Jongin was even quieter that morning when he wordlessly offered Jongdae to help him, packing the textbooks for him and even paying attention to place them in the order of the classes.

 

”Is your fist okay?” Jongdae inquired during early breakfast for both got up rather early, even for the first day of the week, and were unnaturally quiet, despite their long established routine of Jongdae’s monologues and sign language. Their interactions were always either vocal solely from Jongdae’s side or completely soundless, yet this time around, Jongin bothered enough not to even scrape his spoon over the bottom of the bowl, eating his cereals without making even the lightest noise.

 

Jongin simply lifted his fist upwards, showing the bruised skin around knuckles and flexing his fingers as to show he was functioning just well, lowering it down mere moments after.

 

”I don’t think I thanked you properly for what you have done that day. I really don’t know how to say it, but... Thank you. I don’t think I would have lived without you-”

 

”It’s okay.”

 

”because I really-”

 

Eyes full of shock lifted upwards, metal spoon clattering as it fell deep into its confines, Jongdae’s slack jaw hanging down as he stared disbelievingly at Jonging’s unfazed form. The boy was unaffected, simply continuing to busy himself with his breakfast.

 

”J-Jongin...?” Jongdae breathed out in amazement, as for the first time in seven long years his ears had the pleasure of hearing the unusually husky hue of Jongin’s voice, ever since the car accident that rendered Jongin speechless and their mother a widow.

 

”I forgot how to.” The younger admitted, messy locks of rich, chocolate brown covering his eyes as he spoke, filling his mouth with plain, but satiating enough food. “First I didn’t want to. Then I forgot how to.” Jongin admitted.

 

”You forgot how to speak? H-how?” Jongdae inquired, hands shaking uncontrollably in a sudden gush of excitement other’s voice brought.

 

”I don’t know. It was easier to be silent and refuse to speak when people expressed their condolences. It was easier not to wail and scream when I felt sad, but then, even when I wanted to speak, I just couldn’t - silence became natural. And so I stayed silent. It was easier.”

 

”But why now, of all times? Of all years?” Jongdae asked.

 

”My hand is hurt.”

 

Oh, Jongdae thought suddenly, realizing the connotation of the words. His hand, the only mean he still used to talk with, was bruised enough not to be useful for communication, thus he was left only with him mouth and mouth alone.

 

”Your voice is nice.” Jongdae commented, smiling. “It sounds... fitting.”

 

Jongin inquired by merely raising of his eyebrows.

 

”Unobtrusive, just like you.” Jongdae explained.

 

Just like you.

 

School, unlike the aforementioned morning, was a certainly no surprise. After being absent for almost, almost Jongdae gritted his teeth in anguish, but not nearly enough, a week, one would dare thinking it was enough of a time for people to forget about the incident, to stop caring.

 

But then again, incidents have no expiration date, and this was no exclusion to the rule. He could hear the so carefully blanketed gossips gushing around him, low menacing whispers directed at his form.

 

People who never bothered to notice him before now recognized him as the wheelchair , and those who have noticed him before now simply took all it had to avoid him. Once or twice he raised his head, regretting the action momentarily as he could see the atrocious glares sent in his direction, people not even least bit bothered to hide their gazes.

 

He really opted to lock himself in the room for the remainder of the school year.

 

Yet among the myriad of eyes following him, out of which only a single pair held no menace in them, he failed to meet Joonmyeon’s worried gaze.

 

Jongin was in front of the school gates again, albeit he did not push the wheelchair that day. He simply satiated himself by walking next to visibly unwilling Jongdae who wished not to utter even a word as they passed the courtyard, chatting of the girls silenced for a whole another reason this time around.

 

They grazed Jongdae’s frame with their gazes, not even bothered to wait until the two brothers pass before they started gossiping again. Jongin gritted his teeth in remorse, regretting the decision he made, left solely with the trek through the courtyard now.

 

They couldn’t turn around.

 

Jongdae’s mother still occasionally inquired about the incident with firm intent of helping her son, though she was left clueless and rendered wordless by the lack of information from Jongdae. He would always reply in short sentences, refusing to tell her of what happened.

 

They had fought numerous times in the next two weeks, almost always ending with furious Jongdae growling and thrown on the verge of crying while his mother pleaded in tears for him to tell her, to explain to her the reason for his silence, yet all he could ever give her was “I will tell you when I can.”, but she still feared she will never learn.

 

His phone buzzed countless times every evening, the device vibrating, yet Jongdae disregarded it each time, bothering not to pay attention to Mark’s messages. He replied once or twice simply to let the other know he was alright, but refrained from more than that.

 

Day in and day out, the same monotone repetition ensued.

 

-how are you?

 

nauseous , but otherwise alright    Jongdae replied.

 

-I was really worried, you know. I still am and it makes me feel completely at loss

 

I don’t think I follow what you say   Jongdae .

 

-I told you I would make you laugh when you’re sad, but now that you were, I couldn’t. I feel like a failure of a friend.

 

you’re just worrying too much, that’s all. I’m fine, so you’re still counted as an extraordinary friend, don’t bring yourself down because of me

 

-will you tell me what happened then? Mark_Twain inquired.

 

do you really want to know? Jongdae mentally sighed at other’s intent of drawing out the truth.

 

A reply ensued in a mere moment after:

 

-yes

 

why? Jongdae inquired.

 

-because it makes me feel closer to you. Like you regard me as a true friend and not just a faceless person behind a screen. And you make me really worried, too

I just want to feel more real to you, but you keep pushing me away and that hurts.

 

you sound melodramatic Jongdae sighed.

 

-I sound desperate.

 

Taken aback by the reply, Jongdae bit his lip, worrying it gently in between his teeth as he stared at the keyboard with clear uneasiness written over his face.

 

fine, you deserve an explanation

 

He mustered a response, slowly continuing to type the message that ought to give a better explanation.

 

everybody saw the photos of Joonmyeon. I was going home one day when bullies picked on me and took my camera and then everybody saw it. They saw what was inside. Joonmyeon was there too and he saw it all, but he didn’t say anything. I didn’t see him after that, and I’m scared to see him. I don’t want to see him. He’s going to have the same judging eyes as everybody else and I... I will not be able to live with that look etched in my mind

 

-you’re avoiding him The conclusion arrived swift on its feet.

 

that’s obvious Jongdae snorted at the unnervingly simple response.

 

-because you’re scared?

 

what else

 

-but if he didn’t care about that, would you still be scared?

 

excuse me?

 

-I’m asking you if you would still ignore him even if he wasn’t disturbed by the fact you like him

 

...I don’t know Jongdae's brows furrowed.

 

-do you like him honestly?

 

what has gotten into you? Jongdae's eyes widened.

 

-answer me

 

yes, I like him  

 

More than anything, what scared Jongdae were the following words:

 

 

-Jongdae, I want to meet you

 

I’m sorry? He asked with a shaky gasp escaping his lips, hands shivering as they typed.

 

-I want to meet up with you

 

nonsense. I’m not as nice as you think I am  He tried to come up with as many and as plausible excuses as possible.

 

 

-you’re even nicer

 

sod off

 

-I won’t. I want to meet you in person

 

what does that have anything to do with my liking for Joonmyeon?

 

 

-a lot, actually

 

Unsatisfied with the answer, Jongdae demanded more than simple three words for a reply.

 

explain

 

-I can’t, that’s the thing. You won’t understand.

 

I will if you try

 

-why are you so stubborn?

 

because I don’t want to meet you

 

-why? are you afraid of me The other inquired softly.

 

not you, but of people

 

-I have to meet you nonetheless  The relentless and unhindered prodding continued.

 

you sound like you’re dying  Jongdae commented dryly.

 

-almost, from the way I feel. That’s why we have to meet

 

The coldness conveyed in the reply that ensued was quite palpable and biting:

 

 

you know I won’t come even if we do agree

 

-I’ll do anything you want The other pleaded in return.

 

beg your pardon?

 

-I’ll wear the most embarrassing outfit ever, I’ll wear a humongous name tag, anything you want, just agree to meet up with me

 

why would I do that?

 

-it’s to your benefit, that’s the best I can explain this

 

what is this you are talking about?

 

-something that you have been mourning over for a long time

 

I don’t understand what you mean

 

-you don’t need to. Please say yes

 

you scare me Jongdae typed through a harsh bite of his lower lip, trying not to claw at his face in irritation.

 

-There is a new gallery opening up in town, do you want to go to the exhibition? A lot of photographs will be shown, along with some paintings and coal sketches.

 

A gallery visit was the last thing he ever expected to be offered with.

 

that sounds innocent  Was the only conclusion he could come up with.

 

-you make it sound like I’m about to kidnap you

 

it seems like that

 

-i’m not.

 

Jongdae cradled his head in hands, fingers trembling in anger caught prey to the tresses that winded their way around them, latching for the skin. With a sigh escaping his lips, rubbing tiredly at his reddened eyes, he typed a curt reply:

 

okay, but under one condition

 

-I’m listening The other responded.

 

 

you will wear a teddy bear on your back with a name tag on your front

 

-why...something like that
isn’t that a bit...too much?

 

I want you to be more embarrassed than me    And it was simple, quite actually, for his hurt pride wished to revel in at least bit of someone else’s shame.

 

-that’s evil and despicable even, but I’ll go with it if you’re going to show up   The other shed away all of his pride and self-respect merely to see him and Jongdae had to applaud Mark for that. To throw away your better sense of judgement and put yourself down merely to appease someone, that was certainly no easy feat.

 

I promise   Jongdae agreed to the deal, feeling it would be an outright insult to step on someone’s casted away pride like that.

 

-thank you.  it’s on May 21st. The address is Jung-gu, Seocho-dong, 1308-22, Hana building entrance. Just pass into the courtyard and you’ll see the entrance. It opens at 2pm, so I’ll wait for you inside (it’s a free entrance)

 

you seem excited Jongdae noted with a semblance of a smile tugging at his lips.

 

-I really am Came a honest reply.

 

May 21st came sooner than Jongdae thought it would. The days flew by like dust carried by the breeze of approaching humid summer and Jongdae found himself more and more often sporting loose wifebeaters compared to short-sleeved shirts.

He had explained his mother that he had to meet a friend that day to which she disapprovingly raised an eyebrow, inquiring him as to which friend, to which he mustered quickly a believable tell tale of a classmate who invited him and several other of his peers out for drinks.

 

Seemingly happy that her son finally indulged himself in human interaction, compared to years spent cooped up in his room and basking in his solitude, she wholeheartedly agreed.

 

Jongin offered to accompany him one part of the way which, much to Jongdae’s surprise, wasn’t spent silent for the first time in seven years. Jongin talked more often than ever, causing their mother to choke on her coffee one early morning when the youngest greeted her in an unfazed and nonchalant manner, not even least bit disturbed by her shocked face.

 

”Who are you meeting?” Asked Jongin in a low and hoarse voice, still unused to talking.

 

”Mark.” Jongdae replied, the ends of his clean and perfectly ironed dress shirt. His mother urged him to wear the new jeans she bought for him, much to his dislike, but he still obliged to wear the snug pants of blue hue that softened the contrasting black of his Converse.

 

Instinctively, his hand reached up to touch the camera that would have hung around his neck hadn’t it been lost in the crowd weeks prior.

 

”Who is Mark?” Inquired Jongin as he continued pushing the wheelchair forwards gently, taking his time from the bus stop to reach the address Jongdae was given.

 

”You know him, the guy who likes my photos. I’m meeting up with him.”

 

”Not scared?”

 

”Of him... I don’t know. I’m anxious, that’s all. I wouldn’t say I’m scared, but uncertain perhaps.” Jongdae nodded in conclusion, playing with the buttons of his dress shirt.

 

”If he tries anything-”

 

”-there will be people there.” Intercepted him Jongdae.

 

”Nonetheless. I’ll have his skin, I swear.”

 

Smiling, Jongdae bobbed his head up and down as he lost his eyes to the sight of people swarming past them, unfazed by a pair of young boys trudging their path into unknown, majority of people lost in their phone calls.

 

”You can leave me off there.” He commented, pointing at a building across the street that had a large sign with nicely curving letters that said “Hana” and beneath that, in a certainly smaller font “hotel”.

 

Jongin nodded with a slightly anxious look on his face, as if uneasy to let Jongdae go.

 

”I’m gonna survive.”

 

”Fine.” The younger muttered in a slightly indignant voice. “Send me a message when you want to go home.”

 

Jongdae nodded in agreement, smiling thankfully as Jongin crossed the street with him and after a few goodbyes that ensued, parted his way at the end.

 

The courtyard was plain and spacious with two unidentified, exotic looking trees of wide trunks and dark bark twisting from the ground, leaves chattering pleasantly on the wind that picked up.

 

The gallery entrance seemed simple, plain glass door slithered to the side when he approached them. He was greeted by a young woman - receptionist working there, her long, sable tresses bouncing elegantly as she walked.

 

”Mister Kim Jongdae, may I presume?” She called him and Jongdae suddenly bolted, posture rigid as his name was called and he nodded his head in reply, mouth dry from sudden anticipation.

 

”Feel free to look around the exhibits, you were expected.”

 

”Expected?” He stammered shyly, countered by a knowing smile of the receptionist as she hefted a heavy handful of papers in one hand and headed off for her work desk situated near the entrance, hidden behind a low wall.

 

Except for the small clattering noise the woman made by fetching a pen, the rest of the space was filled with silence. Unknown to him what to do precisely, he gingerly wound his fingers around his wheels and pushed them forwards, them screeching painfully as he slowly started to approach the closest exhibit situated on the wall to his right.

 

It was a photoset of seven black and white photos of flowers and fields, set so that they bewitched the onlooker with the beauty beneath the layers of black and white ink they were comprised of, representing the waves of brilliant colours of reality.

 

His ears caught a distant bickering of two men, most of which he had not understood, neither bothered to understand as he let himself go, completely enthralled by photo after a photo, hue after a hue, composition after a composition and contrast of simple and intricate over and over again.

 

I need that. Dad, let go ! A young male snapped, a voice Jongdae failed to recognize straight away.

 

That’s absurd, I’m not letting my son be seen by other people as if he were a dog! Now hand that name tag here.

 

Dad, I need it! The young man whined, followed by a few indignant grunts and huffs.

 

Nonsense, you will not embarrass yourself! A rough voice chided the younger one, ensued by a curt sound of something being ripped, akin to paper being cut to shreds, followed by a disbelieving groan of the younger.

 

We’ll talk about this later. The older said with great disapproving, a pair of heavy soles exuding loud clattering noise that dwindled to naught in a moment, leaving the younger of the aforementioned two standing alone in the narrow hallway leading into the gallery from the upper floors restricted to working personnel only.

 

Jongdae had been entranced by a photograph of a young woman grazing her late twenties worn out by hard work kneeling next to her daughter, all battered and bruised from the exhausting field work, giving the little one quarter of a loaf of bread as the young girl sat cross legged on muddy ground, calves painted by dirt with meadow flowers in her wild locks of hair that wind carried away.

 

The next photo though, was one he least expected to see.

 

It was one suffused with colours, all vivid, strong and bright, depicting reality in a perfect way, ridden of all gentleness. It was rough and realistic, depicting pain and sadness mixed with beauty of sharp lines and high cheeks, of eyes lost in the sight of rain and of frame drenched by the pouring curtain released form the skies.

 

There, framed high on the wall in a distinguished place, was a photograph of him with his gaunt face gazing upwards, lost eyes drinking in the sight of the sky split open and pouring light rain.

Jongdae dared say he almost seemed for the first time ever, beautiful in that photograph.

 

Enthralled by the aura the work gave off, his disability showing even bolder than before, Jongdae failed to notice the quiet squeaking of a pair of shoes until he felt a presence next to him.

 

”You looked beautiful that day when I watched you, you know? I couldn’t keep my eyes off of the sight. Hadn’t my umbrella fall from my hand, I would have never remembered to pass it to you. I was afraid you would get a cold, standing like that in rain. I knew who you were for a very, very long time, but my fear got the better of me and all I was left with were my notebook and the camera in my backpack.”

 

Taken aback by the sudden presence, Jongdae’s eyes widened in shock, staring disbelievingly ahead at the stillness of motion of the photograph, mind all too eagerly registering and recognizing the voice to his right.

 

”There was a side of me that felt proud upon the fact that I knew both sides of you; the you the world knew, and the you only I knew. I didn’t know at first who you were exactly, I just questioned a few options, but when you furiously introduced yourself to me and I was sure who you were... I-I felt exhilarated. Even now I don’t know why, but I finally felt at peace. It was even strange how familiar your voice felt.”

 

Jongdae was now certain who it was by his side, but the maddening thumping of his heart and the pumping of blood in his veins was deafening as he found himself breathing heavily, anxiousness clawing at his insides as he mustered all of his courage to bring his head up, glasses sliding down his nose.

 

”J-Joonmyeon?” He inquired in a shaky voice.

 

”It took me a lot of courage to do this, you know? All along...All along I thought you were perfect - brave and strong, stronger than I could ever be, because you never wailed over your lack of sense in legs or the way people treated you. Whenever you talked with me, you were snarky, biting, yet caring at the same time. It felt strange, but pleasant nonetheless. This-” He pointed towards the photo. “Was what I saw all along in you. Beauty.”

 

”Joonmyeon, you’re confusing me.” Jongdae stammered through muffled words.

 

”I like you Kim Jongdae, I really do. Like no one ever before. I admire you and appreciate you for your courage to bear the burden on your own, baring your teeth and living your life the best you can.”

 

”Sod o-off.” Jongdae said through chuckles and both burst into laughter as Joonmyeon kneeled on the flooring next to Jongdae’s form, cradling latter's handsome face in hands as the Jongdae let sadness finally overcome him and be gone once for all, ridding himself of all the sorrow that was left in the empty hollow of his form and finally bloom in the excitement of love, for the first time ever.

 

”Joonmyeon, take that absurd thing off your back!”

 

A snarl resonated from the nearby hallway as Joonmyeon’s father, the owner of the gallery and respectively, the exhibits, groaned, exacerbated by the plush toy with straps tied for it.

 

Joonmyeon laughed, shoulders shaking as he turned himself around and flashed the sight of a battered and old teddy bear, most likely an old childhood memory with a missing eye and resewn limbs with stuffing escaping on a few places as he started taking it off.

 

Breath halted, a thick knot forming in Jongdae’s throat in a moment of sudden excitement, he let out a soft and grateful whimper.

 

It was him all along.

The End.