Green light, yellow light, red light.  Green light, yellow light, red light. Green, yellow, red.  Go, stop.  Go, stop.  Jongup likes sitting at the intersection near his house.  Through alternating patterns of the stoplight, he is able to forget and he is forced to remember.

Green means moving cars and rushing rubber on the hot summer cement.  It means angry drivers and their angry car horns.  It means music blasting through open windows and care-free people singing in all the wrong keys.  Green means chaos, but to Jongup… green means “concentrate on the mess of city sounds”.  It means “it’s okay, don’t think, just listen”.

Red means everything.  It means the cars have stopped, and the world is quiet.  It means no wheels turning and no angry car horns.  Without the lovely mess of noises, Jongup is left with his thoughts.  When the world is quiet, his thoughts scream too loudly in his head.  Red means anything Jongup’s mind scream at him, but lately, red mostly means “what are you doing with yourself?”  Red means “remember” and Jongup doesn’t know if it’s particularly a good thing.

It’s been a year since Jongup has found his spot on the curb of this busy intersection.  His spot.  Sometimes, he sits there for a few minutes – a few rounds of stop and go.  On other occasions, he sits for an hour or two, until his legs get numb and his mind feels a bit lighter.  It’s not a big deal.  It’s near a bus shelter anyways – anyone who passes can easily assume he’s waiting for the next bus to take him to some far off place.  Today however, it’s been almost six hours and the seventeen-year-old hasn’t moved more than a foot.  Today, his mind is screaming at him and he wants it to stop.  He needs it to stop.  So, he sits and listens.  His ears are filled with the rolling tires and brief snippets of songs as cars speed away to wherever it is they’re headed.  There’s a crushed metal can in the middle lane that makes a distinct metallic crunch every time a car runs over it.  Although the sound should be annoying after six hours, to Jongup, it’s not.  It’s comforting.

It’s late summer and although it had been quite hot during the day, the sun is setting and in the chilly evening, Jongup is dressed in nothing more than a black wife-beater and sweatpants.  Before he has time to regret not bringing a sweater, the light turns red.  Cars come to a halt and thoughts take advantage of the silence, invading Jongup’s mind.

---

“Hyung, when are you coming home?” Jongup asks, and he hears his brother laugh through his cell phone.  He’s sitting on his bed with his textbooks open around him.

“I should be home in about fifteen minutes..?  I just left the gym five minutes ago,” Himchan informs his little brother.  “Why?”

“I need help with my math work,” Jongup confesses sheepishly, though not ashamed of admitting defeat against his academic studies for the night.

The younger male hears his brother chuckle on the other end.  “Come on kid, I thought you were good at math.  What happened?”

“Stop calling me kid,” Jongup sighs with frustration of the nickname. “Anyways, that was when math was just one plus one.  Now it’s all weird and complicated.  How do teachers expect us to do math when the equations are all made of more letters than numbers?” Jongup reasons.

“Okay, okay,” Himchan laughs again.  “I’ll be home soon.  Don’t fry your brain thinking too much, kid.”

“Too late,” Jongup pouts jokingly before hanging up.

Two minutes after sitting still, he gets up to do something – anything, because Jongup has never been one to do nothing for too long.  He decides that a sandwich would be good right about now, so he goes down the stairs and heads to the kitchen.

Seven minutes later, Jongup is taking a huge bite out of his sandwich, sitting in front of the TV, watching his favourite variety show.  He figures that there’s nothing he can do about his homework so he decides to just take a break.  By the end of the episode, his sandwich has been reduced to several crumbs and that’s when he realizes his brother still isn’t home.  He sighs and gets up to wash his plate when he hears the doorbell ring.  Finally.

He walks to the door, briefly wondering why the hell his brother can’t open the darned door himself.  He swings the door open with a “took you long enough” but freezes mid-sentence when the person at the door is, in fact, not his brother.

“Is this the residence of Himchan?” the police officer asks with a soft look on his face.  When Jongup nods, he continues.  “Are you his brother?  May I speak to your parents?”

Just the presence of a police officer makes Jongup’s heart beat nervously in his chest.  Trouble.  They always meant trouble.  “I’m his brother.. but my parents aren’t home yet.  They should be home in about an hour though.”

A troubled look crosses the man’s face.  “Your brother has been involved in an accident…”  At those words, Jongup’s world falls apart.  He vaguely hears something about a major intersection… and a truck… running a red light… injuries… ambulance… but Jongup can only think about the fact that his brother has been in an accident.  Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s out of the house, running to where he knows the accident must have been.  He doesn’t get very far before he feels someone grabbing his arm.

“Where are you going, boy?” the police officer asks.

“My brother,” Jongup pants, saying it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world because, truth be told, to him, it is.

“You can’t,” the man tells him.  “Please wait at home and we’ll get in contact with your parents.”

“I can’t.  I can’t just sit at home,” Jongup reasons.  “Please let me go.”  The officer gives an audible sigh.

“Okay at least let me drive you.  I don’t know if they’ve transported him to the hospital yet.  No point heading to the site if they’re not there anymore, right?” he says, leading him to the police car.  Jongup nods in agreement and gets into the car.

On the ways, the officer turns his radio on and contacts other people, trying to get news on Himchan.  Jongup is still in a state of shock and confusion – trying to decide if this is really happening.

“Any news on the young man?” he says into the handheld radio.  “I have his little brother here; his parents weren’t home.”

“Don’t bring a boy!” a static voice says almost angrily.  “What are you thinking??”

“He would’ve ran to the site is I didn’t take him,” the officer tells him calmly.  “Did they transport him to the hospital already?”

“Yeah, but don’t bring the kid there.  Wait for his parents.”

“But I already have him in the car.  He said his parents aren’t gonna be home for another hour.  We’re going to contact them as soon as possible.”

“How old is he?”  The officer looks over to Jongup for an answer, which he answers with a mumble.  “Sixteen,” he repeats into the radio.  “We’re going to the hospital now then.”

“He’s not going to live.  Don’t bring the brother.  Before the ambulance took him off site, they couldn’t control the bleeding.  He was completely unconscious – I’m surprised he didn’t die on impact –”

The officer shuts the radio off, regretting not doing it sooner.  He gives a sideways glance at Jongup, hoping he didn’t hear.  His hopes are down the drain when he sees that Jongup’s eyes are squeezed shut and there are tears spilling over his cheeks.

“Hey…” the officer says quietly, putting his hand on the teen’s shoulder.  Jongup shies away from his touch and the officer knows not to pry anymore.

The rest of the ride to the hospital is a complete blur.  Jongup cannot think.  He’s still trying to wrap his head around the situation because in all honesty, he doesn’t want to believe that this is happening to him.  That this is happening to his brother – to his family.  He doesn’t realize it when they arrive at the hospital and it takes a concerned nudge from the officer for Jongup’s eyes to look less glazed-over.  It takes him a moment to realize he was being spoken to.

“Huh?” he questions.

“They got a hold of your parents.  They’re on their way right now so it’s best we wait for them,” the officer tells him, leading him out of the car and towards the hospital’s entrance.  Jongup just nods.  After they’ve sat down, the officer speaks again.  “Are you alright?”

Jongup shakes his head and replies honestly.  “No.”

“Want a coffee?  Or hot chocolate..?  Anything?” he asks, tilting his head towards the small café situated right across from where they’re sitting.

“No thank you,” Jongup replies, confident that if he were to eat or drink anything, he would just throw it back up.

The officer nods.  “What did you say your name was, again?”

Jongup doesn’t remember ever telling him his name but replies with a simple “Moon Jongup” before turning away to be carried away by his own dazed world.

Jongup doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting there when his parents rush through the door hand in hand, his mother with tears streaming down her face and his father’s face looking stern and emotionless.  He stands up to get their attention and shifts on his feet nervously, not really knowing what to do.

The police officer greets them and explains the situation as briefly as possible and it doesn’t take long for the four to start walking towards another wing of the hospital.  Jongup strays behind them and he starts feeling dizzy and lightheaded.  It gets harder and harder for him to believe that he’s not in a dream.

They come to a stop a few minutes later and Jongup decides that he’s tired.  He’s too tired to stand anymore, so he drops onto the floor and brings his knees to his chest and just cries. It doesn’t surprise him when it’s a nurse, and not his parents, who guides him to a chair.  He’s never been close to his parents and that’s probably why he and Himchan are so unnaturally close and barely ever fight – they depend on each other.

So, the only thing in Jongup’s head as he tries to hold himself is “he can’t die.  He just can’t.  He won’t.  This isn’t happening”.  Over and over, he says the words in his head as if they’ll become the truth that way.  But then a doctor comes out through the double doors labelled “operating rooms” and his parents rush over to him and Jongup wants to run over just as badly but his legs won’t move and he’s never been more frustrated in his life.  And then he sees the doctor shake his head and his mother’s legs buckle and his father’s eye’s drop to the floor and he holds her up and everything goes quiet.

Jongup watches the silent scene as if it’s been taken from a movie and he really can’t imagine that he’s really a part of it.  He doesn’t hear the sobs, the solemn “I’m sorry for your loss, we tried our best” – he doesn’t hear anything.  And maybe he doesn’t want to.  Because his brother is dead.  And Jongup thinks that he himself should have died too –

---

Jongup comes out of his memory when the light turns green and the cars start rushing passed him again.

Everything is loud.

He pays careful attention to the cars passing by.  He takes in the colours rushing in front of his eyes, making him go dizzy.  He listens carefully to the songs he hears from the open windows.  It’s a mess of sounds and sights and there’s no order to anything and Jongup loves it.

His thoughts are silent.  They are drowned in the ocean of senses and Jongup makes no attempt to save them.  He floats safely on the waves that trample him, envelop him and protect him from the evils below him.

But then there is an eerie silence and all Jongup sees is red.  And his thoughts rise up from below him – higher and higher until they hit him full on.  The ocean is gone and Jongup is falling.

---

“Shut up.”

Jongup has heard those word too often in the past two weeks.  When he’s walking through his school.  When he’s in class.  When he’s walking to the bus stop.  The words follow him around as if they’ve been taped to his ears.

The words aren’t directed to him.  But they’re always preceded by hushed voices – like they’re sharing secrets and spreading rumours.  Jongup wonders what he would hear if everyone weren’t so careful about talking about him.  About his dead brother.

“His brother’s dead.”

“They were so close though.”

“I feel so bad for him.”

“Pity, pity, pity.”

It’s okay.  Jongup knows that if he could hear what they say, the words would fall deaf on his ears anyways.  He’s fine with the hushed “shut up” that he pretends not to hear.

It’s okay.  Everything’s okay.

Jongup finds himself in his room with his parents’ cheap liquor tipping easily into his mouth.  He knows that it’s ten in the morning on a school day, and that it’s probably not an appropriate time to be drowning in his sorrows, but his parents have gone to work and I will drown in my sorrows whenever the hell I want, god damn it.

He’s hurt.  The world is moving on and his brother is still dead.  Not only is he hurt, but he’s confused.  He doesn’t understand how his parents are still going out to work.  He doesn’t understand how his aunts and uncles and cousins have stopped making sure his family is okay.  He doesn’t understand how nobody at school talks about it anymore.  He just doesn’t understand.

It’s been months, he tries telling himself.  But he’s tired of waking up with a black hole where his heart used to be.  He’s tired of waking up with a forbidden name on his tongue – a name he refuses to say anymore.  But then he drowns in the feeling in his chest that makes it physically hard for him to breath, and he doesn’t care that it’s been too long since he’s last heard his brother’s voice.  He wants it back and he doesn’t know how to deal with the silence.

Jongup looks around his room.  He sees his basketball in the corner, he sees the pile of laundry sitting in the laundry basket, he sees his textbooks on his desk.  He notices that the battery of his alarm clock has died and where there used to be bright red digital numbers, there is blackness instead.  The teen smiles in approval.  He thinks about how he can just spend the rest of his life in his room, where time doesn’t move and he can spend as long as he wants doing nothing.

He takes another sip of his drink and stares at it in hateful awe.  His body is so warm but he still feels so cold.  Useless drink, he thinks as his mind goes numb.  Wrapping himself under his duvet, he wishes he never has to wake up.

Jongup opens his eyes three months later when he’s called down for dinner and his parents look at him with unfamiliar eyes.  When he takes his seat at the table, his mother scoops some food on to his plate, as usual.  But the side-glances she gives him are anything but usual.  He isn’t surprised when her voice breaks through the fragile silence.

“Jongup, your birthday is in a few days,” she looks at him with a warm smile.  “Did you plan anything with your friends?”

He shakes his head, not realizing it had already been approaching that time of the year.

His mother’s smile falters.  “Did you want to do something?  You can go watch a movie with your friends and then come over for some food.  Or maybe you’d rather go to a restaurant?  Why don’t you plan something?  We’ll pay for it.”

Jongup spends a moment just staring at the woman in the mask in front of him.  Her smile is too warm and her words must have come from somewhere outside of her own brain because there’s no way that woman is his mother.

“It’s okay,” he says, declining her offer.  He’s always been a quiet person, so he hopes his answer will suffice.

His mother frowns and this time, it’s his father jumps in the conversation.

“We know you and Himchan were close,” he says, and Jongup can’t help but wince and the mention of his brother.  “But you can’t live the rest of your life hoping he’s going to come back, Jongup.  Because he’s not.”

Jongup feels his heart drop in his chest.  He knows it’s true – he’s not stupid.  He’s not waiting for his brother to walk through the door to join them for dinner.  But he still wishes nonetheless.

“Your mother and I have been very patient with you – ”

“Please don’t,” Jongup tries to interrupt through the tears that have involuntarily formed in his eyes.  The last thing he wants is to feel guilty.

“ – ever since Himchan passed away but it’s like you’re not even trying.  Sure, you’re still going to school and you haven’t been causing any trouble or anything… but other than that, you barely come out of your room.  You never go out with your friends like you used to.  All we want is for you to be happy again.”

Well then it’s too bad my brother’s dead, isn’t it? Jongup wants to say. It’s not like you guys ever cared.  You were never my reason to smile.  You were never there for me the way parents should be.  It was always hyung.  Not you guys.  I wish you guys showed you cared before he died.  Maybe then I would have believed you.  Jongup gets up from his seat, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“If you ever want to talk to us, we’re here for you, okay?  Hm?”

Jongup tries not to roll his eyes as he walks back to his room.  It’s not like he was that hungry anyways.

Several days later, Jongup’s safe haven is bombarded with a cake and balloons and cheery “happy birthdays” and he feels his mind go blank and heart get lighter, even if it’s just for a brief moment.  Before he knows it, he’s in his favourite restaurant with his friends, laughing over stupid jokes and not once does he think about the pain that’s been drowning him for what feels like an eternity.

He’s saying goodbye to his friends for the night, when Yongguk – one of Jongup and Himchan’s mutual friends – gives him a hug that lasts a few seconds too long.  And when he says an “I’m glad we have you back, kid”, Jongup feels his walls build back up as if they were never destroyed.  He forgot what it was like being around his friends.  Forgot what it was like to smile.  Forgot what happiness felt like.  And never had the chance to be around his brother’s best friend without his brother.  And being called kid from someone whose comforting hold and kind eyes were practically a mirror of Himchan, Jongup’s genuine smile turns frigid like a mask.

He keeps his mask as he walks home that evening, keeps it on as he blows out the candles to a cake that his parents bought for him.  He keeps it on even when he’s alone in his room.  But this isn’t happiness, he tries arguing to himself.  But he pushes those thoughts aside.  He figures he can pretend.

---

Jongup figures he must have been pretending for too long when he hears cars moving and his thoughts don’t shut up.

Broken.

Broken.

Jongup is as broken as the crushed metal can in the middle lane, getting trampled over mercilessly by unknowing drivers.  That’s when he realizes that his sadness is not when everyone thinks it is – not what he thought it was.  “He’s mourning his brother’s death,” everyone would say.  But they’re wrong.

Himchan kept Jongup afloat.  Jongup was lucky enough to have someone to spark some light into his eyes.  “You can do it Jongup” and “Do you want to go out tonight?” and “Are you okay?” were all ways of being told that he was loved.  It was his brother’s way of saying “I’ll look out for you until you learn to love yourself”.

And now, Jongup is drowning.  Drowning because his brother was taken away from him before he learned how to swim.

Red.

Red.

Red.

Jongup’s thoughts get louder and louder.  The silence is deafening.  He looks around and all he sees is red.  Give me a reason to keep torturing myself like this.  Nothing.

The teen stands, not sure of what else to do.  His mind is a mess.  His heart is racing from the silent battle being fought within him.  Then he sees it.

Wheels start turning and he smiles in relief.  He stands on the edge of the curb, enjoying the rush of air past his face.  He takes a deep breath in.  And a deep breath out.  He closes his eyes.  3, 2, 1.  And he takes a step.

He doesn’t even hear it when a truck horn blares in his ears and his body is crushed onto the asphalt below him.  A single comforting thought ghosts through his mind.

 Green means go.

--

Sorry for the abrupt ending >.< I got really impatient with this fic.  I wrote most of it while I was supposed to be studying for exams and such.  But yes, I'm still in the process of putting many of my emotions into other characters in different situations.  Still not too sure if it's working out too well.

As usual, comments are love!

-Captain