Chapter 6

XII.

Sungjong can feel Myungsoo’s tongue against his. He wonders if he can smell the cigarette on his breath. He probably can but he never says anything. In fact, they never speak, not even a greeting. Myungsoo’s fingers tighten on his waist and he feels a vibration jolting through his body. It’s a strange feeling, like he’s been struck by lightning on a cold night. Giving Myungsoo’s flushed lips one last desperate peck, he pulls away, his lips.

He turns around, ready to leave, when he hears Myungsoo gasping, “Wait!”

His heart freezes over. Today’s the day that Myungsoo will confront him, call him out on his hypocrisy. What’s he going to do now? He doesn’t have an answer for Myungsoo and he doesn’t want this – whatever this is, between them – to end.

Not knowing what else to do, he swivels around, cups Myungsoo’s cheeks in his hands and kisses him again. He can feel the heat on Myungsoo’s face under his fingers. It’s kind of like a consolation kiss, for the answers he doesn’t have and the feelings he doesn’t reciprocate. He knows that it’s cheating, because by now it’s pretty obvious how much power he has over the other, but he can’t help it. Deception has become his life; deceiving his friends, Myungsoo, and maybe even himself.

When he breaks off the kiss, Myungsoo’s eyelashes are wet. Biting his lips, he lowers his head, as if saying, “Don’t ask any more from me, this is all I can give,” only to have Myungsoo drop down in front of him on his knees.

Without a word, Myungsoo reaches for his shoelaces, which have become undone without him noticing, and carefully ties them back into place. Sungjong stands very still, his eyes fixed on the top of Myungsoo’s head.

“You’re afraid to fall, right?” Myungsoo says in a soft voice. Having finished his job, he stands up and smiles at him. It’s painful for Sungjong to meet his eyes, it’s like looking raw truth in the eye, something he can never accomplish. He remembers the time he had almost fallen, but Myungsoo had caught him at the last moment. “This way,” Myungsoo tilts his head, his eyes a curious shade of brown, “you don’t have to worry about falling.”

XIII.

Myungsoo’s fingers brush against Sungjong’s. The feeling is that of the north wind trilling across his hand, but it is also suggestive; whether it’s intentional or not, Sungjong can’t tell. But what he can tell is that it’s an invitation, a small hint that if he wants it, he could walk down a different alley and be just as dazed and more. It’s an invitation for him, and it’s funny because it isn’t from Myungsoo, it’s from himself.

It’s tempting, and foreboding at the same time.

He has never been hurt, so why is he so afraid of getting hurt?

Maybe because he knows that the first time is the worst, and he just can’t cross that street; he isn’t strong enough.

Alas, he isn’t even strong enough to deny the attraction between his fingers and Myungsoo’s, the way they dance towards each other and then frolic away, like waves crashing onto the beach, only to scuttle away with trepidation. Maybe it’s no secret for him anymore that there’s something Myungsoo has that he obviously wants, or maybe it isn’t Myungsoo, it’s just them – two people who have fallen too far and know that the only way out is through each other.

Feeling an unusual flutter in his chest, Sungjong wraps his little finger around Myungsoo’s. The fingers stay there like that, intertwined, for ten seconds.

They don’t stop walking, they don’t even look at each other, trying to find answers to the questions that the gesture just raised. They just enjoy the moment, devour it until Sungjong moves his hand away and s it deep inside his pocket.

But those precious ten seconds, the wind had stilled, the earth had stopped spinning and Sungjong’s pretty sure none of them was breathing.

He feels that he had just done something immensely courageous; he feels a sense of victory and pride. But he also feels a tiredness creep over him like a thin sheet of mist. He can’t explain all of the emotions he’s going through, but sometimes logic is boring and the ephemeral things are the real things.

XIV.

They are sitting side by side on the low wall at the abandoned playground. Sungjong has introduced Myungsoo to this place. At first Sungjong was worried because Woohyun and Sungyeol know this place too, but for some reason the two had been avoiding it. They have found a new hangout place and even though Sungjong hates it, he didn’t disagree to it because that means he’ll have this place to himself. And Myungsoo.

He likes the silence. The silence between them is not stuffy, it’s more like a shower. Comfortable and soothing – he likes how they sit in silence for hours, without even looking at each other although he’s sure Myungsoo cheats at times, sending furtive glances his way. But he likes sharing the silence with Myungsoo, almost as much as he likes kissing him.

For some reason, Myungsoo decides to break the silence today.

“I dreamed that we were running away, running through fields and then there was an ocean but we just didn’t stop running. We ran until we were out of breath, and then we kissed.”

Myungsoo turns to face Sungjong, who is still taking in every word the other is saying. It sounds like music – sad, slow music, the kind that makes you want to cry, the kind you just can’t turn off - Sungjong's favorite kind.

“One day, I want to take your hand and run across fields and valleys and oceans, and never stop. Never, not for anyone or anything.” Myungsoo tilts his head to one side, as if weighing Sungjong’s reaction. “Is that sad?”

“It’s insane,” Sungjong mutters.

He doesn’t know what else to say. He could admit that it is kind of sad, and he likes it that way. That makes him a kind of sadist, doesn’t it? All this time he’s thought that he’s afraid of getting hurt, but what if, he actually enjoys hurting himself? Maybe all of this is a ploy on his part to listen to more sad music and drown himself in despondency and drink until he can’t remember the happiness, only the pain.

“What can I say,” Myungsoo sighs deeply. “You drive me insane.”

“Like you don’t.”

The words tumble out of Sungjong’s mouth before he can stop himself. He bites his tongue, hoping Myungsoo didn’t catch the drift. It’s a disaster – what was he thinking. He reasons that he needs to explain himself to Myungsoo but what should he say? Would it make things worse?

“I mean,” he starts hesitantly, “I just meant that - it’s complicated – there’s a whole lot of figuring out and -”

He has a feeling he’s just making it worse. Myungsoo only smiles.

“You’re so cute when you mess up and try to cover your tracks.”

“Don’t patronize me!” Sungjong states angrily.

He doesn’t know why but something inside him flares up and he knows the old Sungjong would never allow someone to talk to him like that, like they know him. No one knows him – his life story is a tragic tale where everyone misunderstands him and no one cares for him – it has to be that way.

Myungsoo isn’t special. Okay, maybe he is a bit special, but he couldn’t change him, he couldn’t rewrite him.

Myungsoo heaves a deep breath that sounds like shadows and a formidable siren. He looks away from Sungjong, letting his eyes wander across the vivid purple sky.

“My breath caught in my chest the day you held my hand, my finger. For a second, I was dead. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. But I didn’t react because I was afraid you’d pull away any second and I wanted to make the moment last.”

Sungjong doesn’t know which is worse – that he remembers the day Myungsoo is talking about to the last detail or that he can’t remember why he is mad at Myungsoo anymore. What is this strange weakness, this helplessness in the face of reality?

“Why are you so afraid of new beginnings?”

Myungsoo’s voice breaks mid-sentence but it’s nothing like the painful crack that appears in Sungjong’s heart. Who does Myungsoo think he is, assuming things about him? Who does Myungsoo think he is, being able to read his deepest secret like he isn’t even trying to hide it?

But Sungjong wouldn’t give it up so easily.

“Nonsense,” he says but it doesn’t come out as impressive as he planned it to be. It sounds like he’s stammering but actually it’s his heart beating fast that causes his voice to sound shaky. He half-meets Myungsoo’s eyes, and for a moment he sees an accusing stare there. But then the gaze softens and his eyes drop.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. For once I wanted to pretend I actually know you; more than others.”

Sungjong bites his lips but doesn’t reply. He holds back the part of him trying to shout out, “But you do!”

It doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t change anything.

XV.

“How long are you planning to do this?” Woohyun asks, putting down his lunch tray beside Sungjong’s.

Sungjong is playing with his chopsticks, stealing glances at Myungsoo who’s sitting a few tables away from them, talking to a girl with short hair. Their eyes met once or twice and every time they did, Sungjong felt reassured for some reason.

“What do you mean?” he questions back absent-mindedly as Sungyeol joins them, his tray teetering with food. As Sungyeol is busy tackling the chocolate wrapper, Woohyun leans forward and lowers his voice so that only Sungjong can hear him.

“I know about you and Myungsoo, I’ve seen you two, sneaking behind everyone. I’m not dumb you know.”

As his heart skips a beat, Sungjong glares at Woohyun, glancing at Sungyeol to make sure he didn’t hear it. Sungyeol is too busy with his lunch thankfully.

“Later,” he mouths but Woohyun wouldn’t give up. He takes a look at Sungyeol and says in a furious whisper, “Later, you’ll just ignore me or not answer my questions. I want them answered now. You obviously have feelings for him, why not make it real? This thing could work, between the two of you.”

Sungyeol finally looks up from his food and sends a questioning glance at his two friends.

They both mutter “Nothing,” at the same time, which convinces Sungyeol, who goes back to his meal.

“I forgot my chopsticks,” Woohyun suddenly says. “Sungyeol, will you please grab a pair?”

“Why me?” Sungyeol grumbles, but gets up from the table anyway. He usually doesn’t deny Woohyun.

Woohyun turns to fix Sungjong with a penetrating glare that makes the air around him feel unusually stuffy. He’s not ready for this confrontation and he hates that it has to be the exceptionally perceptive Woohyun instead of the more easygoing Sungyeol.

“What’s with this game, Sungjong? Can’t you see how hypocritical this is? You do whatever you feel like, and Myungsoo is the one left begging. You can have more Sungjong, you can give Myungsoo so much more. And God knows he deserves it.”

Sungjong’s lips tremble. He’s oddly nervous. He wasn’t counting on his friend to find out about this, no one’s supposed to know. He never wanted this conversation to begin because he is afraid of the way it might end.

“I like what we have,” he manages in a small voice.

His friend sighs, resting his forehead on his fingers.

“Sungjong what you have is smoke and shadow – it’s nothing you can grab onto. All your life has been like this, let Myungsoo be your anchor. And don’t tell me he doesn’t want it.”

Turning his gaze to the empty wall on his right, Sungjong gulps. This is getting too complicated for his liking. Woohyun is a difficult person to evade and he understands emotions and relationships too well. That makes him smart, but also annoying because whatever he says, hits home. He is a marksman and Sungjong doesn’t know how to dodge his bullets.

This is why he was so conflicted about confiding in his best friends. They wouldn’t understand what he’s going through – or worse, they would know exactly what he’s going through.

“Look, things don’t have to get complicated,” Sungjong whispers furiously, even though there’s no sign of Sungyeol. He probably got into trouble with a teacher for having his shirt tucked-out or his gelled hair or his multiple piercings. “Whatever we have makes Myungsoo happy.”

Without warning, Woohyun grabs his chin and turns his head forcefully towards where Myungsoo is sitting. For a moment, all Sungjong can see is Myungsoo’s side profile against the backdrop of the nameless and the pointless. He can see the way his right hand grips the chopsticks, the way his mouth moves as he chews his food slowly – it’s all very endearing, and he realises with a start how much of Myungsoo he has ignored, how he knows so little about the small things that Myungsoo does.

Woohyun sounds like a disembodied voice, emitting from a far-off world, but he can hear every word clearly, as they ring in his ears.

“Of course he’s going to say he’s happy and glad, but look deep into those eyes, Sungjong, look closely - you broke him and if you don’t hurry up, it will be too late.”

Myungsoo turns his head at that exact moment and their eyes met again. Suddenly, that gaze means so much more than he ever understood.

The one who broke you is the only one who can fix you.