A tall young man wandered around the park that was filled with cheerful and bright children scampering around. The damp grass bended under his feet as he walked, his stoic face a dark contrast from the laughing little ones. It was beautiful day in Seoul, the sun shining brightly with a thin layer of clouds keeping it from getting too warm. Yes, it was a beautiful day, but not for the one named Oh Sehun.

The young man continued to walk along a pathway in the park, his brown, expressionless orbs taking in the sight of the children playing. Their mothers, and occasionally fathers, were sitting on benches, eating and more than like gossiping. There would also be the boasting and complaining of their respective children. What parents do to receive compliments on behalf of their children, Sehun mused, shaking his head in wry amusement as he wandered aimlessly around.

It was strange to think that only a week ago he was wandering around with someone else-someone who seemed so cold and heartless but was in reality so gentle and caring. A small smile quirked up Sehun’s mouth as he thought of the young man who had changed his life in so many ways. Kai. That was how he first came to know him as: Kai. It was short and simple, a glaring difference from the man himself. No, Kim Jongin was his true name, and it would be how Sehun would remember him.

Kim Jongin, the dark skinned young male who had captured Sehun’s attention when he first saw him.

Kim Jongin, the lithe dancer who could melt the younger man with just a passing glance.

Kim Jongin, the man who helped open up Sehun and helped lessen his hate against the world.

Kim Jongin, the ordinary university student that the younger man fell in love with.

Kim Jongin, and his childish fascination with bubbles.

Bubbles.

They were the very items that could hold Jongin’s attention for longer than anything or anyone, with the exception of Sehun. Even now, a week after the accident and three years of knowing Jongin,, the younger man couldn’t grasp how something as simple as something made up of dishwasher soap and water could keep Jongin’s interest for so long. The man would blow them and pop them, doing this for hours on end if he had the time. Sehun could still remember that one time they were on Christmas break and Jongin blew and popped bubbles for almost five hours straight.

Bubbles.

Sehun stopped short when something wet and decidedly sticky brushed by his cheek. He raised a hand to touch it, only to hear a small pop! as the thing burst and left virtually no trace of its existence, save for the now disappearing mist. Another bubble popped nearby, this time hear the tip of his nose. The young man’s eyes darted around, searching desperately for the source of these bubbles. He zeroed in the a lone child blowing bubbles, using the lid of plastic boxes that held streetfood to hold the mixture of dishwasher soap and water. Sehun’s face softened as he walked up to the little girl. Kneeling in front of the surprised but unafraid child, he asked gently, “Can I blow bubbles with you?”

The girl smiled widely and nodded, offering him another wand to blow the bubbles out of and placed the makeshift plate of dishwasher soap and water between them on the ground, granting him easier access to it. At least, easier in her still developing mind, as she had failed to take in the towering height of Sehun. Still, the young man smiled softly at the little girl and began to blow bubbles with her. It wasn’t long before he was transported to a memory that only he held now.

“C’mon, Sehun! Don’t be such a spoilsport,” Jongin coaxed as he blew another stream of bubbles, their iridescent surface reflecting the sunlight.

But the younger man only shook his head, claiming that he’d rather watch Jongin play with the bubbles. In a sense, Sehun wasn’t lying when he said that. He was always content just sitting back and watching Jongin do...anything, really. The dancer did everything gracefully; he even walked with a lilt, rhythm and cadence coursing through his lithe body. No, there was nothing Sehun loved more than to watch his lover.

Lover.

Even after two years, Sehun found to hard to believe that this beautiful dark-skinned man was his and his alone. After all, not many took the time to know the male who walked on campus donned in dark clothes and a seeming eternal hatred for the world. Yet, if only they knew what went on in his house, the house he could no longer call home. He had to be the one to provide for his younger sister, since his parents had proven to be less than competent in that department. There was no love lost between them, but he loved his younger sister more than anything, even after her death. In a random bout of alcoholic rage, his father threw an endless amount of empty beer bottles, whiskey glasses, and shot glasses at him. But, none of them hit their target. No. Instead, they hit his beloved younger sister, who had spread out her arms and stood unwavering in front of him, protecting him. Oh Sehun would never forget that day, the day that sparked a dark hatred within him and a deep fear of blood. He watched, horrified, as his sister stood bravely before him, taking in the attack. Broken shards of glass cut into her soft, milky white skin, dark red blood streaming from her temple and small cuts now engraved in her skin. Still, she held strong, until their father finally returned to the room their parents shared. They could hear their mother’s pathetic wails and her fruitless vows to leave him and never come back.

Then she fell.

His beautiful younger sister fell, her blood pooling all around her. Sehun caught her before she could completely crumple up on the ground. Tears streamed down his face as he watched the life slowly leave her usual lively eyes, eyes that were now looking at him with unconditional love. She weakly lifted an arm to lightly his cheek, using what strength she had to smile that bright smile of hers that she knew Sehun loved. Whispering, “I love you, oppa,” her eyes slowly closed and her hand fell from his cheek. Sehun could only silently weep as he held the body of his dead sister close to him, but he didn’t miss the faint smile that still graced her lips even as she passed.

So it wasn’t really any surprise that he held such hatred against the world, the hatred that Kim Jongin managed to dissipate with only a few smiles and glances.  Sehun had been captivated by the other male the first time he met him. It was a cliche meeting to say the least-he heard music coming from one of the dance studios he had passed by, and it happened to be one that he appreciated very much. Curiosity eating at him, he made his way to the dance studio and peeked into the slightly ajar door. What he saw caused his mind to go blank and all he could was stare speechless at the heavenly sight in front of him. It was Jongin, or Kai as he went by in the university, and he was dancing. But it was unlike any kind of dancing Sehun had seen-the balance of grace and power, the overall beauty of it was almost overwhelming.  Kai made it seem so easy and effortless, and it probably was for this dancing prodigy if the rumors circulating around school was anything to go off of. So lost Sehun was in his thoughts that he didn’t see Kai opening the door as he wiped the sweat off his face with a small white towel, sporting an amused look, until Sehun almost fell over with the door he was somewhat leaning on no longer in front of him. To say he was embarrassed was an understatement, and his tomato red face that only got redder with every passing second was burning with the idea that he had gotten caught watching a student dance, a student that he had never even talked to. But he attempted to convince himself that he was only overreacting, that it was perfectly normal to observe a fellow student dance.

Who was he kidding, he silently groaned to himself.

And it was right about then that he realized he had an audience, and he slowly, nervously looked up. And stared into Kai’s handsome face. The latter had been watching Sehun silent grappling with amusement, though it wasn’t unkind. In fact, Kai found himself rather intrigued by the young man in front of him. Sehun had a reputation as the “emo” kid, the “depressed kid”, around campus. But at the moment, all Kai could see was a student none too different from himself, intrigued with his dancing and possibly, just possibly, his handsome dark looks. Kai gave him a small smile, miles different from the usual smirk he gave everyone offered him his hand.

“Call me Jongin. Kim Jongin.”

Sehun was mesmerized for a moment by the dancer’s voice. Hell, even his voice was beautiful. Shaking himself out of his daze, Sehun shook the other’s hand and replied in a small voice, “Oh Sehun.”

And from then on, the two became close friends.  Jongin insisted on being known as Kai around school, claiming that none of them were special enough to know “Jongin”. But only one person was special enough, and that was Oh Sehun.

The day Sehun first witnessed Jongin’s fascination with bubbles was the day Jongin confessed.

“I like bubbles, Sehun, and I like you.”

It was that simple. That was all he said as he paused between blowing bubbles. It was stated simply. There was no trace of bravado in his voice, the confidence Sehun came to associate Jongin with, the hint of shyness Jongin only showed him in private. It was a simple statement, but Sehun could have sworn he felt those fireworks going off in his head like you would see in those cheesy dramas.

“Oppa, I have to go now.”

A little voice jerked Sehun from his thoughts and, feeling a small hand tugging the hem of his shirt, he looked down to see the little girl’s face smiling up at him.

Oppa.

Only one girl had ever called him that, and she was long gone now. Still, he smiled softly at the girl and knelt down to her height. She had such a sweet and innocent face, so bright and happy despite the ragged and torn clothes she wore. Ignorance was indeed bliss.

“Thank you for letting me blow bubbles with you, little one,” Sehun replied, his smile getting just a bit wider as he lightly ruffled the girl’s hair.

“Bye oppa,” the girl giggled as he messed with her hair..

Sehun stayed kneeling as he watched the girl walk to what he assumed was her mother, giving the girl a small wave as she turned back to smile and wave at him before finally leaving. He kneeled there for a few more minutes, reluctant to get up and go home, the home in which a certain presence was sorely missed.

“Sehunnie, look what I got us!”

The tired young man looked at his lover’s excited face as he enthusiastically waved a paper around.

“What are you going off about, Jongin?” He snatched the paper from the dark skinned man and quickly skimmed through the pieces of paper. When he was done, he slowly looked up into Jongin’s ecstatic face that was silently prompting him to say something.

“You got us an apartment?”

To say that he was shocked wouldn’t come close to really describing what Sehun felt. Finally, he didn’t have to stay with his family or dorm with someone at school. No, he was going to live with Kim Jongin.

He didn’t let the older man react to his question however, as he quickly enveloped Jongin in a near bone-crushing bear hug, his random murmurings expressing all his love, his thankfulness, his overwhelming joy. Jongin was unlike anyone he had met-cold, but so sweet. And what made everything more incredible for Sehun was that he was the only one to ever see Jongin’s sweet side.

And now, Sehun slid his key into the apartment door and walked alone into the room. A week, and Jongin’s things were still there. Sehun couldn’t bring himself to throw out his things. They held too many memories, both good and bad, and all of which made up the basis of their relationship.

Sehun walked out into the balcony and stood at the very edge with his arms spread wide. The soft breeze played with his hair, and he closed his eyes as the light wind caressed his face. Maybe this was what is was like to be a bubble-to reflect the sunlight and be free, floating in the air until pop! you burst.

He smiled to himself as the winds got stronger, no longer playful, its touch no longer tender. It whipped around him, almost as though it was a rising storm despite the warm glow of the setting sun. And he smiled as he saw the faces of his sister and Jongin in his mind’s eye, smiling as they never had before and coaxing him to go to them. And he smiled as the growing winds took him in their stead.

As he fell, one last thought crossed Oh Sehun’s mind. Perhaps he would be the bubble that made it furthest into the heavens, and be the last bubble that Kim Jongin would ever see.