anybody who read this story before 6/25/16, please read the edit in the a/n. thank you.

Slip and slide of paper, view of the world as it wakes up.

“There’s a small part of me that wants to just get on a train and go somewhere,” Daehyun says. His voice is soft, frayed at the edges, waiting for someone to come along and tie up the loose ends.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“We can do it together.” And Youngjae braids it all together with nimble fingers and smiles like melted chocolate.

.

“Are you going home?” Youngjae asks. In his hands are seven sheets of patterned paper, three inches by three inches. Daehyun’s head is heavy on Youngjae’s shoulder, eyelids quivering like feathers in a breeze with the effort of keeping them open. Their backs are pressed against the headboard of Daehyun’s bed, thin cotton shorts and t-shirts warmed by steady pulses and soft breaths. They sit in a sea of paper cranes.

Daehyun warms the question in his mind, kneads it and stretches it and balls it back up like dough. He wants to say something cheesy, like home is where the heart is or my home is with you, because really, he means it. Instead, he says, “Yeah.” It feels thick on his tongue, the soapy taste of words unsaid.  

They spend the whole night awake, he and Youngjae, lights off, talking quietly. The window in his room hasn’t been closed since three days ago, and they can hear the sounds of the world outside dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. The generators switch on and off, buzzing, and something croaks in the grass, but otherwise silence blankets them thickly, warm with summer stars and a full moon. They’ve spared their sleep for this, their last night—day—together. They’ve spared their sleep for these moments, where the only thing that matters is each other.

Daehyun dozes, and Youngjae folds the last forty-eight cranes in the dark with deft fingertips and unbroken rhythm. “I want to finish them before summer,” he had said, and folded nearly six hundred in the span of two months.

It is still dark at four in the morning when Youngjae finishes and they step outside, stifling yawns and rubbing tired eyes. They call for a taxi and wait for it cross-legged in the dew-laden grass. There’s a large black bag in Youngjae’s lap with nine hundred and ninety-nine thoughts, wishes, doubts and fears. They ask the taxi driver to take them to the bridge overlooking the Han River.

“Are you sure?” Daehyun asks, when they’re peering over the edge at the water below. He thinks of the color in his room and the color in his heart and a part of him doesn’t want to throw them away forever.

“Yes,” Youngjae says. “I made the last one.” I made my wish.

When Youngjae is ready, they tear the bag open over the water and release nine hundred and ninety-nine caged birds on their first and final flight. They flutter gently to the water, some spinning, others floating, caught in the wind, and Daehyun imagines he hears the whispers of the words that had tied him and Youngjae together.

“They flew.” Youngjae inhales humidity and pollution, exhales nine hundred and ninety-nine worries, and feels as if he will fly, too. The mellow blue of the sky gives gradually to a gradient of pink, and Daehyun watches Youngjae as Youngjae watches his cranes drown and swim away, swept by the current of the river. When Youngjae finally turns to look at him, his smile is weightless, relieved, radiant.

.

They wait for Daehyun’s train to Busan together. When it finally arrives, a few minutes off schedule, Youngjae kisses him goodbye on the platform, and Daehyun thinks maybe people are looking, or maybe they aren’t, but he doesn’t care either way.

“See you soon,” Youngjae murmurs. His voice carries with it the crisp crackling of wood on a bonfire, burnt marshmallows, and sugary kisses.

“Yeah,” Daehyun agrees, and kisses Youngjae one more time, hard, just because he can.

.

Daehyun watches his reflection in the window, watches buildings and grass blur past so quickly that he can’t tell which is which. He thinks about the summer, about coming back to visit his childhood town and reuniting with friends he hasn’t seen for years. He thinks about the train ticket Youngjae bought ahead of time for two weeks in Busan with Daehyun. It is a promise, printed and tucked in Youngjae’s wallet for safekeeping.

Daehyun closes his eyes and wonders at the long forgotten feeling of excitement tickling his throat and bubbling in his mouth, like he’s just downed a glass of champagne in one go. There’s a sky blue crane sitting in his pocket with Youngjae’s warmth caught in its folds. He’ll open it when he gets home, but he thinks he already knows what he’ll find inside.

Sweet champagne, indeed.

#1000

I love you.

a/n: There are a lot of people I feel like I need to thank personally, but first and foremost that is my wifey, Klouss. Thank you, Carrie, for making life so much better because without you, this story would not exist. I'd like to dedicate this whole thing to her because she is my goddess queen and yes. Here you go. <333 And of course, thank you, thank you, thank you, for every upvote, every subscriber, and every comment. You guys made this a beautiful experience.

edit 6/25/16: I've been in the process of editing this story over the span of quite literally two years. At long last, it is finished, and I will never touch it again. Those who have reread may notice some drastic changes, such as the removal of the Chopin concert, the removal of Junhong and addition of Yongguk, and so on. Most importantly is the removal of himup. Himup shall be given its own oneshot in the future with all of the scenes taken out of this story. however, this is likely the last that you will see of me on AFF. I have moved on to AO3, where you can also find this story and the series to which it belongs and subscribe, if you wish to be notified when I post the himup spinoff, titled A Thousand Cups of Coffee. You will also be able to find me and links to this story and others, as well as the future himup oneshot, on my tumblr. It has been a long, pleasant journey on AFF, and I am sad to leave, but unfortunately this community is no longer what it used to be. I wish everyone the best of luck! Thank you all.

Love,
-Jess