ain't even grey
(x)

When Daehyun was a child, he used to stop and bow whenever he passed by a funeral service. It was a practice his mother had instilled in him, flicking his forehead gently and chiding him for disrespecting the procession. It's inconsiderate, his mother would say as she uncurled her fingers from his collar, put yourself in the shoes of those who are grieving. Thus, Daehyun would mourn for a moment on the pavement while the bells rung past him along the ebony road, before running off to the playground.

He was a child; he couldn't be blamed for not getting it and failing to put himself in their places. Even if he matured, he wouldn't be able to understand a fraction of their pain. Sure, when he grew up, he bemoaned more understandingly the loss of a person. But every deceased in the funerals he passed weren't simply nameless persons. They were grandparents, fathers, mothers, siblings, children, lovers, friends; they were more than just another human being.

Daehyun remembers the windy Wednesday that a black coffin with the photo of a smiling man was carried past him. Daehyun knew that man, albeit just barely; he was the father of three who lived down the street and had gotten into a car accident. Daehyun paused in his steps and hung his head low as footsteps and a dreary hymn scraped at his ears. What about tomorrow? The hysterical wail of a middle-aged woman had punctured the silence wafting in his mind. He had thought then indeed, what were in store for the days after?

There were many things that could have been done tomorrow for that man, that the man wanted to do with his loved ones. Perhaps on Thursday, he had planned to visit a record shop to buy an album he used to listen to in his high school days. Maybe on Friday, he wanted to bring his family out to the theme park. On Saturday, he could have arranged a surprise for his wife to celebrate their marriage anniversary.

You promised me! The piercing cry tore at his ribs as he looked to the small, teary-eyed girl amidst the throng of black. He envisioned her peeling off a sticky note on the fridge with next Sunday's date and the address of a carnival messily scrawled above. He imagined the family trudging at the front sitting at the dining table with an empty chair.

There was so much more to that man who was now gone. It wasn't just the endless possibilities that were ripped away at that one moment and thus forevermore, it was the memories that would follow those he had left behind. Today, maybe a colleague down at his office made two cups of coffee instead of one, or the cook at a ramyun store that man constantly frequented closed his shop a little later in wait for him.

That man had a past, a present and a future. In a split second, everything had turned into the past. It was like an abrupt termination, the sudden non-existence of an entity so complex that left only reminiscences and the painful inconceivability of creating new ones.

It had been then that Daehyun begun to cry, sprinting towards his house and burying his face into his mother's chest the moment she swung the door open. He had slept with his mother that night, her assuring him that none of his other eleven-year-old friends would know about it. You have to grow up one day, she had whispered as he was falling asleep. No one lasts forever, Daehyun.

It chilled him to know the actual magnitude the impact of a death had. As a passer-by, he couldn't hope to comprehend the depth of a life that had escaped through the grasps of so many. Some hands clenched, others desperately clutching to nothing as the hours ticked and the dirged trailed along.

He knew he would experience the agony of losing a loved one one day. It was inevitable as his mother had said. He just never knew he would have to face it so early.

"We are gathered here today to honour the life and memory of Yoo Youngjae."

The world has stopped since three days ago. The breath hitched in Daehyun's throat rises but the delirious urge to cry isn't the only thing needed to weep, water is needed as well. The abundance of his tears are burned into the skin of his cheeks and the side of his lips. He can't hear anything that anyone around him or on the podium is saying; none of the eulogies are making sense. As selfish and insensitive as it sounds, Daehyun believes that no one out of this entire church had known Youngjae like he did.

His head is empty. It's strange how mourning works; it seems helpful to momentarily forget, but the memories flood back a thousand times harder once he remembers. He doesn't mind letting his future self suffer though, because right now, thinking of Youngjae is much too painful than anything he can imagine. If he dies from it later, it doesn't matter as he wouldn't have been able to take the agony in its original state.

Grief is an incomprehensible thing; the pain is nothing like any physical wound, but it mangles every single fibre of his body. The feeling lasts like waves crashing onto shores, receding to put him off guard then hitting again sadistically. It comes always with remorse, self-hate and the tormenting inability to stop fabricating what ifs.

The lights are too bright. He hears Youngjae's breathing fade and his chest falling for the last time under his distraught grip.

I never thought I'd go like this, Daehyun.

"Please rise."

The people around him stand. Daehyun continues to stare at the floor for a moment, before he tugs himself off his seat.

--

They had met in the tenth grade of high school, amidst the blazing summer heat of a soccer game. Daehyun knew Youngjae who was three classes above him, though not personally. Wherever Yoo Youngjae went, he brought along rumours. He was a terrible kid in terms of conduct, constantly cutting class despite repeated warnings, but fared well in exams.

He heard tons of gossip regarding Youngjae and the bizarre fact that he kept getting away with his bad behaviour. Some said he was a rich kid whose parents invested heftily in the school, thus his immunity. Others spread that he was the son of the headmaster as he never needed to hand in forms, while a few went further and speculated that he was the child of the principal's affair.

No one knew for sure, no matter how many claimed (and subsequently failed to dish out concrete evidence). Youngjae was an enigma to many, and combined with his smart mouth, he was the kind of person who was either loved or hated by someone.

Daehyun only showed up that day because Jongup begged him to. He'd been aiming to polish his soccer skills to impress the girls at the upcoming tryouts. Apparently, no matter the fact that Jongup and Youngjae were good friends, their friendship was not a guarantee that Youngjae would not strangle him if they were practicing one-on-one.

"Moon Jongup, I'm going to say this one last time. Your goal is that side." Daehyun watched as Youngjae rolled his eyes, Jongup stopping in his embarrassing dribble and turning around sheepishly. They were a funny pair and Youngjae didn't seem to be that much of a complicated, mystifying kid as everyone warned him.

"I don't know how he thinks he'll be able to make it onto the team," Youngjae mumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose. Daehyun grinned, awkwardly nudging him in the arm. "Don't be so harsh on him. Who knows? He may get the hang of it before the tryouts."

"It's in two weeks," Youngjae deadpanned. "You and I both know he won't make it even if he signed up to be the waterboy." Daehyun laughed to which Youngjae scoffed with a small smile. Youngjae was awfully gaunt for a boy their age in spite of his powerful kicks. It was stereotypical but he didn't seem much like the heir of some huge company that could buy out the school.

"Why'd you let him drag you here?" They settled down on the bench, watching as Jongup ran helplessly after the rolling ball. Daehyun shrugged, retrieving his water bottle and gulping it down. "I had nothing better to do. No money to go to the arcade so Jongup's the only source of entertainment left."

Youngjae chortled, slapping his hand against the seat. He picked up his own bottle and Daehyun frowned to see the amount of scratch marks and dirt on the surface. Its tip was frayed, probably due to excess biting. "Our level just got issued our first project. I wouldn't call that nothing."

"I'm not a homework type of person," Daehyun murmured, digging the tip of his shoe into the grass. "That's not hard to guess since you're Jongup's friend," Youngjae teased and Daehyun chuckled. "Aren't you his friend, too?"

"No. I just pity him."

Youngjae had a unique sense of humour and a tongue that would probably make him seem like an if people heard only what he spoke and not what he did. He agreed to coach Jongup, no matter how horrible he was at soccer, and worried for him whenever he messed up and fell.

They went back home together that day, awkwardness simmering into nothingness as their chatterbox mouths kept the space between them lively. He decided that he liked Youngjae; he was an interesting boy.

"You'll turn up for the next practice?" Youngjae asked, kicking his heels against the pavement while they stood outside Daehyun's apartment complex. Daehyun grinned, sending him a thumbs up as he darted into his house.

"Why not?"

--

Over a short span of a few months, Daehyun learnt a lot of things about Youngjae. He often stayed back after school, loitering in the canteen with some of his friends and sometimes alone. He would do random things like origami, basketball and even paint; it simply depended on his mood for the day. He never let Daehyun walk him back home and made sure Daehyun went into his block before disappearing.

Youngjae was a mystery that Daehyun found himself unexplainably inclined to. A part of him wanted to unravel him while the other enjoyed Youngjae's presence. Even after Jongup's practices ended miserably, they still kept in touch. Daehyun never asked him personal questions, however. If Youngjae was such a conundrum to the school population, it was evident he didn't tell just anyone about himself. As time passed, he spent more and more of his time with Youngjae, going home late just so he could accompany Youngjae in school.

Youngjae did the most peculiar things. He would sit cross-legged in the niche of a school pillar when it started to rain, just barely covered (drizzle falling onto his knees), and watch the scenery. A few times Daehyun had pointed out that Youngjae wouldn't be able to get out dry when the rain got too heavy, but Youngjae had retorted that he didn't want to. Maybe it was the fact that Youngjae built a home out of a place so small and so unfitting that made Daehyun bring an umbrella with him constantly, just so he could shelter Youngjae out when it got late and the rain still hadn't let up.

Amidst the commotion of sport practices, Youngjae would lie down by the side of the field and gaze up at the clouds, ignoring everything happening around him. Youngjae had told Daehyun once, when he jogged over from volleyball practice and laid down beside the boy, that his favourite time of the day was when dawn and dusk couldn't be differentiated.

"Is that why you reach school so early?" Daehyun had asked, shifting just a bit closer to Youngjae. The yells from the rugby team infiltrated their senses, but Youngjae kept his eyes on the sky.

"Yeah. It's nice, don't you think? That moment where everything fuses and you can see both the sun and the moon, and midnight blue cracks to let red bleed through," Youngjae hummed. This was how Youngjae usually spoke, as though he wore a pair of glasses that made him see the world from a whole new perspective.

"How about you? Why do you come so early?" Daehyun stilled slightly at the question. In all honesty, the reason why he peeled his eyes open an hour earlier was Youngjae. He liked coming to school and seeing Youngjae lying on the benches at the end of the empty canteen, his eyes reflecting the colours of the sky.

As crazy as it sounded, it felt intimate. He wanted to be second to arrive so he would be the first to find Youngjae while he laid in darkness, blending into black. Why, he didn't know, but he did know he wanted to.

Daehyun shrugged. "I'm an early riser?" A couple of rugby players ran past, casting them confounded looks as they continued laying down in the hot sun. The deep voice of Daehyun's volleyball captain, Yongguk, had Daehyun scrambling to his feet and darting back to the court.

Youngjae laughed.

--

He's not a bad kid, Daehyun had thought when he found Youngjae in the hallway, a couple of teachers surrounding him intimidatingly. They probably didn't mean to give off that feeling but it just looked that way, with Youngjae's scrawny frame withering in their shadows. Youngjae's face, however, was scrunched up in defiance despite how weak he looked. His lower lip was jutting out and his fists had been clenched, standing his ground adamantly.

"Youngjae," he breathed and stepped in front of the boy, taking a protective stance. It became second nature to defend Youngjae as though he was a part of him, even though he clearly did not need it. "What's going on?"

"Daehyun," the teacher cut in wearily before Youngjae could say anything. "We are in the middle of dealing with Youngjae's failing attendance rate. This is a private conversation." She pointedly looked at Daehyun, who kept his gaze steady.

"You don't understand him," Daehyun blurted, although he had no idea what he meant by that statement. That could barely justify Youngjae's poor conduct. The teacher shut her eyes, plainly exhausted.

"No, it's good that he's here." The headmaster stepped in, placing a hand on Daehyun's arm. "Youngjae, you may go. Daehyun, would you mind if I talk to you for a while?"

The hostility weaved into the creases of his eyebrows faded into confusion as he was lead away. He wasn't a tardy kid so whatever the discipline master wanted to say evidently revolved around Youngjae.

"Daehyun," the tall man started, the student crowd parting to let them pass. "It seems like you are close to Youngjae." Daehyun did not respond, searching the man's eyes for what he wanted.

"I'm sure you know about Youngjae's... wayward behaviour." He gestured vaguely and Daehyun nodded, urging him to go on. "I'm also sure you know that it's not very healthy, not just for the school but for himself. If this continues, we may have to expel him."

He stopped in his tracks outside his office, Daehyun abruptly halting as well. Expel? "We hope such a thing won't have to happen, but our methods of intervention have not been successful." He turned to Daehyun, expression somber. "As a friend of Youngjae, I believe you know what would be best for him. If you could lend us a helping hand and try to get Youngjae back on track, we would be very grateful."

The headmaster patted Daehyun on the shoulder, spinning on his heels and heading into the room. Daehyun stared hard at the mahogany door, before walking back to where Youngjae was. He knew about the attitude Youngjae had towards school, heck, everyone knew. He never bothered to meddle because that was the way Youngjae was. But now, he was finally taking into consideration the possible consequences.

"Did I get you into trouble?" Youngjae's voice was laced with worry as he gripped Daehyun, face apologetic and remorseful. Daehyun shook his head and they sat with one another for a while, basking in the silence. I could lose you, Daehyun thought as he picked up his backpack and angled his chin towards the gates.

They walked quietly, none of them saying a word. The weight of the discipline master's words sat heavily on his head as their steps fell in sync. Did he understand Youngjae? He knew nothing about why he did what he did. Yet somehow, with that short conversation, he'd felt panic and dread so strongly for the first time. He was so attached to a boy who he barely knew.

They stood outside Daehyun's apartment, looking at one another. "Thanks." Youngjae shuffled his feet, tugging at his straps. Daehyun scrutinised him unconsciously and Youngjae stared back with a sigh. "You didn't have to do that for me."

"It's nothing. You're my friend," Daehyun insisted, heel tapping against the pavement. Youngjae continued looking at him, eyes half-lidded and tired. They spent a few more minutes in silence, before Daehyun ran a hand down his neck. "I guess I'll get going then."

"Wait," Youngjae mumbled, hand clutching onto the edge of Daehyun's uniform. "Let me tell you a secret."

Daehyun furrowed his eyebrows, leaning closer. Youngjae fluttered his eyelids slowly, gaze locking with Daehyun's.

"I'm an orphan."

Daehyun blinked, barely managing to process Youngjae's words, before his face melted into agony. The hurt clawed at his chest as he took in the boy's bony frame. This was why Youngjae never talked about his family, avoiding Daehyun's questions about what he ate for dinner and if he would be going overseas the coming holiday.

Everyone had been so wrong about Youngjae. The whole school thought he was some stuck-up, elite kid who evaded the system thanks to his power. He'd heard people wish to be as privileged as Youngjae was. If only they knew.

Daehyun lived comfortably under the care of both his parents. While Daehyun slept in his parents' bed when he had nightmares, Youngjae probably had to brave through them by himself. While Daehyun complained about the vegetables in his plate at the dining table, Youngjae sat there alone without anyone to nag at him.

"Youngjae, I'm so sorry-"

"No, don't be," Youngjae interrupted as he shifted his weight from one leg to another. His face was wrought with dejection. "Don't look at me like that. That's how everyone looks at me when they find out—with pity."

Daehyun grabbed onto Youngjae, earnestly looking into his eyes. "It's not pity," he wheezed as his heart scrunched up when Youngjae's stare fixated on his shoes. How could he have left Youngjae all on his own? "It's pain. It's anger. It's self-hate."

Youngjae blinked at him and stepped back just as Daehyun reached out to pull him into his arms. "Don't blame yourself, Daehyun. That's completely illogical. It's like wishing that all this never happened to me."

The grip on Daehyun's shirt loosened and Youngjae swiveled on his feet, heading back the way they came from.

"Where are you going?" Daehyun called out, watching Youngjae's form shrink. Why was he walking back to school?

"Home," Youngjae yelled back. Daehyun froze, jaw slackening as the distance between Youngjae and him grew. Youngjae lived in the school dorm.

He'd been walking me back home all this time.

--

Daehyun worked hard for the next few months and managed to bump himself up to Youngjae's class. It was difficult for someone like him, who wasn't academically inclined, but the fear of losing Youngjae spurred him to study hard. He needed to be in the same class as Youngjae to keep him in check.

Daehyun also realised, some time within the days of worrying, that he liked Youngjae more than a friend should. It was a weird conclusion to come to, especially since he'd only ever been infatuated with a few pretty girls. When it came to Youngjae, it felt more like he was loving an entity, instead of a boy.

"Where the hell are you?" Daehyun breathed angrily over the phone, head ducked under the desk as the teacher rambled on at the front. The rain pounded down heavily, patter coursing past his eardrums. He heard Youngjae sigh in irritation, muttering, "Where else would I be?"

"Don't go anywhere," Daehyun spat as Youngjae countered spitefully, "Wasn't planning to." Daehyun stole his chance when the teacher turned and slipped out from the back door with an umbrella, sprinting off to the corner of their campus. As expected, he found pale kneecaps sticking out from the wall, the rain nearly obscuring Youngjae's presence.

He opened the umbrella, making sure to stand a good distance away so the rain didn't splash against the canopy onto Youngjae. Youngjae stared up at him, brows crossed.

"What are you waiting for?" Daehyun asked roughly. Youngjae narrowed his eyes and went back to gazing at the downpour. "I'm not going."

"Are you serious?" Daehyun scoffed, glaring at the boy. Youngjae ignored him, tapping his fingers to the beat of the raindrops. If it was one thing Daehyun knew about Youngjae, it was that the other never backed down. Daehyun bored his eyes through Youngjae's head, and closed his umbrella without warning. The rain pelted him mercilessly as Youngjae rotated his head, lips parted in shock.

"What are you doing?" Youngjae hissed, pulling Daehyun hastily towards him. The nook in the wall was too small for the both of them, and thus, it did barely anything to shield Daehyun from the vigorous rain. Youngjae scrambled for Daehyun's umbrella, but Daehyun held it out of his reach as he continued glaring at the other boy.

"Fine, fine! I'll go to class!" Youngjae yelped, expression pleading and frantic. Daehyun nodded in triumph, opening the umbrella as he tugged Youngjae out of the hole and escorted him into the building. Once they made it in, Youngjae smacked Daehyun on the head. Water dripped from Daehyun's drenched figure, pooling around his feet.

"You're so stupid!" Youngjae shrieked, hurriedly shedding his blazer. He draped it over Daehyun's head and toweled his hair dry. "Don't do that ever again," Youngjae warned, voice imbued with venom.

"Stupid?" Daehyun snapped in incredulity, grabbing Youngjae's wrist. "I'm doing this for you! Do you think I'm doing this for fun?"

"You're becoming like them," Youngjae sneered, hauling his arm back. "You're trying to control me. You used to let me be free. Now you're breathing down my neck at my every move. I hate it. I hate you."

Daehyun gaped at him, the words stinging him more than he'd like to admit. "You're being childish," Daehyun snarled and gripped Youngjae by his forearms, the other struggling as they shoved one another. "Let go of me!" Youngjae hollered, teeth gritted.

"Youngjae, stop it! I don't want to lose you, you idiot!" Daehyun roared and Youngjae stopped wrestling in his hold. His face contorted in bewilderment as rain water rolled down Daehyun's face, his collar completely soaked. The fury in Daehyun's eyes were hard to miss as he tightened his clutch on Youngjae. "Do you really want to get expelled? Do you think it'll do you any good?"

Daehyun let go of Youngjae, frustratedly yelling at nothing in particular. "God, do you even think about me?" He barked, nails digging into his palm. "Do you ever stop to consider that oh, maybe, just maybe if I got kicked out of school, that dumb Jung Daehyun who worked so ing hard to get to my class, just so he could keep an eye on me, will be so goddamn upset?"

"You know what, I don't care anymore. Just go do whatever you want," Daehyun growled, storming away. The patter of footsteps contrasting with his soggy steps caught up to him and Youngjae wrapped his arms around his shoulders, nuzzling his nose into the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry."

They ended up in an empty classroom, Daehyun standing in front of the fan to air Youngjae's damp blazer. "You're going to catch a cold," Youngjae murmured, reaching out to switch it off only to have Daehyun slap his hand away. When it dried, Daehyun tossed it to Youngjae, still giving him the silent treatment for his previous escapade.

"Honestly," Youngjae began, hand tracing the seams of his shirt. "I do want to get expelled. It just... makes me irked to know that if I was a normal kid, I would have been out of this school a long time ago. I feel like a charity case."

Youngjae climbed onto the teacher's table, lying down and shutting his eyes. "It'll always follow me as an excuse to whatever wrong I do. I'm that broken kid with a tragic backstory so people should let up on me. I don't like it, Daehyun."

Daehyun turned to gaze at him after he made sure Youngjae's eyes were closed, unsure of how to respond.

"I'm sorry. I've been selfish. I do care for you, Daehyun," Youngjae says, chest rising and falling steadily. "I can probably say you're the person I love most in my life right now." Daehyun's breath stopped in his throat, his heart palpitating at a wild ferocity. He strode towards Youngjae, hesitantly putting a hand on Youngjae's jaw. The way Youngjae's eyes shot open in perplexity told Daehyun he didn't mean it in the way Daehyun hoped for.

"Then do it. At least until you graduate from high school. Do it for me, please, because I don't want to lose you," Daehyun whispered, daringly pressing his lips against Youngjae's forehead. Youngjae exhaled, closing his eyes again.

"Okay."

--

True to his word, Youngjae stopped skipping class. He didn't make an effort to listen in class but Daehyun was contented seeing him at least present for lessons. When they graduated, Daehyun went to college but Youngjae didn't, applying for a job at a local bookstore and spending his free time volunteering at a home for troubled teens.

They decided to live together, however, and bought a cheap apartment on the outskirts of town with the help of Daehyun's parents. It was tough to commute from home to his university, but it was nice to wake up and see Youngjae in the opposite bed, dribble lining his chin. He'd been plagued with the fear of never seeing Youngjae again when they left high school, but thankfully, Youngjae was more than willing to share a room with Daehyun. He hadn't expected it—Youngjae was a free soul that didn't like being chained. Daehyun meant enough to Youngjae to keep him in one place.

"Youngjae," he spoke, hurrying over to where Youngjae was standing under the store's awning. Picking Youngjae up from work after his lessons became habitual despite the fact that Youngjae could walk home himself. It was just one of the things they did to spend time with one another under the difficulty of their conflicting schedules.

The rain splattered against their umbrella, Daehyun fidgeting to shift his backpack into a more comfortable position. Over the years, he'd come to love the rain because of Youngjae, no matter how much of a hindrance it was.

"Hey." Daehyun hummed in reply, walking discreetly closer to Youngjae's side and putting an arm around his waist. "Do you ever wonder why the rain falls from the sky?" Youngjae asked.

Daehyun raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "Do you want a scientific explanation or would you rather tell me what's your interpretation?" Youngjae's mind worked in the most breathtaking and extraodinary ways, piecing together the world like it was the remnants of thousands of paintings. His whole thinking process seemed to stem from an otherworldly essence.

"You're no fun," Youngjae muttered, looking up at the rain running down the transparent canopy. "It's weird. We always say we want to touch the skies. Do you think that maybe the rain wants to touch the earth?"

Daehyun bobbed his head, enjoying Youngjae's warmth as the cold encircled them. "You're saying they want to leave the sky, just like how we want to leave the earth?"

"Yeah. Maybe, as we stand here, we can only see the ceaseless expanse of blue." He gesticulated to the overcast sky, lost in thought, weaving out a poem unintentionally. "But if we were to stand among the clouds where the rain had been, we'd see that earth is a huge canvas of colours."

"The grass always looks greener on the other side," Daehyun stated, fingers drumming a tune against Youngjae's hip. He turned his head to gaze at Youngjae, admiring the way his eyelashes batted against his eye circles. "We should appreciate what we have, shouldn't we?" Daehyun said softly, his lips unconsciously.

It was enough just having Youngjae by his side. He could worry another day about losing Youngjae to another person. But for now, he was contented having Youngjae in his hold and his chest bursting from unspoken words.

"Yeah, we should."

--

The sand beneath their feet had been cooling with the early evening breeze tumbling through the atmosphere. It had been a few weeks before the incident happened. To think such a short while ago, they'd been together as though nothing would ever go wrong...

Daehyun emerged from the light waves, sloshing water and golden grains as he strolled towards Youngjae. The beach was relatively empty that day as it was a weekday and Daehyun had cut class to join Youngjae on his off day.

"What are you reading?" Daehyun asked, plopping himself onto the ground beside Youngjae. He wiped his wet hands on Youngjae's thigh, prying the book off his face. Youngjae snatched the book away jokingly, swatting a soaked Daehyun away.

"The Five People You Meet In Heaven," he answered, throwing Daehyun a towel. His strong gaze told Daehyun that he had been musing over something seriously while Daehyun was swimming. Daehyun readied himself for a strange insight or a weird question.

"What would you do if I died right now?" Youngjae asked, blinking sincerely. Daehyun's brows immediately knitted together in annoyance as he hushed, "Don't say that." It was funny how he lowered his voice as though trying to hide from some powerful entity that could hear their conversation.

"It's just a question," Youngjae brushed off, crossing his arms beneath his head. "One of the volunteers down at the boys' home read the fable The Ant and the Grasshopper to the children, trying to inspire them to work hard. All it made me feel was that I'd rather be the grasshopper than the ant."

Daehyun moved, resting his head on Youngjae's stomach. He smiled when Youngjae didn't push him away for wetting his shirt. "I don't mind dying young if it means I've lived a happy life," Youngjae muttered, fingers threading gently through Daehyun's hair. "I don't know why we're all so caught up saving for the future to keep death away when we know it's going to come sooner or later."

"Well," Daehyun inhaled, slightly depressed at Youngjae's remark. "When you have people you love, you want to prolong life so you can spend more time with them." He cleared his throat, catching Youngjae's hand and interlocking their fingers. A pair of kids bolted past them, screaming in joy.

Youngjae hummed in understanding. "Hey, Daehyun. Have you heard of offerings? People burn paper objects like houses and cars for the dead so they will have all the luxuries they never got," Youngjae said, eyes b with the sunlight. Daehyun turned to him and then frowned. "Do you want that?" The topic made him uncomfortable, but Youngjae liked talking about such things most people considered taboo.

"No," Youngjae breathed out after a long moment. "When I'm gone, I want to be laid face up in a boat of roses and sunk in the river. It'll be a metaphor—I want the heavens to know that I've lead a good life down on earth, despite whatever that has happened to me."

"It's because of me, right?" Daehyun cheekily pressed and Youngjae scoffed, letting go of his hand and flinging his arms out. Youngjae veered his gaze towards Daehyun, wind ruffling his hair. "Hey, promise me you'll do that for me. Wrap me up in satin and send me away with the words of a love song," Youngjae paused, shaking his head. "If sadly, I happen to only have you after I die."

Daehyun shoved him, their laughter intertwining like the bursts of colours on a palette.

"Please. I'm older than you. I'll die first."

--

Daehyun had known, since the very start, that someone eventually falling for Youngjae was unavoidable. Someone as special as Youngjae was bound to attract another person, and Daehyun had, in his efforts to maintain their friendship, lost out on the chance of claiming Youngjae as his. It wasn't as though Youngjae would become his boyfriend if he had confessed anyway, since Youngjae distinctly did not reciprocate his feelings.

That still didn't make the jealousy any less when Youngjae first brought back Junhong to their home. He was a lanky seventeen-year-old that towered over Youngjae with his head hung low. He was quiet and stiff, nodding periodically whenever Youngjae said something and flushing when Youngjae laughed at his remarks. Youngjae had talked about Junhong a couple of times, confiding his worry about Junhong aging out so soon without being adopted.

Every touch had made Daehyun boil with anger. Junhong was clearly infatuated with Youngjae; one of the volunteers, Himchan, had told him when he visited Youngjae during his volunteer work that Youngjae was the first person Junhong ever opened up to. Himchan had even went as far as to say that Junhong always kept to himself but whenever Youngjae was around, he stuck to him like a bee to honey.

The affection Youngjae showered on Junhong made him want to hurl. Youngjae didn't edge away when Junhong stood unnecessarily close to him, whispering into his ear. Youngjae let him share the same chair though there was obviously not enough space for the both of them. Youngjae even fed Junhong when he was hesitant on eating any fruits other than the cherry tomatoes he was so ridiculously obsessed with.

"So, what do you think?" Youngjae had chimed excitedly once Junhong left, having tiptoed and patted Junhong on the head moments ago. Daehyun grunted, hoping it would ward Youngjae off as he grabbed his food and left the kitchen. Youngjae followed him insistently, prattling off.

"Maybe we can give him a place to stay for a while so he'd get used to being independent. What do you think, Daehyun?" Youngjae concluded his speech with a tinge of hope. Daehyun slammed his plate down on the coffee table, jaws clenched.

"Stop it."

Youngjae arched a brow. "Stop what?" Daehyun refused to meet his eyes as he switched on the television, leaning back into the couch.

"You're leading him on, you ," Daehyun spat, more spitefully than he'd intended. "You know what Junhong is. He'll get attached."

"Leading him on about what?" Youngjae retorted, standing as Daehyun again evaded eye contact. He stepped in front of Daehyun, blocking his view completely. "And what is Junhong?"

Daehyun stood up, looking at Youngjae with a disgruntled face. He gulped down the remaining of his dinner and stomped to the kitchen. "A kid with nothing."

He tossed his plate into the sink, washing his hands roughly. The guilt started eating at him; he had no right to talk about Junhong like that. He'd said it in a fit of anger and envy.

"Was that how you saw me when I told you I was orphaned?" A question pierced through his senses and Daehyun lifted his head to find Youngjae leaning against the door frame, hurt written all over his face though his voice remained detached. "No, have you always been seeing me like that?"

"God, Youngjae," Daehyun restrained a yell as he threw his hands up in the air. "No, I haven't. I have never. I didn't mean it that way."

"Then what way did you mean it?" Youngjae's eyes turned into slits. "Maybe you've been pitying me all this while. Maybe I should have never told you the truth."

"Youngjae," Daehyun breathed, hurriedly wiping his hand of the dish soap. A mess of poor coordination and the swelling urgency led him to walk forward without retracting his arm, knocking over their glass vase. He stepped on the smithereens in his haste, ruining the sole stalk of rose, but he continued pacing after Youngjae briskly. "Youngjae, wait!" Daehyun threw out his arm to catch Youngjae but he had already slammed open the door and ran downstairs. Daehyun shouted in exasperation, hand running forcefully through his hair.

He'd never felt so much regret in his life than then.

--

Daehyun can recall more than once having reached out for Youngjae and caught onto nothing. It'd happened several times back in high school, from playing catching to sprinting after Youngjae when he sneaked out of class. When they had graduated, he had, a couple of times, grabbed for Youngjae in his nightmares only to watch him fade to dust. There was once where he had gotten drunk and grasped at Youngjae, yearning to spin him around and kiss him ravenously, but held back when his remaining logic stopped him.

The feeling of having nothing (Youngjae) within the gaps of his fingers had constantly haunted throughout his life after he met Youngjae. In Youngjae's last moments, he'd tried once again to grab on to him, but failed to.

No, Youngjae, please.

Stories are stories for a reason, meant to be printed on books with a hard spine and for the readers to gasp while maintaining that margin of distance and unconsciously be grateful for the fact that whatever happened is fictional. Feeling anger, sadness, happiness, etc. for the characters is normal but over a few days, at most a few weeks, the emotions fade because in the end, everything stays put on the side of fantasy. Whether it's a huge-scale bombing or a sappy, tragic love story, nothing is real ultimately.

Maybe one of Daehyun's biggest mistakes was that he'd forgotten fiction was inspired by reality.

A bank heist. The robbers' car had barreled down into a subway station and crashed into a wall. There, they had shot at the roof and commanded for the small horde in the station to walk along the train tracks while they demanded to be let free in exchange for the hostages.

On that fateful day, Daehyun and Youngjae had been at a rural town, in that very station, waiting for a train to take them to the a war memorial site Youngjae wanted to go to.

In a world of seven billion people, it's easy to think it won't happen to me. What are the odds? a billion people. It may seem cold to think in such a way but it's natural. People are moulded to be used to simply reading about tragedies and disasters on the newspapers, stopping for a moment to pray and going about their own businesses.

Can Daehyun really blame himself for thinking why me? at that very moment? Or specifically, why Youngjae?

His heart had stopped when the perpetrators announced they would pick a "special" hostage to ensure the deal went smoothly, hand still interlocked with Youngjae's and eyes casting glances that reassured him everything would turn out fine. He resorted to using probability, one of the topics he remembers thumbing through while Youngjae folded paper airplanes, and counted on his shivering fingers a likelihood of 1/10.

Nine out of ten. Those were the chances Youngjae would be able to escape unharmed. And still Youngjae had been the unlucky one to be singled out. Daehyun's throat ran dry and he couldn't help but curse at whatever he learnt in school. It was a habit Youngjae had, to complain about the syllabus and argue that barely any of it could be applied in real life.

Daehyun screamed and instantaneously offered himself in exchange for Youngjae. It only seemed to spur on their kidnappers, grabbing Youngjae roughly by the neck and pounding him into the wall. Daehyun, by instinct, lunged out at them and gotten hit himself, thrown back in spite of his repeated attempts to save Youngjae. Seven against one. He stood no chance.

He should have died that day. Not Youngjae.

"Don't kill them," the words rang through his head incessantly as he trudged forward again, blood trickling down his nose. Youngjae was barely breathing at this point, eyes shut as his wheezes tormented Daehyun's soul. "Once we break our side of the deal, they're not gonna deliver."

It took a painstaking few hours before the police finally arrived, a small team of five carefully treading towards the armed robbers. Negotiations, insults thrown about, Daehyun wasn't sure what was happening as his attention was latched onto Youngjae's battered form against the wall.

"You can have him." They tugged Youngjae up, ing him towards them. Daehyun crawled as far as he could, blocked by the officers, and watched excruciatingly as Youngjae staggered towards them. They were so close to being reunited.

Just a few more steps. Five, four, three, two-

", they cornered us from the other end!" The burly man at the front flew into a rage the moment one of his subordinates scampered to him, venomously burning his gaze at them. He raised his gun.

Daehyun shrieked. A gunshot sound reverberated through the air. His hand flung outwards in a futile attempt to grab on to the boy he'd loved since high school. A loud thud followed and the flood of tears Daehyun had constrained to assure Youngjae everything would be alright came gushing from his eyes. He scrambled amidst the gunfire for Youngjae as the police lurched forward, trying to bring the shooting further from the civilians.

"No," Daehyun breathed, tears running down his face furiously. He tripped and just barely managed to grapple Youngjae into his embrace, cradling him frantically.

Nothing in the world could describe the feeling that had consumed him. Nothing at all.

"Youngjae," Daehyun choked, eyes wide and pants shallow. He shakily pressed his hand against Youngjae's wound, watching Youngjae's chest rise and fall weakly. "Youngjae," he wheezed again, begging everything out there in the world for the blood to stop flowing through his fingers. He bellowed for an ambulance, never taking his gaze off the man in his hold.

"You'll be okay," Daehyun deliriously spluttered, his eyes locked frenziedly on Youngjae's half-lidded ones. "You're gonna make it, Youngjae. You're gonna make it, okay? You're going to. I- I won't let you go. You can't leave me. You can't." All words, of no weight, came stumbling out of Daehyun's mouth like an endless mantra, along with his tears that pelted Youngjae's face like the rain he loved so much.

This isn't happening. This can't be happening.

"I-I never thought... I'd go... " Youngjae's whisper broke every rib in Daehyun's body, "... like this, D-Daehyun."

"Keep your eyes open, Youngjae," Daehyun begged, fingers grabbing Youngjae like he was his last lifeline. This couldn't be happening. This only took place in the movies they would watch together till midnight, mocking the horrid CGI while leaning against one another.

"Please. Please. I'll do anything you ask me to, okay?" Red trickled past Daehyun's hand as he clamped harder on Youngjae's chest, body violently convulsing. He was gripping onto anything he could possibly hold, as though desperately trying to pick up the pieces of a shattered vase. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. "Just... don't- don't quit on me, Youngjae. You can't. I can't live without you. Stay with me, Youngjae, stay with me!"

The scathing agony mangled Youngjae's face, though he managed out a small smile amidst Daehyun's hysterical chanting. There was so much more for them. Tomorrow, they were going to eat at the black bean noodle restaurant Daehyun had been so excited to go to. The day after that, Daehyun had planned to surprise Youngjae with the concert tickets of the band Youngjae liked so much. But the blood slipping through his fingers was enough to tell him that everything of the boy he'd worried more for than himself was falling from his grasp.

"T-Thank you, Daehyun. Y-You're... You're the best thing... that's ever h-happened to me. I... I love you."

Youngjae fought. Daehyun could tell he fought to keep breathing, choking heavily. He fought to keep his eyes open so he wouldn't tear his gaze away from Daehyun's wet eyes. Daehyun could barely decipher his own blabber as he hugged Youngjae, praying every god out there for a miracle. This was the face he stared at every night, admiring the plump lips, long lashes and just everything because it was Youngjae. This was the person he got worked up over endlessly over trivial matters such as whether he had eaten. This was the soul he'd come to love so deeply after so many years of gathering his puzzle pieces and putting them together. How could anyone find it in them to rip Youngjae away from him?

"You're going to make it, Youngjae. Y-You're going to. I love you. I love you so much, Youngjae, for god's sake! You can't leave me!"

Daehyun would give up everything he had, even his own life. Please, let Youngjae live.

Clearly, what he had wasn't enough.

--

Grief is unrelenting. It sticks like a disease, preying on the soul and leaving one breathless with the possibilities feeding on one's sanity. Mourners spend their lives thinking that maybe, if they had done this, it wouldn't have happened. Maybe, if they had done that, they could have avoided it. How does one cope with the knowledge of never knowing?

If I never met Youngjae, would he still be here?

They left the burial up to Daehyun since Youngjae didn't have a closest kin. He'd done his utmost best to fulfill Youngjae's wish, throwing out all his savings to make sure that Youngjae got what he wanted.

"Hey."

Daehyun doesn't turn to greet the source of the feeble voice, eyes still transfixed on the body before him. Junhong settles down on the grass patch beside him, staring down at Youngjae with a wry smile. Youngjae looks stunning in his white suit, lying in a boat b with only the reddest of roses. His skin is awfully pale, so Daehyun sheds his jacket and wraps it around Youngjae. It grazes the satin blanketing the boat, rocking it slightly.

"I'm guessing you loved him too."

Daehyun his head backwards, not making the effort to rotate it fully and meet Junhong's eyes. "Who didn't?" Daehyun answers, sounding less curt but instead exhausted. "I already beat up those who thought otherwise."

Junhong chuckles, feet brushing against the blades of green. He picks up a dandelion and whistles a soft tune, its petals drifting through the cold night air. "You know what I mean."

They sit in silence, wind blowing against their gaunt faces. The full moon casts a sympathetic glow over them. Junhong crawls over to the boat, focused on the man laying amidst the flowerbed of red.

"Give me thirty minutes." There's no please but the desperation in his voice resounds fully in Daehyun's ears. Daehyun nods stiffly, rising and turning on his heel.

"Hyung." The distraught quiver in Junhong's voice stabs Daehyun in the heart. Youngjae has left too many people behind.

--

"Thank you." Daehyun nearly misses the soft words Junhong utters as he passes, remnants of a feverish sob lingering on the tip of his tongue. He watches Junhong walk off, back slouched and shadow of a broken boy following behind. Daehyun kneels by Youngjae's side, grabbing at the fingers that had once brimmed with warmth.

The tears streak down his cheeks once again, Daehyun swallowing thickly, and he offers a watery smile to Youngjae.

"What am I going to do without you?" He breathes, laughter escaping his cracking lips. Daehyun receives no response. It's unimaginable, because he's too used to Youngjae's voice dancing past his ears. He's too used to Youngjae having answers to all of his questions (some asked simply because he liked hearing Youngjae speak). Nothing feels real.

How does it feel to lose the love of one's life? It's simply distraught put sadistically on repeat, strangling all breath but leaving just a bit left so he'll be alive to feel the overwhelming ache. He can't envision what it'll be when he reaches home and the memories come like a tidal wave, crashing along with the fragments of him. Everything hurts so badly.

Daehyun rests his face on Youngjae's stomach, hand clutching onto Youngjae's. He presses Youngjae's motionless fingers down, relishing in the memory of their interlinked hands.

"You know, I used to have a crush on you in high school. It was weird," Daehyun confesses. The wet warmth running down his face doesn't halt. "But I grew out of it." Daehyun lifts his head, gazing down at Youngjae with a small smile.

"And fell in love with you," Daehyun says, grinning as the tears obscure his vision. Youngjae looks absolutely beautiful even now. Daehyun traces Youngjae's features, from his long lashes to the skin right underneath his lower lip. He pokes Youngjae's forehead gently, asserting lightly, "I'm still in love with you."

"Idiot," Daehyun sighs, making a face jokingly. "You said we'd go to the jajangmyun shop together. Who am I going to go with now?"

The river currents sway against the soil, splashes delicate. He pulls out the two admission tickets, slipping them into Youngjae's pocket.

"When I was young, I was always scared of death. I thought of it as a thief who wanted to steal my parents from me," Daehyun relays, feeling the strands of Youngjae's hair. "Omma told me that he would one day have to come and cause me pain. I wouldn't be able to stop him from taking away the people I loved. She called it grief."

His smile breaks at this point, his fingers trembling against Youngjae's arm.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry for being so useless." Daehyun snivels, imagining Youngjae snickering at him for blubbering like a three-year-old. He shifts closer, burying his nose into Youngjae's chest as he sobs heftily.

The minutes tick past with every sigh and shiver, Daehyun refusing to take back his coat as he desperately savours the last of Youngjae's touch. The hours are interlocked with huge mess of regrets, reminisces, untimely laughs and heartbreaking wails. Daehyun recounts too many wrenching memories of their legs tangled together and their souls connected.

Youngjae can never be with him again. What's he supposed to do with his inadequate breaks where he spent sprinting to the bookstore to see Youngjae? What will happen to the two toothbrushes in their bathroom? What about Youngjae's bed, still ridden with Youngjae's scent and the recollections of them wrestling one another?

Youngjae's soul is imprinted into the recesses of their home, built for two. Their house is moulded for the both of them, Youngjae's 'X' marks on the switches because he can't tell which one is on and off and the mounts of green tea ice cream still stored in the fridge.

We've done so much together, but not enough.

The sight of luminance startles Daehyun as he raises his head, defeat washing over his face. He had spent the entire night talking to Youngjae about everything under the sun. If Daehyun could, he'll lie here forever with Youngjae. "It's your favourite time of the day," he says, holding Youngjae tightly. "It's also time to say goodbye."

Daehyun pushes the boat off the shore halfway, staring down at Youngjae. His face is gorgeous, mesmerising, all sorts of beautiful Daehyun will never be able to name.

"Am I ready?" Daehyun asks, chuckling to himself. "No, I'm not. I'll never be ready," he answers, reply directed towards the still boy surrounded by a canopy of flowers. He can't spend too long or else he'll miss Youngjae's favourite moment—the interweaving of night and day.

"I wrote a love song for you. I never planned on showing you but I hope it's good enough."

Daehyun's hand runs down Youngjae's face, caressing Youngjae's cold skin repeatedly. He leans downwards, heart somersaulting in his chest, and presses his lips against Youngjae's frosty ones. He's dreamt of this opportunity a million of times, just never like this.

I'm an idiot, a coward. I couldn't even say the words I love you.

Daehyun's tears brim at the edge of his eyes and he showers kisses all over Youngjae's delicate, peaceful face.

Tell me this is a joke.

"I love you," he whispers, kissing Youngjae one last time on the lips before pushing the boat outwards. The waves serenely carry the boat away, as though having waited patiently for Daehyun to say his last words.

It’s all a lie when I say that I can forget you.

The sunrise peeks above the horizon, chasing away the darkness enveloping Daehyun. He can't stop himself from bawling, sorrow wrecking his entire body. The sight of Youngjae drifting away has panic gradually assailing his despairing mind. Daehyun wades into the pond, breathing growing erratic. His suit turns wet and he briefly remembers Youngjae smacking him on the head, toweling his hair dry with his blazer.

"You ended work an hour earlier? Why didn't you go home first?"

"I wanted to wait for you."

"Youngjae," he calls out as the boat meanders further down the river. The water rises to his knees as he pushes against the tides harder, reaching out woefully. He recalls the glass fragments piercing into his foot as he staggers to the door, trying to catch up with Youngjae.

"Do you ever wonder what determines whether we meet one another?"

"Jongup? Alright, alright. I guess, fate?"

"But why us? Why you and me?"

"You know, sometimes, the reason behind it doesn't matter. What does is whether or not you're happy with it. Are you?"

"... Yes."

"Youngjae!" Daehyun screams, hands hysterically crashing against the currents. The river climbs to his waist but Daehyun already feels suffocated. "Come back," he pleads in a strained voice as the boat floats away. Daehyun falls to his knees, sobs destroying all remains of the walls he had put up. Youngjae's smile flickers in the darkness of his shut eyes. Everything is wrong without Youngjae by his side. "Please, Youngjae," Daehyun begs, choking on his howls.

"Thank you, Daehyun."

"Please."