captain’s log / 141224 ; Christmas Eve.

It’s nearly dawn when Jinhwan wakes up. He draws the blinds and squints at the droplets trickling down the glass panel. Its raining again, and Jinhwan thinks that perhaps it’s the world’s way of mocking him for the fact that he’d be alone this Christmas. Christmas was always a season that Jinhwan looked forward to – it was always the time of year in which he would take a day off and spend the day with his sister in the comfort of their cozy, albeit small, house and decorate every corner with icicle lights, stick-on wreaths and of course, the Christmas tree. They would spent hours in the mall searching for their materials, paying close attention to the sizes and even the shades of colour they came in simply because the colours of their walls were hard to match. Jinhwan never quite understood why his sister had been adamant on painting the walls peach despite its suffocating vibrancy. He never remembered her having a liking for bright colours, neither did he see anything special in this hue. Frowning, he turns back to the letter on the table and lets himself fall back onto the sturdy frame of the swirling chair and listens to the raindrops for a few minutes. He then gets up and leaves the room, walking down the quiet corridor.

A few rooms down, Hanbin hasn’t slept a single wink and he sits with his back against the bed frame, his legs curled up against his chest. It’s almost Christmas, but it’s been weeks since he last saw his sister – he isn’t even sure if he’ll get to see her this Christmas.  He hasn’t heard from his mother since their last visit and the only trace of his sister was the photo frame on the bedside table gathering dust. He frowns a little as he hears a knock on the door. Hanbin lets out a soft grunt and mumbles inaudibly while shifting himself to welcome his guest as he pauses at the sight of a familiar pair of shoes.

“Dr. Kim?” Hanbin rubs his eyes and squints at the petite figure making his way towards him and breaks out into a smile when the said male nods.

“Mornings Hanbin,” Jinhwan smiles weakly and walks towards the bed with soft footsteps as though he was waddling on a bed of fragile petals, afraid to ruin their finesse, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I was thinking about my family.”

“Your sister, in particular?”

“Her only, as a matter of fact.”

“Same here.” Hanbin stiffens at Jinhwan’s reply and relaxes a few moments later before glancing over in his direction. He watches the manner in which his doctor scratches against the surface of his left palm and makes a mental note to be cautious while lurking in the bijou radius of this subject. Jinhwan then proceeds to curl up against the chair as his arms barely encircle his legs; and perhaps in an instant, his patient finds a diagnosis for his own doctor.

“Your sister isn’t spending Christmas with you this year?” Jinhwan merely nods in reply, “Well that’s a little upsetting, given that both of you usually spend these important days together. You even came late on your birthday because you had to celebrate and cut the cake with her in the morning – how envious.”

Jinhwan looks up and tilts his head while gazing at Hanbin in confusion – he doesn’t remember telling him anything about his family background, not to mention celebrating special dates with just his sister. Meanwhile, Hanbin reads his doctor’s gaze quickly and breaks out into a slight smile, explaining that the nurse was the one who told him about their habit of celebrating birthdays together, hence he guessed that they did the same for Christmas.

“Oh, well that’s right. We practically celebrate every special day together and that fact hasn’t changed since we first shifted to Seoul,” Jinhwan returns Hanbin’s gaze with a bitter smile and speaks, “But she’s going to spend her Christmas overseas toiling away in a foreign district filled with strangers speaking in a language which she doesn’t understand. It’s funny isn’t it, how Christmas is meant to be a period of joy and comfort in an area surrounded by those you hold close – yet she’s leaving, she’s stepping out of her comfort zone for the sake of baseless and temporary romance.”

“Debts?”

“If endearment were to be measured in the same manner as material riches, yes.”

“We all have different views on what’s worth and what’s not – as cheesy at it might sound, her love might seem to be more important than anything else and no one is given the right to judge her or correct her decisions because its something personal. Even if it appears to be foolish, that’s the thing that makes it precious – its fleeting, a little stupid but its genuine and completely vulnerable because of that,” Hanbin pauses and his eyes linger on the crumpled sheets, “That’s what makes it worth going for.” Jinhwan merely nods as though in the twilight of his own stupor. The younger boy frowns at the sight of his doctor crumbling; he had never been like this, and perhaps it irritated him to a certain extent – he wasn’t supposed to be this vulnerable, this quiet, nor was he supposed to start drowning. He was always supposed to be in one piece – a sturdy pillar that he could lean on, a bundle of warmth he could run towards amidst the coldest of Seoul’s winter nights; a blotch of pastel amongst the grey skies, they had established that, didn’t they? Jinhwan was meant to be carefree, a soft melody in the crevices of an abandoned concert hall, a flickering candle in the darkness – he couldn’t ever lose the glimmer in his dark blue pupils. He frowns hard enough for his migraine to act up and he finds himself clutching his hair tightly while curling into a ball. Groaning, he musters sufficient strength to reach for his painkillers on the bedside table and as his line of vision shifts from the crumpled sheets to his right, he sees his doctor asleep, his head lying gently against his knees.

“He must’ve been exhausted.” Hanbin speaks under his breath and decides against consuming another set of pale pink pills. He lets himself lean against the bed frame once again like he had done an hour before, and eyes the peach line connecting them both, filling up the gaps between their shivering bodies, “And perhaps on a bad day, I’d like to become a temporary shelter for you, which would cease to exist once your thunderstorms were replaced by sunshine, because afterall I’m supposed to be the only one who’s tinted, who’s incomplete, no?” 

AN: guys i'm so sorry i updated so late i :c omg i couldn't write due to a writing block, i really apologise.