This is the original ending (Chapter 13) for Forgive Me Not.
CHAPTER 13: ESPERANDO
They say you see things when you’re about dead. I’m seeing some things, though perhaps they are just dreams. I do spend the majority of my life wandering between dreams, after all, trying to find a purpose. Maybe when I wake up I’ll forget about this. Should I?
It’s Eunhyuk and Heechul hyung, under the most brilliantly, breath-taking blue sky. No clouds, just blue. It’s like they’re floating on a world on top of the ocean. Or living in a dome beneath the waves?
Summer.
They are situated on top of an abandoned industrial building of sorts. Grey, brown, a construction of corroded bricks and all big and gloomy looking. Hyung sits at the edge with a goldfish, bumping off the side of its plastic mansion excitably, by his side. He’s got an ice cream cone in his hand and a tune on his lips. I like the way he’s looking into the distance. It’s abstract. The hospital gown looks too big on him and his fiddling with the corners doesn’t help.
Eunhyuk stands a pace after him, hair as red as it’s ever been. The two of them are two little specks in a giant field of skyscrapers and bridges but they still exist. They’re like two little dots in an exercise in pointillism; without them something would change, somehow. Even if it’s just by a little.
Hyung suddenly throws the goldfish down the side. It lands with a thick sort of smattering. He looks as if he wants to scream, but doesn’t quite know what. Is he trying to find a purpose in life? Does he want to ask a question? I’ve been there before. I can help you with that, hyung.
He pauses for a bit, shoulders loosening and spin curling. He looks empty and hollow, such a strange expression under such a beautiful sky. He looks as if he’s doubting his own existence.
Eunhyuk, behind him, looks frenzied. No, not frenzied. He looks shredded; as if someone has gone inside of him and tore him up. His hair is disheveled and he’s dirty. I bet he still smells of cigarettes. No, don’t look that way, Eunhyuk. Why are you crying? Do you think it’s alright to steal my tears when I’m not there? What’s that giant stain on your shirt? Is that blood? Were you bleeding? Why haven’t you washed it out? Has life been kind to you, Eunhyuk?
There is a letter under Heechul hyung’s hand. I’ve seen this one before. I wonder if hyung will make the cut this time. He doesn’t. He laughs tears, giant globs of them, things I’ve never seen on his face before, he as shreds it. In half. In quarters. Into pieces. Millions of little white snowflakes blow across the empty courtyard, under and over a blue ocean. Mid-summer’s day.
Hyung stands up abruptly, throws the ice cream off to the side. The cone cracks into two perfectly symmetrical pieces by his foot. With red eyes, he touches Eunhyuk’s arm. It’s the littlest contact and they don’t say anything, but somehow I can feel that something profound is being exchanged. Suddenly, like that, hyung laughs. Eunhyuk laughs too.
I suddenly remember the day that I met hyung. We stood like that as well, both laughing at nothing in particular. I was laughing at my lack of self and he was laughing at his overabundance of self. I’m not sure what they find funny today, but it’s probably about as unfunny as it had been for us.
“Donghae used to ask me what his purpose was,” Hyung suddenly remarks, “I asked him what the kind of question was that, but thinking about it now, it’s pretty valid. You know. Why do I exist? Why am I here? Why was I born alone?”
“Why?” Eunhyuk mutters. There is wind in his hair. I realize, finally, that the blood on his shirt belongs to me.
“To be used,” Hyung smiles. His hand falls off of Eunhyuk’s shoulder and he takes a step forward. And another one, and another one, and now he’s by the staircase, out of earshot from Eunhyuk, “See you.”
Don't look so sad, hyung. The world is as cruel as you make it. Don't be sad, hyung.
--
There are voices beckoning me. They’re soft-like, a little blurry and indistinct, but I know that they’re for me. I want to reach out and caress something. To say, “Hey! I’m awake! Someone do something!” But my body feels heavy and big so I can do is twist my neck and try to force my eyes open. How long have I been lying here?
I see white. Lots of white. Little structures. Metal. Fabric. Walls. Something’s moving. I can’t quite make any noises; the skin in my throat sticks together and it hurts. God, I’m parched. Is there no water around here?
“Hyung! Hyung’s awake. Shindong! Shindong!”
“Yah it’s sunbae, punk!”
“Hyung, hey, look here. Turn your head this way…”
Kyuhyun. It’s Kyuhyun. Kyuhyun and Shindong.
I remember.
Cho Kyuhyun. Best friend. Detective Inspector. Shindong. Worst boss. Detective Chief Superintendent. Saw them on television. Had drinks with them. Shindong liks instant noodles. Kyuhyun has elitist parents. Kyuhyun was released from jail. Shindong made a statement on television. I can remember!
The first time I was born, I cried. The second time, I looked around blankly. This time, I came with a smile.
A big one.
EPILOGUE
“The new leader of the Choi Yong Pa, Kim Heechul, is said to have been actively pushing international gang treaties, leading to heavy fluctuations in the underground drug market and—”
“Are you even listening?” Kyuhyun’s hand snuck behind Donghae’s shoulder and grabbed the remote, tucking Heechul’s head-shot behind a curtain of blackness.
“What did you do that for?” Donghae glanced from the screen and immediately averted his gaze upon noticing Kyuhyun’s frown.
Kyuhyun groaned. Sometimes Donghae acted so innocent that Kyuhyun wanted to break something. Little did Kyuhyun know, that was Donghae’s intent exactly; he’d taken a new liking to torturing his friend, a sort of a payback for his snappy comments.
“I said, don’t you have to go to work yet? Your boss’s got to be a moron to not have fired you already.”
“Uh-huh. Yes sir, sir,” Donghae quipped, groaning and huffing his way up from the couch and to the front door.
In all reality, he didn’t really have a right to complain. As with Heechul, Donghae came out of the hospital eating out of Kyuhyun’s hands. Or rather, instant noodle stock. The detective had now become a free-lance consultant, something like a modern day Sherlock Holmes—or so he liked to call himself—but Donghae knew that half of Kyuhyun’s clientele came from the darker side of Seoul. The man had morphed into something of a judge; a shadow of one, perhaps, to those who cannot afford the law. Still, he wasn’t that well-paid and Donghae knew that he was more or less a burden.
Which was why he let Eunhyuk hire him a two weeks ago. Again. They’d gone through the gist of the same phone conversation as before, after Donghae had posted the same ad, simply for the sake of tradition. Donghae had laughed during the call, wondering what sort of tradition they were making and whether or not it was an omen to his going to sleep again. By this point Donghae didn’t quite want to go to sleep anymore. If he had a choice, he’d want to keep his eyes open forever.
“Are you still looking for a job?” Eunhyuk actually sounded quite serious. Donghae couldn’t remember if Eunhyuk had sounded so serious the last time.
“Well…”
“I have an apartment. It’s downtown Seoul. I need you to come and clean it up every Wednesday at a particular hour—”
“Not mess it up?”
“Why the hell would I ask you to mess something up? I’m perfectly capable of doing that on my own.”
“But…” Donghae had pouted. Eunhyuk was definitely nicer the last time around, but Donghae didn’t quite mind. He thought Eunhyuk was cute. Eunhyuk was hot and cute and gorgeous and he was one fine piece of property—though Donghae hadn’t seen him since his dream in the hospital, he knew. He knew everything about Eunhyuk, though at the same time he didn’t know anything. But that was the beauty of it, Donghae decided.
“Also, I’m broke. You’ll have to work for free.”
“Well this.”
The call ended then and there but Donghae showed up at half past midnight on Wednesday anyway. He’d even fished an apron out of a dumpster for the task. The apartment, when he’d walked inside, was horrendous. Horrendous was actually an understatement, to Donghae. Dirty laundry was scattered all over the ground, the dishes piled up high, and there was a body under the bedcover.
A body.
At least Donghae knew how to clean one thing up.
As Donghae opened the door tonight, he had to recheck the nameplate, because either Eunhyuk was bipolar or he was in the wrong place. The apartment was sparkling. Literally sparkling, as if someone had gone in with shoeshine and polished everything up. Donghae picked his way past the furniture and, tracing the yellow wallpaper with his fingertips, imagining the yellow rekindling into a small flame, arrived at the coffee table.
Looking down, Donghae bit down a giggle.
He picked up the overnight bus ticket to Sokpo and locked the door behind him. The sky was still black outside, but Donghae knew that it would be blue. Soon.
THE END.
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