heart on your sleeve

Hyukjae doesn’t know much about Emotion Tattoos besides the fact that they’re very fancy pieces of body art. His sister tried to explain the concept a few years ago, when she’d been thinking about getting her own and had to convince her parents that, yes, it’s a great idea, and no, it doesn’t mean that she’s turned into a delinquent. She explained that Emotions were special tattoos that could reflect their owner’s feelings by changing shapes and moving around on their skin. Unique and constantly evolving, those pieces of art could depict happiness and anger and everything that existed in-between, effortlessly morphing into beautiful images that were loosely based on the original tattoo’s core. They were inked by certified tattoo artists in charge of creating the essence of the Emotion to which it was anchored.

Hyukjae had been skeptical about the idea at first, and within reason. Strange tattoos that could reflect people’s feelings and change shapes on their own? That sounded like a cheap and convoluted marketing scheme stolen from a bad sci-fi book. But then his sister got hers done, and he had to admit that he’d been pleasantly surprised by the result. It was lovely twinkling little stars inked on her right ankle, like a sort of bracelet. They would shine brighter when she was happy, sometimes even sputter stardust and wander around her calf, and would dim down in intensity when she felt down, gathering sadly into a barely moving circle.

Even to this day, years after his sister got her Emotion, Hyukjae can’t help but feel a little impressed. Body art really did make an impressive leap in innovation with those tattoos. He doesn’t fully understand the science, but he knows that some kind of technology is infused into the ink in order to make it possible.

Hyukjae’s never particularly cared much about getting his own Emotion though. They’re pretty and fascinating, there’s no denying it, but he’s never felt more than mild interest for them. It’s a vague thought that he never bothered to think about much more than necessary. He does see Emotions sometimes, peeking over the collar of a random somebody in the subway; running idly over the fingers of a colleague at work. They make him pause in wonder, only for a second, before he goes back to minding his own business.

So, no. Hyukjae doesn’t particularly care much for Emotions. That is, until he meets Donghae.

*

Hyukjae isn’t quite sure how he should describe Donghae. The only words that come to mind are superlatives, which is mildly embarrassing for everyone involved.

Donghae is a new employee at work. He wears casual clothes and sneakers to the office, uncaring of the odd looks that he gets from the company’s higher-ups. His hair always looks a little disheveled as if he just woke up, and there’s always a mischievous little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Donghae’s such a sharp contrast to the crisp formation of the company’s other employees that Hyukjae can’t help but feel drawn to this strange persona, with his strange hair and dangerous smile. There’s something wild and untamed about Donghae that fascinates him.

They start off as friendly but not quite friends. Maybe they’re getting there though, Hyukjae thinks. Maybe it’s only a matter of time, he dares to hope, as he spends yet another lunchbreak with Donghae; yet another coffee break with Donghae; yet another reunion stealing glances at Donghae. It’s an odd friendship that Hyukjae feels a little confused about. Donghae is always there, somewhere, at the back of his mind, and at first it’s only the vague excitement of making a new friend. But then it morphs into something else, an everchanging sort of feeling that scares and thrills him all at the same time. Hyukjae doesn’t know what it is—but he’s sure that he’ll find out soon enough.

They start by having lunch together every once in a while, then by getting drinks often, and finally by texting almost all of the time. It’s nice, it’s peaceful, and Hyukjae thinks, this is good.

*

And then one day, as the sun shines bright and warm on a typical summer morning, Donghae comes to work with a dark look on his face. His hair is even more disheveled than usual—less like it’s intentional, and more like he ran a hand through it out of frustration too many times. His hands are curled into tight fists by his sides as if he has to hold back from punching the nearest thing in sight and he only grunts short, sharp replies to anyone who dares to approach him.

Hyukjae stays quiet, unsure if they’re friendly enough to ask what’s wrong. Even though he wants to go and comfort him, Donghae looks like he has all of his walls up and no intention to let them down. Maybe he really just wants to be left alone.

All the way across the room, Donghae sighs. He closes his eyes, looking exhausted, and then runs a hand through his hair again.

That’s when Hyukjae sees it—Donghae’s Emotion. It peeks from under the left sleeve of his shirt, dark and keen-edged around his wrist, slowly growing towards the back of his hand. The art is a mess of sharp, scattered lines that look like thin knifes digging painfully into his skin. It looks angry, restless, frustrated—almost like a disease that’s spreading throughout his body.

But it also looks beautiful, and Hyukjae can’t help but stare. For some reason that he can’t explain, he feels a flush color the back of his neck as he admires the dark ink on Donghae’s golden skin. Hyukjae blinks dazedly as he half-wishes that he could look through his shirt to find the tattoo’s core and admire its details.

All he can see though, is the end of Donghae’s Emotion as it continues to develop over the back of his left hand. It looks dangerous, almost painful, and just a little threatening. Donghae’s face is clouded with a similar sort of painful unhappiness as his tattoo, thick eyebrows pulled down into a dark frown.

Hyukjae decides to leave him alone for the time being, and instead brings him a cup of coffee that he leaves on his desk without a word. Donghae looks up at him in surprise and then grins gratefully.

Around his wrist, the sharp, angry lines of his Emotion seem to soften just ever so slightly.

*

The second time that Hyukjae sees it, it’s raining.

The bright sunshine of the past few days has well and truly vanished; in its place, a long storm works to chase away the residual heat that’s clinging to the concrete and buildings. The sky now looks grey and terribly worn out as fat drops of warm water wash over the busy city. They form long rivulets of rain on windows, like a fleeting painting of thin branches made of water, and blur the scenery that stretches out far into the distance. It’s an odd sight to be admired, inspiring both calmness and weariness even in the most restless mind—some kind of feeling that’s caught in-between two opposites and doesn’t quite have a proper name.

Hyukjae sits at his desk in silence as he stares outside the window distractedly. He feels a little listless, as if he’s been floating through the day, his mind lost somewhere miles away from his work. Just as he toys with the idea of getting an iced chocolate—even though he knows it’ll ruin all his chances of getting anything done—, Donghae wanders to his desk to give him some documents.

“Hi,” he says in a soft voice, almost like a secret exchange that doesn’t want to disturb the rhythm of the pouring rain outside. He grins at him, small but warm, and Hyukjae smiles back a shy smile.

They watch the rain fall over the city together. It’s quiet, it’s nice, it’s peaceful—and Hyukjae thinks that he wouldn’t mind if it lasted for just a second longer. Then Donghae shifts slightly next to him, releasing a soft sigh that catches his attention.

Hyukjae glances at Donghae distractedly—and almost gasps in wonder.

Beautiful long leaves are sketched across the base of Donghae’s neck. They’re thin and drooping a little, curling idly towards his collarbone beneath his loose shirt. They seem to flutter slightly on his golden skin but only barely, rocked by the whims of the wind that’s blowing outside—or maybe it’s only Hyukjae’s imagination. Each leaf glistens softly as little drops of water hang off its tip, and it’s as if rain has fallen onto Donghae’s skin and gotten imprinted into the tattoo.

It’s beautiful, Hyukjae thinks, entranced. Then, almost as an afterthought, he remembers to look down at Donghae’s hand. He’s not disappointed—it looks amazing.

Long, glistening leaves are drawn across the back of his hand as well. They’ve reached farther than the angry, sharp lines that Hyukjae saw last time. This time they’re almost touching his third knuckles, looking a little melancholic and also a little languid, but also beautiful and soft and so delicate that Hyukjae desperately wants to touch them. He stops himself just in time, looking up to meet Donghae’s eyes instead.

They’re soft and beautiful, too, just like his pretty leaves. They look content and peaceful, but also a little distressed, as if his peace of mind comes with the price of dull pain. But it seems worth it, it has to be, if the way that he avidly drinks in the sight of the rain is of any indication.

Donghae stares and stares and stares for a long while, until he seems to remember that he’s still standing at Hyukjae’s desk. He blinks, looking a little lost and confused, as if he’s unsure if he should go back to work or stay here and keep on admiring the listless rain a little longer. Finally, after much hesitation, he glances one last time outside the windows and then leaves sadly.

And Hyukjae understands, then, that Donghae’s Emotion is bittersweet.

*

The days slowly melt into September. The sky is a bright blue stained with streaks of white clouds, while the weather remains warm and toasty. Generous sunshine and the sounds of singing cicadas animate the late summer, offering a lovely farewell gift before crisp, cool autumn breezes settle in. Early mornings have indeed started to feel slightly cooler already—or maybe it’s just a tweak of imagination that dreads the cold. Nevertheless, the next season is just around the corner and Hyukjae feels a little sad about it.

Donghae, on the other hand, looks more cheerful than he’s been in a long time. A playful smile tugs at the corners of his thin lips again, promising trouble and mischief, while his eyes shine with zest for life. He jokes and teases and laughs cheerfully with people, and it’s honestly kind of beautiful.

Hyukjae flushes slightly at his own thought. He watches in mild embarrassment directed at himself as Donghae strolls around the office with grace and nonchalance, effortlessly drawing attention like a magnet.  His hands are put away in the pockets of his pants, while his right sleeve has been rolled up to his elbow and reveals a strong forearm. His skin is smooth and looks like liquid gold in the warm sunlight that’s shining through the windows. There’s no Emotion inked there—only tantalizing, flawless skin, like a blank canvas preserved for future art.

Donghae kept his left sleeve pulled down to his wrist. But Hyukjae sees his Emotion anyway, as his eyes are now used to catch the little hints of tattoo ink hiding beneath his cuff. Today, the art gathers into a great yet beautiful mess, and reaches as far as his first knuckles. The details are tiny, lovely little heart-shaped leaves that flutter eagerly along with Donghae’s excitement. Some of them even fall off their thin branches, almost as if they’re being swept off by their enthusiasm.

It’s beautiful and lovely, and Hyukjae finds it oddly endearing. He smiles a little and then hurries to hide it by looking down at his keyboard. Somewhere in the office, Donghae releases a loud, pleased laugh that makes something ache softly within his chest.

Donghae is happy today—and Hyukjae realizes that he will be as well. 

*

“You’re being unreasonable,” Hyukjae says as he rolls his eyes. He moves along after giving his order to the cafeteria lady, and Donghae follows him closely.

“No,” Donghae insists, “I’m really not. It’s perfectly normal, in fact. Who wouldn’t like a nice cup of coffee over some chocolate piss, huh?”

Hyukjae accepts his iced chocolate from another cafeteria employee with a thankful smile. “Well,” he then says to Donghae as he raises his cup, “there’s me, apparently.”

“Yeah, but you’re weird,” Donghae rolls his eyes. Ignoring Hyukjae’s protests, he pays for both their drinks and wait for his own coffee to be prepared. “Coffee is life; life is coffee. It’s a simple equation.”

“You’re obviously horrible at math.”

Donghae laughs. “Shut up.”

He’s about to launch himself into another long monologue on why coffee should win over chocolate any day, when someone behind him accidentally bumps into his back. He stumbles, thrown off his balance, and almost drops his coffee all over his white shirt. Hyukjae reaches out to steady him by his left arm. Donghae stiffens slightly at his touch, eyes wide and confused as they find themselves staring at each other.

Almost instinctively, Hyukjae glances down at Donghae’s wrist. Sure enough, soft, smooth lines are running idly across his tanned skin. They seem to freeze under his curious eyes, much like Donghae did a second ago. Then all of a sudden, they blur and shift and curl, and their shapes start to change.

Hyukjae watches, fascinated, breathless, as the art evolves right in front of his eyes. Thin, knotted branches spread across his hand and all the way to the tip of Donghae’s fingers. They curl and settle lazily, taking their time to find a comfortable spot. Little flower buds then start to grow along their extremities. Hyukjae’s eyes widen in admiration, entranced and amazed, as some of the buds seem about to bloom. He opens his mouth to ask—about the art and the beauty; the magic; wants to know about his Emotion, when—

—when whoever bumped into Donghae starts to apologize profusely. Flustered, Donghae turns around to tell them, oh no, don’t worry, it’s okay!

And the magic is broken.

*

Hyukjae doesn’t like to have his feelings out in the open. He likes to keep them to himself, nestled up somewhere close to his heart and behind his smile, where they’re easier to hide—he wants to keep them away from the curious eyes of anonymous crowds, and unlock them only to those that he knows truly care about him. But even to his closest friends and his own family members, Hyukjae feels quite reluctant to talk about his feelings. He’s never been very good at opening up in general, a flaw of his that a lot of people reproach him for. His tendency to bottle up his feelings is one of the reasons why he feels hesitant about getting an Emotion. Sometimes, however, as frustration and unhappiness build up painfully inside him and he doesn’t find the courage to open up to someone, he thinks that maybe it’d be easier if he didn’t have to worry about talking, and only had to show.

Donghae, on the other hand, wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s so very full of warmth and openness and love, that it somehow just makes sense that he’d have an Emotion. On the golden canvas that is his skin, the beautiful, complex tattoo is inked such as an everchanging painting of his feelings.

Hyukjae hasn’t seen it in full yet, but he already knows that it’s beautiful. He wonders, sometimes, as he daydreams and catches himself thinking about Donghae and his Emotion, where the tattoo’s core is—is it on his inner wrist, tiny in its essence but free to grow as it pleases? Somewhere on his forearm? Above his elbow, on the curve of his strong muscle?

Hyukjae desperately wants to know, wants to ask so many questions—but he also knows that Emotions are something precious and a little secret. They might be all out in the open, but they’re also something incredibly intimate and cherished. Most people don’t ask about them unless their owners breach the topic first.

So Hyukjae doesn’t ask. Instead, he only watches; admires; gazes in fascination as Donghae’s emotion moves and flutters listlessly across his skin.

*

Hyukjae used to date a girl who had an Emotion. It was elegantly inked on her ribcage, just below her left , where it snuggled softly along its delicate curve. The original art depicted a strong but lean panther, with dark, intense eyes and sharp teeth. It looked just as pretty as it also inspired a sense of danger, like a silent warning not to mess with her. Just like Donghae’s, her Emotion would change shapes along with her feelings. It would be a cat, slow and sensuous, when she was feeling seductive; a purring feline when she felt excitable and happy; a roaring tigress when she was angry.

Very few people had the opportunity to catch even a glimpse of her Emotion as it was most of the time hidden by her clothes. Hyukjae had been lucky enough to see it regularly, even touch it. He thought it was pretty and intriguing, but his appreciation for her tattoo never went beyond mild interest and a curious urge to run his fingers along the length of her panther from time to time. There wasn’t any desperate hunger rumbling in his stomach to fi