03: one door away

Irene never comes back for her lamp. Mingyu has no idea why since she said she would come back, but he honestly doesn’t stay up making theories for the reason. In fact, he’s grateful. Now he has a lamp in the living area and in his room; he can finally sleep without the dark or study like Vernon—lying down with his feet up on the wall. The nights are not as suffocating as they once were, and coming home becomes less of an obligation but rather, a celebration. He loves the click of the lamp, the sight of the light, the imaginary warmth.

It’s a shame, he thinks to himself, that he hasn’t seen Irene since that day. Although he literally has nothing solid to give to her that can she can benefit from, he is a person capable of returning favors. He can tell her to put tape across the window bottoms because they let in cold. He can fix her shower if the knobs come off. He can even cook her something—but she has to provide the materials.

His small share of happiness, however, fades into nothing but worry when he comes to class and Vernon is not in the unassigned assigned seat next to his.

Vernon has always been that one kid who shows up on time, apologizes for “not being early enough,” or calls in advance if he is on death’s door and literally cannot attend an event or lecture. The fact that Mingyu received no form of communication from either Wonwoo or Vernon himself makes his heart drop. Something like this happened a few years ago when Wonwoo didn’t show up at school because he contracted salmonella. Wonwoo nearly died (or at least, that’s how Mingyu remembers it), and every unjustified absence after that suddenly started to weigh a lot more.

“Hey.” Wonwoo catches up to Mingyu after class ends. “Where the is Vernon? He didn’t text me or anything. Did he text you?”

Mingyu checks his phone again, but the only notification he has is of an email from IKEA and their new collection of furniture. “No. I was actually going to ask you that.”

“Well, .” Wonwoo checks his phone too. “Where could he be, though? It’s literally Thursday. He was here yesterday and the day before.” They stand by the admissions office silently pondering when Wonwoo proposes a radical idea. “Do you think he got sick from his job? He cleans houses. Maybe he inhaled asbestos or something.”

“Okay, well, asbestos isn’t going to stop Vernon from texting us.”

“I know, but what if he’s at the hospital? And they won’t let him see his phone?”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Mingyu frowns, and then he smiles. This is the first time that he knows something Wonwoo doesn’t. The first time he might be a little smarter than his friend. “You should know. We’re about to be lawyers in a few years.”

Wonwoo doesn’t acknowledge it. “We have to go to his apartment.”

“Hey, but if he’s sick,” Mingyu protests, “we shouldn’t just barge in on him like that.”

“Why are you like this?” Wonwoo scoffs at Mingyu’s words. He then shoves Mingyu and strides towards the street. “You’re supposed to be his friend. Brother, even.”

“It’s not that I’m not concerned, but maybe we should relax a little bit. He wouldn’t want us to get worried about him. You should know,” Mingyu points out. “You got angry us for scouring the neighborhood for you back then.”

“I guess.” Wonwoo pushes past other students laughing at a poster for a play and then curses at freshman still walking around with their maps. “Get out of my way, freshie.” Of course, the freshman doesn’t move, and Wonwoo curses some more.

Mingyu follows his friend with ease. Having longer legs enables him to get to where he wants as he pleases—even if everyone always tells him to “slow down.” It has been a long time since Mingyu had a reason to walk fast anywhere. Sure, there were times when he was running late, or maybe he was rushing to get free donuts, but those weren’t real reasons. Those times, he was walking fast because he didn’t want to get left behind. This time, he’s walking fast because he has a purpose that isn’t related to himself.

Wonwoo, already like a true New Yorker, doesn’t stop at the crosswalk. He strides across without looking in any other direction but forward, and Mingyu has a heart attack the entire time he’s walking towards the other side of the street. By some miracle, no cars hit them, and Mingyu can take a breath of relief.

The streets are always crowded in this part of Manhattan. Mingyu wonders what the story of each person is each time he rubs shoulders with them. Wonwoo tells him it’s a waste of time, Vernon sometimes join in with making up crazy theories, but Mingyu takes the thought seriously. For days, he could write in a journal about the people he has seen and their possible stories.

A taxi stops by the street, and a man emerges from it with his fist in the air. As Mingyu walks past the scene, he hears swearing from what he presumes to be the driver of the taxi and a woman who happened to cut him off. That’s the thing about average New Yorkers. They always have to be someplace else.

After a good ten minutes of fast paced walking, Wonwoo and Mingyu reach a subway station.

“Do you have your card?” Wonwoo is already taking out his card from his wallet. Meanwhile Mingyu feels sorry for himself because he no longer has his card.

“I left it at home,” Mingyu lies. He takes out a five-dollar bill and hands it to his friend. “Can you use your card to pay for me?”

Wonwoo glances down at the five-dollar bill like it’s something Mingyu picked off from the ground. “You’re kidding me. You do realize I’ll just pay for us, right?” Wonwoo swipes his card twice at the gates and shakes his head. “Come on, Gyu, we don’t have time to waste.”

Their specific route to Queen is not as cramped as it usually is, so they get seats instead of having to give it up to a pregnant woman or the elderly. Their train takes a stop here and there too, but only a few passengers come and go. Still, the ride to Queen takes over an hour long. When they finally get off, Wonwoo is itching to get to Vernon’s apartment complex.

They soon arrive at Vernon’s apartment complex—a dull, gray building with clotheslines outside some of the windows. Mingyu is sure that hanging clothes like that is illegal, but he isn’t one to judge; he used to do that anyways. Once they enter the building, the smell of bleach hits Mingyu right in the nose. A janitor is mopping the wall, and a container of bleach is in his hand.

Wonwoo runs up the stairs because Vernon only lives on the second floor.

“Vernon!” Wonwoo screams into Vernon’s door once he gets there. His fists slam against the terribly painted wood, making Mingyu think that the poor door might break. “Open the up!”

Vernon’s neighbor, a woman smoking a cigarette outside of her apartment, glances at Wonwoo for a second, but she quickly puts her attention back to her phone. The disturbed dust from Wonwoo’s banging floats around him and settles invisibly on his white shirt. Mingyu coughs it back up, but his friend is a little more relentless.

“Vernon, you little ! You can’t just ditch your friends!”

“Hey.” Mingyu is more self-conscious than Wonwoo. He moves Wonwoo aside and gently taps against the door. “Vernon, are you okay? We didn’t see you today, and you didn’t text us.”

No one answers, and Wonwoo raises his fist in the air to slam the door again, so Mingyu presses his ear against the door. Wonwoo lowers his hand, and Mingyu hears nothing but white static through the wood. It is so quiet that he might as well be hearing dust float around in Vernon’s apartment.

“He’s not here,” Mingyu concludes with a sigh. He pulls away from the door and glances at the stern-faced Wonwoo. “He’ll call us, though. He wouldn’t just leave us hanging.”

“Fine.” Wonwoo scoffs and crosses his arms. “But he’s so dead.”

Although Wonwoo says that, Mingyu knows that under any rough exterior he may have, there is a heart of gold more compliant and malleable than melted steel.

- - - - -

When Mingyu comes home after visiting Vernon’s Vernon-less apartment, he comes at the same time Irene is unlocking her door. A large bag overflowing with groceries is by her feet, and she mumbles angrily under her breath. Mingyu watches silently as he walks closer from the elevator. Irene drops the other bags she had hooked in her arms and punches the lock of her door.

“You need any help with that?” Mingyu finally asks when he’s close enough.

“Hm?” Irene glances at him with a quickly plastered on smile. “No! It’s fine, really. The door is just being difficult.”

Mingyu still remembers the day he moved in to this building. It involved a lot of jiggling of doors and shower knobs as well as taping of cracks by the windowsill. While he takes a strange sort of pride in figuring everything out fairly quickly, Irene can’t say the same—yet.

“I bet.” Mingyu laughs under his breath. “Here, let me help you out.” Irene moves aside for him, and he jiggles her key and the lock lightly. It’s tight but not stuck. “You might want to put oil in your lock,” Mingyu says as he unlocks the door. “It might be really rusty inside which is why it feels tight.” He opens the door for Irene, and a waft of flowers and other sweet-smelling scents flow outwards. “Um, so there you go, I guess.”

“Huh.” Irene sighs. She picks up a bag of groceries with strain evident on her arms and breath. “Thank you so much. The landlord wasn’t picking up.”

“Oh, don’t ever bother trying to contact the landlord. I’m pretty sure he’s violating all sorts of city guidelines, but he doesn’t really care.”

Irene’s face visibly falls, and though Mingyu knows it’s not his fault, he feels guilty.

“So, uh,” he proposes, “do you need any help with putting this inside?”

“Um…” Irene looks at the bags of groceries by her feet and then inside her apartment. “No, it’s alright, I can manage. Thanks for the help anyway.”

“No problem.” Mingyu shrugs and smiles at her, and she returns it with pressed lips. But just before she heads inside, he remembers her lamp. “Wait, do you want your lamp back?”

“Oh, that?” Irene stops in the doorway. After a brief moment of hesitation, she shakes her head. “Please, by all means keep that old thing. You need it more than I do.”

“Really? You mean that you’re giving it away? For free?”

Irene tilts her head and scrutinizes Mingyu in a way that causes him to feel uncomfortable. “Of course. There are no strings attached to my kindness. Have a good day.”

She shuts the door, and her perfume lingers in the air.

- - - - -

Dean’s smoke wafts into Mingyu’s apartment, kissing the furniture, and prompting Mingyu to go outside and talk to his rather pessimistic friend.

“Hey,” Dean greets Mingyu without looking in his direction when he has headed down the fire escape. “What have you been eating? You’re looking well.” Dean takes a long drag of his cigarette and finally glances at Mingyu. “D’you find a girl? Get into film school?”

“No.” Mingyu shakes his head and smiles. “I just got a new lamp.”

“, I wish I could get happy off buying new lamps.”

“Maybe you could—but with something else.”

Dean snickers and taps the of his cigarette. Ashes fall over the railing, but he gives no care for it. “You’re a weird one, Ming. One second you’re sad and mopey and the next you’re all smiles. It’s almost…” Dean shudders. “It’s ing weird. Cool, but weird.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu grins. “I’m just really happy. I got a new lamp.”

“At the rate you’re going, you might as well date that lamp.” Dean scoffs. The smoke emerging from his mouth looks cinematic, like he may be a dragon, and the streetlamps around them are the dragon slayers shining light upon his crimes. Into the atmosphere, the smoke goes. And then it fades into the hazy night.

- - - - -

Vernon makes a reappearance after a day of unexcused absence, and it is only after the last of their classes that he actually greets them with a hello. By then, it is more than enough for Wonwoo to blow up on his friend.

“You’re so dead!” Wonwoo punches Vernon in the arm, and the latter winces but keeps his head low. “What the , bro? We literally thought you were dead. You weren’t answering our texts, calls, or your ing door! What kind of messed up is that?”

“I’m sorry.” Vernon shrugs. Mingyu tries to make eye contact with him because he knows that Wonwoo is a little overbearing from time to time, but Vernon is insistent on keeping his eyes away. “I got caught up in a lot of stuff, and I had to work extra because rent went up and just—it’s been really ty.”

“And that’s your ing excuse?” Wonwoo spits. “It’s been , and that’s why you couldn’t tell us where you were? That’s a load of bull. Right, Gyu?”

Mingyu nods slowly, feeling like a deer in headlights. He hates taking sides like this, but it’s not like he has a choice. (He’s sure that Wonwoo would punch him if he shrugged indifferently.)

“Look, I’m telling you,” Vernon sighs, raising his hands. “I had work and was so ing tired I could barely move.”

“That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t answer your calls as soon as you could!” Wonwoo drags Vernon into an alley because nearby passersby of a busy New York street have begun to stare. “You need to tell me—and Mingyu!—the truth. Now.”

“That is the truth,” Vernon insists. “You have to believe me.”

Mingyu eyes his friend with suspicious eyes. He wants to believe Vernon, he really does, but he can’t. Vernon looks otherwise healthy and not at all tired as he claims to be. His clothes aren’t dirty or wrinkled like he has been cleaning house—in fact, Mingyu might even say he’s wearing nicer clothes than usual. And then there are the bruises and hickeys on Vernon’s pale neck that he couldn’t conceal with the collar of his shirt. Though Mingyu long accepted the fact that his friend might be having constant hookups or a girlfriend that he might be embarrassed to introduce to poor friends, it’s still an unsettling sight.

“I’m not going to believe to you.” Wonwoo pulls at Vernon’s collar to reveal the rows of bruises lining the base of his neck and lower. “What the , dude? Are you seeing this ?” He elbows Mingyu in the stomach. “You have a girlfriend, don’t you, Vernon?”

“No,” Vernon replies sullenly.

“You know what, I don’t give a ,” Wonwoo claims, taking his hands off his friend. “I get that you don’t want to introduce us because we’re embarrassing and poor, but you can’t let her get in the way of your studies.”

“No one—nothing—is getting in the way of my studies.”

“You missed class yesterday, hello?”

Vernon rolls his eyes and sighs. “That was one time.”

Wonwoo scoffs and pushes Vernon against the dirty alley wall. Vernon winces once more, but Wonwoo doesn’t take notice as well as Mingyu does. “Listen,” Wonwoo whispers fiercely into Vernon’s face, “we don’t have time for distractions. Remember that. When you’re dying of Latin terms and stupid professors, remember that we don’t have time to stop and complain. Our families need us. We need us. This is the only thing we have left.” Wonwoo releases his tight grip on Vernon and shakes his head in disappointment. “Now, this. I’m going home and making a study guide.”

Wonwoo doesn’t wait for Mingyu and Vernon to gather up their strewn emotions and heads out of the alley in quick strides.

Mingyu stands by his friend who is somehow breathing heavily and wincing here and there. “You okay?” he asks, and Vernon answers with a wheeze. “Vernon? Hey.”

“I’m fine.” Vernon shrugs after composing himself. His face is emotionless, and once more, he keeps his eyes away from Mingyu’s. “I swear to God, Gyu, okay? Just leave me alone. I’m going home.”

Leave you alone?

Vernon walks out of the alley. Unlike Wonwoo, he turns to the left instead of the right. It’s strange to Mingyu because they all live in the same area. They all turn right if they want to go home.

A harsh pang hits Mingyu in the stomach and then in the heart. After years—a lifetime, even—of friendship, Vernon has never lied to him (at least, not that he knows of), but there is a first for everything.

- - - - -

Wonwoo’s anger subsides within a few days, and Vernon reverts back to his old self with snarky jokes and remarks (and overall loud mouth). Mingyu, on the other hand, is now the one stuck in his own funk. They were going through a harder unit—though short—in criminology, and his first quiz score wasn’t the best (in fact, it was terrible). Vernon volunteered to help him study, however, so now they’re on their way to Mingyu’s apartment.

Irene is by her door with her keys already in the lock. “Hey, Mingyu.” She waves to him.

“Hey, Irene.” Mingyu returns her wave with a smile.

He unlocks his door and enters his apartment with Vernon following behind. Once they’re inside, and the door is firmly shut, Vernon elbows Mingyu in the ribs and snickers.

“What the hell was that? You finally know her name?”

“Ow.” Mingyu rubs his side and pouts, causing Vernon to laugh. “First of all, she’s my neighbor. I’d be a jerk if I didn’t know her name like I knew everyone else in the building. And second, she gave me that lamp.” He points to his now cherished lamp by the table. “I had to know her name to thank her properly.”

“Oh, I see you.” Vernon winks at Mingyu despite what the latter thinks to be an innocent explanation. “I’m into the whole ‘neighbor next door’ thing. I think it’s cute, actually.”

“But it’s not like that at all!”

“Not yet.” Vernon winks again and again until Mingyu slaps him on the back.

“You know,” Mingyu says after Vernon has calmed himself down, “we’re always studying. I wish we had more free time to just hang out…have fun.” He looks around his rather stale and empty apartment. “I wish I had speakers in here. Maybe we could just dance around. That’d be fun.”

Vernon nods, sitting down in the couch and stretching his legs out. “That’d be great, but really? You said you want speakers? What about a girlfriend?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I told you a million times. No girl would want me. I’m poor. I can’t get her gifts or nice things like a normal boyfriend would.” He shrugs, the feeling tugging at him. “It would be nice to have one, it really would. But I’m nobody.”

“You know what?” Vernon throws a pillow at Mingyu who lets it hit him in the chest. “You’re delusional. Let’s just study.”

“It’s not being delusional.” Mingyu tries to defend his actions as Vernon takes out a textbook from his bag along with a pencil. “I’m being realistic, you know? We don’t call the weathermen delusional if they say that it’ll rain for an entire week.”

“But that’s different. That’s science. But what you’re saying…” Vernon clicks his tongue. A thought crosses his face, and he frowns. “It makes me sad, Gyu.”

- - - - -

“Hey.”

Mingyu’s neck snaps upward when he hears the voice coming from his right. While studying quietly on his fire escape, he definitely didn’t expect anyone to say anything from that direction. But he turns and sees Irene sticking her head out of her window, her hair a little messy, her lips curled up slightly. She waves and points towards his textbook.

“You’re studying out here again. Why?”

“Oh.” Mingyu suppresses an embarrassed smile. Although he has two working lamps now, he still likes the cool New York air and how it nips at his skin, forcing him to study harder than when in the comfort of his bed. “I just like it out here, I guess. It’s nice.”

Irene wrinkles her nose. “It smells like smoke and unwashed pavement.”

Mingyu suddenly feels foolish for liking the fire escape, but he still likes it. “I mean, sure.” He shrugs. “It’s not beautiful, but it’s comfortable. Kind of like our apartments, right?”

“Right.” Irene scoffs. She leans out further and outstretches her hand out towards the street. Mingyu worries that she’ll fall, but Irene doesn’t share the same concerns. Her hands reach further out, catching the breeze and letting it flow through her fingers. “It is nice,” she admits. “I could get used to this breeze. The lights. People watching.” She smiles up at him, her eyes twinkling. “Do you people watch too?”

“Uh, what?” Mingyu coughs, unfamiliar with the term. “People watch? What’s that?”

“Do you ever just watch people?” Irene nudges a shoulder towards the street where, sure enough, people are walking by and carrying on with their lives. “Just watching and thinking about what’s going on in their lives.”

Mingyu swallows his suddenly dry spit. No, he has never watched people. He never really found the time to do something so… Not only did “people watching” seem strange (creepy, even), it felt a little useless to him. Why would he watch people when he has a job, school, and a life? But the why Irene said it made him feel like he wasn’t normal if he wasn’t doing it.

“Not that I know of,” Mingyu admits. “It’s a waste of time, don’t you think?”

“Well, no.” Irene shakes her head and leans her chin on the back of her folded hands. “I don’t think wondering about anything is a waste of time.” She tilts her head at him, and slowly, her eyes go down to his text book. “But I forgot. You’re a college student, aren’t you? You’re always studying. You don’t really have time for the simple things.”

I can’t even afford the simple things. Mingyu forces his lips to smile. “Simple things and I don’t get along.”

“And why is that?”

“My life is just too complicated for them, I guess.”

“No, don’t say that.” Irene pouts, and Mingyu’s smile becomes genuine at the sight of that. “I’m sure you can find the time to enjoy the simple moments that life has to offer.” The corner of her lip tilts upward. “How about right now? Would you say that this is a waste of time? An exchange between me?”

Mingyu’s brain says yes, it is, and his heart doesn’t have opinion. But his heart thanks him for taking the time to talk to Irene since “studying” was beginning to kill him.

“Uh…” Mingyu shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Not really. No.”

“Then there you go. Your life isn’t too complicated for simple things.”

Mingyu tries to say something, but no words come out of his open mouth. Irene notices his speechlessness and blossoms in it. She grins widely before she lifts her head from her hands. Her hair that once danced in the wind is now still—much like the rest of the world around them.

“I hope you have a good night.” Irene waves at Mingyu. “Have fun studying.”

She withdraws to her apartment and shuts the window tightly down, leaving Mingyu to the white noise of passing cars and soft chatter below.

What the hell just happened? He thinks to himself. Mingyu shakes the thought away after a few seconds. Because maybe he does have time for the simple things. Because studying is a simple task that he must accomplish. (Despite his headache.)

- - - - -

“You gotta get off your fat , man.” Wonwoo throws his backpack onto Mingyu’s couch once he enters. “This is the fourth time this week that we’re at your apartment.”

“Maybe that’s his way of telling you that you need to work out.” Vernon locks the door behind him and unrolls Mingyu’s plastic mat. He places his water bottle on the corner to stop it from rolling back together. “I see you getting out your subway card more and more often. Where are you getting the money for that?”

Wonwoo smirks and wiggles his brows. “Who says they’re mine?”

“You mean, you’re stealing them?” Vernon gasps and points an accusing finger. Mingyu thinks for a second that Vernon will scold Wonwoo for stealing, but Vernon’s next words dismiss all theories. “I can’t believe you! Why would you do something like that and not tell me or Gyu? Hell, you could have given us some! I’m tired of breaking my lungs in two just to get to the bus on time.”

“Hey, when it comes to the hustle, you don’t have time to share.” Wonwoo sticks his tongue out at Vernon before taking his hefty binder out of his backpack. “So, did you guys have any questions about the guide I made?” Vernon shakes his head, so Wonwoo turns to Mingyu. “Gyu?”

Mingyu glances at Wonwoo’s eyes for a split second before shrugging and slumping further down in the couch.

“Hey, you good?” Vernon peeks from his law text book as he gets into his famous reclining position.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mingyu shrugs again and turns the page of his own text book. Truthfully, he doesn’t feel anything close to fine—but he doesn’t feel terrible either. He’s stuck in that state of limbo and indifference to the point where he has no desire to speak or move. Even breathing seems troublesome. “I’m just, uh, tired, I guess.”

“Tired?” Wonwoo raises a brow. “You better not be ing some girl, Gyu.”

“I am not.” Mingyu scoffs, offended at the thought. “I’m not that type of person, remember? I really am just tired. I had a long shift today, and yesterday’s exam made me feel like crap.”

“That’s not an excuse.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes, and Mingyu can feel his gaze searching for some sign as to why he’s “tired.” Wonwoo won’t find any, however, since Mingyu really hasn’t been seeing anyone, and he really did have a long shift at the convenience store. “Has anyone been mistreating you? Giving you a hard time? Because Vernon and I can go beat their asses.”

It’s Mingyu’s turn to roll his eyes. “Oh, please. This isn’t high school.”

“Oh god, high school,” Vernon mutters under his breath. “The blunder years.”

“I will beat their ,” Wonwoo reasserts his statement with a fierce conviction in his voice. “Remember that, okay?”

“Remember that one time you said that and Josh got angry because you bailed on him?” Vernon recalls the (ironically) fond memory of one of their high school tormentors. “Yeah.” Vernon smirks when he sees Wonwoo’s face go pale. “You used to talk so much smack on him until one day he got fed up and challenged you to fight. And what did your smart do? Oh, that’s right you ditched school the day of!”

“Hey,” Wonwoo snaps. “It wasn’t ditching if I physically could not go!”

“Yeah, because of what? Some made up illness? You had a flu shot? My .”

Wonwoo throws his pink eraser at Vernon. It hits him in the cheek since he is too busy laughing. “You know what? you.”

Vernon eventually calms his laughter, and Wonwoo manages to compose his anger and goes as far as chuckling off the memory. High school was a long time ago, and all the events that occurred within it were now suddenly so childish. Even a high school bully, on hindsight, seems like a stupid thing. Mingyu still remembers the panic attacks he had in the hallways, but even those feel like snapshots of something so foreign and old. Now the only bullies he has aren’t even people, and he doesn’t get panic attacks anymore.

To come to think of it, Mingyu actually has a lot of fond memories about high school that he holds closely to his heart. Marching band with Vernon. (Vernon played the saxophone, and Mingyu was in pit.) That one time in homecoming when he kissed Sana. Breaking in after school hours just to say that he did. Perhaps those things were childish, but the feelings they invoke in heart were anything but.

A part of him even wants to go back to high school. Life back then wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst either. It was the strawberry ice cream in a pack of Neapolitan. Not suspension in limbo or the mediocrity of purgatory. But not quite iced lemonade on a summer day. More of like a cool breeze in the shade.

“Hey, what are you think about?” Vernon nudges Mingyu foot. “You have that stare.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Mingyu shakes his head. “I’m just thinking of high school, I guess. We had a lot of good times.”

“Oh my, god!” Vernon suddenly perks upward. “Gyu! Do you remember that one time your mom threw us a mini-homecoming since we couldn’t afford tickets?” Wonwoo drops his pencil along with his jaw and points at Vernon, nodding in agreement. “That was amazing. Jesus Christ. I’m pretty sure our homecoming was better than anyone else’s.”

Vernon and Wonwoo start to chatter about their homecomings, and they leave Mingyu behind to his own thoughts. Their homecomings were great; Mingyu wishes he could relieve at least one of them once. He would give everything for one night on the rooftop where they watched a movie with a bedsheet as a screen and a borrowed (but maybe it was stolen) projector that played old movies from the 60s. It was great yes, but it reminded Mingyu of his mother.

His mother.

Mingyu sinks further down in his couch when an invisible weight sits atop his chest. It rises up to his throat, squeezing gently arounds his neck, allowing him to breathe but not to swallow. His hands are useless at this point, and he can’t even use a single finger to flick off a pound of the harsh weight.

His mother.

The room seems to darken, but the memories (oh god, the memories) only brighten. His mother. Sunshine so bright that it was still day in his eyelids when he closed them. A dirt path surrounded by tall stalks of grass. Thudding footsteps in sneakers that were rotting at the bottom. Shoelaces that flew in the wind and bounced atop the ground. One careless misstep and a bleeding knee. Tears. A lot of tears. Followed by gentle hands and comforting lips. Words. A lot of “it’s going to be okay.” Only one kiss and accompanying band-aid, and all is smiles again.

His mother.

Vernon and Wonwoo are still laughing about something, but now they’re showing pictures to each other on their phones. Mingyu gets up, and neither one of them says anything, so Mingyu rushes to the fire escape. Unfortunately, the air there does little to stop his tears. In fact, it feels worse.

- - - - -

On a lazy Saturday (and very early) morning, Dean invites Mingyu over to help him with a song. Mingyu honestly didn’t want to do it since he was in no way musically talented or informed, but Dean insisted—something along the lines of “you need to get out more often.” So, Dean took Mingyu up to the rooftop before the sun even rose and the fog lowered for inspiration.

“How about this?” Dean plays a short, simple riff on his black guitar. To Mingyu, it sounds the same as the one before, but he nods as if he understands. “Really?” Dean muses at Mingyu’s nods. “This one is in e-minor, so it’s kinda sad. Do you think e-sharp would sound better?”

“Sure.”

“Sure?” Dean shoots Mingyu a confused look. “That’s it? Okay.”

The fog hugs the two of them, and Dean’s music finds a way out of the embrace. Mingyu swears he can hear his mother singing. But the singing turns into whispers before Mingyu realizes that it is only the wind.

- - - - -

“Alright, so tonight we have to go to that seminar with Professor Woodsen.” Wonwoo says to Vernon and Mingyu as they stride through a long ha