They’d turned him out of the house. Myungsoo dwelled morosely on unpleasant flashes of memory: his father’s face, twisted into a frighteningly grotesque look he’d never seen before, anger and disgust warring for dominance over his expression as he yelled and yelled. The girlfriend watching proceedings with an unruffled, indifferent demeanour, the only giveaway to her nervousness being the way she slid her bracelet up and down her wrist, restlessly. He was gay? He was disowned. 

Myungsoo traipsed to the convenience store, hoodie drawn low over his face, hands jammed in his pockets. He had nothing but a backpack containing his schoolbooks, a few clothes including his uniform, his phone and iPod, and all his savings stuffed hastily into a wallet. And his credit card, although he had no doubt his father would block it soon enough.

A jingle, the brightly lit store, the cashier smiling at him. He avoided her eyes, their professional cheer jabbing at his loneliness. He wandered disconsolately between the shelves for a while before buying instant ramen and having it right there, and then he was out on the streets again. 

He walked on aimlessly for awhile, counting every street light he passed to keep himself from thinking, to keep the panic from swelling up. The sky congealed darkly. He moved closer to the street lights, acknowledging each one with a brush of his fingers.

It started to rain. He ran, taking shelter under the nearest awning. Next to a boy with plastered hair and shirt soaked until it was see-through. Drenched, shivering, familiar. The boy he’d loved from afar. The boy who made him realize he loved boys. Sungjong. From school.

“Hey,” said Myungsoo breathlessly.

Sunjong glanced at him as though he didn’t really see him. “Hey.” Empty-sounding.

“y weather, huh?” He wanted to walk over to the nearest puddle and drown himself in it. Of all the small-talk starters, he had to go for the ing WEATHER. 

“Yeah,” said Sunjong tonelessly. 

What now?

“Ah,” Myungsoo said eagerly, shrugging his backpack off one shoulder and balancing it on his knee to the front. “If you want a change of a shirt, I’ve got it.” He was plagued by sudden uncertainty- was he being weird? “I mean, it doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon, and we’re far from either of our houses.” 

Sungjong peeked at the mess of clothes inside. “You don’t want to catch a cold,” babbled Myungsoo, trying to keep his eyes from roving over Sungjong’s torso and the way the wet shirt clung to him. 

“We’re a similar size, too,” mused Sungjong, walking closer and rooting through the muddle in the backpack. Myungsoo felt his heart skip a beat, he was so close to him he could count his eyelashes and even the drops of rain clinging to them. Sungjong lifted his shirt over his head, and Myungsoo’s mouth went dry at the expanse of skin revealed to him. It struck him that he wanted to dip his tongue into his navel. He blinked rapidly and turned away before he could entertain more dirty thoughts, his cheeks heating up. 

“Thanks,” said Sungjong, buttoning up Myungsoo’s school shirt. 

“N-no problem,” stuttered Myungsoo, still recovering his voice. 

Sungjong considered his own shirt for a moment, then rubbed it vigorously through his hair before throwing it aside like he was abandoning it for good. He went back to gazing blankly before him. Myungsoo continued looking at him, then alerted himself to the fact that he was staring and also turned to the front. He rather hoped the rain wouldn’t cease. Right now, it felt like he and Sungjong were the only people in the world, in their own bubble, the rest of the world drowned out by the rain. 

Over the pattering woosh of the downpour he heard a small, choked sound. Strangled back before he could catch it. Wondering if he’d actually heard it, Myungsoo looked at Sungjong to see if he’d heard it too, and was surprised to see tears tracking their way down the boy’s face. Sungjong noticed that Myungsoo noticed. He bowed his head and walked out into the rain. 

After a moment, Myungsoo went after him. 

Sungjong quickened his pace, shaking with crying and the cold, but Myungsoo caught his wrist and he stopped, head still bowed. Myungsoo slipped his hand down his wrist, to intertwine their fingers. He was glad when Sungjong didn’t pull away. He squeezed his hand comfortingly, trying to convey all the warmth running through his blood. 

“I have to go,” said Sungjong quietly. 

“Let me come with you,” said Myungsoo. 

Nothing more was said as they walked on in the pouring rain, hand in hand. Sungjong led the way purposefully, as though he would fall apart if he didn’t reach there. Myungjong didn’t feel the time pass, as he treasured the feel of Sungjong’s hand in his, of just the two of them together. They must have been striding along quite a long way though, because when they turned in on a residential avenue, the rain had petered off. The houses here sprawled, hollow and ghostly. But the one they stopped at had all its lights on, juddering with beats and voices and feet. 

“We’re here,” said Sungjong. The front door flew open. Light, music, drinks and laughing high-schoolers spilled onto the lawn. One had only to step among them to be lost, to be borne along until dawn. Myungsoo grinned once they were inside the house. He jumped and moved around anyhow for a bit, letting energy loose, then slowed to the beat.
Sungjong let go of his hand and said, “I’m going to get drinks.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Myungsoo said quickly, then winced, hoping he wasn’t coming off as desperate or clingy. Sungjong showed no reaction however, as he wove through the crowd to the drinks counter, Myungsoo following him. They each got a beer, and Sungjong downed his in one long draught, needily. Myungsoo watched the rise and dip of his Adam’s apple with a different sort of need. 

Sungjong began dancing for the first time that night, his hips and limbs moving fluidly in enticing waves that travelled his body. Throwing all his prudence to the winds, Myungsoo rested a hand lightly on his waist, at which the other boy gyrated invitingly, flushed from the beer. Myungsoo experienced that delicious feeling again, of being alone in a bubble with Sungjong. The hordes of high-schoolers around receded into a tuned-out background, and even the beat was drowned out by the pounding of his own heart. The few inches of space between them stretched taut enough to break.

And then Sungjong snapped it cleanly in half, parting his lips and rising on his toes. Myungsoo was driftwood floating on a sea of radiance, anchored by Sungjong as they kissed.

A timeless minute later, they parted. Sungjong looked dazed, his lips even more tempting now that they were reddened and swollen from their make-out session. But then he blinked, took a step back, his eyes inscrutable and suddenly distant. “I’m sorry. I- I have to go,” he said, and his voice, usually so airy and soft, had a jagged edge sharp enough to bleed on. He whipped around and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Myungsoo spinning where he stood, anchorless.

The full assault of the noise and claustrophobic crowd impinged themselves on his senses once more. He couldn’t take it. He pushed through the way Sungjong had gone, supposing that the exit would be that way, since Sungjong said he’d leave; but it brought him to the staircase. A couple were making out on the landing. He made his way up past floor after floor, hoping there’d be a terrace. He needed air, dammit. 

He walked up the last set of stairs, spiral and rickety unlike the large marble slabs preceding, onto the rooftop. The sound of the party dimmed to a throbbing. There was already someone there- a boy looking out at the view of the city. Myungsoo looked too, from the scattered stars in the sky to the scattered city lights like reflections of the stars turned surreal, coloured more bright with their distances distorted. They didn’t seem astronomical in their outspread. They could be scooped up into the ambit of his gaze, small and insignificant compared to the blazing tangibility of the boy next to him. 

Though his heart jolted when he saw how close Sungjong was to the edge, he was more preoccupied with gazing at his back and at the jut of his shoulder blades now seen and unseen as the wind swelled and subsided in his shirt, gazing at his back and imagining it shirtless with shoulder blades like wings ready to sprout any moment. He imagined his collarbones, though he couldn’t see them just then he’d stared at them often enough to commit them to memory- imagined them just as sharp, budding smaller wings, like anklewing equivalents. The bones in his ankles, and in his knuckles, putting forth wings as well. Wings, wings, wings. He would be a flappy, feathery spectacle if he winged it off the rooftop. 

Myungsoo kicked off his shoes. The slats hurt, but he had a better foothold now. He stepped gingerly over, holding his hands aloft to feel more balanced, to stand closer to Sungjong, even if he didn’t feel any closer. In the hazy darkness, his eyes seemed more luminous, and moist because of the way he faced the faraway lights. Dewy doe eyes reflecting everything in miniature. His lips, slightly parted as they had been before they kissed, trembled in the wind. His hair that already flopped over his forehead flopped some more. He didn’t notice Myungsoo. 

Until he spoke.

“You can’t jump off,” he said, “Because I’ve found you and I love you.” 

Sungjong turned to him, his expression unseen in the darkness. Myungsoo’s nerves stretched taut enough to break. Sungjong took a step forward, into Myungsoo’s arms. Buried his face in the crook of his neck, shaking with sobs that he could no more strangle back. 


 

the end


Absorb that. Feel the feels.
And now for the sequel, straight from Myungsoo's mouth:



Ever after.