Chapter Text
Death is a slow pull into nothingness, a slow and gradual descent into emptiness. For Han Yoohyun, death did not mean much just as life was meaningless in all equal ways. He does not expect a light at the end of the tunnel, nor a shiny pearly gate to greet him.
His life doesn’t quite flash before his eyes, but rather just a humble film focused on one singular person who was a constant in his entirety of existence. Nearing the end, Han Yoohyun remembers his first memory, the small pair of tear-streaked eyes that peek over the edge to frown at him.
The small child cries, claiming to not want to see him. It isn’t until later that Han Yoohyun realizes his big brother resents him at first: he was born on Christmas day, the very cause of leaving Han Yoojin alone on what should have been a joyous holiday. Presents were supposed to be opened on that day, only for them to be left alone, leaving Yoojin’s mother writhing in pain on the hospital bed.
Han Yoohyun stares at the memory, watching the scene of Yoojin hiding his face in his father’s chest as he sobbed in front of the newborn younger brother. Time flows forward, naturally warming the relationship between the two brothers—though one-sided at first.
What Yoohyun feels in the beginning is indifference. Han Yoojin was simply a being to him. A being who takes care of him. Han Yoohyun understood that it was the job of the larger humans to take care of smaller ones. It was their duty to provide food, bathe, and clothe them. However, instead this over time shifted to the smaller boy, who Han Yoohyun would eventually speak his first words of hyung.
Yoohyun never questioned the order of human society. He never cared for unspoken rules that were taught and engrained into families. The only thing he came to know was that Han Yoojin felt more necessary to his survival rather than those parents. This all came naturally. But beyond that, there were no other emotions, just instinct, the desire to survive. Could it be called desire? To Yoohyun, it was just the simple order of things.
However, as the seasons flew past, Yoohyun began to understand the strangeness in the dynamics of their nuclear family. It was his 4th birthday, but their parents were nowhere to be seen, hidden behind the excuse of an appointment they were to attend. What clinic would be open on Christmas Day? He did not care for trivial meaning, but it seemed to affect Yoojin more, despite the birthday being Yoohyun’s.
It was snowing that night. The whirl of white could be seen outside the window, dimly lit by a yellow lamppost. Little Yoohyun sat snuggly in the arms of his small guardian, tucked next to a green frog plushie and behind a book as Yoojin slowly sounded out the lines of text. Han Yoojin sniffled quietly, and a tear drops onto the pages, blurring the black font. Han Yoohyun shifts his attention from the book to Yoojin, staring intently.
At this point, young Han Yoohyun had slowly begun to grasp the principles of society. He thought his brother to be strange. It was normal for the small and weak to depend on the bigger and stronger. By this law, Yoojin was supposed to follow after his parents, his rightful guardians. And one day, Yoojin does.
Under the darkening sky, sitting on a park bench, Han Yoohyun dangles his feet in a rhythmic motion. The warmth that enclosed his hands soon disappears, as Han Yoojin lets go and walks away. Han Yoohyun silently watches the small fading back that struggles to take each step before finally starting to run.
He thinks nothing of it– it was to be expected. It was Yoojin who was the odd one out, someone who constantly chose his younger brother over his parents. To be honest, it was not hard to trace his steps back to where their house was. He knew their address and phone number, something that was hounded into him under the guidance of Yoojin. But he also knew him reappearing at their doorstep would only bring danger upon himself and even his older brother.
Han Yoohyun sat still, continuing to swing his legs. Fortunately, he knew that this world had created a system in place for small beings who were abandoned. This alone was enough.
“Yoohyun!”
That was, until Han Yoojin called out for him.
—
The hues of reds and purples had already faded, darkening into a pitch black. Click. The lights surrounding the park flicker on, revealing the bench Han Yoohyun sits on. He hears the stumbling footsteps, the strained breath gasping in fluctuating lengths.
“Yoohyun!”
Before he knows it, Yoojin appears in the distance. Yoohyun’s emotionless eyes widen slightly, as the boy runs to him and embraces him.
Strange. Very strange. Yoohyun does not understand. Why choose him when the only outcome would be abandonment?
“I’m sorry,” Yoojin says.
“Why?” Yoohyun asks.
Yoojin’s arms tighten, his voice muffled in his shoulder. Yoohyun feels a slight dampness seeping through his shirt as an answer floats out, choked between gasping breaths.
“Because... because I left you behind. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”
The answer does not clarify anything to Han Yoohyun, who could not understand the emotion swelling up inside him. Why? Continues to echo in his mind. Yoojin’s sobbing breaths feel hot against Yoohyun’s shoulder. In the middle of the confusion, he feels dizzy. Yoohyun could not place a finger on what he felt.
Han Yoojin lets go and smiles, tears, and snot still rolling out his round, childish face while reaching out his hand. “Let’s go home,” he smiles, “to where hyung is.”
Home. And hyung. Han Yoohyun never felt the need to put a name on their relationship, only that Yoojin was a being who took care of him in place of the older pair of adults. Home and hyung. He slowly rolls these unfamiliar words over his tongue, awkward and tumbling. It was a foreign concept to Yoohyun, something he never thought he would need, something he thought he would never have to bear.
Yet, temptation strikes something in Yoohyun’s heart for the first time. But home? He tilts his head. If Yoohyun were to take his hand, there would no longer be home. If there was one thing he knew as fact, it was that their parents would never take in Han Yoojin if Han Yoohyun were standing beside him.
Thus, Han Yoohyun would not reach out for that hand. If he were to take it, it would mean the opposite would happen: That place was never Han Yoohyun’s home, but it was Han Yoojin’s. If Yoojin dared to choose Yoohyun over the comfort of guardianship, then his home would also be stripped away from him.
Therefore, to Han Yoohyun, there could only be one explanation that would make sense.
“Hyung, is Yoohyun’s home?”
There’s a brief pause of silence as Han Yoojin blinks the tears out of his eyes.
“Yes.” He stammers out. He continues to stretch out his hand, using his other hand to wipe the wetness away from his face.
“Hyung will make it Yoohyun’s home.” Yoojin smiles.
What was an even heartbeat, slowly begins to race. Han Yoohyun knows the correct response is to not accept for the sake of Han Yoojin. Yoohyun would be able to survive without him. The conflict brought out opposing views. He could not comprehend the feelings coursing through inside him. Even in the turmoil, Han Yoohyun took the outstretched hand and stepped into a small home created just for him.
As his hand touches Yoojin’s, an unexplainable feeling envelops him. The blur on Yoojin’s face began to clear, and it felt as if it was Yoohyun’s first time seeing his hyung.
Hyung is home. Han Yoohyun rolled these words on his tongue until they became familiar.
—
Of all things, this was the clearest memory that came to mind for Han Yoohyun who was at death’s door. He knew that this was when he felt his first emotion, at the expense of his hyung who abandoned his own feelings in the process.
The feeling came late, but as cruel as the price was, Yoohyun was still glad he reached out to that trembling hand.
Yoohyun hears the loud cries beyond the horizon, but as hard as Yoojin weeps, he cannot open his eyes. Trapped in his own memories, Yoohyun wishes he could break free from the laws of nature. It was hard not to feel his hyung’s sorrow through his impending grave.
For the first time, Yoohyun prays. He is unaware of the passage of time. With each sob Yoojin lets out, only silence greets him. It doesn’t matter how hot Yoojin’s tears that drop on top of Yoohyun’s face are, or how fervent Yoohyun’s beggings to an unknown god are; Yoohyun knows in his heart there would be no response to answer.
Han Yoohyun thinks that hyung’s sorrow is contagious. The frustration that builds inside him as he struggles for his eyes to open, and body to move burns like a fire ready to devour. Yoohyun does not ask for much, only wishes to erase the guilt he feels that is piling up in his hyung’s heart.
Another feeling appears in Yoohyun that he does not know what to name. Could it be called regret? He was always someone of few words, but it was a silence that Yoojin had long since grown accustomed to. Yoohyun regrets not speaking more, not voicing his thoughts. He knew that the brothers had come to a mutual understanding of their twisted version of love, but he couldn’t help but wish to settle Yoojin’s grief.
He knows what Yoojin will be thinking, knows that it will tear him apart. Just as Yoojin had grown accustomed to Yoohyun’s silence, Yoohyun had taken Yoojin’s affection for granted. Though his emotions began to ignite on that fateful night at the park bench, it would take much longer for him to learn of the names associated with it. But it seems that time would not be on his side.
Deeper in Han Yoohyun is another emotion that he has yet to recognize. It was something that was soft and tender, yet harsh and jarring at the same time. It twists and bends, soothes and calms. How could something be so contradicting?
He wanted to tell Han Yoojin that he knew. He knew how much hyung thought of him. How much he sacrificed for him. His everything was something that only existed because of him. His emotions, his consciousness, his thoughts. They were all things that belonged to hyung.
But even if Yoohyun could tell Yoojin all these things, how could he voice what he thought? After all, he was a mere 5 year old. All of these notions could not be strung into a coherent sentence, for Yoohyun simply did not know the right words to reach hyung’s ears.
In that moment of Han Yoohyun trying to gather his thoughts, he realizes what the emotion was. He had no choice but to love Han Yoojin.
But love was the cruelest blessing there was, and time was never forgiving. The twitch in Yoohyun's hand eventually slows to an end, and Yoojin prays for a new start, but there is no answer from above.