a long time ago. “And can you grab the red pouch hanging on my backpack for me please?” Chanyeol did what he was told and his eyes almost jumped out of its socket when Sehun started fishing amber bottles of medications from the said pouch.

Riluzole

Cyclobenzaprine

Carisoprodol

Medicines he had never heard of before.  Medicines he had never seen the younger take before. The last time he checked, Oh Sehun was a very healthy boy. The only reason the younger would go to the pharmacy was to get his monthly prescription of Epipen for his tree nuts allergy, sometimes also for Chanyeol’s cat fur allergy. But then again, the last time he checked was about three years ago. Chanyeol refused to hear any information that had anything to do with the Oh Sehun. Although he couldn’t really avoid the fact that there would always be a Baekhyun and a Jongdae, sometimes a Jongin too, that would loudly gossip about other people in the background whenever he would call Kyungsoo or Minseok on his free time. He had heard how Oh Sehun was finally getting his together and trying not to fail every class he took. He had heard how Oh Sehun made up with Luhan and became friends with the elder Chinese again. He had heard how Jongin, Minseok and Oh Sehun joined a dance competition and won. He had also heard how Oh Sehun once ate too much cashews and almonds; he had to be sent to the emergency room to prevent anaphylaxis. What an idiot. Chanyeol almost ran back home.

“Yah! Park Chanyeol! Stop being an idiot!” Kyungsoo yelled at him all the way from Seoul. “I swear if you came home right now I will kick your so hard you’d fly back to Paris.”

Chanyeol just sighed, watching Oh Sehun peacefully sleeping on his old, worn out couch. The boy had been sleeping for about two hours and he really wasn’t sure if he should wake the younger up for dinner or just leave him be. He really didn’t have to contemplate when the boy’s eyes fluttered open, eyes tired from his nap. Chanyeol wanted to run.

“Morning.” Sehun mumbled as he rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust from the awfully bright, old chandelier hanging from the ceiling. “What time is it?”

“Six thirty.”

Sehun’s eyes shot wide open as he dig through his pocket and fished his half dead cellphone. Fifty eight missed calls, seventy six text messages, all decorated with his friends’ names.

Pororo Hyung
Pororo Hyung
Pororo Hyung
Trolldae
Pororo Hyung
Joonmoney
Pororo Hyung
Joonmoney
Pororo Hyung
Bacon
Bacon
Trolldae
Baozi
Pororo Hyung
Pororo Hyung
Pororo Hyung
Kkamjong
Pororo Hyung
Kkamjong
Pororo Hyung
Pororo Hyung
Luhan-hyung
Pororo Hyung
Pororo Hyung

And the list just went on. Sehun almost cringed when he opened the last message.

“HOLY OH SEHUN. WHERE IN HELL ARE YOU? CALL ME IN FIVE MINUTES OR I WILL SELL JONGDAE IN THE BLACK MARKET TO BOOK THE NEXT FLIGHT TO PARIS AND HUNT YOUR DOWN AND DRAG YOU BACK TO KOREA AND I SWEAR I WILL MURDER PARK CHANYEOL AFTER!”

“You should call him.” A familiar, deep, baritone voice he had missed so much rung in his head. It sounded so pleasant and calm, almost like music, almost like those tunes he used to dance along with. “I don’t really want to die yet.”

“I don’t too.” Sehun forced himself to not drop the comment. Instead, he just grinned and shook his head, feeling a little dizzy with every move. “I don’t think I would want to talk to him right now. I’ll just text him and call Joonmyun-hyung later.”

Chanyeol just watched Sehun as the younger typed something on his pone, eyes slightly squinting every time the small device would vibrate. He was pretty sure Kyungsoo was still flooding the boy with calls and messages, probably also got Jongin right beside him, doing the exactly the same thing. Jongin had become a lot like Kyungsoo and it was almost like having parents fussing over all of them everyday – even though Jongin wouldn’t really be a good parent material, he would be the kind of parent that would let you drink beer at the age of three and buy you the whole McDonalds dollar menu. His eyes went from the boy’s awfully skinny fingers to the younger’s pale face. His used-to-be flat cheekbones were then protruding even when he wasn’t smiling, his eyes were twinkling yet reddish and had bags that almost covered half of his face under it – the boy definitely looked terrible. And bright red bush atop his head wasn’t helping either.

“So since when did your hair-“ The boy’s head quickly shot up, eyes looking straight at Chanyeol, making him stop in the middle of his sentence.

“What about my hair?”

“Nothing.”

Sehun just raised his brow. “Go ahead, say it. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard worse.”

Chanyeol just shrugged, almost giggling. He knew his friends and he was pretty sure all of them were very creative when thinking of insults. Jongdae once said it was god-given talent, only special people had it. He just walked back to his fridge and grabbed something from the freezer – a popsicle stick that he usually used to pacify the kids he was babysitting. A smile curved his lips as he slowly, tore open the package and handed the ice cream to Sehun.

“Strawberry popsicle. Very creative.” Sehun chuckled and took the popsicle in his mouth. “but not as clever as Jongdae-hyung and Zitao.”

“Uhuh?”

Sehun nodded. “Zitao once went with me to Gangnam and we passed by Mcdonalds to get some lunch. He made me sit at a certain table and started taking pictures of me. The next think I knew, he had my pictures on his weibo account and edited my face in some Mcdonalds advertisement .” The boy his ice cream and cocked his head. Chanyeol suddenly felt a little too warm on a winter night. “Jongdae-hyung mentioned me in one of his speeches.  Our futures are bright, but not as bright as Oh Sehun’s hair.” The boys added, mocking Jongdae’s voice, face scrunched in disgust. “You guys are horrible. I swear.”

Chanyeol shook his head, trying not to laugh out loud and make the boy feel even worse about his bright red hair. He was more than sure the boy already had enough puns made about his hair.

“Well why did you dye your hair that color then?”

“Byun ing Baekhyun.”

The said name was more than enough for Chanyeol to lose his control, deep, baritone laughter filling the small, tacky apartment.  He had to sit on the floor just too keep himself from falling on his face as his laugh out his entire energy. Five minutes later, he was lying on the carpeted floor, barely breathing with a bunch of throw pillows scattered around him, courtesy of Oh Sehun. The younger started throwing whatever he had at arm’s reach at Chanyeol as soon as the giant started cackling.

“Why the hell would you listen to Baehkyun-hyung about hair color? Did you already forget? The last time you listened to him about your hair, you ended up with some sort of greenish lump on your head and you had to suffer for about two weeks because the stylist refused to dye your hair again in such a short time because it would kill your scalp.”

“I know that. Thank you very much. you by the way.” Sehun threw another pillow at him. “I lost in a bet okay.”

Chanyeol finally regained his consciousness and decided to sit up with his long legs crossed, head leaning on the edge of the couch Sehun was laying down on. The boy unconsciously reached for his short, brown hair and playfully twiddled his fingers with the soft strands. The gesture was very familiar, it almost made Chanyeol cringe. It reminded him of the late movie nights they had, the random I’m hungry I want ramen nights that would usually end up in a I wanna cuddle in the couch until I feel like it nights too – Chanyeol wanted to run, yet the familiar tingling feeling in his stomach was keeping him in place, savoring every second he had long missed.

“Sehun-ah.” Chanyeol finally spoke, with eyes half closed. “I heard you quit school. Why?”

Chanyeol remembered the time when Kyungsoo told him that Oh Sehun quit school. He said he would talk to the boy, finally after two years, and make him continue his studies but Kyungsoo just stopped him. Joonmyun even said that he should just let Sehun do what he wanted; the boy had his own reasons. Chanyeol never really dwell into it that much, he didn’t have enough time to do so nor did he have enough courage to talk to the boy again. He was afraid he would come running back to Seoul once he hears the younger’s voice. Chanyeol was a coward.

“You knew I quit?”

He nodded.

“What else do you know?”

“Just that. And whatever the others felt like telling me, also what I hear from Jongdae’s and Baekhyun’s gossips from the background.”

He could almost see Sehun smirking behind his closed eyelids. It was stupid how much he knew the boy that he could guess how the younger would react without even looking at him. They had been friends for almost a decade, something very complicated for a couple of weeks, and something he really couldn’t explain for about three years – it was already given he would know even the tiniest habit Oh Sehun would have.

“I had to quit.”

“Why? Did they kick you out? Were you failing?”

“No. I was on the top of the class actually. I kicked Jongin’s in our finals. Teacher Hyukjae was so proud. He even asked me if I wanted a job at his dance studio.” Chanyeol’s eyes flutter open, catching the smile that lit up Sehun’s pale face. “I would have been a dean’s lister by the end of the school year.”

He almost wanted to give the younger a smack in the head if just not for the very comforting feeling the hand on his head was giving him. Maybe the boy was doing it on purpose, knowing that being pet was one of his weaknesses. He just ended up shaking his head, making him earn a gentle tug on his fringe telling him to stop moving. His hands were tucked under his legs, keeping them from responding to a certain urge to touch the boy’s hand. Why was it such a very hard task?

“I had to quit because my body doesn’t want to listen to me anymore hyung. I can’t dance anymore.”

Chanyeol’s heart started beating erratically; his thoughts started wandering to the worst corners of his imagination. It was awful, yet not a single word was spoken. Quitting school was one thing, but not being able to dance was a totally different matter. He had known Sehun since they were ten and the boy had already loved dancing ever since. The first time they met, the boy was dancing along some tune that only Oh Sehun could hear. The way the boy’s scrawny arms and skinny legs swayed along the spring wind, cherry blossom petals moving gracefully around the boy’s body as if they were dancing long with him. Chanyeol though it was breathtaking, literally. He really didn’t notice that he held his breath until the boy flicked the bridge of his nose.

“Yah! What the hell?!” He yelled.

The boy just chuckled, tiny eyes twinkling as they disappeared into thin lines. “You’re a dork you know that right?” The dancer turned around and took a seat under the Japanese red pine and closed his eyes. “I’m Oh Sehun by the way.”

“Park Chanyeol.” He just muttered, still a tiny bit close to being dumbfounded. Sehun would always rub on his face how ridiculous he looked the first time they met – with traces of paint and mud on his plain white shirt and face, black fuzzy hair sticking out in every direction. Chanyeol couldn’t say anything. Sehun definitely looked perfect, almost godly, that day. Oh Sehun always looked flawless in Park Chanyeol’s eyes.

“I have ALS. Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. I was diagnosed almost a year and half ago, I didn’t really tell anybody because I thought I would be okay. The doctor said it was still treatable if I would just take some rest, follow the therapy and take my pills. But you know me.” Sehun shrugged. “I never listen. I kept dancing, missed a few pills, never took any rest because I wanted to catch up with school. I never really cared until one day, I was practicing some ballet stunts with Jongin and I fell. I had no idea how. I just fell. My left leg was numb for a week, I couldn’t do anything.” Chanyeol heard a sob. It woke him up from the shock that quickly ate up his whole being. He moved to the couch and lay down beside the crying boy as he s his arm around his frail shoulders, rubbing random circles on the thin arms. “That’s when everybody found out. Everybody was so mad at me for not telling them anything. Joonmyun-hyung was the only one that understood why I did it. Kyungsoo-hyung would cry every time he would see me. Jongdae-hyung didn’t even see me until I could walk again. He said he couldn’t because he was busy. Baekhyun-hyung said Jongdae-hyung locked himself up in his room the whole time. It was awful you know. I thought I wouldn’t be able to walk anymore. Then apparently Minseokkie-hyung contacted my brother and they brought me to specialist. I was able to walk again. But it doesn’t really matter. I can never dance anymore hyung. I cant .. I just .. I’m still breathing .. but I .. I feel so dead.”

Chanyeol’s heart broke into tiny pieces, along with Sehun voice that faded away into sobs that pierced through his system. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to punch everything, fate preferably. He wanted to pray and ask questions – how, why – but he wasn’t sure where to start. He wanted to tell the boy that it would be okay, that everything would be alright and that Hyung is here you’ll be okay but no. He knew to himself that it would never be okay and that hyung was never there. He thought it was almost too ironic how the movie report he did a few months ago was about Jenifer, a movie about a girl that was diagnosed with ALS. He knew what the disease could do. He knew how important dancing was for Oh Sehun. He knew that what the younger said was right, Oh Sehun was still breathing but he was already dead. He remembered one of his professors saying “One way to kill a character without stopping them from breathing or ripping their heart out is to keep them from doing what they love. For example, make singer get into an accident that would damage its vocal cord.”

Park Chanyeol’s world suddenly stopped spinning once more. He once said he liked character deaths in movies, he thought it was romantic, but wasn’t making movies anymore. He wasn’t just interpreting the script his writer wrote for him, nor was he just editing the videos he shot. He wasn’t just creating motion pictures from his imagination, his best friend was real, Oh Sehun was real, and he was in Chanyeol’s arms, shedding tears caused by his own death. Chanyeol then realized that character death in real life was very far from romantic. It was awful. It was obnoxious. It was excruciating.

“Sehun-ah.” He cupped the younger’s cheeks and tried to wipe the tears that was consistently flowing from the pair of crescent eyes, only to fail when the boy’s tears just doubled when their eyes met. He wanted to cry too but he chose not to, even his tears were almost screaming to roll down his cheeks. He wouldn’t cry. He had to be strong for both of them. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you talk to me about this so I can help you?”

Sehun just bit his lips, bloodshot eyes wavering. He almost didn’t want to answer.

“Because you weren’t there hyung. You left me.”

Chanyeol was not strong enough. He never was. Even the sky started crying. Thunder roared. Lightning cracked the dark, winter night sky.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could say as he kissed the younger’s tears away, literally. Repeating the same set of words over and over again as if it could turn back time and undo the choices he had made. “I’m sorry Sehun-ah. Hyung is here now okay?”

There was a weak nod. And there was a chase kiss placed on cracked lips, stained by tears brought by sadness and regret. It was sweet yet so bitter. Angst was the term his Chanyeol’s professors would choose to call it. Chanyeol would just use sad, simple yet agonizing.

“What happened to us Hyung? Why did you leave me?” A question was dropped right before crescent eyes fluttered closed and drifted back to sleep.

Chanyeol just closed his eyes, thinking of misconceptions, clichés, and broken promises. It was too nostalgic it hurt.

A/N:

Kardy and Cheru my friends I just really had to mention them.
I am really trying to vary the focus on the side characters but i keep coming back to Kyungsoo since it was already established in the previous chapters how close was he with ChanHun so I guess I cant really change that anymore.
If I'm gonna write this as I planned, there will only be one chapter left.
Also, thanks for the new subscribers, comments, and upvotes. Everything was well appreciated. Thank you!

xoxo - rin