Chapter 9

Once upon a time, Taeyong fell in love with the moon. Maybe because it was the beacon of hope in his bleak existence. Sometimes, he would look at it from Ten’s bedroom window or when he laid on the dewy grass on a hot summer night. There was always a kind of coldness to the moon, like it was something meant to be revered from afar. And every night he would visit the moon, he would talk and pretend the moon was listening because there was no one else who could listen to him like that, raw and sweet and uncensored.

That was around the time when he read The Little Prince, and just like how the prince was devoted to his rose, Taeyong was devoted to his moon. It was a sort of a blind kind of love, merely superficial. But Jaehyun had looked so lovely and Taeyong had wanted to cling to every small beautiful thing he had left- roses and moons and doctors that had dimples. It felt like simpler times.

He shouldn’t have been so foolish.

He knew he shouldn’t have fallen in love with the moon, which had craters and holes like the rest of the universe, which only came out at night, which stole its light from the sun, which waxes and wanes as it pleases. But Taeyong was a child who was lonely and sad, who didn’t know better.

He fell in love with the moon.

Despite knowing very well that it had two faces.

“Jae! Jae!” Doyoung’s loud voice resounded through the cold apartment. He was banging on the door, overaught. Taeyong felt pretty dead but he blinked back the fairy dust and managed to skulk towards the door.

“Jae- Oh, Taeyong.” Doyoung flushed red at the door as he peered past him. “Is Jaehyun here?” He asked, peeking inside and he moved away to let the elder in.

“He left.” Taeyong deadpanned.

“What?” Doyoung sounded more alarmed than usual. Taeyong began to feel a twinge of culpability.

“He came back two nights ago and he left.”

“Oh dear… Did he say where he was going?”

“No…”

“This is troubling…” Doyoung began to pace, a frown etched onto his features

“What’s going on?” Taeyong asked.

“Well, he hasn’t reported to work and the Chief is pretty mad. Irene and Taeil is covering for him. And gosh, last time this happened was when Hansol-” He stopped himself and now even the younger felt worried.

“This has happened before?”

“Forget I said that.” Doyoung shook his head, dismissive, before he flipped his phone out and dialled someone. “Seulgi, it’s happening again. We need to find him now. I’ll check a few places. We’ll meet at the hospital.”

“What’s going on?”

“Jaehyun’s gone MIA which is very very dangerous… Why didn’t you tell anyone?” He sounded stressed but Taeyong has no answers for him. Because he hurt me. Because he left. But Taeyong can’t bring himself to say those words out loud.

“I didn’t think he was-“

“Self-destructive? Well, he is.” Doyoung snapped at him before taking a step back and breathing out heavily, trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry. I’m not really helping, am I? It’s just that… last time he did this, Hansol had just died. And he almost… he almost did the same.”

“And now he’s missing? What do you mean by the same?” Taeyong’s eyes widened at the news. I didn’t know Jae had tried...

“Did something happen between you two?” Doyoung’s eyes flickered to him, questioning, if not, slightly desperate.

“I can’t say.” He bit his lip.

“Well, whatever. I need to find him before he does something stupid.” Doyoung replied flippantly, passive-aggressively clenching and unclenching his fists like he couldn’t decide if he should hit Taeyong or not for being uncooperative.

“L-let me help.” Taeyong grabbed his jacket and stumbled out the door, trailing behind him. “What happened the last time? Where did you find him?” Doyoung’s reply is cold and tinged with a sadness he had never heard from the surgeon before as he moved swiftly.

“We found him at the Han River, past the railings, on the edge of the bridge.”

“What are you reading?” Jaehyun poked Hansol. They were still in their scrubs after a long day at the hospital. Hansol sat on his bed which was a meter away from his own in their small shared dorm.

“Don’t laugh… but it’s Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil.”

“Why would I laugh?” Jaehyun asked whilst changing into his pyjamas.

“I don’t know… Don’t you think I look like a poser?” He shrugged half-heartedly and Jaehyun chuckled.

“Kinda… but you always do anyway, swaggering around with your stethoscope.”

“Yah! Is that how you treat your best friend?” He pushed Jaehyun off his bed.

“It’s exactly how I treat my best friend!” They spend the next minute just poking and playfully shoving each other, before they return to the lull of conversation. “Why are you reading this anyway?”

“Well… First, it was Psychology class homework. But it got pretty interesting so I decided to read another book.”

“That’s so unlike you.” Jaehyun shook his head in disbelief.

“I know right!”

“It must be deep.”

“It’s deeper than the Indian Ocean.” There was sarcasm there and a bit of good old Hansol style cynicism for all things too academic. This meant though he found it an engaging piece, it probably made no sense.

“You don’t understand a thing, do you?” Jaehyun leaned in to ask, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. Not surprised that his friend was indeed being a poser.

“No, absolutely not! Nietzsche writes as if he speaks and he speaks like a fifteen-year old on steroids with Lucy in the sky with diamonds. And I've read Rumi.” Hansol scoffed and dropped his book before plopping back onto his bed. “This is so tiring.”

“It is. But that’s okay. We’re in this together, right?” Jaehyun reached and extended his pinky finger. The other does the same, their fingers met and interlaced into something warm and tight, the feeling of invigorated friendship. Complete with all the soul-searching vibes of the Breakfast Club.

“Of course.” Hansol replied, eyes smiling. They try not to laugh too loudly that night whilst watching Grey’s Anatomy because it was too dramatised and the walls were too thin.

In his past, Taeyong was merely but a small boy that liked to arrange his colour pencils. He had gone through all of his colouring books. Every night, when his room would be locked and the shouting would start, the crystal vases would shatter, the bedsprings would squeak, Taeyong would arrange his colour pencils in the exact same order. Whilst grasping the pencils in his little fingers, he would try to ignore the voices; loud, and clear and sharp. His parents always said such mean things to each other. He would rearrange them to pass the time, into cool tones and warm hues and if he got bored, he would move on to other things; his clothes, his toys, the books on the shelf until their spines ascended up like stairs to the window, up to the heavens and he would sit there and bear it all and look at his precious moon. And he would pray. He would pray to anyone.

When he got older, he came to realise that no one was there to hear his prayers, let alone some figment of fatalistic human manifestation that presided over them in the sky would care about his misery. He also realised what was happening, sometimes his father would come home drunk and just pass out on the sofa. Sometimes they would lock Taeyong in his room until one of them remembered about his existence. Other times, he would be used like blunt ammunition in a meaningless war, his parents liked blowing hot air around as if he actually mattered. He didn’t like it when his name would repeat over in the fights. The little bubble of a world he had created would burst and he would push the pencils away and hug his pillow. He already felt worthless as it was.

“It’s all your fault he’s so quiet!”

“My fault? You never did anything for Taeyong!”

And moments like that would ; because he would be pulled back into the reality of his ty life.

At the point, when he began to hang out with the wrong people and sneaking out a lot, he tried to do something. His father had gotten worse, blatantly hitting his mother in front of him. The thing that grated him the most was that he didn’t hit him. And his mother didn’t say a single thing. And she pushed him away despite his begging. And his father continued his infidelities. He did not understand that kind of blind love. And blind pain. He did not understand why his mother stayed, because it certainly wasn’t for him.

“We could go. Anywhere. It would be fine. We could make it. I could support us both-” His words were cut off as his mother’s palm connected with his cheek. It stung. The pain of being slapped by his mother would never disappear.

“Don’t ever say things like that again.” She had hissed.

And he never did.

Maybe Taeyong never fully understood the pain of being abused. But he understood the pain of being abandoned.

When his mother finally left, she left no note or message or even a ing heads up; goodbye, I’m leaving.

It felt severely similar to when Jaehyun walked out that door.

"They found him." Doyoung panted when he got off the phone and Jaehyun sighed in relief.

"Thank god. Hurry, let's meet him there." Jaehyun tugged him to the door.

"Jae... They found his body." Doyoung said blankly and stopped him.

"What?"

"He's dead, Jae."

"What? This is some joke, right? This is some huge elaborate hidden camera you guys orchestrated and he's going to jump out of the closet and surprise me. Right?" He smiled, amused, laughing nervously and looking around like he didn't believe Doyoung's words.

"Jae..."

"Jokes over, guys! Hansol, you better come out now." He paced about.

"Jae, he's gone." Doyoung’s voice took a grim turn and he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

"Don't say that! He's going to come out. He should come out. He would never leave me to face this hellhole alone." The smile slipped from his face, and he looked at Doyoung with shaky eyes.

"They found his body by the Han River."

"Hansol would never! He wouldn't leave me like this! He would've never left without saying goodbye. He's my friend! He's your friend! So don't ing tell me that he's gone because he's not!" Jaehyun yelled, crumbling into a mess of tears and shouting his throat hoarse.

Doyoung pulled him into an embrace but Jaehyun kept fighting against him, angry tears streaking his face.

"I'm so sorry, Jae. I know he meant the world to you."

"No no! Hansol would never leave me! He would never do this. He would say goodbye..." Jaehyun felt something being ripped away from him. As a doctor, he faced death everyday, patients died every day. But this was different. This hurt on another level. He goes limp against Doyoung as he cried, straining to contain his grief.

Because Hansol never told him he was hurting. Hansol never frowned or cried or hint at his inner turmoil. The Hansol he knew read weird literature that normal people didn’t get. The Hansol he knew made terrible jokes and didn’t know how to operate a camera. They would spend their nights gawking at terrible dramas. Hansol smiled and waved and wished him goodbye every time they would part.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye."

“Hey, I checked everywhere I could think of.” Doyoung caught up with Seulgi at the entrance of the hospital. She looked haggard and the youth seemingly wiped away from her usual bright positive energy.

“Same. He’s not anywhere. Taeil’s going around Hangang but he hasn’t spotted anyone yet.

“This is insane.” Doyoung gritted.

“Who was the last to see him?”

“That would be Taeyong. But he’s not been exactly useful.” He bit back.

“Don’t mind him. He’s on edge.” She placed a soothing hand on his shoulder even though she herself was a quiet effervenscent wreck.

“If Jae... if Jae really is... there would be news about it. There would be something. But there’s been nothing.”

“Taeyong, you have to tell us what happened when he left. How was he? Was he upset?” Seulgi asked softly, but hurriedly, eyes begging him to speak.

“I-I can’t” Taeyong stuttered, unable to piece a complete sentence. He just couldn’t think.

“No. You won’t!” Doyoung flared, temper rising by the second as he eyed Taeyong in distrust.

“Doyoung, calm down! This is not the time for this.” She pushed Doyoung back so that Taeyong focused solely on her. Grasping his hand, she willed him to look at her. “Taeyong. Taeyong, look at me. You have to tell us what happened. Please.”

“He forced himself on me. He was drunk and I think he snapped out of it and then... and then he left.” Taeyong all but managed to eke it out in a small voice.

“ing hell, Jae.” Doyoung cursed. “Where else could he be? This makes no sense!”

“He must be somewhere...” Seulgi assured him, squeezing Taeyong’s hand. He thought deep and fast because god knows where Jaehyun might be.

God knew.

“I think I know where he might be.”

He who fights monsters might take care lest thereby becomes a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.

Jaehyun was staring into an abyss.

It was his own personal black hole.

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t that hard to become a monster, no radioactive spills, or spider bites or damnation by jealous gods. Jaehyun just had to look into a mirror to find that. His own abyss was clearer than day. He was a monster. And in his rage, he had destroyed the one thing he held dear.

Jaehyun can’t seem to shake him off. If he closed his eyes, Taeyong would be there under his eyelids; waiting for him. Haunting every waking and un-waking thought. Staring at him with those accusing eyes of hurt. That hurt.

“Hansol-ah, are you there? Have you gone? Or are you waiting?” Jaehyun asked softly, eyes closed.

No reply.

“I’m not sure if you know. But you probably know. You know everything. I hurt someone. Someone very precious.”

Silence.

“You would’ve liked him. He’s soft spoken like you and he’s so beautiful that it’s sad. He has the nicest hands and the kindest heart and I… and I hurt him, Hansol.”

Nothing.

“I t-think I love him. That doesn’t matter now. But he matters.” He let out a sigh, a lump building up in his throat. “Loving him matters. Yes, that’s it. I love him.” Jaehyun pried his eyes open and blinked back hot tears. He felt someone sat next to him and through his bleary eyes, he saw Taeyong.

“You’re here.”

Oh great, now he was seeing things.

“Yeah. Hello. I don’t deserve to even think of you and now I’m seeing you and I’m going insane. But it’s okay, you’re not really here.”

“But I am here Jae.” He said, sitting so close to him that their thighs bumped into each other. Jaeyun must be dreaming because Taeyong doesn’t look upon him in contempt or hate. He looked confused, but there was a tenderness there; like there always was in between their quiet nights. Jaehyun felt especially stupid when he blinked and blurted out the first thing that crossed his mind:-

“You’re not a ghost.”

“Well, I’m not dead.” Taeyong shrugged. Jaehyun couldn’t stop blinking.

“I wish I was dead.”

He’s not lying.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I never mean things.”

Jaehyun can’t keep his eyes anywhere relatively near Taeyong so he focused on the little niche nooks of the columbarium. Hansol’s in one of them and also Taeyong’s father. It felt paradoxical to be sitting like this where it all started. Perhaps their relationship was never meant to work out. It was easier to believe their relationship was tainted by death. They met at the most depressing of circumstances; it would only be fitting if it ended here; amongst the deceased.

Though he had promised himself to never visit his dead father, Taeyong made an exception. It felt somewhat ironic that their relationship was steeped in death and heartbreak from the start. But he was still worried, actually borderline terrified that Jaehyun would have pulled some stunt. But luckily, he did not. And seeing the elder like this, like the broken soul he was; Taeyong cannot bring himself to hate him.

“Ten told me about Van Gogh recently. He said that Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint, because he thought it would lift his spirits. There’s no correlation really to eating paint and finding happiness. People thought he was crazy but strangely, I got it. It’s like doing drugs or drinking alcohol. It doesn’t matter if it’s toxic because it feels good. Really, he should have just bought some champagne. I mean he did live in the middle of France.”

Jaehyun lets out a sigh that sounds like he’s about to laugh or to give up on life entirely, but Taeyong continued his little story time, unwavering, kind of rambling nonsensically.

“It sounded stupid and I thought Ten was just too addicted to Tumblr at that point. So I researched and turned out he didn’t really eat paint to find happiness. I mean... He did eat paint. But it was because he wanted to kill himself. Even with that tragic plot twist, I still got it. It reminded me of what you said, right here, a few months back: that it is better to be consumed by something you love rather than die at the hands of something you hate. And maybe that’s why I’m still here. Maybe that’s why I stayed all this time. Because you’re the yellow paint I’m not supposed to eat. And the doctor I’m not supposed to . And you’re the moon that is so very painful to look at but I still do it every night. And it makes the longing even more poignant and even more tormenting.”

Jaehyun still can’t look at him because he doesn’t think he can handle all these magnanimous feelings in his miniature heart. He was trembling. The gap between them had become so fragile.

“Please look at me.” Taeyong whispered. His hand hovered over Jaehyun’s unsurely.

“Looking at you will make me cry.” He can’t speak as well.

“Then cry. Because I don’t want you to look away.” Taeyong touched his cheek and tilted his head to look at him, to really look at him. It all spilled forth like a chanson from Jaehyun’s lips, those words he held back for so long.

“I love you. I lied. About everything. I lied to everyone. I lied to you. I lied to myself the most because I was so afraid that someone would leave again. And I was afraid because I would never be enough. And I’m just...” He was crying by then, tears trekking trails down his pale cheek, over Taeyong’s fingers. But he says it again, with finality because Taeyong is kismet and hurricanes and this starry-eyed boy who deserved the truth.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Taeyong broke into a smile and it is heart-wrenchingly beautiful and devastatingly melancholy all at once. Jaehyun could die like that. Being held like that.

It still hurt; to know that Taeyong knew all along. That he was content with how he treated him. He had stayed. Jaehyun really was the scum of the earth and he felt immense guilt over his disregard.

Because it was love.

And Taeyong knew that.

He had always known.

But Jaehyun had raged against it like he could topple skyscrapers and move mountains when he couldn’t even control his damn feelings. He had tried to defy the fabric of nature and the woven tapestries of fate and he had denied Taeyong of something real. Something that was already there. And he doesn’t deserve this kind of pure innocent love.

“I’m so sorry. I hurt you. You can leave. No, you should leave. Don’t let my mistakes hamper any-“

He did not get the chance to finish his sentence because Taeyong’s lips are on his, all velvety and supple and real. He did not hesitate to kiss back, still crying, still regretting. But he does not regret this. He grasped onto this.

Taeyong pressed Jaehyun’s hand to his chest, just above his heart and he smiled up to him. It was enchanting, leaving him gasping and warm to the tips of his toes.

“This. This is how much I want to share with you. Every heartbeat, every breath, every second, we only have so much. And I don’t care. I never did. Whether you returned my feelings or not, because being happy for a little while with you has always been enough. Being happy at the little moments is how I lived. It’s how I survived. Maybe that’s a sad way to live... but it’s the only way I know how to.”

“I’m so sorry. Please don’t ever leave.” Jaehyun tightly gripped him, sobbing into his chest; overcome with emotion.

“It didn’t matter if it hurt. Because I love you. Because it’s you.” Taeyong whispered into his hair, and he is crying now too.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

“I wanted you so bad. But it didn’t feel right. Like I was undeserving and you had your whole life in front of you. And I wouldn’t be able to take it if you… if you left.” Jaehyun looked up to him like a small child and Taeyong brushed his tear-stained cheeks.

“To want is very very different from to have.”

“What about both? What if I want to have you? Does that make me selfish?” Jaehyun mumbled.

Taeyong’s smile that came next is blinding. Absolutely blinding. Like the rays of the sun setting outside the window in the horizon.

“Not at all. I quite like being wanted. And I’m quite willing to be yours.” He chuckled, shaking his head adorably.

And Taeyong is pulled into another kiss.

It was from that moment on that their lonely hearts awoke from the deep chill of unforgiving frost, passing by the edge of winter, before blooming into a riot of wild flowers, dawning into days of spring.

They remained there.

Intertwined.

Author's note:

I hope you guys get twice the amount of feels I got writing that. Seriously, This better hit you in the goddamn feels kay.

Well... it's almost over... but not yet! Stay tuned ~

Please leave some lovely comments. I'd like to read them and reply when I can. 

As always, lots of love and thanks for reading!  <3