Chapter Text
It wasn’t that cold out, just a late spring night, the remaining bits of winter air nipping at the warm skin exposed to feel the unexpected coolness.
Hwanwoong sat on the swing, rocking back and forth as the breeze carried him. Sometimes, there was a gust that made him shiver, but it was calm for the most part. He visited this swing in the playground of the apartment complex frequently, but this time was a more painful.
Today felt cold, colder than how others might have perceived it. To Hwanwoong, it's a consuming type, one that wrapped around his body, clawed at his skin. He shivered, wearing only a t-shirt and sweatpants but no intent to go inside anytime soon. His hand clenched the fabric at the middle of his chest, aiding the deep breathes he let out. His heart ached, and the air at the end of each breath was shakier than the last.
“You did well,” he tried to convince himself with a weak whisper, almost desperate. It hurt how much he didn’t believe it. “You did...” He out the softest sob, so quiet it's terribly miserable.
Tears that had already formed at the corners of his eyes began to fall from the ducts, silently rolling down Hwanwoong's cheeks and onto his lap or into the gravelly sand of the playground. He let go of the chains of the swing, wiping his face with the back of his palm and his forearm. Even then, his tears still continued to fall, followed by a whimper and then another strained sob.
It was tiring to hold it all back.
With only slight restraint, Hwanwoong cried, emptying his heart of the emotions and thoughts he had been bottling up with feeble sobs and burning tears. He felt so helpless and pitiful. He leaned into his palms, covering his face even though he's sure no one would even care about a twenty year old male crying on the swing of a playground, and even then they’d probably walk passed without a second glance to spare.
Gravel crunched around him. Another set of chains rattled and squeaked beside him where the empty swing was. Hwanwoong did his best to stifle his whimpers and sobs, aware that someone sat in the swing next him. He turned his head away, unwilling to face the person.
“Sorry,” the trainee shakily apologized.
“Why?” The person’s voice was soft and gentle. Hwanwoong bit his lip, swallowing his emotions. “I don’t think you have anything to be sorry about.”
Hwanwoong pursed his lips, chest unsettled by those words. He reluctantly glanced at who accompanied him, a swirl of intensity blowing inside him.
Gunmin sat beside him in the other swing, gaze distant as his eyes were casted downwards to the ground. Hwanwoong waited with baited breath to see what Gunmin’s reason was for being here, but he didn’t need a verbal answer. Gunmin blinked, his eyes trailing up to meet Hwanwoong’s. He gave him a small but gentle grin.
Like a flood bursting from a dam, everything rushed out of Hwanwoong in a heavy flow crashing down. He let out a loud sob and chokes on the next, burying his face into his hands and holding his mouth shut. It’s embarrassing. He was shattering, unraveling as if Gunmin had pulled a loose thread on a sweater. His ears were ringing and every inch of his skin tingled with the lack of oxygen. He couldn’t breathe, Hwanwoong knew that much. It felt like he was drowning, desperate for the air his lungs couldn’t grasp.
Arms hesitantly wrapped around him. It was an awkward hug meant to be comforting. And to an extent, it was comforting. It was warm, and that alone was enough for Hwanwoong to cling onto.
He heaved with every pathetic sob, burying his face into Gunmin’s sweater, hiding himself away.
“You did well,” Gunmin whispered, running a consoling hand down the younger’s back. Hwanwoong whimpered, growing weary in Gunmin’s arms.
“You did your best.”