17

Running the same way he did those 300 some-odd days ago hit Youngjae like a train. He found himself falling into the snow gleefully, uncaring of the chill that seeped through his coat. The birds chirped happily, as if recognizing him from before and welcoming him home.

Memories of last year, of his mom questioning his rosey cheeks and glittering eyes, and getting scolded for giggling during prayer when he remember the way Daehyun had scarfed down his sandwich, and falling asleep at his windowsill for weeks after the event; the memories flooded his mind like the cold flooded his body.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he almost didn’t hear the shuffling of hooves making their way towards him.

Almost.

“You there! Are you aware that this is private property?” a gruff voice called from atop what he could only assume was a horse.

Glinting through the harsh light of the sun, Youngjae glared at the man―or his silhouette, at least―agitatedly.

“Of course I know my own property!” he snapped back. How many more times was he going to have this conversation?

The man seemed to consider his words, before jumping off the horse and making his way out of the sunlight. Up close, Youngjae could see that he wore a worn down pair of overalls, with an even more worn down plaid button-up underneath. Something about him sparked Youngjae's memory, though he couldn’t tell what it was.

“My bad, truly. There’s been a bunch of bandits running around here lately defiling everything.” The man explained with a scowl. “Me and my brothers have been trying to help out, is all. I swear I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“I don’t remember my pa ever hiring you or your brothers.” Youngjae grumbled. For all the time he spent stuck inside, any kind of news sneaking past him was unheard of.

“He didn’t―doesn’t need to. When you live like we do, you do things just for the sake of doing them. My name’s Himchan by the way.” Himchan reached out his hand.

“Youngjae Yoo.” Youngjae replied, allowing himself to be pulled up. “Where are the rest of your brothers? And what do you mean like you and your brothers? Y’all better not be plotting anything.”

“Why is it always the suspicious ones that I have to deal with?” Himchan sighed instead of an answer.

⁑

In the Jung residence, Himchan and who had now been introduced as the youngest brother, Junhong, had sat across the table from an antsy Youngjae.

It hadn’t occurred to him until he entered the house and saw the family photo, with a certain tanned boy and six other people he didn’t recognize, that Himchan was the ‘hyung’ Daehyun had been calling out to that forever ago. Himchan must not have recognized him though, from the way he had thought he was a trespasser just an hour earlier.

They’d offered some soup and tea now that they knew he wasn’t some kind of vandal, and both offerings now sat in front of him, somehow still steaming hot despite his having never touched it. It was as if they were eternal. Everything about the Jung brothers seemed eternal, from the unnatural glow of their faces, pure and unblemished(which was unheard of at the time, unless you’d been from a higher class family like Youngjae had, and judging from the way they dressed and their run down house they definitely weren’t the richest), or their unbruised skin and hands free of calluses. For people who claimed to do so much, they looked as if they’d never worked a day in their life.

He heaved a sigh, glancing for the door again, and then glancing between the two brothers who stared at him with only a slight disinterest. Apparently, it wasn’t safe for him to go the way he told them he was heading, and that there were bandits nearby, and that he would just have to wait until the others arrived so they could him back safely.

He tsked at that; As if I haven’t already safely traveled this way before. As if this isn’t my own property. The nerve.

He’d relented reluctantly, allowing Himchan to ride him back to the house at the very edge of the woods and almost into a completely different woods.

“You know,” Youngjae started, twiddling his thumbs in a one player game of thumb war, “My pa’s supposed to teach me how to shoot a rifle today. It's my 17th birthday, so I need to start learning how to protect myself from strangers.” Like you, he added in his head. “I should probably be getting home real soon after this if I don't wanna miss anything important.”

Both just nodded, and the silenced pulled back over them as quick as it had left.

Youngjae shifted uncomfortably. He wished he had more options than being trapped between two disturbingly quiet brothers or a group of criminals who might not even exist.

At the sound of the door opening, a collective sigh went across the room. Youngjae stood, trying and failing to bite down a grin when he spotted Daehyun’s sweaty face in the doorway. Daehyun’s eyes frantically searched the room, and as his eyes landed on Youngjae his face lit up in a similar way.

“You came back.” he breathed, taking a step forward and then stopping, eyes focusing on something behind him.

Youngjae looked behind himself as well and noticed the disapproving glare on Himchan’s face, and the way the youngest had shied back.

Footsteps came from behind Daehyun, and Youngjae’s head swiveled to the right as two more people entered, one tall, blank-faced and brooding and the other short and blank-faced and brooding.

There was a moment where the tension and the awkwardness and adrenaline all mixed together in the room like a fat elephant in the room slowly making its appearance, and everyone stared at each other in varying ranges of confusion and discontentment, before the tall and blank-faced one finally spoke.

“Would someone like to tell me what’s going on?”

⁑

Youngjae sat quietly while Daehyun explained what happened, twiddling his fingers nervously. He felt like when he was in school and got called up to the front office, and all the staff would stare at him with unreadable expressions while asking questions about friends and school work. His stomach kept making uneasy turns and spins, and he was starting to regret not eating when he was given the chance.

It was only when he noticed that it got peculiarly quiet did he look up, and realized that all eyes were on him. Youngjae blushed beet red.

“Could you repeat the question?” he asked shyly, resisting the urge to flinch when Himchan rolled his eyes.

“I said that you two can go. Be back before the sun is set, and don’t travel outside of these parts of the woods.” Himchan turned his stare to Daehyun, face somehow becoming more stern than it already was before. “I mean it.”

Daehyun nodded, grabbing Youngjae by the wrist and pulling him out of the house before he could embarrass himself further. He brought him around and to the back of the house, where they both sat awkwardly tensed up on the porch steps.

“That could’ve gone better.” Youngjae said, finally taking his time to look over the other. His visuals looked like he hadn’t aged a day―even his hair seemed to be around the same exact length as it was before. It looked as if to him it had been only yesterday, and the only thing that had changed was that he now sported a fishing hat hanging behind his neck and he’d traded his black slacks for blue jeans with frays at the end. If I’d ruined my jeans like that, Ma would never let me hear the end of it. “Do you need some better clothes? ‘Cuz I have a lot of hand-me-downs I can let you borrow.”

His face pinched into a frown when the older laughed, muttering something about ‘rich folks’ and how they were always assuming something. “I’m perfectly fine.” Daehyun answered, an amused grin taking over his face. “Thank you for the offer, Youngjae. However, I’d gladly accept another sandwich of yours if you have one packed.” He then reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled bag full of peanuts. “I have some snacks saved from this morning. I’ll trade you a bag of nuts for a sandwich?”

Youngjae rolled his eyes, reaching in his bag for the slightly smashed sandwiches, handing one to the boy beside him and keeping the other for himself. “You don’t have to trade me anything. I was going to give you it anyway.” He sat the bag of nuts in between the both of them, and then finally unwrapped his own sandwich.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“I asked first.”

“I’m your guest.”

“I’m your host.”

Youngjae glared at the boy’s innocent smile and huffed. “It’s not nice to not bring a present for someone, especially if you haven’t seen them in a while.”

Daehyun stared at him as if he’d said the most odd thing ever, before giving way to a small smile. “Well, aren’t you just the perfect southern gentleman?”

Youngjae shoved him in the shoulder, feeling a blush rise on his cheeks. “At least I had enough manners to actually offer you a meal! All you got me was this bag of crushed up peanuts!” His glare faltered watching the other break out into loud laughter. He continued still, now more teasing than anything. “I’m serious! Hasn’t anyone ever taught you even a of manners? You weren’t even around to see your own guest arrive.”

“I’ll have you know I was out patrolling to keep said guess alive.” Daehyun counter-argued, smirking as he watched the latter try to work up a good response.

Finally, Youngjae crossed his arms and tilted his nose up haughtily. “I can protect myself, all by myself. I’ll have you know my pa’s gonna teach me how to shoot a rifle today. A real rifle too, not one of the fake ones.”

Daehyun remained unperturbed. “I can do that too, you know?” His smirk broadened. “I can shoot shotguns too. Rifles, shotguns, handguns, bow and arrow-”

“Shut up.” Youngjae grumbled, a pout starting to form on his lips.

“You're real cute when you're angry.” Youngjae choked on his sandwich, his eyes watering and his face turning bright red, whether from embarrassment or asphyxiation he'd never know.

The perpetrator at least had the audacity to pat his back, though he was snorting trying to hold back laughter.

“You get flustered real easily too. Have you always been this cute? ‘Cuz I don't remember you being this cute last time.”

Youngjae took a deep gasp of breath, attempting to collect himself for just long enough so that he could knock the other off his feet for once. For the moment though, all he could manage was a grimace while he wiped the tears out of his eyes.

“Why did I bother coming to see you again?”

“Free will.” Daehyun stuffed the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, shoving the plastic wrap into his pocket.

“Where there's a will there's a way, huh?” Youngjae quoted, looking out towards the fields that surrounded the backyard. If he looked close enough, he could make out the fluttering white bodies of hundreds of moths. It was odd, to see so many this deep into the winter, and he had a horrible feeling they'd all be dead within the next few days.

“They’re winter moths.” Daehyun spoke, his gaze following Youngjae’s. “They hatch in the spring―they’re adults during the winter. They’re safe, if that’s what you’re wondering."

“I thought they were immortal.” Youngjae said, only half-joking.

“Nah, there’s not enough room in this town for more immortality.”

Youngjae’s brow furrowed, fixing his mouth to ask ‘More?’, but being met with a shake of the head.

“In an impossible turn of events, not everything has to die.” Daehyun’s riddle confused him even more.

“Everything always dies, though. It’s inevitable.”

Daehyun smiled at him in the way that parents do at children when they ask, ‘How are babies made?’, and he had half the mind to argue when Daehyun spoke up again.

“That’s what impossible means.” He stood, running into the fields and making all the moths fly like dandelion seeds in the spring.

Youngjae froze, before following after him, nearly tripping on his own feet in an attempt to catch up. “Hold on! You didn't tell me what the immortal thing was!”