[ and the boy in the woods wakes up to find himself trapped in darker versions of his dream. He isn’t too sure what is real and what isn’t anymore.]

--

“I’m all for doing this but why are we going out in the rain without an umbrella?”


Daehyun says when they’re standing in the middle of a quiet street and the rain is starting to pelt down like pins and needles on their skin. It looks ridiculous especially since Daehyun is shouting over the roar of the rain.


“Romance, Daehyun. Romance.” Himchan feels his heart thundering in his chest. 


“Just like in your cheesy chick flicks?”

“Just like in my cheesy chick flicks.” Himchan laughs, he tastes the earth in the rain and he sees Daehyun’s features like a blurred oil painting. They catch a cold after kissing in the rain and Himchan thinks it’s beautiful how there’s only one way down for the rain, how time is crystalised in one singular droplet and he thinks love is like that, and he wants them to go as beautifully as the paper flowers formed by the rain as it hits the hot ground.


Himchan writes about falling from the skies. 



--
Daehyun places the flowers on the grave and steps back to join Youngjae.


“Thanks for coming with me today.” Youngjae says for the umpteenth time.


“You know when my parents tried to pretend I didn’t exist at one period of time and I went to live with my grandmother? I always thought she was insane. She was a little senile at that time. But one night she came into my room and told me that if I ever fall in love, I should take him home to meet her.” Youngjae smiles and he’s talking in the same matter of fact way.


“There was a thing I used to believe when I was younger, if you wanted time to rewind you just have to walk backwards for really long and it would happen. I did that but the funeral happened anyway. But if we had met in high school I probably would’ve told her I had a crush on you.” 


And Daehyun stares wide-eyed at him before breaking into a self-satisfied grin. 


“But we’re not in high school,” Youngjae snaps and Daehyun’s grin disappears, “who on earth would have a crush on you that’s insane.”


“I’m sure. That’s not what you’d say when I take you to that dim sum restaurant I told you about.” Daehyun is smug and Youngjae guffaws because seriously? You’re still thinking of food at my grandmother’s grave?


They go to the restaurant later and they order more food than they can swallow but they still manage somehow. Daehyun gives the last piece of dumpling in the basket to Youngjae and he thinks maybe that means something. It means something when he glances at Youngjae every few seconds from across the table. It means something when he notices the colour of his eyes. And Daehyun wishes he were young again and he was back at his old high school. It could’ve been a sunny day and he could’ve wanted to explore a little more, take the bus the opposite direction. They could’ve met. Daehyun would try and hide his accent while introducing himself and Youngjae would tell him that it’s no point trying at all because he sounds ridiculous. 


“Did you know stag beetles mate for life?” Daehyun would’ve said because he had read that somewhere and he’s nervous around new people and seeing Youngjae sends strange shivers up and down his system. And Youngjae would’ve laughed, that bright silvery laugh and Daehyun would take him out for lunch. They would probably have split the bill but Daehyun would leave the last piece of dumpling to him. 


And yes, that probably means something.



--
Daehyun dreams of the path again and he’s plagued by the same guilt that washes over him everytime he thinks of the boy at the end of the path. 

On some days he tries to forget about it, put it at the back of his mind.

On most days he wants to keep dreaming and never wake up.

--
“I don’t think I can do this Daehyun.” Himchan feels his voice wavering, only then does he realise he’s shaking. 


“What do you mean?” The younger male is calm for now, he rearranges his posture.


“Can you at least tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” 


This goes back and forth and Daehyun’s accent grows thicker with each passing sentence. And Himchan feels a singeing pain from the familiarity. 


“So you’d tell Youngjae but not me?” Himchan almost regrets what he says but he feels the pressure lift from his system a bit.


“So this is what it’s all about?”


Himchan grabs his coat and he apologizes when he’s standing by the door. It’s not him. He says. And Daehyun lets him leave. He waits for the night to take him to the path again. 

--
Himchan finds the letter in his apartment when he returns home, he opens it and the bad scrawl greets him like an old friend.

I don’t think flowers are enough his time. I just don’t know anymore.

And Himchan watches the same words burn to grey in an old biscuit tin. This time he’s alone and he bears the questioning gazes from the stars. 

--
“So you’ve hit a rough patch? I think I can help, meet me at the bus stop in an hour.” 

And Daehyun is waiting at the bus stop for Youngjae because he knows by experience how futile it is to say no to him. Youngjae arrives ten minutes late and he’s smiling. His eyes are crescents and Daehyun thinks of the moon he sometimes see in his dreams, the one that has kept him company amidst the hostile cold of the forest. 


“I found something you might like.” Youngjae is beaming proudly as they alight from the bus.


Daehyun finds himself on the path from his dreams and he feels a certain heaviness down to his marrow. 


“It’s exactly like the one you remember, right?” 


They’re walking and Daehyun hums a reply. Yeah, it is. Thanks. He says quietly and Youngjae deflates. 


“So do you remember now?” Youngjae asks and Daehyun stops. They’re standing in the middle of the path, darkness surrounding them like a shroud and they catch something in one another’s eyes. Daehyun doesn’t know what it is he sees in Youngjae’s eyes but he feels something tightening inside of him. Like the feeling you get when you’re at the airport with so many things that you’ve yet to say and the only thing you manage is a ‘goodbye’. 



“Youngjae,” Daehyun feels the night thickening into soot and he feels guilty, almost because all this while, he knew somehow. He knew-


“There isn’t a path, nor a field. There has never been. I have never been to a place like this before. It’s just a memory of a thought I used to have. That I’d find the person I love at the end of this long path. I’ve always thought it would be nice. And all this while I never told you because that person at the end of the path. That person isn’t Himchan. For a while I tried to convince myself that it is him and it’s part of a memory that just got jumbled up somewhere. But it isn’t him-” 


Youngjae is looking at him now, like he’s about to cry and Daehyun exhales. It’s you.


Youngjae stumbles backwards and he’s walking away from Daehyun. He runs when Daehyun calls after him. He’s running and he doesn’t know where he’s going past the burning in his eyes and the tears that floods his chest and presses against his ribs. He hears his own heart thudding against his chest, and he thinks of the steady beating of someone’s heart beneath feathery touches of his fingers. He thinks of the sheets he has tangled himself in, he thinks of warm nights and the stabbing pain in his chest the next morning. They always leave. He learnt to run. And he has been running for so long, he’s tired now and he wants nothing more than to stop. He feels arms wrap around him and he’s screaming and thrashing. It’s like his body is being torn apart, there’s something crawling beneath his skin, tightening around his lungs and he’s scared. 


Daehyun holds Youngjae in his arms and presses his head against his chest. He feels Youngjae’s body shaking and he feels Youngjae murmuring the same thing over and over again against the fabric of his shirt. This isn’t supposed to happen. Isn’t supposed to happen. Isn’t supposed to happen. Daehyun was supposed to leave. Everyone leaves eventually.


“I’m sorry,” Daehyun whispers again and again and each time Youngjae clenches his fist tighter around the back of Daehyun’s jacket. Daehyun holds him closer.


It’s dark in the field and the streetlamps illuminate the path and Daehyun tries to imagine he’s watching a projection, like everything else has been recently, but he feels the weight of his bones and the warmth of Youngjae’s skin. And it seems all of fate has boiled down to this one moment, it’s cruel, Daehyun thinks, that their story has to reach its in the most broken of ways. He never thought reality could play out the same twisted fates he sees on melodramas. Daehyun hears Youngjae’s first hello and feels the epinephrine in his veins from the memory. Now Youngjae is looking at him, he’s tired. Daehyun sees the weight of the universe in his blood, but the streetlights are dancing like stars in his eyes. 


“If we had met in high school,” Youngjae’s voice is a whisper now, wavering as a draft of wind carries his voice away. “Would you kiss me?” He says, “Would you kiss me and tell me you forgive me?” 


Daehyun touches his fingers to Youngjae’s lips. And soon he’s kissing him softly. The universe seeps into Daehyun’s system and he sees the milkyway on his lids and feels the sun in his chest. He kisses away the apology on Youngjae’s salt skin and pulls him closer. When they pull apart the cold rushes to fill the vacuum between them. 


“I might get hit by a car again someday. It might be tomorrow. I don’t know. But I never want to forget you. And I’m scared but I love you, Youngjae,” Daehyun feels his own words like a gale, he feels something uncoiling, like the unlacing of his soul. Piece by piece, they’re carried away by the draft and they burn into Youngjae like a hurricane. Daehyun runs his thumb across Youngjae’s cheek, wiping away a tear mid-fall, “I love you and I want to kiss you again.” 


They kiss again and Daehyun thinks about this kiss later during the night when he’s alone and in his own bed after Youngjae refuses Daehyun’s offer to walk him home. He think about this kiss because Youngjae is kissing back, hard. He has his fingers entangled in Daehyun’s hair and Daehyun can taste saline water against his skin. And Daehyun wonders if they would have kissed as hard and as passionately as they are now if they had met in high school in that little bus stop. He wonders if he would know well enough to hold onto Youngjae and to never let him go. Wonders if they would have been fireworks because now they are broken shards of glass. Daehyun feels the jagged edges press dangerously close to his heart as they hold one another too tightly. He feels the dull throbbing pain as the shard lodges itself in his muscle.


Youngjae allows himself to bleed dry.


And Daehyun thinks it would be nice to die if a car were to hit him tomorrow. Would be nice to die thinking of Youngjae- the taste of his lips and the way their noses bump so much. 


But somewhere at the back of Daehyun’s mind, he thinks it would be lovely if the car doesn’t come. If he lives to kiss Youngjae again another day. This time maybe by the beach, with sand beneath their feet and the waves circling their ankles. Have Youngjae roll his eyes at him when their noses bump for the nth time. And maybe he would know how it feels like to have Youngjae smile against his lips. 


In that moment nothing can touch them.


All they can do is fall.




--

It is 2a.m in the morning on a Saturday and Daehyun's phone rings. It's a dreadful sound that seems to bring to life the empty apartment around him. The world forcibly becomes vivid in the ungodly hour. The name on the screen reads 'Youngjae'. 


"Hello?" Daehyun answers, voice cracking past the layer of sleep. He's worried but all he hears is breathing from the other end. "Youngjae? Are you okay?" He tries again and he can almost imagine Youngjae rearranging his posture before answering.


"I'm fine... I'm just sleepy that's all!" 


"That's because it's 2 A.M in the morning." Daehyun mumbles and he hears laughter from the other end and suddenly the room becomes familiar again. A smile tugs at his lips. 


"C-can we meet tomorrow? Please?" 


"Sure but- Youngjae are you alright?" 


Daehyun sits up on his bed. 


"Tomorrow, 9. The bus stop. Please don't come find me before that." 


And the line goes dead. Daehyun tries to call back but Youngjae had turned his phone off. Youngjae had been crying and Daehyun doesn't fall asleep for the rest of the night. 



-


"Hi."


"Hi." Daehyun says breathlessly as he looks at Youngjae, trying to take in all of him- the auburn hair sticking out from beneath his beanie, red against the faint yellow beam of the streetlights, his face hidden partially by the big scarf around his neck. 


"I'm sorry I made you come out so suddenly, but I still have one favour left right?" Youngjae says as they walk side by side along the shadows cast by the trees. Daehyun stops them in their tracks, "hey. It's not like I'm keeping count or anything. I like your company, I'm not doing this coz I'm obliged to... Haven't you figured that out by now?" He is speaking so fast he runs out of breath and Youngjae catches his panicked expression and laughs. Daehyun laughs along but doesn't question the sadness in his eyes. As they walk Youngjae looks to his right, away from Daehyun, gaze lingering on the large field beside him and on the stars that litter the pitch of the skies, as if detailing everything in his mind. 


"Thank you..." Youngjae says suddenly, voice muffled by his scarf and Daehyun looks up from the passing shadows beneath his feet. Hmm? He mumbles and the corner of Youngjae's lips stretches upwards. "For saying that. That you like my company... It means a lot to me. Really." He says, almost pleading, as if the slight rasp in his voice isn't enough to convince Daehyun. Youngjae watches as Daehyun's face crumple into a contemplative smile, "Why are you being so nice? Is there something wrong with me? There isn't something the hospital told you that you haven't told me is there? Like am I going to die today or something?" 


Youngjae's eyes widen as he takes in Daehyun's perplexed expression and soon he's shaking with laughter, no, he says, no of course not you idiot, can't I be sentimental for a bit? And Daehyun laughs it off. They walk more and Youngjae ignores Daehyun when he asks where they're going every minute, so Daehyun obediently follows Youngjae like a lost puppy as they watch the park disappear behind them, making way to rows of stubby buildings. Youngjae stops them in front of a building that looks days away from falling apart. Daehyun squints into the dark to read the sign that dangles precariously from the side of the building-


Café 


It says simply, like it’s completely self-aware that that’s all there is to it. 


They find a seat at the back and Youngjae breaks the silence when their coffees arrive. “I used to come here to study a lot when I was in high school.” He breaks the sentence with a sigh. “I told myself it would be nice to bring my date to this place. I did. And he broke my heart.” Youngjae takes another sip from his coffee and Daehyun is watching as his fingernails- bitten down by habit- taps on the rim of the cup. 


“Maybe if we had met then you’d be my stag beetle and I’d have taken you here.” Youngjae laughs, but the hollowness hits Daehyun like a car crash. And Daehyun is entangled in feelings he had never wanted to know, but he knows them well now and they cling to him like an old ailment. 


“I have one last favour. Right?" Youngjae says, working his bottom lip between his lips viciously, "And you have to do anything I say, right? No questions asked?"


"Youngjae-"


"I don't want to see you ever again." 


Youngjae says, expression hard, eyes b with tears and the room falls silent, Daehyun's sentence dying on his lips.  Daehyun wants to beg, he wants Youngjae to explain to him what he did wrong, but soon Youngjae was out the door and Daehyun knows he has to keep his promise. 




--

Himchan opens the door and Daehyun steps in. Daehyun is kissing him hard and Himchan finds himself giving in, his fingers are in Daehyun’s hair and he’s desperately trying to hold on. But it doesn’t feel right, nothing feels right and Himchan resists the urge to claw at his own skin, to step out from his body and scream. They pull apart and only then does Himchan realize that Daehyun is crying. 


“I don’t like seeing you cry. I never liked seeing you cry.” Himchan says and there’s a lump in his throat. His fingers curl around his arm and he presses his nails hard against his skin. When you cry it means everything is falling apart.


“I want to love you, Himchan.” 


Daehyun’s voice is almost a whisper as he stands in front of Himchan, his eyes have lost its glimmer, like there’s nothing left in him and Himchan feels his nails press deeper into his skin.


They sit themselves by the curb behind Himchan’s apartment. The skies are clear, leaving wisps of clouds just above the horizon as it trades its dying breath with the moon. 


“Why did you love me?” Daehyun asks. Himchan’s hand is in his and Daehyun is clinging on tighter than he can manage. “You’re still not telling huh.” Daehyun laughs humourlessly, so does Himchan. 


They watch the skies swirl into a faint pink, the imprint of the moon is somewhere behind the cellophane atmosphere and their intertwined fingers cast a long shadow on the ground in front of them. 


Daehyun stands abruptly, brushing the earth from his pants. Himchan stands as well, wrapping a hand over the angry marks of red trailing up his arm. They are starting to burn but Himchan feels a sudden coldness. Daehyun closes his eyes.


“Time is like a path. That’s what you said.”


“Daehyun-“


Daehyun takes a step backwards, and another, then another. And he prays with all his heart that the path will bring him away from the present. But he thinks of Youngjae. Youngjae would have laughed if he had seen Daehyun like this, would have called him an idiot. And he sees Youngjae running- he’s crying and he’s running away from Daehyun. 


Daehyun opens his eyes when he feels arms around his shoulders.


“Why do you love me?” Daehyun asks, and his face is in Himchan’s short, black hair and he breathes in hard and tries to remember, he’s sure he’s done this many times before because Himchan smelt like summer.


“I tried to stop, Daehyun. I tried. But I can’t. I want to stop loving you Daehyun.” 


They kiss after, in the empty street. Himchan thinks it would’ve been tragically beautiful if a car had sped past and killed both of them, and if they hadn’t been killed, maybe Himchan could lose his memory and find himself in the arms of the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen. 


But the street remains empty and Himchan is kissing the most beautiful boy in the world. They’re at the end of the street and their shadows stretch towards the road behind them. 


Himchan goes home to an empty apartment and he opens up the windows to ease the air into his lungs. And he sees the flower pressing in his opened book. 


The daisy- now brown and brittle- does nothing more than to hold the pages of his book apart.


He knows it’s over. Himchan closes his eyes and waits for the end.



--

Himchan has just turned twenty. He decides to go to the cemetery almost a year after the funeral. He wonders if things would be different if he had attended the funeral. If he would have broken down when he sees the picture of the boy with the hollow eyes and trusting smile. If he would be able to face the boy's parents. After all he's heard his mother's voice through the words that now plague his thoughts. 



This is not normal.



Himchan kneels in front of his grave and brushes at the stray twigs that have settled there. He's seen his parents do this before for his grandparents' graves. He places the flower wreath on the ground and mutters an apology. 



The playground is old, its skeletal steel structures wrap around Himchan. But they do nothing to keep the cold away. The wind seeps into his bones. He tears open the gold foil of his cigarette pack and lights one. When he inhales he keeps the smoke near the back of his throat longer than he's used to. He exhales luxuriously and feels the warmth grow in his chest. It's a funny thing, really. And Himchan wonders if the concoction of smoke and ash would be as embracing if he were to be the one burning. 



"Can I have one?" 



Himchan jumps from the intrusion and he sees a boy standing in front of him. Black hair sticking out from his snap back and hands idle in his pockets. Himchan offers a smile and his pack of cigarettes and the boy takes it as and invitation to sit on the roundabout with him. He sits cross legged and sighs contentedly as he lights his cigarette. 



"It's windy isn't it?" The boy says.



"Yes, windy." Himchan taps his cigarette against the rusting rail.



"I'm Daehyun." The boy says, his cigarette, though lighted, stays by his side, shrinking into an accumulation of ash. "The grave you just went to. That's my best friend's grave."



Himchan tries to recall why the name Daehyun sounds so familiar and when he realizes he smiles. The reintroduction of an old character. "I'm Himchan. I slept with your best friend."



He waits for it to come. Waits for Daehyun to punch him square on the jaw. It wouldn't hurt anymore. It's chilly and Himchan is numb to the bones. But it doesn't come. Instead Daehyun merely hums a reply and asks for Himchan to continue. 



"He told me it isn't normal. And I believed him. But he was just one of the others. I woke up in a different bed every day. What he said didn't affect me because I already knew." Himchan tosses his cigarette at his feet and drags his sole over the lighted end. He closes his eyes and he wishes he were dead. The weight of the world is resting on his glass spine and he's suddenly afraid that he might not go as marvellously as he would want. Daehyun places the cigarette against his lips and inhales tentatively. His jaw slackens in the strangest of ways like he's trying to contain the smoke under his tongue. He exhales in a chain stuttered breaths. 



"I was in love with him." Daehyun says absentmindedly, his gaze is fixed on a stain on his shoe.



Himchan apologies repeatedly and Daehyun tells him not to be sorry. Hey. It's okay. It’s okay, really. Daehyun smiles and Himchan feels the warmth bubble in his blood. He tries to tell himself it's the nicotine.



"Do you think I'm lost?" Himchan asks with a sigh as he pulls his legs towards his chest and leans his cheek against his knees.



"Everyone's lost at points in their lives." Daehyun gives up on his cigarette and crushes it beneath his feet, revelling in the way the rough metal of the roundabout tears through the paper and smudges the ash and charred tobacco. "What matters is that you find your way back onto the path eventually." 



And Himchan looks at Daehyun like he's trying to catch everything he's saying as the words slip past his lips. He's trying to match every syllable with what he's feeling. Because what Daehyun said was beautiful. At that moment Himchan knew he would spend the night with Daehyun. 



And they do just that. Himchan's dorm comprises of straightened out lines and sharp bends and Daehyun helps to smooth out the edges as he curves Himchan's body into his. It's not completely dark in the room, they left the table lamp on when they stumbled in, but neither reach to find the switch as they kiss with their eyes closed. Moulding and unmoulding into one another. Himchan's mind remains malleable, he bends towards every single sound that Daehyun makes. Neither stop to question what it is they were doing. Himchan has made many mistakes in his life, but Daehyun wouldn't be one of them. Not when he's kissing at Himchan's neck and telling him "it's not your fault" over and over again because that's all Himchan needs to hear. That's all he has ever needed. Himchan sees Daehyun silhouette against the wall and he never wants to let him go, not when the sun comes up and the shadows fade to day and he'll have nothing left to remember Daehyun by, save for a piece of memory from the night before. They touch one another, Himchan's fingers brush across the structure of Daehyun's ribs beneath his skin and he bends to kiss him. Daehyun laughs, he's ticklish so he laughs and kicks Himchan in his gut by reflex. He apologises but Himchan kisses him quiet. They pull apart to giggle once in a while, because everything is happening like lightning and Himchan is still trying to ink graveyard boy’s name in his heart. And it slips past his lips as he rehearses the syllables at the tip of his tongue. 


Daehyun.


The boy laughs, yes? He answers. And Himchan just smiles, “I just wanna know it’s you--.” 


Daehyun pulls Himchan closer and he can feel the vibrations of the boy’s laughter against his shoulder. It’s me, he says, and he says that the subsequent times Himchan asks and Himchan feels a sense of comfort existing within the habit he has formed around Daehyun. 


Himchan writes about love, but no amount of ink on paper can amount to this. Himchan falls asleep wrapped in warm skin and gentle bones. Himchan thinks it wouldn't matter if he got lost in Daehyun's eyes.


--
Himchan wakes up and the world is still. Maybe I’m dead. Himchan almost wishes, but he takes a deep breath and tastes the possibility in the air. He fixes his hair in the mirror and a smile on his face. He packs a suitcase for moderate weather and puts on his best shirt. 


The airport is a long cab ride away and Himchan tips generously after the journey. The airport is vast and Himchan feels alive as he feels the rush of people in his skin. He buys a one-way ticket to Paris and lingers at the departure hall. He has a few hours left and one more thing on his mind. He pulls out his phone and dials the number.


“Come meet me at the airport.” Himchan says and hangs up just as quickly. 


He sees Daehyun a while later, all dishevelled hair and crumpled mismatched clothes, Himchan breaks into a smile as Daehyun half-jogs towards him. 


“I just thought I should say goodbye. I’m going to Paris for a while.” 


Daehyun is breathing like he just ran a mile and they’re standing near the departure gates and Himchan wants nothing more than to hold Daehyun’s hand and run away with him. But he forces himself to look into Daehyun’s eyes as the latter apologises.


“Stop apologising, jeez!” Himchan rolls his eyes, “you loved me, all of me. And that makes me the luckiest person.” But Daehyun is looking at his feet like he’s trying to find the right words to say, but he’s a bundle of morning sleepiness and unexplainable guilt. Himchan takes in the world around him- bright lights, smooth tiles, the organised rush of people and possibilities. He sighs and closes his eyes, “I’ve written about this before. Somewhere.” He murmurs and ignores the confusion on Daehyun’s face. Himchan widens the distance between them and smiles, “I’m going to break up with you in an airport, Jung Daehyun.” 


Daehyun tries to interject but Himchan shushes him, “I’m the protagonist here.”


“I loved you forever, Daehyun. That’s something words on paper cannot describe well enough. I don’t know why because you make too much noise in the morning and you know nothing of romance. But I loved you so much.” Daehyun is so very still and Himchan still thinks he’s the loveliest arrangement of bones and skin that he’s seen. 


“I fell in love with you at a playground outside a cemetery. That was the second time we’ve ever met. And you saved me. And all I want for now is to do the same for you. Because that’s the past, Daehyun.”


“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you better.” 


Himchan shakes his head. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine now. “I’ve always wondered how it would feel like to kiss someone goodbye at the airport,” Himchan presses a gentle kiss on Daehyun’s cheek and hugs him. He’s grabbing at the fabric of Daehyun’s shirt and he fights the urge to break down. He feels the weight of Daehyun’s existence in his arms and he wonders if he would still amount to anything without Daehyun. If his careless accumulation of nerves and skin would be anything without gentle bones to hold him in the dark. It’s going to be okay. Himchan mumbles into the fabric of Daehyun’s shirt, more for his own benefit as he pulls apart. 


“I’ve lost you Jung Daehyun,” Himchan is resolute as he rearranges his posture and stands with his chest puffed out, smile curving his eyes into crescents. “And you’ve lost me.” He inhales deeply before continuing, Goodbye, Daehyun. He says and a slight smile finds its way into the corners of Daehyun’s lips when he sees Himchan’s child-like glint. Now wasn’t that a pretty scene. He hears Himchan say as he turns his back to Daehyun. 


Himchan walks towards the departure gates, bag in his hands and smile on his face. His steps falter and he has to fight the urge to turn back but he no longer listens for the headwinds. There’s a spark in his chest and a certain warmth within him, one that isn’t left by Daehyun. One that is his own. 


When he lands in Paris, he feels something within him. Like the quick procession of unlacing and re-lacing and he’s free. He finds the café and sits at the seat by the windows. Himchan orders a black coffee and stirs in a spoonful of sugar. He begins to write when the coffee is no longer steaming. Himchan thinks of what to write. He starts on a few lines-


We met by the cemetery. 


He thinks it’s a morbid start. Not very romantic by his standards. He looks out the window and sees a stray piece of paper blown by the wind. Himchan feels the wind against his back and he cancels out the first line. He thinks of a long white path, plain, simple. Not much of a spectacular setting, kind of plain, but it’s lovely nonetheless. And maybe, just maybe that would do. He smiles and stretches. He feels a tingle in his spine, like something is about to begin when he picks up his pen and leaves its ink trail on the paper. 


--


Daehyun walks along the path. 



It's always within the minutes before the rain that the world comes to life. People scramble to get home and the creatures move beneath the earth. Daehyun should probably be getting home. He doesn't have an umbrella with him and his library books were going to get wet. But he feels he should be out today. To watch the rain. 



Youngjae sits and watches as his bus leaves the stop. He has daisies from the market on his lap and he wonders if they know it's going to rain because they have their heads bowed towards the earth. He imagines he's young again, in his uniform and all, feet kicking above the ground, but he catches a glimpse of his reflection on a passing vehicle and smiles. Thirteen year old him wouldn't have thought it would be nice to sit out and watch the rain. 



The world stops to listen as the first raindrop hits the earth.



People are scuttling towards the bus stop as the rain falls in sheets and Daehyun follows suit, attempting to shelter the books from the rain with little success. He would have to stay up that night to dry them. Daehyun stops when he sees Youngjae pull the daisies closer towards him as he tucks his feet under the bench. 



Daehyun struggles to breathe and suddenly the world around him becomes vivid. He feels himself being lifted from the velvet seats and he's passing through the screen. He feels the gravel beneath his feet. 


“Did you know stag beetles mate for life?” Daehyun stammers.


And Youngjae sees him and his breath catches in his throat. He smiles, a small lift by the corners of his lips. It's a beautiful smile and Daehyun feels the warmth course through his system. 



It is raining that day. 


--             

I’m sitting at a café in the late mornings. I have things to do, people to see- the world that is bathed in the blinding light of day calls out to me. 

'You are young.'

The world whispers in my ear as sunlight reaches out to kiss my skin through the glass of the windows. I am young but I’m afraid to leave. Afraid that the path outside would sweep me away, that the concrete might be waves and I am struggling to pull myself back to shore. But I’m too far out at sea, and before I know it I’m forty. I’m too proud to admit that the best half of my life has slipped through my fingers and it has taken my spirit with me. It has left me and I wait for its return like a childhood lover with a stubborn infatuation with the past. And I’m scared because I have forgotten the feel of dry land beneath my feet. 

I’m sitting at a café in the late afternoon. Time slows and the air has lost its density and I finally understand why people say ‘thin air’. It gets hard to breathe and I think of how he used to take my breath away. The series of untitled French accordion music fades and the automotive sounds become more apparent. It gets hard to concentrate on writing, words lose their meaning in my mind and against my tongue they taste foreign. The only thing I have left are memories and the faint whir of morning traffic. 

I like to imagine that I’m young again and that we met under some unfortunate circumstance. Some memorable event in which he comes and steals me from where I’m lost. And I would find myself again, in his sheets, his lips against my skin. He would protect me and I would tell him that he’s beautiful, always. 

But I’m young and love doesn’t seem as electric as before.

The waves wash me back on the shore and I see him, at the end of the path. His hair is a different colour from what I imagine and he’s sitting and waiting for someone. He checks for the bus every few minutes. I pass him and he sees me. He smiles and he’s beautiful. My breath catches and I’m struggling to breathe but I hear the shores pooling at my feet and I feel the wind in my hair and they’re tugging at me. I will myself to walk away. 

As I sit at the café, I pour over the possibilities. We could have talked, we could have fallen in love. I could have written him hundreds of letters and we could have burned them together as offerings to the stars. To let them know that we are in love and we are every bit as beautiful as they are. 

But I have found my way back, there’s the earth beneath my feet and the skies above me and I cannot lose myself again because the past has forgotten me, but the present- the present remembers. 

I watch the world around me. I am small compared to the magnificence of the stars, but his love for the boy whose bus has arrived comes close. We are a collection of bones and ashes, but I will stop waiting for the headwinds to take me back to him.

I promised him a letter, so I address it to my past.

To my baby, our past
and his future.
And to myself, forgotten 

I am Kim Himchan.

And he remains my biggest what if.



 

this was originally written for thebrowniebunch excahnge for andnowforyaya<3

during which I was changing timezones for university, so although there are many mistakes/it's not as whole as I had planned for it to be, I guess it's still my baby.

(and I'd like to thank fujiunz once again for cheering me on and for the people who've bothered to read this story/leave me comments. I appreciate them so so much! please do feel free to tell me where I can improve.) 

as of yet, this is still unbeta-ed so I apologize for any mistakes! 

xx