A long chapter because I already owned you all like four chapters. I'm so sorry! ='(

Chapter XXII

“If I can see pain in your eyes then share with me your tears.

If I can see joy in your eyes then share with me your smile.” 

― Santosh Kalwar

Everything turned chaotic after meeting Daesung that night. A pair of drinks, or so Jiyong thought; words slurred that made no sense but ended up always forming the name “Seungri” as a mournful gasp, and whines slipping away from his lips without approval (because if Youngbae had no reasons to get drunk, Jiyong had in abundance). He was barely conscious of being dragged outside the bar by a pair of familiar arms, Youngbae’s voice attempting to keep him awake, his raspy voice affirming Youngbae he would be fine and to leave him alone, his own clumsy steps trying to reach his room, a loud bang somewhere when he tried to support his weight over something, the sound of falling things scattering over the floor and finally his own body falling while he laughed stupidly between drunken tears, and then nothing.

The cold was what woke him up. Jiyong opened his eyes and was welcomed by a terrible headache and a backache that stretched from his neck to his lower back as if he had been hit by something. He tried to stretch his arms over the mattress to relieve the pain but soon recognized he wasn’t lying on his bed but over the cold floor of the room, Seungri’s room. He looked around while lifting his weight with his right arm, and groaned when he saw the mess he had made the night before. One of the drawers next to the bed had fallen to the floor, breaking into tinny wood parts, and all the things that were kept inside of it now were dumped and spread over the floor: post-its, buttons, pens and a lot of small things that would clearly be a hassle to collect again. He ran a hand over his face frustrated and with a head throbbing in pain he groaned a loud “”, and stood up still dizzy and confused.

He started collecting all the stuff, placing them over the bed. He threw the broken parts of the drawer into the trashcan as much as it hurt for the –ing- piece of furniture was kind of too expensive and now he would need to buy another one. Finally he searched under the bed for any lost things and that was when he saw it, a notebook that wasn’t there before was lying there, with its pages opened messily. He stretched his arm and grabbed it and, when in his hands, he studied it carefully and gasped when he recognized it as Seungri’s notebook, the one he used to carry always for writing or drawing things he would never show to Jiyong.

He frowned and sat at the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the old and dusty covers of the notebook and the stains that clearly said the notebook used to travel a lot and had a story, or kept it inside its pages. And while a part of him told him to return the notebook to his owner respecting the privacy of its content, the other one was faster and pushed his fingers to open the first pages while he hold his breath.

Autumn 1998

The first date was written with Seungri’s messy calligraphy. It was followed by pencil drawings of fallen leaves, houses and building’s outlines, broken rooftops, desert streets and simple things such as the wheel of a bike, the shadow of a random street sign over the pavement. They were almost like portraits in black and white, with a melancholic feeling coming from the way they were outlined and highlighted. The date corresponded with the time Seungri was younger and, Jiyong guessed, those images could probably be what Seungri saw while he wandered in the streets, alone whilst a teenager. Sometimes a message would be written under the drawings such as “Lights” or “This Morning” without any other description or explanation.

Then there was a leap in the date showing Seungri had stopped drawing for a long time. December 2014. The drawings were now from things and places he recognized clearly: the pines at his back garden, a drawing of the living room when the weird portraits of Choi Seunghyun still hanged from the walls, his CD rack, his empty kitchen.

Jiyong

Then the subject of the drawings of the notebook changed drastically. And for the first time the face of a human appeared, his face. There were sketches of him sat at the kitchen counter with his head lowered and absent eyes. Seungri at the bottom of the image wrote, “Look at me”.

A mysterious drawing of him sleeping with his head resting over his hands followed, the lights of the night slipping through the curtains and illuminating his features quite magically. “Peace”. And if it was not for the delicacy of the way Seungri draw him as if every detail was important, as though it was indispensable to highlight the way his lips were parted carelessly or the way one of his hands was curled around the pillow, Jiyong could be scared but his heart twisted rather with another softer feeling.

There were lots of drawings of him: looking at the window, sitting at the front porch reading a book. And Jiyong turned the pages fascinated by the devotion and affection expressed in those images. Compelled by the story Seungri unconsciously or consciously told of him, the way his eyes got more light and presence every time he turned the pages. The way his face showed more happiness and looked less lost at every new drawing. Until he reached the last one, where he was smiling sitting over the living room’s sofa, his eyes focused on the TV. But there was contentment in his expressions, something that wasn’t there in the first drawings. And it took him some time to recognize himself as the man portrayed in those pages. Seungri had written something at the bottom of the drawing: “The One Beneath The Lie.” And Jiyong felt it, the hard and piercing truth of it. 

He closed the notebook with a determined movement and searched for the jacket he was wearing the night before. He took his cell phone and searched for Seungri’s number in his contact list and, finally, stood for an instant looking at the screen, a hesitant finger over the calling key. The only one between his present and what he could have. He took a deep breath and images of the first time he meet Seungri rushed through his mind, the way he had thanked and appreciated the fact the supplanter had seemed to be kind, seemed to be… understanding. Then appeared images of Daesung’s face the night before and how it had turned somber when he mentioned Seungri’s name. And the weight of how much he missed listening to Seungri’s voice, how much he missed looking at Seungri’s smile made all his apologies and beggings turn into an uncomfortable lump inside his throat. He did not want Seungri to come back to him rather he wanted to come back to Seungri.

“Hello?” answered a raspy voice, too raspy to be Seungri’s at the other side of the line. Jiyong frowned and grabbed the phone tightly at been unable to recognize the voice.

“S-Seungri?” he asked with a broken voice, swallowing hard, his shoulders tense.

“Excuse me?” replied with a confused tone the other voice, as if he could not understand what was being said.

“Seungri? Is-Is that you?”

After a moment of silence, the man at the other side of the line sighed and with a grave tone explained. “I think you got the wrong number, dude. It’s not the first time someone calls me asking for that name. I’m sorry but no, this is no longer his number, I guess.”

And Jiyong let his head fall between his hands, disappointment creeping through his veins. “T-Thank you. I’m sorry,” he apologized and ended the call before the other voice could reply something else.

How could it be? He tried to understand but it was as though Seungri actually had made all his effort to disappear from his life, to break every single possibility of encountering each other again. And what had seemed a good idea before, now seemed like the worst decision he had ever made. And the fear of it becoming real, of it –not knowing of Seungri anymore- pushed him to the edge and made him shook his head violently while a stronger and stronger no came out from his lips. “No.”

The house was still as same as how he remembered it. White flowers scattered as snowflakes over the green grass and intense white walls.  Jiyong knocked over the door more times than what someone polite was supposed to do and waited until the lady came to answer, wrapped in a sleeping gown, messy hair and sleepy eyes. Clearly she had just been waken up by a certain desperate someone.

“Oh!” she murmured and smiled as kindly as someone sleepy can do and let him inside the house. “Jiyong. Seunghyun’s friend, right?”

Jiyong nodded kind of shy now that he was inside the house and was being studied by the motherly eyes of the lady in front of him. He played with the keys between his fingers and muttered quiet apologies to the lady for waking her up.

“It’s ok. I am not usually up at these hours but I don’t mind seeing the rise of the sun once in while,” she brushed it off and went to the kitchen to –probably- prepare some coffee to actually wake up. “What brings you here?” she asked from the other room.

Jiyong tried to find a way to answer that question the less awkwardly as possible but he gave up and ended up saying. “I-I… It’s something about Seungr… Seunghyun.”

“What is it? Is he ok?” the lady asked worried while she brought two mugs of coffee in each of her hands and place them over the table between them.

“I don’t know. That’s why I am here.”

“You don’t know?” the lady repeated after him skeptical and looked at him, lifting an eyebrow with curiosity. “Why don’t you know?”

“It’s a long story in which I’m probably the only one responsible of it,” he whispered lowering his head ashamed. “I just haven’t seen him for more than four months. And I’ve been scared of calling or looking after him after what I did and now… well I saw one of his friends yesterday and when I, for the first time, gained the strength to ask for him he cut me off with such a darkened expression. And now I just called him against my fears but his number is no longer his. And is as if I can’t reach him anymore and I just don’t know what to do and I feel I deserve this but I thought back then that what I did was a good decision and it would be helpful for him but now I’m worried… “

“Hey! Wait there! Stop, Jiyong!”

Jiyong lifted his eyes and saw the way the lady had now a sympathetic smile over her lips and her left hand was now over his own. How or when the hand had reached his, he did not know but he melted onto the touch letting the contact erase or ease, at least a bit, the distress he was drowning in.

“You are choking yourself in regrets, kid. Unjustified regrets.”

“I am… ashamed of myself right now.” Jiyong let out as a gasp and hold onto the lady’s hands like a kid who is scolded and fears for the punishment. “I thought, maybe, you know something about him. Maybe you could help me?” he said that last part as an uncertain question.

The lady studied him for a moment with a mysterious look in his eyes, it seemed she was weighting the sincerity of his expressions, searching for something until she smiled and shook her head kindly.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of yourself, Jiyong. At least for me you are the same boy who came with Seungri the last time, the boy who held him while he cried in front of his mother’s grave, the one who contacted me and find me in the first place, the one who brought back him to me, and the one who is now here asking again so desperately for him. I see something beautiful in you. The same thing I saw in Seungri’s eyes when he looked at you back then. We make mistakes Jiyong and sometimes we make the right choices but they seem and feel as mistakes. Don’t punish yourself for the choices you made back then. The situations changed from how they were then and how they are now and you can’t judge what you did with these eyes but with the eyes you used to have. Whatever you did or happened it probably was justified then, even though you can’t justify it now…. You are different because of it”

“I really see something new in you. Now you are certain of something, and that certainty wasn’t here the last time I saw you. Whatever was the thing you did, it clearly at least, help you understand something.”

And Jiyong could do nothing but breath and listen. What was he certain about now? He was certain of who he was and what he wanted. He wanted to love, to give love to him. He loved him and had loved him for a long time ago. But his love wasn’t as how it was always portrayed or how he had expected it to be, his love wasn’t soft and tender, his love was violent and strong and confusing and hurting and until now he understood it. He loved as how he knew and could, with all his whole but for a long time his whole was broken so he loved brokenly. But he tried, as much crooked as he was, he tried and Seungri had accepted it, his crooked kind of love. And took him as gold, as valuable. And he did not see it then but now he did and he wanted Seungri’s crooked kind of love too, he wanted what he could gave, he wanted his smile back, he wanted… to make Seungri smile again.

“He came here three months ago, I think. He visited his mother’s grave and he looked like you, actually. He looked certain of something.” The woman recalled.

“Was he happy?”

“He looked determined,” said as possible answer the woman.

“Of what?”

“Who knows?” shrugged the woman and laughed tenderly. “I didn’t ask.” Then she crossed her arms and looked again at Jiyong smiling. “You two are like two pieces of the same puzzle. A puzzle made of two. I don’t think no one will ever understand you two when you are not together.”

She then stood up, told him to wait for her and walked to her room, disappearing for a moment. When she came back she gave him a piece of paper with a number written in it. “He gave me this number for when I needed to contact him. Hope it helps you both.”

“Thank you”

The woman nodded and added, “Now I would very much like to return to sleep. I’m an old woman and I appreciate my sleep whenever I can sleep a bit longer. I thankfully have no dramas to be entertained with at this age. Take care, Jiyong.”

“I will. Thank you,” said Jiyong with a half smile and stepped out of the house still saying “thank you” over and over again.

Once inside his car, he called the number and waited for the answer, the words the lady had just said to him kept him from hesitating.

“Who is this?” asked a kind voice and it sounded familiar to Jiyong but for different reasons than the ones he expected.

“Seungri?” he hesitated for he was almost sure it was not Seungri but he knew that voice and it was related with Seungri in some way.

“No, I’m sorry. Who asks for him?”

And that gave Jiyong the clue that whoever was the one at the other side of the line, knew the name and knew who Seungri was.

“I’m Jiyong. Kwon Jiyong,” he let out his name with fear and closed his eyes waiting for the “beep” to appear of someone hanging the phone. But what he heard was a deep sigh and a muted laugh, seemingly the man knew him and did not expect to hear from him.

“How did you got my personal phone number, Kwon Jiyong?” the man asked with a witty comical tone and that was what Jiyong needed to recognize the voice, with a gasp he asked.

“Daesung?”

“Who else? So… looking for Seungri, huh? Why do you have my number, again?”

Jiyong sighed, disappointed again and he wondered if from now then he would stumble always with the same disappointment over and over again every time he tried to reach for Seungri.

“Long story. Someone told me I could contact him with this number. I’m sorry,” he murmured defeated but Daesung answer took him by surprise.

“Well you can. But what makes you think I would help you?”

“I don’t,” declared Jiyong instantly, interrupting Daesung’s questioning. “I don’t think you will. I’m sorry for disturbing you, Daesung.” He apologized and was about to end the call when he heard Daesung exclaiming.

“Hey! Hey! Hold your horses, boy! Sorry, ok? Meet me at the Han Jan Café, today at seven thirty. How about that? I want to know why are you looking for him, I really do.”

And the sincerity and inquisitiveness in his voice next to the opportunity to know something, as little as it could be, about Seungri’s whereabouts, pushed Jiyong to accept the offer.  He could not lose more than what he had already lost four months ago, and that was a truth he had to accept.

The café wasn’t unfamiliar for Jiyong. Seungri used to talk about that place as the only one he feel as home and comfortable, “The place I can almost call home” were the words he once used to describe the place. He tried not to over think much about the reasons of Daesung choosing that place but he felt a sharp twinge the moment he stepped inside the café feeling he was trespassing inside a private place, inside Seungri’s past and history and was, painfully, unwelcomed. He chose one of the tables next to the windows, that way he could escape from his discomfort by staring at the street and the cars and peasants. But the smell of the place wasn’t something he could escape as easily and soon dizziness overwhelmed him for it was close to the smell that used to flood his kitchen every time Seungri used to cook breakfast and do coffee for them both, back then.

What had changed? What was what had him now, right there, sat at that café, waiting for Daesung after four long months doing nothing but mourning? And the message at the bottom of the last of Seungri’s drawings appeared in front of his eyes, “The One Beneath The Lie”. There it was. What he doubted back then, it was like the answer, his personal answer. Seungri had seen him, had crumbled every wall and stayed next to him, patiently waiting and withstanding until he was that Jiyong again.  And he should have done the same, crumble Seungri’s own walls, make him face himself, his own suffering and he had done it in a way but had forgotten one simple but important thing, he should have stayed next to him.

“Hey,” an upbeat voice greeted him and took him out of his thoughts. Daesung sat in front of him without waiting for Jiyong’s acknowledgement and placed a backpack at his side with a bright smile in his face. And -why do everything that was related with Seungri had to have a smile over its face? – Jiyong sighed. Daesung was wearing casual clothes, a shirt, jeans and a dark brown jacket hanging from his waist. He looked distinct for a strange reason, less formal. “Are you gonna say hi or are you going to stare at me the whole evening?” Daesung joked.

“You look different”

And Daesung laughed, truly laughed and looked at Jiyong kind of amused. “That’s the same exact thing Seungri says every time he sees me,” he leant forward and rested his chin on his right hand, considering Jiyong with narrowed eyes but a half-smile. After a moment in which Jiyong discomfort triplicate and his lower lip started to swell for being bitten so harshly, Daesung nodded as if he had came to a resolution and averted his eyes to call for the waitress.

“One latte and a cup of black tea for him. A strong one,” he ordered and gave his attention to Jiyong after the waitress left. And Jiyong merely stood there with a furrowed brow not knowing exactly what was happening. “It’s Seungri’s favorite one. I thought you would like to know.” Daesung explained and Jiyong tilt his head slowly but still with narrowed eyes.

“So… you are looking for Seungri. Why?”

“I just want to see him,” he stammered.

“I took that as obvious,” Daesung said rolling his eyes. “I mean why. Why are you looking for him now? The last time I knew, Seungri kept repeating day and night between tears “He doesn’t want me there”… So you must understand my confusion.”

Jiyong cringed at the mention of Seungri and lowered his eyes feeling judged.

“Is this why you wanted to see me? To tell me these things?” he asked, trying to stop his hands from trembling and tightening his lips making a strong effort not to break down right there. Jiyong knew at that moment that hate might not be the worst feeling one can feel, but guilt. The first one is chosen but the second one is deserved.

“No, not really. I’m sorry,” Daesung apologized, “I just… it was hard. Those weeks were hard for me cause, I mean,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “I understand why you did what you did. But still, he was so broken. I had never seen him so broken and so destroyed before, so real.”

Jiyong chuckled a sad “I’m sorry,” that wasn’t meant for Daesung but for someone who wasn’t there, though Daesung’s voice continued talking ignoring his apologies.

“You should know, Jiyong. He talked those weeks about things that could make your skin freeze… I almost thought “Well that’s it. I lost him”. But then, three weeks later he woke up one morning and woke me up. “I’m tired” he said but looked everything but tired. In fact he looked more alive than ever.  And then I understood, he wasn’t tired of living but tired of crying and mourning and being reduced to a bundle of whines hidden inside a room… Why are you smiling?” exclaimed Daesung suddenly.

“I said the same thing once to him. One night, I said I was tired and he sang for me.”

“Ok?” Daesung lifted one of his eyebrows, embarrassed. “Well I didn’t sing for him though. He kind of did everything by his own. You know at first I really hated you, but now I’m not sure anymore, I’m, if anything, thankful with you.”

“Thankful?”

Daesung nodded and looked at the waitress that came to serve their orders. When she left Daesung gave her a polite smile before continuing talking.

“I always tried to convince him to leave that sickening life he chose as “his only option”.” Daesung hissed and looked annoyed. “I really hated looking at him, always treated like a supplanter, alone, disappointed, avoiding his own problems by solving other people one’s. But he never really listened at me when I told him to leave, to do something for him for once in his life. And then you came and, who else could convince him to stop, to break and to leave his “so called life” for once? I really was scared you would drag him with you, but… you did not. And I’m thankful, Jiyong. I still think you could have chosen a kinder way to do things, but you freed him from you, you let him face his own problems by his own without excusing his time with “Jiyong’s sadness, or Jiyong’s problems”. You said leave and he did left. He asked me to cancel his contract as a supplanter the next day.”

“He did? I’m glad. But to what cost?” Jiyong asked, saddened. “If only he had understood me or if only I had been wiser or better at expressing myself that day. The way he begged to stay… I almost, almost gave up.” He chuckled and took a sip of his black tea, widening his eyes at the nice taste. “I still think I did things wrong.” Jiyong cried out and took a deep breath, “But I… You know what hurt me the most? It wasn’t seeing him leave. It was before I even told him to leave. The fact I knew nothing about him, what he wanted? What he aspired for? That hurt me! And it wasn’t because I didn’t ask, because I asked. I ing asked, Daesung! He simply seemed to have stopped aspiring. And his only wish was staying inside that house by my side. You know how revolting that was? I wanted him to be proud of himself, to suffer, to cry, to brake, to aspire… I really, for the first time wanted to erase that stupid smile over his face that said, “Everything is fine” when it wasn’t. He wasn’t fine! He was so abysmal, unknown. I suddenly recognized that I knew nothing about him but what he let me see, what I needed or he thought I needed to see.”

“But I don’t know anymore. Cause because of what I did I can’t… I can’t just ask him if I can return to him. Because I can’t bear the idea that I just lost him or the opportunity to know him, or the only chance I had to be… with him. Maybe I’m greedy, Daesung. Maybe I’m ing selfish for asking for this. But I just, as stupidly as it sounds, know that I do love him and I can’t help it and I want him back with me. I want… I want to ing crumble him if that’s necessary but with me, him with me. And that him to be complete, real. I don't care if he cries everynight or if he is scared of clouds, or if he dreams of having kids. If he hates it when I complain about everything, if he gets tired of waking me up, if he... draws me when I'm sleeping." Jiyong said smiling tenderly. "But I want to know.... I wanted to know.”

And Daesung leant forward and stopped drinking, stopped even breathing. His eyes had something, maybe faith in them.

“Just promise me something, Jiyong. And I will help you. I will help you as much as I can.”

“What?” Jiyong asked already nodding; faithful.

“If you see him, if you see him and he is happy and if he found happiness, one that doesn’t involve you and require you in his life. Please don’t destroy that from him. Just, don’t. Because I tell you, he is better, he is someone new and I, I am scared of what your presence can do to him. Please.”

“I promise,” said Jiyong and the weight of that promise stabbed him right in his chest. “If he found happiness that doesn’t involve you in his life” he closed his eyes and vowed, to him and to Daesung trying to ignore how terrible that reality looked. “I promise.”

“I’m not sure where he is now. I mean he found a new job two months ago. He travels to different countries; he works for an ORG and is in charge, well not in charge, for now he is still learning, but he will be soon in charge of regulating inter-country adoptions. Kind of the best job for him, isn’t it? You should have seen his face the first time he returned from one of his trips. He was beaming! He met the kids there and then contacted the families here and he had to supervise if the families were appropriate and could actually take care of the kids. He gets paid less than before, but he is… looks satisfied. The last time I called him he was going to Vietnam. I don’t know if he already came back.”

“Vietnam? Inter-country adoptions?” asked a dumbfounded Jiyong with a bright smile in his face. “It hears as the best job for him.”

“I thought the same. You know Seungri. If he does something, he does something. So now I’m trying to get accustomed to the fact he doesn’t need me as much as before. So now I’m studying again.” Daesung shrugged and draw a silly smile.

“Congratulations,”

“Thank you. In fact I should be going now. So…” he took out a piece of paper and wrote something and then gave it to Jiyong. “That’s his address. He never answers the phone or can’t because. God! It’s expensive to call from another country! So he kind of gave up and cancelled his number. Why don’t you go there? Maybe he already returned.”

“I will. I really will. Thank you, Daesung”

Daesung only nodded and stood up. He squeezed one of Jiyong’s shoulders while leaving and smiled at Jiyong with complicity.

“If anything. I was never here,” he joked and left.

I'm sorry for not been able to update as regularly as I wish. This semester is killing me and therefore, killing this story... ='( Please, wait for me? neh? 

Thank you to my new subscribers: lulu21, queenkiz, KingdomofSilence, Anastasia1990, KaralyDuFlumage. 

And please, do tell me how are you finding the story so far. I read every single comment and I'm so thankful for your sincere opinions. They are writer's only food. I need food to survive!!! ^^