o u r  p a g e ;

Unforgiving. That was what the heat felt like as it burned into Taemin’s skin that Saturday afternoon, and Taemin thought to himself that maybe, just maybe, wearing a black muscle tank top with black jeans hadn’t been such a good idea after all. He locked the car and rushed towards shelter in double time, squinting his eyes in response to the blinding rays of the sun. Once he’d entered the florist on the ground floor of a mall in Dongdaemun, he heaved a sigh of relief, swiping the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead.

“Good afternoon, sir! How may I assist you?” A salesgirl clad in a white uniform with a green apron greeted, bowing slightly with a customary smile stamped across her face. Taemin smiled back—always treat those that help you well, he thought—and scanned his eyes around the small shop. His eyes rolled up as he tried to recall exactly what he needed.

“I need a few things, actually,” he began. “Flowers. I need flowers. A nice, bouquet of flowers. Oh and candles, if you have any.”

The salesgirl, Ahra, nodded politely.

“Do you have any preferences of what flowers you want?” she asked, hands clasped. Taemin shook his head.

“No preferences. Just something pretty.”

Ahra nodded again before hurrying down an aisle with Taemin in tow, past rows and rows of flowers, both real and fake. They reached the back of the florist, where Taemin found himself standing opposite a large fridge full of colourful bouquets of different sizes. He stared, overwhelmed by the range of choices, before setting his eyes on a medium-sized bouquet of white baby’s-breath wrapped in a lilac floral tissue.

“How much is this one?” he asked, pointing at the bouquet, never taking his eyes off it.

Ahra glanced where Taemin’s finger pointed and smiled. “That one costs ₩50,000.”

“I’ll take it.”

At the counter, Taemin whipped out his wallet and began to flip through his notes before pulling out the exact amount he needed for the bouquet. Took me faster than I thought it would, he thought, handing Ahra the money.

“There’s a store next to the bakery on the second floor that sells candles,” Ahra said, handing Taemin a paper bag. Taemin received it gingerly, worried that he might crush its content. He frowned. What else do I need to get again? Candles, maybe cake and… He bit his lip. What was it? He looked at Ahra and noticed the surgical mask pulled over his mouth. Oh right. Flu pills.

“Is there a pharmacy nearby?” he asked, sliding his wallet into his back pocket. Ahra stared at the ceiling, trying to remember.

“Yes,” she finally answered after what felt like eons to Taemin. “There’s a pharmacy four stores down this stretch, if I’m not wrong.”

Taemin bowed gratefully. “Thank you so much. Thank you so, so much.” He bowed again and again as he feebly made his way towards the exit, holding the paper bag in front of him so as not to bump it into anything on the way out. As soon as he’d exited the florist, he sighed contentedly, glancing at his purchase. I hope he likes it, he thought. Flowers—check. Now we need cake, candles and a box of flu pills.

When Taemin pulled over on the porch of his house some one, two hours later, he noticed that the house was unusually quiet and dark. The curtains were drawn, and the frosted panels of the front door didn’t seem to show any sign of the ceiling lights being switched on, or of any movement within the house at all. He grabbed the bags of items he’d bought and ran up the steps to the veranda, pulling his house keys out of his pocket. Clumsily pushing the key to the door into the slot, he unlocked the door and entered, looking around.

“Hyuk,” he called out in a voice that resounded loudly within the walls of the house. “Hyuk, I’m home.”

There was no response. Taemin forced all the irrational thoughts that’d sprouted in his mind aside, kicking off his shoes. He locked the front door behind him and quickly climbed the stairs, knocking on the bedroom door.

“Hyukjae, I’m coming in…”

Taemin held his breath as he pushed the door wide open, but to his dismay, there was no one there. The room was eerily quiet. The bed had been made, the floor had been swept, and the radio, which would usually be blasting music at this time of the day, had been turned off. Taemin’s heart raced with anxiety. He looked around the large bedroom, searching for signs of anything else that was unusual, before noticing two things: 1. The bedroom window was closed. Hyukjae never closed the window, and 2. the bathroom door was shut too.

Walking towards the bathroom, Taemin cautiously placed his ear against the door and listened. There was a sound—the sound of helpless sobbing—echoing within the walls of the bathroom. It was Hyukjae.

The door wasn’t locked. Taemin carefully slid the door open, not wanting to startle Hyukjae, but as soon as there was a gap in the doorway, a strange smell filled the air and sent Taemin into frenzy. He smelled blood.

“Oh my god, oh my ing god, Lee Hyukjae!” Taemin lunged at the bathtub and carefully pulled Hyukjae out of the water, horrified at the sight. Hyukjae had been sitting in a pool of red water, and next to the tub there were an assortment of dangerous items—rusty razor blades, glass shards and what not. Every item was tainted red.

They fell to the floor with a thud, with Hyukjae on Taemin’s lap, and Taemin cooing and hushing his friend, rubbing his cheek tenderly. Taemin ignored the man’s arms; he couldn’t bear to look. Instead, he combed through Hyukjae’s hair in a bid to comfort the sobbing man.

“I’m here, Hyuk. I’m here,” Taemin cooed, running his fingers through Hyukjae’s brown hair. “I’m here now. You’re not alone. You have me. You have me.”

Hyukjae continued to wail, his face scrunched in anguish and hysteria. “I saw him, Taemin, I saw him. He was going to kill me.”

“He’s gone, Hyuk.” Taemin reassured, never taking his eyes off Hyukjae. “He’s long gone. You’re safe with me now, Hyuk. You’re safe. I promise.” They rocked back and forth on the cold bathroom floor for as long as it took for Hyukjae to calm down. His wailing became softer as each second passed, and even then, Taemin kept cooing and hushing him. It wasn’t the first time that this had happened, but it never got easier coming home to this sight no matter how often it had happened. In fact, Taemin would usually make sure he never left Hyukjae alone at home in case anything bad would happen, but he’d made an exception that afternoon because Hyukjae had been down with a cold. How he wished he hadn’t made that exception.

After Hyukjae had calmed down and started sniffling into Taemin’s shirt, snot and saliva dribbling down the front of his face, Taemin helped him up. He was mindful of Hyukjae’s arms, of course, not wanting to hurt him anymore than he’d already hurt himself. He helped Hyukjae clean up and change into a fresh set of clothes, before doing the same himself. Then he ushered his Hyukjae out into the living room, getting him to sit on the couch comfortably with the television before rushing to the kitchen to make them both some hot chocolate.

When Taemin returned fifteen minutes later, Hyukjae was lying down underneath a thick, plaid blanket that had been pulled up to his nose, staring at him.

“Feeling better?” Taemin asked gently, sitting down on the couch space next to Hyukjae’s torso as he placed two mugs of hot chocolate on the table in front of them. Hyukjae nodded, his glistening eyes wide and unblinking, and Taemin couldn’t help but to smile. Despite the scare from earlier on and how badly swollen Hyukjae’s eyes were, looking at Hyukjae made Taemin’s heart swell. As long as Hyukjae was by his side, everything would be okay.

“Still want to do it?” Taemin asked, nodding towards the bags of items he’d purchased at the mall. Again, Hyukjae nodded, pulling the blanket south slightly, revealing his pursed lips. He sat up slowly, stifling groans of pain as he struggled to push himself up. His arms ached so, so badly, and just the sight of him struggling made Taemin wince. He’d seen how badly Hyukjae had hurt himself, and even though the marks on his arms were now hidden underneath the long sleeves of his sweater, Taemin couldn’t help but to shudder.

He emptied the bags onto the table and watched as Hyukjae glossed his eyes over them, slack-jawed.

“Thank you,” he muttered, reaching out to touch the bouquet of baby’s-breath. Taemin looked away briefly; somehow, even after all these years, it still hurt that Hyukjae needed him like this, that Hyukjae still wasn’t able to let go. He accepted it, though. He’d told himself long ago that he’d do whatever it took for Hyukjae to be free from the shackles of his suffering, even at Taemin’s expense. And so, for the ninth year since Donghae’s death, Taemin watched helplessly as Hyukjae began to arrange the candles, cake and bouquet next to a framed photo of the beast. Hyukjae clicked a lighter and lit the candles. The whole scene looked like some sort of vigil.

"Saeng-il chukahamnida," Hyukjae began to sing, his voice shaking, "saeng-il chukahamnida, saranghaneun Donghae-ssi, saeng-il chukahamnida." He stared at the photo and smiled, caressing it as one would an actual person’s cheek. Then he blew out the candles, a pained smile etched across his face.

Taemin hung his head. It most definitely still hurt even after all these years.

“I hope you forgive me, Hae.” Hyukjae whispered.

Three days later, Taemin and Hyukjae strolled down a river side by side in silence as the sun descended into the waters. The sound of dry leaves getting crushed beneath their feet as they walked was their only other companion, and once they’d made it past the park’s sixth lamppost, Hyukjae headed towards a bench facing the river and sat down.

“What are you thinking about, Hyuk?” Taemin asked as he took his hands out of his pockets, sitting next to Hyukjae. A brief silence filled the gap between them. After a few repetitions of opening and closing his mouth like a fish, probably in contemplation of what to tell Taemin, Hyukjae finally spoke.

“I’m thinking about you,” he said softly. He stared at his hands, fidgeting for a while before turning to stare at Taemin, burning holes through his soul. “I’m thinking about why you’re still here.”

Taemin shrugged. “Why I’m still here? What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” There was a pause. The wind howled ominously, as if warning what would come next. Hyukjae continued.

“I treat you so badly, Taemin, so, so badly. I’m always so volatile; one second I’m okay, then the next, I’m bleeding out on the bathroom floor, crying over a past I can’t change. I make you run errands—really ed up ones—and celebrate the birthday of a lost lover year after year, a lover who abused me, a lover that wanted me to die, but died first. You lie next to me in bed and wake up every night whenever I talk or cry in my sleep, and you take me everywhere because you know I can’t be left alone. Not once have you taken advantage of me. Not once have you touched me when we sleep next to each other. Instead, you’re always doing things for me.. Always making sure I’m comfortable, that I’ve eaten, that I’m okay… You don’t have to do these things for me, but you still do, and even after all these years, I treat you the same. You don’t deserve this.”

Taemin swallowed. They’d had similar conversations during the course of the last nine years since the tragedy, but it had never been this intense. They usually just skirted around the topic and left it at that, no answers or conclusions whatsoever. For some reason, however, this time felt different. Taemin couldn’t sense what was coming, and it scared him to death.

“What do I deserve, then?” he asked, staring at the river. His chest ached. His gut told him that Hyukjae finally wanted to say goodbye, that all his efforts had gone to waste. And if he really did want to bid Taemin farewell, if it really was what Hyukjae desired, Taemin knew he couldn’t say no. It was Hyukjae’s life after all, and Taemin was but a friend to him all this time. He had no say in what was to come.

Hyukjae sighed. He rolled up his left sleeve and rubbed his fingers over the bumps on his arm; bumps that represented all the afflictions he’d struggled through for more than a decade under the wrath of his late husband, and thereafter. He pulled his sleeve down.

“You deserve the same love you give. You deserve someone who showers you with affection, who takes care of you the way you take care of me, who looks at you with doting eyes…..just like how you’ve looked at me all these years.”

Hyukjae’s voice was full of conviction, but his eyes, his sad, sad eyes, were filled with tears.

“You deserve someone who can melt away your pain just by the sound of his voice. Someone who’d make you breakfast everyday, kiss you before you leave for work, and kiss you when you return. You deserve someone who brings you happiness, always, and doesn’t throw you into a fit of panic everytime something goes wrong. You deserve someone who can give you all of these things, Taemin. Instead,” he paused, his lips, “instead, you chose me. And you chose me, because…..”

“Because?”

“Because you love me.” Hyukjae concluded.

“Because I love you,” Taemin echoed, shoulders sinking. His eyes had begun to fill up with tears, too.

Hyukjae slid his hand across the bench and reached out to touch Taemin’s, pulling it into a firm hold for the first time in all the years they’d known each other. He interlaced their fingers, looking down and shaking his head slightly.

“It’s been nine years, Taemin,” Hyukjae said solemnly, his soft voice slightly drowned out by the sounds of the waters lapping against the riverbank. “Nine years is enough. You deserve better than me.”

“No, I don’t.” Taemin argued, choking up. He dug his fingers into Hyukjae’s palm. “I don’t.”

Hyukjae smiled weakly. “Yes, Taemin. Yes you do.”

Another brief pause divided them. Only then had they realised how lively the park was; children were running and playing gleefully in the distance, their parents watching closely. Tiny boats sailed along the river, carried along by the gentle current, floating. Nearby, a couple was sitting on a bench at just like theirs, sharing a kiss. All of this was happening around them and yet all they could really pay attention to was each other, engulfed by fear and uncertainty.

“You deserve so much better than me, which is why I’ve decided.”

Taemin's first tear fell. No. Please, Hyukjae. Don’t do this to me. Please. I can’t lose you. I can’t.

“I’ve decided…” Hyukjae’s voice trembled. He closed his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed several times, and his lips had begun to quiver. He tightened his grip on Taemin’s hand.

“I’ve decided to leave.”

Taemin wriggled his hand free of Hyukjae’s grasp and turned, clutching Hyukjae’s arm instead. His brows were raised and the tears fell, one at a time, hot and hurried. His mouth was dry and his heart—oh his heart—ached with a pain like never before.

“Hyukjae, please don’t do this to me, I beg you!” He whined, shaking Hyukjae’s arm. “I’m not asking for anything in return! You don’t have to reciprocate my feelings! Just let me take care of you, please!”

Hyukjae bit his lip. “Hear me out, Tae—”

“I love you, Hyukjae! You know I have, and even if you don’t feel the same way for me, it’s okay! Just….. Please! Please don’t leave me like this!”

“Taemin…”

“You’re all I have left!”

“Taemin.”

Hyukjae’s voice was firm. It snapped Taemin out of his delirium instantly, sobering him up. Taemin froze and let go of Hyukjae’s arm, reminding himself that he would do whatever was best for Hyukjae. Even if it’s the worst for me.

“Give me a chance to speak, Taemin.” Hyukjae fiddled with the hem of his sweater and clenched his jaw. “I’ve decided to leave... I've decided to leave my p-past, not you. I’ve decided to forget Lee Donghae. No more grave-visiting, no more birthdays… No more moping around the house, or staring at his framed photograph on the altar. After today, I will try my best to move on…..for you. You deserve a better version of me, Taemin.” He looked up, and reached his hand out to wipe the tears that stained Taemin’s cheeks.

“You deserve a better version of me than the one I’ve been since the first time we met in college. You really do.”

And just like that, Hyukjae held either sides of Taemin’s face and leaned in, planting a long, hard kiss against Taemin’s lips. He could feel Taemin melting under his touch despite how tensed and delirious he’d been only moments before, and soon, Taemin too, reached out to hold Hyukjae. Neither of them could ignore the way the sensation of their lips—and hearts—colliding electrified their veins. Even Taemin, who'd gone a long while accepting the fact that his feelings would never be returned, was surprised at how that kiss alone reignited the flames of hope that had turned to ash many years ago. When they finally pulled away, Taemin hung his head and darted his eyes, unsure of where to look. His face had gone red.

“Are you s-sure…” he began softly, barely a decibel louder than the howling wind, “are you sure you aren’t doing this out of pity?”

Hyukjae dipped his head to look Taemin in the eye. He touched Taemin’s chin and lifted it, smiling.

“I’m sure,” Hyukjae reassured, rubbing his thumb across Taemin's jaw. “In fact I’ve been sure for almost a year now. I just... I needed time to grieve, and to convince myself that all those bad habits had to stop. Nothing good came out of clinging to the ghost of someone that hurt me, because all these years, that same ghost blinded me from the one that’s been here all along.”

Taemin leaned back, iffy. “So no more birthdays?”

“No more birthdays.”

“What about the altar?”

“I’ll get rid of it, and everything that reminds me of him. Everything.”

"Even the photos of you and him?"

"Even those."

Taemin pursed his lips, unsure of what to say. Then he reached for Hyukjae’s left arm cautiously and rolled up his sleeve.

“No more hurting yourself.” He said firmly, tracing the bumps on Hyukjae’s arm with a worried look plastered across his face. “Please.”

Hyukjae grimaced, tugging his sleeve over his knuckles. “I’ll try, Taemin. I can’t control myself sometimes, but I’ll try. It’s just….it’s just that I don’t think I’ll ever really forget those bad memories. Whenever they come back to haunt me, I panic and hurt myself. I feel like he’d never forgive me, so I punish myself. I wish I could fight the guilt.”

“I know. And I know that even though it’s over, it’s hard to accept it even happened in the first place and move on but….. I’m here. I’ve always been here. Forgive yourself, Hyukjae. Whatever happened… You were trying to protect yourself. Nothing less, nothing more. From now on, I’ll protect you.”

A faint smile painted Hyukjae’s face.

“Thank you.”

Taemin shook his head. “There’s no reason to thank me. I should be thanking you. Despite everything, it’s you that taught me… t-taught me what love is. I stayed by your side because you stayed by mine too.”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Hyukjae uttered, his voice low and filled with shame.

“No,” Taemin objected, shaking his head again. “I’m sorry I could only wait and watch. I wish there’d been something I could do to ease the pain… But the only way I knew how, was to take care of you. I just hope that was enough.”

A hollowed laughter escaped Hyukjae’s lips.

“More than enough,” he reassured, squeezing Taemin’s hand. “You’re more than enough for me.”

The sun was gone, and in its place glowed a beautiful crescent moon, lighting up the dark night sky like the chandelier in a ballroom. They sat in silence, taking their time to register everything—what they’d said, how they’d felt, what they sensed ahead of them—and smiled. They were hugging now, embracing the warmth of their skins against each other. For the first time since they’d seen each other in the small restaurant near their college all those years ago, Hyukjae was resting against Taemin’s chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. Taemin, on the other hand, tried his hardest to calm himself. It all felt so surreal.

“I love you,” he managed, waiting with a bated breath for a response that he worried he wouldn’t receive.

However, that night marked the start of many firsts, this being one of them:

“I love you too,” Hyukjae whispered in return. "So much."

Thus began the first page of a brand new book, one that they would take their time to fill in for the rest of their lives, starting from tonight. Our page, Taemin thought.

THIS FIC IS PART OF A 3-PART SERIES:

Who Waits for Love | Electric (Prequel) | Our Page (Sequel)