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Wooseok
It's getting late, it's almost midnight and the obscurity is becoming denser, darker and deeper, giving birth to a nightmare in which everything and everyone are going to be swallowed. There's no salvation for anything or anyone. Not even for Wooseok, not for their love, not even for Hyojong.
Wooseok comes back home. He's all alone in a house so empty, filled up with silence, in a room so cold, because Hyojong isn't with him.
He sits on the couch, he squints his eyelids and he recalls their first encounter, their first look, their first hug, their first kiss, their first time, but also their first insults, their first glares, their first conflicts. It seems to be so much to remember, but also so much to forget.
Of how Wooseok and Hyojong have meet in an underground parking where they were doing a rap battle, of how they have looked at each other after one of the two's victory, of how they have hugged on the rooftop of a building after talking for so long, of how they have kissed and they have made sex after their first quarrel, because despite fists, slaps, kicks and blood they were still in love. Of how Wooseok has kissed his lips, devouring him with bites, and he has dragged him on the bed, where Hyojong has spread his legs apart, letting him in, and he has whimpered in pain and pleasure. They belonged to each other.
He takes the cellular, he dials his number and he hears the several rings that follow one after the other, waiting for the call to be picked up by him. He wants to talk to him, it's all he can do, he has to talk to him. He needs it.
"Wooseokkie" Hyojong says softly in a voice so low, almost fearful and so faint, then he pauses and he sighs, trying not to cry out all of the sufferances he has been enduring since they fought against each other, "I love you, I love you, I love you" he murmurs, realizing they're both already in tears.
Wooseok knows that Hyojong is drunk, but it doesn't matter anymore, even if it should, it doesn't matter anymore how he himself has been threatened by him, beaten up by him and abused by him. It's all forgotten, it's all forgiven. They're forgotten memories, they're forgiven sins.
"Come back here, come back to me, come back home" Wooseok begs him through a desperate, trembling and miserable plea, exposing himself, his emotions and his feelings to him in order to save what they have, even though it's brutal, wrong and violent, "please" he keeps pleading him, without giving up on them.
The calls ends.
Hyojong
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Hyojong swears while he throws the phone that ran out of battery against the wall, because the call has been abruptly interrupted, "dammit!" he screams out loud, letting the rage take over him since he's caught by a fit of anger.
He gets out of the nightclub. He walks down the street, along the sidewalk, between the cars, being surrounded by the weak, dim and faint light of lampposts that turns on and turns off intermittently. It's as if he's living in a limbo of shadows and lights. It's made of nightmares, it's made of dreams.
He flings the bottle on the ground, then he clings to his leather jacket and he lights up a cigarette, giving vent to all his anger, grudge and hate as he kicks off a garbage bin. He's drunk.
He enters in the vehicle, he starts the engine and he drives to the peripheral area of the city. It's where he lived with him, together, and it's where he's he's going. He's coming back to him, he's coming back there, he's coming home.
He spots a telephone booth, so he parks the stolen convertible and he dials his number, leaving a message on the voicemail since the call isn't picked up by him.
"My phone ran out of battery" Hyojong warns him in a voice so steady, high-pitched and firm, then he pulls a photograph out of the jeans pocket and a slight smile curves the corners of his mouth upwards, "but I'm coming back to you, I'm coming back there, I'm coming home" he whispers thought trembling words that vibrate into the frigid air.
He collapses into the seat, he tunes the radio in and he listens to a song, crashing against another car on the way. He will never, ever come back to him, he will never, ever come back there, he will never, ever come back home. The impact kills him. The last thing he can see is the gleam of the lanterns, the last thing he can think of is him, the last thing he can hear is the rumble of the clash. And then there's nothing else, and then there's no one else. Not even him, not even the dangerous, cruel, alcoholic criminal known as Edawn, not even Hyojong.
Hyojong can't return to him, he can't return there, he can't return home. Wooseok can wait for him all night, until the end of time, for the rest of his life. It's all over. What they were, what they are, what they could've been.