AUTHORS NOTE:  I think I rushed the ending of this one-shot because it ended up being a story featuring a long, pulled-out introduction and then a quick resolve that doesn’t really live up to the beginning, in my opinion. It’s in the middle of the night and I really wanted to churn this out as quickly as possible so I can focus on school work tomorrow, so please excuse any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes that I may have made. I tried to include as many recurring themes as I could and attempted to most accurately convey the idea of a man creating his own little reality in which his dead lover is alive in order to cope with his lover’s death.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters involved in this one-shot, only the plot was found in the depths of my imagination and the darkness of my consciousness.

PAIRING: Kikwang/Hyunseung

LENGTH: 4763 words, 1/1 COMPLETE

WARNING: This one-shot features a lot of angst and there will be mentions of death. Overall it is a rather depressing story, so if you are not interested in dark, gloomy themes then this won’t be your cup of tea.

 

 

“I’m going to work now, Kikwang. I’ll be back late tonight.”

The picture on the bedside table stands redeemed, the smiles plastered on the photo shining a little brighter, the faces embroidered on the image glowing a little more delightful, as if smiling back at the young man.

 

He closes the door slowly, as if attempting to not disturb the silence within the room. Walking to his day job at a retail-clothing store, he takes his usual route – the 10-minute walk along the newly tiled streets, the short metro ride across the district, and the subsequent stroll from the train station to the big, department-esque retail store. Today, however, he runs, afraid of being late for the hundredth day in a row, fearing a verbal beating from his disappointed boss. His boss had been understanding – giving him leeway ever since the incident – but Hyunseung knows that it is only a matter of time before he decides that its not worth the money and time. Gasping for breath, he enters the store, slotting his time card quickly.

 

“Junhyung, I’m here!” he says, calling for his boss.

“Good. You’re earlier today.” Junhyung replies, a slight smile etched across his face.

 

He sets to work, tidying the clothes hanging from the multicolored racks in his designated section, awaiting opening time. His daily routine ensues – a boring, dull schedule full of customers flowing in and out of the store, some buying clothes that they like, others trying stuff on and deciding at the last minute that it was not worth their well-earned money. It goes on, every single day, answering the customers looking for ‘specialist’ opinions – or rather, compliments about their figure – and tidying the ever-accumulating stack of clothes that pile up every time another customer enters the changing rooms. He used to enjoy such gloomy activity, the hourly phone calls keeping him excited and motivated to work. These days however, he stares at the clothes dejectedly, and talks to customers only when he is obligated to.

 

Today, however, saw a different development. The weather had worsened over the course of the day, the sunny sky that Hyunseung has witnessed when finding his way to work altering slowly from dark, compact clouds to slow drizzles of rain. Near noon, the rain intensified, and the cheery customers left the store to be replaced by irritated, drenched customers. The number of umbrellas on the stand grew throughout the day. Some time in the middle of the day, a man wearing a professional, tightly fit business suit enters the store. His eyes sweep around the parameters of the shop, as if looking for someone he recognized. He stands, upright - back straight, a serious depth illuminating within his eyes. Woman around him stare, as if attracted to the confident, deafening air surrounding the mysterious figure. He lets his eyes trail around the various clothing stacks and hangers around the densely populated store, and lifts his head in realization once his eyes settle on Hyunseung, standing in the middle of the store, attending to the needs of a pestering little boy, a dejected and annoyed expression attached to the young salesman’s face. He pompous smile twists into a grim, expressionless frown, as if staring at the face of the salesman brought back memories he was trying to bury.

 

It only took a few seconds before Hyunseung lifted his head and met the piercing eyes of the mysterious man, a sudden gloom suddenly wrapping around his face. He knows this man. He fears this man. Not for who he is, but for what he carries. Memories. Snapshots. His eyes dilate, his heart pumps faster and faster, his breathing stops. The searching eyes of the man notice the sudden change in Hyunseung’s demeanor, and the man begins to walk towards him.

 

“Dong-saeng! It’s me, Doojoon!” The man says, hesitantly.

“Wh…why are you here?” Hyunseung replies, tears slowly creeping towards the surface. He attempts to prevent the tears from falling, blinking several times to no avail.

“It’s almost been half a year Hyun! You can’t keep shunning as away! We are all hurting from what happened!” Doojoon answers, his hands reaching towards the teary-eyed man.

“I just… I just… miss…” Hyunseung stutters in response. A moment later, the tears began to flow out dramatically, his sobs resounding loudly within the confines of the shop. People turn towards the source of the cries, shocked by the sudden outcry.

“I know… we all do. Lets get a coffee…there’s a lot we need to talk about” Doojoon responds, sympathetically. His already compromised heart shatters a bit more every time another teardrop streams down the cheek of the younger man.

“No…no…no… I can’t… I can’t.” Hyunseung manages to say, chocking at the massive outflow of tears swelling from his eyes. He drops the stack of clothes he was holding, and dashes out, running for the doors. But before he leaves, a sad, regretful voice in his mind shouts at him. The sentence lasts in his mind while he tries to swing the doors open. It replays itself in his head, acting as an automatically looping sound recorder attached to his brain. “Hyun, you need this. Talk to him. It’s been too long already”.

 

He steps out into the streets, but doesn’t run off until after he turns around, staring at the man in the suit one last time.

“Maybe next time.” he whispers – just loud enough for the suited man to acknowledge.

 

---

 

Hyunseung rides the Metro back to his apartment. He had to get out of there. He knew his boss would be disappointed, but he couldn’t stand in the same room as Doojoon. Not today, especially not now. He wonders why his consciousness told him to say that – his own words replay themselves in his head. “Maybe next time.”  The three words echo in his mind. He knew that it was time to move on. But he couldn’t. The sight of Doojoon made him remember dark memories he tried to bury - the same memories that he calls upon every single night, when he lies within the dark walls of his bedroom. It is during the night that he feels the least alone, knowing that Kikwang is there beside him. They were his addiction. His drug. He knew that it was no longer there for him, but he keeps drawing into the deepest archives of his brain to reimagine the past – cherry smiles, hidden kisses, joyful nights – he layers the bad with the good. And it works. But when Doojoon appears in front of him, one of the faces who had been there when it happened, he can no longer suppress the ugly memories the bubble to the surface, floating above the joyful memories that make his nights and days less… lonely. He remains seated on the metro seats as the train passes his station. People file out of the metro at each stop, and new faces enter, and Hyunseung remains seated. Not sleeping, but not entirely awake.

 

When he finally decided to get off the train and heads back home, the sun has already set, and darkness rules the streets once again. Drunken men roam the streets, but Hyunseung walks on, as if in his own little imaginary world – his self-composed fantasy of the life he once had, a little form of reality he has composed from images fragmented and engrained in his head. Once he opens the door to his apartment, he hears the only voice that truly understands him re-enter his head.

 

“Kiki, I’m home!” he shouts. He goes to the kitchen to see dinner prepared for him, his lover sitting opposite him with a grin on his face. Hyunseung takes a seat opposite his lover, and hungrily munches down the food on his plate. He doesn’t notice the boy opposite him flicker. He hesitantly recites the incident that occurred at work today to the boy. The boy looks remorseful, his eyes bloodshot and regretful. Silence envelopes the rest of the evening.

 

“I love you, Kiki.” He states, repeating the very same phrase he has said every single day since. He wished he had said so sooner. He wished that he had confessed before it was too late, he wished that he had made the deadline that haunts him to this day.

“I love you too” The boy replies, an image of content surfacing. He continues. “Hyun, you need this. Talk to him. It’s been too long already.”

 

That night, Hyunseung tosses and turns in his bed. His normal, joyful memories of accompany composed in his own little world replaced by playbacks of scenes that had arisen from his sub-consciousness when he saw Doojoon’s face. Soon, however, he drifts to sleep. But that night, the bed sheets felt colder than ever, and growling sounds emitting from his hungry, empty stomach echo around his bedroom.

---

 

The next morning, Hyunseung is once again pulled from his slumber by the radiant rays of sunlight that penetrate the plastic window shades that surround his room. Fearing that he may be late and disappoint Junhyung more than be already has, the young man slips on a simple black tee and jeans, rushing out the door after grabbing a small snack. Before he leaves however, he stares back into the bedroom, repeating the phrase that he has grown so accustomed to saying.

 

“I’m going to work now, Kikwang. I’ll be back late tonight.” He says, but with less enthusiasm. Doojoon’s confrontation yesterday still remained plastered in his mind, operating as a hard drive recovering deleted files from his memory. Files and memories he had worked so hard to forget and bury, memories that he had worked so hard to separate and remove from his self-composed reality.

 

Today, the photo standing on the bedside table remains dull under the piercing rays of the sun, as if more and more color is soaked out of the image second by second. The color almost made the happy, smiling faces in the middle of the photo seem depressed, the dark tone and soaked exposure twisting the smile into a frown.

 

­­­­

Once Hyunseung reaches the store, Junhyung is already in the staff room waiting for him, impatient. He could tell by the frown on his boss’s face that he was in trouble.

 

“Hyunseung! Why did you run of yesterday? I had to run the store with a man down for the rest of the day! Do you know how problematic it was?” the man explodes, sternly.

“I’m… I’m sorry. It just happened. Everything came back to me. I understand if you want to fire me.” Hyunseung replies, sobbing through layers of tears.

The man stares at Hyunseung sympathetically, noticing the pain evident in the younger man’s eyes.

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again. I know it has been hard on you. But it’s time to move on. Maybe you should talk to the man that came in yesterday. I recognize him. Isn’t he one of your friends?” Junhyung responds, his tone lowered and calm. It pains him to see someone who has worked for him since the beginning at such a state.

Hyunseung simply nods, unable to say a word.

“Now go to your station. You’re in charge of the elderly section today. Hopefully the lack of customers there will let you relax a bit.” Junhyung’s voice had transformed from the voice of an aggressive, loud boss to that of a compassionate friend. He knew he wasn’t supposed to comfort his employees, but the sight of the crying red-haired boy filled him with pity and sympathy.

 

Once the store opened for the day, Doojoon was already there, standing in front of the glass doors even before the ‘CLOSED’ sign was flipped. He walks into the store, pacing towards Hyunseung. Hyunseung’s breath hitched when he saw Doojoon walking towards him. He had feared as much – the entire train journey had comprised of debating about whether he should let the older man back into his life.

 

“Hyunseung, can you go for a Coffee today? There are things that we need to discuss.” Doojoon said after he was a close enough to the red-haired salesman.

Hyunseung hesitated, not knowing how to properly deal with the situation. Reconnecting with Doojoon would subsequently reconnecting with all of his past friends, all of whom has been witness to the incident. It would bring more and more dark memories back to his mind, and he would begin to lose track of the happy moments he kept caged in the forefront of his brain. He wasn’t ready to let go of the past, but Kikwang had urged him to talk to Doojoon. He looked at the older mans eyes. Doojoon seemed more relaxed today, donning more conventional clothing, but a tired, weary smile replaced the refined composure that he had held himself with yesterday. “He must be feeling as sad and hopeless as I am.” Hyunseung though, noticing the skin creases across the older man’s face.

“My…my…lunch break starts at half past 12…come back then.” He replied, before avoiding Doojoon’s eyes and swiftly moving to fold a stack of messy checkered clothing on the display table.

 

Doojoon smiles, but the pain in his eyes is as evident as ever. He nods towards Hyunseung’s direction, and turns on his back, walking slowly out of the store. Once again, he leaves the umbrella upright on the stand, knowing that he would return soon enough.

---

 

“Hyunseung… how are you coping?” Doojoon asked, sitting across Hyunseung in the quaint coffee shop across the road. He had arrived punctually, and had dragged Hyunseung out of the store before the boy could make some sort of excuse to escape this inevitable conversation.

“What are you doing here, Doojoon…” Hyunseung suddenly piqued, ignoring Doojoon’s previous question.

“It’s been more than 5 months, Hyunseung. We all regret what happened and we never speak of what happened that day. But we need you back! Yoseob is more depressed than ever – he rarely talk to anyone either. Dongwoon can’t sleep without crying, and I… I… can’t live a day without thinking of what happened. We need each other… Hyun. All of us.” The older man replied, a grim and desperate frown caressing his face.

“I can’t… I’m afraid that when I see them again, I’ll remember everything. Even seeing you brings memories that I’ve tried so hard to forget!” Hyunseung stated, his hand gripping the coffee cup hardly, ignoring the slight burn appearing on his fingers due to the heated surface of the plastic cup.

“We understand… but being together might make getting over it easier! You need someone to talk to!”

“I…I… don’t know. There isn’t a day in which I think about what we could have done to prevent it. I miss…”

“I know, I know. We all feel that way. It’s not any easier on any of us. Yoseob regrets being too absorbed to his job to notice, and Dongwoon only talks about the lost possibilities these days. Let us back in Hyunseung…”

Hyunseung remains rigid, stuck at a loss of words. He knew his friends were suffering just as much as he was. But he feared seeing them all again. Yesterday had been unbearable, and he was just only beginning to grow accustomed to seeing and talking to Doojoon again.

“Come on… swing by one day, Hyunseung…we’re still living where we always have.”

“I…I… don’t know. I’m not ready. I can’t stand going to bed at night knowing that everything real and solid in my life is only my imagination. It kills me to admit that I can’t accept reality. And the worst thing is, I don’t want to accept it.”

“At least let me talk to you. I’m here whenever you need someone to talk to. I’ll understand.” Doojoon replied, as if already expected Hyunseung’s response to his previous question. He didn’t want to push the younger man - he understood all the suffering and pain that he was going through - but he also knew that Hyunseung would not be able to survive if he didn’t have a friend to talk to.

Hyunseung stared at the older man and nodded, before grabbing his coat and walking out the front door of the dainty coffee shop.

“See you tomorrow.”

---

 

That night, Hyunseung rushed home, yearning to see the face he had missed so much. The conversation that he had had with Doojoon earlier in the afternoon had awoken emotions that he could not suppress, and the young man was eager to see the face of his beautiful lover. Before he goes home, however, he enters a quaint, dusty convenience store, grabbing a pack of candies that he knew his boyfriend could not live without, just like he does every single Monday. It is when he sees the bright packaging of the candy wrapper that he retreats to the bottom of his consciousness, flashes of tainted, dusty images floating to the surface. The streets already seem slightly brighter.

 

“Baby, I’m home!” Hyunseung shouts once he enters the house, before running to hug the man who had arisen from a wooden rocking chair in the middle of the living room after hearing his voice.

“Ah! Should we prepare dinner? You look exhausted.” Kikwang replied, dragging Hyunseung to the kitchen. They sit opposite each other, and for the first time today, Hyunseung smiles. Kikwang’s beauty glows radiantly under the effervescent moonlight, his smile digging holes into Hyunseung’s heart. An image Hyunseung would never forget. And yet, vivid images of his conversation with Doojoon return to him, pulling him out of comfort and serenity. Dark images flash in front of his eyes before he manages to pull away and return to his reality. Hesitantly, he begins to recount his conversation with Doojoon to Kikwang. The lights grow dimmer and the smile disappears, replaced once again with regret and depression.

“You should keep talking to him. You need each other.” Kikwang says, suddenly breaking the silence.

“No. I need YOU, baby.” Hyunseung replies, staring deep in the empty, bloodshot eyes of his boyfriend. Regret. Pain. Tears begin to rise behind his eyes, threatening to flow out any moment.

 

“Just remember that I love you, Kiki.” He says, pulling Kikwang into his arms, holding on for dear like, grasping on to his sanity. Today, his partner only nods as they lie in bed. That night, Hyunseung carries empty hugs to sleep, the dreams capturing his attention once again. And as he lies unsettled under the unwashed single bed sheets, cold winter wind blows over the desolate kitchen sink, causing the contents of the basin to rattle silently – a single plate and a lonely fork clashing together under the heavy chime of the wind.

---

 

Doojoon’s umbrella became a permanent resident at the store.

He comes in everyday, picking up the occasional cardigan or tee so as to avoid infuriating the manager, but always with the same priority of talking to Hyunseung. Day after day, he strolls into the confines of the store, waiting for Hyunseung’s shift to end before taking him for lunch or for the occasional stroll at the park.

 

It wasn’t anything romantic – just a platonic bond buried under the burdens of the past year that the man wanted to preserve. Hyunseung goes along with it, simply because he knows that without the older man there for him, day after day, he would fall deeper and deeper in to the make-believe, into a fabricated fantasy that kept him safe and ultimately, secure. And as the months pass, he begins to nurture a reason to anticipate going to work; a reason to look forward to working, to going to the job he used to love. No longer does he so painfully yearn for the night – praying for his iridescent friend to rise above the daring horizon, calling in the comfort of the night. He doesn’t notice the bed get colder and colder, more and more lonely, nor does he noticed the bedside photo, growing duller and duller by the minute. In fact, he doesn’t seem to acknowledge the candy packets he purchases every Monday, lying on the top cupboard in the kitchen; untouched, packed alongside 25 other packets of the same visage, dust slowly accumulating around them.

---

 

And one day, it hits him – a feeling of freedom, a sensation of liberation. He feels like a butterfly, released from the protection of a self-made cocoon, liberated from the shell he used to call reality. He remains locked in his daily routine, however, taking the same buses and trains every morning. Working the same shifts, sleeping the same hours. A few days later, about a month since the day Doojoon reentered his life, he finds himself sitting, relaxed, in the same dainty coffee shop.

 

“Hyunseung, I think it’s time that you went to visit him.” Doojoon explains, deviating from their previous conversation focused on the weather.

Hyunseung lifts his head, surprise adorning his facial features. He thinks. He wonders if he can manage to muster enough courage to go. A lonely silence surrounds the two men, the constant chattering and bickering by the surrounding customers drowned out by the subconscious voices of encouragement, voices that Hyunseung would always recognize. Doojoon remains seated, staring expectantly at his friend. It seemed like hours before Hyunseung moves, slowly nodding his head. Hours later, when he enters the warmth of his apartment, he jumps straight into bed, ignoring the smiles that beckon him to return to his own little piece of reality.

 

Over the weekend, he begins to notice the house becoming emptier and emptier. More and more empty space begins to appear around him. He notices that there is only a set of utensils and a single plate in the cupboards. He realizes that there is only one size of clothing in the wardrobes – only one pair of shoes beside the ottoman. He stares at the empty space in the center of the living room, and swears that he had seen an old, wooden rocking chair occupying the same spot only days ago.

---

 

Doojoon comes to pick him up the next day, walking into the younger man’s apartment.

“They’ve cleaned out, hasn’t day? Donated it all to military servicemen?” He questions, feeling the emptiness of the apartment.

As he makes his way to the living room, he notices Hyunseung slouched across the couch, hesitant.

“Come on, Hyunseung. This is the only way you can get closure? Don’t you want to see where it is?” the older man asked, his voice acting as a source of wisdom.

Slowly, Hyunseung stand up, his head down, and follows Doojoon out the door, bearing a glance at the world he was abandoning. He remains the same way during the entirety of the car journey – silent and solemn. He finds himself attempting to crack back into his sub-consciousness, trying to re-enter the cocoon of security he so desperately missed, unwilling to accept the harsh reality he was about to confront.

 

As he opens the sleek shotgun door and steps out, scratching the soles of his shoes on the rough, barren pavement, he hesitates, staring at his surroundings. The sky is bleak, its emptiness and gloom tainted by the rare blotches of hue. The same tint that blemishes an artist’s canvas, the same shade that divulges the fields of everlasting poppy flowers, their petals awning in the senseless wind, the faded and convoluted images of those who were lost, those who followed the old lie, etched into the purple hearts beside them. He notices a colossal flag swinging vibrantly in the lonesome wind, its colorful tone contrasting its eerie, poignant surroundings. And although the trimmed fields of grass are shamelessly patterned by numerous flowers and petals of all shapes and sizes, Hyunseung can’t help but imagine the grass tainted by a murky, bloody red. He can’t help but see empty corpses and soulless bodies lying desolate on the field, and he can’t help but remember the day he received the most deafening news a lover could hear.

 

Doojoon guides him across the field, walking up cobblestone steps.  The older man navigates around the field with definitive ease, as if he has grown accustomed to travelling the same route, walking the same cold passageway every single day. They pass by Aviators, Sergeants, and Generals. They walk pass Crosses, Badges, and Declarations. Until Doojoon suddenly stops walking, and just stands, stoic. He guides Hyunseung’s eyes towards the block of stone in front of them. Hyunseung cries, tears streaming down his delicate face, sounds of despair and intimate sadness failing out of his frail voice. His eyes remain attached to the photo engraved onto the cold surface of the tombstone in front of them. The very same photo that stands upright on the bedside table, two identical smiles piercing through the solid surface of the gravestone.

 

Lee Gi Kwang, 24

Soldier

Rest In Peace

 

Hyunseung cries into Doojoon soldiers, his eyes continuously staring at the headstone lying before him, scrutinizing every detail as if wishing that he had read the inscribing incorrectly, praying that the engraved name was in fact not the name of his lover, wishing that he had never allowed him to leave his side.

 

“He didn’t deserve this. He needs to be back home. He needs to be here with me.” He stutters, endless tears flowing down his face, unrelenting. Doojoon can only nod, whispering words of encouragement into the ear of the younger man. Doojoon had expected as much, knowing that Hyunseung would react this way – he had been a crying wreck the first time he visited the grave of his once best friend – when he had suggested that the man visit the tombstone of his fallen lover, but he knew that this was the only way that the man could move on, the only way the Hyunseung could well and truly continue with his life and begin to realize that life must be treasured.

---

 

Bright, fluorescent light seeps through the porous gaps in the layered plastic window curtains, progressively creeping up the walls of the bedroom. As the sun continues to rise and bring the churn of waking day, its radiant rays shine on the empty surface of the bedside table. No longer does Hyunseung see the figure of his lover every night when he returns home, no longer does he see the man he loves waiting for him. But every single morning, he whispers the same thing in his head as he steps out of his apartment.

 

“I’m going to work now, Kikwang. I’ll be back late tonight.”

 

And every single night, when he returns to the lonely yet welcoming walls of his personal apartment, he enters with the same packet of sweets opened in his hands – and on some days, he walks in with a couple of flowers too.

---

 

Words: 4763, 1/1 COMPLETE

So, what did you think? Hopefully it contained enough angst and depression. I really wanted to portray this dark theme of death and how one would react to the death of a lover. I thought the role of the main character fit Hyunseung perfectly – he’s always know to live in his own 4-D world and seems to never be entirely focused on what is going on. I thought that portraying him as the kind of person that would retreat to the depths of his mind to create a fantasy – a little piece of his own reality – after the death of his lover.