Work Text:
you pull my heart like how
the moon pulls the tide,
of longing, of wistfulness,
of nostalgia for what never was;
for you are of eyes
that not have yet met my own,
of lips yet to kiss, of arms yet to hold,
but i miss all these things i have yet to know.
-
“Lee Daehwi,” Woojin says through the microphone, fingers flipping the glossy pages of their batch’s yearbook. He hears a loud groan of refusal from the audience in front of him, most likely coming from the one he had just called out. “Ah, found it.”
The projector behind him flashes Daehwi’s yearbook page on the screen. The picture on the screen—bowl-cut, jet-black hair and lanky physique—contrasts the person now chuckling lightly as he slumps on his seat, now with tousled bleached hair and a slender model body. The crowd erupts in laughter, as Daehwi waves them off in embarassment.
“Voted most likely to become a music icon,” Woojin hums. “Looks like you guys turned out to be fortune tellers.” His batchmates clap in recognition because Daehwi really did become a worldwide famous music producer, winning awards and platinum records here and there.
“Daehwi’s wish…” he continues, “to be able to find true love someday. Wow, I expected you to be more original than this, you know.”
“Hey,” Daehwi protests, “that was the best I can come up with at that time, okay? Besides, I submitted a different wish before replacing it with that one.”
“Ya! Daehwi!” Guanlin, who was seated next to him, hits him in the arm. Woojin turns to them curiously, motioning Daehwi to continue.
“Everybody knows by now that I had the biggest crush on Guanlin then,” Daehwi says proudly while Guanlin shakes and lowers his head to hide. Their batchmates whistle at them teasingly. “So I wrote ‘to be able to get married to Lai Guanlin in the future’.”
Woojin remembers that. He was with the yearbook staff in highschool. He remembers Daehwi being called back into their office by the editor-in-chief to make sure if that really was what he wanted to be written in his yearbook page. He came back the next day with another wish.
“I thought about it. How it might be really awkward for Linlin and I if we were to meet up like this again, you guys cracking open the yearbook for fun with my marriage proposal obviously rejected because the feeling was one-sided,” it sounded sad but Daehwi was laughing as if it no longer mattered. “And I’m glad I changed it, because now I can look at you guys with pride that the wish written on my yearbook page had actually come true,” he says as he reaches to hold Jinyoung’s hand, engagement rings brushing past each other.
Jinyoung leans on his shoulder lovingly, “That was so cheesy. Y’all invited to the wedding by the way!”
Their batchmates cheer and clap, including Woojin. He turns to Daehwi’s side just in time to catch the small smile playing on Guanlin’s lips. Woojin smiles sadly at him.
Guanlin’s yearbook wish then had been ‘to be able to muster up the courage to tell him how I feel’, and with the way Woojin sees the what-if’s and could’ve-been’s in his eyes, he knows that wish still hasn’t come true.
The rest of the night continues in that pace, laughing over the moments when they had shed tears and crying over those when they were at their happiest. Their batchmates had rented an entire bar all to themselves to celebrate bittersweet memories over good food and alcohol.
High school, to Woojin, had been a place that kept all of his what-if’s. What if he tried harder then, would he have gone to a prestigious university under an academic scholarship and had become the surgeon his father had always wanted him to be? What if he hadn’t broken his ankle during the intramurals’ dance sport, would he have been scouted by a talent manager then?
What if Woojin had stop thinking of what-if’s and made action instead of just brooding over them, would he have been a whole lot happier than he is now?
They start packing and cleaning up a quarter to three in the morning, most of them too drunk to even drive that they had to hail a series of taxis. Woojin, being the event’s organizer, is the last one to leave, making sure everyone gets home safely. He pushes a very drunk Ahn Hyungseob, who was profusely screaming about a certain Lee Euiwoong from work who wouldn’t love him back, inside a cab.
“That’s the last of them,” Woojin looks back to the bar, now empty aside for the workers who were on the graveyard shift. He smiles sadly. “Still no sign of him this year either, huh?”
Woojin starts to walk back home.
It was like this every alumni homecoming of every single year since they have graduated. Reunion party, laughing over fond memories, going home sort of sober, and with no memory of Park Jihoon to keep from that night.
Woojin thinks it’s stupid of him to keep on waiting for him to show up every single time, but he couldn’t help it. He had spent the entire night taking quick glances at the door every time it creaks open and just having his hope crushed. He didn’t show up last year, nor did he show up the years before that, and there was no chance of him showing up this year either. But Woojin still waits for him.
Out of all the regrets and the could’ve-been’s Woojin had piled up for the past thirty years of his life, Park Jihoon was the biggest what-if of them all.
Jihoon was a transferee during their senior year, came two months late into the semester but nobody had dared to ask him why. He doesn’t talk much. He would always take the seat at the back of the class, by the window where he would usually just stare at for the entirety of the school day. He’d read a book or plug in his headphones and just disconnect from the world, zoning everything out.
Their classmates avoided him because of that, thinking that he would find their company annoying and would just simply reject their offers to befriend him.
But Woojin knows there’s more to Jihoon than the cold, detached front he keeps on pulling up.
Half a month after Jihoon’s transfer, Woojin noticed that they lived in the same subdivision. Every morning, Jihoon would help the grandmother who sells vegetables at the town market by carrying her load inside the bus, and taking them into her stall, flashing her a warm smile that Woojin has never seen inside the four walls of their classroom. Every morning, Jihoon would come to class late and whenever the teacher would ask for his reason, he would always answer with waking up late.
He would bump into Jihoon in the most unexpected places. He remembers attending a benefit concert put together by a family friend for cancer patients, and nearly fell off his seat in shock when he saw Jihoon as the guitarist for one of the bands performing. He knows of Jihoon’s interest in music, but it still surprised him how well he sang, and for a benefit concert on top of that.
There was also one time when he had spotted him at the rooftop during lunch, giving his sandwich to the tabby cat who lives in there, and another time, he had seen him leave his umbrella by the oak tree right in front of their school gates, before dashing past the heavy rain storm. When Woojin came to pick up his umbrella, he saw a small puppy inside a cardboard box shivering in the cold.
And every time Woojin catches him without the cold armor he had built on himself, Jihoon would also catch his eyes on him, the latter only staring back for a while before diverting his gaze elsewhere as if he was never there. But Woojin still looks, taking note of the little things that made Jihoon, Jihoon until he was sure it was no longer just simple curiosity.
Woojin had spent his senior year observing Park Jihoon, but they have never exhanged words as much as they have exchanged glances.
When they’d pass each other in the hallways, there were no hello’s or hey’s or friendly waves. When they’d share the same bus seat, only silence took over, and Woojin let the rest of the year go by like that. He doesn’t tell his classmates either about the grandma or the tabby cat or the puppy. Or the warm feeling spreading across his chest whenever he sees the small smile curl up on his lips.
Jihoon was Woojin’s little secret.
Woojin stops on one side of the road, waiting for the traffic light to turn red. It’s already ten minutes past three, and the breeze that brushed past him was too chilly that it made him shudder.
“You know, you shouldn’t walk around at 3 am wearing only a thin buttoned-up shirt, especially not in this weather,” he hears someone say behind him and Woojin freezes. He doesn’t have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. He’s only ever heard it a few times and the last was already over ten years ago, but he remembers.
From his peripheral, he sees Jihoon walk past him and towards where he can see him clearly under the streetlight. His hair was now bleached, fringe longer than the last time he had seen him, but Jihoon was still as beautiful as he had remembered.
“Hi, Woojin,” Jihoon says with a smile, his hands on his jeans’ pockets, “Long time no see.”
“Jihoon…Park Jihoon,” Woojin barely whispers, still taken aback. He has waited for years to see him again, and now that he was already here, he can’t think straight. “You’re here.”
Jihoon chuckles softly, “Yeah. I arrived at Seoul around seven in the evening and had to settle a few things before driving here to Busan. When I reached the bar, you were already closing up so…yeah,” he shrugs. “Sorry for not being able to make it on time.”
Woojin quickly shakes his head, “It’s fine, it’s fine. You don’t have to say sorry. I’m sure you’re tired from your flight and your drive to Busan. I’m sure our batchmates would understand.”
Jihoon gives him another warm smile, and Woojin hears the loud hammering coming from his chest, that he’s definitely sure isn’t because of the alcohol from hours ago. He hopes Jihoon doesn’t hear it too.
The streets are already dead at this time of the day, only the sound of the trees rustling and a few cars from the next street can be heard. Another strong gush of wind brushes past them and Woojin shivers.
“Here,” Jihoon says as he takes off the coat he’s wearing and hands it to Woojin. “Put this on. You’ll catch a cold.”
Woojin stares at him in surprise and quickly waves off the gesture, “No, no...you wear it. I don’t want you getting sick.”
“My immune system is strong, and this sweater is thick enough, so please,” Jihoon pushes as he pulls Woojin’s arm, the latter blushing profusely at the sudden contact, and puts it on him himself. Woojin no longer tries to protest, afraid he’d say something too awkward. “I don’t take no for an answer,” Jihoon grins and all he could do is nod.
“Heading home?” Jihoon asks casually as he buttons up the coat.
“Yeah…” Woojin croaks, his voice too weak that he had to repeat it when Jihoon looks back at him. “Yeah. My place is just near here.”
Jihoon looks at his wristwatch before turning back to him. “It’s already 3:30. Aren’t you already tired? I parked my car near here. I can drive you home—“
“No, it’s fine, no worries,” Woojin’s mouth quickly denies before he could think. “I’m not really tired, and I could really use some fresh air and a walk,” and he mentally hits himself because this could possibly be the last time he’ll ever see Jihoon again for the next decade and here was his chance to be able to actually be near him yet he was blowing it off all because he was afraid of Jihoon finding out what Woojin, ironically, wants him to know since high school.
Jihoon nods and whistles a bit before fishing for his car keys in his pocket, and Woojin knows he really did blew off his blue moon chance that will probably never come by again.
“Alright, so wanna grab coffee with me?” Jihoon suddenly asks, and Woojin blinks in surprise. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a friendly face, and I really don’t want this conversation to end just yet.”
Woojin couldn’t believe his ears, or his entire self, really, when he feels himself nod and say okay, or this reality now that they were inside Jihoon’s trailblazer, driving towards the nearest 24-hour coffee shop. It was all too surreal to believe in.
The drive was only a few minutes, the nearest café just a few blocks away from where they were. Woojin taps on the wooden table nervously as Jihoon walks away from the counter and towards their seats with two warm cups.
“Uh, I don’t drink coffee,” Woojin bites down on his lower lip.
“I remember,” Jihoon nods as he sits down. He gently pushes the cup of hot chocolate towards him. “That’s yours. The espresso is mine, don’t worry.”
Woojin tries not to think too much about Jihoon knowing he doesn’t like coffee.
“I still feel bad though,” Jihoon starts. “I really wanted to see how everyone’s doing, and y’all seem to have had a great time, judging from how wasted Hyungseob was.”
Woojin stifles a laugh, “You saw that? But yeah, it would have been great if you were there too. We could’ve read your yearbook wish…what was it again?”
He’s not really asking; he doesn’t need too. He doesn’t really need to open up and flip through the pages of their yearbook to remember Jihoon’s wish. It was too simple, but he knows it had meant so much more.
Jihoon rests his chin on both of his palms and stares at him, “Happiness. I wished to find happiness.” And from the way he has been glowing since the last time he had seen him, Woojin assumes he must’ve found it already. His eyes subconsciously land on his ring finger, quietly sighing in relief when he doesn’t see a silver band.
“And it’s alright, that wasn’t even my original wish, and I don’t think much people are interested to hear that one either,” Jihoon takes a sip of his coffee then leans forward, “In fact, I think more would be interested in yours. If I remember correctly, it’s ‘to stop thinking about what-ifs and just do it’? How’s that wish going?”
Woojin tries to mask his surprise by drinking from his cup. He clears his throat, “Uh, doing great, really. I started my own dance school not too recently. It’s in Seoul, still a small one but it’s doing fine so I’m proud.”
“That’s nice. I’m proud of you too,” Jihoon says and Woojin notes the genuineness in it. “You have always been an amazing dancer since high school. I’m glad you’re doing what you love most.”
“Thanks, Jihoon,” Woojin smiles at him shyly. “But you’re the one who’s truly amazing here, most sought-out Broadway actor, record-breaking music producer. Tell me, how’s life in New York, by the way?”
“Stressful, but fun. I learned a lot and gained more experience in the field,” Jihoon smiles back. “Didn’t expect to click so well in a foreign country, but I’m thankful for what I’ve achieved there.”
Woojin nods as his fingers taps restlessly on his ceramic cup, “Are you…are you going back to New York sometime soon?”
“Why? Do you want me too? And here I was thinking that maybe you missed me just as much as I missed you,” Jihoon shoots back teasingly, taking Woojin in surprise, mostly by the last bit. “I’m kidding. And to answer your question, not too soon and only probably for a short visit. I’m staying in Korea for good now.”
Woojin tries to hide the undeniable wave of happiness washing over him.
“Oh, I see,” he says, biting down his lip to stop the smile from coming up. “Going back to the local industry I see.”
“Yeah,” Jihoon arches a brow and chuckles softly, and Woojin forces himself to believe Jihoon still hasn’t caught on as to why he was biting down on his lips way too hard. “I was actually planning on starting my own entertainment company sometime this month. Already got the place and all, just the staff and workers left.”
Woojin nods. Jihoon takes his own cup and sways it a little, “And to be honest, the reason I came all the way to Busan was not only because of the homecoming reunion,” he looks up to him under the fringe hooding over his eyes. “I came here to see you actually.”
Woojin blinks at him, “M-me?”
“Yeah, I wanted to ask you to be a part of my team. I could really use a great choreographer to put justice into my production,” Jihoon grins. “Would you like to be the first one on my team, Woojin?” he turns to him expectantly.
You no longer wanted what-if’s, right?
Woojin nods at him, and smiles, “Sure.”
Jihoon beams at him and quickly takes out his calling card from his wallet before handing it to Woojin. “Here’s my number if you want to ask for more details,” he pulls out his phone and awkwardly sways it around, “And uh, I also…I mean, for business purposes, of course…I need your—“
“My number?” Woojin catches the small tinge of pink in Jihoon’s cheeks before he could cover it with the back of his hand with a fake cough. He stifles a chuckle. “Okay, give me your phone. I’ll type it down.”
Woojin takes the phone from him and types in his digits, before handing it back to him with a grin. Jihoon, when he’s in front of him blushing shyly like this, is more than just a what-if now, he thinks. He’s now done with the what-if’s and could’ve-been’s.
“Say, wanna meet up tomorrow?” Woojin says before turning to his wristwatch. “No, wait, it’s like four in the morning already. I mean, later? For lunch.”
Jihoon gives him a small smile after finishing what remains of his now stale coffee, “I’d love to.”
Woojin feels a flutter in chest and he lets it. From now on, instead of maybes, it’ll all be will-be’s.
***
Senior year; February.
“Hyung, you’re gonna change your yearbook wish, right?” Jihoon hears Yoo Seonho, a sophomore say as he makes his way inside the yearbook staff’s office. He turns to his side and catches Park Woojin frozen stiff in mid-action, eyes staring at him.
Beautiful, curious eyes.
“Uh…uh…I’ll change it later! I remembered Hyungseob needed help with something!” Woojin says as he picks up his bag and dashes towards the door, shoulder briefly brushing past Jihoon’s. “Be right back!”
Seonho turns to look at him questioningly. “Jihoon hyung? Do you need something?”
Jihoon trudges towards where he’s sitting and pulls out a sheet of paper from the binder he was holding. “Uh, I came to submit another form for my yearbook page. I made a few changes.”
“Oh, okay. Wait, I’ll look for your class portfolio first,” Seonho says as he stands up to head towards the huge shelf filled with paperworks behind him. “You’re classmates with Woojin hyung right?”
“Yeah,” Jihoon barely answers when he spots a sheet of paper tucked under a buzzing phone. His eyes skim through the words; it was Woojin’s yearbook profile.
Park Woojin. November 2, 1999. Dance Club President, Taekwondo athlete. Voted most likely to be a dancing idol.
Wish for the future: for my first love to no longer be just a what-if.
“Ah, here it is,” Seonho says as he goes back to his desk. He pulls out a sheet from the portfolio and checks it with the new one Jihoon had handed over to him.
“Oh, you changed your wish too? From ‘to start an idol business with the one I love and do what we love the most’ to ‘be happy.’ You went from overly specific to overly broad, hyung,” Seonho chuckles. “Mind telling me why?”
Jihoon lets out a small laugh, “I thought about it. The future is vague. Some things might not go my way, and I may never get the first wish, and I realized that I’m fine with it. More than that, I want to go back here from New York years later, and see if he’s still waiting for me, and if he is then I’ll be happy. And if he’s not but he’s happy with the life he has without me, I’ll still be happy regardless.”
“Wow, hyung,” Seonho mutters, “Too deep into your first love, I assume? Mind telling me who the lucky guy is?”
Jihoon looks back down on Woojin’s yearbook profile and smiles. “Someone you know really well.”