"It was a great time," Myungsoo admits, holding Naeun's hand in his own pocket as they walk down the street. Cars rush by, honking even as the traffic light turns red, and Howon pushes the button for the crosswalk. "I didn't want to like him, we were fine on our own, but he added so much color to us."

Ryosuke's splashes of color onto the black-and-white canvas of Howon, Myungsoo, and Naeun's relationship, colored with messy crayon and acrylic paint, messy like a five-year-old's magnum opus, holding too much and yet too little meaning at the same time. It was clear blue like the sky under which they first met, fluffy white like the clouds that had passed by and blocked the sun for a brief moment, enhancing the glow that always shone from him. Howon knew that he'd had Myungsoo charmed, because he'd smiled a genuine smile, not the polite dimpled stranger-smile, but the wide toothy friend-smile.

Naeun hadn't been much harder to win over either; it took one deep bow from Ryosuke and a 'this is my friend' from Howon and she was in, accepted him into the friend group like a mother hen accepted chicks, and that had been that. The stage was set, the players upon the Earth, and everything else simply needed to fall into place.

"I wonder..." Naeun's breath forms clouds in front of her face, and she pulls her scarf up to cover her nose. "I wonder where he would have been now."

Howon glances at her. There are visible lines in the corners of her eyes, and though she still looks perfect, pristine, he can see the toll of age and time on her beautiful face. She's no longer young; none of them are. The weight of the past makes Howon's stomach churn, and his heart suddenly hurts.

Where would he have been? Back in Japan? Still in Korea? In China, as he'd always wanted? Would he be happy? Would Howon? Would Myungsoo and Naeun? Or had they never been sad at all?

No, that's not true. They were sad, Howon knows. But, twenty years ago, drowning in his own guilt and pain, he'd never cared enough to think of their feelings. He still doesn't want to. He wants to believe that they were at fault for the whole thing, that he himself was innocent, but he's no longer young, and he knows, deep down, that he had a hand in it as well.

A very large part of it. The entirety of it, in fact. If Howon had just kept his stupid mouth shut, none of it would have happened, and maybe they'd have suffered a bit then, but they certainly wouldn't still be suffering now. Things would have smoothed over, and life would have gone on.

The screech of tires jerks Howon back to reality, and Naeun holds out her hand, tugs on his arm, and together, they cross the road. The light turns yellow, counting down with impending doom -- twenty, nineteen, eighteen -- and Howon can't help the shudder going down his spine. He'd done such a good job of suppressing the fear, and it took two seconds to break him again.

The only two people possible of tearing down his walls, and they'd done it, torn down all of them one by one, and Howon's emotions threaten to spill over the brim of his heart. He feels the telltale tug of his heartstrings in his stomach and rushes to stem the flow of tears, but it's too late.

---

If he had to tell the story from the beginning, he wouldn't even know where to start. Perhaps everything started in 1989, when the ides of March foretold the coming tragedy, or maybe it started in 1988, under the sweltering summer heat, or maybe it started before that, in 1987, when Ryosuke first walked into their lives on that clear October day.

October 15th, 1987. Howon remembers it like it was his own birthday. October 15th, 1987, the first day he met Yamada Ryosuke. The day would be branded into his mind for years to come, and he'd often dream of it. Underneath the impossible blue sky, the blazing leaves of the trees in the background, the crisp wind lifting the jackets of their uniforms, the small tilt to Ryosuke's smile as his eyes sparkled with something akin to amusement. The soft pink of Naeun's headband, the shining gold of Myungsoo's class president pin, the feeling of Ryosuke's hand in his as they shook him into the friendship.

And the smile, the small secretive smile Ryosuke flashed at him, long before he even realized what he was feeling. The only thing he knew was that he was enchanted by this fairytale of a boy.

He loved him, he really did, and Howon's heart hurts from the pure innocence of his memories. Beside him, Myungsoo and Naeun share a glance, communicating more than just words, and the knowing gaze of a boy long deceased flashes before Howon's eyes. He coughs, stopping in his tracks, and wishes the image and feeling away. The pain that pierces his heart is more than he'd ever care to share with his former friends, but by the pity in their gazes, Howon thinks that they know anyway.

"Stop it," he chokes out, taking a deep breath. "Stop it. I know what you're thinking."

"No." Myungsoo drops his gaze to the ground. Concrete, cold and rough, tearing at delicate skin, stained through with rust-colored blood. Howon will never forget the sight of the boy he loved lying on the ground, helpless and broken. "I'm sorry, Howon. It... we suffered too."

"Did you?" His words come out colder than he'd meant, and Naeun flinches. "Did you miss him? Or did you feel bad for doing what you did?"

Naeun bursts into tears, and Myungsoo does nothing to try to console her. Instead, he closes his eyes, lifts his face to the still-raining sky, and when he finally faces Howon again, his eyes are rimmed in red.

"I loved him too, Howon." His voice is thick with pain and grief, and his eyes shine with something more than just resentment. "I loved him too, as a friend. You can't deny that you most directly caused his death. Do you think we--"

"Stop it!" Naeun begs, clutching onto his sleeve. The makeup runs off her face in rivulets, and her mascara smudges under desperate fingers. "Myungsoo, stop! And Howon, you don't have a right to talk to us like that when you disappeared for so long, even when you knew we'd be looking for you. You don't care about us, you never did, and you didn't care about him either, did you? You used us, and when we became our own people, you stopped having a use for us, didn't you? You used us, and you used him too, so just stop talking about it!"

Her words feel like a punch to his chest, and Howon staggers backwards, unbalanced. "How... how dare you?" he musters, but his words are weak and baseless. Had he ever cared about Ryosuke? Or did he use him as he'd used Myungsoo and Naeun, as footholds for his own selfish needs?

"I... I'm..."

Sorry.